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- color: black; - font-size: smaller; - padding: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 5em; - font-family: sans-serif, serif; } -.tn { - padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -1em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cornhill Magazine, Vol. I, January 1860, by Various</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Cornhill Magazine, Vol. I, January 1860</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 17, 2021 [eBook #66075]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: hekula03, Ian Crann and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNHILL MAGAZINE, VOL. I, JANUARY 1860 ***</div> - -<h1><span class="smaller">THE</span><br /> -CORNHILL MAGAZINE.</h1> - -<hr class="r20" /> - -<p class="center"><b>JANUARY, 1860.</b></p> - -<hr class="r20" /> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" summary="Table of Contents"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Framley Parsonage.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Framley_Parsonage">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Chinese and the “Outer Barbarians.”</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#The_Chinese_and_the_Outer_Barbarians">26</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Lovel the Widower.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Lovel_the_Widower">44</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Studies in Animal Life.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Studies_in_Animal_Life">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Father Prout’s Inaugurative Ode</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Father_Prouts_Inaugurative_Ode">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Our Volunteers.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Our_Volunteers">77</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">A Man of Letters of the Last Generation.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#A_Man_of_Letters_of_the_Last_Generation">85</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The Search for Sir John Franklin.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#The_Search_for_Sir_John_Franklin">96</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The First Morning of 1860.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#The_First_Morning_of_1860">122</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Roundabout Papers.—No. I.</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Roundabout_Papers_No_I">124</a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class="r20" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="Framley_Parsonage">Framley Parsonage.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<p class="motto">“<span class="smcap" lang="la" xml:lang="la">Omnes omnia bona dicere.</span>”</p> - -<p>When young Mark Robarts was leaving college, his father might well -declare that all men began to say all good things to him, and to extol -his fortune in that he had a son blessed with so excellent a disposition.</p> - -<p class="pt">This father was a physician living at Exeter. He was a gentleman -possessed of no private means, but enjoying a lucrative practice, which -had enabled him to maintain and educate a family with all the advantages -which money can give in this country. Mark was his eldest son and -second child; and the first page or two of this narrative must be consumed -in giving a catalogue of the good things which chance and conduct together -had heaped upon this young man’s head.</p> - -<p class="pt">His first step forward in life had arisen from his having been sent, -while still very young, as a private pupil to the house of a clergyman, -who was an old friend and intimate friend of his father’s. This clergyman -had one other, and only one other, pupil—the young Lord Lufton, and, -between the two boys, there had sprung up a close alliance.</p> - -<p class="pt">While they were both so placed, Lady Lufton had visited her son, and -then invited young Robarts to pass his next holidays at Framley Court. -This visit was made; and it ended in Mark going back to Exeter with a -letter full of praise from the widowed peeress. She had been delighted, -she said, in having such a companion for her son, and expressed a hope -that the boys might remain together during the course of their education. -Dr. Robarts was a man who thought much of the breath of peers and -peeresses, and was by no means inclined to throw away any advantage -which might arise to his child from such a friendship. When, therefore, -the young lord was sent to Harrow, Mark Robarts went there also.</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[Pg 2]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">That the lord and his friend often quarrelled, and occasionally fought,—the -fact even that for one period of three months they never spoke to -each other—by no means interfered with the doctor’s hopes. Mark again -and again stayed a fortnight at Framley Court, and Lady Lufton always -wrote about him in the highest terms.</p> - -<p class="pt">And then the lads went together to Oxford, and here Mark’s good -fortune followed him, consisting rather in the highly respectable manner in -which he lived, than in any wonderful career of collegiate success. His -family was proud of him, and the doctor was always ready to talk of him -to his patients; not because he was a prizeman, and had gotten medals and -scholarships, but on account of the excellence of his general conduct. He -lived with the best set—he incurred no debts—he was fond of society, but -able to avoid low society—liked his glass of wine, but was never known to -be drunk; and, above all things, was one of the most popular men in the -university.</p> - -<p class="pt">Then came the question of a profession for this young Hyperion, and -on this subject, Dr. Robarts was invited himself to go over to Framley -Court to discuss the matter with Lady Lufton. Dr. Robarts returned with -a very strong conception that the Church was the profession best suited to -his son.</p> - -<p class="pt">Lady Lufton had not sent for Dr. Robarts all the way from Exeter for -nothing. The living of Framley was in the gift of the Lufton family, and -the next presentation would be in Lady Lufton’s hands, if it should fall -vacant before the young lord was twenty-five years of age, and in the -young lord’s hands if it should fall afterwards. But the mother and the -heir consented to give a joint promise to Dr. Robarts. Now, as the -present incumbent was over seventy, and as the living was worth 900<i>l</i>. -a year, there could be no doubt as to the eligibility of the clerical -profession.</p> - -<p class="pt">And I must further say, that the dowager and the doctor were justified -in their choice by the life and principles of the young man—as far as any -father can be justified in choosing such a profession for his son, and as far -as any lay impropriator can be justified in making such a promise. Had -Lady Lufton had a second son, that second son would probably have had -the living, and no one would have thought it wrong;—certainly not if that -second son had been such a one as Mark Robarts.</p> - -<p class="pt">Lady Lufton herself was a woman who thought much on religious -matters, and would by no means have been disposed to place any one in -a living, merely because such a one had been her son’s friend. Her tendencies -were High Church, and she was enabled to perceive that those of -young Mark Robarts ran in the same direction. She was very desirous that -her son should make an associate of his clergyman, and by this step she would -insure, at any rate, that. She was anxious that the parish vicar should be -one with whom she could herself fully co-operate, and was perhaps unconsciously -wishful that he might in some measure be subject to her influence. -Should she appoint an older man, this might probably not be the case to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[Pg 3]</span> -the same extent; and should her son have the gift, it might probably not -be the case at all.</p> - -<p class="pt">And therefore it was resolved that the living should be given to young -Robarts.</p> - -<p class="pt">He took his degree—not with any brilliancy, but quite in the manner -that his father desired; he then travelled for eight or ten months with Lord -Lufton and a college don, and almost immediately after his return home was -ordained.</p> - -<p class="pt">The living of Framley is in the diocese of Barchester; and, seeing what -were Mark’s hopes with reference to that diocese, it was by no means -difficult to get him a curacy within it. But this curacy he was not allowed -long to fill. He had not been in it above a twelvemonth, when poor old -Dr. Stopford, the then vicar of Framley, was gathered to his fathers, and -the full fruition of his rich hopes fell upon his shoulders.</p> - -<p class="pt">But even yet more must be told of his good fortune before we can come -to the actual incidents of our story. Lady Lufton, who, as I have said, -thought much of clerical matters, did not carry her High Church principles -so far as to advocate celibacy for the clergy. On the contrary, -she had an idea that a man could not be a good parish parson without a -wife. So, having given to her favourite a position in the world, and an -income sufficient for a gentleman’s wants, she set herself to work to find -him a partner in those blessings.</p> - -<p class="pt">And here also, as in other matters, he fell in with the views of his -patroness—not, however, that they were declared to him in that marked -manner in which the affair of the living had been broached. Lady Lufton -was much too highly gifted with woman’s craft for that. She never told -the young vicar that Miss Monsell accompanied her ladyship’s married -daughter to Framley Court expressly that he, Mark, might fall in love with -her; but such was in truth the case.</p> - -<p class="pt">Lady Lufton had but two children. The eldest, a daughter, had been -married some four or five years to Sir George Meredith, and this Miss -Monsell was a dear friend of hers. And now looms before me the novelist’s -great difficulty. Miss Monsell,—or, rather, Mrs. Mark Robarts,—must be -described. As Miss Monsell, our tale will have to take no prolonged note -of her. And yet we will call her Fanny Monsell, when we declare that she -was one of the pleasantest companions that could be brought near to a man, -as the future partner of his home, and owner of his heart. And if high -principles without asperity, female gentleness without weakness, a love of -laughter without malice, and a true loving heart, can qualify a woman -to be a parson’s wife, then was Fanny Monsell qualified to fill that -station.</p> - -<p class="pt">In person she was somewhat larger than common. Her face would -have been beautiful but that her mouth was large. Her hair, which was -copious, was of a bright brown; her eyes also were brown, and, being so, -were the distinctive feature of her face, for brown eyes are not common. -They were liquid, large, and full either of tenderness or of mirth. Mark<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[Pg 4]</span> -Robarts still had his accustomed luck, when such a girl as this was -brought to Framley for his wooing.</p> - -<p class="pt">And he did woo her—and won her. For Mark himself was a handsome -fellow. At this time the vicar was about twenty-five years of age, and the -future Mrs. Robarts was two or three years younger. Nor did she come -quite empty-handed to the vicarage. It cannot be said that Fanny Monsell -was an heiress, but she had been left with a provision of some few -thousand pounds. This was so settled, that the interest of his wife’s money -paid the heavy insurance on his life which young Robarts effected, and -there was left to him, over and above, sufficient to furnish his parsonage -in the very best style of clerical comfort,—and to start him on the road of -life rejoicing.</p> - -<p class="pt">So much did Lady Lufton do for her <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégé</span></i>, and it may well be -imagined that the Devonshire physician, sitting meditative over his parlour -fire, looking back, as men will look back on the upshot of their life, was -well contented with that upshot, as regarded his eldest offshoot, the Rev. -Mark Robarts, the vicar of Framley.</p> - -<p class="pt">But little has as yet been said, personally, as to our hero himself, and -perhaps it may not be necessary to say much. Let us hope that by degrees -he may come forth upon the canvas, showing to the beholder the nature of -the man inwardly and outwardly. Here it may suffice to say that he was -no born heaven’s cherub, neither was he a born fallen devil’s spirit. Such -as his training made him, such he was. He had large capabilities for good—and -aptitudes also for evil, quite enough: quite enough to make it -needful that he should repel temptation as temptation only can be repelled. -Much had been done to spoil him, but in the ordinary acceptation of the -word he was not spoiled. He had too much tact, too much common sense, -to believe himself to be the paragon which his mother thought him. Self-conceit -was not, perhaps, his greatest danger. Had he possessed more of -it, he might have been a less agreeable man, but his course before him might -on that account have been the safer.</p> - -<p class="pt">In person he was manly, tall, and fair-haired, with a square forehead, -denoting intelligence rather than thought, with clear white hands, filbert -nails, and a power of dressing himself in such a manner that no one should -ever observe of him that his clothes were either good or bad, shabby or -smart.</p> - -<p class="pt">Such was Mark Robarts when at the age of twenty-five, or a little -more, he married Fanny Monsell. The marriage was celebrated in his -own church, for Miss Monsell had no home of her own, and had been -staying for the last three months at Framley Court. She was given away -by Sir George Meredith, and Lady Lufton herself saw that the wedding -was what it should be, with almost as much care as she had bestowed on -that of her own daughter. The deed of marrying, the absolute tying of -the knot, was performed by the Very Reverend the Dean of Barchester, an -esteemed friend of Lady Lufton’s. And Mrs. Arabin, the Dean’s wife, was -of the party, though the distance from Barchester to Framley is long, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[Pg 5]</span> -the roads deep, and no railway lends its assistance. And Lord Lufton was -there of course; and people protested that he would surely fall in love with -one of the four beautiful bridesmaids, of whom Blanche Robarts, the -vicar’s second sister, was by common acknowledgment by far the most -beautiful.</p> - -<p class="pt">And there was there another and a younger sister of Mark’s—who did -not officiate at the ceremony, though she was present—and of whom no -prediction was made, seeing that she was then only sixteen, but of whom -mention is made here, as it will come to pass that my readers will know -her hereafter. Her name was Lucy Robarts.</p> - -<p class="pt">And then the vicar and his wife went off on their wedding tour, the -old curate taking care of the Framley souls the while.</p> - -<p class="pt">And in due time they returned; and after a further interval, in due -course, a child was born to them; and then another; and after that came -the period at which we will begin our story. But before doing so, may -not assert that all men were right in saying all manner of good things to -the Devonshire physician, and in praising his luck in having such a son?</p> - -<p class="pt">“You were up at the house to-day, I suppose?” said Mark to his -wife, as he sat stretching himself in an easy chair in the drawing-room, -before the fire, previously to his dressing for dinner. It was a November -evening, and he had been out all day, and on such occasions the aptitude -for delay in dressing is very powerful. A strong-minded man goes direct -from the hall-door to his chamber without encountering the temptation -of the drawing-room fire.</p> - -<p class="pt">“No; but Lady Lufton was down here.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Full of arguments in favour of Sarah Thompson?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Exactly so, Mark.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And what did you say about Sarah Thompson?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Very little as coming from myself; but I did hint that you thought, -or that I thought that you thought, that one of the regular trained schoolmistresses -would be better.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But her ladyship did not agree?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Well, I won’t exactly say that;—though I think that perhaps she -did not.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I am sure she did not. When she has a point to carry, she is very -fond of carrying it.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But then, Mark, her points are generally so good.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But, you see, in this affair of the school she is thinking more of her -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégée</span></i> than she does of the children.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Tell her that, and I am sure she will give way.”</p> - -<p class="pt">And then again they were both silent. And the vicar having thoroughly -warmed himself, as far as this might be done by facing the fire, turned -round and began the operation <i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">à tergo</span></i>.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Come, Mark, it is twenty minutes past six. Will you go and dress?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I’ll tell you what, Fanny: she must have her way about Sarah -Thompson. You can see her to-morrow and tell her so.”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[Pg 6]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“I am sure, Mark, I would not give way, if I thought it wrong. Nor -would she expect it.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“If I persist this time, I shall certainly have to yield the next; and -then the next may probably be more important.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But if it’s wrong, Mark?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I didn’t say it was wrong. Besides, if it is wrong, wrong in some -infinitesimal degree, one must put up with it. Sarah Thompson is very -respectable; the only question is whether she can teach.”</p> - -<p class="pt">The young wife, though she did not say so, had some idea that her -husband was in error. It is true that one must put up with wrong, with -a great deal of wrong. But no one need put up with wrong that he can -remedy. Why should he, the vicar, consent to receive an incompetent -teacher for the parish children, when he was able to procure one that was -competent? In such a case,—so thought Mrs. Robarts to herself,—she -would have fought the matter out with Lady Lufton.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the next morning, however, she did as she was bid, and signified -to the dowager that all objection to Sarah Thompson would be withdrawn.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Ah! I was sure he would agree with me,” said her ladyship, “when he -learned what sort of person she is. I know I had only to explain;”—and -then she plumed her feathers, and was very gracious; for, to tell the truth, -Lady Lufton did not like to be opposed in things which concerned the -parish nearly.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And, Fanny,” said Lady Lufton, in her kindest manner, “you are not -going anywhere on Saturday, are you?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“No, I think not.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Then you must come to us. Justinia is to be here, you know”—Lady -Meredith was named Justinia—“and you and Mr. Robarts had -better stay with us till Monday. He can have the little book-room all to -himself on Sunday. The Merediths go on Monday; and Justinia won’t -be happy if you are not with her.”</p> - -<p class="pt">It would be unjust to say that Lady Lufton had determined not to invite -the Robarts’s if she were not allowed to have her own way about Sarah -Thompson. But such would have been the result. As it was, however, -she was all kindness; and when Mrs. Robarts made some little excuse, -saying that she was afraid she must return home in the evening, because -of the children, Lady Lufton declared that there was room enough at -Framley Court for baby and nurse, and so settled the matter in her own -way, with a couple of nods and three taps of her umbrella.</p> - -<p class="pt">This was on a Tuesday morning, and on the same evening, before dinner, -the vicar again seated himself in the same chair before the drawing-room -fire, as soon as he had seen his horse led into the stable.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Mark,” said his wife, “the Merediths are to be at Framley on Saturday -and Sunday; and I have promised that we will go up and stay over -till Monday.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“You don’t mean it! Goodness gracious, how provoking!”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[Pg 7]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“Why? I thought you wouldn’t mind it. And Justinia would think -it unkind if I were not there.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“You can go, my dear, and of course will go. But as for me, it is -impossible.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But why, love?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Why? Just now, at the school-house, I answered a letter that was -brought to me from Chaldicotes. Sowerby insists on my going over there -for a week or so; and I have said that I would.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Go to Chaldicotes for a week, Mark?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I believe I have even consented to ten days.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And be away two Sundays?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“No, Fanny, only one. Don’t be so censorious.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Don’t call me censorious, Mark; you know I am not so. But I am -so sorry. It is just what Lady Lufton won’t like. Besides, you were -away in Scotland two Sundays last month.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“In September, Fanny. And that is being censorious.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh, but, Mark, dear Mark! don’t say so. You know I don’t mean -it. But Lady Lufton does not like those Chaldicotes people. You know -Lord Lufton was with you the last time you were there; and how annoyed -she was!”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Lord Lufton won’t be with me now, for he is still in Scotland. And -the reason why I am going is this: Harold Smith and his wife will be -there, and I am very anxious to know more of them. I have no doubt -that Harold Smith will be in the government some day, and I cannot afford -to neglect such a man’s acquaintance.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But, Mark, what do you want of any government?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Well, Fanny, of course I am bound to say that I want nothing; -neither in one sense do I; but nevertheless, I shall go and meet the -Harold Smiths.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Could you not be back before Sunday?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I have promised to preach at Chaldicotes. Harold Smith is going -to lecture at Barchester, about the Australasian archipelago, and I am to -preach a charity sermon on the same subject. They want to send out -more missionaries.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“A charity sermon at Chaldicotes!”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And why not? The house will be quite full, you know; and I dare -say the Arabins will be there.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I think not; Mrs. Arabin may get on with Mrs. Harold Smith, -though I doubt that; but I’m sure she’s not fond of Mrs. Smith’s brother. -I don’t think she would stay at Chaldicotes.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And the bishop will probably be there for a day or two.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“That is much more likely, Mark. If the pleasure of meeting -Mrs. Proudie is taking you to Chaldicotes, I have not a word more to -say.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I am not a bit more fond of Mrs. Proudie, than you are, Fanny,” -said the vicar, with something like vexation in the tone of his voice, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[Pg 8]</span> -he thought that his wife was hard upon him. “But it is generally thought -that a parish clergyman does well to meet his bishop now and then. And -as I was invited there, especially to preach while all these people are staying -at the place, I could not well refuse.” And then he got up, and taking -his candlestick, escaped to his dressing-room.</p> - -<p class="pt">“But what am I to say to Lady Lufton?” his wife said to him, in the -course of the evening.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Just write her a note, and tell her that you find I had promised to -preach at Chaldicotes next Sunday. You’ll go, of course?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Yes: but I know she’ll be annoyed. You were away the last time -she had people there.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“It can’t be helped. She must put it down against Sarah Thompson. -She ought not to expect to win always.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I should not have minded it, if she had lost, as you call it, about -Sarah Thompson. That was a case in which you ought to have had your -own way.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And this other is a case in which I shall have it. It’s a pity that -there should be such a difference; isn’t it?”</p> - -<p class="pt">Then the wife perceived that, vexed as she was, it would be better that -she should say nothing further; and before she went to bed, she wrote the -note to Lady Lufton, as her husband recommended.</p> - - -<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> - -<p class="motto"><span class="smcap">The Framley Set, and the Chaldicotes Set.</span></p> - -<p>It will be necessary that I should say a word or two of some of the -people named in the few preceding pages, and also of the localities in which -they lived.</p> - -<p class="pt">Of Lady Lufton herself enough, perhaps, has been written to introduce -her to my readers. The Framley property belonged to her son; but as -Lufton Park—an ancient ramshackle place in another county—had heretofore -been the family residence of the Lufton family, Framley Court had -been apportioned to her for her residence for life. Lord Lufton himself -was still unmarried; and as he had no establishment at Lufton Park—which -indeed had not been inhabited since his grandfather died—he lived -with his mother when it suited him to live anywhere in that neighbourhood. -The widow would fain have seen more of him than he allowed her -to do. He had a shooting-lodge in Scotland, and apartments in London, -and a string of horses in Leicestershire—much to the disgust of the county -gentry around him, who held that their own hunting was as good as any -that England could afford. His lordship, however, paid his subscription -to the East Barsetshire pack, and then thought himself at liberty to follow -his own pleasure as to his own amusement.</p> - -<p class="pt">Framley itself was a pleasant country place, having about it nothing of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[Pg 9]</span> -seignorial dignity or grandeur, but possessing everything necessary for the -comfort of country life. The house was a low building of two stories, -built at different periods, and devoid of all pretensions to any style of -architecture; but the rooms, though not lofty, were warm and comfortable, -and the gardens were trim and neat beyond all others in the county. -Indeed, it was for its gardens only that Framley Court was celebrated.</p> - -<p class="pt">Village there was none, properly speaking. The high road went winding -about through the Framley paddocks, shrubberies, and wood-skirted -home fields, for a mile and a half, not two hundred yards of which ran in -a straight line; and there was a cross-road which passed down through the -domain, whereby there came to be a locality called Framley Cross. Here -stood the “Lufton Arms,” and here, at Framley Cross, the hounds occasionally -would meet; for the Framley woods were drawn in spite of the -young lord’s truant disposition; and then, at the Cross also, lived the shoemaker, -who kept the post-office.</p> - -<p class="pt">Framley church was distant from this just a quarter of a mile, and stood -immediately opposite to the chief entrance to Framley Court. It was but -a mean, ugly building, having been erected about a hundred years since, -when all churches then built were made to be mean and ugly; nor was -it large enough for the congregation, some of whom were thus driven to -the dissenting chapels, the Sions and Ebenezers, which had got themselves -established on each side of the parish, in putting down which Lady Lufton -thought that her pet parson was hardly as energetic as he might be. It -was, therefore, a matter near to Lady Lufton’s heart to see a new church -built, and she was urgent in her eloquence, both with her son and with the -vicar, to have this good work commenced.</p> - -<p class="pt">Beyond the church, but close to it, were the boys’ school and girls’ -school, two distinct buildings, which owed their erection to Lady Lufton’s -energy; then came a neat little grocer’s shop, the neat grocer being the -clerk and sexton, and the neat grocer’s wife, the pew-opener in the church. -Podgens was their name, and they were great favourites with her ladyship, -both having been servants up at the house.</p> - -<p class="pt">And here the road took a sudden turn to the left, turning, as it were, -away from Framley Court; and just beyond the turn was the vicarage, so -that there was a little garden path running from the back of the vicarage -grounds into the churchyard, cutting the Podgens’s off into an isolated -corner of their own;—from whence, to tell the truth, the vicar would have -been glad to banish them and their cabbages, could he have had the power -to do so. For has not the small vineyard of Naboth been always an eyesore -to neighbouring potentates?</p> - -<p class="pt">The potentate in this case had as little excuse as Ahab, for nothing in -the parsonage way could be more perfect than his parsonage. It had all -the details requisite for the house of a moderate gentleman with moderate -means, and none of those expensive superfluities which immoderate gentlemen -demand, or which themselves demand—immoderate means. And then -the gardens and paddocks were exactly suited to it; and everything was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[Pg 10]</span> -in good order;—not exactly new, so as to be raw and uncovered, and -redolent of workmen; but just at that era of their existence in which -newness gives way to comfortable homeliness.</p> - -<p class="pt">Other village at Framley there was none. At the back of the Court, -up one of those cross-roads, there was another small shop or two, and there -was a very neat cottage residence, in which lived the widow of a former -curate, another <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégé</span></i> of Lady Lufton’s; and there was a big, staring -brick house, in which the present curate lived; but this was a full mile -distant from the church, and farther from Framley Court, standing on -that cross-road which runs from Framley Cross in a direction away from -the mansion. This gentleman, the Rev. Evan Jones, might, from his age, -have been the vicar’s father; but he had been for many years curate of -Framley; and though he was personally disliked by Lady Lufton, as being -low church in his principles, and unsightly in his appearance, nevertheless, -she would not urge his removal. He had two or three pupils in that large -brick house, and if turned out from these and from his curacy, might find -it difficult to establish himself elsewhere. On this account, mercy was -extended to the Rev. E. Jones, and, in spite of his red face and awkward -big feet, he was invited to dine at Framley Court, with his plain daughter, -once in every three months.</p> - -<p class="pt">Over and above these, there was hardly a house in the parish of -Framley, outside the bounds of Framley Court, except those of farmers -and farm labourers; and yet the parish was of large extent.</p> - -<p class="pt">Framley is in the eastern division of the county of Barsetshire, which, -as all the world knows, is, politically speaking, as true blue a county as -any in England. There have been backslidings even here, it is true; but -then, in what county have there not been such backslidings? Where, in -these pinchbeck days, can we hope to find the old agricultural virtue in all -its purity? But, among those backsliders, I regret to say, that men now -reckon Lord Lufton. Not that he is a violent Whig, or perhaps that he is -a Whig at all. But he jeers and sneers at the old county doings; declares, -when solicited on the subject, that, as far as he is concerned, Mr. Bright -may sit for the county, if he pleases; and alleges, that being unfortunately -a peer, he has no right even to interest himself in the question. All this -is deeply regretted, for, in the old days, there was no portion of the county -more decidedly true blue than that Framley district; and, indeed, up to the -present day, the dowager is able to give an occasional helping hand.</p> - -<p class="pt">Chaldicotes is the seat of Nathaniel Sowerby, Esq., who, at the moment -supposed to be now present, is one of the members for the Western -Division of Barsetshire. But this Western Division can boast none of the -fine political attributes which grace its twin brother. It is decidedly Whig, -and is almost governed in its politics by one or two great Whig families.</p> - -<p class="pt">It has been said that Mark Robarts was about to pay a visit to Chaldicotes, -and it has been hinted that his wife would have been as well -pleased had this not been the case. Such was certainly the fact; for she, -dear, prudent, excellent wife as she was, knew that Mr. Sowerby was not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[Pg 11]</span> -the most eligible friend in the world for a young clergyman, and knew, also, -that there was but one other house in the whole county, the name of which -was so distasteful to Lady Lufton. The reasons for this were, I may say, -manifold. In the first place, Mr. Sowerby was a Whig, and was seated in -Parliament mainly by the interest of that great Whig autocrat the Duke -of Omnium, whose residence was more dangerous even than that of Mr. -Sowerby, and whom Lady Lufton regarded as an impersonation of Lucifer -upon earth. Mr. Sowerby, too, was unmarried—as indeed, also, was Lord -Lufton, much to his mother’s grief. Mr. Sowerby, it is true, was fifty, -whereas the young lord was as yet only twenty-six, but, nevertheless, her -ladyship was becoming anxious on the subject. In her mind, every man was -bound to marry as soon as he could maintain a wife; and she held an idea—a -quite private tenet, of which she was herself but imperfectly conscious—that -men in general were inclined to neglect this duty for their own selfish -gratifications, that the wicked ones encouraged the more innocent in this -neglect, and that many would not marry at all, were not an unseen coercion -exercised against them by the other sex. The Duke of Omnium was the -very head of all such sinners, and Lady Lufton greatly feared that her son -might be made subject to the baneful Omnium influence, by means of Mr. -Sowerby and Chaldicotes.</p> - -<p class="pt">And then Mr. Sowerby was known to be a very poor man, with a very -large estate. He had wasted, men said, much on electioneering, and more -in gambling. A considerable portion of his property had already gone -into the hands of the Duke, who, as a rule, bought up everything around -him that was to be purchased. Indeed it was said of him by his enemies, -that so covetous was he of Barsetshire property, that he would lead a -young neighbour on to his ruin, in order that he might get his land. -What—oh! what if he should come to be possessed in this way of any of -the fair acres of Framley Court? What if he should become possessed of -them all? It can hardly be wondered at that Lady Lufton should not like -Chaldicotes.</p> - -<p class="pt">The Chaldicotes set, as Lady Lufton called them, were in every way -opposed to what a set should be according to her ideas. She liked cheerful, -quiet, well-to-do people, who loved their Church, their country, and their -Queen, and who were not too anxious to make a noise in the world. She -desired that all the farmers round her should be able to pay their rents -without trouble, that all the old women should have warm flannel petticoats, -that the working men should be saved from rheumatism by healthy -food and dry houses, that they should all be obedient to their pastors -and masters—temporal as well as spiritual. That was her idea of loving -her country. She desired also that the copses should be full of pheasants, -the stubble-field of partridges, and the gorse covers of foxes;—in that way, -also, she loved her country. She had ardently longed, during that Crimean -war, that the Russians might be beaten—but not by the French, to the -exclusion of the English, as had seemed to her to be too much the case; -and hardly by the English under the dictatorship of Lord Palmerston.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[Pg 12]</span> -Indeed, she had had but little faith in that war after Lord Aberdeen had -been expelled. If, indeed, Lord Derby could have come in!</p> - -<p class="pt">But now as to this Chaldicotes set. After all, there was nothing so very -dangerous about them; for it was in London, not in the country, that Mr. -Sowerby indulged, if he did indulge, his bachelor mal-practices. Speaking -of them as a set, the chief offender was Mr. Harold Smith, or perhaps his -wife. He also was a member of Parliament, and, as many thought, a rising -man. His father had been for many years a debater in the House, and had -held high office. Harold, in early life, had intended himself for the -cabinet; and if working hard at his trade could ensure success, he ought -to obtain it sooner or later. He had already filled more than one subordinate -station, had been at the Treasury, and for a month or two at the -Admiralty, astonishing official mankind by his diligence. Those last-named -few months had been under Lord Aberdeen, with whom he had -been forced to retire. He was a younger son, and not possessed of any -large fortune. Politics as a profession was therefore of importance to him. -He had in early life married a sister of Mr. Sowerby; and as the lady was -some six or seven years older than himself, and had brought with her but -a scanty dowry, people thought that in this matter Mr. Harold Smith had -not been perspicacious. Mr. Harold Smith was not personally a popular -man with any party, though some judged him to be eminently useful. He -was laborious, well-informed, and, on the whole, honest; but he was conceited, -long-winded, and pompous.</p> - -<p class="pt">Mrs. Harold Smith was the very opposite of her lord. She was a clever, -bright woman, good-looking for her time of life—and she was now over -forty—with a keen sense of the value of all worldly things, and a keen relish -for all the world’s pleasures. She was neither laborious, nor well-informed, -nor perhaps altogether honest—what woman ever understood the necessity -or recognized the advantage of political honesty? but then she was neither -dull nor pompous, and if she was conceited, she did not show it. She was -a disappointed woman, as regards her husband; seeing that she had -married him on the speculation that he would at once become politically -important; and as yet Mr. Smith had not quite fulfilled the prophecies of -his early life.</p> - -<p class="pt">And Lady Lufton, when she spoke of the Chaldicotes set, distinctly -included, in her own mind, the Bishop of Barchester, and his wife and -daughter. Seeing that Bishop Proudie was, of course, a man much -addicted to religion and to religious thinking, and that Mr. Sowerby himself -had no peculiar religious sentiments whatever, there would not at first -sight appear to be ground for much intercourse, and perhaps there was not -much of such intercourse; but Mrs. Proudie and Mrs. Harold Smith were -firm friends of four or five years’ standing—ever since the Proudies came -into the diocese; and therefore the bishop was usually taken to Chaldicotes -whenever Mrs. Smith paid her brother a visit. Now Bishop Proudie was -by no means a High Church dignitary, and Lady Lufton had never forgiven -him for coming into that diocese. She had, instinctively, a high respect<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[Pg 13]</span> -for the episcopal office; but of Bishop Proudie himself she hardly thought -better than she did of Mr. Sowerby, or of that fabricator of evil, the Duke -of Omnium. Whenever Mr. Robarts would plead that in going anywhere -he would have the benefit of meeting the bishop, Lady Lufton would -slightly curl her upper lip. She could not say in words, that Bishop -Proudie—bishop as he certainly must be called—was no better than he -ought to be; but by that curl of her lip she did explain to those who -knew her that such was the inner feeling of her heart.</p> - -<p class="pt">And then it was understood—Mark Robarts, at least, had so heard, and -the information soon reached Framley Court—that Mr. Supplehouse was -to make one of the Chaldicotes party. Now Mr. Supplehouse was a worse -companion for a gentlemanlike, young, High Church, conservative county -parson than even Harold Smith. He also was in Parliament, and had -been extolled during the early days of that Russian war by some portion -of the metropolitan daily press, as the only man who could save the -country. Let him be in the ministry, the <i>Jupiter</i> had said, and there -would be some hope of reform, some chance that England’s ancient glory -would not be allowed in these perilous times to go headlong to oblivion. -And upon this the ministry, not anticipating much salvation from Mr. -Supplehouse, but willing, as they usually are, to have the <i>Jupiter</i> at their -back, did send for that gentleman, and gave him some footing among -them. But how can a man born to save a nation, and to lead a people, be -content to fill the chair of an under-secretary? Supplehouse was not -content, and soon gave it to be understood that his place was much higher -than any yet tendered to him. The seals of high office, or war to the -knife, was the alternative which he offered to a much-belaboured Head of -Affairs—nothing doubting that the Head of Affairs would recognize the -claimant’s value, and would have before his eyes a wholesome fear of the -<i>Jupiter</i>. But the Head of Affairs, much belaboured as he was, knew that -he might pay too high even for Mr. Supplehouse and the <i>Jupiter</i>; and the -saviour of the nation was told that he might swing his tomahawk. Since -that time he had been swinging his tomahawk, but not with so much effect -as had been anticipated. He also was very intimate with Mr. Sowerby, and -was decidedly one of the Chaldicotes set.</p> - -<p class="pt">And there were many others included in the stigma whose sins were -political or religious rather than moral. But they were gall and wormwood -to Lady Lufton, who regarded them as children of the Lost One, and -who grieved with a mother’s grief when she knew that her son was among -them, and felt all a patron’s anger when she heard that her clerical <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">protégé</span></i> -was about to seek such society. Mrs. Robarts might well say that Lady -Lufton would be annoyed.</p> - -<p class="pt">“You won’t call at the house before you go, will you?” the wife asked -on the following morning. He was to start after lunch on that day, driving -himself in his own gig, so as to reach Chaldicotes, some twenty-four miles -distant, before dinner.</p> - -<p class="pt">“No, I think not. What good should I do?”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[Pg 14]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“Well, I can’t explain; but I think I should call: partly, perhaps, -to show her that as I had determined to go, I was not afraid of telling -her so.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Afraid! That’s nonsense, Fanny. I’m not afraid of her. But I don’t -see why I should bring down upon myself the disagreeable things she will -say. Besides, I have not time. I must walk up and see Jones about the -duties; and then, what with getting ready, I shall have enough to do to -get off in time.”</p> - -<p class="pt">He paid his visit to Mr. Jones, the curate, feeling no qualms of conscience -there, as he rather boasted of all the members of Parliament he was -going to meet, and of the bishop who would be with them. Mr. Evan -Jones was only his curate, and in speaking to him on the matter he could -talk as though it were quite the proper thing for a vicar to meet his bishop -at the house of a county member. And one would be inclined to say that -it was proper: only why could he not talk of it in the same tone to Lady -Lufton? And then, having kissed his wife and children, he drove off, well -pleased with his prospect for the coming ten days, but already anticipating -some discomfort on his return.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the three following days, Mrs. Robarts did not meet her ladyship. -She did not exactly take any steps to avoid such a meeting, but she did -not purposely go up to the big house. She went to her school as usual, -and made one or two calls among the farmers’ wives, but put no foot within -the Framley Court grounds. She was braver than her husband, but even -she did not wish to anticipate the evil day.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the Saturday, just before it began to get dusk, when she was thinking -of preparing for the fatal plunge, her friend, Lady Meredith, came -to her.</p> - -<p class="pt">“So, Fanny, we shall again be so unfortunate as to miss Mr. Robarts,” -said her ladyship.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Yes. Did you ever know anything so unlucky? But he had promised -Mr. Sowerby before he heard that you were coming. Pray do not -think that he would have gone away had he known it.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“We should have been sorry to keep him from so much more -amusing a party.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Now, Justinia, you are unfair. You intend to imply that he has -gone to Chaldicotes, because he likes it better than Framley Court; but -that is not the case. I hope Lady Lufton does not think that it is.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Lady Meredith laughed as she put her arm round her friend’s waist. -“Don’t lose your eloquence in defending him to me,” she said. “You’ll -want all that for my mother.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But is your mother angry?” asked Mrs. Robarts, showing by -her countenance, how eager she was for true tidings on the subject.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Well, Fanny, you know her ladyship as well as I do. She thinks so -very highly of the vicar of Framley, that she does begrudge him to those -politicians at Chaldicotes.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But, Justinia, the bishop is to be there, you know.”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[Pg 15]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“I don’t think that that consideration will at all reconcile my mother -to the gentleman’s absence. He ought to be very proud, I know, to find -that he is so much thought of. But come, Fanny, I want you to walk back -with me, and you can dress at the house. And now we’ll go and look -at the children.”</p> - -<p class="pt">After that, as they walked together to Framley Court, Mrs. Robarts -made her friend promise that she would stand by her if any serious attack -were made on the absent clergyman.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Are you going up to your room at once?” said the vicar’s wife, as -soon as they were inside the porch leading into the hall. Lady Meredith -immediately knew what her friend meant, and decided that the evil day -should not be postponed. “We had better go in, and have it over,” she -said, “and then we shall be comfortable for the evening.” So the drawing-room -door was opened, and there was Lady Lufton alone upon the sofa.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Now, mamma,” said the daughter, “you mustn’t scold Fanny much -about Mr. Robarts. He has gone to preach a charity sermon before the -bishop, and under those circumstances, perhaps, he could not refuse.” -This was a stretch on the part of Lady Meredith—put in with much good -nature, no doubt; but still a stretch; for no one had supposed that the -bishop would remain at Chaldicotes for the Sunday.</p> - -<p class="pt">“How do you do, Fanny?” said Lady Lufton, getting up. “I am -not going to scold her; and I don’t know how you can talk such nonsense, -Justinia. Of course, we are very sorry not to have Mr. Robarts; more -especially as he was not here the last Sunday that Sir George was with us. -I do like to see Mr. Robarts in his own church, certainly; and I don’t like -any other clergyman there as well. If Fanny takes that for scolding, -why——”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh! no, Lady Lufton; and it’s so kind of you to say so. But Mr. -Robarts was so sorry that he had accepted this invitation to Chaldicotes, -before he heard that Sir George was coming, and——”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh, I know that Chaldicotes has great attractions which we cannot -offer,” said Lady Lufton.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Indeed, it was not that. But he was asked to preach, you know; -and Mr. Harold Smith——” Poor Fanny was only making it worse. -Had she been worldly wise, she would have accepted the little compliment -implied in Lady Lufton’s first rebuke, and then have held her -peace.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh, yes; the Harold Smiths! They are irresistible, I know. How -could any man refuse to join a party, graced both by Mrs. Harold Smith -and Mrs. Proudie—even though his duty should require him to stay -away?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Now, mamma—” said Justinia.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Well, my dear, what am I to say? You would not wish me to tell -a fib. I don’t like Mrs. Harold Smith—at least, what I hear of her; for -it has not been my fortune to meet her since her marriage. It may be -conceited; but to own the truth, I think that Mr. Robarts would be better<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[Pg 16]</span> -off with us at Framley than with the Harold Smiths at Chaldicotes,—even -though Mrs. Proudie be thrown into the bargain.”</p> - -<p class="pt">It was nearly dark, and therefore the rising colour in the face of -Mrs. Robarts could not be seen. She, however, was too good a wife to -hear these things said without some anger within her bosom. She could -blame her husband in her own mind; but it was intolerable to her that -others should blame him in her hearing.</p> - -<p class="pt">“He would undoubtedly be better off,” she said; “but then, Lady -Lufton, people can’t always go exactly where they will be best off. Gentlemen -sometimes must——”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Well—well, my dear, that will do. He has not taken you, at any -rate; and so we will forgive him.” And Lady Lufton kissed her. “As it -is,”—and she affected a low whisper between the two young wives—“as -it is, we must e’en put up with poor old Evan Jones. He is to be here to-night, -and we must go and dress to receive him.”</p> - -<p class="pt">And so they went off. Lady Lufton was quite good enough at heart -to like Mrs. Robarts all the better for standing up for her absent lord.</p> - - -<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> - -<p class="motto"><span class="smcap">Chaldicotes.</span></p> - -<p>Chaldicotes is a house of much more pretension than Framley Court. -Indeed, if one looks at the ancient marks about it, rather than at those of -the present day, it is a place of very considerable pretension. There is an -old forest, not altogether belonging to the property, but attached to it, -called the Chase of Chaldicotes. A portion of this forest comes up close -behind the mansion, and of itself gives a character and celebrity to the -place. The Chase of Chaldicotes—the greater part of it, at least—is, as -all the world knows, Crown property, and now, in these utilitarian days, is -to be disforested. In former times it was a great forest, stretching half -across the country, almost as far as Silverbridge; and there are bits of it, -here and there, still to be seen at intervals throughout the whole distance; -but the larger remaining portion, consisting of aged hollow oaks, centuries -old, and wide-spreading withered beeches, stands in the two parishes of -Chaldicotes and Uffley. People still come from afar to see the oaks -of Chaldicotes, and to hear their feet rustle among the thick autumn -leaves. But they will soon come no longer. The giants of past ages are -to give way to wheat and turnips; a ruthless Chancellor of the Exchequer, -disregarding old associations and rural beauty, requires money returns -from the lands; and the Chase of Chaldicotes is to vanish from the earth’s -surface.