diff options
Diffstat (limited to '76973-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 76973-0.txt | 9501 |
1 files changed, 9501 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/76973-0.txt b/76973-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cb39c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/76973-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9501 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76973 *** + + + + + + BLACKWOOD’S + EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. + NO. CCCCLIV. AUGUST, 1853. VOL. LXXIV. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + THE NARCOTICS WE INDULGE IN, 129 + SOUTH AMERICAN TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE, 140 + NAPOLEON AND SIR HUDSON LOWE, 159 + NEW READINGS IN SHAKESPEARE, 181 + THE INSURRECTION IN CHINA, 203 + LADY LEE’S WIDOWHOOD—PART VIII., 220 + THE MARQUIS DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN—FRANCE IN 1853, 245 + + EDINBURGH: + WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS, 45 GEORGE STREET; + AND 37 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON. + + _To whom all communications (post paid) must be addressed._ + + SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. + + PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH. + + + + + BLACKWOOD’S + + EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. + + NO. CCCCLIV. AUGUST, 1853. VOL. LXXIV. + + + + + THE NARCOTICS WE INDULGE IN.[1][2] + + +When a distinguished man sinks into his grave, from the midst of many +rivals in a common race, the strife of opinions in reference to him is +instantaneously allayed; personal feelings, if not quenched, are +repressed and hushed; and, like the heroism of the triumphant warrior, +when he is caught by the anxious eye emerging unscathed from the battle +and the smoke, his merits appear now unclouded and confessed. Such, we +believe, is the general feeling among the members of his own profession +in regard to the author of the valuable work now before us. Snatched +suddenly from the midst of his labours, before the third edition of his +_Materia Medica_ was completed, there are few in any way familiar with +the subject who will not regret the sudden extinction of so much +learning, and, apart from all private considerations, that the world +should have so prematurely lost the benefits of his ripening judgment +and experience, and the results of his extended reading and research. +Yet how many precious cabinets of collected knowledge do we see thus +hurriedly sealed up for ever! How often, when a man appears to have +reached that condition of mental culture and accumulated information, in +which he is fitted to do the most for the advancement of learning, or +for promoting the material comfort of his fellows, how often does the +cold hand suddenly and mysteriously paralyse and stop him! He has been +permitted to add only a small burden of earth to the rising mound of +intellectual elevation, scarcely enough to signify to after-comers that +_his_ hand has laboured at the work. Nevertheless, he may have shown a +new way of advancing, in some sense, so that to others the toil is +easier and the progress faster, because he has gone before. The more, +however, the true-hearted worker in the cause of progressive science +becomes familiar with its actual condition and its great future, the +more he becomes satisfied also of the vanity of attempting to associate +with an individual name the merit of this or that advance—the more +earnestly he trains himself to find the best reward for individual +attempts in the growing conquests and dimensions of the field he +cultivates, and in the consciousness that he has not been unhelpful in +widening its domain. Such a consciousness Dr Pereira might well +entertain, and we trust he found in it something to alleviate the +regrets the best of us naturally feel, when compelled to leave a +favourite task unfinished. + +We should be forsaking widely the field we usually occupy, were we to +attempt to lay before our readers any analysis of a work so elaborate +and so purely professional as this of Dr Pereira. We propose, however, +to take it as our text-book, in considering a subject of great general +interest—one scarcely of more importance to the professional physician +than it is to the physiologist, the psychologist, and the economical +statist. The book is replete with scattered information on the subject +of the _Narcotics we Indulge in_, and some of this we propose to bring +together in the present article. And among other sources from which we +mean to draw the materials necessary to our purpose, are the +_Confessions of an English Opium-Eater_, long, long ago noticed in our +pages, but, to us who have been reading it to-day, as fresh and new as +ever—as full of interest, as suggestive of profound reflection. We who +are ourselves somewhat scientific, can scarce restrain a selfish sigh +when we think how fresh and new, how sure of human sympathy this actual +burning experience of a living man will continue to be when the heavy +and toilsome tomes of Pereira shall have become mere records of the +progress of science, and be turned up only to illustrate the ignorance +of the most learned or trusted in their professions about the middle of +the nineteenth century. + +In ministering fully to his natural wants, man passes through three +successive stages. First, the necessities of his material existence are +provided for; next, his cares are assuaged and for the time banished; +and lastly, his enjoyments, intellectual and animal, are multiplied and +for the time exalted. Beef and bread represent the means by which, in +every country, the first end is attained; fermented liquors help us to +the second; and the third we reach by the aid of narcotics. + +When we examine, in a chemical sense, the animal and vegetable +productions which in a thousand varied forms, among various nations, +take the place of the beef and pudding of the Englishman in supplying +the first necessities of our nature, we are struck with the remarkable +general similarity which prevails among them naturally, or which they +are made to assume by the artifices of cookery, before they are conveyed +into the stomach. And we exclaim, in irrepressible wonder, “by what +universal instinct is it that, under so many varied conditions of +climate and of natural vegetation, the experience of man has led him +everywhere so nicely to adjust the chemical constitution of the staple +forms of his diet to the chemical wants of his living body?” + +Nor is the lightening of care less widely and extensively attained. +Savage and civilised tribes, near and remote—the houseless barbarian +wanderer, the settled peasant, and the skilled citizen—all have found, +without intercommunion, through some common and instinctive process, the +art of preparing fermented drinks, and of procuring for themselves the +enjoyments and miseries of intoxication. The juice of the cocoa-nut tree +yields its _toddy_ wherever this valuable palm can be made to grow. +Another palm affords a fermented wine on the Andean slopes of Chili—the +sugar palm intoxicates in the Indian Archipelago, and among the Moluccas +and Philippines—while the best palm wine of all is prepared from the sap +of the oilpalms of the African coast. In Mexico the American aloe +(_Agave Americana_) gave its much-loved _pulque_, and probably also its +ardent brandy, long before Cortez invaded the ancient monarchy of the +Aztecs. Fruits supply the cider, the perry and the wine, of many +civilised regions—barley and the cereal grains the beer and brandy of +others; while the milk of their breeding mares supplies at will to the +wandering Tartar, either a mild exhilarating drink, or an ardently +intoxicating spirit. And to our wonder at the wide prevalence of this +taste, and our surprise at the success with which, in so many different +ways, mankind has been able to gratify it, the chemist adds a new wonder +and surprise when he tells us, that as in the case of his food, so in +preparing his intoxicating drinks, man has everywhere come to the same +result. His fermented liquors, wherever and from whatever substances +prepared, all contain the same exciting alcohol, producing everywhere, +upon every human being, the same exhilarating effects! + +It is somewhat different as regards the next stage of human wants—the +exalted stage which we arrive at by the aid of narcotics. Of these +narcotics, it is remarkable that almost every country or tribe has its +own—either aboriginal or imported—so that the universal instinct has led +somehow or other to the universal supply of this want also. + +The aborigines of Central America rolled up the tobacco leaf, and +dreamed away their lives in smoky reveries, ages before Columbus was +born, or the colonists of Sir Walter Raleigh brought it within the +chaste precincts of the Elizabethan court. The coca leaf, now the +comfort and strength of the Peruvian muletero, was chewed as _he_ does +it, in far remote times, and among the same mountains, by the Indian +natives whose blood he inherits. The use of opium and hemp, and the +betel nut, among eastern Asiatics, mounts up to the times of most +fabulous antiquity, as probably does that of the pepper tribe in the +South Sea Islands and the Indian archipelago; while in northern Europe +the hop, and in Tartary the narcotic fungus, have been in use from time +immemorial. In all these countries the wished-for end has been attained, +as in the case of intoxicating drinks, by different means; but the +precise effect upon the system, by the use of each substance, has not, +in this case, been the same. On the contrary, tobacco, and coca, and +opium, and hemp, and the hop, and _Cocculus indicus_, and the toadstool, +each exercise an influence upon the human frame, which is peculiar to +itself, and which in many respects is full of interest, and deserving of +profound study. These differences we so far know to arise from the +active substances they severally contain being chemically different. + + +I. TOBACCO.—Of all the narcotics we have mentioned, tobacco is in use +over the largest area, and by the greatest number of people. Opium comes +next to it; and the hemp plant occupies the third place. + +The tobacco plant is indigenous to tropical America, whence it was +introduced into Spain and France in the beginning of the sixteenth +century by the Spaniards, and into England half a century later (1586) +by Sir Francis Drake. Since that time, both the use and the cultivation +of the plant have spread over a large portion of the globe. Besides the +different parts of America, including Canada, New Brunswick, the United +States, Mexico, the Western coast, the Spanish main, Brazil, Cuba, St +Domingo, Trinidad, &c., it has spread in the East into Turkey, Persia, +India, China, Australia, the Philippine Islands, and Japan. It has been +raised with success also in nearly every country of Europe; while in +Africa it is cultivated in Egypt, Algeria, in the Canaries, on the +Western coast, and at the Cape of Good Hope. It is, indeed, among +narcotics, what the potato is among food-plants—the most extensively +cultivated, the most hardy, and the most tolerant of changes in +temperature, altitude, and general climate. + +We need scarcely remark, that the use of the plant has become not less +universal than its cultivation. In America it is met with everywhere, +and the consumption is enormous. In Europe, from the plains of sunny +Castile to the frozen Archangel, the pipe and the cigar are a common +solace among all ranks and conditions. In vain was the use of it +prohibited in Russia, and the knout threatened for the first offence, +and death for the second. In vain Pope Urban VIII. thundered out his +bull against it. In vain our own James I. wrote his “Counterblaste to +Tobacco.” Opposition only excited more general attention to the plant, +awakened curiosity regarding it, and promoted its consumption. + +So in the East—the priests and sultans of Turkey and Persia declared +smoking a sin against their holy religion, yet nevertheless the Turks +and Persians became the greatest smokers in the world. In Turkey the +pipe is perpetually in the mouth; in India all classes and both sexes +smoke; in China the practice is so universal that “every female, from +the age of eight or nine years, wears as an appendage to her dress a +small silken pocket, to hold tobacco and a pipe.” It is even argued by +Pallas that the extensive prevalence of the practice in Asia, and +especially in China, proves the use of tobacco for smoking to be more +ancient than the discovery of the New World. “Amongst the Chinese,” he +says, “and amongst the Mongol tribes who had the most intercourse with +them, the custom of smoking is so general, so frequent, and has become +so indispensable a luxury; the tobacco purse affixed to their belt so +necessary an article of dress; the form of the pipes, from which the +Dutch seem to have taken the model of theirs, so original; and, lastly, +the preparation of the yellow leaves, which are merely rubbed to pieces +and then put into the pipe, so peculiar—that they could not possibly +derive all this from America by way of Europe, especially as India, +where the practice of smoking is not so general, intervenes between +Persia and China.”[3] + +Leaving this question of its origin, the reader will not be surprised, +when he considers how widely the practice of smoking prevails, that the +total produce of tobacco grown on the face of the globe has been +calculated by Mr Crawford to amount to the enormous quantity of two +millions of tons. The comparative magnitude of this quantity will strike +the reader more forcibly, when we state that the whole of the wheat +consumed by the inhabitants of Great Britain—estimating it at a quarter +a-head, or in round numbers at twenty millions of quarters—weighs only +four and one-third millions of tons; so that the tobacco yearly raised +for the gratification of this one form of the narcotic appetite weighs +as much as the wheat consumed by ten millions of Englishmen. And +reckoning it at only double the market value of wheat, or twopence and a +fraction per pound, it is worth in money as much as all the wheat eaten +in Great Britain. + +The largest producers, and probably the largest consumers, of tobacco, +are the United States of America. The annual production, at the last two +decennial periods of their census returns, was estimated at + + 1840, 219,163,319 lb. + 1850, 199,752,646 „ + +being about one-twentieth part of the whole supposed produce of the +globe. + +One of the remarkable circumstances connected with the history of +tobacco is, the rapidity with which its growth and consumption have +increased, in almost every country, since the discovery of America. In +1662, the quantity raised in Virginia—the chief producer of tobacco on +the American shores of the Atlantic—was only 60,000 lb.; and the +quantity exported from that colony in 1689, only 120,000 lb. In two +hundred and thirty years, the produce has risen to nearly twice as many +millions. And the extension of its use in our own country may be +inferred from the facts that, in the above year of 1689, the total +importation was 120,000 lb. of Virginian tobacco, part of which was +probably re-exported; while, in 1852, the quantity entered for home +consumption amounted to + + 28,558,753 lb. + +being something over a pound per head of the whole population; and to +this must be added the large quantity of contraband tobacco, which the +heavy duty of 3s. per lb. tempts the smuggler to introduce. The whole +duty levied on the above quantity in 1852, was £4,560,741, which is +equal to a poll-tax of 3s. a head. + +Tobacco, as every child among us now knows, is used for smoking, for +chewing, and for snuffing. The second of these practices is, in many +respects, the most disgusting, and is now rarely seen in this country, +except among seafaring men. On shipboard, smoking is always dangerous, +and often forbidden; while snuffing is expensive and inconvenient; so +that, if the weed must be used, the practice of chewing it can alone be +resorted to. + +For the smoker and chewer it is prepared in various forms, and sold +under different names. The dried leaves, coarsely broken, are sold as +canaster or knaster. When moistened, compressed, and cut into fine +threads, they form cut or shag tobacco. Moistened with molasses or with +syrup, and pressed into cakes, they are called cavendish and negrohead, +and are used indifferently either for chewing or smoking. Moistened in +the same way, and beaten until they are soft, and then twisted into a +thick string, they form the pigtail or twist of the chewer. Cigars are +formed of the dried leaves, deprived of their midribs, and rolled up +into a short spindle. When cut