</p> - -<p class="pt">Some part of it, however, is the private property of Mr. Sowerby, who -hitherto, through all his pecuniary distresses, has managed to save from the -axe and the auction-mart that portion of his paternal heritage. The house<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[Pg 17]</span> -of Chaldicotes is a large stone building, probably of the time of Charles -the Second. It is approached on both fronts by a heavy double flight of -stone steps. In the front of the house a long, solemn, straight avenue -through a double row of lime-trees, leads away to lodge-gates, which -stand in the centre of the village of Chaldicotes; but to the rear the windows -open upon four different vistas, which run down through the forest: -four open green rides, which all converge together at a large iron gateway, -the barrier which divides the private grounds from the Chase. The -Sowerbys, for many generations, have been rangers of the Chase of Chaldicotes, -thus having almost as wide an authority over the Crown forest as over -their own. But now all this is to cease, for the forest will be disforested.</p> - -<p class="pt">It was nearly dark as Mark Robarts drove up through the avenue of -lime-trees to the hall-door; but it was easy to see that the house, which -was dead and silent as the grave through nine months of the year, was now -alive in all its parts. There were lights in many of the windows, and a -noise of voices came from the stables, and servants were moving about, -and dogs barked, and the dark gravel before the front steps was cut up -with many a coach-wheel.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh, be that you, sir, Mr. Robarts?” said a groom, taking the parson’s -horse by the head, and touching his own hat. “I hope I see your reverence -well.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Quite well, Bob, thank you. All well at Chaldicotes?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Pretty bobbish, Mr. Robarts. Deal of life going on here now, sir. -The bishop and his lady came this morning.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh—ah—yes! I understood they were to be here. Any of the -young ladies?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“One young lady. Miss Olivia, I think they call her, your reverence.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And how’s Mr. Sowerby?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Very well, your reverence. He, and Mr. Harold Smith, and -Mr. Fothergill—that’s the duke’s man of business, you know—is getting -off their horses now in the stable-yard there.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Home from hunting—eh, Bob?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Yes, sir, just home, this minute.” And then Mr. Robarts walked -into the house, his portmanteau following on a footboy’s shoulder.</p> - -<p class="pt">It will be seen that our young vicar was very intimate at Chaldicotes; -so much so that the groom knew him, and talked to him about the people -in the house. Yes; he was intimate there: much more than he had given, -the Framley people to understand. Not that he had wilfully and overtly -deceived any one; not that he had ever spoken a false word about Chaldicotes. -But he had never boasted at home that he and Sowerby were near -allies. Neither had he told them there how often Mr. Sowerby and Lord -Lufton were together in London. Why trouble women with such matters? -Why annoy so excellent a woman as Lady Lufton?</p> - -<p class="pt">And then Mr. Sowerby was one whose intimacy few young men would -wish to reject. He was fifty, and had lived, perhaps, not the most salutary -life; but he dressed young, and usually looked well. He was bald, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[Pg 18]</span> -a good forehead, and sparkling moist eyes. He was a clever man, and a -pleasant companion, and always good-humoured when it so suited him. -He was a gentleman, too, of high breeding and good birth, whose ancestors -had been known in that county—longer, the farmers around -would boast, than those of any other landowner in it, unless it be the -Thornes of Ullathorne, or perhaps the Greshams of Greshamsbury—much -longer than the De Courcys at Courcy Castle. As for the Duke of -Omnium, he, comparatively speaking, was a new man.</p> - -<p class="pt">And then he was a member of Parliament, a friend of some men in -power, and of others who might be there; a man who could talk about -the world as one knowing the matter of which he talked. And moreover, -whatever might be his ways of life at other times, when in the presence of -a clergyman he rarely made himself offensive to clerical tastes. He neither -swore, nor brought his vices on the carpet, nor sneered at the faith of the -church. If he was no churchman himself, he at least knew how to live -with those who were.</p> - -<p class="pt">How was it possible that such a one as our vicar should not relish the -intimacy of Mr. Sowerby? It might be very well, he would say to himself, -for a woman like Lady Lufton to turn up her nose at him—for Lady -Lufton, who spent ten months of the year at Framley Court, and who -during those ten months, and for the matter of that, during the two months -also which she spent in London, saw no one out of her own set. Women -did not understand such things, the vicar said to himself; even his own -wife—good, and nice, and sensible, and intelligent as she was—even she -did not understand that a man in the world must meet all sorts of men; -and that in these days it did not do for a clergyman to be a hermit.</p> - -<p class="pt">’Twas thus that Mark Robarts argued when he found himself called -upon to defend himself before the bar of his own conscience for going -to Chaldicotes and increasing his intimacy with Mr. Sowerby. He did -know that Mr. Sowerby was a dangerous man; he was aware that he -was over head and ears in debt, and that he had already entangled young -Lord Lufton in some pecuniary embarrassment; his conscience did tell -him that it would be well for him, as one of Christ’s soldiers, to look out -for companions of a different stamp. But nevertheless he went to Chaldicotes, -not satisfied with himself indeed, but repeating to himself a great -many arguments why he should be so satisfied.</p> - -<p class="pt">He was shown into the drawing-room at once, and there he found -Mrs. Harold Smith, with Mrs. and Miss Proudie, and a lady whom he had -never before seen, and whose name he did not at first hear mentioned.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Is that Mr. Robarts?” said Mrs. Harold Smith, getting up to greet -him, and screening her pretended ignorance under the veil of the darkness. -“And have you really driven over four-and-twenty miles of Barsetshire -roads on such a day as this to assist us in our little difficulties? Well, we -can promise you gratitude at any rate.”</p> - -<p class="pt">And then the vicar shook hands with Mrs. Proudie, in that deferential -manner which is due from a vicar to his bishop’s wife; and Mrs. Proudie<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[Pg 19]</span> -returned the greeting with all that smiling condescension which a bishop’s -wife should show to a vicar. Miss Proudie was not quite so civil. Had -Mr. Robarts been still unmarried, she also could have smiled sweetly; -but she had been exercising smiles on clergymen too long to waste them -now on a married parish parson.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And what are the difficulties, Mrs. Smith, in which I am to assist -you?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“We have six or seven gentlemen here, Mr. Robarts, and they always -go out hunting before breakfast, and they never come back—I was going -to say—till after dinner. I wish it were so, for then we should not have to -wait for them.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Excepting Mr. Supplehouse, you know,” said the unknown lady, -in a loud voice.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And he is generally shut up in the library, writing articles.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“He’d be better employed if he were trying to break his neck like the -others,” said the unknown lady.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Only he would never succeed,” said Mrs. Harold Smith. “But -perhaps, Mr. Robarts, you are as bad as the rest; perhaps you, too, will -be hunting to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“My dear Mrs. Smith!” said Mrs. Proudie, in a tone denoting slight -reproach, and modified horror.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh! I forgot. No, of course, you won’t be hunting, Mr. Robarts; -you’ll only be wishing that you could.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Why can’t he?” said the lady with the loud voice.</p> - -<p class="pt">“My dear Miss Dunstable! a clergyman hunt, while he is staying in -the same house with the bishop? Think of the proprieties!”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh—ah! The bishop wouldn’t like it—wouldn’t he? Now, do tell -me, sir, what would the bishop do to you if you did hunt?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“It would depend upon his mood at the time, madam,” said Mr. Robarts. -“If that were very stern, he might perhaps have me beheaded before the -palace gates.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Mrs. Proudie drew herself up in her chair, showing that she did not -like the tone of the conversation; and Miss Proudie fixed her eyes -vehemently on her book, showing that Miss Dunstable and her conversation -were both beneath her notice.</p> - -<p class="pt">“If these gentlemen do not mean to break their necks to-night,” said -Mrs. Harold Smith, “I wish they’d let us know it. It’s half-past six -already.”</p> - -<p class="pt">And then Mr. Robarts gave them to understand that no such catastrophe -could be looked for that day, as Mr. Sowerby and the other sportsmen -were within the stable-yard when he entered the door.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Then, ladies, we may as well dress,” said Mrs. Harold Smith. But -as she moved towards the door, it opened, and a short gentleman, with -a slow, quiet step, entered the room; but was not yet to be distinguished -through the dusk by the eyes of Mr. Robarts. “Oh! bishop, is that you?” -said Mrs. Smith. “Here is one of the luminaries of your diocese.” And<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[Pg 20]</span> -then the bishop, feeling through the dark, made his way up to the vicar -and shook him cordially by the hand. “He was delighted to meet -Mr. Robarts at Chaldicotes,” he said—“quite delighted. Was he not going -to preach on behalf of the Papuan Mission next Sunday? Ah! so he, the -bishop, had heard. It was a good work, an excellent work.” And then -Dr. Proudie expressed himself as much grieved that he could not remain -at Chaldicotes, and hear the sermon. It was plain that his bishop thought -no ill of him on account of his intimacy with Mr. Sowerby. But then -he felt in his own heart that he did not much regard his bishop’s -opinion.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Ah, Robarts, I’m delighted to see you,” said Mr. Sowerby, when -they met on the drawing-room rug before dinner. “You know Harold -Smith? Yes, of course you do. Well, who else is there? Oh! Supplehouse. -Mr. Supplehouse, allow me to introduce to you my friend -Mr. Robarts. It is he who will extract the five-pound note out of your -pocket next Sunday for these poor Papuans whom we are going to Christianize. -That is, if Harold Smith does not finish the work out of hand at -his Saturday lecture. And, Robarts, you have seen the bishop, of course:” -this he said in a whisper. “A fine thing to be a bishop, isn’t it? I wish -I had half your chance. But, my dear fellow, I’ve made such a mistake; -I haven’t got a bachelor parson for Miss Proudie. You must help me out, -and take her in to dinner.” And then the great gong sounded, and off they -went in pairs.</p> - -<p class="pt">At dinner Mark found himself seated between Miss Proudie and the -lady whom he had heard named as Miss Dunstable. Of the former he was -not very fond, and, in spite of his host’s petition, was not inclined to play -bachelor parson for her benefit. With the other lady he would willingly -have chatted during the dinner, only that everybody else at table seemed to -be intent on doing the same thing. She was neither young, nor beautiful, -nor peculiarly ladylike; yet she seemed to enjoy a popularity which must -have excited the envy of Mr. Supplehouse, and which certainly was not -altogether to the taste of Mrs. Proudie—who, however, fêted her as much -as did the others. So that our clergyman found himself unable to obtain -more than an inconsiderable share of the lady’s attention.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Bishop,” said she, speaking across the table, “we have missed you so -all day! we have had no one on earth to say a word to us.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“My dear Miss Dunstable, had I known that——But I really was -engaged on business of some importance.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I don’t believe in business of importance; do you, Mrs. Smith?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Do I not?” said Mrs. Smith. “If you were married to Mr. Harold -Smith for one week, you’d believe in it.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Should I, now? What a pity that I can’t have that chance of improving -my faith. But you are a man of business, also, Mr. Supplehouse; so -they tell me.” And she turned to her neighbour on her right hand.</p> - -<p class="pt">“I cannot compare myself to Harold Smith,” said he. “But perhaps I -may equal the bishop.”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[Pg 21]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“What does a man do, now, when he sets himself down to business? -How does he set about it? What are his tools? A quire of blotting -paper, I suppose, to begin with?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“That depends, I should say, on his trade. A shoemaker begins by -waxing his thread.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And Mr. Harold Smith——?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“By counting up his yesterday’s figures, generally, I should say; or -else by unrolling a ball of red tape. Well-docketed papers and statistical -facts are his forte.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And what does a bishop do? Can you tell me that?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“He sends forth to his clergy either blessings or blowings-up, according -to the state of his digestive organs. But Mrs. Proudie can explain all that -to you with the greatest accuracy.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Can she, now? I understand what you mean, but I don’t believe a -word of it. The bishop manages his own affairs himself, quite as much as -you do, or Mr. Harold Smith.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I, Miss Dunstable?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Yes, you.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“But I, unluckily, have not a wife to manage them for me.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Then you should not laugh at those who have, for you don’t know -what you may come to yourself, when you’re married.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Mr. Supplehouse began to make a pretty speech, saying that he would -be delighted to incur any danger in that respect to which he might be -subjected by the companionship of Miss Dunstable. But before he was -half through it, she had turned her back upon him, and began a conversation -with Mark Robarts.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Have you much work in your parish, Mr. Robarts?” she asked. -Now, Mark was not aware that she knew his name, or the fact of his -having a parish, and was rather surprised by the question. And he had -not quite liked the tone in which she had seemed to speak of the bishop -and his work. His desire for her further acquaintance was therefore -somewhat moderated, and he was not prepared to answer her question -with much zeal.</p> - -<p class="pt">“All parish clergymen have plenty of work, if they choose to do it.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Ah, that is it; is it not, Mr. Robarts? If they choose to do it? A -great many do—many that I know, do; and see what a result they have. -But many neglect it—and see what a result <i>they</i> have. I think it ought -to be the happiest life that a man can lead, that of a parish clergyman, -with a wife and family, and a sufficient income.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I think it is,” said Mark Robarts, asking himself whether the contentment -accruing to him from such blessings had made him satisfied at all -points. He had all these things of which Miss Dunstable spoke, and yet -he had told his wife, the other day, that he could not afford to neglect the -acquaintance of a rising politician like Harold Smith.</p> - -<p class="pt">“What I find fault with is this,” continued Miss Dunstable, “that -we expect clergymen to do their duty, and don’t give them a sufficient<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[Pg 22]</span> -income—give them hardly any income at all. Is it not a scandal, that -an educated gentleman with a family should be made to work half his -life, and perhaps the whole, for a pittance of seventy pounds a year?”</p> - -<p class="pt">Mark said that it was a scandal, and thought of Mr. Evan Jones and -his daughter;—and thought also of his own worth, and his own house, and -his own nine hundred a year.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And yet you clergymen are so proud—aristocratic would be the -genteel word, I know—that you won’t take the money of common, ordinary -poor people. You must be paid from land and endowments, from tithe and -church property. You can’t bring yourself to work for what you earn, as -lawyers and doctors do. It is better that curates should starve than -undergo such ignominy as that.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“It is a long subject, Miss Dunstable.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“A very long one; and that means that I am not to say any more -about it.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I did not mean that exactly.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh! but you did though, Mr. Robarts. And I can take a hint of that -kind when I get it. You clergymen like to keep those long subjects for -your sermons, when no one can answer you. Now if I have a longing -heart’s desire for anything at all in this world, it is to be able to get up -into a pulpit, and preach a sermon.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“You can’t conceive how soon that appetite would pall upon you, after -its first indulgence.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“That would depend upon whether I could get people to listen to me. -It does not pall upon Mr. Spurgeon, I suppose.” Then her attention was -called away by some question from Mr. Sowerby, and Mark Robarts found -himself bound to address his conversation to Miss Proudie. Miss Proudie, -however, was not thankful, and gave him little but monosyllables for his -pains.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Of course you know Harold Smith is going to give us a lecture about -these islanders,” Mr. Sowerby said to him, as they sat round the fire -over their wine after dinner. Mark said that he had been so informed, and -should be delighted to be one of the listeners.</p> - -<p class="pt">“You are bound to do that, as he is going to listen to you the day -afterwards—or, at any rate, to pretend to do so, which is as much as you -will do for him. It’ll be a terrible bore—the lecture I mean, not the -sermon.” And he spoke very low into his friend’s ear. “Fancy having to -drive ten miles after dusk, and ten miles back, to hear Harold Smith talk -for two hours about Borneo! One must do it, you know.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I daresay it will be very interesting.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“My dear fellow, you haven’t undergone so many of these things as -I have. But he’s right to do it. It’s his line of life; and when a man -begins a thing he ought to go on with it. Where’s Lufton all this -time?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“In Scotland, when I last heard from him; but he’s probably at Melton -now.”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[Pg 23]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“It’s deuced shabby of him, not hunting here in his own county. -He escapes all the bore of going to lectures, and giving feeds to the neighbours; -that’s why he treats us so. He has no idea of his duty, has he?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Lady Lufton does all that, you know.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I wish I’d a Mrs. Sowerby <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mère</span></i> to do it for me. But then Lufton -has no constituents to look after—lucky dog! By-the-by, has he spoken -to you about selling that outlying bit of land of his in Oxfordshire? It -belongs to the Lufton property, and yet it doesn’t. In my mind it gives -more trouble than it’s worth.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Lord Lufton had spoken to Mark about this sale, and had explained to -him that such a sacrifice was absolutely necessary, in consequence of certain -pecuniary transactions between him, Lord Lufton, and Mr. Sowerby. But -it was found impracticable to complete the business without Lady Lufton’s -knowledge, and her son had commissioned Mr. Robarts not only to inform -her ladyship, but to talk her over, and to appease her wrath. This commission -he had not yet attempted to execute, and it was probable that this -visit to Chaldicotes would not do much to facilitate the business.</p> - -<p class="pt">“They are the most magnificent islands under the sun,” said Harold -Smith to the bishop.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Are they, indeed?” said the bishop, opening his eyes wide, and -assuming a look of intense interest.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And the most intelligent people.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Dear me!” said the bishop.</p> - -<p class="pt">“All they want is guidance, encouragement, instruction——”</p> - -<p class="pt">“And Christianity,” suggested the bishop.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And Christianity, of course,” said Mr. Smith, remembering that he -was speaking to a dignitary of the Church. It was well to humour such -people, Mr. Smith thought. But the Christianity was to be done in the -Sunday sermon, and was not part of his work.</p> - -<p class="pt">“And how do you intend to begin with them?” asked Mr. Supplehouse, -the business of whose life it had been to suggest difficulties.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Begin with them—oh—why—it’s very easy to begin with them. -The difficulty is to go on with them, after the money is all spent. We’ll -begin by explaining to them the benefits of civilization.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Capital plan!” said Mr. Supplehouse. “But how do you set about it, -Smith?”</p> - -<p class="pt">“How do we set about it? How did we set about it with Australia -and America? It is very easy to criticize; but in such matters the great -thing is to put one’s shoulder to the wheel.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“We sent our felons to Australia,” said Supplehouse, “and they began -the work for us. And as to America, we exterminated the people instead -of civilizing them.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“We did not exterminate the inhabitants of India,” said Harold Smith, -angrily.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Nor have we attempted to Christianize them, as the bishop so properly -wishes to do with your islanders.”</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[Pg 24]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">“Supplehouse, you are not fair,” said Mr. Sowerby, “neither to -Harold Smith nor to us;—you are making him rehearse his lecture, -which is bad for him; and making us hear the rehearsal, which is bad -for us.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Supplehouse belongs to a clique which monopolizes the wisdom of -England,” said Harold Smith; “or, at any rate, thinks that it does. -But the worst of them is that they are given to talk leading articles.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Better that, than talk articles which are not leading,” said Mr. -Supplehouse. “Some first-class official men do that.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Shall I meet you at the duke’s next week, Mr. Robarts,” said the -bishop to him, soon after they had gone into the drawing-room.</p> - -<p class="pt">Meet him at the duke’s!—the established enemy of Barsetshire mankind, -as Lady Lufton regarded his grace! No idea of going to the duke’s -had ever entered our hero’s mind; nor had he been aware that the duke -was about to entertain any one.</p> - -<p class="pt">“No, my lord; I think not. Indeed, I have no acquaintance with -his grace.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Oh—ah! I did not know. Because Mr. Sowerby is going; and so -are the Harold Smiths, and, I think, Mr. Supplehouse. An excellent man -is the duke;—that is, as regards all the county interests,” added the bishop, -remembering that the moral character of his bachelor grace was not the -very best in the world.</p> - -<p class="pt">And then his lordship began to ask some questions about the church -affairs of Framley, in which a little interest as to Framley Court was also -mixed up, when he was interrupted by a rather sharp voice, to which he -instantly attended.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Bishop,” said the rather sharp voice; and the bishop trotted across -the room to the back of the sofa, on which his wife was sitting.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Miss Dunstable thinks that she will be able to come to us for a couple -of days, after we leave the duke’s.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I shall be delighted above all things,” said the bishop, bowing low -to the dominant lady of the day. For be it known to all men, that Miss -Dunstable was the great heiress of that name.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Mrs. Proudie is so very kind as to say that she will take me in, with -my poodle, parrot, and pet old woman.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“I tell Miss Dunstable, that we shall have quite room for any of her -suite,” said Mrs. Proudie. “And that it will give us no trouble.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“‘The labour we delight in physics pain,’” said the gallant bishop, -bowing low, and putting his hand upon his heart.</p> - -<p class="pt">In the meantime, Mr. Fothergill had got hold of Mark Robarts. Mr. -Fothergill was a gentleman, and a magistrate of the county, but he occupied -the position of managing man on the Duke of Omnium’s estates. He was -not exactly his agent; that is to say, he did not receive his rents; but he -“managed” for him, saw people, went about the county, wrote letters, -supported the electioneering interest, did popularity when it was too much -trouble for the duke to do it himself, and was, in fact, invaluable. People<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[Pg 25]</span> -in West Barsetshire would often say that they did not know what <i>on earth</i> -the duke would do, if it were not for Mr. Fothergill. Indeed, Mr. Fothergill -was useful to the duke.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Mr. Robarts,” he said, “I am very happy to have the pleasure of -meeting you—very happy, indeed. I have often heard of you from our -friend Sowerby.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Mark bowed, and said that he was delighted to have the honour of -making Mr. Fothergill’s acquaintance.</p> - -<p class="pt">“I am commissioned by the Duke of Omnium,” continued Mr. Fothergill, -“to say how glad he will be if you will join his grace’s party at -Gatherum Castle, next week. The bishop will be there, and indeed nearly -the whole set who are here now. The duke would have written when he -heard that you were to be at Chaldicotes; but things were hardly quite -arranged then, so his grace has left it for me to tell you how happy he -will be to make your acquaintance in his own house. I have spoken to -Sowerby,” continued Mr. Fothergill, “and he very much hopes that you -will be able to join us.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Mark felt that his face became red when this proposition was made to -him. The party in the county to which he properly belonged—he and his -wife, and all that made him happy and respectable—looked upon the Duke -of Omnium with horror and amazement; and now he had absolutely -received an invitation to the duke’s house! A proposition was made to -him that he should be numbered among the duke’s friends!</p> - -<p class="pt">And though in one sense he was sorry that the proposition was made to -him, yet in another he was proud of it. It is not every young man, let his -profession be what it may, who can receive overtures of friendship from -dukes without some elation. Mark, too, had risen in the world, as far as -he had yet risen, by knowing great people; and he certainly had an ambition -to rise higher. I will not degrade him by calling him a tuft-hunter; -but he undoubtedly had a feeling that the paths most pleasant for a -clergyman’s feet were those which were trodden by the great ones of -the earth.</p> - -<p class="pt">Nevertheless, at the moment he declined the duke’s invitation. He was -very much flattered, he said, but the duties of his parish would require him -to return direct from Chaldicotes to Framley.</p> - -<p class="pt">“You need not give me an answer to-night, you know,” said Mr. Fothergill. -“Before the week is past, we will talk it over with Sowerby and -the bishop. It will be a thousand pities, Mr. Robarts, if you will allow -me to say so, that you should neglect such an opportunity of knowing his -grace.”</p> - -<p class="pt">When Mark went to bed, his mind was still set against going to the -duke’s; but, nevertheless, he did feel that it was a pity that he should not -do so. After all, was it necessary that he should obey Lady Lufton in all -things?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="The_Chinese_and_the_Outer_Barbarians">The Chinese and the “Outer Barbarians.”</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>China, and questions of Chinese policy—which only two years ago were -the battle-field of fierce political contention, the subject of debates which -menaced a Ministry with downfall, dissolved a Parliament, violently -agitated the whole community at home, and engaged the controversies of -the whole civilized world—seemed again to have been delivered over to -that neglect and oblivion with which remote countries and their concerns -are ordinarily regarded; but after the lull and the slumber, come again the -rousing and the excitement, and China occupies anew the columns of -the periodical press, and awakens fresh interest in the public mind.</p> - -<p class="pt">The startling events which have taken place on the <i>Tien-tsin</i> river -in China—popularly, but erroneously, known by the name of the Pei-Ho<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—have -re-kindled such an amount of attention and inquiry, that we -feel warranted in devoting some of our earliest pages to the consideration -of a topic involving our relations with a people constituting more than one-third -of the whole human family, and commercial interests even now of -vast extent, and likely to become in their future development more important -than those which connect us with any other nation or region of the -world. A brief recapitulation of the events preceding this last manifestation -of Chinese duplicity will enable the reader to understand the character -and objects of the Chinese government in their dealings with other nations.</p> - -<p class="pt">A series of successful military and naval operations led to the treaties -with China of 1842. The arts and appliances of modern warfare—the -civilization of a powerful western nation—were directed against armies -and defenses which represented the unimproved strategy of the middle -ages,<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and against regions pacific in their social organization, yet disordered, -and even dislocated by internecine dissensions, which the enfeebled -imperial authority was wholly incompetent to subdue or to control. The -reigning dynasty was little able to resist a shock so overwhelming to its -stolid pride, and so unexpected to its ignorant shortsightedness. Its hold -upon the people being rather that of traditional prestige than of physical -domination, the humiliation felt was all the more intolerable because -inflicted by those “barbarians,” who, according to Chinese estimate, -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[Pg 27]</span>are beyond “heaven’s canopy.” It is currently believed in China -that our earlier intercourse with the “central land” had only been -allowed by the gracious and pitying condescension of the “son of -heaven” to supplications that China might be permitted, from her -abounding superfluities, to provide for the urgent necessities of the -“outer races,” which could not otherwise be supplied. “How,” said -the benevolent councillors of the Great Bright Dynasty, “how, without -the rhubarb of the Celestial dominions, can the diseases of the red-haired -races be cured? how can their existence be supported without -our fragrant tea? how can their persons be adorned, unless your sacred -Majesty will allow their traders to purchase and to convey to them our -beautiful silk? Think how far they come—how patiently they wait—how -humbly they supplicate for a single ray from the lustrous presence. -Let not their hearts be made disconsolate by being sent empty away.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Even after the severe lessons which the Chinese received in the war, -and the sad exhibitions of their utter inability to offer any effectual resistance -to our forces, the reports made by Keying, the negotiator of our first -treaty, as to the proper manner of dealing with “barbarians,” are equally -amusing and characteristic. These reports were honoured with the autograph -approval of the emperor Taou-Kwang, written with “the vermilion -pencil,”<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and were found at Canton among the papers of Commissioner Yeh, -to whom they had been sent for his guidance and instruction. In the end -they proved fatal to the venerable diplomatist; for he having been sent down -from the capital to Tien-tsin in order to meet the foreign ambassadors, -and there to give practical evidence that he knew how to “manage and -pacify” the Western barbarians, the documents which proved his own -earlier treacheries were produced; he was put to open shame, and the -poor old man, though a member of the Imperial family, was condemned to be -publicly executed: a sentence which the emperor, in consideration for his -high rank and extreme age, commuted into a permission, or rather a mandate, -that he should commit suicide. Keying gratefully accepted this last favour -from his sovereign, and so terminated his long and most memorable career.</p> - -<p class="pt">It is withal not the less true that these reports represent the concentrated -wisdom of the sages of China, and are fair and reasonable commentaries -upon the teachings of the ancient books in reference to the proper -mode of subduing or taming the “outside nations;” and as they throw -much light upon the course of the mandarins, and give us the key by -which their policy may be generally interpreted, some account of them -will be neither superfluous nor uninstructive.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[Pg 28]</span></p> -<p class="pt">After stating that the English “barbarians” had been “pacified” in 1842, -and the American and French “barbarians” in 1844, Keying goes on to -report that it had been necessary to “shift ground,” and change the -measures by which they were to be “tethered.” “Of course,” he says, -they must be dealt with “justly,” and their “feelings consulted;” but -they cannot be restrained without “stratagems”—and thus he explains his -“stratagems.” Sometimes they must be “ordered” (to obey), and “no -reason given;” sometimes there must be “demonstrations” to disarm -their “restlessness” and “suspicions;” sometimes they must be placed on -a footing of “equality,” to make them “pleased” and “grateful;” their -“falsehoods must be blinked,” and their “facts” not too closely examined. -Being “born beyond” (heaven’s canopy), the barbarians “cannot perfectly -understand the administration of the Celestial dynasty,” nor the promulgation -of the “silken sounds” (imperial decrees) by the “Great Council.” -Keying excuses himself for having, in order “to gain their good-will,” -eaten and drunk with “the barbarians in their residences and ships;” -but he was most embarrassed by the consideration shown by the barbarians -towards “their women,”<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> whom they constantly introduced; but he did -not deem it becoming “to break out in rebuke,” which would “not clear -their barbarian dulness.” He urges, however, the increasing necessity of -“keeping them off, and shutting them out.” He takes great credit for -refusing the “barbarians’ gifts,” the receipt of which might, he says, have -exposed him to the penalties of the law. He did accept some trifles; but, -giving effect to the Confucian maxim of “receiving little and returning -much,” he gave the barbarians in return “snuff-bottles, purses,” and a -“copy of his insignificant portrait.”</p> - -<p class="pt">He says the “barbarians” have “filched Chinese titles for their rulers:” -thus “assuming the airs of great authority,” which he acknowledges to be -“no concern of ours;” but they will not accept any designation denoting dependency, -nor adopt the lunar calendar, nor acknowledge patents of royalty -from the “son of heaven.” They are so “uncivilized,” so “blindly ignorant” -of propriety, that to require them to recognize becoming “inferiority” and -“superiority,” would “lead to fierce altercation;” and after all, he recommends -disregarding these “minor details,” in order to carry out “an important -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[Pg 29]</span>policy.” He presents to the “sacred intelligence” this hasty outline -of the “rough settlement of the barbarian business.”<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> On the general character -of the official papers seized in Yeh’s yamun, Mr. Wade reports:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="pt">“The foreigner is represented as inferior in civilization, unreasonable, crafty, violent, -and in consequence dangerous. The instructions of the court are accordingly to -lecture him fraternally or magisterially, and by this means it is hoped to keep in hand -his perpetual tendency to encroach and intrude. A stern tone is to be adopted on -occasion, but always with due regard to the avoidance of an open rupture.”</p></div> - -<p class="pt">There were grave omissions in Sir Henry Pottinger’s treaty of 1842. It -left the shipping and commercial relations of the British colony of Hong Kong -in a very unsatisfactory state, encumbering them with regulations to which -it was found impossible to give effect; and the trade emancipated itself by its -own irresistible energies to the common advantage of China and Great Britain. -The treaty contained no clause declaring the British text to be the true -reading, and the consequence was, various and embarrassing interpretations -of the intentions of the negotiators; the Chinese naturally enough contending -for the accuracy of their version, while, quite as naturally, our -merchants would abide only by the English reading.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> There is no condition -providing for the revision of the treaty, and it is only under “the most -favoured nation” clause, which concedes to us everything conceded to other -powers, that we have a claim to a revision; but we cannot demand such -revision, unless and until it is granted to the French or the Americans.</p> - -<p class="pt">But the most fatal mistake of all was that which fixed on Canton as the -seat of our diplomatic relations with China. It removed our influence -from the capital to the remotest part of the empire—to a province always -looked upon with apprehension and distrust by the supreme authorities at -Peking, and among a population remarkable alike for their unruly disposition -and their intense and openly proclaimed hatred to foreigners. It -had been Keying’s calculation (and his assurances were most welcome to -the court) that the emperor would thus get rid of all annoyance from Western -“barbarians,” who would be kept in order by the indomitable spirit of the -Cantonese. No provision was made for personal access to the high commissioner -charged with the conduct of “barbarian affairs,” still less for -communication, even by correspondence, with the capital. This was the -first great triumph of Chinese policy, and has been fertile in producing -fruits of mischief and misery.</p> - -<p class="pt">Sir Henry Pottinger never visited Canton; he never examined the -ground on which he placed the future representatives of Great Britain; -he listened to the declarations of Keying, that the difficulties in the way of -a becoming reception there were then insuperable; that they would be removed -by time, which might render the turbulent Cantonese population more -reasonable; he relied on the assurance that everything would be done to -prepare the way for a happier state of things. No doubt there were difficulties; -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[Pg 30]</span>but they were not invincible: they ought, then and there, to have been -surmounted. Pottinger little knew with what a faithless element he had -to deal, and little dreamed that delay would be taken advantage of, not to -lessen, but increase the resistance; that it would be employed not to facilitate, -but to thwart our object—not to soothe, but to exasperate the people. -Pottinger deemed his treaty a bridge to aid—Keying meant it to be a barrier -to resist—our entrance into China. But Sir Henry, before his death, acknowledged -his error, and deeply lamented that his confidence had been misplaced. -Abundant evidence has since been furnished that the treaty was -signed, not with the purpose of honestly giving effect to its conditions, but -to get rid of the “barbarian” pressure, and to bide the time, when the treaty -obligations could be got rid of altogether.</p> - -<p class="pt">Proofs were not wanting of this dishonest purpose, and, in consequence, -after some hesitation, it was deemed necessary by the British Government -to remind the Chinese that their obligation to admit her Majesty’s -subjects into Canton had not been fulfilled; and they were advised -that the Island of Chusan, which we held as a guarantee, would -not be surrendered until security was given for the compliance with -the treaty stipulation. A short delay was asked by the Chinese, -and the assurance, under the authority of the “vermilion pencil,” -was renewed, that arrangements would be made for our having access to -the city. Chusan was in consequence given up to the Chinese authorities; -but no steps were taken to prepare the “public mind” to receive us as -friends and allies within the walls of Canton. On the contrary, incendiary -placards, breathing the utmost enmity to foreigners, continued to be promulgated -and pasted on the walls. In 1847, Sir John Davis, naturally -impatient at Keying’s procrastination and subterfuges, determined to capture -the Bogue forts, to move with military forces upon Canton, and to threaten -the city into compliance with obligations so long trifled with and disregarded. -Keying asked for time, and entered into a formal written -engagement that the city should be opened in April, 1849. When the -time was at hand, Sir George Bonham, who had succeeded to the governorship -of Hong Kong, sought an interview with Seu, who had replaced Keying -as imperial commissioner. Seu did not hesitate to say that the ministers -had been engaged in a common purpose of deception—that the Chinese -and British were both aware the gates were not to be opened—that each -had avoided the responsibility of bringing the matter to issue, and had left -it to their successors. Seu said he would refer the question to the emperor. -The emperor’s reply was the stereotyped instruction to all mandarins, who -have any relations with foreigners: “Keep the barbarians at a distance if -you can—but above all things keep the peace.” Now, though we had a large -fleet at Hong Kong, the imperial commissioner had undoubtedly obtained information, -from some quarter or other, that the fleet would not be employed -hostilely, and that he might “resist the barbarian” without compromising -the public tranquillity. So he negatived the demands of the British.</p> - -<p class="pt">That our forbearance was a grievous mistake there can be little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[Pg 31]</span> -hesitation in affirming. But the importance of the concession then -made was little understood, except by the Chinese, and to it may be -attributed the embarrassments which have since entangled our negotiations -with China. As the British Government determined to leave the -Canton question in a state of abeyance, Sir George Bonham prohibited the -Queen’s subjects from attempting to enter the city—a prohibition which -was taken immediate advantage of by the mandarins, who proclaimed that -our right to enter the city had been finally and for ever withdrawn. By -the orders of the emperor, who wrote to the high commissioner that he -had read “with tears of joy” the report, which showed with what -sagacity and courage he had, without the employment of force, thwarted -“the seditious demands of the barbarians,” six triumphal arches were -erected at the various entrances of the city of Canton, to celebrate the -wisdom and valour of the authorities; and the names of all the distinguished -Cantonese who had contributed to so glorious a consummation were ordered -to be inscribed upon the monuments for immortal commemoration, while -dignities and honours were showered down upon the principal actors. A -grand religious ceremonial, in which all the high authorities took part, -was also ordered to be celebrated in the Temple of Potoo, which is dedicated -to a foreign deified idol, who is supposed to control the affairs of “Western -barbarians.” These triumphal arches—magnificently built of granite—were -blown up by the Allies after the capture of the city.</p> - -<p class="pt">It had indeed been long evident that it was the fixed purpose of the -Chinese authorities to escape from treaty obligations as soon as they fancied -that they were menaced by nothing more than a remote and uncertain -danger; the bow returned to its original bent as the tightness of the string -was relaxed. It was only while the pressure of our presence was felt that -any disposition was shown to respect imperial engagements. The consuls -of the United States and of France had at first been received becomingly -in Canton, by the viceroy; but, in 1849, on the arrival of Consul Bowring, -very subordinate mandarins were appointed to visit him: the imperial -commissioner altogether refused any interview at any place. No official -reception was therefore given by the high mandarins to the British consular -authorities, who were utterly excluded from personal intercourse with them. -The stipulation of the treaty that the mandarins should, in conjunction with -the foreign authorities, assist in the arrangement of differences between -Chinese and British subjects, was absolutely a dead letter; and the obligation -on the part of the mandarins to aid officially in the recovery of -debts due to foreigners was utterly disregarded, when the Chinese debtor -was in a condition to bribe the native functionaries.</p> - -<p class="pt">The alienation and repulsion which had become the system and the -rule of the Chinese authorities, had been productive of consequences most -detrimental to their amicable relations with foreigners. Personal intercourse -affords the greatest facilities for the arrangement of difficulties; and, -even had the correspondence with the mandarins been of the most frank -and friendly character, the settlement of all questions would have been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[Pg 32]</span> -greatly aided by frequent interviews. But these were always avoided, and -often on pleas the most untenable: sometimes it was said that the weight -of administrative business prevented the granting an audience—sometimes -that the viceroy was preparing to attack the rebels, and might be visiting -the interior—sometimes that an auspicious day must be waited for. Replies -were sometimes long delayed; sometimes never given; and it was seldom -that an answer was otherwise than evasive or unsatisfactory. There were -many occasions on which the cabinets of the treaty powers directed their -representatives to make communications, through the imperial commissioner, -to the court of Peking; but only one instance occurred of any attention -being paid to such communications: it was that connected with our entrance -into the city, and the imperial reply was such as to encourage the viceroy -in his perverse and perilous policy. The impossibility of obtaining personal -access to the imperial commissioner was, in fact, not only a great grievance -in itself, but it was the cause of the non-redress of every other grievance. It -is not in the field of diplomatic controversy that European functionaries can -have any fair chance with those who, preserving all the forms of courtesy, -will deny facts, or invent falsehoods to suit the purposes of the moment.</p> - -<p class="pt">So great had been the disposition of the Chinese authorities to bring -back matters to their position anterior to the treaties of 1812, that in Foochow -Foo, the only other provincial city to which we had a right of access, -and in which a viceregal government exists, the high authorities had -refused all personal intercourse with the representatives of Great Britain, -though the consular offices are established within the city walls. The -superior officers of the great provincial cities have the right of direct -intercourse with the court of Peking and with the emperor himself,—a -right not possessed by any of the functionaries in the ports of Shanghae, -Ningpo, or Amoy, but confined to those of Canton and Foochow, the one -being the capital of the province of Kwantung, the other of the province -of Fookien. The importance of our being in direct communication with -those through whom alone we can communicate with the ministers, or -the sovereign, at Peking, can hardly be over-estimated. Sir John Bowring -visited Foochow, in 1853, in a ship of war, and after much resistance from -the viceroy, was finally and officially received by him with every mark of -distinction; and the result of that friendly reception was the amicable and -satisfactory arrangement of every question—and there were many—then -pending between British and Chinese subjects in the Fookien province. -It is true that on more than one occasion the viceroy of Canton offered to -receive the British plenipotentiary, not in his official yamun, but in a -“packhouse” belonging to Howqua; and there were those who held that -Sir John Bowring should have been satisfied with such condescension on -the part of the Chinese commissioner. It should be remembered that -in all the treaties with foreigners, the emperor has engaged that the -same attentions shall be shown to foreign functionaries which can be claimed -and are invariably shown to mandarins of similar rank. It was always a -part of the policy of the Chinese to maintain in the eyes of the people that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[Pg 33]</span> -superiority of position which national pride and vanity had for ages rendered -habitual; and the recognition of the right of foreign authorities to be elevated -to the same height was one of the most important of the treaty concessions. -But it was a treaty concession, and ought never to be allowed to become a -dead letter. In our relations with Oriental governments, the only security -for the observance of treaty engagements, is to be found in their rigid, but -quiet and determined enforcement. To be considerate as to what you exact, -is the dictate alike of prudence and of policy; but the attempt to disregard -or violate any formal treaty stipulation should be resisted at its very earliest -demonstration.</p> - -<p class="pt">Whatever grounds of complaint the British authorities might have -against the Chinese, nothing was left undone to conciliate the good opinion -of the mandarins. In 1854 an application was made by Yeh to this -effect: he feared a rupture of the public peace, and feeling himself too -weak to protect Canton from the invasion of the rebels, he asked -for the assistance of the naval forces of the treaty powers. Sir John -Bowring accompanied the admiral and the British fleet to the neighbourhood -of that city, and in co-operation with the Americans, took such -effectual measures for its security, that the intended attack was abandoned, -and general tranquillity remained uninterrupted. This intervention was -gratefully acknowledged by the people of Canton; but there is every reason -to believe that the commissioner represented our amicable intervention -as an act of vassalage, and the assistance rendered as having been in -obedience to orders issued by imperial authority. Notwithstanding this and -many other evidences of friendly sentiment and useful aid on our part, Yeh -did not hesitate to represent to the court that the rebels and Western -“barbarians” were acting in union, and he expressed his conviction that -his policy would lead to the extermination of both.</p> - -<p class="pt">No one, in fact, who had attended to the progress of public events, -could be unaware of the insecure position of our relations with the -Chinese. Lord Palmerston said, in 1854:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="pt">“So far from our proceedings in China having had a tendency to disturb the peaceful -relations between the British government and the Chinese empire, and to lead to -encroachments upon their territory, we had, on the contrary, acted with the greatest -forbearance. Ever since the conclusion of the treaty of Nanking the conduct of the -Chinese authorities had been such as would have justified a rupture with that government. -They had violated the engagements into which they had entered; and if any -desire existed on the part of the British government to proceed against them, abundant -cause had existed, almost since the termination of the last war. They had refused, on -divers pretences, to admit us to parts of Canton to which we ought to have access, -avoided their engagements with respect to the Hongs, and nullified their stipulations in -regard to the Tariff. In point of fact, there was scarcely a single engagement they had -not broken.”<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p></div> - -<p class="pt">Wearied with so many evasions, difficulties and delays, the ministers -of the treaty powers, in 1854, determined to approach the capital, in order -to represent to the court the unsatisfactory state of foreign relations with -the imperial commissioner at Canton, and the necessity of redressing the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[Pg 34]</span> -many grievances of which they had to complain, and thus putting an end -to a policy essentially unfriendly, which could not but lead to a fatal -crisis, and which imperilled alike the interests of China and of all the -nations who came into contact with her. It was hoped that the strong -and united representations of the three ministers might alarm the emperor, -or at all events obtain his serious attention to the dangers with which -he was menaced. The attempt failed.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> It could not but fail, through the -incredible misrepresentations made to the Chinese court by the commissioners -who were sent down by the emperor to meet the foreign envoys. -As regards the outward forms of courtesy, the latter had perhaps no special -ground of complaint. Tents were erected for their reception in the neighbourhood -of the Takoo forts; and they were invited to a repast, in which, it -may be worth notice, there was a display of ancient European steel knives -and forks, with handsome porcelain handles, apparently of the age of -Louis XIV. They were met on terms of equality, and the posts of honour -were graciously conceded to them. But the urbane manners of the mandarins -did not mislead the foreign ministers, who left them with the declaration that -they were insuring for their country days of future sorrow. On the subject -of their reports to the court of Peking, Mr. Reed says: “They illustrate -the habitual faithlessness of Chinese officials.... They were certainly -the most painful revelations of the mendacity and treacherous habits of the -high officials of this empire ever given to the world. They cannot be read -without contemptuous resentment.”<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></p> - -<p class="pt">There was only one possible termination to a state of things so obviously -unsatisfactory, menacing, and untenable. Everything that could be said or -done, in the shape of friendly counsel, had been exhausted. The American -commissioner, Mr. M‘Lane, reports to his government,<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> that on leaving -China, he addressed to Keih,<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> the governor of Kiangsoo, the following -memorable warning:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="pt">“Now, as my parting words, I say to you, if something is not done, our relations will -become bad, our amity be disturbed. I believe that but for the officers of both governments -there now might have been a state of things that might have led to a war; but -we have exerted ourselves to prevent it.” [Governor Keih—“Yes.”] “I have done -well, and on the eve of my departure am most <i>disinterested</i> in what I say. I do not -think it is in the power of either officers of either government long to preserve the -peace. If the emperor does not listen, and appoint a commissioner to adjust the foreign -relations, so sure as there is a God in the heavens, amity cannot be preserved. I say it -in sincerity, as my parting words.”</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[Pg 35]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">The personal character of Yeh tended greatly to complicate every -international question. He represented the pride, presumption, and ignorance -of a high mandarin, without the restraints which fear of imperial -displeasure generally places upon Chinese functionaries. He was the -instrument, and for some time the successful instrument, for carrying out -the imperial policy as regarded foreign nations. He had a great reputation -for learning, had won the most eminent literary grades, was a distinguished -member of the highest college (the Hanlin), and the guardian of the heir -apparent—indeed, on one occasion he called himself the fourth personage -of the empire. Moreover, his despatches were much admired for their -perspicuity and purity of language. He was strangely unacquainted with -the geography, institutions, and policy of remote nations, and even made his -ignorance a ground for self-congratulation. When questions of commercial -interest were brought before him, he treated them as altogether below his -notice, and on one occasion abruptly terminated a conversation by saying, -“You speak to me as if I were a merchant, and not a mandarin.” He devoted -himself to the study of necromancy, and relied on his “fortunate star;” -believing that the city of Canton was impregnable, he made no serious -arrangements for its defence.</p> - -<p class="pt">What Ke-ying preached, Yeh-ming practised; but Ke was a man of a -gentle, Yeh of a ferocious nature; and the cautious cunning which often -marked the course of the one was wholly wanting to the other. Yeh, -armed as he was with powers of life and death, exercised them with a -recklessness of which there is no equal example in history. He turned the -execution-ground at Canton into a huge lake of blood; hundreds of rebels -were beheaded daily. When he was asked whether he had really caused -seventy thousand men to be decapitated, he boastingly replied that the -number exceeded a hundred thousand; and to an inquiry whether he had -inflicted upon women the horrible punishment called the cutting into -ten thousand pieces, he answered, “Ay! they were worse than the -men.”<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> - -<p class="pt">It was the affair of the <i>Arrow</i> which brought about the inevitable -crisis. The question of Sir John Bowring’s action on that occasion was -entangled with the party politics of the day, and little more need now be -said than that the verdict of the country reversed the condemnatory -decision of the House of Commons. Certain it is that the very build of -a <i><span lang="pt" xml:lang="pt">lorcha</span></i>, so altogether unlike any Chinese junk in its external appearance, -ought to have led the local authorities in Canton to be very cautious in -their interference with her crew; and that the fact of her papers being in -the hands of the British consul, and not of the Chinese custom-house, was -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">primâ facie</span></i> evidence of her nationality. Since the brutal character of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[Pg 36]</span> -ex-Commissioner Yeh has been better understood, even those most -forward to censure Sir John Bowring, for refusing to deliver over to -that savage and sanguinary personage men who at all events believed -themselves to be entitled to the protection of British authority,<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> cannot -but have felt that they ought to have been more indulgent to his -hesitation. That he carried with him the sympathy of the representatives -of the treaty powers,—that Yeh’s policy was condemned by his -colleagues and by the people in general,<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>—and that Yeh himself was -finally degraded and disgraced by his own sovereign for his proceedings, -are matters of historical record. Yeh, there is little doubt, would have -been publicly executed, had he returned to China, notwithstanding the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[Pg 37]</span> -efforts of his father, who betook himself to Peking with a very large sum -of money, hoping to be able—but failing—to propitiate the court.<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p class="pt">The war was carried on by the Chinese according to their usual mode -of dealing with foreign nations.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> They had no chance of success in open -combat, so they had recourse to the ordinary stratagems adopted by -uncivilized races. An “anti-barbarian committee” was formed among -them, under the auspices of the mandarins. They offered premiums from -100 up to 100,000 ounces of silver for assassinations of “the barbarians,” -according to the gradation of rank, and similar graduated rewards for the -capture of vessels, for acts of incendiarism, for denouncing those who sent -provisions to Hong Kong. Intercourse was prohibited under pain of death; -and provision was promised to be made for the families of those who might -perish in any desperate enterprise against the “foreign devils.” But so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[Pg 38]</span> -well was the government of Hong Kong served, that only one of many -attempts to injure the colony had any success. In this, however, 360 -persons of all nations were poisoned; but, happily, from the excess of -arsenic employed, which led to an immediate perception of the danger, -very few lost their lives. No less than 25,000 of the inhabitants fled to the -mainland in consequence of the menaces of the mandarins; yet, though -there were not 400 effective men in the garrison, such was the efficiency of -the naval department, so active the police, and so well-disposed the mass of -the Chinese population, that scarcely any damage was inflicted on the colony.</p> - -<p class="pt">Canton was taken on the 29th of December. The resistance was -ridiculous.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> The walls were scaled by a handful of men, and Yeh, who -had concealed himself, was captured. Why British authority, which -would have been welcomed by the respectable part of the population, -was not established under military law, and the whole administration of -the public revenues taken into our hands, it is very difficult to explain. -But at the meeting in which the English and French ambassadors informed -the high Chinese authorities that the city had been captured and was held -by the allied forces, both the governor of Kwang-tung and the Tartar -general were allowed to be seated on the same elevation with the foreign -ambassadors, and above the positions occupied by the naval and military -commanders-in-chief who were left in charge of the city. Subordinate to -these, an hermaphrodite government was created, called “the Allied Commissioners,” -who were to be consulted on all occasions by the mandarins -charged to carry on the administration of public affairs.</p> - -<p class="pt">A grand opportunity was thus lost of exhibiting to the Cantonese the -benefits of a just and honest, however severe, administration: they could -not but have been struck with the difference between the humane and -equitable laws of foreigners, as contrasted with the corrupt and cruel -dealings of the mandarins. The <i>Elgin Papers</i> throw little light upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[Pg 39]</span> -atrocities which were perpetrated by the Chinese, long after our possession of -the city. The prisons continued to be scenes of horrible tortures. It was -thought necessary to destroy whole streets, in order to convey terror into districts -where assassinations of the subjects of allied powers had taken place: -all the eastern suburb of the city was razed to the ground, and not a respectable -inhabitant was left amidst the desolation. There can be no doubt -that Governor Pehkwei considered himself invested with supreme authority -over Chinese subjects. He complains bitterly, in a despatch to Lord -Elgin, of 31st January, 1858, of Consul Parkes’ interference—of his “overbearing” -and unreasonably oppressive “conduct in disposing of Chinamen -confined in the gaols of Canton. I ask, whether Chinese officers would be -tolerated in their interference with British subjects confined in British -gaols?” Lord Elgin does not, in his reply, assert British jurisdiction over -the prisons in Canton; but says, Pehkwei will be required to release all -prisoners entitled to the benefits of the amnesty; and in another despatch -(p. 178), distinctly throws upon Pehkwei the responsibility of preserving -the public peace. This anomalous state of matters awakened the attention -of our Government at home: a despatch of Lord Malmesbury (14th June, -1858), says: “It will be a disgrace to the allied powers if they do not -prevent such enormities as are practised in the prisons of Canton.” ... -The “British name must be relieved from the disgrace and guilt of -having connived at a state of things so monstrous and revolting.” -As to the mixed authority of native mandarins and allied commissioners, -Lord Malmesbury says: “It is wholly inefficient for all objects of -administration and policy, and should be replaced by a military government -acting under the rules of martial law.” He recommended that the allies -should take possession of the custom-house revenues, and hold the balance -after the payment of the local expenses. It is much to be regretted that these -measures were not adopted. Undoubtedly, Lord Elgin exercised a sound -discretion in not proceeding to Peking until “a lesson” had been given to -Yeh’s obstinacy. Had he gone to the North it would have been deemed a -confession that he had been foiled in the South, and compelled to appeal to -the emperor, in order to relieve himself from the difficulties in which Yeh -had placed him; for Yeh—who had chosen to represent the English -“barbarians” as making common cause with the rebels, and in fact, being -themselves in a state of rebellion against imperial authority—gave the -court the assurance that, as he had been so successful in breaking up the -native insurrection, so he would not fail “to drive the foreign ‘barbarians’ -into the sea.” In short, there could be little doubt, that had his calculations -proved correct, a hostile policy would have pursued us in all the other parts -of China, and our immense interests there have been placed in jeopardy.</p> - -<p class="pt">For some time the court ventured to dream that by Yeh’s indomitable -bravery China might be wholly rid of the presence of the intrusive -strangers.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> It is known that the emperor was much displeased with a -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[Pg 40]</span>mandarin, who, having lived in Canton, and being acquainted with the -power of the English, ventured to express doubts as to the trustworthiness -of Yeh’s representations that he could bridle and extirpate the English -barbarians;<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> and nothing less than the taking the Takoo forts by the allied -forces, and an advance upon the capital (even after Yeh’s capture and -humiliation) was likely to bring the court of Peking to a sense of its -own weakness, and the necessity of listening to our representations and -remonstrances.</p> - -<p class="pt">Every effort had been made to obstruct the progress of the allied -ambassadors towards Peking; but they wisely determined not to delay their -voyage to the Gulf of Pecheli, and, on the 24th April, they announced -to the Chinese prime minister their arrival, at the mouth of the Tien-tsin -river. The usual evasions were brought into play; and it was soon discovered -that the commissioners sent down had no sufficient powers. On -the 18th May, therefore, after consultation with the admirals, it was determined -to “take the forts,” and to “proceed pacifically up the river;” on -the 19th, notice was given to the Chinese, and on the 20th, the forts were -in the hands of the Allies. On the 29th, the ambassadors reached Tien-tsin. -On the same day they were advised that “the chief secretary of state,” -and the president of one of the imperial boards, were ordered to proceed -without delay “to investigate and despatch business.” After many discussions -the Treaty was signed on the 26th June.</p> - -<p class="pt">The progress and the result of these negotiations only demonstrate that -where our policy has failed, and where it will always fail in China, is in -placing confidence in the Chinese. Our distrust must be the groundwork: -it is the only sound foundation of our security. When the four -ambassadors were at Tien-tsin, and had extorted from the fears of the -Chinese treaties more or less humiliating to Chinese pride, according to the -amount of pressure employed, it should have been foreseen that on the -removal of that pressure the Chinese mind would resume its natural -obstinacy. A treaty with China will always be waste paper, unless some -security is obtained for giving it due effect. It is, therefore, greatly to be -regretted that the ambassadors should have left the most difficult of questions, -one most wounding to Chinese pride—the reception of foreign -ministers at Peking, and the initiation of their constant residence at court—to -be settled by their successors, who had neither the same high -diplomatic position, nor the same large naval and military forces at their -disposal. It may, indeed, be a question whether it was desirable to force -upon the Chinese the recognition of our right to have an ambassador -permanently fixed at the capital; but if we thought fit to insist on such<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[Pg 41]</span> -recognition, there should certainly have been no vacillation—no disposition -shown to surrender in any shape or on any terms the right which had been -conceded. We could not plead want of experience, for we had abundant -evidence of the determination of the Chinese to repudiate and deny every -concession, the enjoyment of which was either rediscussed or deferred. We -should have avoided, above all things, the transfer of the Canton question to -Peking. Our right to enter Canton was incontestable. Shufflings and -subterfuges on the part of the Chinese, hesitation and an erroneous estimate -of the importance of the question on the part of the British Government -and the British functionaries in China, led to one delay after another, -and ended by an absolute denial of our treaty right, and an arming of -the Chinese population to enforce that denial, accompanied at the same -time by a Chinese proclamation mendaciously averring that we had withdrawn -our claims. A similar course has been pursued at Peking. The -Chinese, who have no notion—what Oriental has?—of privileges possessed -and not exercised, saw in the willingness to give way to their representations, -not, as we might have supposed, a consideration for their repugnancy, -and a magnanimity in refraining from the enjoyment of a privilege -distasteful to them, but an infirmity of purpose—a confession that we had -asked for something we did not want, and which they felt to be a -degradation needlessly and gratuitously imposed upon them. There is, in -fact, neither safety nor dignity in any course but the stern, steady persistence -in the assertion and enforcement of whatever conditions are the subject of -imperial engagements.</p> - -<p class="pt">Lord Elgin returned to England, and Mr. Bruce was appointed his -successor. It was at first announced that he had been furnished with -ambassadorial powers, but as such powers would have entitled him to -demand a personal reception by the emperor, it was, on reconsideration, very -judiciously thought better to avoid a question which might lead to great -embarrassments, and he was accredited as Minister Plenipotentiary to the -Peking court. To our judgment it appears the instructions of Lord -Malmesbury were too peremptory as to the course Mr. Bruce was to -pursue; and if that course was to be insisted on, most inadequate means -were provided.<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> It is but another example of those in the distance -imagining they see more clearly than those who are near, and assuming -an acquaintance with local circumstances—subject every hour to change—which, -without the attributes of omnipresence and omniscience, it is impossible -they should possess. Whatever may have been the views of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[Pg 42]</span> -Cabinet at home, it is obvious that the forces which accompanied Mr. Bruce -were as superfluous for peace as they were insufficient for war, and that he -was placed in the embarrassing dilemma either of disobeying his orders, or -of incurring great risk in the attempt to execute them. That the Admiral -singularly overrated his own force, and under-estimated that of the Chinese, -admits now of no controversy. But an indulgent judgment should be -awarded to one so personally brave and self-sacrificing, and who was entitled -to confide in the indomitable bravery of those he commanded; whose -experience, too, of the general character of Chinese warfare was not -likely to teach them prudence or caution.</p> - -<p class="pt">The first and the most natural inquiry is, what is likely to be the -result of these disastrous events? If negotiations are wisely conducted, -the probability is that the emperor will throw the blame on the local -authorities, attribute to the misrepresentations which have been made any -approval he may have given to those who attacked the Allies, and repudiate -any intended complicity in the mismanagement of foreign relations. For -it has hitherto been the invariable policy of the Chinese government to -localize every quarrel, and to avoid any general war. There is no scruple -about sacrificing any mandarin whose proceedings, though lauded and -recompensed at first, have in the sequel proved injudicious or injurious.</p> - -<p class="pt">We cannot look forward, however, without apprehension—apprehension -not from the possible defeat of our arms—they will be too strong, too efficient -for defeat by any Chinese forces—but from their successful advance and -overthrow of all resistance. Nothing can arrest their course to Peking, -nor prevent the capture of that vast capital; but its possession may prove -our great embarrassment. If the emperor, accompanied by his court, should -retreat into Manchuria—if Peking be deserted, as Canton was, by all that is -respectable and opulent—the Allies may find themselves amidst vacant -streets, abandoned houses, a wandering, a starving population, too poor to -migrate with their betters. Winter will come—the cruel, bitter winter of -northern China; the rivers will be frozen, communications cut off; and -with no war-ship in the Gulf of Pecheli, supplies must be inaccessible. -Peking may even prove another Moscow to its conquerors.</p> - -<p class="pt">The condition of the French and Spanish expedition in Cochin China -is full of present instruction. They are acting against a miserable and -despised enemy. They have been for more than a year in possession of -Turon, the principal harbour of the country; but they have not ventured -to attack the adjacent capital. Disease has thinned their ranks; victories -have brought no results, but ever new disappointment: every calculation -of success having been thwarted by a patient but stubborn “no surrender.” -It is a resistance that cannot be reached by strength of arms, nor dealt with -by the cunning of diplomacy. May it serve as a warning in that wider -field upon which we are entering in China!</p> - -<p class="pt">How is the social edifice to be constructed out of crumbling ruins? -To overthrow the existing dynasty of China may be easy enough; -indeed, the difficulty, as with that of Turkey, is its maintenance and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[Pg 43]</span> -preservation: its very feebleness cries to us for pity and mercy. It may -yet totter on for generations, if not harshly shaken; but if it—fall—fall -amidst its wrecked institutions—China, inviting as it is to foreign -ambition and the lust of conquest, may become the battle-field of contending -interests. Russia, moving steadily and stealthily forward in -its march of territorial aggression; France, charged with what she fancies -herself specially called upon to represent—the missionary propagand, with -the Catholic world behind her; England, with those vast concerns which -involve about one-ninth of the imperial and Indian revenues, and an -invested capital exceeding forty millions sterling; and the United States, -whose commerce may be deemed about one-third of that of Great Britain, -to say nothing of Holland and Spain, who are not a little concerned, through -their eastern colonies, in the well-being of China;—will then be engaged -in a struggle for power, if not territory, the result of which cannot be -anticipated; indeed we scarcely venture to contemplate such portentous -complications.</p> - -<p class="pt">No thoughtful man will deny the necessity of teaching the Chinese -that treaties must be respected, and perfidy punished. Duty and interest -alike require this at our hands; but this is but one of many duties—one -of many interests; and we would most emphatically say, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Respice finem</span></i>—look -beyond—look to the end. The destruction of hundreds of thousands -of Chinese, the ravaging of their great cities, may fail to accomplish the -object we have in view. They have been but too much accustomed to -such calamities, and their influences soon pass away from a nation so reckless -of life. But it may be possible to exact penalties in a shape which will -be more sensible to them, and more beneficial to us: for example, the -administration of their custom-house revenues in Shanghae and Canton, -and the payment out of these of all the expenses of the war.</p> - -<p class="pt">But is there nothing to hope from the Taiping movement? Nothing. -It has become little better than dacoity: its progress has been everywhere -marked by wreck and ruin; it destroys cities, but builds none; -consumes wealth, and produces none; supersedes one despotism by another -more crushing and grievous; subverts a rude religion by the introduction -of another full of the vilest frauds and the boldest blasphemies. It has -cast off none of the proud, insolent, and ignorant formulas of imperial -rule; but, claiming to be a divine revelation, exacts the same homage -and demands the same tribute from Western nations, to which the government -of Peking pretended in the days of its highest and most widely -recognized authority.</p> - -<p class="pt">We cannot afford to overthrow the government of China. Bad as -it is, anarchy will track its downfall, and the few elements of order -which yet remain will be whelmed in a convulsive desolation.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Peiho, in Chinese, means a north or northern river, but no river in particular. -No Chinaman applies the word to the locality which now bears the name on our charts. -In Bristol, the Mersey would be deemed entitled to the name of the Peiho; in London, -the Humber, the Tyne, or the Tweed.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> The matchlock is still used in China, where even the flint has not been introduced. -The late emperor, Taou-Kwang, had heard of “improvements in musketry,” and specimens -of “percussion locks” were sent to Peking, but they were rejected; and the -military examinations to this hour consist of feats of individual strength, the exercise -of the bow and arrow, the spear and the shield. In the use of artillery there have -been some improvements. The Chinese have purchased cannon for their fortifications -and war-junks, both in Hong Kong and Macao, and of late from the Russians, for their -forts of Takoo.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> The emperor’s words are: “This was the only proper arrangement to be made -(for the settlement of the treaties). We understand the whole question.” In 1854, -when the foreign Ministers visited Tien-tsin, the imperial orders were conveyed to the -mandarins in the following words:—“At your interview, you must snap short their -deceit and arrogance, and foil their malicious sophistry.” Another imperial decree -says:—“The barbarians study nothing but gain. Their hurrying backwards and -forwards only means [more] trade and [lower] tariffs. When a trifle is granted on -this score they naturally acquiesce and hold their tongues.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Nothing is less intelligible to a high-bred mandarin than the desire of foreign -females to be introduced to him. At Hong Kong, when English ladies were brought to -see the ex-commissioner Yeh, he turned away, and refused to look at them, and on -their departure, expressed his annoyance and disgust. He was invited at Calcutta to a -ball given by the Governor of Bengal. Inquiring what was meant, he was told by his -Chinese secretary, that a ball was a sport in which “men turned themselves round, -holding the waists and turning round the wives of other men;” on which, he asked -whether the invitation was meant for an insult? There was an amusing scene at Canton, -when Chinese ladies were for the first time introduced to some of our British fair. The -Chinese kept for some minutes tremblingly in the distance, afraid to approach, when one -was heard to say to another, “They do not look so <i>very</i> barbarous, after all;” and they -moved a little forward to meet their guests; another whisper was heard, “Surely they -have learnt how to behave themselves. Is it not wonderful?” and a third voice replied, -“Yes! but you know they have been for some time in Canton!”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> <i>Elgin Papers</i>, p. 175.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> In the French treaty the discrepancies between the French and Chinese text are -yet more striking. The Chinese text places Chinese subjects claimed by the authorities -under conditions far less favourable than those provided by the French version.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> <i>Debate</i>, July.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> In the <i>Elgin Papers</i> many pages are occupied with the details of the correspondence -between the commissioners who came to the mouth of the Tien-tsin river and -the court of Peking, and which were found in Yeh’s archives at Canton.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> Speech at Philadelphia, quoted in <i>North American Review</i>, No. CLXXXV. p. 503.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> <i>American Papers</i>, p. 417: <i>Despatch</i> dated 27th November, 1857.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Keih was one of the most intelligent and honest of the high mandarins of China. -He was killed in an action with the rebels soon after his last interview with the foreign -ministers. He openly blamed the perversity of Yeh, whom he hoped to succeed in the -office of high commissioner. Had his life been spared, and his counsels prevailed, he -would have initiated a policy of conciliation and amity.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> We give one of Yeh’s characteristic proclamations, issued during the siege of -Canton:— -</p> -<p> -“Yeh, governor-general of the two Kwang provinces, member of the cabinet, and -baron of the empire, hereby proclaims for the general information:— -</p> -<p> -“These are the contumacious English barbarians, who are akin to dogs and hogs, and -like wolves and jackals in disposition, who make no distinction in the human relations, -and are destitute of propriety or manners * * * * * -who act as they list, have the tempers of wild beasts, and go here and there in wild -recklessness, regardless of human rights or order. -</p> -<p> -“These are they who have presumed, like flocks of ravens issuing from out their -coverts, to cast contemptuous looks on celestial awe-inspiring dignity, and seeing that -our troops were unprepared, suddenly have taken possession of our forts, and following -the bent of their lawless wickedness have burned the shops and dwellings of our people. -Gods and men are indignant, heaven and earth can no longer endure them, and well -will it be for your people if you unite in particular, and with vigorous arm exterminate -them altogether. Let soldiers and gentry exhibit their loyalty, and with the braves, -known to be in every place, swear, as they exhibit a force and union like the driving -tempest, that they will revenge the honour of their country. Let full obedience be given -to his majesty’s rescript, and with firm purpose and stout arm sweep them off without -remainder, burning their lairs, and exterminating their whole kith and kin. -</p> -<p> -“Then the memorial of your merit will be seen in the palace, while the state stands -secure in the greatness of its people, as in the golden days of Shun, and the elements -genially combine to produce plenty, through the good rule universal in the land, as was -seen in the halcyon days of Tsin. -</p> -<p> -“The other nations of the West must all reverently obey our heavenly dynasty, -according to their laws and their administrators, for they will be amerced in the same -crimes (as the English) if they venture to copy their conduct. -</p> -<p> -“Those native traitors who are serving these several tribes, by aiding their purposes, -must be strictly watched after and judged, the worst of them by the extermination of -their kindred, the lesser by the destruction of their own families. -</p> -<p> -“Those who are employed as servants to any of the foreigners are allowed twenty -days to return to their own patrimonies, there to pursue their several occupations. If -they linger along in the hope of gain, they will be treated and punished as traitors. -</p> -<p> -“Each one must tremblingly obey these orders without opposition.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> The words of the treaty are: “If it shall be ascertained or suspected that lawless -natives of China, having committed crimes or offences against their own government, -have fled, a communication shall be made to the proper English officer, in order that -the said criminals and offenders may be rigidly searched for, seized, and, on proof or -admission of their guilt, delivered up” to the Chinese authorities.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> A thoroughly well-informed American gentleman, then on the spot, declares that -the Cantonese prayed that some English ball might “make hit the Viceroy; he all -same devil,” they said. “Yeh had no supporters among his own countrymen, except -his immediate followers, natives of other provinces, and having no local interest. He -ruled simply by terror, and all would have been glad to have seen him destroyed.”—<i>A -Foreigner’s Evidence on the China Question</i>, p. 14.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Yeh died in Calcutta. So great was the quantity of gas emitted by his body -after death, that the leaden coffin burst twice. On its arrival at Canton the Chinese -would not allow the body to be brought into the city.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> The following is the protest of the United States Commissioner, addressed to High -Commissioner Yeh:— -</p> -<p class="right"> -“<i>Legation of the U.S., Macao, Jan. 16, 1857.</i><br /> -</p> -<p> -“The undersigned Commissioner and Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States -of America in China is again compelled to address your Excellency, demonstrating and -protesting against the violation of our treaty of amity, the laws of civilized nations, and -the rules of justifiable war. -</p> -<p> -“The United States Consul, who arrived from Hong Kong last evening, has appeared -before the undersigned in person, and represented that a most diabolical deed -has been perpetrated by Chinese subjects, who had administered poison in the bread -supplied to the public in that colony and on board vessels in the harbour, to multitudes -of men, women, and children, without distinction of nation; that he himself had -partaken of the poison, from which he is still suffering, and that other citizens of the -United States are rendered dangerously ill by the poisoned bread. -</p> -<p> -“The undersigned, as in duty bound, solemnly protests against this unjustifiable -mode of warfare. ‘The use of poison as a means of war is prohibited by the -unanimous concurrence of all the public jurists of the present age. The custom of -civilized nations has exempted the persons of the sovereign and his family, the -members of the civil government, women and children, cultivators of the earth, -artisans, labourers, merchants, men of science and letters, and generally all other -public or private individuals engaged in the ordinary civil pursuits of life, from the -effects of military operations, unless actually taken in arms, or guilty of some -misconduct in violation of the usages of war, by which they forfeit this immunity.’ -Now, by the manner in which the poison has been administered in Hong Kong, not -only the innocent women and children, and all artisans, labourers, merchants, and men -of science, belonging to the English nation, had their lives exposed, but the citizens -and subjects of other nations who are on friendly relations with China. Americans, -French, Russians, Portuguese, and Spaniards have all received the deadly poison; and -that some may yet die, remains to be known. -</p> -<p> -“The undersigned, therefore, on behalf of the Government of the United States, on -the part of humanity, and (reverently) in the name of God, protests against this most -barbarous deed; and as on former occasions when protesting against the offering of -pecuniary rewards to perfidy and assassination of foreigners, must hold the imperial -government of China responsible for all the consequences, both to individual and -national interests. -</p> -<div> -<p class="floatl">“His Excellency Yeh.”</p> -<p class="floatr">“<span class="smcap">Peter Parker.</span>”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> One man appeared during the Canton conflict who is entitled to be mentioned -with respect and honour—Wang, the Chinese admiral. He was well acquainted with -the power of the British; and on one occasion had given evidence of great coolness and -courage when accompanying H.M.S. <i>Columbine</i> on an expedition against the pirates. -He did his best to persuade Yeh from engaging in a quarrel which could not but be -disastrous to the Chinese, but he failed, as everybody failed. “You may as well reason -with a stone,” was the language of a deputation that sought the British officials. -Wang received peremptory orders from Yeh to attack and destroy the British fleet in -the Canton river. He answered that it was impossible: that an encounter must be fatal -to the imperial war junks. The orders were renewed; and he said he would do his best—as -he did in the affair at Fashan, when considerable damage was done to our boats, and -many of our men lost their lives. Wang’s junk was captured; and the imperial -warrant, on yellow silk, was found, recording a series of adventurous and valorous -deeds; but Wang was ordered to be decapitated by Yeh, because he had not beaten the -British. He fled, and was concealed for some time in a village on the banks of the river. -He applied to the Governor of Hong Kong, asking to be allowed an asylum there, which -was cordially offered; but severe illness prevented his removal. Yeh afterwards -repented of his precipitation; recalled Wang to the public service; who stipulated that -he should not be employed against Western nations.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> The influence of Yeh at Peking was considerably strengthened by the support -he received from Iliang, who obtained the credit of persuading the United States -Commissioner, Mr. Marshall, not to proceed to the capital. Iliang, in one of his -despatches to the emperor, says: “Whatever the barbarian chief may insinuate against -Yeh-ming-chen, it is he whom they fear.”—<i>Elgin Papers</i>, p. 280.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> When in the former war Commissioner Keshen humbly represented to the emperor -Taou-Kwang, that it was impossible to resist the English, he was ordered to be -executed for his mendacity. His life was saved by powerful friends at court.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> “Her Majesty’s Government are prepared to expect that all the arts at which the -Chinese are such adepts will be put in practice to dissuade you from repairing to the -capital, even for the purpose of exchanging the ratifications of the treaty, but it will be -your duty firmly, but temperately, to resist any propositions to that effect, and <i>to admit -of no excuses</i>. -</p> -<p> -“The Admiral in command of H.M.’s naval forces in China, has been directed to -send up with you to the mouth of the Peiho a sufficient naval force. -</p> -<p> -“<i>You will insist</i> on your being received at Peking, and will refuse to exchange -ratifications at any other place.”—<i>Despatch of Lord Malmesbury, 1st March, 1859.</i></p></div></div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="Lovel_the_Widower">Lovel the Widower.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<p class="motto"><span class="smcap">The Bachelor of Beak Street.</span></p> - - -<div class="hidescreen"> -<img class="center img50h" src="images/i_044.jpg" alt="W" /> -</div> - -<div> -<img class="drop-cap-w img50" src="images/i_044.jpg" alt="W" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap-w">Who shall be the hero of this tale? -Not I who write it. I am but -the Chorus of the Play. I make -remarks on the conduct of the -characters: I narrate their simple -story. There is love and marriage -in it: there is grief and -disappointment: the scene is in -the parlour, and the region beneath -the parlour. No: it may -be the parlour and kitchen, in -this instance, are on the same -level. There is no high life, -unless, to be sure, you call a -baronet’s widow a lady in high -life; and some ladies may be, -while some certainly are not. I -don’t think there’s a villain in -the whole performance. There is -an abominable selfish old woman, -certainly: an old highway robber; an old sponger on other people’s kindness; -an old haunter of Bath and Cheltenham boarding-houses (about which -how can I know anything, never having been in a boarding-house at Bath or -Cheltenham in my life?); an old swindler of tradesmen, tyrant of servants, -bully of the poor—who, to be sure, might do duty for a villain, but she -considers herself as virtuous a woman as ever was born. The heroine is -not faultless (ah! that will be a great relief to some folks, for many -writers’ good women are, you know, so <i>very</i> insipid). The principal -personage you may very likely think to be no better than a muff. But -is many a respectable man of our acquaintance much better? and do -muffs know that they are what they are, or, knowing it, are they unhappy? -Do girls decline to marry one if he is rich? Do we refuse to -dine with one? I listened to one at Church last Sunday, with all the -women crying and sobbing; and, oh, dear me! how finely he preached! -Don’t we give him great credit for wisdom and eloquence in the House of -Commons? Don’t we give him important commands in the army? Can -you, or can you not, point out one who has been made a peer? Doesn’t -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[Pg 45]</span>your wife call one in the moment any of the children are ill? Don’t we -read his dear poems, or even novels? Yes; perhaps even this one is read -and written by—Well? <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Quid rides?</span></i> Do you mean that I am painting -a portrait which hangs before me every morning in the looking-glass when -I am shaving? <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Après?</span></i> Do you suppose that I suppose that I have not -infirmities like my neighbours? Am I weak? It is notorious to all my -friends there is a certain dish I can’t resist; no, not if I have already -eaten twice too much at dinner. So, dear sir, or madam, have <i>you</i> your -weakness—<i>your</i> irresistible dish of temptation? (or if you don’t know it, -your friends do). No, dear friend, the chances are that you and I are not -people of the highest intellect, of the largest fortune, of the most ancient -family, of the most consummate virtue, of the most faultless beauty in -face and figure. We are no heroes nor angels; neither are we fiends from -abodes unmentionable, black assassins, treacherous Iagos, familiar with -stabbing and poison—murder our amusement, daggers our playthings, -arsenic our daily bread, lies our conversation, and forgery our common -handwriting. No, we are not monsters of crime, or angels walking the -earth—at least I know <i>one</i> of us who isn’t, as can be shown any day -at home if the knife won’t cut or the mutton comes up raw. But we are -not altogether brutal and unkind, and a few folks like us. Our poetry is -not as good as Alfred Tennyson’s, but we can turn a couplet for Miss -Fanny’s album: our jokes are not always first-rate, but Mary and her -mother smile very kindly when papa tells his story or makes his pun. We -have many weaknesses, but we are not ruffians of crime. No more was -my friend Lovel. On the contrary, he was as harmless and kindly a -fellow as ever lived when I first knew him. At present, with his changed -position, he is, perhaps, rather <i>fine</i> (and certainly I am not asked to his -<i>best</i> dinner-parties as I used to be, where you hardly see a commoner—but -stay! I am advancing matters). At the time when this story begins, -I say, Lovel had his faults—which of us has not? He had buried his -wife, having notoriously been henpecked by her. How many men and -brethren are like him! He had a good fortune—I wish I had as much—though -I daresay many people are ten times as rich. He was a good-looking -fellow enough; though that depends, ladies, upon whether you -like a fair man or a dark one. He had a country house, but it was only -at Putney. In fact, he was in business in the city, and being a hospitable -man, and having three or four spare bed-rooms, some of his friends were -always welcome at Shrublands, especially after Mrs. Lovel’s death, who -liked me pretty well at the period of her early marriage with my friend, -but got to dislike me at last and to show me the cold shoulder. That is a -joint I never could like (though I have known fellows who persist in -dining off it year after year, who cling hold of it, and refuse to be -separated from it). I say, when Lovel’s wife began to show me that she -was tired of my company, I made myself scarce: used to pretend to be -engaged when Fred faintly asked me to Shrublands; to accept his meek -apologies, proposals to dine <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en garçon</span></i> at Greenwich, the club, and so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[Pg 46]</span> -forth; and never visit upon him my wrath at his wife’s indifference—for -after all, he had been my friend at many a pinch: he never stinted at -Hart’s or Lovegrove’s, and always made a point of having the wine I liked, -never mind what the price was. As for his wife, there was, assuredly, no -love lost between us—I thought her a lean, scraggy, lackadaisical, egotistical, -consequential, insipid creature: and as for his mother-in-law, who -stayed at Fred’s as long and as often as her daughter would endure her, -has anyone who ever knew that notorious old Lady Baker at Bath, at -Cheltenham, at Brighton,—wherever trumps and frumps were found together; -wherever scandal was cackled; wherever fly-blown reputations -were assembled, and dowagers with damaged titles trod over each other -for the pas;—who, I say, ever had a good word for that old woman? -What party was not bored where she appeared? What tradesman was -not done with whom she dealt? I wish with all my heart I was about to -narrate a story with a good mother-in-law for a character; but then you -know, my dear madam, all good women in novels are insipid. This woman -certainly was not. She was not only not insipid, but exceedingly bad tasted. -She had a foul, loud tongue, a stupid head, a bad temper, an immense -pride and arrogance, an extravagant son, and very little money. Can I -say much more of a woman than this? Aha! my good Lady Baker! I -was a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mauvais sujèt</span></i>, was I?—I was leading Fred into smoking, drinking, -and low bachelor habits, was I? I, his old friend, who have borrowed -money from him any time these twenty years, was not fit company for you -and your precious daughter? Indeed! <i>I</i> paid the money I borrowed -from him like a man; but did <i>you</i> ever pay him, I should like to know? -When Mrs. Lovel was in the first column of <i>The Times</i>, <i>then</i> Fred and I -used to go off to Greenwich and Blackwall, as I said; then his kind old -heart was allowed to feel for his friend; <i>then</i> we could have the other -bottle of claret without the appearance of Bedford and the coffee, which -in Mrs. L.’s time used to be sent in to us before we could ring for a -second bottle, although she and Lady Baker had had three glasses each -out of the first. Three full glasses each, I give you my word! No, -madam, it was your turn to bully me once—now it is mine, and I use it. -No, you old Catamaran, though you pretend you never read novels, some -of your confounded good-natured friends will let you know of <i>this</i> one. -Here you are, do you hear? Here you shall be shown up. And so I -intend to show up <i>other</i> women and <i>other</i> men who have offended me. Is -one to be subject to slights and scorn, and not have revenge? Kindnesses -are easily forgotten; but injuries!—what worthy man does not keep <i>those</i> -in mind?</p> - -<p><img class="img100" src="images/i_044a.jpg" alt="I AM REFERRED TO CECILIA." /></p> - -<p class="pt">Before entering upon the present narrative, may I take leave to inform -a candid public, that though it is all true, there is not a word of truth -in it; that though Lovel is alive and prosperous, and you very likely -have met him, yet I defy you to point him out; that his wife (for he is -Lovel the Widower no more) is not the lady you imagine her to be, when -you say (as you will persist in doing), “Oh, that character is intended for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[Pg 47]</span> -Mrs. Thingamy, or was notoriously drawn from Lady So-and-so.” No. -You are utterly mistaken. Why, even the advertising-puffers have almost -given up that stale stratagem of announcing “<span class="smcap">Revelations from High -Life</span>.—The <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beau monde</span></i> will be startled at recognizing the portraits of some -of its brilliant leaders in Miss Wiggins’s forthcoming <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Roman de Société</span></i>.” -Or, “We suspect a certain ducal house will be puzzled to guess how the -pitiless author of <i>May Fair Mysteries</i> has become acquainted with (and -exposed with a fearless hand) <i>certain family secrets</i> which were thought -only to be known to a few of the very highest members of the aristocracy.” -No, I say; these silly baits to catch an unsuspecting public shall not be our -arts. If you choose to occupy yourself with trying to ascertain if a certain -cap fits one amongst ever so many thousand heads, you <i>may</i> possibly pop it -on the right one: but the cap-maker will perish before he tells you; -unless, of course, he has some private pique to avenge, or malice to wreak, -upon some individual who can’t by any possibility hit again;—<i>then</i>, -indeed, he will come boldly forward and seize upon his victim—(a bishop, -say, or a woman without coarse, quarrelsome male relatives, will be best)—and -clap on him, or her, such a cap, with such ears, that all the world shall -laugh at the poor wretch, shuddering, and blushing beet-root red, and -whimpering deserved tears of rage and vexation at being made the common -butt of society. Besides, I dine at Lovel’s still; his company and cuisine -are amongst the best in London. If they suspected I was taking them off, -he and his wife would leave off inviting me. Would any man of a generous -disposition lose such a valued friend for a joke, or be so foolish as to show -him up in a story? All persons with a decent knowledge of the world -will at once banish the thought, as not merely base, but absurd. I am -invited to his house one day next week: <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vous concevez</span></i> I can’t mention the -very day, for then he would find me out—and of course there would be no -more cards for his old friend. He would not like appearing, as it must be -owned he does in this memoir, as a man of not very strong mind. He -believes himself to be a most determined, resolute person. He is quick in -speech, wears a fierce beard, speaks with asperity to his servants (who liken -him to a—to that before-named sable or ermine contrivance, in which ladies -insert their hands in winter), and takes his wife to task so smartly, that I -believe she believes he believes he is the master of the house. “Elizabeth, -my love, he must mean A, or B, or D,” I fancy I hear Lovel say; and she -says, “Yes; oh! it is certainly D—his very image!” “D to a T,” says -Lovel (who is a neat wit). <i>She</i> may know that I mean to depict her -husband in the above unpretending lines: but she will never let me know -of her knowledge except by a little extra courtesy; except (may I make this -pleasing exception?) by a few more invitations; except by a look of those -unfathomable eyes (gracious goodness! to think she wore spectacles ever -so long, and put a lid over them as it were!), into which, when you gaze -sometimes, you may gaze so deep, and deep, and deep, that I defy you to -plumb half-way down into their mystery.