straight, or truncated at each end, as is +the custom at Manilla, they are distinguished as _cheroots_. + +For the snuff-taker, the dried leaves are sprinkled with water, laid in +heaps, and allowed to ferment. They are then dried again, reduced to +powder, and baked or roasted. The dry snuffs, like the Scotch and Irish, +are usually prepared from the midribs—the rappees, or moist snuffs, from +the soft part of the leaves. The latter are also variously scented, to +suit the taste of the customer. + +Extensively as it is used, it is surprising how very few can state +distinctly the effects which tobacco produces—can explain the kind of +pleasure the use of it gives them—why they began, and for what reason +they continue the indulgence. In truth, few have thought of these +points—have cared to analyse their sensations when under the narcotic +influence of tobacco—or, if they have analysed them, would care to tell +truly what kind of relief it is which they seek in the use of it. “In +habitual smokers,” says Dr Pereira, “the practice, when employed +moderately, provokes thirst, increases the secretion of saliva, and +produces a remarkably soothing and tranquillising effect on the mind, +which has made it so much admired and adopted by all classes of society, +and by all nations, civilised and barbarous.” Taken in excess in any +form, and especially by persons unaccustomed to it, it produces nausea, +vomiting, in some cases purging, universal trembling, staggering, +convulsive movements, paralysis, torpor, and death. Cases are on record +of persons killing themselves by smoking seventeen or eighteen pipes at +a sitting. With some constitutions it never agrees; but both our author +and Dr Christison of Edinburgh agree that “no well-ascertained ill +effects have been shown to result from the habitual practice of +smoking.” The effects of chewing are of a similar kind. Those of +snuffing are only less in degree; and the influence which tobacco +exercises in the mouth, in promoting the flow of saliva, &c., manifests +itself when used as snuff in producing sneezing, and in increasing the +discharge of mucus from the nose. The excessive use of snuff, however, +blunts the sense of smell, alters the tone of voice, and occasionally +produces dyspepsia and loss of appetite. In rarer cases it ultimately +induces apoplexy and delirium. + +But it is the soothing and tranquillising effect it has on the mind for +which tobacco is chiefly indulged in. And amid the teasing paltry cares, +as well as the more poignant griefs of life, what a blessing that a mere +material soother and tranquilliser can be found, accessible alike to +all—to the desolate and the outcast, equally with him who is rich in a +happy home and the felicity of sympathising friends! Is there any one so +sunk in happiness himself, as to wonder that millions of the +world-chafed should flee to it for solace? Yet the question still +remains which is to bring out the peculiar characteristic of tobacco. We +may take for granted that it acts in some way upon the nervous system; +but what is the special effect of tobacco on the brain and nerves, to +which the pleasing reverie it produces is to be ascribed? “The pleasure +of the reverie consequent on the indulgence of the pipe consists,” +according to Dr Madden, “in a temporary annihilation of thought. People +really cease to think when they have been long smoking. I have asked +Turks repeatedly what they have been thinking of during their long +smoking reveries, and they replied, ‘Of nothing.’ I could not remind +them of a single idea having occupied their minds; and in the +consideration of the Turkish character there is no more curious +circumstance connected with their moral condition. The opinion of Locke, +that the soul of a waking man is never without thought, because it is +the condition of being awake, is, in my mind, contradicted by the waking +somnambulism, if I may so express myself, of a Moslem.”[4] + +We concede that Dr Madden might find in England, in Germany, and in +Holland, many good smokers, who would make excellent Moslems in his +sense, and who at the close of long tobacco reveries are utterly +unconscious and innocent of a single thought. Yet we restrict our faith +in his opinion to the simple belief, that tobacco, with a haze such as +its smoke creates, tends to soften down and assuage the intensity of all +inner thoughts or external impressions which affect the feelings, and +thus to create a still and peaceful repose—such a quiet rest as one +fancies might be found in the hazy distance of Turner’s landscapes. We +deny that, in Europeans in general, smoking puts an end to intellectual +exertion. In moderation, our own experience is, that it sharpens and +strengthens it; and we doubt very much if those learned Teutonic +Professors, who smoke all day, whose studies are perpetually obscured by +the fumes of the weed, and who are even said to smoke during sleep, +would willingly, or with good temper, concede that the heavy tomes which +in yearly thousands appear at the Leipsic book fair, have all been +written after their authors had “really ceased to think.” Still it is +probably true, and may be received as the characteristic of tobacco +among narcotics, that its major and first effect is to assuage, and +allay, and soothe the system in general; its minor, and second, or after +effect, to excite and invigorate, and, at the same time, give steadiness +and fixity to the powers of thought. + +The active substances, or chemical ingredients of tobacco or tobacco +smoke, by which these effects upon the system are produced, are three in +number. The _first_ is a volatile oil, of which about two grains can be +obtained from a pound of leaves, by distilling them with water. This oil +or fat “is solid, has the odour of tobacco, and a bitter taste. It +excites in the tongue and throat a sensation similar to that of tobacco +smoke; and, when swallowed, gives rise to giddiness, nausea, and an +inclination to vomit.” Small as the quantity is, therefore, which is +present in the leaf, this substance must be regarded as one of the +ingredients upon which the effects of tobacco depend. + +The _second_ is a volatile _alkali_, as it is called by chemists, which +is also obtained by a form of distillation. The substance is liquid, has +the odour of tobacco, an acrid burning taste, and is possessed of +narcotic and highly poisonous qualities. In this latter quality it is +scarcely inferior to Prussic acid. The proportion of this substance +contained in the leaf varies from 3 to 8 per cent, so that he who smokes +a hundred grains of tobacco _may_ draw into his mouth from three to +eight grains of one of the most subtle of all known poisons. It will not +be doubted, therefore, that some of the effects of tobacco are to be +ascribed to this peculiar substance. + +The third is an oil—an empyreumatic oil, it is called—which does not +exist ready formed in the natural leaf, but is produced along with other +substances during the burning. This is supposed to be “the juice of +cursed hebenon,” described by Shakspeare as a _distilment_.[5] It is +acrid, disagreeable to the taste, narcotic, and so poisonous that a +single drop on the tongue of a cat causes immediate convulsions, and in +two minutes death. + +Of these three active ingredients contained in tobacco smoke, the +Turkish and Indian pipes, in which the smoke is made to pass slowly +through water, arrest a large proportion, and therefore convey the air +to the mouth in a milder form. The reservoir of the German meerschaums +retains the grosser portions of the oils, &c., produced by burning; and +the long stem of the Russian pipe has a similar effect. The Dutch and +English pipes retain less; while the cigar, especially when smoked to +the end, discharges everything into the mouth of the smoker, and, when +he retains the saliva, gives him the benefit of the united action of all +the three narcotic substances together. It is not surprising, therefore, +that those who have been accustomed to smoke cigars, especially such as +are made of strong tobacco, should find any other pipe both tame and +tasteless, except the short black _cutty_, which has lately come into +favour again among inveterate smokers. + +The chewer of tobacco, it will be understood from the above description +of its active ingredients, is not exposed to the effects of the oil +which is produced during the burning. The natural oil and the volatile +alkali are the substances which act upon him. The taker of snuff is in +the same condition. But _his_ drug is still milder than that of the +chewer, inasmuch as the artificial drying or roasting to which the +tobacco is subjected in the preparation of snuff, drives off a portion +of the natural volatile oil, and a large part of the volatile alkali, +and thus renders it considerably less active than the natural leaf. + +In all the properties by which tobacco is characterised, the produce of +different countries and districts is found to exhibit very sensible +differences. At least eight or ten species, and numerous varieties, of +the plant are cultivated; and the leaf of each of these, even where they +are all grown in the same locality, is found to exhibit sensible +peculiarities. To these climate and soil add each its special effects; +while the period of growth at which the leaves are gathered, and the way +in which they are dried or cured, exercise a well-known influence on the +quality of the crop. To these causes of diversity is owing, for the most +part, the unlike estimation in which Virginian, Cuban, Brazilian, +Peruvian, East Indian, Persian, and Turkish tobaccos are held in the +market. + +The chemist explains all the known and well-marked diversities of +quality and flavour in the unadulterated leaf, by showing that each +recognised variety of tobacco contains the active ingredients of the +leaf in a peculiar form or proportion; and it is interesting to find +science in his hands first rendering satisfactory reasons for the +decisions of taste. Thus, he has shown that the natural volatile oil +does not exist in the green leaf, but is formed during the drying, and +hence the reason why the mode of curing affects the strength and quality +of the dried leaf. He has also shown that the proportion of the +poisonous alkali (nicotin) is smallest (2 per cent) in the best +Havannah, and largest (7 per cent) in the Virginian tobacco, and hence a +natural and sound reason for the preference given to the former by the +smokers of cigars. + +As to the lesser niceties of flavour, this probably depends upon other +odoriferous ingredients not so active in their nature, or so essential +to the leaf as those already mentioned. The leaves of plants, in this +respect, are easily affected by a variety of circumstances, and +especially by the nature of the soil they grow in, and of the manure +applied to them. Even to the grosser senses of us Europeans, it is +known, for example, that pigs’ dung carries its _gout_ into the tobacco +raised by its means. But the more refined organs of the Druses and +Maronites of Mount Lebanon readily recognise, by the flavour of their +tobacco, the kind of manure employed in its cultivation, and esteem, +above all others, that which has been aided in its growth by the +droppings of the goat. + +But in countries where high duties upon tobacco hold out a temptation to +fraud, artificial flavours are given by various forms of adulteration. +“Saccharine matter (molasses, sugar, honey, &c.), which is the principal +adulterating ingredient, is said to be used both for the purpose of +adding to the weight of the tobacco, and of rendering it more agreeable. +Vegetable leaves (as those of rhubarb and the beech), mosses, bran, the +sproutings of malt, beet-root dregs, liquorice, terra japonica, rosin, +yellow ochre, fullers’ earth, sand, saltpetre, common salt, +sal-ammoniac”[6]—such is a list of the substances which have been +detected in adulterated tobacco. How many more may be in daily use for +the purpose, who can tell? Is it surprising, therefore, that we should +meet with manufactured tobacco possessing a thousand different flavours +for which the chemistry of the natural leaf can in no way account? + +There are two other circumstances in connection with the history of +tobacco, which, because of their economical and social bearings, are +possessed of much interest. + +_First_, Every smoker must have observed the quantity of ash he has +occasion to empty out of his pipe, or the large nozzle he knocks off +from time to time from the burning end of his cigar. This incombustible +part is equal to one-fourth or one-fifth of the whole weight of the +dried leaf, and consists of earthy or mineral matter which the tobacco +plant has drawn from the soil on which it has grown. Every ton, when +dried, of the tobacco leaf which is gathered, carries off, therefore, +from four to five hundredweight of this mineral matter from the soil. +And as the substances of which the mineral matter consists are among +those which are at once most necessary to vegetation, and least abundant +even in fertile soils, it will readily be understood that the frequent +growth and removal of tobacco from the same field must gradually affect +its fertility, and sooner or later exhaust it. + +It has been, and still is, to a great extent, the misfortune of many +tobacco-growing regions, that this simple deduction was unknown and +unheeded. The culture has been continued year after year upon virgin +soils, till the best and richest were at last wearied and worn out, and +patches of deserted wilderness are at length seen where tobacco +plantations formerly extended and flourished. Upon the Atlantic borders +of the United States of America, the best known modern instances of such +exhausting culture are to be found. It is one of the triumphs of the +chemistry of this century, that it has ascertained what the land loses +by such imprudent treatment—what is the cause, therefore, of the +barrenness that befalls it, and by what new management its ancient +fertility may be again restored. + +_Second_, It is melancholy to think that the gratification of this +narcotic instinct of man should in some countries—and especially in +North America, Cuba, and Brazil—have become a source of human misery in +its most aggravated forms. It was long ago remarked of the tobacco +culture by President Jefferson, in his _Notes on Virginia_, that “it is +a culture productive of infinite wretchedness. Those employed in it are +in a continued state of exertion beyond the powers of nature to support. +Little food of any kind is raised by them, so that the men and animals +on these farms are badly fed, and the earth is rapidly impoverished.”