</p> - -<p class="pt">When I was a young man, I had lodgings in Beak Street, Regent Street<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[Pg 48]</span> -(I no more have lived in Beak Street than in Belgrave Square: but I -choose to say so, and no gentleman will be so rude as to contradict another)—I -had lodgings, I say, in Beak Street, Regent Street. Mrs. Prior was the -landlady’s name. She had seen better days—landladies frequently have. -Her husband—he could not be called the landlord, for Mrs. P. was manager -of the place,—had been, in happier times, captain or lieutenant in the -militia; then of Diss, in Norfolk, of no profession; then of Norwich Castle, -a prisoner for debt; then of Southampton Buildings, London, law-writer; -then of the Bom-Retiro Cacadores, in the service of H. M. the Queen -of Portugal, lieutenant and paymaster; then of Melina Place, St. George’s -Fields, &c.—I forbear to give the particulars of an existence which a legal -biographer has traced step by step, and which has more than once been the -subject of judicial investigation by certain commissioners in Lincoln’s-inn -Fields. Well, Prior, at this time, swimming out of a hundred shipwrecks, -had clambered on to a lighter, as it were, and was clerk to a coal-merchant, -by the river-side. “You conceive, sir,” he would say, “my employment -is only temporary—the fortune of war, the fortune of war!” He smattered -words in not a few foreign languages. His person was profusely scented -with tobacco. Bearded individuals, padding the muddy hoof in the neighbouring -Regent Street, would call sometimes of an evening, and ask for -“the captain.” He was known at many neighbouring billiard-tables, and, -I imagine, not respected. You will not see enough of Captain Prior to be -very weary of him and his coarse swagger, to be disgusted by his repeated -requests for small money-loans, or to deplore his loss, which you will please -to suppose has happened before the curtain of our present drama draws up. -I think two people in the world were sorry for him: his wife, who -still loved the memory of the handsome young man who had wooed and -won her; his daughter Elizabeth, whom for the last few months of his life, -and up to his fatal illness, he every evening conducted to what he called -her “academy.” You are right. Elizabeth is the principal character in -this story. When I knew her, a thin, freckled girl of fifteen, with a lean -frock, and hair of a reddish hue, she used to borrow my books, and play -on the First Floor’s piano, when he was from home—Slumley his name was. -He was editor of the <i>Swell</i>, a newspaper then published; author of a great -number of popular songs, a friend of several music-selling houses; and it -was by Mr. Slumley’s interest that Elizabeth was received as a pupil at -what the family called “the academy.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Captain Prior then used to conduct his girl to the Academy, but -she often had to conduct him home again. Having to wait about the -premises for two, or three, or five hours sometimes, whilst Elizabeth was -doing her lessons, he would naturally desire to shelter himself from the -cold at some neighbouring house of entertainment. Every Friday, a -prize of a golden medal, nay, I believe sometimes of twenty-five silver -medals, was awarded to Miss Bellenden and other young ladies for their -good conduct and assiduity at this academy. Miss Bellenden gave her -gold medal to her mother, only keeping five shillings for herself, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[Pg 49]</span> -which the poor child bought gloves, shoes, and her humble articles of -millinery.</p> - -<p class="pt">Once or twice the captain succeeded in intercepting that piece of gold, -and I daresay treated some of his whiskered friends, the clinking trampers -of the Quadrant pavement. He was a free-handed fellow when he had -anybody’s money in his pocket. It was owing to differences regarding the -settlement of accounts that he quarrelled with the coal-merchant, his very -last employer. Bessy, after yielding once or twice to his importunity, and -trying to believe his solemn promises of repayment, had strength of mind -to refuse her father the pound which he would have taken. Her five -shillings—her poor little slender pocket-money, the representative of her -charities and kindnesses to the little brothers and sisters, of her little -toilette ornaments, nay necessities; of those well-mended gloves, of those -oft-darned stockings, of those poor boots, which had to walk many a weary -mile after midnight; of those little knicknacks, in the shape of brooch or -bracelet, with which the poor child adorned her homely robe or sleeve—her -poor five shillings, out of which Mary sometimes found a pair of shoes, -or Tommy a flannel jacket, and little Bill a coach and horse—this wretched -sum, this mite, which Bessy administered among so many poor—I very -much fear her father sometimes confiscated. I charged the child with -the fact, and she could not deny me. I vowed a tremendous vow, -that if ever I heard of her giving Prior money again, I would quit the -lodgings, and never give those children lolly-pop, nor peg-top, nor -sixpence; nor the pungent marmalade, nor the biting gingerbread-nut, -nor the theatre-characters, nor the paint-box to illuminate the same; -nor the discarded clothes, which became smaller clothes upon the -persons of little Tommy and little Bill, for whom Mrs. Prior, and Bessy, -and the little maid, cut, clipped, altered, ironed, darned, mangled, with -the greatest ingenuity. I say, considering what had passed between me -and the Priors—considering those money transactions, and those clothes, -and my kindness to the children—it was rather hard that my jam-pots -were poached, and my brandy-bottles leaked. And then to frighten -her brother with the story of the inexorable creditor—oh, Mrs. Prior!—oh, -fie, Mrs. P.!</p> - -<p class="pt">So Bessy went to her school in a shabby shawl, a faded bonnet, -and a poor little lean dress flounced with the mud and dust of all -weathers, whereas there were some other young ladies, fellow-pupils -of hers, who laid out their gold medals to much greater advantage. -Miss Delamere, with her eighteen shillings a week (calling them -“<i>silver medals</i>,” was only my wit, you see), had twenty new bonnets, -silk and satin dresses for all seasons, feathers in abundance, swansdown -muffs and tippets, lovely pocket handkerchiefs and trinkets, and many and -many a half-crown mould of jelly, bottle of sherry, blanket, or what not, -for a poor fellow-pupil in distress; and as for Miss Montanville, who had -exactly the same sal—well, who had a scholarship of exactly the same -value, viz. about fifty pounds yearly—she kept an elegant little cottage in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[Pg 50]</span> -the Regent’s Park, a brougham with a horse all over brass harness, and a -groom with a prodigious gold lace hat-band, who was treated with frightful -contumely at the neighbouring cab-stand: an aunt or a mother, I don’t -know which (I hope it was only an aunt), always comfortably dressed, and -who looked after Montanville: and she herself had bracelets, brooches, and -velvet pelisses of the very richest description. But then Miss Montanville -was a good economist. <i>She</i> was never known to help a poor friend in -distress, or give a fainting brother and sister a crust or a glass of wine. She -allowed ten shillings a week to her father, whose name was Boskinson, said -to be clerk to a chapel in Paddington; but she would never see him—no, -not when he was in hospital, where he was so ill; and though she certainly -lent Miss Wilder thirteen pounds, she had Wilder arrested upon her -promissory note for twenty-four, and sold up every stick of Wilder’s furniture, -so that the whole academy cried shame! Well, an accident occurred to -Miss Montanville, for which those may be sorry who choose. On the evening -of the 26th of December, Eighteen hundred and something, when the -conductors of the academy were giving their grand annual Christmas Pant—I -should say examination of the Academy pupils before their numerous -friends—Montanville, who happened to be present, not in her brougham -this time, but in an aërial chariot of splendour drawn by doves, fell off a -rainbow, and through the roof of the Revolving Shrine of the Amaranthine -Queen, thereby very nearly damaging Bellenden, who was occupying the -shrine, attired in a light-blue spangled dress, waving a wand, and uttering -some idiotic verses composed for her by the Professor of Literature attached -to the academy. As for Montanville, let her go shrieking down that trap-door, -break her leg, be taken home, and never more be character of ours. -She never could speak. Her voice was as hoarse as a fishwoman’s. Can -that immense stout old box-keeper at the —— theatre, who limps up to -ladies on the first tier, and offers that horrible footstool, which everybody -stumbles over, and makes a clumsy curtsey, and looks so knowing and hard, -as if she recognized an acquaintance in the splendid lady who enters the -box—can that old female be the once brilliant Emily Montanville? I am -told there are <i>no</i> lady box-keepers in the English theatres. This, I submit, -is a proof of my consummate care and artifice in rescuing from a prurient -curiosity the individual personages from whom the characters of the present -story are taken. Montanville is <i>not</i> a box-opener. She <i>may</i>, under -another name, keep a trinket-shop in the Burlington Arcade, for what -you know: but this secret no torture shall induce me to divulge. Life -has its rises and its downfalls, and you have had yours, you hobbling old -creature. Montanville, indeed! Go thy ways! Here is a shilling for thee. -(Thank you, sir.) Take away that confounded footstool, and never let us -see thee more!</p> - -<p class="pt">Now the fairy Amarantha was like a certain dear young lady of whom -we have read in early youth. Up to twelve o’clock, attired in sparkling -raiment, she leads the dance with the prince (Gradini, known as Grady in -his days of banishment at the T. R. Dublin). At supper, she takes her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[Pg 51]</span> -place by the prince’s royal father (who is alive now, and still reigns occasionally, -so that we will not mention his revered name). She makes believe -to drink from the gilded pasteboard, and to eat of the mighty pudding. She -smiles as the good old irascible monarch knocks the prime minister and the -cooks about: she blazes in splendour: she beams with a thousand jewels, in -comparison with which the Koh-i-noor is a wretched lustreless little pebble: -she disappears in a chariot, such as a Lord Mayor never rode in:—and at -midnight, who is that young woman tripping homeward through the wet -streets in a battered bonnet, a cotton shawl, and a lean frock fringed with -the dreary winter flounces?</p> - -<p class="pt">Our Cinderella is up early in the morning: she does no little portion of -the house-work: she dresses her sisters and brothers: she prepares papa’s -breakfast. On days when she has not to go to morning lessons at her -academy, she helps with the dinner. Heaven help us! She has often -brought mine when I have dined at home, and owns to having made that -famous mutton-broth when I had a cold. Foreigners come to the house—professional -gentlemen—to see Slumley on the first floor; exiled captains of -Spain and Portugal, companions of the warrior her father. It is surprising -how she has learned their accents, and has picked up French and Italian, -too. And she played the piano in Mr. Slumley’s room sometimes, as I have -said; but refrained from that presently, and from visiting him altogether. -I suspect he was not a man of principle. His Paper used to make direful -attacks upon individual reputations; and you would find theatre and opera -people most curiously praised and assaulted in the <i>Swell</i>. I recollect -meeting him, several years after, in the lobby of the opera, in a very noisy -frame of mind, when he heard a certain lady’s carriage called, and cried -out with exceeding strong language, which need not be accurately reported, -“Look at that woman! Confound her! I made her, sir! Got her an -engagement when the family was starving, sir! Did you see her, sir! -She wouldn’t even look at me!” Nor indeed was Mr. S. at that moment -a very agreeable object to behold.</p> - -<p class="pt">Then I remembered that there had been some quarrel with this man, -when we lodged in Beak Street together. If difficulty there was, it was -solved <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ambulando</span></i>. He quitted the lodgings, leaving an excellent and -costly piano as security for a heavy bill which he owed to Mrs. Prior, and -the instrument was presently fetched away by the music-sellers, its owners. -But regarding Mr. S.’s valuable biography, let us speak very gently. You -see it is “an insult to literature” to say that there are disreputable and dishonest -persons who write in newspapers.</p> - -<p class="pt">Nothing, dear friend, escapes your penetration: if a joke is made in -your company, you are down upon it instanter, and your smile rewards the -wag who amuses you: so you knew at once, whilst I was talking of -Elizabeth and her academy, that a theatre was meant, where the poor -child danced for a guinea, or five-and-twenty shillings per week. Nay, she -must have had not a little skill and merit to advance to the quarter of a -hundred; for she was not pretty at this time, only a rough, tawny-haired<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[Pg 52]</span> -filly of a girl, with great eyes. Dolphin, the manager, did not think much -of her, and she passed before him in his regiment of Sea-nymphs, or -Bayadères, or Fairies, or Mazurka maidens (with their fluttering lances -and little scarlet slyboots!) scarcely more noticed than private Jones -standing under arms in his company when his Royal Highness the Field-marshal -gallops by. There were no dramatic triumphs for Miss Bellenden: -no bouquets were flung at her feet: no cunning Mephistopheles—the -emissary of some philandering Faustus outside—corrupted her duenna, -or brought her caskets of diamonds. Had there been any such admirer -for Bellenden, Dolphin would not only not have been shocked, but he -would very likely have raised her salary. As it was, though himself, -I fear, a person of loose morals, he respected better things. “That -Bellenden’s a good hhonest gurl,” he said to the present writer: “works -hard: gives her money to her family: father a shy old cove. Very good -family, I hear they are!” and he passes on to some other of the innumerable -subjects which engage a manager.</p> - -<p class="pt">Now, why should a poor lodging-house keeper make such a mighty -secret of having a daughter earning an honest guinea by dancing at a -theatre? Why persist in calling the theatre an academy? Why did Mrs. -Prior speak of it as such, to me who knew what the truth was, and to -whom Elizabeth herself made no mystery of her calling?</p> - -<p class="pt">There are actions and events in its life over which decent Poverty often -chooses to cast a veil that is not unbecoming wear. We can all, if we are -minded, peer through this poor flimsy screen: often there is no shame -behind it:—only empty platters, poor scraps, and other threadbare evidence -of want and cold. And who is called on to show his rags to the public, -and cry out his hunger in the street? At this time (her character has -developed itself not so amiably since), Mrs. Prior was outwardly respectable; -and yet, as I have said, my groceries were consumed with remarkable -rapidity; my wine and brandy bottles were all leaky, until they were -excluded from air under a patent lock;—my Morel’s raspberry jam, of -which I was passionately fond, if exposed on the table for a few hours, -was always eaten by the cat, or that wonderful little wretch of a maid-of-all-work, -so active, yet so patient, so kind, so dirty, so obliging. Was it -<i>the maid</i> who took those groceries? I have seen the <i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gazza Ladra</span></i>, and -know that poor little maids are sometimes wrongfully accused; and -besides, in my particular case, I own I don’t care who the culprit was. -At the year’s end, a single man is not much poorer for this house-tax -which he pays. One Sunday evening, being confined with a cold, and -partaking of that mutton broth which Elizabeth made so well, and which -she brought me, I entreated her to bring from the cupboard, of which I -gave her the key, a certain brandy-bottle. She saw my face when I -looked at her: there was no mistaking its agony. There was scarce any -brandy left: it had all leaked away: and it was Sunday, and no good -brandy was to be bought that evening.</p> - -<p class="pt">Elizabeth, I say, saw my grief. She put down the bottle, and she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[Pg 53]</span> -cried: she tried to prevent herself from doing so at first, but she fairly -burst into tears.</p> - -<p class="pt">“My dear—dear child,” says I, seizing her hand, “you don’t suppose I -fancy you——”</p> - -<p class="pt">“No—no!” she says, drawing the large hand over her eyes. “No—no! -but I saw it when you and Mr. Warrington last ’ad some. Oh! do have -a patting lock!”</p> - -<p class="pt">“A patent lock, my dear?” I remarked. “How odd that you, who have -learned to pronounce Italian and French words so well, should make such -strange slips in English? Your mother speaks well enough.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“She was born a lady. She was not sent to be a milliner’s girl, as -I was, and then among those noisy girls at that—oh! that <i>place</i>!” cries -Bessy, in a sort of desperation clenching her hand.</p> - -<p class="pt">Here the bells of St. Beak’s began to ring quite cheerily for evening -service. I heard “Elizabeth!” cried out from lower regions by Mrs. Prior’s -cracked voice. And the maiden went her way to Church, which she and -her mother never missed of a Sunday; and I daresay I slept just as well -without the brandy-and-water.</p> - -<p class="pt">Slumley being gone, Mrs. Prior came to me rather wistfully one day, -and wanted to know whether I would object to Madame Bentivoglio, the -opera-singer, having the first floor? This was too much, indeed! How -was my work to go on with that woman practising all day and roaring -underneath me? But after sending away so good a customer, I could not -refuse to lend the Priors a little more money; and Prior insisted upon -treating me to a new stamp, and making out a new and handsome bill for -an amount nearly twice as great as the last: which he had no doubt under -heaven, and which he pledged his honour as an officer and a gentleman -that he would meet. Let me see: That was how many years ago?—Thirteen, -fourteen, twenty? Never mind. My fair Elizabeth, I think if you saw -your poor old father’s signature now, you would pay it. I came upon it -lately in an old box I haven’t opened these fifteen years, along with some -letters written—never mind by whom—and an old glove that I used to set -an absurd value by; and that emerald-green tabinet waistcoat which kind -old Mrs. Macmanus gave me, and which I wore at the L—d L—t—nt’s -ball, Ph-n-x Park, Dublin, once, when I danced with <i>her</i> there! Lord!—Lord! -It would no more meet round my waist now than round Daniel -Lambert’s. How we outgrow things!</p> - -<p class="pt">But as I never presented this united bill of 43<i>l.</i> odd (the first portion -of 23<i>l.</i>, &c. was advanced by me in order to pay an execution out of the -house),—as I never expected to have it paid any more than I did to be -Lord Mayor of London,—I say it was a little hard that Mrs. Prior should -write off to her brother (she writes a capital letter), blessing Providence -that had given him a noble income, promising him the benefit of her -prayers, in order that he should long live to enjoy his large salary, and -informing him that an obdurate creditor, who shall be nameless (meaning -me), who had Captain Prior <i>in his power</i> (as if being in possession of that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[Pg 54]</span> -dingy scrawl, I should have known what to do with it), who held Mr. Prior’s -acceptance for 43<i>l.</i> 14<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i> due on the 3rd July (my bill), would infallibly -bring their family to <span class="allsmcap">RUIN</span>, unless a part of the money was paid up. -When I went up to my old college, and called on Sargent, at Boniface -Lodge, he treated me as civilly as if I had been an undergraduate; scarcely -spoke to me in hall, where, of course, I dined at the Fellows’ table; and -only asked me to one of Mrs. Sargent’s confounded tea-parties during the -whole time of my stay. Now it was by this man’s entreaty that I went to -lodge at Prior’s; he talked to me after dinner one day, he hummed, he -ha’d, he blushed, he prated in his pompous way, about an unfortunate -sister in London—fatal early marriage—husband, Captain Prior, Knight of -the Swan with two Necks of Portugal, most distinguished officer, but -imprudent speculator—advantageous lodgings in the centre of London, -quiet, though near the Clubs—if I was ill (I am a confirmed invalid), -Mrs. Prior, his sister, would nurse me like a mother. So, in a word, I -went to Prior’s: I took the rooms: I was attracted by some children: -Amelia Jane (that little dirty maid before mentioned) dragging a go-cart, -containing a little dirty pair; another marching by them, carrying a fourth -well nigh as big as himself. These little folks, having threaded the mighty -flood of Regent Street, debouched into the quiet creek of Beak Street, just -as I happened to follow them. And the door at which the small caravan -halted,—the very door I was in search of,—was opened by Elizabeth, then -only just emerging from childhood, with tawny hair falling into her solemn -eyes.</p> - -<p class="pt">The aspect of these little people, which would have deterred many, -happened to attract me. I am a lonely man. I may have been ill-treated -by some one once, but that is neither here nor there. If I had had children -of my own, I think I should have been good to them. I thought Prior a -dreadful vulgar wretch, and his wife a scheming, greedy little woman. -But the children amused me: and I took the rooms, liking to hear overhead -in the morning the patter of their little feet. The person I mean has -several;—husband, judge in the West Indies. <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Allons</span></i>! now you know -how I came to live at Mrs. Prior’s.</p> - -<p class="pt">Though I am now a steady, a <i>confirmed</i> old bachelor (I shall call myself -Mr. Batchelor, if you please, in this story; and there is some one far—far -away who knows why I will <span class="allsmcap">NEVER</span> take another title), I was a gay young -fellow enough once. I was not above the pleasures of youth: in fact, I -learned quadrilles on purpose to dance with her that long vacation when I -went to read with my young friend Lord Viscount Poldoody at Dub—psha! -Be still, thou foolish heart! Perhaps I mis-spent my time as -an undergraduate. Perhaps I read too many novels, occupied myself too -much with “elegant literature” (that used to be our phrase), and spoke -too often at the Union, where I had a considerable reputation. But those -fine words got me no college prizes: I missed my fellowship: was rather -in disgrace with my relations afterwards, but had a small independence of -my own, which I eked out by taking a few pupils for little goes and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[Pg 55]</span> -common degree. At length, a relation dying, and leaving me a farther -small income, I left the university, and came to reside in London.</p> - -<p class="pt">Now, in my third year at college, there came to St. Boniface a young -gentleman, who was one of the few gentlemen-pensioners of our society. -His popularity speedily was great. A kindly and simple youth, he would -have been liked, I daresay, even though he had been no richer than the -rest of us; but this is certain, that flattery, worldliness, mammon-worship, -are vices as well known to young as to old boys; and a rich lad at school -or college has his followers, tuft-hunters, led-captains, little courts, just as -much as any elderly millionary of Pall-Mall, who gazes round his club to -see whom he shall take home to dinner, while humble trencher-men wait -anxiously, thinking—Ah! will he take me this time? or will he ask that -abominable sneak and toady Henchman again? Well—well! this is an old -story about parasites and flatterers. My dear good sir, I am not for a moment -going to say that <i>you</i> ever were one; and I daresay it was very base and -mean of us to like a man chiefly on account of his money. “I know”—Tom -Lovel used to say—“I know fellows come to my rooms because I have a -large allowance, and plenty of my poor old governor’s wine, and give good -dinners: I am not deceived; but, at least, it is pleasanter to come to me -and have good dinners, and good wine, than to go to Jack Highson’s dreary -tea and turnout, or to Ned Roper’s abominable Oxbridge port.” And so I -admit at once that Lovel’s parties <i>were</i> more agreeable than most men’s in -the college. Perhaps the goodness of the fare, by pleasing the guests, -made them more pleasant. A dinner in hall, and a pewter-plate is all -very well, and I can say grace before it with all my heart; but a dinner -with fish from London, game, and two or three nice little <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">entrées</span></i>, is better—and -there was no better cook in the university than ours at St. Boniface, -and ah, me! there were appetites then, and digestions which rendered the -good dinner doubly good.</p> - -<p class="pt">Between me and young Lovel a friendship sprang up, which, I -trust, even the publication of this story will not diminish. There is a -period, immediately after the taking of his bachelor’s degree, when many a -university-man finds himself embarrassed. The tradesmen rather rudely -press for a settlement of their accounts. Those prints we ordered <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">calidi -juventâ</span></i>; those shirt-studs and pins which the jewellers would persist in -thrusting into our artless bosoms; those fine coats we would insist on -having for our books, as well as ourselves; all these have to be paid for -by the graduate. And my father, who was then alive, refusing to meet -these demands, under the—I own—just plea, that my allowance had been -ample, and that my half-sisters ought not to be mulcted of their slender -portions, in consequence of my extravagance, I should have been subject -to very serious inconvenience—nay, possibly, to personal incarceration, -had not Lovel, at the risk of rustication, rushed up to London to his mother -(who then had <i>especial reasons</i> for being very gracious with her son), -obtained a supply of money from her, and brought it to me at Mr. -Shackell’s horrible hotel, where I was lodged. He had tears in his kind eyes;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[Pg 56]</span> -he grasped my hand a hundred and hundred times as he flung the notes -into my lap; and the recording tutor (Sargent was only tutor then) who -was going to bring him up before the Master for breach of discipline, -dashed away a drop from his own lid, when, with a moving eloquence, I -told what had happened, and blotted out the transaction with some particular -old 1811 Port, of which we freely partook in his private rooms -that evening. By laborious instalments, I had the happiness to pay -Lovel back. I took pupils, as I said; I engaged in literary pursuits: I -became connected with a literary periodical, and I am ashamed to say, I -imposed myself upon the public as a good classical scholar. I was not -thought the less learned, when my relative dying, I found myself in -possession of a small independency; and my <i>Translations from the -Greek</i>, my <i>Poems by Beta</i>, and my articles in the paper of which I -was part proprietor for several years, have had their little success in -their day.</p> - -<p class="pt">Indeed at Oxbridge, if I did not obtain university honours, at -least I showed literary tastes. I got the prize essay one year at -Boniface, and plead guilty to having written essays, poems, and a -tragedy. My college friends had a joke at my expense (a very small joke -serves to amuse those port-wine-bibbing fogies, and keeps them laughing -for ever so long a time)—they are welcome, I say, to make merry at my -charges—in respect of a certain bargain which I made on coming to London, -and in which, had I been Moses Primrose purchasing green spectacles, I -could scarcely have been more taken in. <i>My</i> Jenkinson was an old -college acquaintance, whom I was idiot enough to imagine a respectable -man: the fellow had a very smooth tongue, and sleek, sanctified exterior. -He was rather a popular preacher, and used to cry a good deal in the -pulpit. He, and a queer wine-merchant and bill-discounter, Sherrick by -name, had somehow got possession of that neat little literary paper, the -<i>Museum</i>, which, perhaps, you remember; and this eligible literary -property my friend Honeyman, with his wheedling tongue, induced me to -purchase. I bear no malice: the fellow is in India now, where I trust he -pays his butcher and baker. He was in dreadful straits for money when -he sold me the <i>Museum</i>. He began crying when I told him some -short time afterwards that he was a swindler, and from behind his pocket-handkerchief -sobbed a prayer that I should one day think better of him; -whereas my remarks to the same effect produced an exactly contrary -impression upon his accomplice, Sherrick, who burst out laughing in my -face, and said, “The more fool you.” Mr. Sherrick was right. He was -a fool, without mistake, who had any money-dealing with him; and poor -Honeyman was right, too; I don’t think so badly of him as I did. A -fellow so hardly pinched for money could not resist the temptation of -extracting it from such a greenhorn. I daresay I gave myself airs as -editor of that confounded <i>Museum</i>, and proposed to educate the public -taste, to diffuse morality and sound literature throughout the nation, and -to pocket a liberal salary in return for my services. I daresay I printed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[Pg 57]</span> -my own sonnets, my own tragedy, my own verses (to a Being who shall -be nameless, but whose conduct has caused a faithful heart to bleed not a -little). I daresay I wrote satirical articles, in which I piqued myself upon -the fineness of my wit, and criticisms, got up for the nonce, out of encyclopædias -and biographical dictionaries; so that I would be actually astounded -at my own knowledge. I daresay I made a gaby of myself to the world: -pray, my good friend, hast thou never done likewise? If thou hast never -been a fool, be sure thou wilt never be a wise man.</p> - -<p class="pt">I think it was my brilliant <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">confrère</span></i> on the first floor (he had pecuniary -transactions with Sherrick, and visited two or three of her Majesty’s metropolitan -prisons at that gentleman’s suit) who first showed me how grievously -I had been cheated in the newspaper matter. Slumley wrote for a paper -printed at our office. The same boy often brought proofs to both of us—a -little bit of a puny bright-eyed chap, who looked scarce twelve years old, -when he was sixteen; who in wit was a man, when in stature he was a -child,—like many other children of the poor.</p> - -<p class="pt">This little Dick Bedford used to sit many hours asleep on my landing-place -or Slumley’s, whilst we were preparing our invaluable compositions -within our respective apartments. S. was a good-natured reprobate, and -gave the child of his meat and his drink. I used to like to help the little man -from my breakfast, and see him enjoy the meal. As he sate, with his bag -on his knees, his head sunk in sleep, his little high-lows scarce reaching -the floor, Dick made a touching little picture. The whole house was fond -of him. The tipsy captain nodded him a welcome as he swaggered down -stairs, stock, and coat, and waistcoat in hand, to his worship’s toilette in -the back kitchen. The children and Dick were good friends; and -Elizabeth patronized him, and talked with him now and again, in her -grave way. You know Clancy, the composer?—know him better, perhaps, -under his name of Friedrich Donner? Donner used to write music to -Slumley’s words, or <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vice versâ</span></i>; and would come now and again to Beak -Street, where he and his poet would try their joint work at the piano. At -the sound of that music, little Dick’s eyes used to kindle. “Oh, it’s prime!” -said the young enthusiast. And I will say, that good-natured miscreant of -a Slumley not only gave the child pence, but tickets for the play, concerts, -and so forth. Dick had a neat little suit of clothes at home; his mother -made him a very nice little waistcoat out of my undergraduate’s gown; and -he and she, a decent woman, when in their best raiment, looked respectable -enough for any theatre-pit in England.</p> - -<p class="pt">Amongst other places of public amusement which he attended, Mr. -Dick frequented the academy where Miss Bellenden danced, and whence -poor Elizabeth Prior issued forth after midnight in her shabby frock. And -once, the captain, Elizabeth’s father and protector, being unable to walk -very accurately, and noisy and incoherent in his speech, so that the -attention of Messieurs of the police was directed towards him, Dick came -up, placed Elizabeth and her father in a cab, paid the fare with his -own money, and brought the whole party home in triumph, himself sitting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[Pg 58]</span> -on the box of the vehicle. I chanced to be coming home myself (from -one of Mrs. Wateringham’s elegant tea <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">soirées</span></i>, in Dorset Square), and -reached my door just at the arrival of Dick and his caravan. “Here, -cabby!” says Dick, handing out the fare, and looking with his brightest -eyes. It is pleasanter to look at that beaming little face, than at the -captain yonder, reeling into his house, supported by his daughter. Dick -cried, Elizabeth told me, when, a week afterwards, she wanted to -pay him back his shilling; and she said he was a strange child, that -he was.</p> - -<p class="pt">I revert to my friend Lovel. I was coaching Lovel for his degree -(which, between ourselves, I think he never would have attained), when -he suddenly announced to me, from Weymouth, where he was passing -the vacation, his intention to quit the university, and to travel abroad. -“Events have happened, dear friend,” he wrote, “which will make my -mother’s home miserable to me (I little knew when I went to town about -your business, what caused her <i>wonderful complaisance</i> to me). She would -have broken my heart, Charles (my Christian name is Charles), but its -wounds have found a <i>consoler</i>!”</p> - -<p class="pt">Now, in this little chapter, there are some little mysteries propounded, -upon which, were I not above any such artifice, I might easily leave the -reader to ponder for a month.</p> - -<p class="pt">1. Why did Mrs. Prior, at the lodgings, persist in calling the theatre at -which her daughter danced the Academy?</p> - -<p class="pt">2. What were the special reasons why Mrs. Lovel should be very -gracious with her son, and give him 150<i>l.</i> as soon as he asked for the -money?</p> - -<p class="pt">3. Why was Fred Lovel’s heart nearly broken? and 4. Who was his -consoler?</p> - -<p class="pt">I answer these at once, and without the slightest attempt at delay or -circumlocution. 1. Mrs. Prior, who had repeatedly received money from -her brother, John Erasmus Sargent, D.D., Master of St. Boniface College, -knew perfectly well that if the Master (whom she already pestered out -of his life) heard that she had sent a niece of his on the stage, he would -never give her another shilling.</p> - -<p class="pt">2. The reason why Emma, widow of the late Adolphus Loeffel, of -Whitechapel Road, sugar-baker, was so particularly gracious to her son, -Adolphus Frederic Lovel, Esq., of St. Boniface College, Oxbridge, and -principal partner in the house of Loeffel aforesaid, an infant, was that she, -Emma, was about to contract a second marriage with the Rev. Samuel -Bonnington.</p> - -<p class="pt">3. Fred Lovel’s heart was so very much broken by this intelligence, -that he gave himself airs of Hamlet, dressed in black, wore his long fair -hair over his eyes, and exhibited a hundred signs of grief and desperation: -until—</p> - -<p class="pt">4. Louisa (widow of the late Sir Popham Baker, of Bakerstown, -Co. Kilkenny, Baronet,) induced Mr. Lovel to take a trip on the Rhine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[Pg 59]</span> -with her and Cecilia, fourth and only unmarried daughter of the aforesaid -Sir Popham Baker, deceased.</p> - -<p class="pt">My opinion of Cecilia I have candidly given in a previous page. I -adhere to that opinion. I shall not repeat it. The subject is disagreeable -to me, as the woman herself was in life. What Fred found in her to -admire, I cannot tell: lucky for us all that tastes, men, women, vary. -You will never see her alive in this history. That is her picture, painted -by the late Mr. Gandish. She stands fingering that harp with which -she has often driven me half mad with her <i>Tara’s Halls</i> and her <i>Poor -Marianne</i>. She used to bully Fred so, and be so rude to his guests, that -in order to pacify her, he would meanly say, “Do, my love, let us have a -little music!” and thrumpty—thrumpty, off would go her gloves, and -<i>Tara’s Halls</i> would begin. “The harp that <i>once</i>” indeed! the accursed -catgut scarce knew any other music, and “once” was a hundred times at -least in <i>my</i> hearing. Then came the period when I was treated to the cold -joint which I have mentioned; and, not liking it, I gave up going to -Shrublands.</p> - -<p class="pt">So, too, did my Lady Baker, but not of <i>her own free will</i>, mind you. -<i>She</i> did not quit the premises because her reception was too cold, but -because the house was made a great deal too hot for her. I remember -Fred coming to me in high spirits, and describing to me, with no little -humour, a great battle between Cecilia and Lady Baker, and her ladyship’s -defeat and flight. She fled, however, only as far as Putney village, where -she formed again, as it were, and fortified herself in a lodging. Next day -she made a desperate and feeble attack, presenting herself at Shrublands -lodge-gate, and threatening that she and sorrow would sit down before it; -and that all the world should know how a daughter treated her mother. -But the gate was locked, and Barnet, the gardener, appeared behind it, -saying, “Since you <i>are</i> come, my lady, perhaps you will pay my missis -the four-and-twenty shillings you borrowed of her.” And he grinned at -her through the bars, until she fled before him, cowering. Lovel paid the -little forgotten account; the best four-and-twenty shillings he had ever laid -out, he said.</p> - -<p class="pt">Eight years passed away; during the last four of which I scarce saw my -old friend, except at clubs and taverns, where we met privily, and renewed, -not old warmth and hilarity, but old kindness. One winter he took -his family abroad; Cecilia’s health was delicate, Lovel told me, and the -doctor had advised that she should spend a winter in the south. He -did not stay with them: he had pressing affairs at home; he had embarked -in many businesses besides the paternal sugar-bakery; was concerned -in companies, a director of a joint-stock bank, a man in whose fire were -many irons. A faithful governess was with the children; a faithful -man and maid were in attendance on the invalid; and Lovel, adoring -his wife, as he certainly did, yet supported her absence with great -equanimity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[Pg 60]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">In the spring I was not a little scared to read amongst the deaths in -the newspaper:—“At Naples, of scarlet fever, on the 25th ult., Cecilia, -wife of Frederick Lovel Esq., and daughter of the late Sir Popham Baker, -Bart.” I knew what my friend’s grief would be. He had hurried abroad -at the news of her illness; he did not reach Naples in time to receive the -last words of his poor Cecilia.</p> - -<p class="pt">Some months after the catastrophe, I had a note from Shrublands. -Lovel wrote quite in the old affectionate tone. He begged his dear old -friend to go to him, and console him in his solitude. Would I come to -dinner that evening?</p> - -<p class="pt">Of course I went off to him straightway. I found him in deep sables -in the drawing-room with his children, and I confess I was not astonished -to see my Lady Baker once more in that room.</p> - -<p class="pt">“You seem surprised to see me here, Mr. Batchelor!” says her -ladyship, with that grace and good breeding which she generally exhibited; -for if she accepted benefits, she took care to insult those from whom she -received them.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Indeed, no,” said I, looking at Lovel, who piteously hung down his -head. He had his little Cecy at his knee: he was sitting under the -portrait of the defunct musician, whose harp, now muffled in leather, stood -dimly in the corner of the room.</p> - -<p class="pt">“I am here not at my own wish, but from a feeling of duty towards -that—departed—angel!” says Lady Baker, pointing to the picture.</p> - -<p class="pt">“I am sure when mamma was here, you were always quarrelling,” says -little Popham, with a scowl.</p> - -<p class="pt">“This is the way those innocent children have been taught to regard -me,” cries grandmamma.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Silence Pop!” says papa, “and don’t be a rude boy.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Isn’t Pop a rude boy?” echoes Cecy.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Silence, Pop,” continues papa, “or you must go up to Miss Prior.”</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="Studies_in_Animal_Life">Studies in Animal Life.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Authentic tidings of invisible things;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And central peace subsisting at the heart</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of endless agitation.”—<span class="smcap">The Excursion.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> - -<p class="contents">Omnipresence of Life—The Microscope—An Opalina and its wonders—The uses of -Cilia—How our lungs are protected from dust and filings—Feeding without a mouth -or stomach—What is an organ?—How a complex organism arises—Early stages -of a frog and a philosopher—How the plants feed—Parasites of the frog—Metamorphoses -and migrations of Parasites—Life within life—The budding of animals—A -steady bore—Philosophy of the infinitely little.</p> - -<p class="pb0">Come with me, and lovingly study Nature, as she breathes, palpitates, and -works under myriad forms of Life—forms unseen, unsuspected, or unheeded -by the mass of ordinary men. Our course may be through park and -meadow, garden and lane, over the swelling hills and spacious heaths, -beside the running and sequestered streams, along the tawny coast, out on -the dark and dangerous reefs, or under dripping caves and slippery ledges. -It matters little where we go: everywhere—in the air above, the earth -beneath, and waters under the earth—we are surrounded with Life. Avert -your eyes awhile from our human world, with its ceaseless anxieties, its -noble sorrow, poignant, yet sublime, of conscious imperfection aspiring to -higher states, and contemplate the calmer activities of that other world -with which we are so mysteriously related. I hear you exclaim,—</p> - -<p class="center pa0 pb0">“The proper study of mankind is man;”</p> - -<p class="pa0 pb0">nor will I pretend, as some enthusiastic students seem to think, that</p> - -<p class="center pa0 pb0">“The proper study of mankind is <i>cells</i>;”</p> - -<p class="pa0">but agreeing with you, that man is the noblest study, I would suggest -that under the noblest there are other problems which we must not neglect. -Man himself is imperfectly known, because the laws of universal Life are -imperfectly known. His Life forms but one grand illustration of Biology—the -science of Life,<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> as he forms but the apex of the animal world.</p> - -<p class="pt">Our studies here will be of Life, and chiefly of those minuter, or -obscurer forms, which seldom attract attention. In the air we breathe, in -the water we drink, in the earth we tread on, Life is everywhere. Nature -<i>lives</i>: every pore is bursting with Life; every death is only a new birth, -every grave a cradle. And of this we know so little, think so little! -Around us, above us, beneath us, that great mystic drama of creation is -being enacted, and we will not even consent to be spectators! Unless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[Pg 62]</span> -animals are obviously useful, or obviously hurtful to us, we disregard -them. Yet they are not alien, but akin. The Life that stirs within us, -stirs within them. We are all “parts of one transcendent whole.” The -scales fall from our eyes when we think of this; it is as if a new sense had -been vouchsafed to us; and we learn to look at Nature with a more intimate -and personal love.</p> - -<p class="pt">Life everywhere! The air is crowded with birds—beautiful, tender, -intelligent birds, to whom life is a song and a thrilling anxiety, the anxiety -of love. The air is swarming with insects—those little animated miracles. -The waters are peopled with innumerable forms, from the animalcule, so -small that one hundred and fifty millions of them would not weigh a grain, -to the whale, so large that it seems an island as it sleeps upon the waves. -The bed of the seas is alive with polypes, crabs, star-fishes, and with sand-numerous -shell-animalcules. The rugged face of rocks is scarred by the -silent boring of soft creatures; and blackened with countless mussels, -barnacles, and limpets.</p> - -<p class="pt">Life everywhere! on the earth, in the earth, crawling, creeping, burrowing, -boring, leaping, running. If the sequestered coolness of the wood -tempt us to saunter into its chequered shade, we are saluted by the -murmurous din of insects, the twitter of birds, the scrambling of squirrels, -the startled rush of unseen beasts, all telling how populous is this seeming -solitude. If we pause before a tree, or shrub, or plant, our cursory and -half-abstracted glance detects a colony of various inhabitants. We pluck -a flower, and in its bosom we see many a charming insect busy at its -appointed labour. We pick up a fallen leaf, and if nothing is visible on it, -there is probably the trace of an insect larva hidden in its tissue, and -awaiting there development. The drop of dew upon this leaf will probably -contain its animals, visible under the microscope. This same microscope -reveals that the <i>blood-rain</i> suddenly appearing on bread, and awakening -superstitious terrors, is nothing but a collection of minute animals (<i>Monas -prodigiosa</i>); and that the vast tracts of snow which are reddened in a -single night, owe their colour to the marvellous rapidity in reproduction of -a minute plant (<i>Protococcus nivalis</i>). The very mould which covers our -cheese, our bread, our jam, or our ink, and disfigures our damp walls; is -nothing but a collection of plants. The many-coloured fire which sparkles -on the surface of a summer sea at night, as the vessel ploughs her way, or -which drips from the oars in lines of jewelled light, is produced by millions -of minute animals.</p> - -<p class="pt">Nor does the vast procession end here. Our very mother-earth is -formed of the débris of life. Plants and animals which have been, build up -its solid fabric.<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> We dig downwards, thousands of feet below the surface, -and discover with surprise the skeletons of strange, uncouth animals, which -roamed the fens and struggled through the woods before man was. Our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[Pg 63]</span> -surprise is heightened when we learn that the very quarry itself is mainly -composed of the skeletons of microscopic animals; the flints which grate -beneath our carriage wheels are but the remains of countless skeletons. -The Apennines and Cordilleras, the chalk cliffs so dear to homeward-nearing -eyes—these are the pyramids of bygone generations of atomies. -Ages ago, these tiny architects secreted the tiny shells, which were their -palaces; from the ruins of these palaces we build our Parthenons, our St. -Peters, and our Louvres. So revolves the luminous orb of Life! Generations -follow generations; and the Present becomes the matrix of the -Future, as the Past was of the Present: the Life of one epoch forming the -prelude to a higher Life.</p> - -<p class="pt">When we have thus ranged air, earth, and water, finding everywhere a -prodigality of living forms, visible and invisible, it might seem as if the -survey were complete. And yet it is not so. Life cradles within Life. -The bodies of animals are little worlds, having their own animals and -plants. A celebrated Frenchman has published a thick octavo volume -devoted to the classification and description of “The Plants which grow on -Men and Animals;”<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> and many Germans have described the immense -variety of animals which grow on and in men and animals; so that science -can now boast of a parasitic Flora and Fauna. In the fluids and tissues, -in the eye, in the liver, in the stomach, in the brain, in the muscles, -parasites are found; and these parasites have often <i>their</i> parasites living in -them!</p> - -<p class="pt pb0">We have thus taken a bird’s-eye view of the field in which we may -labour. It is truly inexhaustible. We may begin where we please, we -shall never come to an end; our curiosity will never slacken.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">“And whosoe’er in youth</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Has thro’ ambition of his soul given way</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To such desires, and grasp’d at such delights,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shall feel congenial stirrings, late and long.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="pa0">As a beginning, get a microscope. If you cannot borrow, boldly buy one. -Few purchases will yield you so much pleasure; and while you are about -it, do, if possible, get a good one. Spend as little money as you can on -accessory apparatus and expensive fittings, but get a good stand and good -glasses. Having got your instrument, bear in mind these two important -trifles—work by daylight, seldom or never by lamplight; and keep the -unoccupied eye <i>open</i>. With these precautions you may work daily for -hours without serious fatigue to the eye.</p> - -<p class="pt"> -Now where shall we begin? Anywhere will do. This dead frog, for -example, that has already been made the subject of experiments, and is -<img class="left10m x-ebookmaker-drop" src="images/i_064_1.jpg" alt="Fig. 1: OPALINA RANARUM" /> -now awaiting the removal of its spinal cord, will serve us as a text from -which profitable lessons may be drawn. We snip out a portion of its -digestive tube, which from its emptiness seems to promise little; but a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[Pg 64]</span> -drop of the liquid we find in it is placed on a glass slide, covered with a -small piece of very thin glass, and brought under the microscope. Now -look. There are several things which might -occupy your attention; but disregard them now -to watch that animalcule which you observe -swimming about. What is it? It is one of the -largest of the Infusoria, and is named <i>Opalina</i>. -When I call this an Infusorium I am using the -language of text-books; but there seems to be a -growing belief among zoologists that the Opalina -is not an Infusorium, but the infantile condition -of some worm (<i>Distoma</i>?). However, it will -not grow into a mature worm as long as it -inhabits the frog; it waits till some pike, or -bird, has devoured the frog, and then, in the -stomach of its new captor, it will develop into -its mature form: then, and not till then. This -surprises you? And well it may; but thereby -hangs a tale, which to unfold—for the present, -however, it must be postponed, because the -Opalina itself needs all our notice.</p> - -<div class="center hidescreen"> -<img class="img40" src="images/i_064_1.jpg" alt="Fig. 1: OPALINA RANARUM" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt">Observe how transparent it is, and with what easy, undulating grace it -swims about; yet this swimmer has no arms, no legs, no tail, no backbone -to serve as a fulcrum to moving muscles: nay, it has no muscles to -move with. ’Tis a creature of the most absolute abnegations: sans eyes, -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[Pg 65]</span>sans teeth, sans everything;—no, not sans everything, for as we look -attentively we see certain currents produced in the liquid, and on applying -a higher magnifying power we detect how these currents are produced. -All over the surface of the Opalina there are delicate hairs, in incessant -vibration: these are the <i>cilia</i>.<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> They lash the water, and the animal is -propelled by their strokes, as a galley by its hundred oars. This is your -first sight of that ciliary action of which you have so often read, and -which you will henceforth find performing some important service in -almost every animal you examine. Sometimes the cilia act as instruments -of locomotion; sometimes as instruments of respiration, by continually -renewing the current of water; sometimes as the means of drawing in -food—for which purpose they surround the mouth, and by their incessant -action produce a small whirlpool into which the food is sucked. An -example of this is seen in the Vorticella (Fig. 2).</p> - -<div class="center img60 hidescreen"> -<img class="center img90" src="images/i_064_2.jpg" alt="Fig. 2: GROUP OF VORTICELLA NEBULIFERA, on a Stem of Weed, Magnified" /> -</div> - -<div class="center img35m x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<img class="center img90" src="images/i_064_2.jpg" alt="Fig. 2: GROUP OF VORTICELLA NEBULIFERA, on a Stem of Weed, Magnified" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt">Having studied the action of these cilia in microscopic animals, you -will be prepared to understand their office in your own organism. The -lining membrane of your air-passages is covered with cilia; which may -be observed by following the directions of Professor Sharpey, to whom -science is indebted for a very exhaustive description of these organs. “To -see them in motion, a portion of the ciliated mucous membrane may be -taken from a recently-killed quadruped. The piece of membrane is to be -folded with its free, or ciliated, surface outwards, placed on a slip of glass, -with a little water or serum of blood, and covered with thin glass or mica. -When it is now viewed with a power of 200 diameters, or upwards, a -very obvious agitation will be perceived on the edge of the fold, and this -appearance is caused by the moving cilia with which the surface of the -membrane is covered. Being set close together, and moving simultaneously -or in quick succession, the cilia, when in brisk action, give rise to -the appearance of a bright transparent fringe along the fold of the membrane, -agitated by such a rapid and incessant motion that the single -threads which compose it cannot be perceived. The motion here meant -is that of the cilia themselves; but they also set in motion the adjoining -fluid, driving it along the ciliated surface, as is indicated by the agitation -of any little particles that may accidentally float in it. The fact of the -conveyance of fluids and other matters along the ciliated surface, as well -as the direction in which they are impelled, may also be made manifest by -immersing the membrane in fluid, and dropping on it some finely-pulverized -substance (such as charcoal in fine powder), which will be slowly -but steadily carried along in a constant and determinate direction.”<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></p> - -<p class="pt">It is an interesting fact, that while the direction in which the cilia -propel fluids and particles is generally towards the interior of the organism, -it is sometimes <i>reversed</i>; and, instead of beating the particles inwards, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[Pg 66]</span> -cilia energetically beat them back, if they attempt to enter. Fatal results -would ensue if this were not so. Our air-passages would no longer protect -the lungs from particles of sand, coal-dust, and filings, flying about the -atmosphere; on the contrary, the lashing hairs which cover the surface of -these passages would catch up every particle, and drive it onwards into -the lungs. Fortunately for us, the direction of the cilia is reversed, and -they act as vigilant janitors, driving back all vagrant particles with a stern -“No admittance—<i>even</i> on business!” In vain does the whirlwind dash a -column of dust in our faces—in vain does the air, darkened with coal-dust, -impetuously rush up the nostrils: the air is allowed to pass on, but the dust -is inexorably driven back. Were it not so, how could miners, millers, -iron-workers, and all the modern Tubal Cains contrive to live in their -loaded atmospheres? In a week, their lungs would be choked up.</p> - -<p class="pt">Perhaps, you will tell me that this <i>is</i> the case: that manufacturers of -iron and steel are very subject to consumption; and that there is a peculiar -discoloration of the lungs which has often been observed in coal miners, -examined after death.</p> - -<p class="pt">Not being a physician, and not intending to trouble you with medical -questions, I must still place before you three considerations, which will -show how untenable this notion is. First, although consumption may be -frequent among the Sheffield workmen, the cause is not to be sought in -their breathing filings, but in the sedentary and unwholesome confinement -incidental to their occupation. Miners and coal-heavers are not troubled -with consumption. Moreover, if the filings were the cause, all the artisans -would suffer, when all breathe the same atmosphere. Secondly, while -it is true that discoloured lungs have been observed in some miners, -it has not been observed in all, or in many; whereas, it has been observed -in men not miners, not exposed to any unusual amount of coal-dust. -Thirdly, and most conclusively, experiment has shown that the coal-dust -<i>cannot</i> penetrate to the lungs. Claude Bernard, the brilliant experimenter, -tied a bladder, containing a quantity of powdered charcoal, to the muzzle -of a rabbit. Whenever the animal breathed, the powder within the -bladder was seen to be agitated. Except during feeding time, the bladder -was kept constantly on, so that the animal breathed only this dusty air. -If the powder <i>could</i> have escaped the vigilance of the cilia, and got into -the lungs, this was a good occasion. But when the rabbit was killed and -opened, many days afterwards, no powder whatever was found in the -lungs, or bronchial tubes; several patches were collected about the nostrils -and throat; but the cilia had acted as a strainer, keeping all particles from -the air-tubes.</p> - -<p class="pt">The swimming apparatus of the Opalina has led us far away from the -little animal, who has been feeding while we have been lecturing. At -the mention of feeding, you naturally look for the food that is eaten, the -mouth and stomach that eat. But I hinted just now that this ethereal -creature dispenses with a stomach, as too gross for its nature; and of course, -by a similar refinement, dispenses with a mouth. Indeed, it has no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[Pg 67]</span> -organs whatever, except the cilia just spoken of. The same is true of -several of the Infusoria; for you must know that naturalists no longer -recognize the complex organization which Ehrenberg fancied he had -detected in these microscopic beings. If it pains you to relinquish the -piquant notion of a microscopic animalcule having a structure equal in -complexity to that of the elephant, there will be ample compensation in the -notion which replaces it, the notion of an ascending series of animal organisms, -rising from the structureless <i>amœba</i> to the complex frame of a -mammal. On a future occasion we shall see that, great as Ehrenberg’s services -have been, his <i>interpretations</i> of what he saw have one by one been -replaced by truer notions. His immense class of Infusoria has been, and -is constantly being, diminished; many of his animals turn out to be plants; -many of them embryos of worms; and some of them belong to the same -divisions of the animal kingdom as the oyster and the shrimp: that is to say, -they range with the Molluscs and Crustaceans. In these, of course, there -is a complex organization; but in the Infusoria, as now understood, the -organization is extremely simple. No one now believes the clear spaces -visible in their substance to be stomachs, as Ehrenberg believed; and the -idea of the <i>Polygastrica</i>, or many-stomached Infusoria, is abandoned. No -one believes the coloured specs to be eyes; because, not to mention the -difficulty of conceiving eyes where there is no nervous system, it has been -found that even the spores of some plants have these coloured specs; and -they are assuredly not eyes. If, then, we exclude the highly-organized -<i>Rotifera</i>, or “Wheel Animalcules,” which are genuine Crustacea, we may -say that all Infusoria, whether they be the young of worms or not, are of -very simple organization.</p> - -<p class="pt">And this leads us to consider what biologists mean by an <i>organ</i>: it is -a particular portion of the body set apart for the performance of some -particular function. The whole process of development is this setting -apart for special purposes. The starting-point of Life is a single cell—that -is to say, a microscopic sac, filled with liquid and granules, and having -within it a nucleus, or smaller sac. Paley has somewhere remarked, that -in the early stages, there is no difference discernible between a frog and a -philosopher. It is very true; truer than he conceived. In the earliest -stage of all, both the Batrachian and the Philosopher are nothing but -single cells; although the one cell will develop into an Aristotle or a -Newton, and the other will get no higher than the cold, damp, croaking -animal which boys will pelt, anatomists dissect, and Frenchmen eat. From -the starting-point of a single cell, this is the course taken: the cell divides -itself into two, the two become four, the four eight, and so on, till a mass -of cells is formed, not unlike the shape of a mulberry. This mulberry-mass -then becomes a sac, with double envelopes, or walls: the inner wall, -turned towards the yelk, or food, becomes the <i>assimilating</i> surface for the -whole; the outer wall, turned towards the surrounding medium, becomes -the surface which is to bring frog and philosopher into contact and relation -with the external world—the Non-Ego, as the philosopher, in after life, will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[Pg 68]</span> -call it. Here we perceive the first grand “setting apart,” or <i>differentiation</i>, -has taken place: the embryo having an assimilating surface, which has -little to do with the external world; and a sensitive, contractile surface, -which has little to do with the preparation and transport of food. The -embryo is no longer a mass of similar cells; it is already become dissimilar, -<i>different</i>, as respects its inner and outer envelope. But these envelopes are -at present uniform; one part of each is exactly like the rest. Let us, -therefore, follow the history of Development, and we shall find that the -inner wall gradually becomes unlike itself in various parts; and that -certain organs, constituting a very complex apparatus of Digestion, Secretion, -and Excretion, are all one by one wrought out of it, by a series of -metamorphoses, or <i>differentiations</i>. The inner wall thus passes from a -simple assimilating surface to a complex apparatus serving the functions of -vegetative life.</p> - -<p class="pt">Now glance at the outer wall: from it also various organs have -gradually been wrought: it has developed into muscles, nerves, bones, -organs of sense, and brain: all these from a simple homogeneous -membrane!</p> - -<p class="pt pb0">With this bird’s-eye view of the course of Development, you will be -able to appreciate the grand law first clearly enunciated by Goethe and -Von Baer, as the law of animal life, namely, that Development is always -from the general to the special, from the simple to the complex, from the -homogeneous to the heterogeneous; and this by a gradual series of -<i>differentiations</i>.<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> Or to put it into the music of our deeply meditative -Tennyson:—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“All nature widens upward. Evermore</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The simpler essence lower lies:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">More complex is more perfect—owning more</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Discourse, more widely wise.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="pt">You are now familiarized with the words “differentiation” and “development,” -so often met with in modern writers; and have gained a distinct -idea of what an “organ” is; so that on hearing of an animal without -organs, you will at once conclude that in such an animal there has been no -setting apart of any portion of the body for special purposes, but that all -parts serve all purposes indiscriminately. Here is our Opalina, for -example, without mouth, or stomach, or any other organ. It is an -assimilating surface in every part; in every part a breathing, sensitive -surface. Living on liquid food, it does not need a mouth to seize, or a -stomach to digest, such food. The liquid, or gas, passes through the -Opalina’s delicate skin, by a process which is called <i>endosmosis</i>; it there -serves as food; and the refuse passes out again by a similar process, called -<i>exosmosis</i>. This is the way in which many animals and all plants are -nourished. The cell at the end of a rootlet, which the plant sends -burrowing through the earth, has no mouth to seize, no open pores to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[Pg 69]</span> -admit the liquid that it needs; nevertheless the liquid passes into the cell, -through its delicate cell-wall, and passes from this cell to <i>other</i> cells, -upwards from the rootlet to the bud. It is in this way, also, that the -Opalina feeds: it is all-mouth, no-mouth; all-stomach, no-stomach. Every -part of its body performs the functions which in more complex animals -are performed by organs specially set apart. It feeds without mouth, -breathes without lungs, and moves without muscles.</p> - -<p class="pt"> -The Opalina, as I said, is a parasite. It may be found in various -animals, and almost always in the frog. You will, perhaps, ask why it -<img class="right10m x-ebookmaker-drop" src="images/i_069.jpg" alt="Fig. 3: POLYSTOMUM INTEGERRIMUM, Magnified" /> -should be considered a parasite; why may it not have been swallowed by -the frog in a gulp of water? Certainly, nothing would have been easier. -But to remove your doubts, I open the skull of this frog, and carefully -remove a drop of the liquid found inside, which, on being brought under -the microscope, we shall most probably find containing some animalcules, -especially those named <i>Monads</i>. These were not swallowed. They live -in the cerebro-spinal fluid, as the Opalina lives in the digestive tube. Nay, -if we extend our researches, we shall find that various organs have their -various parasites. Here, for instance, is a parasitic worm from the frog’s -bladder. Place it under the microscope, with a high power, and behold! -It is called <i>Polystomum</i>—many-mouthed, or, -more properly, many-suckered. You are looking -at the under side, and will observe six large -suckers with their starlike clasps (<i>e</i>), and the -horny instrument (<i>f</i>), with which the animal -bores its way. At <i>a</i> there is another sucker, -which serves also as a mouth; at <i>b</i> you perceive -the rudiment of a gullet, and at <i>d</i> the -reproductive organs. But pay attention to the -pretty branchings of the digestive tube (<i>c</i>) -which ramifies through the body like a blood-vessel.</p> - -<div class="center hidescreen"> -<img class="img40" src="images/i_069.jpg" alt="Fig. 3: POLYSTOMUM INTEGERRIMUM, Magnified" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt">This arrangement of the digestive tube is -found in many animals, and is often mistaken -for a system of blood-vessels. In one sense -this is correct; for these branching tubes are -carriers of nutriment, and the only circulating -vessels such animals possess; but the nutriment -is <i>chyme</i>, not blood: these simple animals -have not arrived at the dignity of blood, which -is a higher elaboration of the food, fitted for -higher organisms.</p> - -<p class="pt">Thus may our frog, besides its own marvels, afford us many “authentic -tidings of invisible things,” and is itself a little colony of Life. Nature is -economic as well as prodigal of space. She fills the illimitable heavens -with planetary and starry grandeurs, and the tiny atoms moving over the -crust of earth she makes the homes of the infinitely little. Far as the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[Pg 70]</span> -mightiest telescope can reach, it detects worlds in clusters, like pebbles on -the shore of Infinitude; deep as the microscope can penetrate, it detects -Life within Life, generation within generation; as if the very Universe itself -were not vast enough for the energies of Life!</p> - -<p class="pt">That phrase, generation within generation, was not a careless phrase; it -is exact. Take the tiny insect (<i>Aphis</i>) which, with its companions, crowds -your rose-tree; open it, in a solution of sugar-water, under your microscope, -and you will find in it a young insect nearly formed; open that -young insect with care, and you will find in it, also, another young one, -less advanced in its development, but perfectly recognizable to the experienced -eye; and beside this embryo you will find many eggs, which -would in time become insects!</p> - -<p class="pt">Or take that lazy water-snail (<i>Paludina vivipara</i>), first made known to -science by the great Swammerdamm, the incarnation of patience and -exactness, and you will find, as he found, forty or fifty young snails, in -various stages of development; and you will also find, as he found, some -tiny worms, which, if you cut them open, will suffer three or four infusoria -to escape from the opening.<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> In your astonishment you will ask, Where -is this to end?</p> - -<p class="pt">The observation recorded by Swammerdamm, like so many others of -this noble worker, fell into neglect; but modern investigators have made it -the starting-point of a very curious inquiry. The worms he found within -the snail are now called <i>Cercaria-sacs</i>, because they contain the <i>Cercariæ</i>, -once classed as Infusoria, and which are now known to be the early forms -of parasitic worms inhabiting the digestive tube, and other cavities, of -higher animals. These <i>Cercariæ</i> have vigorous tails, with which they -swim through the water like tadpoles, and like tadpoles, they lose their -tails in after life. But how, think you, did these sacs containing <i>Cercariæ</i> -get into the water-snails? “By spontaneous generation,” formerly said the -upholders of that hypothesis; and those who condemned the hypothesis -were forced to admit they had no better explanation. It was a mystery, -which they preferred leaving unexplained, rather than fly to spontaneous -generation. And they were right. The mystery has at length been -cleared up.<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> I will endeavour to bring together the scattered details, and -narrate the curious story.</p> - -<p class="pt">Under the eyelids of geese and ducks may be constantly found a parasitic -worm (of the <i>Trematode</i> order), which naturalists have christened <i>Monostomum -mutabile</i>—Single-mouth, Changeable. This worm brings forth -living young, in the likeness of active Infusoria, which, being covered with -cilia, swim about in the water, as we saw the Opalina swim. Here is a -portrait of one. (Fig. 4.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[Pg 71]</span></p> - -<p class="pt"> -Each of these animalcules develops a sac in its interior. The sac you -may notice in the engraving. Having managed to get into the body of the -<img class="right15m x-ebookmaker-drop" src="images/i_071_1.jpg" alt="Fig. 4: A - EMBRYO OF MONOSTOMUM MUTABILE; B - Cercaria sac, just set free" /> -water-snail, the animalcule’s part in -the drama is at an end. It dies, and -in dying liberates the sac, which is -very comfortably housed and fed by -the snail. If you examine this sac -(Fig. 5), you will observe that it has -a mouth and digestive tube, and is, -therefore, very far from being, what -its name imports, a mere receptacle; -it is an independent animal, and -lives an independent life. It feeds -generously on the juices of the snail, -and having fed, thinks generously of -the coming generations. It was born -inside the animalcule; why should it not in turn give birth to children of -its own? To found a dynasty, to scatter progeny over the bounteous earth, -is a worthy ambition. The mysterious agency of Reproduction -begins in this sac-animal; and in a short while -a brood of <i>Cercariæ</i> move within it. The sac bursts, -and the brood escapes. But how is this? The children -are by no means the “very image” of their parent. -They are not sacs, nor in the least resembling sacs, as -you see. (Fig. 6.)</p> - -<div class="hidescreen center"> -<img class="img50" src="images/i_071_1.jpg" alt="Fig. 4: A - EMBRYO OF MONOSTOMUM MUTABILE; B - Cercaria sac, just set free" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt pc"> -They have tails, and suckers, and sharp boring instruments, -with other organs which their parent was -<img class="right8m x-ebookmaker-drop" src="images/i_071_2.jpg" alt="Fig. 5: CERCARIA SAC" /> -without. To look at them you would as soon suspect -a shrimp to be the progeny of an oyster, as these to be -the progeny of the sac-animal. And what makes the -paradox more paradoxical is, that not only are the -<i>Cercariæ</i> unlike their parent, but their parent was -equally unlike its parent the embryo of <i>Monostomum</i> (compare fig. 4). -However, if we pursue this family history, we shall -find the genealogy rights itself at last, and that this -Cercaria will develop in the body of some bird into -a <i>Monostomum mutabile</i> like its ancestor. Thus the -worm produces an animalcule, which produces a sac-animal, -which produces a Cercaria, which becomes a -worm exactly resembling its great-grandfather.</p> - -<div class="hidescreen center"> -<img class="img30" src="images/i_071_2.jpg" alt="Fig. 5: CERCARIA SAC" /> -</div> - -<div class="hidescreen center"> -<img class="img30" src="images/i_071_3.jpg" alt="Fig. 6: CERCARICA DEVELOPED" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt pc"> -One peculiarity in this history is that while the -<i>Monostomum</i> produces its young in the usual way, -the two <i>intermediate</i> forms are produced by a process -<img class="right8m x-ebookmaker-drop" src="images/i_071_3.jpg" alt="Fig. 6: CERCARICA DEVELOPED" /> -of budding, analogous to that observed in plants. -Plants, as you know, are reproduced in two ways, -from the seed, and from the bud. For seed-reproduction,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[Pg 72]</span> -peculiar organs are necessary; for bud-reproduction, there is -no such differentiation needed: it is simply an out-growth. The same -is true of many animals: they also bud like plants, and produce seeds -(eggs) like plants. I have elsewhere argued that the two processes are -essentially identical; and that both are but special forms of growth.<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> -Not, however, to discuss so abstruse a question here, let us merely note -that the Monostomum, into which the Cercaria will develop, produces eggs, -from which young will issue; the second generation is not produced from -eggs, but by internal budding; the third generation is likewise budded internally; -but it, on acquiring maturity, will produce eggs. For this maturity, -it is indispensable that the Cercaria should be swallowed by some bird or -animal; only in the digestive tube can it acquire its egg-producing condition. -How is it to get there? The ways are many; let us witness one:—</p> - -<p class="pt">In this watchglass of water we have several <i>Cercariæ</i> swimming about. -To them we add three or four of those darting, twittering insects which -you have seen in every vase of pond-water, and have learned to be the -larvæ, or early forms, of the <i>Ephemeron</i>. The <i>Cercariæ</i> cease flapping the -water with their impatient tails, and commence a severe scrutiny of the -strangers. When Odry, in the riotous farce, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Les Saltimbanques</span></i>, finds a -portmanteau, he exclaims, “<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Une malle! ce doit être à moi!</span></i>” (“Surely this -<i>must</i> belong to me!”) This seems to be the theory of property adopted by -the Cercaria: “An insect! surely this belongs to me!” Accordingly every -one begins creeping over the bodies of the Ephemera, giving an interrogatory -poke with the spine, which will pierce the first soft place it can -detect. Between the segments of the insect’s armour a soft and pierceable -spot is found; and now, lads, to work! Onwards they bore, never relaxing -in their efforts till a hole is made large enough for them to slip in by -elongating their bodies. Once in, they dismiss their tails as useless appendages; -and begin what is called the process of <i>encysting</i>—that is, of rolling -themselves up into a ball, and secreting a mucus from their surface, which -hardens round them like a shell. Thus they remain snugly ensconced in -the body of the insect, which in time develops into a fly, hovers over the -pond, and is swallowed by some bird. The fly is digested, and the liberated -Cercaria finds itself in comfortable quarters, its shell is broken, and its -progress to maturity is rapid.</p> - -<p class="pt">Von Siebold’s description of another form of emigration he has observed -in parasites will be read with interest. “For a long time,” he -says, “the origin of the threadworm, known as <i>Filaria insectorum</i>, that -lives in the cavity of the bodies of adult and larval insects, could not be -accounted for. Shut up within the abdominal cavity of caterpillars, grasshoppers, -beetles, and other insects, these parasites were supposed to originate -by spontaneous generation, under the influence of wet weather or from -decayed food. Helminthologists (students of parasitic worms) were obliged -to content themselves with this explanation, since they were unable to find<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[Pg 73]</span> -a better. Those who dissected these threadworms and submitted them to -a careful inspection, could not deny the probability, since it was clear that -they contained no trace of sexual organs. But on directing my attention -to these entozoa, I became aware of the fact that they were not true -<i>Filariæ</i> at all, but belonged to a peculiar family of threadworms, embracing -the genera of <i>Gordius</i> and <i>Mermis</i>. Furthermore, I convinced -myself that these parasites wander away when full-grown, boring their -way from within through any soft place in the body of their host, and -creeping out through the opening. These parasites do not emigrate because -they are uneasy, or because the caterpillar is sickly; but from that same -internal necessity which constrains the horsefly to leave the stomach of -the horse where he has been reared, or which moves the gadfly to work -its way out through the skin of the oxen. The larvæ of both these insects -creep forth in order to become chrysalises, and thence to proceed to their -higher and perfect condition. I have demonstrated that the perfect, full-grown, -but <i>sexless</i> threadworms of insects are in like manner moved by -their desire to wander out of their previous homes, in order to enter upon -a new period of their lives, which ends in the development of their sex. -As they leave the bodies of their hosts they fall to the ground, and crawl -away into the deeper and moister parts of the soil. Threadworms found -in the damp earth, in digging up gardens and cutting ditches, have often -been brought to me, which presented no external distinctions from the -threadworms of insects. This suggested to me that the wandering -threadworms of insects might instinctively bury themselves in damp -ground, and I therefore instituted a series of experiments by placing the -newly-emigrated worms in flower-pots filled with damp earth. To my -delight I soon perceived that they began to bore with their heads into the -earth, and by degrees drew themselves entirely in. For many months I -kept the earth in the flower-pots moderately moist, and on examining the -worms from time to time I found they had gradually attained their sex-development, -and eggs were deposited in hundreds. Towards the conclusion -of winter I could succeed in detecting the commencing development -of the embryos in these eggs. By the end of spring they were fully formed, -and many of them having left their shells were to be seen creeping about -the earth. I now conjectured that these young worms would be impelled -by their instincts to pursue a parasitic existence, and to seek out an animal -to inhabit and to grow to maturity in; and it seemed not improbable that -the brood I had reared would, like their parents, thrive best in the caterpillar. -In order, therefore, to induce my young brood to immigrate, I -procured a number of very small caterpillars which the first spring sunshine -had just called into life. For the purpose of my experiment I filled -a watch-glass with damp earth, taking it from amongst the flower-pots -where the threadworms had wintered. Upon this I placed several of the -young caterpillars.” The result was as he expected; the caterpillars were -soon bored into by the worms, and served them at once as food and home.<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[Pg 74]</span></p> -<p class="pt">Frogs and parasites, worms and infusoria—are these worth the attention -of a serious man? They have a less imposing appearance than planets -and asteroids, I admit, but they are nearer to us, and admit of being more -intimately known; and because they are thus accessible, they become more -important to us. The life that stirs within us is also the life within them. -It is for this reason, as I said at the outset, that although man’s noblest -study must always be man, there are other studies less noble, yet not -therefore ignoble, which must be pursued, even if only with a view to the -perfection of the noblest. Many men, and those not always the ignorant, -whose scorn of what they do not understand is always ready, despise the -labours which do not obviously and directly tend to moral or political -advancement. Others there are, who, fascinated by the grandeur of -Astronomy and Geology, or by the immediate practical results of Physics -and Chemistry, disregard all microscopic research as little better than -dilettante curiosity. But I cannot think any serious study is without its -serious value to the human race; and I know that the great problem of -Life can never be solved while we are in ignorance of its simpler forms. -Nor can anything be more unwise than the attempt to limit the sphere of -human inquiry, especially by applying the test of immediate utility. All -truths are related; and however remote from our daily needs some -particular truth may seem, the time will surely come when its value will -be felt. To the majority of our countrymen during the Revolution, when -the conduct of James seemed of incalculable importance, there would have -seemed something ludicrously absurd in the assertion that the newly-discovered -differential calculus was infinitely more important to England and to -Europe than the fate of all the dynasties; and few things could have seemed -more remote from any useful end than this product of mathematical genius; -yet it is now clear to every one that the conduct of James was supremely -insignificant in comparison with this discovery. I do not say that men -were unwise to throw themselves body and soul into the Revolution; I -only say they would have been unwise to condemn the researches of -mathematicians.</p> - -<p class="pt">Let all who have a longing to study Nature in any of her manifold -aspects, do so without regard to the sneers or objections of men whose tastes -and faculties are directed elsewhere. From the illumination of many -minds on many points, Truth must finally emerge. Man is, in Bacon’s -noble phrase, the minister and interpreter of Nature; let him be careful -lest he suffer this ministry to sink into a priesthood, and this interpretation -to degenerate into an immovable dogma. The suggestions of apathy, and -the prejudices of ignorance, have at all times inspired the wish to close the -temple against new comers. Let us be vigilant against such suggestions, -and keep the door of the temple ever open.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> The needful term Biology (from <i>Bios</i>, life, and <i>logos</i>, discourse) is now -becoming generally adopted in England, as in Germany. It embraces all the separate -sciences of Botany, Zoology, Comparative Anatomy, and Physiology.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> See <span class="smcap">Ehrenberg</span>: <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Microgeologie: das Erden und Felsen schaffende Wirken des -unsichtbar kleinen selbstständigen Lebens auf der Erde</span></i>. 1854.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> <span class="smcap">Charles Robin</span>: <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Histoire Naturelle des Végétaux Parasites qui croissent sur -l’Homme et sur les Animaux Vivants</span></i>. 1853.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> From <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">cilium</span></i>, a hair.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> <i>Quain’s Anatomy.</i> By <span class="smcap">Sharpey and Ellis</span>. Sixth edition. I., p. lxxiii. See -also <span class="smcap">Sharpey’s</span> article, <i>Cilia</i>, in the <i>Cyclopædia of Anatomy and Physiology</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> <span class="smcap">Goethe</span>: <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Zur Morphologie</span></i>, 1807. <span class="smcap">Von Baer</span>: <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Zur Entwickelungsgeschichte</span></i>, -1828. Part I., p. 158.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> <span class="smcap">Swammerdamm</span>. <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Bibel der Natur</span></i>, pp. 75-77.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> By <span class="smcap">Von Siebold</span>. See his interesting work, <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ueber die Band-und-Blasenwürmer</span></i>. -It has been translated by <span class="smcap">Huxley</span>, and appended to the translation of <span class="smcap">Kuechenmeister</span> -<i>on Parasites</i>, published by the Sydenham Society.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> <i>Seaside Studies</i>, pp. 308, <i>sq.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> <span class="smcap">Von Siebold</span>: <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ueber Band-und-Blasenwürmer</span></i>. Translated by <span class="smcap">Huxley</span>.</p></div></div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="Father_Prouts_Inaugurative_Ode">Father Prout’s Inaugurative Ode</h2> -</div> - -<p class="motto">TO THE AUTHOR OF “VANITY FAIR.”</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center">I.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Ours is a faster, quicker age:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet erst at <span class="smcap">Goldsmith’s</span> homely Wakefield Vicarage,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">While Lady <span class="smcap">Blarney</span> from the West End glozes</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Mid the <span class="smcap">Primroses</span>,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Fudge! cries Squire <span class="smcap">Thornhill</span>,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Much to the wonder of young greenhorn <span class="smcap">Moses</span>.</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Such word of scorn ill</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Matches the “Wisdom Fair” thy whim proposes</div> - <div class="verse indent8">To hold on <span class="smcap">Cornhill</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">II.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">With Fudge, or Blarney, or the “Thames on Fire!”</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Treat not thy buyer;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">But proffer good material—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">A genuine Cereal,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Value for twelvepence, and not dear at twenty.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Such wit replenishes thy Horn of Plenty!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">III.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Nor wit alone dispense,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">But sense:</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And with thy sparkling Xerez</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Let us have Ceres.</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Of loaf thou hast no lack,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Nor set, like <span class="smcap">Shakespeare’s</span> zany, forth,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">With lots of sack,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Of bread one pennyworth.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">IV.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">Sprightly, and yet sagacious,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Funny, yet farinaceous,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Dashing, and yet methodical—</div> - <div class="verse indent6">So may thy periodical,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">On this auspicious morn,</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Exalt its horn,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Thron’d on the <span class="smcap">Hill of Corn</span>!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">V.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Of aught that smacks of sect, surplice, or synod,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Be thy grain winnow’d!</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Nor deign to win our laugh</div> - <div class="verse indent6">With empty chaff.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shun aught o’er which dullard or bigot gloats;</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Nor seek our siller</div> - <div class="verse indent4">With meal from <span class="smcap">Titus Oates</span></div> - <div class="verse indent6">Or flour of <span class="smcap">Joseph Miller</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[Pg 76]</span></p> - -<p class="center">VI.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s corn in Egypt still</div> - <div class="verse indent0">(Pilgrim from Cairo to Cornhill!)</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Give each his fill.</div> - <div class="verse indent4">But all comers among</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Treat best the young;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Fill the big brothers’ knapsacks from thy bins,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But slip the Cup of Love in <span class="smcap">Benjamin’s</span>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">VII.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">Next as to those</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Who bring their lumbering verse or ponderous prose</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To where good <span class="smcap">Smith and Elder</span></div> - <div class="verse indent4">Have so long held their</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Well-garnish’d Cornhill storehouse—</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Bid them not bore us.</div> - <div class="verse indent8">Tell them instead</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To take their load next street, the <span class="smcap">Hall of Lead</span>!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">VIII.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Only one word besides—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">As he who tanneth hides</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Stocketh with proper implements his tannery:</div> - <div class="verse indent4">So thou, Friend! do not fail</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To store a stout corn flail,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ready for use, within thy Cornhill granary.</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Of old there walked abroad,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Prompt to right wrongs, Caliph <span class="smcap">Haroun al Rashid</span>:</div> - <div class="verse indent6">Deal thus with Fraud,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or Job or Humbug—thrash it!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - -<p class="center">IX.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Courage, old Friend! long found</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Firm at thy task, nor in fixt purpose fickle:</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Up! choose thy ground,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Put forth thy shining sickle;—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Shun the dense underwood</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of Dunce or Dunderhood:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But reap North, South, East, Far West,</div> - <div class="verse indent6">The world-wide Harvest!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="Our_Volunteers">Our Volunteers.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The French nation has indisputably the most warlike propensities of any -in the world. Other countries make warlike preparations in self-defence, -for the maintenance of their own rights and possessions, and to prevent any -other power, or combination of powers, obtaining a position menacing to -their safety, or injurious to their liberties. Their governments, when there -are valid grounds for alarm, instil these apprehensions into the minds of -the people, who are soon roused to meet the threatened danger. But the -unremitting pursuit of the French nation is military glory: no government -of that country can exist without ministering to it. France is -now armed to the teeth, and ready to do battle for any cause—even “for -an idea.”</p> - -<p class="pt">England is the nation which, perhaps sooner than any other, may be -called upon to check her in the indulgence of this propensity; and this -country also offers more points against which aggressive operations can be -carried out. Hence it is natural that the preparations of France should be -made chiefly with reference to a contest with Great Britain; and these -preparations have now arrived at such formidable proportions that it would -be infatuation in us to neglect the means of resistance.</p> - -<p class="pt">The strongest evidence in support of this hypothesis is to be found in -the fact that the most extraordinary preparations which have been gradually -but rapidly made by the French Government, at a vast expense—namely, -its naval and coast armaments—can be directed against no other power -but England. It does not necessarily follow that any aggressive measures -are positively contemplated; but it is not the less essential for us to maintain -a corresponding force, available not only against invasion, should it be -attempted, but strong enough to protect our commerce by securing the -freedom of the seas, and thus preventing this country from being reduced -to a subordinate power.</p> - -<p class="pt">British statesmen know and declare, and the nation feels, that it is -essential to the maintenance of our possessions, our commerce, and our -influence, that we should have a preponderating naval force. Other -governments may demur to this, and may even be disposed to dispute the -point, as France appears to be now preparing to do. It then becomes a -question of national power and resources. This is an unfortunate alternative, -but it is one which will not admit of compromise or arbitration: <i>we</i> -consider an absolute superiority on the seas essential to the safety of our -shores, the prosperity of our commerce, and the security of our colonies; -<i>they</i> manifest a determination to contest our maritime supremacy, and to -create a force which shall give them even a preponderating influence.</p> - -<p class="pt">Let us put the case in what may be deemed the legitimate view, repudiating -altogether any feeling of national animosity or prejudice. Whatever<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[Pg 78]</span> -may be the result of the impending struggle for naval superiority—which -does not altogether depend upon numerical force, but may be greatly -influenced by the proficiency of either side in employing the newly-invented -implements and modes of warfare—it must be conceded that we -cannot expect our superiority will be so absolute as to enable us to trust -entirely to our “wooden walls,” or to defensive armaments afloat: we -must have an ample array of land forces to protect our homes, if menaced -by the vast armies of France, which are constantly maintained in a state of -full equipment and readiness.</p> - -<p class="pt">Large armaments maintained during times of peace are repugnant to -the feelings and good sense of the English nation; and yet if other nations, -less strongly animated by industrial impulses and the principles of political -economy, will accumulate immense powers of aggression, we must, in self-defence, -maintain efficient means of resisting them. Patriotic feeling and -high spirit in the population, even though aided by abundance of arms and -ammunition, will not now, as in olden times, suffice. Soldiership is become -a scientific profession; and an apprenticeship to the art of war, with skill -and experience in every branch of it, are absolutely necessary to oppose -with success a well-trained and disciplined force.</p> - -<p class="pt">Our difficulties in the way of self-preservation are materially increased -by the nature of our institutions and our feelings of personal independence. -All other great nations in Europe have a power of compulsory enlistment; -we have not: if we had, our standing forces for army and navy might be -more moderate,—if we only retained efficacious means of rapid organization -and equipment. According to our system, however, it is so long before -we can procure the necessary number of men for the war establishment, -that our only safety must consist in a much greater amount of permanent -forces. In short, our purse must pay for our pride.</p> - -<p class="pt">The volunteer system, however, tends, in some degree, to remedy this -disadvantage, and will become more and more valuable in proportion as it -shall conform itself gradually to such arrangements as will make our volunteers -efficient for acting with our regular forces.</p> - -<p class="pt">The first and prevalent idea from which the volunteer system sprang -was of a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">levée en masse</span></i>; that every man animated by British pluck and -spirit (and they would number hundreds of thousands) should be well -practised in the use of the rifle, and, in case of invasion, should turn out to -oppose the enemy, to line the hedges, hang upon the flank and rear of the -invading force, and cut it to pieces.</p> - -<p class="pt">That our volunteers, who have nobly come forward spontaneously, -without any prompting from government, would be ready to devote their -lives, as they are devoting their time and energies, to the defence of their -country against invasion, no one who appreciates the English character will -doubt; but that such a heterogeneous body of men, if opposed to a highly-trained -and disciplined force of veteran soldiers, would be able to repel the -attack of an army, is now generally admitted to be a fallacy; and it would -be doing injustice to the intelligence and good sense of Englishmen to blink<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[Pg 79]</span> -the truth, which must be obvious to every soldier who has had experience -of actual warfare.</p> - -<p class="pt">Bodies of civilians, however courageous and well drilled, would be ill -calculated to bear the hardships and fatigues of a soldier’s life; nor could -they be relied upon, even as a matter of numbers: a rainy night or two in -the open fields, and occasional short supplies of food, would thin their ranks -prodigiously. It cannot be supposed that men of any class or nation, -however brave, suddenly leaving comfortable homes and in-door pursuits, -could endure that exposure and privation which is required of soldiers—men -selected for their hardy constitutions and well-knit frames, and trained -to implicit obedience, and habituated to act together. Composed of men of -different descriptions and habits, without military discipline and organization, -they would be wanting in cohesion and unity of action; or if each -man or small party acted on individual impulse, their efforts would be -unavailing to arrest the progress of an army advancing in solid masses, like -some vast and complex machine animated by life and motion. Panics -would be rife amongst them, and but few of the bravest even would stand -when they heard the action gaining on their flanks and rear. Moreover, -no general would know how to deal with numbers of them under his -command, for fear of his dispositions being deranged by their proceedings; -nor could any commissariat or other department be prepared to provide for -so uncertain and fluctuating a body.</p> - -<p class="pt">A confidence in the efficiency of an armed population to resist the -invasion of their country by regular armies has been created by reference -to history; and the examples of the United States, of the Tyrol, of Spain, -and others, have been triumphantly quoted; but an investigation into the -circumstances of each case will show how greatly they all differ from such -circumstances as would attend an attack upon England. In the cases cited, -either the country was wild and mountainous, without communications and -resources, the invading army small, or the contest greatly prolonged: -rarely, if ever, has the invader been thoroughly checked <i>in his first progress</i>; -but when forced to break into detachments and to act in small bodies, he -has, by a spirited and energetic population, been harassed beyond his -strength, and thus <i>eventually</i> forced to abandon the attempt.</p> - -<p class="pt">It being evident, then, that a mere rising in mass of the population -would be unavailing, and even mischievous, leading to a lamentable waste -of life, and encouraging the invaders in proportion as the defenders were -discomfited, we have now to consider the best means of utilizing the present -volunteer movement, which assumes for its basis some degree of organization -and training.</p> - -<p class="pt">Government prudently abstained from any interference with the movement, -or from involving itself in any undertaking to organize the volunteers; -for that would have led, not only to great and indefinite expenses, but to -the abstracting of available resources from the established forces of the -country, and also to other inconveniences, without, as yet, any reliable and -adequate advantages in prospect. The movement being thus left to its own<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[Pg 80]</span> -impulses, a large number of gentlemen, and others in sufficiently easy circumstances, -determined to enrol themselves, in different localities, into self-supporting -corps of riflemen. Their determination was most spirited and -praiseworthy, and government, without pledging itself to any fixed or -great amount of support, now affords, in many ways, aid and direction to -the movement, without too minute an interference in its essentially -voluntary arrangements.</p> - -<p class="pt">Thus we have already many thousands of stout hearts, constituting an -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">impromptu</span></i> armed force, at little cost to government, advancing in organization -and exercises, having arms and accoutrements, and above all, making -preparation for thoroughly practising with the rifle—their strongest desire -being to become first-rate shots. Here is a mass of most superb material; -but we would earnestly impress upon the volunteers, and upon the country, -not to rely too much upon stout hearts and good shots: much else is -needful. It is quite a mistake to suppose that mere perfection in firing at -a mark will make a good rifleman for the field. Volunteers, to be efficient -in action, must form a component part of an army. Every part of an -army in the field must be well in hand of the generals in command—light -infantry and riflemen must be equal to all movements, in compact as well -as dispersed order, and in the several combinations of the two. By this -alone will they be really formidable, and by this alone will they acquire a -confidence and steadiness which mere innate courage can never give.</p> - -<p class="pt">In order to act as riflemen and light infantry conjointly with regular -troops, volunteers will require the highest possible training as soldiers. -Ordinary infantry are put together and kept together, and—unlike those -who must act more independently and with greater skill—are always under -the eye and hand of the officer who directs the movement. In the confusion -of action, and amidst inequalities of ground and varying circumstances, -light troops are very much at a loss, until, by practice, they -acquire a steadiness which is the result of a thorough knowledge of the -business and of active exercise in it. By the term “acting as light infantry -and riflemen” is not meant a system of irregular or guerilla warfare, for -which it may be readily conceived that a volunteer force of citizens is -entirely unfit.