[7] +But these words do not convey to the English reader a complete idea of +the misery they allude to. The men employed in the culture, who suffer +the “infinite wretchedness,” are the slaves on the plantations. And it +is melancholy, as we have said, to think that the gratification of the +passion for tobacco should not only have been an early stimulus to the +extension of slavery in the United States, but should continue still to +be one of the props by which it is sustained. The exports of tobacco +from the United States in the year ending June 1850, were valued at ten +millions of dollars. This sum European smokers pay for the maintenance +of slavery in these states, besides what they contribute for the same +purpose to Cuba and Brazil. The practice of smoking is in itself, we +believe, neither a moral nor a social evil; it is merely the +gratification of a natural and universal, as it is an innocent instinct. +Pity that such evils should be permitted to flow from what is in itself +so harmless! + +II. The HOP, which may now be called the _English narcotic_, was brought +from the Low Countries, and is not known to have been used in malt +liquor in this country till after the year 1524, in the reign of Henry +VIII. In 1850 the quantity of hops grown in England was 21,668 tons, +paying a duty of £270,000. This is supposed to be a larger quantity than +is grown in all the world besides. Only 98 tons were exported in that +year; while, on the other hand, 320 tons were imported, so that the home +consumption amounted to 21,886 tons, or 49 millions of pounds; being +two-thirds more than the weight of the tobacco which we yearly consume. +It is the narcotic substance, therefore, of which England not only grows +more and consumes more than all the world besides, but of which +Englishmen consume more than they do of any other substance of the same +class. + +And who that has visited the hop grounds of Kent and Surrey in the +flowering season, will ever forget the beauty and grace of this charming +plant? Climbing the tall poles, and circling them with its clasping +tendrils, it hides the formality and stiffness of the tree that supports +it among the exuberant profusion of its clustering flowers. Waving and +drooping in easy motion with every tiny breath that stirs them, and +hanging in curved wreaths from pole to pole, the hopbines dance and +glitter beneath the bright English sun—the picture of a true English +vineyard, which neither the Rhine nor the Rhone can equal, and only +Italy, where her vines climb the freest, can surpass. + +The hop “joyeth in a fat and fruitful ground,” as old Gerard hath it +(1596). “It prospereth the better by manuring.” And few spots surpass, +either in natural fertility or in artificial richness, the hop lands of +Surrey, which lie along the out-crop of the green sand measures in the +neighbourhood of Farnham. Naturally rich to an extraordinary degree in +the mineral food of plants, the soils in this locality have been famed +for centuries for the growth of hops; and with a view to this culture +alone, at the present day, the best portions sell as high as £500 an +acre. And the _highest_ Scotch farmer—the most liberal of manure—will +find himself outdone by the hop-growers of Kent and Surrey. An average +of ten pounds an acre for manure over a hundred acres of hops, makes +this branch of farming the most liberal, the most remarkable, and the +most expensive of any in England. + +This mode of managing the hop, and the peculiar value and rarity of hop +land, were known very early. They form parts of its history which were +probably imported with the plant itself. Tusser, who lived in Henry +VIII.’s time, and in the reigns of his three children, in his _Points of +Husbandry_ thus speaks of the hop:— + + “Choose soil for the hop of the rottenest mould, + Well-doonged and wrought as a garden-plot should: + Not far from the water (but not overfloune), + This lesson well noted, is meet to be knowne. + + The sun in the south, or else southlie and west, + Is joy to the hop as welcommed ghest; + But wind in the north, or else northerly east, + To hop is as ill as fray in a feast. + + Meet plot for a hop-yard, once found as is told, + Make thereof account, as of jewel of gold; + Now dig it and leave it, the sun for to burne, + And afterwards fense it, to serve for that turne. + The hop for his profit, I thus do exalt: + It strengthened drink, and favoureth malt; + And being well brewed, long kep it will last, + And drawing abide, if ye draw not too fast.”[8] + +The hops of commerce consist of the female flowers and seeds of the +_humulus lupulus_, or common hop plant. Their principal consumption is +in the manufacture of beer, to which they give a pleasant, bitter, +aromatic flavour, and tonic properties. Part of the soporific quality of +beer also is ascribed to the hops, and they are supposed by their +chemical properties to check the tendency to become sour. The active +principles in the hop consist of a volatile oil, and a peculiar bitter +principle to which the name of _lupulin_ is given. + +When the hop flowers are distilled with water, they yield as much as +eight per cent of their weight of a volatile oil, which has a brownish +yellow colour, a strong smell of hops, and a slightly bitter taste. In +this “oil of hops” it has hitherto been supposed that a portion of the +narcotic influence of the flowers resided, but recent experiments render +this opinion doubtful. It is probable that in the case both of tobacco +and of the hop, a volatile substance distils over in small quantity +along with the oil, which has not hitherto been examined separately, and +in which the narcotic virtue resides. This is rendered probable by the +fact that the rectified hop oil is not possessed of narcotic properties. + +The hop has long been celebrated for its sleep-giving qualities. To the +weary and wakeful, the hop-pillow has often given refreshing rest, when +every other sleep-producer had failed. It is to the escape, in minute +quantity, of the volatile narcotic substance we have spoken of, that +this soporific effect of the flowers is most probably to be ascribed. + +Besides the oil and other volatile matter which distil from them, the +hop flowers, and especially the fine powdery grains or dust which, by +rubbing, can be separated from them, yield to alcohol a bitter principle +(lupulin) and a resinous substance, both in considerable proportion. In +a common tincture of hops these substances are contained. They are +aromatic and tonic, and impart their own qualities to our beer. They are +also soothing, tranquillising, and in a slight degree sedative and +soporific, in which properties well-hopped beer also resembles them. It +is certain that hops possess a narcotic virtue which beer derives from +them;[9] but in what part of the female flower, or in what peculiar +chemical compound this narcotic property chiefly resides, is still a +matter of doubt. + +To the general reader it may appear remarkable, that the chemistry of a +vegetable production, in such extensive use as the hop, should still be +so imperfect—our knowledge of its nature and composition so +unsatisfactory. But the well-read chemist, who knows how wide the field +of chemical research is, and how rapidly our knowledge of it, as a +whole, is progressing, will feel no surprise. He may wish to see all +such obscurities and difficulties cleared away, but he will feel +inclined rather to thank and praise the many ardent and devoted men, now +labouring in this department, for what they are doing, than to blame +them for being obliged to leave a part of the extensive field for the +present uncultivated. + +Among largely used narcotics, therefore, especially in England, the hop +is to be placed. It differs, however, from all the others we have +mentioned, in being rarely employed alone except medicinally. It is +added to infusions like that of malt, to impart flavour, taste, and +narcotic virtues. Used in this way, it is unquestionably one of the +sources of that pleasing excitement, gentle intoxication, and healthy +tonic action, which well-hopped beer is known to produce upon those who +drink it. Other common vegetable productions will give the bitter +flavour to malt liquor. Horehound and wormwood, and gentian and quassia +and strychnia, and the grains of paradise, and chicory, and various +other plants, have been used to replace or supplant the hop. But none +are known to approach it in imparting those peculiar qualities which +have given the bitter beer of the present day so well-merited a +reputation. + +Among our working classes, it is true, in the porters and humbler beers +they consume and prefer, the _Cocculus indicus_ finds a degree of favour +which has caused it, to a considerable degree, to take the place of the +hop. This singular berry possesses an intoxicating property, and not +only replaces the hop by its bitterness, but to a certain extent also +supplies the deficiency of malt. To weak extracts of malt it gives a +richness and _fulness in the mouth_, which usually imply the presence of +much malt, with a bitterness which enables the brewer to withhold +one-third of his hops, and a colour which aids him in the darkening of +his porter. The middle classes in England prefer the thin wine-like +bitter beer. The skilled labourers in the manufacturing districts prefer +what is rich, full, and substantial in the mouth. With a view to their +taste, it is too often drugged with the _Cocculus indicus_ by +disreputable brewers; and much of the very beastly intoxication which +the consumption of malt liquor in England produces, is probably due to +this pernicious admixture. So powerful is the effect of this berry on +the apparent richness of beer, that a single pound produces an equal +effect with a bag of malt. The temptation to use it, therefore, is very +strong. The quantity imported in 1850 was 2359 cwt., equal to a hundred +and twelve times as many bags of malt; and although we cannot strictly +class it among the narcotics we voluntarily indulge in, it may certainly +be described as one in which thousands of the humbler classes are +compelled to indulge. + +It is interesting to observe how men carry with them their early tastes +to whatever new climate or region they go. The love of beer and hops has +been planted by Englishmen in America. It has accompanied them to their +new empires in Australia, New Zealand, and the Cape. In the hot East +their home taste remains unquenched, and the pale ale of England follows +them to remotest India. Who can tell to what extent the use of the hop +may become naturalised, through their means, in these far-off regions? +Who can predict that, inoculated into its milder influence, the devotees +of opium and the intoxicating hemp may not hereafter be induced to +abandon their hereditary drugs, and to substitute the foreign hop in +their place? From such a change in one article of consumption, how great +a change in the character of the people might we not anticipate? + +This leads us to remark, that we cannot as yet very well explain in what +way and to what extent the use of prevailing narcotics is connected, as +cause or effect, with peculiarities in national character. But there can +no longer be any doubt that the soothers and exciters we indulge in, in +some measure as the luxuries of life, though sought for at first merely +to gratify a natural craving, do afterwards gradually but sensibly +modify the individual character. And where the use is general and +extended, the influence of course affects in time the whole people. It +is a problem of interest to the legislator, not less than to the +physiologist and psychologist, to ascertain how far and in what +direction such a reaction can go—how much of the actual tastes, habits, +and character of existing nations has been created by the prolonged +consumption of the fashionable and prevailing forms of narcotics in use +among them respectively, and how far tastes and habits have been +modified by the changes in these forms which have been introduced and +adopted within historic times. The reader will readily perceive that +this inquiry has in it a valid importance quite distinct from that which +attaches itself to the supposed influence of the different varieties of +intoxicating fermented drinks in use in different countries. The latter, +as we have said, all contain the same intoxicating principle, and so +far, therefore, exercise a common influence upon all who consume them. +But the narcotics now in use owe their effects to substances which in +each, so far as is known, are chemically different from those which are +contained in every one of the others. They must exercise, therefore, +each a different physiological effect upon the system, and, if their +influence, as we suppose, extend so far, must each in a special way +modify also the constitution, the habits, and the character. + +Our space does not permit us, in the present Number, to speak of the use +of opium and hemp; we shall return to these extensively consumed drugs +on a future occasion. + + + + + SOUTH AMERICAN TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE.[10] + + +We here associate two books which have little in common beyond their +relation to the same region and races of men; the one is chiefly +scientific and statistical, the other deals largely in the +characteristic and romantic. Dr Weddell, physician and naturalist, and +member of various scientific societies and commissions, who had +previously travelled in and written of certain districts in South +America, was induced, two years ago, once more to cross the Line, bound +for Bolivia. His former journey had had a purely botanical object: he +had gone to make acquaintance with the trees which produce the Peruvian +bark. His researches were crowned with success; but he was attacked with +fever and dysentery, and quitted the unwholesome shores, vowing never to +revisit them. A handful of sand which he carried away with him caused +him to break through his resolution. Deposited in the Museum of Natural +History at Paris, it attracted attention by the beauty of the golden +spangles it contained. Dr Weddell again sailed for America, this time +with a double mission. The administrators of the Garden of Plants +confided to him certain scientific researches; and a number of persons, +whose objects were more material, commissioned him to examine and obtain +concessions of tracts of land upon the Tipuani—a stream which, rising +amongst the snows of the Cordilleras, flows over golden sands to its +junction with one of the chief tributaries of the mighty Amazon. + +Mr Theodore Pavie has been a great traveller. In the volume before us we +find him alternately in India, Africa, America, on the banks of the +Nile, on the Coromandel coast, in the forests that fringe the Sabine. +His book includes even a Chinese legend; but that he confesses to have +derived from a missionary, the companion of one of his voyages. His most +interesting chapters are a series of South American sketches—in the +Pampas, Chili, and Peru. He makes half an apology for having mingled +fiction with facts he himself witnessed. The system he has pursued is +perfectly allowable, and has been adopted by many travellers of wider +fame. We may instance Sealsfield, Ruxton, and a host of other +precedents. Like them, he has brought home from his distant wanderings a +portfolio of rough sketches, which he has filled up, coloured, and +completed by his own fireside. The landscape, the character, the +figures, even some of the incidents, are true to nature; but he has +thrown in a little artificial action, rendering the picture more +attractive. + +From the Peruvian port of Arica, which he reached, _viâ_ Southampton and +Panama, in the spring of 1851, Dr Weddell started at once for the +Bolivian town of La Paz. After passing Tacna, where they were detained +for some days by purchase of mules and travelling stores, the doctor and +his two companions, Mr Borniche and Mr Herrypon (the latter a civil +engineer), soon found themselves in the mountains, and suffering from +the painful sensations produced by the great rarefaction of the air. +This effect of the sensible diminution of the atmospheric pressure upon +the circulation and respiration is there called the _soroche_, and is +ignorantly attributed by the natives to metallic emanations from the +soil. At the height of about 12,000 feet above the level of the sea, the +travellers came to the first _apacheta_. In former days the Peruvian +Indians, upon attaining, with a burden, the summit of a mountain, were +accustomed to offer to their god Pachacamac the first object that met +their view. The custom was not costly, for the object was usually a +stone. They accompanied the offering by several repetitions of the word +_apachecta_, which was a sort of prayer. In time, this word, slightly +altered, was applied to the heaps of stones which the superstition +accumulated, and then to the mountain-peaks which these heaps +surmounted. Apachetas are found upon all elevated points of Peruvian +roads. Around one of them, at the summit of the Pass of +Gualillos—estimated by Dr Weddell, and by the English traveller +Pentland, to be nearly 15,000 feet above the sea—were numerous skeletons +of asses, mules, and lamas, which had perished of fatigue on attaining +that prodigious elevation. The three Frenchmen felt almost as much +inclined to lay their own bones beside those of the defunct brutes as to +push on further; but they managed to continue their route over one of +those vast mountain platforms known as _puñas_, of which the German +doctor Tschudi has given so striking an account. They passed the night +in the village of Tacora, and had regained their wonted courage and +activity when aroused next morning by their muleteer with intelligence +that four vicuñas were grazing close at hand. Stealing up to them under +cover of a wall, Dr Weddell and Mr Herrypon got within fair shot, fired, +and missed. Three of the animals took to flight; the fourth stood its +ground, and gazed boldly at its enemies. The doctor, supposing that a +wound was the cause of its immobility, quitted his cover and approached +the vicuña. When he got within a certain distance, the animal ran. It +was too late. The doctor fired his second barrel, and the ball broke its +spine. It was not, as Dr Weddell had supposed, a wound that had delayed +its flight. “When a herd of vicuñas is pursued,” he says, “the most +vigorous of the males, who act as chiefs, invariably remain the last +upon the place of danger, as if to cover the retreat of the others. This +is a fact of which we were more than once witnesses during our journey, +and hence it is much easier to obtain male than female vicuñas. I have +been twenty times within shot of males, but not once of females. The +vicuña (_Camelus vicogna_ Gmel.) is the most numerous species (it and +the _guanaco_) of the camel tribe in the New World. It is met