</p> - -<p class="pt">It is to be hoped that our volunteers will not listen to their flatterers -who would persuade them that they will make efficient irregulars. No one -who considers the composition of these bodies, and the habits and pursuits -of the classes from which they spring, can seriously suppose that they -would make anything of the kind. Neither the nature of this country, nor -the occupations of its inhabitants, are favourable for an irregular system -of warfare; nor would the rapid field operations consequent upon an -invasion afford much opportunity for bringing irregular forces into play, -even if we possessed the best in the world.</p> - -<p class="pt">In opposition to these views, it will be said that the universal employment -of the rifle has effected a revolution in warfare, and that our riflemen, -sheltered at a distance behind hedges and trees, would annihilate the enemy’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[Pg 81]</span> -artillery and paralyze his operations. To this it may be answered that -the enemy will employ riflemen for the same purpose, who will cover his -artillery and produce an equal effect upon our own; that new systems of -warfare are met with new systems of tactics, and that the advantage is -always left with the highest-trained troops. In whatever order numbers -of men may be brought into action, success will always attend that party -which, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">cæteris paribus</span></i>, brings the greatest number to bear upon a given -point; and this can be effected only by the organization and discipline of -regular troops.</p> - -<p class="pt">Let us hope, then, that the volunteers will earnestly practise those more -complicated exercises which render light infantry the highest-trained body -in an army. For this purpose they should, after being pretty well grounded -in their business, give themselves up for a few weeks’ consecutive service -at one of the great camps; this would give them a much better insight -into the nature of the service, by which men of their intelligence would -greatly profit. It is probable that many individuals in each corps would -not be able to attend for such a long period; still, if there were a large -party present, a tone of information on the real duties of a campaign -would be instilled into the body as a whole, which would be most -serviceable.</p> - -<p class="pt">Another advantage which would attend this occasional service of the -volunteers at the camps would consist in their gradually habituating themselves -to long marches, and to carrying a knapsack; both of which are -matters of deep importance for rendering efficient service in the field: for, -as Marshal Saxe truly remarks, the success of an army depends more upon -the judicious use made of the legs than of the arms of the soldiers.</p> - -<p class="pt">Apprehensions have been entertained that our volunteers, composed, as -they will be, of men accustomed to the comforts and conveniences of life, -would, however animated by daring for fight, be disgusted not merely with -the hardships, but (as compared with their usual habits) the indignities of a -common soldier’s life, such as the hard fare, the necessary but menial -occupations of cooking, the care and cleaning of their clothes and arms, -and the discomfort of being huddled together in masses in tents, or houses, -if they have the good fortune to obtain either. But they will, it is to be -hoped, have well considered that such disagreeables are inevitable, and have -made up their minds to bear with what will be, probably, the hardest task -for them; considering, also, that it would hardly be for any long duration. -They will recollect that on many parts of the Continent, young men of the -easiest circumstances, and of rank and station in society, serve an apprenticeship -in the regular army as privates, and submit to many of the discomforts -of a private soldier’s life, even without the excitement of a state -of warfare. There is more danger of the volunteers failing through want -of physical hardihood to endure the fatigue of long marches, exposure to -the weather, and the casualties of service in the field; and, therefore, preparatory -service in a camp would be needful, not only to make them good -soldiers, but to test their powers of endurance: for it should be borne in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[Pg 82]</span> -mind that a robust frame and strong constitution are essential to the efficiency -of the soldier; and wanting these physical requisites, the best shot -would soon become incapacitated, and consequently an incumbrance to the -service.</p> - -<p class="pt">In some districts, the subscriptions raised for the general expenses of -the volunteer corps are allowed to extend to aid the equipment of men of -insufficient means to provide for themselves. This will have a most beneficial -effect; for such men will mostly be of a hardy class and accustomed -to muscular activity or out-door occupations; they will be selected because -they possess the proper qualifications; and many of them subsequently, -with all their military acquirements, may join the established army. In -proportion as this system shall be extended, will the advantages resulting -from the volunteer system be increased.</p> - -<p class="pt">Another very beneficial effect might be produced—and will probably -arise out of the spirit of the rifle corps—in the establishment of rifle clubs -for the practice of rifle-shooting as a recreation, with other out-door sports -and games; more especially if these can be encouraged, so as to become -general among that class of young men from which recruits are obtained -for the army. Whatever may have been said against too much faith being -placed in good marksmen, as the <i>only</i> essential attribute for our defenders, -most indisputably that army which, equally well regulated in other points, -shall be much superior generally in the art of rifle-shooting, will have an -enormous advantage over its opponent; and even in a greater degree than -is usually supposed.</p> - -<p class="pt">There is one class of volunteers, the formation of which will be attended -with unexceptionable advantages; and that is localized bodies on the coast -for service near their own homes. These may be either artillery or -infantry, or better still, both combined: that is, infantry accustomed to -exercise in the service of guns in battery. They will be always at their -homes, and at their habitual occupations, till the period of action shall arrive; -and a very few hours of occasional evening exercise will be sufficient, -particularly during peace time, to afford a basis of organization for -bodies which may be then rapidly made very efficient during war. As -their service will be chiefly in batteries, or in fortified posts—or if in -the open field, only in greatly superior numbers, and within confined -limits, to oppose desultory landings—they will not need the field equipment, -nor that refined knowledge and practice so necessary in every -part of an army in a campaign. Their dress may be of a plain description, -such as an artisan’s or gamekeeper’s jacket, and a foraging cap, which, -though of some uniform pattern, may be suitable for ordinary wear. By -such means, our coasts may be powerfully protected from any but very -formidable efforts against them, at the smallest expense and waste of -resources; and at the same time, these bodies will supply the place of -regular troops, for which they will form an efficient substitute.</p> - -<p class="pt">In advocating the expediency of rendering the volunteer system attractive -among the labouring classes, as, generally speaking, the most robust<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[Pg 83]</span> -and hardy portion of the population, we must not be considered as implying -any doubt of their thorough good feeling in the cause; it is absolutely -necessary to stimulate, by some substantial recompence or boon, the -exertions of those who are living, as it were, from hand to mouth, and -on the smallest means. The inducement may be very moderate; still -it should be such as to make the service in some degree popular and -advantageous, and cause men who may be rejected or discharged to feel -it as a punishment or misfortune.</p> - -<p class="pt">Whatever may be said in the way of general considerations affecting -the volunteer system, will admit of exceptions. Thus many of the difficulties -in the way of the efficiency of volunteer corps for service in the -field will be greatly lessened in the case of those which may be chiefly -composed of young men of active habits, and not yet settled in life: -such as university corps, who would, without doubt, display a degree of -hardihood, spirit, and intelligence not to be surpassed by any troops. -And so with regard to the local bodies. Such corps as the dockyard -volunteers, at all those great establishments, public and private, should be -replaced on an improved system;—a system which should avoid expense -and encroachment on a valuable part of their time, which were the failings -of their original organization, and occasioned their being broken up.</p> - -<p class="pt">The noble spirit which originated the volunteer movement is one of -which the nation may justly feel proud; it exhibits and fosters a patriotic -and military spirit in the country, which will render us more fit than any -other people to cope with a powerful enemy. The moral effect of this -national movement will influence other countries; it will dissipate the -erroneous idea that the English are only a trading, and not a warlike -people, and make them more cautious of attacking us.</p> - -<p class="pt">In actual service, the volunteers will be valuable behind works; thus -releasing a corresponding number of the regular troops from garrison -service: but it cannot be too strongly impressed upon them, that unless -they will submit to the necessary training as soldiers, and are complete in -organization as infantry, no general in the world will have any confidence -in them as a field force. The occasional embodiment of our volunteers at -some of the great camps, as before recommended, would appear the most -available means of training them for general service. It would also -have another good effect, by demonstrating to many who are now carried -away by their enthusiasm, how far they may be really calculated or -prepared for the necessary trials and sacrifices incidental upon taking the -field in the emergency. It will then be perceived by many that their -age, want of physical stamina, or inability to dispense with habitual -comforts which may be absolutely necessary to them, would render them -totally unequal to the task they would willingly undertake. It would be -far better that these should be weeded from the field corps of volunteers, -and not remain to give a false appearance of their strength for actual -service.</p> - -<p class="pt">Lastly, there may be some who, on reflection, must be aware that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[Pg 84]</span> -certain family ties, or private concerns, may imperatively forbid their -joining the service at the last moment, and it would be far better that -they should withdraw betimes from the engagement. For it should be -borne in mind that these bodies are <i>volunteers</i>, in the strictest sense of the -term; their presence or continuance in the field cannot be constrained. -The effort to bear all the trials and hardships of a campaign requires a -patience and endurance which will yield, even where there is thorough -ardour in the cause, and great personal courage, unless supported by -physical strength. The Volunteer Corps is a service in which the country -must trust entirely to the honour of the individuals composing it; and -certainly, those who shall stand the test will be peculiarly entitled to the -gratitude of the nation.</p> - -<p class="pt">But while deprecating the employment in the field of any volunteers -who are not hardy and trained soldiers, or who have households to protect -and business to attend to, we must not be supposed to recommend the -withdrawal from the ranks of all who are not available for actual service -with regular troops: far from it. There is not a man who has been -drilled as a volunteer but may be serviceable to the community in a -variety of ways at home, by supplying the place of regular soldiers in -mounting guard as sentries, acting as “orderlies” for transmitting orders -between the government officers and head-quarters, as assistants in the -hospital service, as extra clerks in the commissariat and other departments, -and in serving as a military police. Indeed good service might -be rendered to the country by gentlemen of character, ability, and intelligence, -sufficiently <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au fait</span></i> to the business of a soldier to execute with -military precision and promptitude such duties as would not involve any -greater amount of fatigue and exposure than a man of average health -and strength could sustain without injury: they would form a bodyguard, -composed of fathers of families and the younger and less robust of -the volunteers, for the protection of their homes and maintaining the -peace of cities and towns; and competent to fill offices of trust in connection -with the military and civil authorities. The country would thus derive the -full benefit of the services of every volunteer in the kingdom; and no man -who had entered the ranks but would have the satisfaction of knowing that -he was serving his Queen and Country in the most effective way.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="A_Man_of_Letters_of_the_Last_Generation">A Man of Letters of the Last Generation.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>There are fashions in books, as there are in the cut of clothes, or the -building of houses; and if from the great library of our race we take down -the representative volumes, we shall find that successive ages differ almost as -much as the several countries of the world. The one half of the century -scarcely knows what the other half has done, save through its lasting works, -among which books alone possess the gift of speech. Yet the guild of literature -properly knows no bounds of space or time. If the tricks of craft like -those of society belong to the passing day, literature has been, beyond all -other human influences, enduring and continuous in the main current of its -spirit; and each period has been the stronger if it has recognized so much -of its possessions as was inherited from its predecessor, including the -power to conquer more. A powerful sense of brotherhood clings to all the -veritable members of the fraternity, whose highest diploma is posthumous; -and we cannot see the lingering representatives of a past day depart, -without feeling that one of the great family has gone. A writer whom we -have lost in the year just closed peculiarly associated past and present, by -his own hopeful work for “progress” towards the future, and his affectionate -lingering with the past, and above all by the strong personal feeling which -he brought to his work. <span class="smcap">Leigh Hunt</span> belonged essentially to the earlier -portion of the nineteenth century; but, born in the year when Samuel -Johnson died, living among the old poets, and labouring to draw forth the -spirit which the first half has breathed into the latter half of the century, -he may be said to have been one of those true servitors of the library who -unite all ages with the one we live in. The representative man of a school -gone by, in his history we read the introduction to our own.</p> - -<p class="pt">Isaac, the father of Leigh Hunt, was the descendant of one of the oldest -settlers in luxurious Barbadoes. He was sent to develop better fortunes -by studying at college in Philadelphia, where he <i>un</i>settled in life; for, -having obtained some repute as an advocate, and married the daughter of -the stern merchant, Stephen Shewell, against her father’s pleasure, Isaac -contumaciously opposed the sovereign people by espousing the side of -royalty, and fled with broken fortunes to England. Here he found not -much royal gratitude, much popularity as a preacher in holy orders—taken -as a refuge from want,—but no preferment. With tutorships, and help -from relatives, he managed to rub on; he sent Leigh, the first of his sons -born in England, to the school of Christ Hospital, and he lived long -enough to see him an established writer. Isaac was a man rather under -than above the middle stature, fair in complexion, smoothly handsome, -so engaging in address as to be readily and undeservedly suspected of -insincerity, and in most things utterly unlike his son. His wife, Mary -Shewell, a tall, slender woman, with Quaker breeding, a dark thoughtful -complexion, a heart tender beyond the wont of the world, and a conscience<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[Pg 86]</span> -tenderer still, contributed more than the father to mould the habits and -feelings of the son. School and books did the rest. His earlier days, save -during the long semi-monastic confinement of the Blue-coat School, were -passed in uncertain alternations between the care-stricken home and the -more luxurious houses of wealthier relatives and friends. In his time -Christ Hospital was the very nursery for a scholarly scholar. It was -divided into the commercial, the nautical, and the grammar schools; in all, -the scholars had hard fare, and much church service; and in the grammar -school plenty of Greek and Latin. Leigh’s antecedents and school training -destined him for the church; a habit of stammering, which disappeared as -he grew up, was among the adverse accidents which reserved him for the -vocation to which he was born—Literature. But before he left the unsettled -roof of his parents, the youth had been to other schools besides -Christ Hospital. His father had been a royalist flying from infuriated -republicans, and doomed to learn in the metropolitan country the common -mistrust of kings. He left America a lawyer, to become a clergyman here; -and entered the pulpit a Church of England-man, to become, after the mild -example of his wife, a Universalist. Born after his mother had suffered -from the terrors of the revolution, and a severe attack of jaundice, Leigh -inherited an anxious, speculative temperament; to be the sport of unimaginative -brothers, who terrified him by personating the hideous “Mantichora,” -about which he had tremblingly read and talked, and of schoolfellows, -with their ghostly traditions and rough, summary, practical satire. -He had been made acquainted with poverty, yet familiarized to the sight -of ease and refined luxury. His father, if “socially” inclined, yet read -eloquently and critically; his mother read earnestly, piously, and charitably; -reading was the business of his school, reading was his recreation; -and at the age of fifteen, he threw off his blue coat, a tall stripling, with -West Indian blood, a Quaker conscience, and a fancy excited rather than -disciplined by his scholastic studies, to put on the lax costume of the day, -and be tried in the dubious ordeal of its laxer customs.</p> - -<p class="pt">His severest trial arose from the vanities, rather than the vices to -which such a youth would be exposed. He had already been sufficiently -“in love,”—now with the anonymous sister of a schoolfellow, next -with his fair cousin Fanny, then with the enchanting Almeria,—to be -shielded from the worst seductions that can beset a youth; and he was -early engaged to the lady whom he married in 1809. But the vanities -beset him in a shape of unwonted power. The stripling, whose essays the -terrible Boyer, of the Blue-coat School, had crumpled up, became the -popular young author of published poems, and not much later the stern -critic of the <i>News</i>, whose castigations made actors wince and playwrights -launch prologues at him. Thenceforward the vicissitudes of his life, save -in the inevitable vicissitudes of mortality, were professional rather than -personal; though he always threw his personality into his profession. He -tried a clerkship under his brother Stephen, an attorney; and a clerkship -in the War Office, under the patronage of the dignified Mr. Addington;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[Pg 87]</span> -but finally he left the desk, legal or official, for the desk literary, to devote -himself to the <i>Examiner</i>, set up in 1808 with his brother John. He went -to prison for two years in 1813, rather than forfeit his consistency as a -political writer. It was as a vindicator of liberal principles in politics, -sociology (word then unused), and art, that he attracted the friendship of -Byron and Shelley; it was to accomplish the literary speculation of the -<i>Liberal</i> that he set out for Italy in 1821; it was to study Italy and the -Italians, with a view to “improve” that and other “subjects,” that he -stopped in Italy till the autumn of 1825. He returned to England to try -his fortune with books in prose and verse, in periodicals of his own or -others’; and it was in the midst of unrelinquished work that he placidly -laid himself down to sleep in August, 1859,—his last words of anxiety -being for Italy and her enlarging hopes, his latest breath uttering inquiries -and messages of affection. This is essentially a literary life; but it is -given to a literature in which there <i>is</i> life,—for Leigh Hunt, although he -dwelled and passed his days in the library, was no “book-worm,” divorced -from human existence, its natural instincts and affections. On the contrary, -he carried into his study a large heart and a strong pulse; to him the books -spoke in the voice of his fellow-men, audible from the earliest ages, and -he loved to be followed into his retreat by friends from the outer world.</p> - -<p class="pt">Leigh Hunt certainly was not driven to this little-broken retirement -by the want of qualities which are attractive in society, or by the tastes -that render society attractive; but under the force of remarkable contradictions -in his character, he was often fain to waive what he desired and -could easily have—“letting <i>I would not</i> wait upon <i>I may</i>,” with an -apparent caprice most exasperating to the bystander. He professed readiness -for “whatever is going forward,” seemed eager to meet any approaching -pleasure; and then hung back with a coy, reluctant, anxious delay, that -forbore its own satisfaction altogether. Probably this apparent contradiction -may be traced to his origin and nurture. According to all -evidence respecting his immediate progenitors, he was little of a Hunt, -save in his gaiety and avowed love of “the pleasurable.” His natural -energy, which showed itself in a robust frame, a powerful voice, a great -capacity for endurance, and a strong will, seems to have been inherited -from Stephen Shewell, the stern, headstrong, and implacable. From the -Bickleys, possibly—the gallant Knight Banneret of King William’s Irish -wars will pardon the doubt—his mother transmitted her own material tendency -to an over-conscientious, reflective, hesitating temperament, which -drew back from any action not manifestly and imperatively dictated by duty. -The son showed all these contradictory traits even in his aspect and bearing.</p> - -<p class="pt">He was tall rather than otherwise,—five feet ten inches and a half -when measured for the St. James’s Volunteers; though, in common with -men whose length is in the body rather than the legs, his height diminished -as he advanced in life. He was remarkably straight and upright in his -carriage, with a short, firm step, and a cheerful, almost dashing approach,—smiling, -breathing, and making his voice heard in little inarticulate ejaculations<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[Pg 88]</span> -as he met a friend, in an irrepressible satisfaction at the encounter -that not unfrequently conveyed high gratification to the arriver who was -thus greeted. He had straight black hair, which he wore parted in the -centre; a dark but not pale complexion; features compounded between -length and a certain irregularity of outline, characteristic of the American -mould; black eyebrows, firmly marking the edge of a brow, over which -was a singularly upright, flat, white forehead, and under which beamed a -pair of eyes dark, brilliant, reflecting, gay, and kind, with a certain look of -observant humour, that suggested an idea of what is called slyness when it -is applied to children or girls; for he had <i>not</i> the aspect given to him in -one of his portraits, of which he said that “the fellow looked as if he had -stolen a tankard.” He had a head massive and tall, and larger than most -men’s,—Byron, Shelley, and Keats wore hats which he could not put on; -but it was not out of proportion to the figure, its outlines being peculiarly -smooth and devoid of “bumps.” His upper lip was long, his mouth large -and hard in the flesh; his chin retreating and gentle like a woman’s. His -sloping shoulders, not very wide, almost concealed the ample proportions -of his chest; though that was of a compass which not every pair of arms -could span. He looked like a man cut out for action,—a soldier; but he -shrank from physical contest, telling you that his sight was short, and that -he was “timid.” We shall understand that mistaken candour better when -we have examined his character a little further. Yet he did shrink from -using his vigorous faculties, even in many ways. Nature had gifted -him with an intense dramatic perception, an exquisite ear for music, and -a voice of extraordinary compass, power, flexibility, and beauty. It extended -from the C below the line to the F sharp above: there were no -“passages” that he could not execute; the quality was sweet, clear, and -ringing: he would equally have sung the music of <i>Don Giovanni</i> or -<i>Sarastro</i>, of <i>Oroveso</i> or <i>Maometto Secondo</i>. Yet nature had not endowed -him with some of the qualities needed for the practical musician,—he had -no aptitude for mechanical contrivance, but faint enjoyment of power for its -own sake. He dabbled on the pianoforte; delighted to repeat airs pleasing -or plaintive; and if he would occasionally fling himself into the audacious -revels of <i>Don Giovanni</i>, he preferred to be <i>Lindoro</i> or <i>Don Ottavio</i>; and -still more, by the help of his falsetto, to dally with the tender treble of the -<i>Countess</i> in <i>Figaro</i>, or <i>Polly</i> in <i>Beggars’ Opera</i>. This waiving of the potential, -this preference for the lightsome and tender, ran through all his character,—save -when duty bade him draw upon his sterner resources; and then -out came the inflexibility of the Shewell and the unyielding determination -of the Hunts. But as soon as the occasion passed, the manner passed with -it; and the man whose solemn, clear-voiced indignation had made the very -floor and walls vibrate was seen tenderly and blandly extenuating the -error of his persecutor and gaily confessing to a community of mistake.</p> - -<p class="pt">While he was yet at school, Hunt was pronounced by one of his schoolfellows -a “fool for refining”—that is, one who was a fool in his judgment -through a hair-splitting anxiety to be precise. A boy all his life, this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[Pg 89]</span> -leading foible of his boyhood attended him throughout. He has been -likened to Hamlet,—only it was a Hamlet who was not a prince, but a -hard-working man. The defect was increased in Leigh Hunt, as it -evidently was in the prince, by a certain imperfection in understanding, -appreciating, or thoroughly mastering the material, tangible, physical part -of nature. This, again, is inconsistent with his own account of himself, -but it will be confirmed by a close critical scrutiny of his writings. Over-sensitive, -he was exquisitely conscious of such physical perceptions as he -had. He was passionately fond of music, which he took to as we have seen. -He was keenly impressed by painting and by colours,—which he defined -with uncertainty, unless they were, what he liked them to be, very intense. -He revelled in the aspect of the country,—but needed literary, poetic, or -personal association, or habit, to help the appreciation of the landscape. -His animation, his striking appearance, his manly voice, its sweetness and -flexibility, the exhaustless fancy to which it gave utterance, his almost -breathlessly tender manner in saying tender things, his eyes deep, bright, -and genial, with a dash of cunning, his delicate yet emphatic homage,—all -made him a “dangerous” man among women;—and he shrank back -from the danger, the quickest to take alarm; confessing that “to err is -human,” as if he <i>had</i> erred in any but the most theoretical or imaginative -sense! Remind him of his practical virtue, and, to disprove your too -favourable construction, he would give you a sermon on the sins of the -fancy, hallowed by quotations from the Bible—of which he was as much -master as any clergyman—and illustrated by endless quotations from the -poets in all languages, with innumerable biographical anecdotes of the -said poets, to prove the fearful peril of the first step; and <i>also</i> to prove -that, though men, they were not bad men;—that it is not for us to cast -the first stone, and that, probably, if they had been different, their poetry -would have suffered, to the grievous loss of the library and mankind.</p> - -<p class="pt pb0">He inculcated the study of minor pleasures with so much industry, -that his writings have caused him to be taken for a minor voluptuary. -His special apparatus for the luxury consisted in some old cloak to put about -his shoulders when cold—which he allowed to slip off while reading or -writing; in a fire—“to toast his feet”—which he let out many times in -the day, with as many apologies to the servant for the trouble; and in a -bill of fare, which he preposterously restricted for a fancied delicacy of -stomach, and a fancied poison in everything agreeable, and which he could -scarcely taste for a natural dulness of palate. Unable to perceive the -smell of flowers, he habitually strove to imagine it. The Epicurean in -theory was something like a Stoic in practice; and he would break off an -“article” on the pleasures of feasting to ease his hunger, literally, with a -supper of bread; turning round to enjoy by proxy, on report, the daintier -food which he had provided for others. Eyeing the meat in another’s plate, -he would quote Peter Pindar—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“On my life, I could turn glutton,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On such pretty-looking mutton;”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[Pg 90]</span></p> -<p class="pa0">but would still, with the relish of Lazarillo de Tormes, stick to his own -“staff of life,” and quaff his water, jovially repeating after Armstrong, -“Nought like the simple element dilutes.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Now, most excellent reader, are you in something of a condition to -understand the man’s account of his own failings—his “improvidence” -and his “timidity.” He had no grasp of things material; but exaggerating -his own defects, he so hesitated at any arithmetical effort, that he could -scarcely count. He has been seen unable to find 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> in a drawer full of -half-crowns and shillings, since he could not see the “sixpence.” Hence his -stewardship was all performed by others. He laboured enormously,—making -fresh work out of everything he did; for he would not mention -anything, however parenthetically, without “verifying” it. Hence it is -true that he had scarcely time for stewardship, unless he had neglected -his work and wages as a master-workman. He saw nothing until it had -presented itself to him in a sort of literary, theoretical aspect, and hence -endowed his friends, all round, with fictitious characters founded on fact. -One was the thrifty housewife, another the steady man of business, a third -the poetic enthusiast—and so on. And he <i>acted</i> on these estimates, until -sometimes he found out his mistake, and confessed that he “had been -deceived.” The discovery was sometimes as imaginary as the original -estimate, and friends, whose sterling qualities he could not overrate, have -seen him, for the discovery of his mistake in regard to some fancied grace, -avert his eye in cold “disappointment.” He made the same supposititious -discoveries and estimates with himself. His mother had the jaundice -before he was born; he had unquestionably a tendency to bilious affections; -in the Greek poet’s account of Hercules and the Serpents, the more -timid, because mortal, child, who is aghast at the horrid visitors sent by -the relentless Juno, is called, as Leigh Hunt translated the oft-repeated -quotation, “the extremely bilious Iphiclus;” and being bilious, Leigh -Hunt set himself down as “timid.” He had probably felt his heart beat -at the approach of danger, been startled by a sudden noise, or hesitated -“to snuff a candle with his fingers,” which Charles the Fifth said would -make any man know fear. Yet he had braved persecution in the refusal -to fag at school; was an undaunted though not skilful rider; a swimmer -not unacquainted with drowning risks; undismayed, except for others, -when passing the roaring torrent at the broad ford,—when braving shipwreck -in the British Channel, or the thunder-hurricane in the Mediterranean; -he instantly confronted the rustic boors who challenged him on -the Thames, or in the Apennines, and stood unmoved to face the sentence -of a criminal court, though the sentence was to be the punishment he -most dreaded—the prison.</p> - -<p class="pt">Such was the character of the man who came from school to be the -critic, first of the drama, then of literature and politics; and then to be a -workman in the schools where he had criticized. He brought to his -labours great powers, often left latent, and used only in their superficial -action; a defective perception of the tangible part of the subject; an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[Pg 91]</span> -imagination active, but overrating its own share in the business; an impulsive -will, checked by an over-scrupulous, over-conscientious habit of -“refining;” a nice taste, and an overwhelming sympathy with every form -and aspect of human enjoyment, suffering, or aspiration. His public conduct, -his devotion to “truth,” whether in politics or art, won him admiration -and illustrious friendships. In a society of many severed circles he formed -one centre, around which were gathered Lamb, Ollier, Barnes, Mitchell, -Shelley, Keats, Byron, Hazlitt, Blanchard, Forster, Carlyle, and many more, -departed or still living; some of them centres of circles in which Leigh -Hunt was a wanderer, but all of them, in one degree or other, attesting -their substantial value for his character. They influenced him, he influenced -them, and through them the literature and politics of the century, -more largely, perhaps, than any one of them alone. Let us see, then, -what it was that he did.</p> - -<p class="pt">Even in the <i>News</i> of 1805, when he was barely of age, and when he -wrote with the dashing confidence of a youth wielding the combined ideas -of Sam Johnson and Voltaire, the “damned boy,” as Kemble called him, -established a repute for cultivation, consistency, taste, and independence; -and he originated a style of contemporary criticism unknown to the newspaper -press. In other words, he brought the standards of criticism which -had before been confined to the lecture of academies or the library, into -the daily literature which aids in shaping men’s judgments as they rise.</p> - -<p class="pt">We have seen how, under a name borrowed from the Tory party, the -<i>Examiner</i> was established, with little premeditation, a literary ambition, and -the hope of realizing a modest wage for the work done. It found literature, -poetry especially, sunk to the feeblest, tamest, and most artificial of graces,—the -reaction upon the long-felt influence left by the debauchery of -the Stuarts and the vulgarer coarseness of the early Georges. It found -English monarchs and statesmen again forgetting the great lessons of the -British constitution, with the press slavishly acquiescing. In 1808, an -Irish Major had a “case” against the Horse Guards, of most corrupt and -illicit favouritism: the <i>Examiner</i> published the case, and sustained it. In -1809, a change of ministry was announced: the <i>Examiner</i> hailed “the -crowd of blessings that might be involved in such a change;” adding, “Of -all monarchs, indeed, since the Revolution, the successor of George the -Third will have the finest opportunity of becoming nobly popular.” In -1812, on St. Patrick’s day, a loyal band of guests significantly abstained -from paying the usual courtesy to the toast of the Prince Regent, and -coughed down Mr. Sheridan, who tried to speak up for his royal and -forgetful friend. A writer in a morning paper supplied the omitted homage -in a poem more ludicrous for its wretched verse than for the fulsome strain -in which it called the Prince the “Protector of the Arts,” the “Mæcenas -of the Age,” the “Glory of the People,” a “Great Prince,” attended by -Pleasure, Honour, Virtue, Truth, and other illustrious vassals. The -<i>Examiner</i> showed up this folly by simply turning it into English, and in -plain language describing the position and popular estimate of the Prince.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[Pg 92]</span> -For all these various acts the <i>Examiner</i> was prosecuted, with various -fortunes; but in the last case it was fined 1,000<i>l.</i>, and its editor and -publisher, the brothers Leigh and John Hunt, were sentenced to two -years’ imprisonment. The <i>Examiner</i> was no extravagant or violent -paper; its writing was pretty nearly of the standard that would be required -now for style, tone, and sentiment; but what would now be a matter -of course in cultivated style, elevated tone, and independent sentiment, -was then supposed to be not open to writers unprotected by privilege -of Parliament. Not that the paper stood alone. Other writers, both in -town and country, vied with it in independence; it excelled chiefly, -perhaps, in the literary finish which Leigh Hunt imparted to journalism; -but it was the more conspicuous for that finish. Its boldness won it high -esteem. Offers came from “distinguished” quarters, on the one side, to bribe -its silence for the Royal Horse Guards and its peccadilloes; on the other, to -supply the proprietors with subscription, support, and retaliatory evidence. -The <i>Examiner</i> equally declined all encroachments on its complete independence, -which was carried to a pitch of exclusiveness. This conduct -told. The journal was thought dangerous to the régime—it was prosecuted, -and its success was only the greater. The Court ceased to be what -it had been, and the political system changed: the press of England -became generally what the <i>Examiner</i> was.</p> - -<p class="pt">The <i>Reflector</i> was a quarterly journal, based on the <i>Examiner</i> and its -corps. Its more literary portion in its turn laid the basis for the <i>Indicator</i>, -in which Leigh Hunt designed, with due deference, to revive the essays of the -old <i>Spectator</i> and <i>Tatler</i>. The grand distinction was, that in lieu of mere -literary recreation, like the illustrious work of Addison, Steele, and Swift, -it more directly proposed to <i>indicate</i> the sources of pleasurable association -and æsthetical improvement. In the <i>Reflector</i>, the <i>Indicator</i>, <i>Tatler</i>, and -subsequent works of the same class, Leigh Hunt was assisted by Lamb, -Barnes [afterwards editor of the <i>Times</i>], Aikin, Mitchell [Aristophanes], -Keats, Shelley, Hazlitt, and Egerton Webbe,—the last cut short in a career -rendered certain by his accomplishments, his music, his wit, and his extraordinary -command of language as an instrument of thought. As in Robin -Hood’s band, each man could beat his master at some one art, or perhaps -more; but none excelled him in telling short stories, with a simplicity, a -pathos, and a force that had their prototype less in the tales of Steele and -Addison, than in the romantic poets of Italy. Few essayists have equalled, -or approached, Leigh Hunt in the combined versatility, invention, -and finish of his miscellaneous prose writings; and few, indeed, have -brought such varied sympathies to call forth the sympathies of the -reader—and always to good purpose,—in favour of kindness, of reflection, -of natural pleasures, of culture, and of using the available resources of -life. He used to boast that the <i>Indicator</i> laid the foundation for the “two-penny -trash” which assumed a more practical and widely popular form -under Charles Knight’s enterprise. It has had a host of imitators, but is -still special, and keeps its place in the library.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[Pg 93]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">Of his one novel, <i>Sir Ralph Esher</i>, suffice it to say, that he had desired -to make it a sort of historical literary essay,—a species of unconcealed -forgery, after the manner of a more cultivated and critical Pepys; and that -the bookseller persuaded him to make it a novel:—of his dramatic works,—although -he had an ambition to be counted among British dramatists, and -had a discriminating dramatic taste,—that he combined, with the imperfect -grasp of the tangible, a positive indifference to dramatic literature. The -dramatic work which is reputed to be the most interesting of his compositions -in this style, the <i>Prince’s Marriage</i>, is still unacted and unpublished.</p> - -<p class="pt pb0">But in regard to the veritable British Parnassus, he had solid work to -do, and he did it. Poetry amongst us had sunk to the lowest grade. Leigh -Hunt found the mild Hayley, and the mechanical Darwin, occupying the -field, Pope the accredited model, and he revolted against the copybook -versification, the complacent subserviency and mean moralities of the -muse in possession. He had read earnestly and extensively in the classics, -ancient and English; he carried with him to prison the <i>Parnaso Italiano</i>, -a fine collection of Italian poetical writers, in fifty-two volumes; and he -was deeply imbued with the spirit which he found common to the poetical -republic of all ages. He selected the episode of Paolo and Francesca, -whom Dante places in the <i>Inferno</i>, and whose history was diligently hunted -up to tell in the <i>Story of Rimini</i>. In it Leigh Hunt insisted on breaking -the set cadence for which Pope was the professed authority, as he broke -through the set morals which had followed in reaction upon the licence of -many reigns. He shocked the world with colloquialisms in the heroic -measure, and with extenuations of the fault committed by the two lovers -against the law matrimonial. The offence, too, was perpetrated by a writer -condemned to prison for bearding the constituted authorities. The poem -and its fate were characteristic of the man and his position in poetical -literature. The work was designed as a picture of Italy, and a tale of the -natural affections rebelling against a tyranny more corrupt than the licence -which it claimed to check. But when he wrote it, the poet had not been -in Italy; and afterwards, with habitual anxiety to be “right,” he corrected -many mistakes in the scenery—such as “the smoke goes dancing from the -cottage trees,” where there are no such cottages as he imagined, and smoke -is no feature in the landscape. He also restored the true historical conclusion, -and instead of a gentlemanly duel, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">comme il faut</span></i>, made the tale -end in the fierce double murder by the husband. In its original shape, -the <i>Story of Rimini</i> touched many a heart, and created more sensation for -its bolder verse and nature than others which followed it; in its amended -form it gained in truth to art and fact, and in force of verse and colouring. -Leigh Hunt had not the sustained melody and pulpit morals of the Lake -School; but he gave the example and encouragement to writers of still -greater force and beauty. He vindicated human right against official -wrong, and suffered imprisonment, and denunciation more bitter than that -poured on Shelley, whose political vindications burst forth with such a -torrent of eloquence and imagination in the <i>Revolt of Islam</i>. Leigh Hunt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[Pg 94]</span> -asserted the beauty of natural passion,—but he did it tenderly and -obliquely, himself returning from the slightest taste of passion to “the -domesticities,” half begging pardon for his hardihood, and thus by implication -confessing his naughtiness; and all the while hinting at the delicate -subject of his tale by circumstance, rather than following it to its full -inspirations. The greater part of the <i>Story of Rimini</i> is scene-painting, as -if it were told by some bystander in the street, or some topographical -visitor of the place. In the scene where the lovers so dangerously and -fatally fall to reading “Launcelot of the Lake,”—“<i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">quel giorno non legemmo -più avanti</span></i>”—the larger portion of the canto is devoted to a description of -the garden. Leigh Hunt does not, as Keats did, describe the sickening -passion that gave the <i>Lamia</i> so ghastly a sense of her own hated form,—nor -does he, as in the <i>Lamia</i>, pursue the couple to the place where Love</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Hover’d and buzz’d his wings with fearful roar</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Above the lintel of their chamber door.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="pa0">If pharisaical critics discovered objectionable “tendencies” in passages—almost -in the <i>omitted</i> passages of his writings—they could find no such impetuous -and sublime argument as that to which the <i>Revolt of Islam</i> rises -in the canto where “the meteor to its far morass returned;” nor such -lines as show that a fair authoress, whose book has been “the rage” at -Mudie’s, had been among the myriads of Shelley’s readers. But although -hesitating himself to plunge into the impetuous torrent of passion, like -the fowl mistrustful of its own fitness for so stormy waters, Leigh Hunt -was the friend, instigator, and encourager of that rebellion of letters which -in the earlier half of our age produced Keats and Shelley, and the poetical -literature of the latter half of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p class="pt">Others improved upon the example, no doubt, and bore away the -“<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">honores</span></i>.” At a late day, Lord John Russell obtained for Leigh Hunt a -royal pension of £200 a year—a most welcome and gratefully acknowledged -compensation of time and money torn from him in early years.</p> - -<p class="pt">Leigh Hunt’s miscellaneous poems extend over a great variety of -subjects, from the classic legend of <i>Hero and Leander</i>, to the mediæval -fabliau of the <i>Gentle Armour</i>, and the satirical critique of the <i>Feast of the -Poets</i>. This last was published early in the author’s maturer career; it is -“in his second manner,” and he afterwards revised many of the dicta on -contemporary writers which he placed in the mouth of the chairman on -that festive occasion, Apollo. But it helped to loosen the trammels of -conventionalism in verse. The <i>Gentle Armour</i>, although true to a modern -refinement, is also true to the spirit of the days of chivalry; it relates, in -straightforward language, how a knight who had refused the bidding of -his mistress to defend a falsehood—not her own—is punished by receiving -the most feminine of garments as his cognizance at a tournament; and -how, wearing that <i>alone</i>, he takes in his own person a bloody and -reproving vengeance for the slight, in the end winning both fight and lady. -The subject was thought “indelicate” by some who were less refined than -the author—some descendants, perchance, of the proverbial Peeping Tom.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[Pg 95]</span> -The <i>Hero and Leander</i> is a flowing and vivid recital of the ancient tale. -The three works form good specimens of the spirit as well as execution of -Leigh Hunt’s poetical writings. Of some of his smaller pieces it may be -said that they had become classic in his lifetime—such as the reverential -sonnet “On the Lock of Milton’s Hair” which he possessed; the exquisite -parental tenderness of the lines “To T. L. H., in Sickness;” and the -grandly Christian exaltation of charity in his <i>Abou-ben-Adhem</i>.</p> - -<p class="pt">As few men brought their personality more thoroughly into their -writings, so few men, out of the bookworm pale aforesaid, were more -thoroughly saturated with literature. He saw everything through books, -or saw it dimly. Speaking of his return from Italy, he writes:—“I -seemed more at home in England, even with Arcadian idealisms, than I -had been in the land nearer their birthplace; for it was in England I first -found them in books, and with England even my Italian books were more -associated than with Italy itself.” And speaking of the <i>Parnaso Italiano</i>, -he goes on:—“This book aided Spenser himself in filling my English -walks with visions of gods and nymphs,—of enchantresses and magicians; -for the reader might be surprised to know to what a literal extent such -was the case.” He used to “envy” the “household waggon that one -meets with in sequestered lanes” for its wanderings, but was daunted at -the bare imagination of “parish objections” and raffish society; and so -he ever recurred to “the stationary domesticities.” He failed in practical -life, because he was not guided in it by literature. He could only -apprehend so much of it as he found in the cyclopædia. On the other -hand, he could render all that literature could give. His memory was -marvellous; and to try him in history, biography, bibliography, or topography, -was to draw forth an oral “article” on the topic in question. -Ask him where was the Ouse, and he would tell you of all the rivers so -called; what were the books on a given subject, and you had the list; -“who was Colonel O’Kelly?” and you had a sketch of the colonel, of the -horse “Eclipse,” of Epsom, and of horse-racing in general, as distinguished -from the racing of the ancients or the modern riderless races of Italy—where, -as in Florence, may still be seen a specimen of the biga sweeping -round the meta “<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">fervidis evitata rotis</span></i>.” His conversation was an -exhaustless <i>Curiosities of Literature</i>. The delighted visitor <i>read</i> his host,—but -it was from a talking book, with cordial voice naturally pitched to -every change of subject, animated gesture, sparkling eyes, and overflowing -sympathy. In society Leigh Hunt was ever the perfect gentleman, not in -the fashion, but always the scholar and the noble-minded man. But his -diffidence was disguised, rather than removed, by his desire to agree with -those around him, and to fall in with the humour of the hour. He was -better known to his reader, either in his books, or, best of all, in his home, -where familiarity tested his unfailing courtesy, daily intercourse brought -forth the persevering goodness of his heart and conscience, and poverty did -but fetch out the thorough-going generosity that not only “<i>would</i> share,” -but did share the last crust.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="The_Search_for_Sir_John_Franklin">The Search for Sir John Franklin.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="motto">(FROM THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF AN OFFICER OF THE “FOX”)</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p>The last of the Government expeditions in search of Franklin returned in -1854, without bringing further intelligence than had been previously -ascertained, namely, that the missing ships had spent their first winter, -1845-46, at Beechey Island, and had departed thence without leaving a -single record to say whence they came or in what direction they intended -to explore in the following season.</p> - -<p class="pt">The war with Russia engrossed the public attention, and the Admiralty -determined that nothing more could be done for our missing sailors.</p> - -<p class="pt">Franklin and his companions were pronounced to be dead, and the -search to be closed. But many Arctic officers and private persons -thought otherwise. By the extraordinary exertions of the previous expeditions -the country to be searched had been reduced to a limited area in -which the ships must be, if above water, and through which the crews -must have travelled when they left their ships. Every other retreat from -the Arctic Seas had been explored, and the Great Fish River alone -remained unexamined.</p> - -<p class="pt">Later in the same year (1854), Dr. Rae, the celebrated traveller for -the Hudson Bay Company, who was endeavouring to ascertain the northern -extreme of America, brought home intelligence, which he had obtained -from the Esquimaux of Boothia, of forty white people having been seen -upon the west coast of King William Land in the spring of 1850: that -they were travelling southward, and that later in the same year it was -supposed they had all died in the estuary of a large river, which Dr. Rae -conjectured to be the Great Fish River.</p> - -<p class="pt">In 1855, the Hudson Bay Company, at the request of the Admiralty, -sent an expedition, conducted by Mr. Anderson, to explore the Fish -River. Mr. Anderson returned, having ascertained that a portion of the -missing crews had been on Montreal Island, in the mouth of that river; -but Mr. Anderson, without an interpreter, or the means of going beyond -the island, could only gather the most meagre information by signs from -the Esquimaux, and by a few relics found upon the land. Where the -ships had been left, or what had become of the people, seemed as great a -mystery as ever.