with in +all the elevated regions of the Andes, from the equator to Magellan’s +Straits. The places it best loves to haunt are those where man and the +condor alone can follow it. The condor, that mighty bird of prey, which +is to the Andes what the eagle is to the Alps, prefers carrion to a +living prey, and seldom makes war upon it; and man, until our own days, +has rather encouraged its multiplication than aided in its destruction. +This explains the abundance of the vicuña at the period of the conquest +of Peru.” The old Spanish chroniclers relate that the vicuñas, although +wild, were regarded as the exclusive property of the Incas, and any who +hunted them incurred severe penalties. At fixed seasons—about once +a-year—a general hunt took place, under the personal superintendence of +the Inca and his chief officers; but only once in every four years was +this monster _battue_ allowed in the same district. The chase was on a +prodigious scale. Fifty or sixty thousand hunters—even more, if some +writers are to be believed—armed themselves with poles and lances, +traced an immense circle, and drove to a common centre all the animals +it enclosed. A selection then took place. Roebuck, guanacos, and other +inferior animals, were killed, especially the males; their skins were +used for various purposes, and their flesh was divided amongst the +hunters. This meat, cut in thin slices and dried, was called charqui, +and composed the sole animal food of the lower classes of Peruvians. The +vicuñas, of which thirty or forty thousand were often thus collected, +were more gently treated. They were carefully shorn, and then set at +liberty. The wool was stored in the royal warehouses, and issued as +required—the inferior qualities to the people, the better ones to the +nobles, who alone had a right to wear fine cloth. The tissues then +manufactured from the best vicuña wool are said to have been as +brilliant as the finest silks, and to have excited, by the delicacy of +their tints, the envy of European manufacturers. At the present day, no +salutary law protects the graceful and useful vicuñas; they lose their +life with their fleece, and have greatly diminished in numbers. The +Indians drive them into enclosures, knock them on the head with cudgels, +or break their necks across their knees, strip off the skin, and sell it +for half a dollar. The wool sells as high as a dollar a pound upon the +coast of Peru. It is chiefly consumed in the country, to make hats and +gloves. Only two or three thousand dollars’ worth is annually exported +from Peru. + +Dr Weddell makes numerous interesting zoological observations during his +journey up the country. Whilst traversing the frozen puña, he was +greatly surprised to find a ruin—in which his party slept, with snow for +a counterpane—infested with mice, whose sole nourishment, in that barren +and inhospitable district, must have been grass. The next halt was at +the farm of Chulunguiani, the highest point upon the road from Tacna to +La Paz. Here the party slept under a roof, and found a _pulperia_ or +little shop, where they were able to obtain sardines in oil, +sheep’s-milk cheese, and bad Bordeaux wine. A day was passed here in +duck-shooting, and in hunting the _viscacha_, a small animal of the +chinchilla tribe, having a dark grey fur, very soft, but less esteemed +by furriers than that of the chinchilla. It is about the size of a +rabbit, burrows amongst rocks, and is found only at a very great +elevation, equal to that habitually preferred by the vicuña. Dr Weddell +and his host shot two specimens. When the doctor went indoors to skin +them, he found that the animals had lost the tips of their tails. The +farm-steward, who had carried them in, explained that he had thus docked +them to preserve them from decomposition, the extremity of the tail +having the singular property of producing the corruption of the whole +animal, if not cut off almost immediately after death. Dr Weddell was +not very well satisfied with this explanation, but, to his astonishment, +he afterwards found it everywhere the custom to sever the end of the +viscacha’s tail. + +Whilst at the farm (it was a sheep-farm—oxen live but do not thrive at +that altitude) Dr Weddell did his utmost to get an alpaca, knowing that +there were some in the neighbourhood. He was unsuccessful; and as to +buying one, it is a most difficult matter in that country, where the +Indians have an extraordinary dislike to parting with their domesticated +animals, except sheep. During his stay in Bolivia, he repeatedly offered +five or six times its value for an alpaca, and was refused. The alpaca +wool, which constitutes one of the most important branches of Peruvian +commerce, and is consumed chiefly in England, varies greatly in price, +the pure white selling for thirty or thirty-five dollars a +hundredweight; other colours at an average of twenty-two dollars. The +weight of the fleeces ranges from three to seven pounds. “I have seen +some of these animals,” says Dr Weddell, “whose virgin fleece almost +swept the earth; when they attain that state, their faces are hidden in +the wool that surrounds them.” From a priest, who afforded hospitality +to the travellers at their second halt after they quitted the farm, they +obtained some instructive details concerning the country, and a most +marvellous story of a natural phenomenon observed by him during his +rambles in the province of Yungas. “This was nothing less than a +bird-plant—that is to say, a bird which, having alighted upon the +ground, had there taken root. More than a hundred persons, the _cura_ +said, had seen this wonder, and verified its reality. The person who had +discovered the bird, unfortunately forgot one day to take it food, and +it died. We were not informed how it had lived before it found a +master.” It is odd to be able to trace a coincidence between the wild +tale of the Peruvian puña and a tradition of Asiatic-Russian steppes. +Edward Jerrmann, in his _Pictures from St Petersburg_,[11] tells of the +_baranken_ or sheep-plant, supposed to produce the fine silky fleece +that was in reality obtained by ripping unborn lambs from the mother’s +belly. + +At La Paz, which the little caravan reached after much fatigue, some +severe hardship, and a few misadventures, but without serious disaster, +one of the first things the travellers did was to avail of a letter of +introduction from the Bolivian minister at Paris, to obtain an audience +of the president of the republic, General Belzu, who had just recovered +from wounds inflicted by assassins. One ball had struck him full in the +face, and his visitors looked curiously for the trace. A scarcely +perceptible scar, at the angle of the nose, was all they could discern. +The bullet remained in the head, but occasioned no inconvenience; and +the general said that his health was even better than before the +occurrence. Some time afterwards he consulted Dr Weddell about his +wounds, and the doctor learned, from the best source, the particulars of +the attempt upon his life, which he briefly recapitulates. + +“Raised to the presidency after the battle of Yamparaës, in which he +discomfited the adherents of Velasco, General Belzu had not only to +struggle against the remains of that party, but to defend himself +against the secret and much more formidable attacks of General +Ballivian, Velasco’s predecessor. It is said to have been at the +instigation of Ballivian that the plot I have spoken of was formed; and, +in support of this assertion, the remarkable fact is adduced that, upon +the very day on which the crime was committed at Chuquisaca, Ballivian +and one of his intimates quitted Copiapo (in Chili), where they were +staying, and rode in great haste towards the frontiers of Bolivia. + +“The day selected for the crime was the 6th September 1850. In the +afternoon the president left his palace, accompanied by an aide-de-camp, +and by Colonel Laguna, one of the principal members of the senate, and +betook himself to the public walk. Scarcely had he reached it, when four +men assailed him. He stood upon his defence, but at that moment a bullet +struck him in the face, and he fell to the ground. The shot had been +fired so near that his beard was burnt, and his cheeks were speckled +with grains of powder. A second shot was fired, but without effect. When +the assassins saw him stretched upon the earth, they fired three other +shots at him, but, strange to relate, each time the weapons flashed in +the pan. The chief of the brigands—a mulatto named Moralès, who was +mounted—then tried to trample him under his horse’s feet, but without +success. After several efforts, he at last urged his horse close up to +his victim, and, leaning over him, put a pistol to his head and fired a +last shot. ‘The tyrant is dead!’ he cried, and, spurring his horse, he +galloped through the streets to the barracks, to excite the garrison to +revolt. Meanwhile Laguna, the senator, stood by with folded arms, and +when the crime seemed fully consummated, he walked away with its +perpetrators, thus affording good grounds for suspicion of his +complicity. He was shot a few days afterwards. + +“As to the president, whose existence, with two bullets in his head, +seemed almost impossible, he had not even, he himself assured me, lost +consciousness for a moment; and when Moralès and his band left him, he +got up unaided, and reached, bathed in his blood, a neighbouring hut, +inhabited by a poor Indian. The news quickly spread that the chief of +the state still lived, and the projected revolution was stifled in its +birth.” + +The preservation of the president’s life was little short of a miracle. +One of the bullets had glanced off the skull without doing material +damage beyond occasioning complete loss of hearing with the left ear; +but the other had gone so deep into the head that it could not be +extracted. Dr Weddell probed the wound, and satisfied himself of the +course and position of the ball. A few hairs’-breadths farther, or a +copper bullet instead of a leaden one, and all was over with General +Belzu. + +The travellers made some stay at La Paz, where they soon became +acquainted with the principal people in the place. They passed their +time in paying visits, in seeking useful information relative to the +objects of their expedition, and in getting dreadfully out of breath by +the ascent of steep streets in an atmosphere so rarified that a +newly-arrived European can hardly take ten steps without a pause. +English housewives will read with interest Dr Weddell’s account of +Bolivian edibles, with disgust his sketch of the filthy horrors of a +Bolivian kitchen, with wonderment and incredulity the recipes he gives +for the manufacture of certain Bolivian dishes and delicacies. The mode +of using potatoes is very original. As it freezes nearly every night of +the year in the upper regions of the Andes, and the people have no means +of preserving potatoes from frost, they anticipate its action, in order +to regulate it. “They spread the potatoes on a thin layer of straw in +the open air; they water them slightly, and expose them to the frost for +three successive nights. When the vegetables subsequently thaw in the +sun, they acquire a spongy consistency; in that state they are trodden +under naked feet, in order to get rid of the skin and squeeze out the +juice; then they are left in the air until perfectly dry.” This +delectable preparation is known as the black _chuño_; and when wanted +for food, requires soaking in water for six or eight days. White _chuño_ +is prepared in another way, but one description of the sort will +probably satisfy everybody of the untempting nature of the diet. Besides +the animal and vegetable kingdoms, the mineral reign contributes to the +gratification of South American epicures. An important section of the +market at La Paz is occupied by sellers of a species of light-grey clay, +very greasy to the touch, and called _pahsa_. The Indians alone consume +it, mixing it with water to the consistency of thin gruel, and eating it +with salt. At Chuquisaca, Dr Weddell was informed, a sort of earth +called _chaco_, similar to the _pahsa_ of La Paz, was sold and eaten in +little cups, like custard or chocolate; and he heard of a _señorita_ who +thus ate dirt till she killed herself. The moderate use of this queer +article of food is not injurious, but neither does it afford the +slightest nourishment. + +The beefsteak was long in making its appearance one day at Don Adolfo’s +_gargotte_, where Dr Weddell and his companions usually took their +meals, and an impatient Frenchman started from his seat to visit the +kitchen and inquire into the delay. “Do not so!” cried a more +experienced customer; “if you see how it is done, you will not eat for a +week.” Dr Weddell had opportunity of inspecting more than one _Pazeña_ +kitchen. Besides the cooks—which we take to be something indescribably +abominable, since he describes them merely as a degree or two more +disgusting than the scene of their operations—those kitchens contain +three things,—shapeless earthen pots, black and greasy; heaps of dried +lama-dung, used as fuel; guinea-pigs _ad libitum_. Guinea-pigs are the +rabbits of Bolivia, where European rabbits are curiosities, called +Castilian conies, and kept in cages like some outlandish monkey. The +guinea-pig has the run of the kitchen, where he thrives and fattens, and +is ultimately slaughtered and cooked. + +Dr Weddell went to a ball, given in celebration of the birthday of a +young and amiable Peruvian lady, recently allied with one of the best +families of La Paz. His account of it gives a curious notion of the +degree of civilisation of the best Bolivian society. No illuminated +portals, liveried lackeys, or crowd of carriages indicated to the doctor +(who had not yet been at the house) the scene of the festival, when he +issued forth, at eight in the evening, white-waistcoated, and draped in +his cloak. The street was dark and deserted. By inquiring at shops, he +at last found the door he sought; it stood open. A little Indian girl, +whom he encountered in the court, pointed to the staircase, up which he +groped his way. At the end of a passage, upon the first floor, he +discovered a faint light. Following this beacon, and passing through two +doors that stood ajar, he reached a small room, where several of the +guests were smoking cigars round a table, on which stood half-emptied +cups and glasses. In a corner two _señoras_ were squatted, making ice; +and a little farther off an old negress was putting sugar into a caldron +of punch. The ice-makers were the mother and sister of the heroine of +the day; the master of the house was amongst the smokers. Dr Weddell +paid his respects, got rid of his cloak, and passed on into antechamber +No. 2. This was in darkness, save for the glimmering rays of light that +shot in from the adjacent rooms; and the doctor, seeing nothing, and +advancing quickly, ran up against a soft substance, which he presently +made out to be another _señora_, enveloped, even to the crown of her +head, in a vast shawl. The room was half full of shawled ladies, seated +on either side of the passage left open for the guests, some on chairs, +others on trunks, and two or three upon a bed. These _señoras_, the +doctor learned, were mothers, friends, or relatives of the guests. Not +being sufficiently smart to show themselves in the foreground of the +festival, they yet would have a view of it. They came as _mosqueteras_. +Antechamber No. 2 contained what is called, in that country, the +_mosqueteria_.[12] Another step took the doctor into the ball-room. +Thence shawls and cigars were banished, and replaced by silks and lace, +white gloves and black patent leather. Dr Weddell looked down with some +shame at his boots, which he had himself blacked before leaving home. +Silence reigned in the saloon. The ladies were on one side, the men upon +the other, waiting for the military band, which was behind time. The +first tap of the drum electrified the mute assemblage. Smiles and +animation beamed upon every face. At the same time were distributed the +fragrant contents of the caldron which the black Hecate had brewed in +anteroom No. 1. Cups of punch circulated, and were not disdained by the +ladies. Dancing began. The doctor, who, whilst climbing mountains, three +days previously, in quest of flowers and simples, had suffered terribly +from the _soroche_, and had counted a hundred and sixty throbs of his +pulse in a minute, was feverish and ill at ease, and did not intend to +dance. But he was borne away by the torrent. After the quadrille came +another distribution of punch, and a proportionate rise in the ladies’ +spirits; then came the ices which mamma and sister had so industriously +manufactured, and which were, of course, pronounced excellent; then +(Bolivia seems a very thirsty country) bottles of champagne and sherry +made their appearance, every gentleman seized as many glasses as he +could carry, and challenged the _señoritas_, who were not allowed to +refuse. The fun now grew fast and furious. A new phase of the ball +commenced. For formal quadrilles were substituted national dances. +These, Dr Weddell acutely remarks, have little merit unless danced as +soup is eaten—hot. The military orchestra played the airs of the +_bailesitos_ with infinite spirit, one of the musicians accompanying +them with words, in which there was some license and much wit. The +_zapateado_ was danced amidst vehement applause. The good-humour of the +evening was at its height. Farther they could not go, thought Dr +Weddell. He was mistaken. In an interval of the dancing, it was decided +that a colonel there present, who, in the doctor’s opinion, was +abundantly gay, was not sufficiently so, and he was condemned to be +shot. The sentence was forthwith carried into execution. The victim was +placed upon a chair in the middle of the room, the band played a funeral +march, and the unhappy (or happy) colonel was compelled to swallow, one +after the other, as many glasses of champagne or sherry as there were +young ladies present. This done, the dead-march ceased, and the culprit +was released. The German students have a custom somewhat similar to +this, _Der Fürst der Thoren_, when one sits astride upon a barrel, and +imbibes all the beer, _schnaps_, and Rhenish presented to him by his +boon-companions. But with the exception of Lola Montes, who smoked her +cigar and drank her _chopine_ in a Heidelberg _studenten-kneipe_, the +fair sex in Europe do not generally mingle in orgies of this kind. After +a substantial supper, Dr Weddell was condemned to be shot, and shot +accordingly. Other executions followed, and the jollity reached its +climax by the men voting the execution _en masse_ of the whole of the +ladies—a sentence which was resisted, but at last carried out. The +Bolivian _señoritas_ must have strong heads, for we read that dancing +recommenced and continued vigorously until five in the morning, when the +band and the majority of the guests beat a retreat. A guitar was then +procured, and the lady of the house and two or three of her friends, +with half-a-dozen of the most active of the _caballeros_, danced on, and +kept up the ball until one in the afternoon! After which, all we have to +say is, Brava, Bolivia! + +Dr Weddell, who had been unwell before the ball, was very ill after it, +and lay in bed for six weeks. When his strength returned, he made an +excursion to La Lancha, a point about four leagues from La Paz. The +steps he and his companions had taken to obtain concessions of land on +the Tipuani had not led to the results they anticipated; so they +temporarily directed their attention to the river Chuquiaguillo, upon +which La Lancha is situated. In the opinion of the natives, this place +is _un pozo de oro_—a well of gold. Early one morning in May the three +Frenchmen set out for it, upon mule-back, passing along a road +enlivened, during its early portion, with various kinds of shrubs, +bearing flowers of brilliant colours. At this part of the doctor’s book +we come to a good deal of scientific detail, accompanied by woodcuts, +all very interesting to miners and intending gold-seekers, but on which +we shall not dwell. The gold of the Chuquiaguillo is found in the form +of _pépites_, or nuggets, very various in shape and size. One of them, +sent to Spain by the Conde de Moncloa, is said to have weighed more than +twenty kilogrammes—forty-four English pounds. At various periods, and +much more recently, nuggets of several pounds’ weight have been found. + +“During the presidency of General Ballivian, an Indian came from time to +time to La Paz, to sell pieces of gold, which had the appearance of +being cut with a chisel from a considerable mass of the metal, and many +persons judged, from the colour, that the mass in question must proceed +from the river Chuquiaguillo. No bribe or promise could induce the +Indian to reveal his secret. The affair got to the ears of the +president, who expected to obtain without difficulty the information +refused to others; but the Indian held out, and would say nothing. +Finding gentle means ineffectual, the general tried threats, +imprisonment, &c., but all in vain. Finally, the poor man was condemned +to life-long service in the army, as guilty of disobedience and +disrespect to the chief of the state! From that day forward nothing more +was heard either of him or of his treasure. Some persons in La Paz told +me that he perished under the lash.” + +La Lancha (the word signifies a boat) is neither town nor village, but a +marsh. On approaching it, up a ravine, the travellers came to an immense +dike or barrier of rock, through one extremity of which the river had +wrought itself a narrow passage. This dike had evidently long been an +immense obstacle to the waters that flowed down the ravine of +Chuquiaguillo, and it was a rational enough conclusion that, since those +waters washed down gold, a good deal of the metal must still remain +behind that natural barrier. But it seemed more probable that the river +gathered its gold _after_ than _before_ passing the rocky wall. It +struck Dr Weddell as pretty certain that Count Moncloa’s nugget would +have remained behind the dike instead of being washed over it. The +conclusion was reasonable enough. Behind the dike La Lancha begins, +terminating a quarter of a league above it, at the foot of another rock, +which rises vertically to a height of thirty feet. Over this rock the +river dashes, covering its surface with great stalactites of ice, and +then winds along the right side of the marsh, where it has made itself a +channel. + +“At one point of its surface the Lancha contracts, and thus presents the +form of the figure 8. Perhaps one should seek the figure of a boat, to +which the site has been compared, in the combination of the marsh and of +the mountains of bluish schist that rise abruptly around it. According +to this manner of viewing it, the surface of the marsh would represent +the deck of the vessel, and the gold would be in the hold—that is to +say, on the rock which is supposed to form the bottom of the basin. +Several attempts have been made to ascertain the existence of the +precious metal, and we were told a multitude of attractive tales—much +too attractive to be credible. The upshot, however, which could not be +concealed, was, that all attempts had ultimately failed, owing to the +infiltration of water into the wells sunk in the attempt to reach the +_veneros_ (strata of argillaceous sand) in which the gold is found.” + +Nevertheless, the doctor thought the place worthy deliberate +examination, and to that end established himself, with Mr Herrypon the +engineer, and with Franck, their carpenter, under a tent, within which, +during the night, the thermometer rarely stood at less than three +degrees below zero. When the sun shone, the climate was genial and +agreeable; but at three o’clock it dipped behind the mountains, which +was the signal for the wanderers to creep under canvass, wrap themselves +in blankets, and feast upon the hot stew their Indian cook had passed +the morning in preparing. They had neighbours: several Indians had built +huts on the ledges of the mountains, and daily drove their sheep and +alpacas to graze upon the herbage of the marsh. From one of them Dr +Weddell subsequently obtained an alpaca for his collection. Vicuñas +occasionally strayed near the camp, and Franck managed to shoot one, +which, with viscachas and a few wild ducks, improved the campaigning +fare. + +“Of the feathered inhabitants of the district, the most curious, +unquestionably, is a species of variegated woodpecker (_Picus +rupicola_), which, notwithstanding its name of _carpintero_ (carpenter), +has all the habits of a mason. Instead of working at trees, as do its +congeners, it finds nothing in that graminaceous region but rock and +earth upon which to exercise its beak. These birds are invariably met +with in isolated pairs; they skim the ground in flying, and settle, +after a few moments’ flight, upon a sod or rock, uttering a long, +shrill, cooing sound. If one is killed, it is rare that its mate does +not come and place itself beside the dead body, as if imploring a +similar fate—a request which the sportsman is not slow to comply with, +for the _carpintero_ of the Cordilleras is a dainty morsel.” + +Whilst Dr Weddell herborised, adding nearly a hundred species of plants +to his collection, the engineer studied the Lancha with other views, and +at last resolved to sound it. Mr Borniche, who had remained at La Paz, +obtained authorisation from the Government—_el derecho de cateo_, or +right of search, in the whole of the Lancha, during a fixed time, at the +end of which he might, if he thought proper, purchase the ground at its +rough value, fixed without reference to any mineral wealth it might +contain. All this in accordance with the Mining Code. But poor Herrypon +knew not what he undertook. He had no idea of mining difficulties in +Bolivia. In this single operation he took the measure of the country’s +capabilities. A month and a half passed in hammering out, in a forge at +La Paz, a common and very clumsy Artesian screw, such as would have been +got ready in three days in a European city, and at a cost considerably +less than that of the coal consumed in the Bolivian smithy. The mere +hire of the forge and bellows-blower was four dollars (sixteen +shillings) a-day. When at last the instrument was ready and applied, +layers of solid rock and a thick bed of diffluent clay long frustrated +all the miners’ attempts. Finally, a deep well was sunk, but no gold was +found, nor signs of any, and the miners quitted the place, where nothing +less than the certainty of ultimately reaching a rich vein would have +justified them in continuing their costly and laborious researches. + +A second illness, by which he was attacked before he had fully recovered +from the debilitating effects of the first, determined Dr Weddell to +seek change of air. Whilst his engineering ally was still sinking wells +and unprofitably probing the Lancha, he set out with Mr Borniche for +Tipuani. Passing the magnificent Mount Illampŭ, which is upwards of +seven thousand English yards high, and the great lake of Titicaca, they +reached the town of Sorata, after an easy journey of thirty leagues. A +toilsome one of forty remained to be accomplished before they should +reach Tipuani. The roads were difficult, their muleteers fell ill, their +mules were stubborn and restive, and _mal-pasos_ (dangerous places to +pass) were numerous; but after a few small accidents and much fatigue +they reached the village, which derives its name from _tipa_, the name +of a tree that produces a gum known in that country as _sangre de +drago_—dragon’s blood. This tree, it is said, was formerly very abundant +in the valley of Tipuani. In the _aymara_, or Indian tongue, the +particle _ni_, added to a word, implies possession. The village consists +of fifty or sixty houses, built chiefly of palm trunks, placed side by +side, thatched with leaves of the same tree, and partitioned, when +partitions there are, with bamboos. “I found the place somewhat +increased in size since my visit in 1847, but no way improved with +respect to healthiness and cleanliness. At its entrance, stagnant water, +covered with a green scum, filled old excavations, or _diggings_, and +told that there, as in California, gold and fever are inseparable. It +sufficed, moreover, to behold the pallid countenances of the +inhabitants, to judge of the atmosphere we breathed.” This was hardly +the place for an invalid to recruit his health and strength in, and, +after visiting the mines, Dr Weddell set out for the Mission of Guanay, +boating it down the rapid and rocky Tipuani—a rather dangerous mode of +travelling. The priest of the Mission was an _aymara_ Indian, a native +of La Paz; his parishioners were _Lecos_ Indians, considerable +savages—although they had abjured paint, or only secretly used it—and +very skilful with gun and bow, as well as in the capture of several +large species of fish found in the river Mapiri, hard by which they +dwelt. Some of these fish attain the weight of nearly a hundred pounds. +They are taken with strong hooks, shot with arrows, or _hocussed_ and +taken by hand. This last practice prevails amongst some other South +American tribes. + +“The substance employed for this purpose by the Guanay Indians is the +milky juice of one of the largest trees of their forests, known by them +under the name of Soliman. It is the _Hura crepitans_ of the botanist. +To obtain this venomous milk, they cut numerous notches in the bark of +the tree, and the sap which exudes runs down and soaks the earth at its +foot. This earth, enclosed in a large sack, is thrown into the river, +and as soon as the water becomes impregnated with it, the fish within +the circle of its influence float inanimate upon the surface, and are +collected without trouble. A creek or small branch of the river is +usually selected for this operation. In other parts of Bolivia, and +especially in the province of Yungas, they use, to poison the water, the +green stalk of a small liana called _Pepko_ or _Sacha_, of which they +crush, upon a stone, a fathom’s length or two, in that part of the river +they wish to infect. Its effect is said to be as speedy as that of the +Soliman sap, and I was assured that the fish thus taken could be eaten +with impunity. It is not to be thence inferred that the sap, like the +poison used for their arrows by the Indians of Guiana and on the Amazon, +may be taken by man without injury; it is to the extreme smallness of +the dose swallowed with the fish that its apparent harmlessness is to be +attributed. The sap of the Soliman has, in fact, such caustic qualities, +that its mere emanations cause violent irritation of the organs which +receive them. We saw at the Mission a person who had lost his sight in +consequence of a few drops of this juice having accidentally spirted +into his eyes; and Messrs Boussingault and Rivero related that, having +subjected the sap of the Soliman to evaporation, with a view to analyse +it, the person who superintended the operation had his face swollen and +his eyes and ears ulcerated, and was cured only after several days’ +medical treatment.” + +Bolivia is evidently a fine field for the botanist. Dr Weddell mentions +a number of vegetables unknown, or little known, in Europe, but +interesting and valuable by reason of their medical properties or +economical uses. When in the province of Yungas, he briefly refers to +two or three of the principal of these: “The _Matico_, a shrub of the +pepper tribe, whose leaves, which resemble those of sage, have +remarkable vulnerary properties; the _Vejuco_, a curious species of +_Aristolochia_, whose crushed leaves are said to be an infallible cure +for the bites of serpents; and a sort of _Myrica_, or wax-tree, whose +berries, soaked in boiling water, yield in abundance a green wax, used +to make candles.” Concerning the _Quinquina_, or Peruvian bark tree, and +the _Coca_ shrub, whose leaves the Indians chew, the doctor gives many +interesting particulars. When descending the river Coroico in a _balsa_ +or Indian canoe, he frequently encountered his old acquaintances the +_cascarilleros_, or bark-gatherers, who pursue their wild and solitary +calling in the interior of the forests, dwelling under sheds of +palm-leaves, and exposed to many dangers and hardships. Whilst seeking, +one evening, a good place to bivouac, the doctor, and the _padre_ from +the Guanay Mission, who was then his fellow-traveller, came upon a +_cascarillero’s_ hut, in front of which they beheld a horrible +spectacle. A man lay upon the ground in the agonies of death. He was +almost naked; and, whilst yet alive, he was preyed upon by thousands of +insects, whose stings and bites doubtless accelerated his end. “His +face, especially, was so much swollen that its features could not be +distinguished; and his limbs, the only portion of this corpse which +still moved, were in an equally hideous state. Under the roof of leaves +was the remainder of the poor wretch’s clothes, consisting of a straw +hat and a ragged blanket; beside them lay a flint and steel, and an old +knife. A small earthen pot contained the remains of his last meal—a +little maize, and two or three frozen potatoes. For a few seconds the +missionary contemplated this piteous object, then made a step towards +the unfortunate man, and was about, I thought, to offer him some +assistance, at least of a spiritual nature, but his courage failed