</p> - -<p class="pt">It was then that Lady Franklin (who had already sent out three expeditions) -urged again that the search should be continued, and that our -countrymen should not thus be left to their fate; but although her appeal -was backed by the most competent officers, the season of 1856 passed -away without endeavours to clear up the mystery; and determining -that another year should not be lost in vain entreaties, Lady Franklin once -more undertook the responsibilities and the expenses of a final effort to -rescue our long-lost sailors from their perhaps living death among the -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[Pg 97]</span>Esquimaux, or to follow up their footsteps in their last journey upon earth, -and to give to the world the scientific results of the expedition for which -those gallant men had given up their lives.</p> - -<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<a rel="nofollow" href="images/i_096a2_b.jpg"> -<img class="img100" src="images/i_096a2.jpg" alt="DEPARTURE OF EXPLORING PARTIES FROM PORT KENNEDY" /> -</a> -</div> - -<div class="hidescreen"> -<img class="img100" src="images/i_096a2.jpg" alt="DEPARTURE OF EXPLORING PARTIES FROM PORT KENNEDY" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt">In the spring of 1857 Lady Franklin commenced preparations for the -contemplated expedition. She was supported by some of the most distinguished -Arctic officers and scientific men, and the friends of Sir John -Franklin, among whom were Sir Roderick Murchison, General Sabine, -Captain Collinson, and many others.</p> - -<p class="pt">To Captain M‘Clintock was offered the command; and he who had -served in three previous expeditions, and to whom are principally due the -results of the extraordinary journeys over the ice that have been made -during the search for Franklin, cheerfully accepted the appointment, as, -in his own words, being the post of honour.</p> - -<p class="pt">The next thing was to seek a suitable vessel, and fortunately the <i>Fox</i> -was in the market. Built for a yacht of some 180 tons register, with -auxiliary steam-power applied to a lifting screw, the <i>Fox</i> appeared in -every way adapted for the service. She was at once purchased, and -the necessary alterations and fortifying commenced; and such was the -feeling of confidence in Captain M‘Clintock’s sincerity of purpose, his -daring and determination, combined with eminent talent, and every qualification -for command, that numbers sought the honour of serving with -him. The few who were so fortunate as to be selected were soon appointed -in their different capacities, and by the exertions of Lady Franklin and -Captain M‘Clintock everything that could possibly conduce to the comfort -or recreation of the ship’s company was supplied, and the <i>Fox</i> was ready -for sea by the end of June.</p> - -<p class="pt">We intended first to touch at some of the Danish settlements in Greenland, -to purchase sledge-dogs; then to proceed to Beechey Island, and -there to fill up stores from the depôt left by Sir E. Belcher. We were -next to endeavour to sail down Peel Sound (supposed to be a strait), but -failing by that channel, to try down Regent’s Inlet, and by the supposed -Bellot Straits to reach the neighbourhood of the Great Fish River; and -having in the summer of 1857 and following spring searched the adjacent -country, we should return home either westward by Behring’s Straits, or -by our outward route, according to circumstances. If we failed to reach -King William Land or the Fish River, it was our intention to winter as -near the desired position as possible, and by means of sledge journeys over -the ice, to complete the search in the following spring. We hoped to -finish the work in one year; but in this we were to be disappointed, as -the narrative will show.</p> - -<p class="pt">We left Aberdeen on July 1, 1857; and after a favourable run across -the Atlantic, we made our first acquaintance with the Arctic Seas when -near the meridian of Cape Farewell, by falling in with the drift-wood -annually brought from Arctic Asia by the great current known as the -Spitzbergen current—the shattered and mangled state of these pine logs -bearing evidence of their long water-and-ice-borne drift. This great<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[Pg 98]</span> -Arctic current brings masses of ice from the Spitzbergen seas, at seasons -completely filling up the fiords, harbours, and indentations on the south -coast of Greenland, and often in a pack extending for 100 miles southward -of Cape Farewell. A whole fleet of whale ships were, in June, 1777, -beset in lat. 76° north, and nearly in the meridian of Spitzbergen, and were -drifted southward by the current, until one by one they were crushed. -The last and only surviving ship arrived in October, in latitude 61°, in -Davis’ Straits, and the crew escaped to the land near Cape Farewell, 116 -in number, out of 450 men, who only a few short months before were -looking forward to a happy return to their homes.</p> - -<p class="pt">Late in the summer, the weather mild and the nights short, and with -steam-power at command, we had no occasion for much anxiety about this -ice, but determined to push direct for Frederickshaab, and with a fair wind -we steered to pass within sight of Cape Farewell. On the night of the -13th July, we were becalmed, and on the following day we steamed -slowly to the north-westward, amidst countless numbers of sea-birds. At -daylight the coast of Greenland showed out in all its wild magnificence. -Cape Farewell bore north 45° east, distant twenty-five miles; but from -the peculiar formation of the adjacent land the actual cape is difficult to -distinguish. Hitherto we had not seen the Spitzbergen ice; and we hoped -that we might follow the coast round to Frederickshaab without obstruction; -but in the course of the forenoon a sudden fall in the temperature of the sea, -with a haziness in the atmosphere to the northward, indicated our approach -to ice. Straggling and water-washed pieces were soon met with, and in -the evening the distant murmur of the sea, as it broke upon the edge of -ice-floes, warned us of our being near to a pack.</p> - -<p class="pt">We made but little progress during the two following days, the winds -being from the northward, and a dense ice-fog rolling down from the pack. -On the 17th, Frederickshaab bearing N. 28° E., distant fifty miles, we determined -upon endeavouring to push through the pack; and after being at -times completely beset, and with a constant thick fog, we escaped into the -inshore water, with a few slight rubs, having been carried by the drifting -body of ice nearly thirty miles northward of our port. We sounded upon -the Tallert bank; and on the fog lifting, the great glacier of Frederickshaab -was revealed to us, and we bore away for the harbour, which we reached -on the 19th. We had a little difficulty at first in making out the entrance -to Frederickshaab; but a native kyack coming out to meet us, we were -soon escorted in by a fleet of these small canoes.</p> - -<p class="pt">We found the natives busily breaking up the wreck of an abandoned -timber ship, which had drifted to their harbour, with a few of the lower -tiers of cargo still in her; and another wreck was said to be lying upon -the Tallert bank—the same wreck, it is said, which Prince Napoleon had -boarded on his homeward passage in the <i>Atlantic</i> the previous year, and had -left a record on her to prove the currents round Cape Farewell.</p> - -<p class="pt">The Danish authorities, ever ready to assist vessels entering the Greenland -ports, supplied us with everything in their power, and after purchasing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[Pg 99]</span> -some cod-fish from the natives, we proceeded on our voyage. On -leaving Frederickshaab, we experienced strong north winds, and had to -beat up between the pack and the land, until off the settlement of Fiskernaas, -on July 23rd. The temperature of the sea then rose from 35° -to 46° Fahrenheit; and seeing no ice, we considered that we were past -the limits of the Spitzbergen stream. Finding that our foretop masthead -was sprung, we ran into Fiskernaas, to repair it. We purchased -more cod-fish at Fiskernaas, at an almost nominal price. These fish are very -plentiful, and the Danish authorities annually collect about 30,000 from -the Esquimaux, to be dried, and again served out to them in the winter, -the habits of the natives being so improvident, that they will not make -this provision for themselves. Having made a few magnetic and other -observations, we sailed for Godhaab to procure a passage home for one of -our seamen, who, it was feared, was too ill in health to stand the rigours -of an Arctic winter. We met the Danish schooner coming out, and the -captain kindly received our invalid on board, and took our letters for -home. Outside Godhaab lie the Koku Islands, upon which Egede first -landed in 1721, and commenced recolonizing Greenland. The mainland -here is divided into four fiords, the largest being Godhaab Fiord (or Baal’s -River on old charts), which extends up to the inland ice, and upon the -shores of which are still to be seen many ruins of the ancient Scandinavians. -Upon the Koku Islands we were near leaving the <i>Fox</i>, for in -coming out, the wind fell suddenly calm, and the steam being down, we -were drifting with a strong tide fast upon the rocks, and we only just -towed the ship clear with all our boats. We now steered for Diskoe, -and after passing some magnificent icebergs, one of which we found by -measurement to be 270 feet above the sea, we saw the precipitous cliffs -of the island, entered the harbour of Godhavn at night, and sailed on the -following day for the beautiful fiord of Diskoe, where a smart young -Esquimaux, Christian, by name, was received on board, as dog-driver to -the expedition. We had not time to examine this fine fiord, which has -never been explored, and which is thought to be of great extent; nor had -we time to visit the Salmon River; but our guide brought us a few fish, -and with salmon-trout and ptarmigan for breakfast, and a bouquet of -flowers from the ladies of Godhavn upon the gun-room table, we had no -cause to complain of the Arctic regions so far.</p> - -<p class="pt">We next steered for the Waigat Straits, intending to take in coals -from the mines there. As we passed Godhavn, the Esquimaux guide seated -himself in his kyack on the deck, and, notwithstanding a rough sea, he -was launched out of the gangway at his own request; a feat wonderful to -us, but evidently not strange to him, as he paddled away to the shore -without further notice. The native kyack is so small and crank, that the -natives cannot get in or out of it alongside a ship; but are generally pulled -up or lowered with it in the bight of two ropes’ ends.</p> - -<p class="pt">As we approached the Waigat, thousands of eider ducks covered the -water, and we shot many of the younger ones, but the old birds were too<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[Pg 100]</span> -crafty for us, and kept out of range. We now never lost an opportunity -of adding to our stock of fresh provisions, which already began to make -a show in the rigging, where we could feast our eyes upon salmon, eider -ducks, looms, cod-fish, ptarmigan, and seal beef, besides two old goats, -that we had purchased at Frederickshaab. We entered the Waigat on -August 3rd, on a beautiful day; and for wild and desolate grandeur, I -suppose these straits have no equal—lofty, rugged mountains here abruptly -facing the sea, or there presenting a sloping moss-covered declivity—mountain -torrents, and the small streams, which, leaping over the very -summits, at an elevation of 3,000 to 4,000 feet, appear from beneath like -threads of spun glass. In some places may be seen the foot of a glacier -high up a ravine, as if there arrested in its course, or not yet grown sufficiently -to fill up the valley, and bring its blight down to the sea; in -other places beautiful valleys, green and grass-clothed, where the hare -and ptarmigan love to pass their short summer with their young broods. -The sea itself is scarcely less picturesque than the land; for thousands -of icebergs, of every size and fantastic form, cast off from the ice-streams -of the mainland, sail continually in these beautiful straits.</p> - -<p class="pt">We found the coal mine without difficulty, the seams of coal cropping -out of the cliffs under which we anchored. It was a very exposed position, -and the ground hard; the only safe way to lie would be by making fast to -a piece of grounded ice, if one can be found, as anchors will not hold.</p> - -<p class="pt">In the early spring the ice-foot forms a natural wharf, and the coals may -be collected, and at high water the boats can go alongside to receive the -sacks. Now that steam has been introduced into the whale fishery, these -coal mines must sooner or later become much frequented, and it is to be -hoped that so valuable a resource will be taken advantage of. If moorings -could be laid down, and natives from the opposite settlement of Atenadluk -employed to collect coals in readiness for embarkation, a ship might readily -fill up in a few hours.</p> - -<p class="pt">We had scarcely completed our coaling, when the weather began to -threaten, the barometer fell, and shortly after noon it blew almost a gale -from the southward. Our anchors soon began to jump over the ground, -and the drift ice to set in. Steam was immediately got ready, and we -ran through the straits to the north-westward. Passing the magnificent -headland of Swarten Huk, we touched at the settlement of Proven to -purchase dogs and seal-beef, and then bore away for Upernavik, steering -close along the coast, and intending to attack the breeding-place of looms, -at Saunderson’s Hope; but a strong south-west wind and high sea prevented -our sending in the boats. Arrived off Upernavik, we obtained -more dogs, and having left our last letters for home, we bore away, on -the afternoon of August 6, to try to cross Baffin’s Bay.</p> - -<p class="pt">We were now fairly away from the civilized world, and all that we -could look forward to, or hope for, was a speedy passage through the -middle pack of Baffin’s Bay, a satisfactory finish of the work before us on -the other side, and a return the following year to England. We had a fine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[Pg 101]</span> -ship and a fine crew, all eager to commence the more active duties of -sledge travelling; and, indeed, on looking at our thirty large and ravenous -dogs that crowded our decks, we could not but think that our sledge parties -would solve, in the following spring, the extraordinary mystery of Franklin’s -fate. How these hopes were to be disappointed that year the sequel -will show. It is well for us that we cannot know what the morrow may -bring forth. During August 7 and 8, we steered out due west from -Upernavik to try to cross in that parallel of latitude; but on the evening of -the latter day, the keenness of the air, the ice-blink ahead, and the fast -increasing number of bergs, prepared us for seeing the Middle Pack. In -the evening and during that night we passed streams of loose sailing ice, -and on the morning of the 8th further progress was stopped by impenetrable -floes. This was in lat. 72° 40′ north, long. 59° 50′ west.</p> - -<p class="pt">Getting clear of the loose ice in the pack edge, we steered to the northward, -to look for an opening in any place where we could attempt a passage. -The ice, however, presented an impenetrable line, and having reached, on -August 12, latitude 75° 10′ north, longitude 58° west, we made fast to an -iceberg aground under the glacier. It was a lovely evening; the sky -bright and clear, and the thermometer standing at 36° in the shade. Seals -were playing about the ship, and we added to our stock of beef. But a -dreary prospect rather damped our pleasure. The ice extended in one -unbroken mass right into the land, and pressed hard upon the very coast; -not a drop of water could be seen from the masthead, in the direction in -which we desired to go. The southerly winds, before which we had been -running, appeared to have driven the whole pack into the head of Melville -Bay. The season was passing away, and without an early change to wind -and a continuance of it from the northward, we were almost without a hope.</p> - -<p class="pt">In the evening we visited the glacier, but the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">débris</span></i> of shattered ice, -and the innumerable bergs and floe pieces, prevented our getting close to -its base. It was a beautifully calm night; not a sound to be heard, save -the crashing of some enormous mass rent from the face of the glacier, or -distant rumbling of the vast inland ice, as it moved slowly down towards -the sea. Far away over the continent, nothing but the surface of glacier -could be seen, excepting here or there a mountain peak, showing up through -the ice; and the bright glare of the ice-blink shot up into the sky, giving -a yellow tinge to the otherwise deep blue vault of heaven. Flights of ducks -winged their way to the southward, reminding us that it was the season -when those desolate regions were deserted, and that we should be left alone. -Our distant ship was lying so surrounded with huge and lofty bergs, that -only her masthead could be seen through an opening; and a low melancholy -howling (such as an Esquimaux dog alone knows how to make) -occasionally broke upon the ear—for our dogs had all gone up to the very -top of a lofty berg, and were thus expressing their home-sick longings, -and, perhaps, a foreboding of the unhappy fate that awaited many of them.</p> - -<p class="pt">We lay secured to the iceberg until the 16th August, when the wind -changed to the north-eastward, and the floes began to move off the land<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[Pg 102]</span> -and to separate. Now or never were we to get through; for to lose this -opportunity would have shut us out from crossing that year, and have -left us no other resource than to return to Greenland for the winter. -M‘Clintock was not the man to turn back from his work, but would rather -risk everything than leave a chance of our thus passing an inactive winter. -The <i>Fox</i> was therefore steered into a promising lead or lane of water, and -all sail made to the breeze. We were in high spirits, and talked of -getting into the west water on the morrow. But at night a dense fog came -on, the wind shifted to the southward, and the floes again began to close -upon and around us. There was no help for us—we were beset, and it -appeared hopelessly so; for the season was fast passing away, and the new -ice beginning to form. On the 17th the wind increased, and the weather -was dark and dreary. We struggled on for a few ship’s lengths by the -power of steam and canvas, and at night we unshipped the rudder, and -lifted the screw, in anticipation of a squeeze.</p> - -<p class="pt">During the three weeks following we lay in this position, endeavouring, -by every means, to move the ship towards any visible pool or lane of water. -Once only did our hopes revive. On September 7, the wind had again been -from the north-westward; the ice had slackened, and we made a final and -desperate attempt to reach some water seen to the northward of us. We -were blasting with gunpowder, heaving, and warping during the whole -day, but at night the floes again closed. We had not now even a retreat; -the tinker had come round, as the seamen say, and soldered us in; -and from that time until the 17th of April, 1858, we never moved, -excepting at the mercy of the ice, and drifted by the winds and -currents. We had lost all command over the ship, and were freezing in -the moving pack.</p> - -<p class="pt">Preparations for the winter were now made in earnest. We had thirty -large dogs to feed besides ourselves, and we lost no opportunity of shooting -seals. The sea-birds had all left for the southward; and the bears, which -occasionally came to look at the ship, we could not chase, from the yet -broken state of the ice. Provisions were got up upon deck, sledges and -travelling equipages prepared, boats’ crews told off, and every arrangement -made by the Captain in the event of our being turned out of the ship. As the -winter advanced, the ship was housed over with canvas, and covered with -snow; and we had made up our minds for a winter in the pack and a drift—whither? -This we could not tell, but we argued from the known constant -set to the southward, out of Baffin’s Sea and Davis’ Straits, that if our -little ship survived through the winter, we should be released in the -southern part of Davis’ Straits during the following summer.</p> - -<p class="pt">We were then in latitude 75° 24′ north, longitude 64° 31′ west, and -westward of us could be seen a formidable line of grounded bergs, towards -which, by our observations, we were driving. Our next eight months were -passed in a manner that would be neither interesting to read nor to relate; -but a few extracts from a private journal will show our mode of life.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>Sept. 16.</i>—We passed the grounded bergs last night, after considerable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[Pg 103]</span> -anxiety, for we feared we might be driven against them. We saw the floes -opening and tearing up as sod before the plough; and had we come in -contact with them, the ship must have been instantly destroyed. We are -out all day long, by the sides of the water-pools, with our rifles, and shoot -the seals in the head when they come up to breathe; they are now getting -fat, and do not sink so readily as in the summer.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>Oct. 17.</i>—We obtained good observations, and found that we have -drifted north-west 65 miles, since the 15th inst. It has been blowing -hard from the south-eastward, and we consider that we have thus been -carried helplessly along by the effect of a single gale.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>Nov. 2.</i>—A bear came to look at the ship at night, and our dogs soon -chased him on to some thin ice, through which he broke. All hands -turned out to see the sport, and notwithstanding the intense cold many of -the people did not wait to put on their extra clothes. The bear was -dispatched with our rifles, after making some resistance, and maiming -several of the dogs. We have not seen the sun to-day; he has now -taken his final departure from these latitudes. It is getting almost too -dark to shoot seals, and we employ ourselves with such astronomical observations -as are necessary to fix our position, and to calculate our drift, with -observations upon the thermometer, barometer, and meteorology generally.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>Nov. 28.</i>—After a zigzag drift out to the westward, until the 24th inst., -into latitude 75° 1′ N., longitude 70° W., we have commenced a southern -drift, and we trust now to progress gradually out of the straits, until -released in the spring. We have had considerable commotion and ruptures -in the ice-floes lately, but fortunately the nips have not come too close to -us. We ascend the masthead, to the crow’s-nest, every morning, to look -out for water, for our dogs are getting ravenous, and we want food for them.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>December 4.</i>—Poor Scott died last night, and was buried through the -floe this evening, all hands drawing his earthly remains upon a sledge, -and the officers walking by the side. It was a bitterly cold night, the -temperature 35° below zero, with a fresh wind, and the beautiful paraselene -(ominous of a coming gale) lighting us on our way. The ice has been more -quiet lately, and we are becoming more reconciled to our imprisonment.</p> - -<p class="pt">A reading, writing, and navigation school has commenced, and our -Captain loses no opportunity of attending to the amusement and recreation -of the men, so necessary in this dreary life. Besides the ordinary duties of -cleaning the ship, the men are exercised in building snow houses, and preparing -travelling equipage.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>December 21.</i>—The winter solstice. We have about half an hour’s -partial daylight, by which the type of <i>The Times</i> newspaper may be just -distinguished on a board facing the south, where, near noon, a slight -glimmer of light is refracted above the horizon, while in the zenith and -northward the stars are shining brilliantly. In the absence of <i>light and -shade</i> we cannot see to walk over the ice, for the hummocks can scarcely -be distinguished from the floe; all presents a uniform level surface, and, -in walking, one constantly falls into the fissures, or runs full butt against<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[Pg 104]</span> -the blocks of ice. We must now, therefore, be content with an hour or -two’s tramp alongside, or on our snow-covered deck under housing; and, -during the remainder of the day, we sit below in our little cabin, which has -now crystallized by the breath condensing and freezing on the bulkheads, -and we endeavour to read and talk away the time. But our subjects of -conversation are miserably worn out; our stories are old and oft-repeated; -we start impossible theories, and we bet upon the results of our new -observations as to our progress, as we unconsciously drift and drift before -the gale. At night we retire to our beds, thankful that another day has -passed; a deathlike stillness reigns around, broken only by the ravings of -some sleep-talker, the tramp of the watch upon deck, a passing bear -causing a general rousing of our dogs, or a simultaneous rush of these poor -ravenous creatures at our cherished stores of seal-beef in the shrouds; and, -as we listen to the distant groaning and sighing of the ice, we thank God -that we have still a home in these terrible wastes.</p> - -<p class="pt"><i>December 28.</i>—During Divine service yesterday, the wind increased, -and towards the afternoon we had a gale from the north-westward, attended -with an unusual rise of temperature; to-day the gale continues, with a -warm wind from the N.N.W.</p> - -<p class="pt">“The Danish settlers at Upernavik, in North Greenland, are at times -startled by a similar sudden rise of temperature. During the depth of -winter, when all nature has been long frozen, and the sound of falling water -almost forgotten, rain will fall in torrents; and as rain in such a climate is -attended with every discomfort, this is looked upon as a most unwelcome -phenomenon. It is called the <i>Warm South-east Wind</i>. Now, if the -Greenlanders at Upernavik are astonished at a warm <i>South-east Wind</i>, -how much rather must the seamen, frozen up in the pack, be astonished at a -warm <i>North-west Wind</i>. Various theories have been started to account -for this phenomenon; but it appears most probable that a rotatory gale -passes over the place, and that the rise in temperature is due to the -direction from which the whole <i>mass of air</i> may come, viz. from the -southward, and not to the direction of <i>wind</i> at the time.”</p> - -<p class="pt">Let us now return to the narrative, for our days were now becoming -mere repetitions of each other. We saw no change, nor did we hope for -any until the spring. Gale followed gale; and an occasional alarm of a -disruption in the ice, a bear or seal hunt, formed our only excitement; -indeed, we sometimes hoped for some crisis, were it only to break the -dreadful monotony of our lives. Our walks abroad afforded us no recreation; -on the contrary, it was really a trying task to spin out the time necessary -for exercise. Talk of a dull turnpike-road at home! Are not the -larks singing and the farm boys whistling? But with us what a contrast! -Our walks were without an object; one had literally nothing to see or hear; -turn north, south, east, or west, still snow and hummocks. You see a little -black mark waving in the air: walk to it—it is a crack in a hummock. -You think a berg is close to you; go to it—still a hummock, refracted -through the gloom. The only thing to do is to walk to windward, so as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[Pg 105]</span> -to be certain of returning safe and not frostbitten, to pick out a smooth -place, and form imaginary patterns with your footprints. Philosophers -would bid us think and reflect; but if philosophers were shut up with us -amid the silence and darkness of an Arctic winter, they would probably -do as we did—endeavour to get away from their thoughts.</p> - -<p class="pt">By the 29th of January, we had drifted into latitude 72° 46′ north, -longitude 62° west, and by the aid of refraction we saw the sun for the -first time since November 2. We ought indeed to have greeted him -on a meridian far westward of our present position, but it had been -out of power to do more this year, and we could only hope for more -success in the next. The weather had now become intensely cold, the -mercury was frozen, and the spirit thermometer registered 46° below zero. -We had great difficulty in clearing our bed-places of ice, and our blankets -froze nightly to the ship’s side; but we had the sun to shine upon us, and -that made amends for all. What a different world was now before our -eyes! Even in those dreary regions where nothing moves, and no sounds -are heard save the rustling of the snowdrift, the effects of the bright sun -are so exhilarating that a walk was now quite enjoyable. If any one doubt -how necessary light is for our existence, just let him shut himself up for -three months in the coal-cellar, with an underground passage into the ice-house, -where he may go for a change of air, and see if he will be in as -good health and spirits at the end of the experiment as before. At all -events, he will have obtained the best idea one can form at home of an Arctic -winter in a small vessel, save that the temperature of the Arctic ice-house -is -40°, instead of +32°, as at home; only 72° difference!</p> - -<p class="pt">On the 14th of February some of us walked out to where the ice was -opening to the northward, and saw a solitary <a id="TN105A" name="TN105A"></a>dovekie in winter plumage. -These beautiful little birds appear to winter on the ice. The water, -appearing deep black from the long absence of any relief from the eternal -snow, was rippled by a strong wind, and the little waves, so small as to be -compared to those of the Serpentine at home, sending forth to us a new, -and, consequently, joyous sound, induced us to linger long by the side of -the small lake—so long, that we were only reminded, by our faces beginning -to freeze, that we were at least three miles from the ship, a gale blowing -with thick snow-drift—besides no chance of getting anything for the pot.</p> - -<p class="pt">A memorable day was the 26th of February, when we opened the -skylight and let in daylight below, where we had been living for four -months by the light of our solitary dips. The change was indeed -wonderful, and at first uncomfortable, for it exposed the manner in which -we had been content to live. With proper clothing you may laugh at the -climate, if not exposed too long without food. It is not the cold outside -that is to be feared, but the damp, and plague-engendering state of things -below. This can only be guarded against by having good fires and plenty -of light.</p> - -<p class="pt">Towards the latter end of March, the ice was getting very unquiet, -and we had frequent disruptions close to the ship. On the night of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[Pg 106]</span> -25th of March, a wide fissure, which had been opening and closing during -the previous fortnight, closed with such force as to pile up tons and tons -of ice within forty yards of the ship, and shattered our old floe in a line -with our deck. The nipping continued, and on the following night a huge -block was hurled within thirty yards from us. Another such a night and -the little <i>Fox</i> would have been knocked into lucifer matches, and we should -have been turned out upon the floe.</p> - -<p class="pt">April was ushered in with a continuance of heavy northerly gales; we -were constantly struggling with the ice. We were three times adrift, and expecting -to see our ship destroyed; and on the night of the 5th, the floes -opened, and as their edges again came together, they threatened to tear -everything up. We were on deck throughout the night; our boats and -dogs were cut off from us, but with great exertion we managed to save the -dogs, although we nearly lost some of our men who went in search of them. -We that night secured the ship by the bower chains, and we afterwards -had a few days’ quiet. On the 10th we saw the mountain peaks about -Cape Dyer, on the west side of Davis’ Straits, the first land seen since -the previous October. We had drifted into lat. 66° 5′ N., and long. -58° 41′ W.; and we hoped that after passing Cape Walsingham, the pack -would open out.</p> - -<p class="pt">On April 17, in a heavy storm, a general breaking-up of the ice took -place, and we were turned completely out of our winter dock, and into an -apparently open sea. A scene of wild confusion ensued; the floes were -driving against each other in all directions, and the whole ocean of ice -appeared in commotion, while a blinding snow-drift distorted and magnified -every surrounding object. Our first care was to save our dogs; -but as an Esquimaux dog always expects either a thrashing or to be put -in harness when approached by a man, and the poor creatures were terror-stricken -with the storm, they ran wildly about over the ice, and many of -them were obliged to be abandoned to their fate, after sharing the perils -of the winter with us. On board the ship, preparations were made to -get her under command; for we were driving down upon the lee, and -into loose ice, where our men could not have rejoined us with the boats. -We shipped the rudder, and soon got some canvas upon the vessel, and -having got the men and boats safely on board, we steered to the eastward, -and really thought that we were released. A dark water-sky hung over -the eastern horizon, and we thought that we were not far from the open -ocean. But we had not proceeded more than some seventeen miles, when -at midnight we came to a stoppage. It was fearfully dark and cold, and -with the greatest difficulty we cleared the masses of ice. The water space -in which we worked the ship became gradually less and less; we flew from -side to side of this fast decreasing lake, until at last we had not room to -stay the vessel. By 4 <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span> we were again beset.</p> - -<p class="pt">We now commenced a second drift with the pack, which took us down -to latitude 64° north, and longitude 57° west, on the 25th April, when, -towards midnight, a swell entered into the pack, and gradually increased,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[Pg 107]</span> -until the ice commenced churning up around the vessel, and dashing -against her sides. These violent shocks continued throughout the morning, -and really seemed as if they would soon destroy the ship. However, by -the power of steam, we got the vessel’s head towards the swell, and with a -strong fair wind, we commenced pushing out. After many narrow escapes -from contact with the icebergs, we were by night in comparatively open -water. We were free! and steered a course for the settlement of Holsteinborg, -in Greenland, to recruit, and to prepare for another attempt. -What a change on the following morning! Not a piece of ice could -be seen, save a few distant bergs. We once more had our little vessel -dancing under us upon the waters, innumerable sea-birds flew around us, -and the very sea, in contrast to its late frozen surface, appeared alive with -seals and whales. All nature seemed alive, and we felt as if we had risen -from the dead! In the evening, the snow-covered peaks of Sukkertoppen -were seen, and on the 28th of April, we moored in Holsteinborg harbour. -Our anchors had not been down, nor had our feet touched the land since -the 3rd of August. Ice-bound and imprisoned, we had drifted upwards of -1,200 miles. Need it be added how thankful we were to that kind Providence -who had watched over us, and under Him to our gallant Captain, -to whose unremitting attentions to our comforts and safety we owed our -health and deliverance!</p> - -<p class="pt">The winter in Greenland had been very severe, and the country was -still snow-covered, and without an indication of spring. The natives were -scarcely aroused from their winter’s sleep, and all our expectations of -venison and ptarmigan feasts soon vanished. Very few reindeer had yet -been taken, the season not commencing before July, when the hunters go -up the fiords and kill them by thousands for the sake of their skins alone, -leaving their carcasses to be devoured by the wolves.</p> - -<p class="pt">Our men, however, were bent upon enjoying themselves, and as Jack’s -wants are few, with the aid of a couple of fiddlers and some bottles of grog, -they kept up one continuous ball—patronized by all the fair Esquimaux -damsels—in the dance-house on shore. The whole population had turned -out to meet us. We were entertained by the kind-hearted dames upon -stockfish and seal-beef, and such luxuries as they could afford, with a -hearty welcome to their neat and cleanly houses; and we in our turn -endeavoured to do the hospitalities on board the <i>Fox</i> with pickled pork -and preserved cabbage. It was new life to us, who had been confined so -long in our little den, thus to mingle with these friendly people. Never -was sympathy more needed. We arrived hungry and unshaven, our faces -begrimed with oil-smoke, our clothes in tatters; the good women of Holsteinborg -worked and washed for us, repaired our sadly disreputable -wardrobes, danced for us, sang to us, and parted from us with tears and -a few little presents by way of <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">souvenirs</span></i>, as if we could ever forget them. -We wrote a few hasty letters, hoping that they would reach home in the -autumn, and sailed once more upon our voyage.</p> - -<p class="pt">We wished to call at Godhavn for another Esquimaux and some more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[Pg 108]</span> -dogs, besides a few stores, of which we stood in need; so, sailing up the -coast, we arrived off the harbour on the night of May 10, but an impenetrable -stream of loose ice blockaded the entrance. It was a wild -night, and snowing heavily; sea, air, ice islands and icebergs seemed all -mingled in one common haze. We endeavoured to haul off the land, -and near midnight we narrowly escaped destruction upon an island, -which, seen suddenly on the lee-beam, was at first taken for a berg. -We all thought our ship must be dashed upon the rocks, and we were -only saved by the presence of mind and seamanship of our Captain, who -never left the deck, and wore the ship within a few yards of the shore. -We anchored next day at the Whale-fish Islands, and fell in there with -the <i>Jane</i> and <i>Heroine</i> whalers, whose captains gave us a true Scotch -welcome, and ransacked their ships to find some little comforts for us. -We again tasted the roast beef of old England. From the islands, we -crossed to Godhavn, where finding the harbour still full of ice, we hauled -into a rocky creek outside, a perfect little dock just capable of holding -the ship, but exposed to southerly winds.</p> - -<p class="pt">By the 25th of May we were prepared for another and final attempt to -accomplish our mission, and to try our fortunes in the ice. We were -certainly sobered down considerably by our late severe lesson; but -although less confident in our own powers, a steady determination to do -our best prevailed throughout the ship. Passing again through the Waigat, -we stopped at the coal-deposits to fill up with fuel, and we shot a few -ptarmigan while thus detained. We next stopped at Saunderson’s Hope, -“the Cape where the fowls do breed,” but it was yet too early for eggs, -and as the looms had no young to protect, they flew away in thousands -at every discharge of a gun; we got but few of these, in our opinion, -delicious birds. On the 31st, we made fast to an iceberg off Upernavik, -to await the breaking up of the ice in Melville Bay. When we were -in these latitudes the previous year, all things living were migrating southward, -but now constant flights of sea-birds streamed northward, night -and day, towards their breeding-places and feeding-grounds, and by sitting -on the rocky points, and shooting them as they passed, we could generally -make a fair bag. We were now almost subsisting on eider ducks and looms.</p> - -<p class="pt">On June the 6th, we commenced our ice-struggles in Melville Bay, -endeavouring, according to the usual mode of navigation, to push up, -between the main pack and the ice still attached to the land, on all -occasions when the winds moved the pack out, and left a space or lane of -water. While thus following up the coast, on the 7th, we ran upon a reef -of sunken and unknown rocks, and, on the tide falling, we lay over in such -a manner as to threaten to fill upon the water again rising. We succeeded, -however, in heaving off without damage.</p> - -<p class="pt">After many escapes from being squeezed by the ice closing upon the -land, and after three weeks of intense labour, we reached Cape York on -June 26th. We there communicated with the natives who had so much -assisted Dr. Kane, when he wintered in Smith Sound. These poor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[Pg 109]</span> -creatures live upon the flesh of the bear, seal, and walrus, which they kill -upon the ice with bone spears. They are, perhaps, the only people in the -world living upon a sea-coast without boats of any kind, and are so completely -isolated, that, previous to their being first visited in 1818, they -considered themselves to be the only people in the world. Dr. Kane left -among them a Greenland Esquimaux, “Hans,” with his canoe. They -told us that Hans was married, and was well, but that they had eaten the -boat, besides many of their dogs, when hungry, during the last winter. We -invited them on board, and they saw all our treasures of wood and iron; -but they appeared to covet more than all, our dogs, and a few light pieces -of wood, fit for spear-handles. We sent them away rejoicing over a few -presents of long knives and needles, and they continued to dance and -brandish the knives over their heads until we were out of sight.</p> - -<p class="pt">Passing Cape Dudley Diggs, we landed at a breeding-place of rotges -(little auks); the birds were sitting in myriads upon the ledges of the -cliffs, and we shot a great many; but our time was too precious to wait -long, even for fresh food, and so we bore away. We were considerably -baffled with ice-floes in crossing over towards Lancaster Sound, and we did -not reach that side until July 12.</p> - -<p class="pt">Near Cape Horsburgh we found a small and enterprising family of -natives, who had crossed over to this barren land from Pond’s Bay, two -years previously, in search of better hunting ground. These poor people -could give us no information of the missing ships; so we merely stopped to -give them a few presents; we then steered for Pond’s Bay, from whence -we had heard rumours of wrecks and wreck-wood being in the possession -of the natives. In crossing Lancaster Sound, we were completely beset in -the pack, and were even threatened with another drift out to sea like that -of last year; we fortunately escaped, however, from the grip of the ice, -after being carried for seven days in a helpless state, and as far as Cape -Bathurst, before we could regain command over our ship.</p> - -<p class="pt">At the entrance to Pond’s Bay, we found an old woman and a boy -living in a skin tent, their tribe being some twenty-five miles up the inlet, -at a village on the north side. This village, called Kapawroktolik, could -not be reached by land, on account of the precipitous cliffs facing the sea. -The inlet was, however, yet full of ice, and Captain M‘Clintock endeavoured -to reach the natives by sledge. In the meantime, we on board were -employed in collecting sea-birds from the neighbouring breeding cliffs of -Cape Grahame Moore. We also frequently visited the land to collect -cochlearia, or scurvy-grass, which grew luxuriantly about the old -Esquimaux encampments. A trade was commenced with the old lady on -shore; for we found that, concealed among the stones, she had a number -of narwhales’ horns, teeth, and blades of whalebone, of which she would -only produce one at a time, by way of enhancing the value by its apparent -scarcity. Around her tent were snares set in all directions for catching -birds, and she had a large quantity of putrid blubber lying <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en cache</span></i>, which -was her principal food and fuel. The boy brought us a hare, which he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[Pg 110]</span> -had shot with his bow and arrow. Captain M‘Clintock having failed to -reach the village, owing to the ice being all adrift in the inlet, he determined -to take the ship there if possible, and to take the old woman as pilot.</p> - -<p class="pt">We ran alongside her tent, which she soon packed up with all her -worldly riches, and came on board thoroughly drenched with the rain, -which had poured in torrents all day. Our people managed to rig her out -in some dry clothes; the poor boy was made snug in the engine room, -and the old lady voluntarily took her station as pilot upon the deck -throughout the night, and was very anxious to point out the beauties of -her country, and the “pleasant sleeping places.”</p> - -<p class="pt">We could only get within eight miles of the village, owing to there being -fast ice in the inlet; so, securing the ship to it, the Captain and Hobson -started over the ice. On board the ship we hoped to have a quiet Sunday, -but a number of right-whales playing round the vessel, and pushing their -backs under the ice, constantly broke away the rotten edge to which we -lay. We were thus kept constantly beating up again to it; and in the -evening, about six or seven miles of the ice coming away in one floe, and -turning round upon us, we were forced upon the south shore of the inlet, -and momentarily expected being driven upon the rocks; but after blasting -the ice with gunpowder for nearly two hours, in order to gain every inch, -we got clear just as we were touching the ground.</p> - -<p class="pt">The next morning (August 2) the Captain and party returned. They -had a most interesting trip, and described the village as situated in a most -romantic spot, close upon the shore, at the foot of a deep valley filled with -a glacier, which completely overhung the settlement, and threw jets of -water almost to the tents. The natives were delighted to see them, and, -in answer to the inquiries through the interpreter (Mr. Petersen), they -said that two old wrecks were lying four days’ journey southward of Cape -Bowen—probably in Scot’s Inlet. These two ships came on shore together -many years ago. They also confirmed an account from our lady pilot of -an old wreck lying to the northward in Lancaster Sound, one day’s journey -from Cape Hay, or, as they call it, Appak (breeding-place of birds). The -wood in their possession was now accounted for, as also their great anxiety -to procure saws, which they always asked for in barter. These wrecks -were not those we sought, and we had no occasion to delay our voyage -by looking at them. The natives drew a rough chart of the interior of -this unknown country. They especially pointed out the salmon rivers, and -the hunting and sleeping places, and gave a few general ideas of the profile -of the land, and the main directions of the different channels which -intersect it; describing North Devon as an island, and showing a water -communication with Igloolik, where Parry wintered. We had now set -at rest all rumours of Franklin’s ships being in the neighbourhood of -Pond’s Bay; and having made a few observations for the survey of the -place, we departed for Beechey Island, regretting that the whaleships -had not been with us to profit by the number of fish we had seen. As -we entered Lancaster Sound, five huge bears sat watching a dead whale;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[Pg 111]</span> -they sat upon different pieces of ice, apparently taking turns to feed, and -evidently afraid of each other. We shot a couple of them, but one escaped -over the ice after a long chase, although desperately wounded.</p> - -<p class="pt">The next morning (August 7) the wind increased to a perfect storm -from the eastward; the fog was, as seamen say, as thick as pease-soup; we -could see nothing; and compasses being here useless, we had to trust to our -luck rather than good guidance for keeping in the fairway. We saw very -little ice, but the sea ran so high upon the 8th, that we thought it prudent -to lie-to for some hours. On the 10th, a herd of walrus was seen off Cape -Felfoot, upon a piece of sailing ice, and lying so close as to completely -cover it. The ship was run close alongside, and several were shot, but -we did not succeed in getting one; for, unless instantaneously killed, -they always wriggle off the ice and sink. The only practical method of -getting a walrus is with a gun-harpoon from a boat; as yet we had shot -only one during our voyage. Steering round Cape Hurd in a thick fog, -we struck on an unknown shoal, but soon backed off again, and let -go the anchor, as we could not see our position. About midnight the -fog lifted, and we proceeded. A large bear was seen swimming round a -point, and was shot; and shortly after, one of the men fell overboard: he -was picked up rather exhausted with his cold bath, and perhaps a little -alarmed at bathing in company with polar bears. We anchored next day -off Cape Riley, where the <i>Bredalbane</i> was lost, after Captain Inglefield -had landed some of her stores and coals. We found that the bears had -been amusing themselves with the provisions, and had eaten out the bilges -between the hoops of many of the casks. They evidently had a particular -relish for chocolate and salt pork (we hoped they liked it), and had taken -the greatest trouble to throw everything about. We visited the stores at -Beechey; they had been stored and housed with extreme care. A violent -gale had passed over the place, for the door of the house was blown in -and the entrance full of snow, but nothing was damaged excepting some -biscuit. We also visited the graves, so often described, yet ever interesting, -of the poor fellows who died in Franklin’s first winter quarters, and -whose comrades we were now seeking.</p> - -<p class="pt">Our coaling from Cape Riley was completed by the 15th, and we were -glad to leave that exposed and dangerous place. We had been considerably -troubled with drift ice, and on the 13th we drove half across the bay, with -both anchors down, and had to moor to a piece of ice grounded close to the -ship. We crossed to the house at Beechey, and there landed a handsome -tombstone (sent out by Lady Franklin), in memorial of Sir John Franklin -and his companions. It was placed close to the monument erected by their -shipmates to the memory of poor Bellot and those who had died in the -previous searching expeditions. Taking in such stores as were actually -necessary, and having repaired the house, we crossed over to Cape Hotham -for a boat (left there by Penny), to replace one of ours which had been -crushed by the ice. Wellington Channel appeared to be clear of ice, and -a jumping sea, from the southward, gave us promise of clear water in that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[Pg 112]</span> -direction. On the 17th, we were sailing down Peel Sound with a fresh -wind, and carrying every rag of canvas. Passing Limestone Island and -Cape Granite, we began to think that we should go right through, for as -yet no ice could be seen ahead; but the southern sky looked bright and -icy, while, in contrast, a dark gloom hung over the waters we had left -in the northward. Still we sailed on merrily, and were already talking of -passing the winter near the Fish River, and returning the following year -by Behring’s Straits, when “Ice ahead!” was reported from the crow’s-nest; -and there it certainly was, a long low white barrier, of that peculiar -concave form always indicating fast-ice. The Straits had not broken up this -season, and we could not pass that way. We were bitterly disappointed, -but not disheartened, for we had yet another chance of getting to our -longed-for destination by way of Bellot Straits. Not an hour was to be -lost; the season was passing away; and thither our captain determined -to go at once. We reluctantly ran out of this promising channel, and -sailed close along the north shores of Somerset, without seeing any ice of -consequence. The night of the 18th set in dark and squally, but in the -absence of ice we were quite at our ease. We steamed close under the -magnificent castellated cliffs of Cape Clarence, and entered Leopold Harbour -to land a boat, in the event of our having to abandon our ship and fall back -this way.</p> - -<p class="pt">We found Regent’s Inlet clear, excepting a few streams of loose ice, -through which we easily sailed. We passed Elwin and Batty Bays, and -everything, as an old quartermaster expressed it, looked “werry prosperious.” -Poor fellow! he knew that every mile sailed in the right direction -would save him a hard pull at the sledge ropes.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the 20th, we passed close to Fury Beach, where the <i>Fury</i> was -lost in 1825; but the pace was too good to stop to visit even this most -interesting spot. We came on with a fair wind and clear water to the -latitude of Bellot Straits. Our excitement now became intense. The -existence of the strait had been disputed, and upon it depended all our -hopes. Running into Brentford Bay, we thought we saw ice streaming out, -as if through some channel from the westward, but as yet we could see no -opening; and being unable to get farther that night, we anchored in a -little nook discovered on the north side of the bay. A look-out was set -upon the highest hill, to watch the movements of the ice, and on the next -day we made our first attempt to sail through. We started with a strong -western tide, and under both steam and canvas, and, after proceeding -about three miles, we were delighted to find that a passage really -existed; but we had not got half way through when, the tide changing, a -furious current came from the westward, bringing down upon us such -masses of ice that we were carried helplessly away, and were nearly dashed -upon huge pieces of grounded ice and reefs of rocks, over which the floes -were running, and would have immediately capsized the little <i>Fox</i> had she -touched. This current ran at least seven knots an hour, and was more like -a bore in the Hooghly than any ordinary tide. Struggling clear, after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[Pg 113]</span> -some considerable anxiety, and carried out of the straits, we reluctantly -went back to the anchorage we had left. Night and day we now earnestly -watched Bellot Straits, but they remained choked with the ice, which -apparently drove backwards and forwards with the stream. We made -another desperate attempt on the 25th August, and hung on, at imminent -risk, in a small indentation about two-thirds through, and close under -the precipitous cliffs. We were soon driven out of this again by the ice; -yet so determined was our Captain to get through, that he then thought -of pushing the ship into the pack, and driving with it into the western -sea. We found, however, that the western entrance must be blocked, for -the ice did not move fast in that direction. We could now do nothing but -wait a change; and to employ the time, we sailed down the east coast -of Boothia for some forty miles, to land a depôt of provisions, in case we -should require, in the following winter, to communicate with the natives -about Port Elizabeth. Navigation was now very cold and dreary work: -we struggled back to Bellot Straits against strong north winds, sleet, -and snow, and without compass, chart, or celestial objects to guide us. -The Captain next went away in a boat, determining, when stopped, to -travel over land to the western sea to examine the actual state of things -there; and Young was sent to the southward for five days with boat and -sledge, to ascertain if another passage existed where a promising break in -the land had been seen.</p> - -<p class="pt">The Captain returned to the ship on the 31st, bringing with him a fine -fat buck; he had reached Cape Bird by water and land, and brought us a -favourable report of Victoria Straits. Our hopes of getting through were -again raised. Young returned unsuccessful from the south; no other -strait existed, but only an inlet, extending some six miles in, and a chain of -lakes thence into the interior to the south-westward. Young saw only one -deer, but many bears were roaming about the coast.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the 6th September we made another dash at the straits, and this time -succeeded in reaching a rocky islet, two miles outside the western entrance; -but a barrier of fast ice, over which we could see a dark <i>water-sky</i>, here -stopped us. Moored to the ice, we employed ourselves in killing seals, -hunting for bears, and making preparations for travelling. Young was -sent to an island eight miles to the south-west, to look around; and on -ascending the land, he was astonished to see water as far as the visible -horizon to the southward in Victoria Straits. While sitting down, taking -some angles with the sextant, he luckily turned round just in time to see -a large bear crawling up the rocks to give him a pat on the head. He -seized his rifle and shot him through the body, but the beast struggled -down and died out of reach, in the water, and thus a good depôt of beef was -lost. Hobson, who, for some days, had been employed carrying provisions -on to this island, started on the 25th with a party of seven men and two -dog-sledges to carry depôts as far as possible to the southward, and the -Captain placed a boat on the islet close to the ship, in case we should have -to leave for winter quarters before Hobson’s return.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[Pg 114]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">The winter now set in rapidly, new ice was fast increasing, and the -weather very severe; all navigation was at an end, and the barrier outside -of us had never moved. We had now no hopes of getting further, and as -no harbour existed where we were, we had nothing for it but to seek our -winter home in Bellot Straits, and finish our work in the following winter and -spring. So leaving Hobson to find his way to us, we ran back through -Bellot Straits towards a harbour that we had discovered and named Port -Kennedy. The straits were already covered with scum, and almost unnavigable, -but we reached the harbour at midnight on the 27th, and ran the -ship as far as possible into the new ice which now filled it. The <i>Fox</i> -had done her work until the following summer. No opportunity was now -lost of procuring fresh food. The deer were migrating southward and a -few were shot as they passed. But the hunting was very precarious; the -deer were travelling, and did not stop much to feed; there was no cover -whatever, and stalking over the rugged hills and snow-filled valleys was -most laborious. A few ptarmigan and hares were also shot, but we -were altogether disappointed in the resources of the country. We had, -however, a fair stock of bear and seal flesh for our dogs and ourselves to -begin upon.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the 6th October Hobson returned, having reached some fifty miles -down the west coast of Boothia, but was there stopped by the yet broken-up -state of the ice. Finding that we had left Cape Bird, and that Bellot -Straits were impassable for the boat, he travelled back to the ship over the -mountains. The people were now clearing out the ship, landing all superfluous -stores, and building magnetic observatories of snow and ice, besides -hunting for the pot. We once more buried the ship with snow.</p> - -<p class="pt">On the 24th, Hobson again started for the south-westward, to follow -up his last track, and to endeavour to push his depôts further on. He -returned to the ship on November 6, having experienced most severe -weather, and great dangers from the unquiet state of the ice. When -encamped near the shore, in latitude 70° 21′, the ice broke suddenly away -from the land and drifted out to sea before the gale, carrying them off with -it. They were perched upon a small floe piece, and a wide crack separated -the two tents. Dense snow-drift heightened the darkness of the night, -and they could not possibly tell in which direction they were driving. -The next morning they found themselves fifteen miles from where they -had pitched the previous evening. By the mercy of Providence a calm -succeeded, and they escaped to the land over the ice which immediately -formed. So thin was this new ice, that they momentarily expected to -break through. By great exertion Hobson saved the depôt; and finding -it impossible to do any more, he landed the provisions and returned to the -ship. Our autumn travelling was now brought to a close. A depôt of -provisions was to have been carried by Young across Victoria Straits, but -this was given up as evidently impracticable. We sat down for the winter, -praying that we might be spared to finish our work in the spring. -The whole ship’s company marched in funeral procession to the shore<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[Pg 115]</span> -on the 10th November, bearing upon a sledge the mortal remains of poor -Mr. Bland (our chief engineer), who was found dead in his bed on the 7th. -The burial service having been read, he was deposited in his frozen tomb, -on which the wild flowers will never grow, and over which his relations -can never mourn. We were all on board almost as one family, and any one -taken from us was missed as one from the fireside at home. It was long -before this sorrowful feeling throughout the ship could be shaken off. -On the 14th the sun disappeared, and we were left in darkness; our -skylights had long been covered over with snow, and by the light of -our solitary dip we tried to pass the weary hours by reading, sleeping, -and smoking. We were frozen in, in a fine harbour, surrounded by -lofty granite hills, and on these were occasionally found a few ptarmigan, -hares, and wild foxes; whenever the weather permitted, or we could at all -see our way, we wandered over these dreary hills in search of a fresh mess. -We varied our exercise with excursions on the ice in search of bears. -But although exercise was so necessary for our existence, yet from the winds -drawing through the straits and down our harbour as through a funnel, -there were many days, and even weeks, when we could scarcely leave the -ship. The men set fox-traps in all directions, and Mr. Petersen set seal-nets -under the ice. The nets were not successful, but the traps gave an object for -a walk. Magnetic observations were carried on throughout the winter;—the -reading of one instrument, placed in a snow-house some 200 yards from -the ship, being registered every hour night and day. On some of the wild -winter nights, there was some risk in going even that distance from the ship. -Christmas and New Year’s days were spent with such rejoicing as in -our situation we could make, and we entered upon the year 1859 with good -health and spirits. Our dogs, upon which so much depended, were also in -first-rate condition, and not one of them had died.</p> - -<p class="pt">The sun returned to us on January 26th; the daylight soon began to -increase; and by February 10th, we were all ready to start upon our first -winter journey. Bad weather detained us until the 17th, when Captain -M‘Clintock and Young both left the ship; the Captain, with only two -companions, Mr. Petersen (interpreter) and Thompson as dog-driver, to -travel down the west coast of Boothia, to endeavour to obtain information, -preparatory to the long spring journeys, from some natives supposed to live -near the magnetic pole. Young was to cross Victoria Straits with a depôt -of provisions, to enable him in the spring to search the coast of Prince of -Wales Land, wherever it might trend. He returned on March 5.</p> - -<p class="pt">The Captain’s party hove in sight on the 14th, and we all ran -out to meet him. He had found a tribe of natives at Cape Victoria, near -the magnetic pole, and from them he learnt that some years ago a large -ship was crushed by the ice, off the north-west coast of King William -Land; that the people had come to the land, and had travelled down that -coast to the estuary of the Great Fish River where they had died upon -an island (Montreal Island); the natives had spears, bows and arrows, -and other implements made of wood, besides a quantity of silver spoons<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[Pg 116]</span> -and forks, which they said they had procured on the island (more probably -by barter from other tribes). It was now evident that we were on the -right track, and with this important information Captain M‘Clintock -returned to the ship.</p> - -<p class="pt">Our winter travelling was thus ended, fortunately without any mishap.</p> - -<p class="pt">Those only who know what it is to be exposed to a temperature of -frozen mercury accompanied with wind, can form any idea of the discomforts -of dragging a sledge over the ice, upon an unknown track, day -after day, and for eight or ten consecutive hours, without a meal or drink, -the hands and face constantly frostbitten, and your very boots full of ice; -to be attacked with snow blindness; to encamp and start in the dark, and -spend sixteen hours upon the snow, in a brown-holland tent, or the hastily -erected snow-house, listening to the wind, the snow-drift, and the howling -of the dogs outside, and trying to wrap the frozen blanket closer round the -shivering frame. The exhaustion to the system is so great, and the thirst -so intense, that the evening pannikin of tea and the allowanced pound of -pemmican would not be given up were it possible to receive the whole -world in exchange; and woe to the unlucky cook if he capsized the kettle!</p> - -<p class="pt">On the 18th March, Young again started for Fury Beach, distant -seventy-five miles, to get some of the sugar left there by Parry in 1825, -and now considered necessary for the health of our men by the surgeon. -This journey occupied until the 28th, one sledge having broken down, and -the whole weight—about 1200 lbs.—having to be worked back piecemeal -with one sledge, by a sort of fox-and-goose calculation. Dr. Walker, -who had also volunteered to go down for the provisions left on the east -coast in the autumn, and now not required there, returned about the same -time. With the information already obtained, and which only accounted -for one ship, Captain M‘Clintock saw no reason for changing the original -plan of search, viz., that he should trace the Montreal Island and round -King William Land; that Hobson should cross from the magnetic pole -to Collinson’s farthest on Victoria Land, and follow up that coast; and that -Young should cross Victoria Straits and connect the coast of Prince of -Wales Land with either Collinson’s farthest on Victoria Island or Osborne’s -farthest on the west coast of Prince of Wales Land, according as he might -discover the land to trend. Young was also to connect the coast with -Browne’s farthest in Peel Sound, and explore the coast of North Somerset -from Sir James Ross’s farthest (Four River Bay) to Bellot Straits. This -would complete the examination of the whole unexplored country.</p> - -<p class="pt">The travelling parties were each to consist of four men drawing one -sledge, and six dogs with a second sledge, besides the officer in charge, and -the dog-driver. By the aid of depôts, already carried out, and from the -extreme care with which Captain M‘Clintock had prepared the travelling -equipment, and had reduced every ounce of unnecessary weight, we expected -to be able to be absent from the ship, and without any other -resource, for periods of from seventy to eighty days, and if necessary even -longer. The Captain and Hobson both started on the 2nd April, and Young<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[Pg 117]</span> -got away upon the 7th. The <i>Fox</i> was left in charge of Dr. Walker (surgeon), -and three or four invalids, who were unfit for the fatigues of travelling.</p> - -<p class="pt">Although we all felt much excited at the real commencement of our -active work, and interested in these departures, this was perhaps the most -painful period of our voyage. We had hitherto acted in concert, and all -the dangers of our voyage had been shared together. We were now to be -separated, and for three months to travel in detached parties over the ice, -without an opportunity of hearing of each other until our return. It was -like the breaking up of a happy family, and our only consolation lay in the -hope that when we again met it would be to rejoice over the discovery of -the lost ships. Nothing of interest occurred on board during our absence; -but one of the invalids, poor Blackwell, had been getting gradually worse, -and died of scurvy on June 14, the very day on which Hobson returned.</p> - -<p class="pt">The Captain and Hobson travelled together as far as Cape Victoria. -There they learnt the additional news that another ship had drifted on -shore on the west coast of King William Land in the autumn of the same -year in which the first ship was crushed. Captain M‘Clintock, now -knowing that both ships had been seen off that coast, and that on it the -traces must be found, most generously resigned to Hobson the first opportunity -of searching there, instead of crossing to Victoria Land, as originally -intended. Captain M‘Clintock then went down the east side towards -the Fish River. Near Cape Norton, he found a tribe of some thirty or -forty natives, who appeared much pleased to meet the strange white people. -They answered readily any inquiries, and concealed nothing. They produced -silver spoons and forks, and other relics from the lost ships, and -readily bartered them for knives or needles. They were acquainted with -the wreck, which they said was over the land (on the south-west coast), and -for years they had collected wood and valuables from it, but they had not -visited it for a long time. They had seen Franklin’s people on their march -southward, but had not molested them. They said that they had seen one -human skeleton in the ship. Proceeding on his route, Captain M‘Clintock -next found a native family at Point Booth, near the south-east extreme -of King William Land; these natives gave him the additional information -that the remains of some of the lost people would be found on Montreal -Island. Having searched Montreal Island and main land in the neighbourhood -without finding other traces than a few pieces of copper and iron, -and now having connected the search from the north with Anderson’s -from the south, Captain M‘Clintock proceeded to examine the shores of -Dease and Simpson Straits, and the southern shore of King William Land.</p> - -<p class="pt">Near Cape Herschel, the Captain’s party found a human skeleton upon -the beach as the man had fallen down and died, with his face to the -ground; and a pocket-book, containing letters in German which have not -yet been deciphered, was found close by.</p> - -<p class="pt">The large cairn, originally built by Simpson, at Cape Herschel, had -been pulled down, probably by the natives, and if any record or document -had ever been placed therein by Franklin’s people, they were now lost, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[Pg 118]</span> -none could be found within or around the cairn. Passing Cape Herschel, -Captain M‘Clintock travelled along the hitherto unknown shore, and discovered -it to extend out as far as the meridian of 100° West. There all -traces of the natives ceased,<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> and it appeared as if they had not for many -years lived or hunted beyond that point which was named Cape Crozier -(after Captain Crozier, Franklin’s second in command).</p> - -<p class="pt">The land then trended to the north-eastward, and about twenty miles -from Cape Crozier, M‘Clintock found a boat, which had only a few days -previously been examined by Hobson from the north, and in it a note -left by Hobson to say that he had discovered the records of the <i>Erebus</i> -and <i>Terror</i>, and after travelling nearly to Cape Herschel without finding -further traces, had returned towards the <i>Fox</i>. Captain M‘Clintock, from -the south, had now connected his discoveries with those of Lieutenant -Hobson, to whose very successful journey we will now turn.</p> - -<p class="pt">Parting from the Captain at Cape Victoria, Hobson crossed to Cape -Felix, and near that point he found a cairn, around which were quantities -of clothing, blankets, and other indications of Franklin’s people having -visited that spot, and probably formed a depôt there, in the event of their -abandoning their ships. Anxiously searching among these interesting -relics without finding any record, Hobson continued along the shore to -Cape Victoria, where, on May 6, he discovered a large cairn, and in it -the first authentic account ever obtained of the history of the lost expedition. -It was to the following effect:—That the <i>Erebus</i> and <i>Terror</i> had ascended -Wellington Channel to latitude 77° north, and had returned west of -Cornwallis Island to Beechey Island, where they spent their first winter, -1845-46. Sailing thence in the following season, they were beset, on -September 12, 1846, in latitude 70° 5′ north, longitude 98° 23′ west. -<i>Sir John Franklin died on June 11, 1847</i>; and on the 22nd of April, -1848, having, up to that date, lost by death nine officers and fifteen -men, both ships were abandoned in the ice, five leagues north north-west -of Point Victory. The survivors, 106 in number, had landed, under -the command of Captain Crozier, on the 25th April, at Point Victory, -and would start on the morrow (April 26) for the Great Fish River. -Another record was also found, stating that previously, on the 24th -May, 1847, Lieutenant Grahame Gore and Mr. Charles DesVœux, mate, -had landed from the ship, with a party of six men. The record did not -state for what reason they had landed; but from the number who finally -abandoned the ships, this party must have returned on board, and it is -probable that they merely landed to examine the coast.</p> - -<p class="pt">Quantities of clothing, cooking, and working implements were scattered -about near Point Victory, and a sextant, on which was engraved the name -of Frederick Hornby, was found among the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">débris</span></i>. Collecting a few of the -most interesting of these relics to take with him upon his return, Hobson -then pushed on to the southward, and when near Cape Crozier he discovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[Pg 119]</span> -the boat above mentioned, by a small stanchion just showing up above -the snow. Clearing away the snow, he found in the bottom of the boat -two human skeletons, one of which was under a heap of clothing. There -were also watches, chronometers, silver spoons, money, &c., besides a -number of Bibles, prayer and other religious books; and although one of -the Bibles was underlined in almost every verse, yet not a single writing -was found to throw further light upon the history of the retreating parties. -There were two guns, one barrel of each being loaded and cocked, as if -these poor fellows had been anxiously longing for a passing bear or fox to -save them from starving; for nothing edible was found, save some chocolate -and tea, neither of which could support life in such a climate. Lieutenant -Hobson, having searched the coast beyond Cape Crozier, returned to the -ship on June 14, in a very exhausted state. He had been suffering -severely from scurvy, and was so reduced in strength that he could not -stand. He had been for more than forty days upon his sledge, carried in -and out of the tent by his brave companions, and his sufferings must have -been beyond description. Throughout his journey he had only killed one -bear and a few ptarmigan.</p> - -<p class="pt">Captain M‘Clintock returned on board the <i>Fox</i> on June 19, having -been absent eighty days. He brought with him a number of relics, and -had minutely examined every cairn and the whole coast of King William. -He supposes that the wreck of the ship, unless upon some off-lying island, -has been run over by the ice, and has disappeared; as he saw nothing of -it. He made most valuable discoveries in geography, and surveyed the -coast from Bellot Straits to the magnetic pole, besides having travelled -completely round King William Island, and filled up its unknown coasts. -Besides his other instruments, he carried with him a dip circle, weighing -40 lbs., with which he also made most valuable observations.</p> - -<p class="pt">Young had crossed Victoria Straits (now Franklin Straits), discovered -M‘Clintock Channel, and proved Prince of Wales Land to be an island; -having reached the point which Captain Sherard Osborn came to from the -north. Owing to the very heavy character of the ice, he had failed in -crossing M‘Clintock Channel, and returned to the ship on June 8, for a -day or two’s rest. He had again started, on June 10, to recross Victoria -Straits, and to complete the search to the northward upon Prince of Wales -Land, and the unknown land of North Somerset, and was now absent; and -although the ice was fast breaking up, and the floes already knee-deep with -water, Captain M‘Clintock, notwithstanding his late severe journey, fearing -that something might be wrong, most kindly started immediately, with -only one man and a dog-sledge, to look for him. He found Young perched -up out of the water upon the top of the islet, off Cape Bird, and they -returned together to the ship on June 28. We were now all on board, -and once more together. We were in fair health, although some of us were -a little touched with scurvy. We passed our time in shooting, eating, and -sleeping, and then eating again: our craving for fresh food, or, as the -sailors call it, blood-meat, was excessive; seal and bear flesh, foxes, gulls,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[Pg 120]</span> -or ducks, went indiscriminately into the pot. We rejoiced whenever we -got a fresh mess of any sort.</p> - -<p class="pt">The summer burst upon us; water was pouring down all the ravines, -and flooding the ice in the harbour, and with extreme satisfaction we saw -the snow houses and ice hummocks fast melting away in the now never-setting -sun. A joyous feeling existed throughout the ship, for our work -was done, and we had only to look forward to an early release, and a -return to our families and homes.</p> - -<p class="pt">Over and over again we told our adventures, and we never tired of -listening to the one all-absorbing, though melancholy subject, of the discovery -of the fate of Sir John Franklin and his companions.</p> - -<p class="pt">We had been prepared by the report brought from the Esquimaux in -February to find that all hopes of survivors were at an end, and that the -expedition had met with some fatal and overwhelming casualty; but we -were scarcely prepared to know, nor could we even have realized the manner, -in which they spent their last days upon earth, so fearful a sojourn must it -have been. Beset and surrounded with wastes of snow and ice, they -passed two more terrible winters drifting slowly to the southward at the -rate of one mile in the month, hoping each summer that the ice would open, -and determined not to abandon their ships until every hope was gone. In -nineteen months they had only moved some eighteen miles, their provisions -daily lessening, and their strength fast failing. They had at last left their -ships for the Fish River at least two months before the river could break up -and allow them to proceed, and in the then imperfect knowledge of ice -travelling they could not have carried with them more than forty days’ -provisions. Exhausted by scurvy and starvation, “they dropped as they -walked along,”<a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a> and those few who reached Montreal Island must all have -perished there; and but for their having travelled over the frozen sea we -should have found the remains of these gallant men as they fell by the -way, and but for the land being covered deeply with snow, more relics -of those who had struggled to the beach to die would have been seen. -They all perished, and, in dying in the cause of their country, their dearest -consolation must have been to feel that Englishmen would not rest until -they had followed up their footsteps, and had given to the world what -they could not then give—the grand result of their dreadful voyage—<i>their -Discovery of the North-West Passage</i>. They had sailed down Peel -and Victoria Straits, now appropriately named Franklin Straits, and the -poor human skeletons lying upon the shores of the waters in which Dease -and Simpson had sailed from the westward bore melancholy evidence of -their success.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="pt">By the middle of July the dark blue stream rolled again through -Bellot Straits, but yet not a drop of water could be seen in Regent Inlet. -Our ship was refitted, the stores all on board, and we were quite prepared -for sea. Our engineers were both lost to us, but the Captain soon got -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[Pg 121]</span>the engines into working order, and determined to drive them himself, for -without steam we could reckon upon nothing.</p> - -<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<a rel="nofollow" href="images/i_120a_b.jpg"> -<img class="img100" src="images/i_120a.jpg" alt="A CHART showing the TRACKS OF THE YACHT FOX despatched by Lady Franklin under the command of CAPT’N. M‘CLINTOCK, R.N. in search of H.M. SHIPS EREBUS & TERROR 1857 to 1859" /> -</a> -</div> - -<div class="hidescreen"> -<img class="img100" src="images/i_120a.jpg" alt="A CHART showing the TRACKS OF THE YACHT FOX despatched by Lady Franklin under the command of CAPT’N. M‘CLINTOCK, R.N. in search of H.M. SHIPS EREBUS & TERROR 1857 to 1859" /> -</div> - -<p class="pt">July passed away, and during the first week in August we could still -see one unbroken surface of ice in Regent Inlet; from the highest hill not -a spoonful of water could be made out. We were getting rather anxious, -for had we been detained another winter, we must have abandoned the ship -in the following spring and trusted to our fortunes over the ice. However, -a gale of wind on the 7th and 8th of August caused some disruption in the -inlet, for on the morning of the 9th a report came down from the hills that -a lead of water was seen under the land to the northward. Steam was -immediately made, and pushing close past the islands, we were enabled to -work up the coast in a narrow lane of water between it and the pack.</p> - -<p class="pt">We reached the north side of Creswell Bay on the following day, but, -the wind changing, we saw the pack setting rapidly in upon the land, and -it had already closed upon Fury Beach. Our only chance was now to seek -a grounded mass of ice, and to hang on to it. We were indeed glad to get -a little rest, and especially for our captain, who had not left the engines for -twenty-four hours. But we lay in a most exposed position on an open -coast without an indentation, the pack closing in rapidly before the wind -and threatening us with the same fate as befell the <i>Fury</i> when she was -driven on the shore about seven miles from our present position. Hanging -on to this piece of ice with every hawser, we saw it gradually melting -and breaking away, and at spring tides it began to float. On the 15th the -gale shifted to the westward, and blew off the land; we watched the ice -gradually easing off, and directly that we had room, we cast off under -storm-sails, and succeeded in getting out of Regent Inlet and into Lancaster -Sound on the following day. We entered Godhavn, in Greenland, on the -night of August 26, and not having heard from our friends for more -than two years, we did not even wait for daylight for our expected letters. -The authorities on shore kindly sent all they had for us at once to the -ship, and I suppose that letters from home were never opened with more -anxiety.</p> - -<p class="pt">Having a few repairs to do, especially to our rudder, which, with the -spare one, had been smashed by the ice, we remained a day or two to -patch it up for the passage home. Then leaving Godhavn on the 1st -September, although the nights were extremely dark, and the weather -stormy, with many bergs drifting about, we passed down Davis Strait -without incident, and, rounding Cape Farewell on the 13th, we ran across -the Atlantic with strong, fair winds. Captain M‘Clintock landed at the -Isle of Wight on the 20th, and on the 23rd the <i>Fox</i> entered the docks at -Blackwall.</p> - -<p class="pt">Our happy cruise was at an end, and by the mercy of Providence we -were permitted to land again in England.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> The wanderings of the Esquimaux may be traced by the circles of stones by -which they keep down their skin summer tents.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> Esquimaux report.</p></div></div> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="The_First_Morning_of_1860">The First Morning of 1860.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">One evening mid the summer flown</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Has stamp’d my memory more than any;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">It pass’d us by among the many,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And yet it stands there, all alone.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">We sate without our open’d room,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">While fell the eve’s transparent shade;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The out-door world, all warmth and bloom,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To us a summer parlour made.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The garden’s cultivated grace,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The luxury of neatness round,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The careless amplitude of space,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The silence, and the casual sound,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Told of a state thro’ many years</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Serenely safe in doing well;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And while we sate, there struck our ears</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The summons of the evening bell.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">It call’d to food, it call’d to rest,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The many whom the rich man’s dome</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Had gathered in its ample breast,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">To them and him alike a home.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">That very hour, was thund’ring o’er</div> - <div class="verse indent4">A neighbouring land, the tramp of War,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which stalked along the lovely shore,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Its shapes to blast, its sounds to mar.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And ’gainst our own, the reflux wave</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Had pushed its harsh in-flooding swell:</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The clouds which there a tempest gave,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">In shadow on our own land fell.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The pang my bosom rudely beat—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">What if that fate our own had been?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">What if or victory or defeat</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Had wrapp’d us in its woe, and sin?</div><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[Pg 123]</span> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">What if it still our fate should be?</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And the safe hours, enjoy’d like this,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Amid our home-scenes safe and free,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Should be the passing year of bliss?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The new one on the lecturn lies,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Its leaves the turning hand await;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Those fresh unopen’d leaves comprise</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Th’ unread, but written words of Fate.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">O God! what are they? if they be</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The bloody words of ruffian war,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Grant us success!—but rather far</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Avert the scourge of victory!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Too dear the price! Ah! human forms</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of guardian husbands, cherish’d sons</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Once children, hid from smallest harms</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of mind and body, cherish’d ones!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Shall ye stand up, the gallant mark</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of the brute shot, and iron rod,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And man’s frame, exquisite in work,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Be treated like earth’s common clod?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Shall England’s polish’d glory, pure</div> - <div class="verse indent4">In freedom, wisdom, high estate,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her open Bible, and her poor</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Becoming one with rich and great,—</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Shall these high things be but the aim</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of envious men, in rough affray,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To try against the noble frame</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Their brutal skill to rob and slay?</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Forbid it Thou, who to the strong,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And wise, hast might and counsel lent;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And lead’st them danger’s path along,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Audacious, firm, and confident.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Forbid it, Thou, who to the weak</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Permittest to be strong in pray’r;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From Whom we wives and mothers seek</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Peace to endow the new-born year.</div> - </div> -<div class="right">V.</div> -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak oe" id="Roundabout_Papers_No_I">Roundabout Papers.—No. I.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="motto">ON A LAZY IDLE BOY.</p> - -<div class="hidescreen"> -<img class="center img50h" src="images/i_124.jpg" alt="I" /> -</div> - -<div> -<img class="drop-cap-i img50" src="images/i_124.jpg" alt="I" /> -</div> -<p class="drop-cap-i">I had occasion to pass a -week in the autumn in -the little old town of -Coire or Chur, in the -Grisons, where lies buried -that very ancient British -king, saint, and martyr, -Lucius,<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> who founded -the Church of St. Peter, -which stands opposite the -house No. 65, Cornhill. -Few people note the -church now-a-days, and -fewer ever heard of the -saint. In the cathedral -at Chur, his statue -appears surrounded by -other sainted persons of -his family. With tight -red breeches, a Roman -habit, a curly brown -beard, and a neat little -gilt crown and sceptre, -he stands, a very comely -and cheerful image: and, -from what I may call his -peculiar position with regard -to No. 65, Cornhill, -I beheld this figure of St. -Lucius with more interest -than I should have bestowed upon personages who, hierarchically, are, I -daresay, his superiors.</p> - -<p class="pt">The pretty little city stands, so to speak, at the end of the world—of -the world of to-day, the world of rapid motion, and rushing railways, and -the commerce and intercourse of men. From the northern gate, the iron -road stretches away to Zürich, to Basel, to Paris, to home. From the old -southern barriers, before which a little river rushes, and around which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[Pg 125]</span> -stretch the crumbling battlements of the ancient town, the road bears the slow -diligence or lagging vetturino by the shallow Rhine, through the awful -gorges of the Via Mala, and presently over the Splügen to the shores -of Como.</p> - -<p class="pt">I have seldom seen a place more quaint, pretty, calm, and pastoral, -than this remote little Chur. What need have the inhabitants for walls -and ramparts, except to build summer-houses, to trail vines, and hang -clothes to dry? No enemies approach the great mouldering gates: only -at morn and even, the cows come lowing past them, the village maidens -chatter merrily round the fountains, and babble like the ever-voluble -stream that flows under the old walls. The schoolboys, with book and -satchel, in smart uniforms, march up to the gymnasium, and return thence -at their stated time. There is one coffee-house in the town, and I see one -old gentleman goes to it. There are shops with no customers seemingly, -and the lazy tradesmen look out of their little windows at the single -stranger sauntering by. There is a stall with baskets of queer little black -grapes and apples, and a pretty brisk trade with half a dozen urchins -standing round. But, beyond this, there is scarce any talk or movement -in the street. There’s nobody at the book-shop. “If you will have the -goodness to come again in an hour,” says the banker, with his mouthful of -dinner at one o’clock, “you can have the money.” There is nobody at the -hotel, save the good landlady, the kind waiters, the brisk young cook who -ministers to you. Nobody is in the Protestant church—(oh! strange sight, -the two confessions are here at peace!)—nobody in the Catholic church: -until the sacristan, from his snug abode in the cathedral close, espies the -traveller eyeing the monsters and pillars before the old shark-toothed arch -of his cathedral, and comes out (with a view to remuneration possibly) -and opens the gate, and shows you the venerable church, and the queer old -relics in the sacristy, and the ancient vestments (a black velvet cope, -amongst other robes, as fresh as yesterday, and presented by that notorious -“pervert,” Henry of Navarre and France), and the statue of St. Lucius, -who built St. Peter’s Church, opposite No. 65, Cornhill.</p> - -<p class="pt">What a quiet, kind, quaint, pleasant, pretty old town! Has it been -asleep these hundreds and hundreds of years, and is the brisk young Prince -of the Sidereal Realms in his screaming car drawn by his snorting steel -elephant coming to waken it? Time was when there must have been life -and bustle and commerce here. Those vast, venerable walls were not -made to keep out cows, but men-at-arms led by fierce captains, who -prowled about the gates, and robbed the traders us they passed in and -out with their bales, their goods, their pack-horses, and their wains. Is -the place so dead that even the clergy of the different denominations can’t -quarrel? Why, seven or eight, or a dozen, or fifteen hundred years -ago (they haven’t the register, over the way, up to that remote period. -I daresay it was burnt in the fire of London)—a dozen hundred years ago, -when there was some life in the town, St. Lucius was stoned here on -account of theological differences, after founding our church in Cornhill.</p> - -<p class="pt"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[Pg 126]</span></p> - -<p class="pt">There was a sweet pretty river walk we used to take in the evening, -and mark the mountains round glooming with a deeper purple; the -shades creeping up the golden walls; the river brawling, the cattle calling, -the maids and chatterboxes round the fountains babbling and bawling; -and several times in the course of our sober walks, we overtook a lazy -slouching boy, or hobbledehoy, with a rusty coat, and trousers not too long, -and big feet trailing lazily one after the other, and large lazy hands -dawdling from out the tight sleeves, and in the lazy hands a little book, -which my lad held up to his face, and which I daresay so charmed and -ravished him, that he was blind to the beautiful sights around him; -unmindful, I would venture to lay any wager, of the lessons he had to -learn for to-morrow; forgetful of mother waiting supper, and father preparing -a scolding;—absorbed utterly and entirely in his book.</p> - -<p class="pt">What was it that so fascinated the young student, as he stood by the -river shore? Not the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Pons Asinorum</span></i>. What book so delighted him, -and blinded him to all the rest of the world, so that he did not care to see -the apple-woman with her fruit, or (more tempting still to sons of Eve) the -pretty girls with their apple cheeks, who laughed and prattled round the -fountain? What was the book? Do you suppose it was Livy, or the -Greek grammar? No; it was a <span class="smcap">Novel</span> that you were reading, you lazy, -not very clean, good-for-nothing, sensible boy! It was D’Artagnan -locking up General Monk in a box, or almost succeeding in keeping -Charles the First’s head on. It was the prisoner of the Château d’If -cutting himself out of the sack fifty feet under water (I mention the novels -I like best myself—novels without love or talking, or any of that sort of nonsense, -but containing plenty of fighting, escaping, robbery, and rescuing)—cutting -himself out of the sack, and swimming to the Island of Montecristo. -O Dumas! O thou brave, kind, gallant old Alexandre! I hereby offer -thee homage, and give thee thanks for many pleasant hours. I have read -thee (being sick in bed) for thirteen hours of a happy day, and had the -ladies of the house fighting for the volumes. Be assured that lazy boy -was reading Dumas (or I will go so far as to let the reader here pronounce -the eulogium, or insert the name of his favourite author); and as for the -anger, or it may be, the reverberations of his schoolmaster, or the remonstrances -of his father, or the tender pleadings of his mother that he should -not let the supper grow cold—I don’t believe the scapegrace cared one fig. -No! Figs are sweet, but fictions are sweeter.</p> - -<p class="pt">Have you ever seen a score of white-bearded, white-robed warriors, or -grave seniors of the city, seated at the gate of Jaffa or Beyrout, and -listening to the story-teller reciting his marvels out of <i>Antar</i> or the -<i>Arabian Nights</i>? I was once present when a young gentleman at table -put a tart away from him, and said to his neighbour, the Younger Son (with -rather a fatuous air), “I never eat sweets.”</p> - -<p class="pt">“Not eat sweets! and do you know why?” says T.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Because I am past that kind of thing,” says the young gentleman.</p> - -<p class="pt">“Because you are a glutton and a sot!” cries the elder (and Juvenis<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[Pg 127]</span> -winces a little). “All people who have natural, healthy appetites, love -sweets; all children, all women, all Eastern people, whose tastes are not -corrupted by gluttony and strong drink.” And a plateful of raspberries -and cream disappeared before the philosopher.</p> - -<p class="pt">You take the allegory? Novels are sweets. All people with healthy -literary appetites love them—almost all women;—a vast number of -clever, hard-headed men. Why, one of the most learned physicians in -England said to me only yesterday, “I have just read <i>So-and-So</i> for -the second time” (naming one of Jones’s exquisite fictions). Judges, -bishops, chancellors, mathematicians are notorious novel readers; as well -as young boys and sweet girls, and their kind, tender mothers. Who -has not read about Eldon, and how he cried over novels every night when -he was not at whist?</p> - -<p class="pt">As for that lazy naughty boy at Chur, I doubt whether <i>he</i> will like -novels when he is thirty years of age. He is taking too great a glut of -them now. He is eating jelly until he will be sick. He will know most -plots by the time he is twenty, so that <i>he</i> will never be surprised when -the Stranger turns out to be the rightful earl,—when the old waterman, -throwing off his beggarly gabardine, shows his stars and the collars of his -various orders, and clasping Antonia to his bosom, proves himself to be -the prince, her long-lost father. He will recognize the novelists’ same -characters, though they appear in red-heeled pumps and <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ailes-de-pigeon</span></i>, or -the garb of the nineteenth century. He will get weary of sweets, as boys -of private schools grow (or used to grow, for I have done growing some -little time myself, and the practice may have ended too)—as private schoolboys -used to grow tired of the pudding before their mutton at dinner.</p> - -<p class="pt">And pray what is the moral of this apologue? The moral I take to be -this: the appetite for novels extending to the end of the world;—far -away in the frozen deep, the sailors reading them to one another during -the endless night;—far away under the Syrian stars, the solemn sheikhs -and elders hearkening to the poet as he recites his tales;—far away in the -Indian camps, where the soldiers listen to ——’s tales, or ——’s, after the -hot day’s march;—far away in little Chur yonder, where the lazy boy -pores over the fond volume, and drinks it in with all his eyes;—the demand -being what we know it is, the merchant must supply it, as he will supply -saddles and pale ale for Bombay or Calcutta.</p> - -<p class="pt">But as surely as the cadet drinks too much pale ale, it will disagree -with him; and so surely, dear youth, will too much novels cloy on thee. -I wonder, do novel writers themselves read many novels? If you go into -Gunter’s, you don’t see those charming young ladies (to whom I present -my most respectful compliments) eating tarts and ices, but at the proper -evening-tide they have good plain wholesome tea and bread-and-butter. -Can anybody tell me does the author of the <i>Tale of two Cities</i> read novels? -does the author of the <i>Tower of London</i> devour romances? does the -dashing <i>Harry Lorrequer</i> delight in <i>Plain or Ringlets</i> or <i>Sponge’s Sporting -Tour</i>? Does the veteran, from whose flowing pen we had the books which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[Pg 128]</span> -delighted our young days, <i>Darnley</i>, and <i>Richelieu</i>, and <i>Delorme</i><a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> relish the -works of Alexandre the Great, and thrill over the <i>Three Musqueteers</i>? -Does the accomplished author of the <i>Caxtons</i> read the other tales in <i>Blackwood</i>? -(For example, that ghost-story printed last August, and which for -my part, though I read it in the public reading-room at the Pavilion Hotel -at Folkestone, I protest frightened me so that I scarce dared look over my -shoulder.) Does <i>Uncle Tom</i> admire <i>Adam Bede</i>; and does the author of -the <i>Vicar of Wrexhill</i> laugh over the <i>Warden</i> and the <i>Three Clerks</i>? -Dear youth of ingenuous countenance and ingenuous pudor! I make no -doubt that the eminent parties above named all partake of novels in -moderation—eat jellies—but mainly nourish themselves upon wholesome -roast and boiled.</p> - -<p class="pt">Here, dear youth aforesaid! our <span class="smcap">Cornhill Magazine</span> owners strive -to provide thee with facts as well as fiction; and though it does not -become them to brag of their Ordinary, at least they invite thee to a -table where thou shall sit in good company. That story of the <i>Fox</i> was -written by one of the gallant seamen who sought for poor Franklin under -the awful Arctic Night: that account of China is told by the man of all -the empire most likely to know of what he speaks: those pages regarding -Volunteers come from an honoured hand that has borne the sword in a -hundred famous fields, and pointed the British guns in the greatest siege in -the world.</p> - -<p class="pt">Shall we point out others? We are fellow-travellers, and shall make -acquaintance as the voyage proceeds. In the Atlantic steamers, on the -first day out (and on high and holidays subsequently), the jellies set -down on table are richly ornamented; <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">medioque in fonte leporum</span></i> rise the -American and British flags nobly emblazoned in tin. As the passengers -remark this pleasing phenomenon, the Captain no doubt improves the -occasion by expressing a hope, to his right and left, that the flag of Mr. Bull -and his younger Brother may always float side by side in friendly emulation. -Novels having been previously compared to jellies—here are two (one -perhaps not entirely saccharine, and flavoured with an <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">amari aliquid</span></i> very -distasteful to some palates)—two novels under two flags, the one that ancient -ensign which has hung before the well-known booth of <i>Vanity Fair</i>; the -other that fresh and handsome standard which has lately been hoisted on -<i>Barchester Towers</i>. Pray, sir, or madam, to which dish will you be helped?</p> - -<p class="pt">So have I seen my friends Captain Lang and Captain Comstock press -their guests to partake of the fare on that memorable “First day out,” -when there is no man, I think, who sits down but asks a blessing on his -voyage, and the good ship dips over the bar, and bounds away into the -blue water.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> Stow quotes the inscription, still extant, “from the table fast chained in St. Peter’s -Church, Cornhill;” and says “he was after some chronicle buried at London, and after -some chronicle buried at Glowcester”—but oh! these incorrect chroniclers! when Alban -Butler, in the <i>Lives of the Saints</i>, v. xii., and Murray’s <i>Handbook</i>, and the Sacristan at -Chur, all say Lucius was killed there, and I saw his tomb with my own eyes!</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> By the way, what a strange fate is that which has befallen the veteran novelist! -He is her Majesty’s Consul-General in Venice, the only city in Europe where the -famous “Two Cavaliers” cannot by any possibility be seen riding together.</p></div></div> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> - -<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>The following changes have been made:</p> - -<p class="tn">A table of contents has been added for the convenience of the reader.</p> - -<p class="tn">Some illustrations have been moved outside the enclosing paragraphs.</p> - -<p class="tn">Changed <b>dorekie</b> to <b>dovekie</b> in -“saw a solitary dovekie in winter plumage” -on page <a href="#TN105A">105</a>.</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNHILL MAGAZINE, VOL. 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