him; +and, suddenly turning away, he walked hastily to his _balsa_, and had +himself rowed to a place some hundred yards farther, upon the opposite +bank of the river.” In fact, the tortured bark-gatherer was beyond human +aid, and on the brink of death. Dr Weddell covered him with his blanket, +and returned to the boats. + +We have dipped but into a few chapters of this compendious volume of +nearly six hundred pages. A large portion of its contents are more +interesting to naturalists and miners than to the general reader. Dr +Weddell’s investigations are of a comprehensive nature, including the +animal, vegetable, and mineral kingdoms, extending to an analysis of the +various Indian languages of the country, and even to Bolivian music, of +which he furnishes specimens. A map, some useful illustrations, an +excellent table of contents, and headings to the chapters, give the work +a completeness not so common in French as in English publications of +this nature. Having adopted it for examination as a book of travel, and +not of scientific and mining research, we recommend the numerous +chapters we have not touched upon to those classes of readers to which +they especially address themselves, and turn to Mr Pavie’s sketches of +countries adjacent to those in which Dr Weddell has more recently +wandered. It does not appear, from the former gentleman’s book, that his +rambles had any more serious motive than love of locomotion, and a +curiosity to view strange lands. The form he has adopted, and the modest +pretensions announced in his preface, relieving him of most of the +responsibility to which writers of travel usually hold themselves +subject, he gives no account of himself, is very desultory, and does not +take the trouble to supply dates. We collect, however, from his volume +and preface, that some years have elapsed since his travels were +performed, and that he was then a young man, eager for adventure, and +enthusiastic for local peculiarities and national characteristics. It is +with a view to variety, he tells us, that he has jumbled the sections of +his book, and irregularly distributed those of them which have a natural +order and sequence of their own. It was about twenty years ago—as we +gather from the internal evidence of the chapters—that Mr Pavie left +Buenos Ayres for Valparaiso, by the route across the Pampas. The moment +was not particularly well chosen for such a journey. Anarchy was at its +height in South America, and especially in the country of the Argentine +republic. There was strife between federalists and unitarians. The +Indians, resuming the offensive, had committed many depredations, and +defeated the volunteers of the province of Cordova. The roads were far +from safe; impediments and stoppages were numerous, and two months were +consumed by the journey from La Plata to the Cordillera, a distance of +three hundred leagues. When at only four days’ march from the Andes, +snow fell, and a halt was called in the poor little town of Mendoza. The +mountains were white from foot to summit; there was no possibility of +crossing them; patience must be cultivated, and spring waited for. In +these dull winter-quarters Mr Pavie had abundant leisure to note down +the incidents of his two months’ journey, to gather characteristic +traits of the people, and striking anecdotes of the war. We shall take +him up, however, at an earlier period of his expedition, when he was but +a week out from Buenos Ayres. He had traversed the province of the same +name and that of Santa Fé, and hoped to reach the town of Cordova upon +the following night. A forest succeeded to bare and monotonous plains. +The horses trotted briskly over a light sandy soil, refreshed by +numerous streams; the country was smiling, the vegetation rich. It still +wanted two hours of sunset, and another league would bring the +travellers to the post-house of the _esquina_—the Corner—situated at the +junction of the two high-roads which connect the Pacific and the +Atlantic—one leading northwards, to Bolivia and Peru, the other +south-west, to Chili, passing through St Luis and Mendoza. Mr Pavie +would have availed himself of the remaining daylight to push on a stage +farther, but a young Cordovan, who accompanied him, and who was a lively +and pleasant fellow, urged him to pass the night at the _esquina_. It +was kept by a widow, he said, a certain Doña Ventura, whose eggs with +tomata sauce were quite beyond praise, and whose daughter Pepa sang like +a nightingale. It was a long road from that to Santiago de Chili—three +hundred leagues, besides the Andes to cross, and the season was +advanced, but Mr Pavie was unwilling to disoblige his friend. + +“An old _gaucho_, the widow’s managing man, came out to receive us. +Whilst the horses were unharnessed, a lad of twelve or thirteen, +beautiful as one of Murillo’s shepherds—who was hurling stones at the +wild pigeons perched upon the fig-trees—threw his sling across his +shoulder, and ran into the house, crying out—‘Mother! mother! here is +Don Mateo with some foreign señores.’ Don Mateo, our Cordovan friend, +went to see after dinner, and to inform the post-mistress that we should +not need horses before the next morning. The travellers’ room was +tolerably clean, and very large. Its sole furniture consisted of a small +lamp burning before an image of the Virgin, and of a guitar suspended +from a nail. When dinner was ready, Doña Ventura brought in immense +arm-chairs, covered with leather and gilt nails, and evidently made at +Granada in the time of the Catholic kings. Some very brisk peasant girls +(_cholas_), who said nothing, but looked a great deal, laid the table, +and placed upon it the promised eggs and tomatas, and large salad-bowls +containing lumps of roast meat swimming in gravy. Pimento had not been +spared. The soup was brought to us, according to the custom of the +country, at the end of the repast. The post-mistress, seated upon the +estrade or platform that extended completely round the room, triumphed +in our famous appetites, and proudly drew herself up whenever one of us +paid her a more or less exaggerated compliment on the excellence of her +dinner. Pepa, a handsome girl, with a remarkably white skin and fresh +complexion, stood near her, smoking a cigarrito, and gazing about with +her great blue eyes, which were shaded by long dark lashes. Juancito, +the boy with the sling, rambled round the table, and unceremoniously +tasted the Bordeaux wine in our glasses. Dinner cleared away, Mateo took +down the guitar and presented it to Pepa: ‘Señorita,’ he said, ‘these +gentlemen would be enchanted to hear you sing; favour them with a +ballad, and they will consider you the most amiable girl—_la mas +preciosa niña_—in the entire province.’ We were about to add our +entreaties to those of Mateo, but the young girl had already tuned the +instrument; and, without coughing, complaining of a cold, or waiting to +be asked again, she sang half-a-dozen very long songs. At the end of +every verse Mateo applauded. Pepa certainly had a charming voice, which +she did not badly manage. Gradually her countenance grew animated. From +time to time she stopped and exclaimed—‘Ay, Jesus! I am dead!’ and then +went on again. Doña Ventura at last began to accompany her daughter’s +song. At every chorus we slapped the table with the palms of our hands; +and Mateo, imitating castanets with his fingers, danced like a madman in +the middle of the hall.” + +This thoroughly Spanish-American scene was interrupted by the arrival of +fifteen waggons, each drawn by six oxen, and laden with dried fruits, +cotton, and bales of horse-hair. They drew up in line upon the open +space in whose centre stood the post-house. The oxen, unharnessed, +joined the reserve drove which followed the convoy, in charge of a dozen +horsemen; and from the innermost recesses of the vehicles there emerged +bullock-drivers, women, children, passengers of all ages and of motley +aspect, who had joined the caravan in order to get over three hundred +leagues at small expense. Some ran to cut wood, others to fetch water. +Fires were lighted, and enormous slices of meat set to roast before them +upon spits stuck in the ground. Every convoy of this kind is under the +orders of a _capataz_ or chief. This one was commanded by a certain Gil +Perez, whose arrival seemed of strong interest to Doña Ventura and her +daughter. Pepa hastened to adorn herself with a silk shawl, the gaudy +product of a Lyons loom, and with a fashionable Buenos Ayres comb, a +foot high. His camp established, Gil Perez entered the house with a +beaming countenance. He had brought presents for everybody;—a scarf and +satin shoes for Pepa, a Peruvian gold chain for her mother, a dirk for +Juancito. In Spanish countries acquaintance is soon made. His gifts +distributed, Perez sat down and chatted with Don Mateo and the other +travellers; whilst the bullock-drivers, the _cholas_, and the postilions +of the _esquina_, were dancing outside. By and by, Perez, who had been +out to look after his people, announced the approach of more travellers, +indicated by a cloud of dust in the south-east. Juancito went out to +reconnoitre, and reported that the muleteers from San Juan were close at +hand. Pepa and her mother exchanged a rapid glance. The muleteers halted +at some distance from the posting-house, and unloaded their beasts, each +of which carried two barrels of brandy. Their chief dismounted and +walked towards the house, his saddle-bags over his shoulder. Walking +rapidly and on tiptoe, on account of the long steel spurs which he +dragged at his heels, he knocked at Doña Ventura’s door. Juancito +answered. + +“Gil Perez looked at the muleteer pretty much as an admiral might look +at the humble master of a merchantman. The muleteer, disconcerted at +finding the room full of strange faces, to say nothing of that of the +_capataz_, which seemed greatly to incommode him, paused near the door +for some seconds. + +“‘Come in, Fernando,’ said Doña Ventura; ‘you are surprised to see my +Pepita in full dress, eh, my lad? We have had an arrival of gentlemen. +Will you sup? I have some _puchero_ at hand.’ + +“‘Thanks, señora,’ replied Fernando; ‘I want nothing. You know that I +never pass this way without calling to see Pepita. I have brought you a +little barrel of the best brandy that has been tasted at San Juan for +many a year.’ + +“‘Is the brandy for Pepa?’ said Gil Perez. + +“‘Don Gil,’ replied the muleteer, ‘every one gives what he has, and +according to his means.’ Then, turning to the young girl—‘Pepita,’ he +said, ‘when you were a child you liked the tarts made in our mountains; +I have brought you some, and of the best peaches.’ + +“Whilst speaking, he drew from his saddle-bags the little barrel of +brandy, and a dozen square cakes filled with a thick marmalade, which +seemed particularly grateful to the gums of Juancito. Then he sat +himself down near Pepa, and looked proudly at the captain of the +waggons. + +“‘How many beasts have you?’ said the latter. + +“‘Fifteen, besides saddle-horses.’ + +“‘Just as many as I have carts. Not so bad, really. You carry thirty +casks—half a load for one of my waggons. Pshaw! what can you earn? A +poor trade is yours, my lad, and you will follow it long before you grow +rich.’ + +“‘When I am tired of it,’ replied Fernando, ‘I will try another.’ The +muleteer spoke these words in a singular tone. + +“‘Fernando is stout-hearted,’ said Doña Ventura, ‘and he will do well +yet; and he will find, somewhere in his own province, a pretty girl with +a good dowry. Eh, Fernando?’ + +“Fernando made no reply, but pulled down his little pointed hat over his +forehead;—his eyes glittered like those of a cat. Seizing the guitar, +which lay upon the bench beside Pepa, he strummed it with an absent air, +like one absorbed by his thoughts. Juancito, who stood before him, +waiting doubtless for the end of the prelude, and for the commencement +of some lively mountain ditty, pushed his arm, and said—‘Fernando, have +you seen the fine presents Gil Perez has brought us?’ Without raising +his eyes, the muleteer sang, in a low voice, this verse of an old +ballad:— + + ‘No estès tan contenta, Juana, + En ver me penar por ti; + Que lo que hoy fuere de mi, + Podrá ser de ti mañana,’[13] + +Then suddenly throwing down the guitar, he jumped upon the estrade, +extinguished the lamp that burned before the Madonna, and clapped his +hand to his knife. Pepa took refuge close to her mother. At the cry she +uttered, Gil Perez stood upon his guard; but Fernando passed close by +him without looking at him, and reached the door. ‘Ah, Pepita!’ muttered +he as he went out, ‘you will drive me to harm!’ And he disappeared.” + +This stormy episode broke up the party. Agitated and alarmed, Doña +Ventura and her daughter betook themselves to their bedchambers. The +travellers wrapped themselves in their blankets—Mr Pavie establishing +himself, according to his custom, in their _coche-galera_, or +travelling-carriage, where he slept but little, owing to the songs and +dancing of the waggon-drivers, and the screaming of innumerable parrots. +The night passed without incident, and at daybreak he was roused by +Mateo. The horses were ready; the San Juan muleteers were already on +their road; Gil Perez, foot in stirrup, was directing the departure of +his convoy. That evening the travellers reached Cordova. + +Several months had elapsed since the scene at the _esquina_, and Mr +Pavie, after rambling through Chili and Pern, returned to Santiago, the +capital of the former country. Looking on, one night, at a dance in a +public garden, he fell in with his old acquaintance, Don Mateo, somewhat +threadbare, but still a passionate lover of song and dance. One of the +political changes so common in South America had driven him across the +Andes. He was an exile, proscribed in his own country. His party had +fallen, his patrimony had been swallowed up by fines, and he deemed +himself fortunate to have saved his neck. + +“Do you remember,” said Mateo, as he leaned beside his French friend +upon the parapet bordering the Tajamar, and gazed at the summits of the +Cordillera, which still reflected a last gleam of sun—“do you recollect +one evening at the _esquina_? Well, of all the persons then assembled +under Doña Ventura’s hospitable roof, and including her and her +daughter, how many, do you suppose, still live? Two, you and I! The +first scene of the drama passed before your eyes. I will narrate those +that ensued. You have not forgotten our merry supper at the +posting-house, Gil Perez and his waggons, and Fernando, the little +muleteer with the long spurs?” + +Mr Pavie perfectly remembered all that had passed at the _esquina_. +Mateo took up the tale from the moment of their departure. Although +Fernando and Gil Perez started nearly at the same moment, they met no +more until they reached Buenos Ayres. The _aria_ (string of mules) +trotted briskly over the plain, whilst the heavy waggons lingered in the +ruts. Four days had elapsed since Fernando’s arrival, when Perez reached +his usual halting-ground near the hill of the Retiro, and, after turning +out his cattle to graze, rode into the city. As soon as he was gone, the +bullock-drivers, a vagabond and insubordinate race, gathered round the +camp-fires to discuss the news that had reached them of insurrections in +the inland provinces. Most of these wild _gauchos_ felt sorely tempted +to exchange goad for lance, and join the armed bands then scouring the +country. To gallop in boundless plains, to pillage isolated farms, and +attack hamlets—such was the fascinating perspective that offered itself +to their imagination. Whilst they were debating the probable course of +events in the _tierra adentro_, Fernando came by. He was on foot; his +long spurs were still at his heels. + +“‘Ha!’ cried the bullock-drivers, ‘here is the little muleteer, the +brandy-merchant from San Juan! Give us a barrel, Fernando, and we will +drink your health.’ + +“‘Give me something to eat,’ replied the muleteer, ‘I am fasting since +yesterday.’ + +“And cutting a slice off a great piece of beef that roasted at the fire, +he took one end of it in his fingers, put the other into his mouth, and +swallowed it at a single gulp, as a lazzarone swallows an ell of +macaroni. Then he wiped his knife on his cowskin boot and lay down under +a cart to sleep. When Gil Perez returned and walked round his camp, he +saw the muleteer, who was snoring on the grass. + +“‘Hallo, Fernando!’ he cried, ‘what do you there, my man?’ + +“‘Resting myself,’ replied Fernando, rubbing his eyes, ‘I have passed +four days and nights playing at cards.’ + +“‘Have you won?’ + +“‘Lost everything—my load of brandy, my mules, all I had in the world. +Lend me twenty dollars, Gil Perez?’ + +“‘To gamble them?’ + +“‘Perhaps. See, I was a steady man; I never played, and you are cause +that I am perhaps about to become a robber. I have known Pepa from her +childhood; her mother received me well, saw that I loved her daughter, +and encouraged me to work and increase my little trade. Every trip I +made I never missed calling at the _esquina_, and every trip I found +Pepa prettier than before. She received me joyfully, and I was happy. +But since two years that you have gone that road, all is changed. With +your gold chains and silk shawls you have turned their heads. Lend me +twenty dollars, that I may make them presents and regain their favour. +You are rich, Gil Perez—you will find a wife in the towns, at Salta, +Cordova, where you please; I am poor, but I love Pepita, the only girl +who would not refuse me, ruined though I be.’” + +Surprised at the muleteer’s frank explanation and request, Gil Perez +offered him the twenty dollars, but laughed at the idea of abandoning +his pretensions to Pepita. Fernando refused the money, and departed with +a muttered threat. That night he took to the plain, mounted on a fine +horse and bearing gold in his girdle—the spoils of a traveller he had +waylaid and murdered. The die was cast; the honest muleteer had become a +_gaucho malo_. + +A few days after this, Fernando rode up to the _esquina_. Little +Juancito ran to kiss him. Torribio, the steward, surprised to see him +come alone, riding a valuable horse and without his usual retinue of +mules and muleteers, hurried out to meet him. “_Amigo!_” he cried, +“whence come you, thus finely equipped? It seems the San Juan brandy +fetches a good price in the market!” Without replying, Fernando abruptly +opened the door and addressed the two women, astonished at his sudden +appearance. + +“The _gauchada_ is about to take the field,” he said, “and I greatly +fear that one of its earliest visits will be for you. I have friends in +its ranks; give me your daughter, Doña Ventura, and I answer for her +safety and yours.’ + +“‘Since when are you allied with the brigands, Fernando?’ indignantly +demanded Doña Ventura. + +“‘Pepita,’ said the muleteer, evading reply, ‘will you have me?—You +tremble—you turn away your head!—Are you afraid of me, Pepita? Do you +take me for a bandit?’ + +“There was something terrible in the sound of Fernando’s voice, which +even the passionate love he still felt for Pepa was insufficient to +soften. The young girl in vain endeavoured to speak. + +“‘Fernando,’ cried Doña Ventura, ‘when last you were here, you left my +house like a madman, your hand on the haft of your knife; you enter it +to-day like a bandit, with threats upon your lips. Begone, and return no +more; I need not your protection.’ + +“‘Ha! you mean to say that Gil Perez will protect you. Reckon upon that! +There are times when fine shawls and gold chains are not worth sabre and +carbine. After all, I too have gold! See here. Once more, Pepita, will +you follow me? I am no longer a muleteer; it was too base a trade, was +it not? Shall I carry you off on my horse’s crupper into the sierra of +Cordova and to Chili?’” + +Pepa, frightened at the _gaucho’s_ fierce voice and vehement manner, +burst into tears and fainted in her mother’s arms. Fernando hastily left +the house, his love—the last good sentiment his heart retained—exchanged +for bitter hate. + +It was not long after this incident, early upon a winter’s morning, that +Gil Perez, riding ahead of his waggons, which had camped on the banks of +the Rio Salado, discerned at the horizon a dozen black specks that +rapidly approached him. Soon he made them out to be horsemen, armed some +with lances, others with rifles. Deeming them suspicious, he rode back +and formed his caravan in order of battle. The waggons were arranged in +a circle, the bullocks inwards; arms were distributed to the men, and +from between the waggons the muzzles of pistols and blunderbusses +menaced those who should assail the fortress. These arrangements were +scarcely made when the party of horsemen slackened speed, and one of +them rode forward alone. At twenty paces from the waggons he drew rein +and removed the handkerchief, which partly concealed his face. + +“‘Don Gil,’ cried the horseman, ‘confess that the little muleteer +Fernando has given you a famous fright.’ + +“‘It is you,’ replied Perez, ‘what do you here? what do you want of us?’ + +“‘I have changed my trade, _amigo_; did I not once tell you that when I +should be tired of mule-driving, I had another trade in view? I am now +an ostrich hunter. A fine flock escaped from us this morning. Have you +not met it?’ + +“‘Another poor trade that you have taken to,’ replied Perez. ‘If that be +all you have to say to me, there was no need to charge down upon us with +your comrades like a band of robbers. When you first came in sight there +were some ostriches about a mile in front of me; if those are what you +seek, continue your hunt and leave us to continue our journey.’ + +“During this parley, the bullock-drivers, believing danger past, ceased +to stand upon the defensive; Fernando’s comrades slowly approached and +carelessly mingled with them, rolling their cigarritos and entering into +conversation. Although suspecting no treachery, Perez hesitated to +resume his march so long as Fernando and his band were there. Thus the +halt was prolonged, and the ostriches, no longer frightened by the +creaking of wheels, reappeared upon a rising ground behind which they +had taken refuge. + +“‘Don Gil,’ exclaimed Fernando, ‘I will wager that my horse, which has +already done ten leagues to-day, will overtake one of those birds sooner +than yours, fresh though he be.’ + +“‘I have no time to try,’ replied Perez, annoyed at the delay; ‘the +place is not safe, and I am in haste to see the houses of Cordova.’ + +“‘Pshaw! a five minutes’ ride,’ said the muleteer; ‘come, one gallop, +and I will rid you of my company, and of that of my friends, with which +you do not seem over and above pleased.’ + +“‘So be it then,’ answered Perez, ‘and then I must be off;’ and he set +spurs to his horse. Fernando rode so close to him that their knees +touched. The _gauchos_ and drivers shouted to excite the two horses, +which seemed to fly over the plain; and the ostriches, finding +themselves pursued, fled their fastest, stretching out their necks, +beating the air with their short wings, and furrowing the ocean of tall +herbage by rapid zigzags right and left. The two horsemen gained upon +them. The furious race had lasted at least ten minutes, when Fernando +fell into the rear. Gil Perez, looking back to calculate the distance +that separated them, saw him brandishing a set of balls as big as his +fist.[14] ‘_Amigo_,’ cried he, without stopping, ‘those balls are big +enough to catch a wild horse.’ Whilst he sought, in his girdle, the +small leaden balls he proposed throwing round the ostrich’s neck, his +horse fell, his fore-legs entangled in the ropes that had just quitted +the muleteer’s hands. The violence of the fall was in proportion to the +rapidity of the ride. On beholding his rival roll in the dust, Fernando +uttered a triumphant shout. Perez, who had fallen upon his left side, +sought to extricate his sabre in order to cut the terrible cord which +shackled his horse’s legs. The poor brute, panting and covered with +foam, struggled violently for release. Before Gil Perez could draw his +weapon, the muleteer was on foot and held him by the throat. + +“‘You are a traitor and a coward!’ cried the unfortunate Perez, giddy +from his fall, and trying to shake his enemy off. ‘You have led me into +a snare to murder me!’ + +“‘That is not all,’ coolly replied the muleteer. ‘Look yonder; you see +that smoke, it proceeds from your waggons. The plain is on fire. ’Tis +you whom I was hunting, _carretero_ (waggoner); but for you I should +still be a muleteer. I have become a brigand. I have seen Pepa; she +rejects me. The traitor, I say, is you, who have ruined all my hopes.’ + +“Perez was active and vigorous: on equal terms his enemy would not have +dared contend with him; but surprise and terror paralysed his strength. +After deliberately stabbing him, Fernando passed a rope round his neck, +and, as he still breathed, dragged him to a neighbouring stream and +threw him into the water.” + +Gil Perez dead, most of his men, who had arms and were more than a match +for the banditti, joined the latter, plundered the waggons, killed the +oxen, and departed with their new comrades, those who had no horses +riding double. Fernando promised to take them to a place where they +could mount themselves well. He kept his word. One night, old Torribio, +who, ever since Fernando’s visit and the commencement of the civil war, +had kept vigilant watch, and frequently patrolled the neighbourhood of +the _esquina_, thought he heard voices in the forest. He bridled up the +horses, which he always had ready-saddled in the stable, and entreated +his mistress and her daughter to escape by the Cordova road. The two +women got upon the same horse; Torribio, armed with sabre and carbine, +mounted another, to escort them; Juancito, not understanding the danger, +leaped, light and laughing, into his saddle, whip in hand, and his sling +over his shoulder. The little party set out. They would have escaped an +enemy to whom the locality was not familiar. But Fernando had placed +spies round the posting-house, and lay in ambush upon the road to +Cordova. A bullet from Torribio’s carbine grazed the brigand’s cheek; +the next moment the faithful old servant lay in the road, his skull +cleft by a sabre-cut. Juancito escaped into the forest. His mother and +sister did the same, but were captured and taken back to the +posting-house, which was pillaged and afterwards burnt. The outlaws then +departed. Doña Ventura had supplied them plentifully with brandy, hoping +to escape during their intoxication, but Fernando drank nothing. When +the moment came for departure, he lifted Pepa upon his horse, repulsed +with his foot her despairing mother—who in vain struggled and clung to +her child—and rode off. Pepita, more dead than alive, uttered lamentable +cries. The muleteer heeded them not, but sang the lines he had sung upon +the memorable night when he found Gil Perez at the posting-house, and +left it with a sombre prediction that Pepa would drive him to evil. + + “No estès tan contenta, Juana, + En ver me penar por ti; + Que lo que hoy fuere de mi, + Podrá ser de ti mañana.” + +Doña Ventura’s fate is not upon record; she is believed to have perished +of hunger, misery, and cold. Juancito lost his way in the pampas. +Although bred in the desert, the poor boy had not sufficient experience +to guide himself by sun and stars. It was never known how long he held +out. Not many days after his flight, there was found, upon the frontier +of the Indian country, a child’s corpse, which was supposed to be his. A +whip hung from the wrist, and a sling was over the shoulder. The birds +of prey had made a skeleton of the body. + +The fate of poor Pepita was far worse even than that of her mother and +brother. Forced to follow the fortunes of the _gaucho malo_ and his +band, she was compelled to enliven their bivouacs by song and dance. At +first, even the rude desperados amongst whom she had fallen, were +inclined to pity her sufferings, but soon they imitated the contempt +with which Fernando treated her. Elegantly dressed, she accompanied them +everywhere; she was their ballet-dancer and opera-singer. Her duty was +to amuse those who rarely addressed but to insult her. She was known in +the country as the wife of the _gaucho malo_. Sometimes, in the night, +when the robbers, overcome by fatigue, slept to the last man, she might +have escaped; but whither could she fly? Their halts were generally in +places remote from all habitations; and even had she reached a farm or +village, what sort of welcome would there have been for the supposed +wife of the _gaucho malo_ and accomplice of his misdeeds? + +“After several months,” Mateo continued, “passed in rambling about the +plains, Fernando, emboldened by impunity and success, approached the +villages. Other bands, better organised and more numerous than his own, +spread terror through the province of Cordova. He profited by the +general confusion to take share in the fight, like a privateer who +spreads his sails in the wake of friendly frigates. The militia, called +out to oppose the insurgents who threatened the town of Cordova, were +beaten. The town remained in the power of the horsemen of the plain, and +the militia could not return to their homes, of which the enemy had +taken possession. They were forced to fly, exchanging a few parting +shots with roving corps that sought to impede their escape. I was of the +number of the fugitives. The company to which I belonged daily +diminished. Every man secretly betook himself to the place where he +hoped an asylum. Only twenty of us remained together, resolved to make +for the western provinces, and to cross the Andes into Chili: we had two +hundred leagues to get over before putting the frontier between us and +the enemy. + +“One evening, as we were riding through the sierra of Cordova, we +noticed a bivouac amongst the rocks. ‘Shall we reconnoitre that camp?’ I +asked of the officer who commanded us. ‘They are _gauchos_,’ he replied; +‘it is almost dark, we can pass them unperceived: the robbers are not +fond of fighting when there is no chance of booty;’ and we silently +continued our march. By the light of the bivouac fires, we made out a +dozen horsemen seated on the ground upon their saddles. Their lances +were piled in a sheaf in the middle of the camp; before them a woman was +dancing, her figure and movements clearly defined against the bright +fire-light. They did not hear us; we marched at a walk, pistol in +bridle, hand and carbine on thigh. We had already passed the bivouac +unperceived, and were closing up our files preparatory to starting off +at a gallop—it was no use fighting, the game was already lost—when a +young man in the rearguard imprudently fired at the group. In an +instant, the _gauchos_ were armed and on horseback. Then they paused for +a moment to see whence the danger came. We set up a loud shout, which +the echoes repeated. The _gauchos_ were terrified. Whilst they hesitated +to assume the offensive, we turned their camp. They fired half-a-dozen +carbines at us, but hit nobody. Those who had no firearms went about and +ran, and their example was quickly followed by the rest of the band. +Their flight was accelerated by the shots we sent after them. A few +fell, but we did not stop to count the dead. This useless victory might +betray our flight; our best plan was now to hasten on through the +ravines, and avoid for the future all similar encounters. + +“During the skirmish, the woman who had been dancing before the fire had +disappeared. We thought no more of her. Suddenly, as we formed up, a +shadow passed before the head of the column. ‘Who goes there?’ cried the +officer, and we quickly reloaded. ‘Who goes there?’ he repeated, probing +with his sabre the bushes that bordered the path. We listened, and +presently we heard a plaintive moan, followed by sobs. ‘It is a wounded +man,’ said the officer: ‘so much the worse for him, the devil a doctor +have we here!’ + +“‘Señores caballeros,’ cried the mysterious being that was thus hid in +the darkness, ‘have pity upon me—save me! He is dead! I am free! Ah! +mother, mother!’... + +“The officer had dismounted; a young girl threw her arms round his neck, +repeating the words: ‘Save me—he is dead!’ We had all halted. ‘It is the +dancing-girl,’ said the men; ‘she detains us here to give time to her +friends to return. It is the wife of the _gaucho malo_.’ + +“‘I am Pepa Flores,’ she vehemently replied, ‘the daughter of Doña +Ventura of the _esquina_! Ah, _señores_, you are honest people, you are! +Never, never have I been Fernando’s wife. Is there none here who knows +Doña Ventura?’ + +“I at once recognised Pepa’s voice. ‘She speaks the truth,’ I cried; ‘I +will answer for her. Come, Pepita, you have nothing to fear with us.’ + +“Fernando had perished in the skirmish. It was perhaps my hand that had +terminated the career of the formidable bandit, and liberated Pepita. +When she learned that her mother was dead—I myself was obliged to impart +to her the mournful fact, which everybody else knew—she shed a flood of +tears, and begged me to take her with me. A proscribed fugitive, I had +enough to do to take care of myself; but how could I resist the +entreaties of an orphan, who had neither friend nor relative in the +world?” + +All the fugitives pitied the poor girl, and were kind to her. Her +character had been changed, as well it might be, by her abode with the +_gaucho malo_ and his band. She was no longer the timid, indolent +creature whom Mateo had known at the posting-house; she was quick, +alert, courageous, and gave little trouble to anybody. At halts she made +herself useful, and was particularly grateful and attentive to Mateo, +whom she called her saviour and liberator. At the town of San Luis, he +would have left her in charge of a respectable family, but she wept +bitterly, and begged to follow his fortunes, disastrous though they +were. He was then for the first time convinced that she had never loved +either Fernando or Gil Perez. The poor girl had attached herself to the +man who had delivered her from dreadful captivity, and shown her +disinterested kindness. At Mendoza he again attempted to prevail on her +to accept of an asylum under a friendly roof, but with no better success +than at San Luis. The season was far advanced, snow rendered the passage +of the Andes dangerous and very painful. Mateo’s companions urged her to +wait till spring, when she might rejoin them at Santiago. She would not +hear of delay. Her vision was fixed upon Chili and its Paradise Valley, +Valparaiso. Providing themselves with sheepskins for protection against +the cold, and abandoning their arms, now a useless encumbrance, the +party commenced the toilsome ascent. They got on pretty well until they +reached the region of snow. There they were obliged to quit their +horses, and to climb on foot the steep and frozen acclivities, bearing +on their shoulders heavy loads of provisions and fuel, their legs +wrapped in fur, and handkerchiefs tied over their ears. Pepita, her head +and neck enveloped in a large shawl, marched stoutly along, and often +led the way, bounding like a mountain goat. Three days passed thus. +There were frequent falls upon the frozen snow, many narrow escapes from +death in a torrent, or over a precipice. The enormous condor hovered +over the heads of the weary pilgrims, as if hoping a repast at their +expense. At last they reached the foot of the Cumbre, the last steep +they had to climb before commencing their descent into a milder climate, +and a land of refuge. An icy wind blew, a driving snow fell: it was +doubtful whether the Cumbre could be ascended upon the morrow. The +wanderers halted early, in a hut known by the ominous name of _Casucha +de Calavera_ (the Cabin of the Skull). They had still a little wine in +their ox-horns, which they heated and drank, and then wrapped themselves +in their blankets and lay down to sleep. At midnight the wind was still +high, but the snow had ceased, and they determined to proceed. The +reflection of the sun from the snow had so fatigued their eyes, that +they travelled in the night as often as they could safely do so. Their +next stage was almost perpendicular, but it was unbroken by precipices, +and they thought they might risk progress. They would have done more +prudently to await daylight, but they were eager to cross the +frontier—to reach the summit of the Cumbre, the boundary-line between +Chili and the Argentine provinces. They began to ascend. Poor Pepa’s +feet were swollen, and she suffered in walking, but she was as +courageous as ever, and made light of hardship. Soon the travellers +entered a dense fog: they no longer saw the stars; all around them was +white as a shroud. The fog became sleet; they plodded wearily on, +supporting themselves with their sticks, sometimes on hands and knees. + +“I was so weary,” said Mateo, “that I thought I was in a dream. I had no +sensation in my body, but my head was very painful. A few paces off, I +heard the frozen snow crack gently under Pepa’s feet, and I discerned +her form accompanying me like my shadow. Snow succeeded the sleet; it +fell in heavy flakes, and accumulated so rapidly as to threaten burial +to laggards. The path—or rather the track—was invisible; in spite of all +my efforts to follow it, I felt that I was deviating. I called to Pepa, +but neither her voice nor the voices of my comrades replied; we were +scattered. I walked on at random, I know not for how long. When daylight +came, I found myself in a deep ravine, amidst snowdrifts and glaciers. +Right and left, as far as I could see, was a vista of similar valleys. +Not a vestige of Pepa or of my comrades. My strength failed me. With +great difficulty I crept into a sort of cave amongst the rocks. There I +fell asleep.” + +He would have perished but for Pepa, who, on discovering his absence, +spurred his comrades, by her reproaches, to a search for the friend whom +their own terrible sufferings and fatigues would have induced them to +abandon. There was, indeed, little chance of finding and saving him, and +the men would have been fully justified in consulting their own safety, +and pushing forwards. But a woman’s courage shamed them. Pepa, _esperaba +desesperada_—despairing, she still hoped. She nobly paid her debt of +gratitude to her deliverer. His life was saved, but hers was lost. Her +hands and face cut and bleeding from the cold, her legs scarcely able to +support her, she traced him out. It was still in time; friction restored +him to consciousness. But the sunlight had scarcely greeted his eyes, +when a cry of distress reached his ears. A treacherous crust of snow, +covering a crevice of incalculable depth, gave way beneath Pepa’s feet, +and she disappeared for ever. + +The whole of this sketch—of which we have given but a bare outline, +omitting many incidents—is full of life, interest, and character, +although it is to be remarked and regretted that Mr Pavie’s style is +deficient in that terseness and vigour which enhance the fascination of +narratives of adventure. He is too diffuse and explicit, dwells too +lovingly upon details, distrusts his readers’ intelligence, and is +rather sentimental than energetic. “Pepita” is decidedly the best of his +South American sketches. That entitled “The Pinchegras” has interest. +For several years after the battle of Ayacucho had finally overthrown +Spanish dominion in Chili, an armed band, known as the Pinchegras, from +the name of their chief, still upheld the banner of Castile. Pablo +Pinchegra began his singular career with his brothers and a few +vagabonds for sole followers. They formed a mere gang of robbers. +Presently he was joined by several Indian caciques and their warriors, +and then by a Spaniard named Zinozain and five-and-twenty men, who +carried arms in the names of Ferdinand and Spain. Thenceforward +Pinchegra adopted the same rallying cry; at the end of 1825 the +“royalist army” numbered eight hundred men, including Indians, and +gained an important advantage over the Chilian troops at Longabi, where +a squadron of cavalry was annihilated by the long lances of the Indians. +The Spanish faction in Chili, encouraged by this unexpected success, +recognised Pinchegra as their champion, and supplied him with arms and +munitions of war. Deserters from the army of the Republic, adventurers +of all kinds, flocked to his standard, beneath which a thousand men were +soon ranged. With these and his Indian allies to support him, he found +himself master of a large track of country, attacked and pillaged towns, +carried off cattle and women to his camp in the Andes, and made his name +everywhere dreaded. It was found necessary to send large bodies of +troops against him. These accomplished little; and it was not until 1832 +that his band was completely defeated and broken up—or rather, cut to +pieces—he himself having previously been betrayed to his enemies, and +shot. No quarter was given to the fugitives, and the victor’s bulletin +(but Spanish bulletins are proverbially mendacious) stated that only +four men of the army—for it then really was a small army—escaped the +slaughter. The Indian auxiliaries had run at the beginning of the +action. With one of the four survivors, a _caudillo_, or chief of some +mark, named Don Vicente, Mr Pavie fell in at Mendoza, during the winter +he passed there. The Pinchegra was silent and mysterious enough; but a +young French physician, settled in the place, told his countryman the +history of the last body of men that maintained with arms the right of +Spain to her South American colonies. It is an interesting narrative, +comprising much personal adventure, and numerous romantic episodes. The +story of _Batallion_, an Indian foundling, adopted by a cavalry +regiment, in whose ranks he serves and is slain, and that of Rosita, a +lovely _Limeña_ who loved and was abandoned by an English naval officer, +and whom Mr Pavie saw in the madhouse at Lima, where she inquired of +every foreign visitor whether the frigate had returned, complete the +South American portion of a very interesting book. + + + + + NAPOLEON AND SIR HUDSON LOWE.[15] + + +One of the most distinguishing features of public life in England is the +judgment exercised upon the character of its public men. In other +countries the public man is generally seen through a haze of opinion. +The minister of a foreign monarchy stands in the clouded light of the +throne. If eminent, his fame is the result of secret councils, unknown +circumstances, and personal influences almost purposely hidden from the +national mind. If unsuccessful, his failures are sheltered under his +partnership with the higher powers. He is hidden in the curtains of the +Cabinet. At all events, he divides this responsibility with the monarch +whose choice has placed him in office, and whose influence retains him +in power. There are no publications of private correspondence, no +despatches, except garbled ones; no secret instructions, hereafter to be +developed. All the materials for forming a true estimate of the minister +are withheld, by suppressing all the materials for forming a true +estimate of the man. Even if a biography of the individual is written, +either by a friend or an enemy, it is generally greatly destitute of +that evidence from which alone posterity can come to a rational +conclusion. But in England—and it is to the honour of England—the career +of the public man is almost incapable of misconception. He has seldom +been chosen by the caprice of power. He must have given pledges as to +character. Parliament has been the point from which he has launched into +the navigation of public life; his principles must have undergone a +probation before his possession of office, and the whole course of his +after life is registered by correspondences, despatches, and authentic +memorials, which may be made public at the requisition of any member of +the Legislature. The twofold advantage of this publicity is, that public +justice is sure to be done to character, and that every man acts under a +sense of that enlarged responsibility which is the safest guardian of +public honour. If even to this feeling there may be exceptions, this +view is the true theory of Ministerial life; and, among the imperfect +motives of all human virtue, it is not the least that the documents are +in existence, hourly accumulating, and sure to be brought forward, which +shall testify to the nation and the world against every act of +individual shame. + +The record to which we now advert is a collection of letters, +despatches, and orders, on a subject which formed some years ago the +chief topic of Europe—the detention of Napoleon at St Helena. The +treatment by the British officer to whom he was given in charge, the +commands of Government, and the character of his captivity, are now, for +the first time, laid before the world on the testimony of unanswerable +documents; and an authentic form is now given to the narrative of that +melancholy period which closed on the most eventful, disturbing, +changeful, and dazzling era of Europe for a thousand years; the fifth +act of the most magnificent drama of the modern world; the thunderstorm +which, combining all the influences of a world long reeking with +iniquity, the feculence of earth with the fires of heaven, at last burst +down, perhaps to purify the moral atmosphere, or perhaps to warn nations +of the still deeper vengeance to come, and startle them into +regeneration. + +We now give a brief sketch of the governor of St Helena. Sir Hudson Lowe +was born in Ireland, in Galway, in July 1769. His father was an +Englishman, who had served as a medical officer with the British troops +in the Seven Years’ War, and whose last service was as head of the +medical department in the garrison of Gibraltar, where he died in 1801. + +Shortly after the birth of Sir Hudson Lowe, his father’s regiment, the +50th, being ordered to the West Indies, he was taken out with it, and +thus underwent the first hazard of a life of soldiership. On his +return to England he was made an ensign in the East Devon +Militia—probably the youngest in the service, for he was but twelve +years old. In 1787 he was appointed to an ensigncy in the 50th +regiment, then at Gibraltar—arriving while the place was still in +ruinous confusion from the memorable siege. “The whole rock was +covered with fragments of broken shells and shot; and there was not a +house in the town, nor a building within the batteries, which did not +bear the marks of its devastation.” O’Hara succeeded to Elliot as the +governor, and seemed resolved to signalise himself by his discipline. +“I was once,” says Sir Hudson, “proceeding with the escort, in order +to reach the barrier-gate by daybreak, with my head down, to stem, as +well as I was able, the tremendous gusts of rain and wind, when I +heard myself very sharply spoken to by a mounted officer, who desired +me to ‘hold up my head and look what I was about, for it was not as a +mere matter of form I was ordered on that duty.’” This officer was +General O’Hara. “This,” says the narrator, “is the only _real rebuke_ +I ever experienced from a superior officer during the whole course of +my military life.” He approves of the rebuke. On another occasion, on +parade, when the late Duke of Kent happened to have done something +which displeased the General—on a rebuke, in the presence of the +officers, the Prince said, “I hope, sir, I shall always do my duty.” +The General’s reply was, “And if you don’t, I shall make you do it.” +It, however, happened that this man of fierce tongue showed himself at +least _unlucky_ in the field; for, having been sent to take the +command of Toulon, then in possession of the Allies, he was taken +prisoner in an unsuccessful sortie, and carried off by the besiegers. + +On leave of absence, after four years’ duty in the garrison, Lowe, then +a lieutenant, travelled into France and Italy, and made himself master +of the languages of both; an accomplishment of prime value to a soldier, +and which was the pivot of his fortunes. On his return to Gibraltar, the +war having broken out, the 50th was ordered to Corsica, and garrisoned +Ajaccio—the residence of that family who were afterwards to enjoy such +splendid fortune. + +In a memorandum he says, “We were all delighted with our change of +quarters to Ajaccio. The town was well laid out, spacious, well built, +and the citadel had excellent accommodations, but not sufficient for all +the officers. One of the best houses was occupied by the mother and +sisters of Bonaparte. An officer of the 50th, of the name of Ford, was, +for a short time, quartered in the house, and spoke with much +satisfaction of the kind manner in which the family acted towards him. +The young girls—for such they were at that time—ran slipshod about the +house, but hardly any notice was taken of them. There were several balls +and parties given after our arrival there, but Madame Bonaparte was not +invited to them, on account of the situation of her two sons (in +France). She shortly after removed to Cargese, originally a Greek +colony, to a house which had been built or occupied by Count Marbœuf +while in the administration of that part of the island. It is not from +my own recollection I mention those circumstances, because, strange as +it may appear, I was not aware of the residence of any of the Bonaparte +family at Ajaccio during nearly two years when we were in garrison in +that town. I used frequently to hear Napoleon spoken of, but not as +connected with the exploits generally mentioned as giving the first +celebrity to his name—his share in the expulsion of the British from +Toulon.” + +The 50th subsequently served in Elba, Lisbon, and Minorca. To this last +place flocked a large body of Corsican emigrants, who were formed into a +corps called the Corsican Rangers, the charge of which was intrusted to +Lowe, then a captain. In 1800 they were attached to the Egyptian +Expedition under Abercromby, Lowe having the temporary rank of major. In +the famous landing at Aboukir, on the 8th of March 1801—one of the most +brilliant exploits ever performed by an army—the Corsican Rangers fought +on the right of the Guards, and were warmly engaged; they were present +also at the battle of Alexandria (March 21, 1801), when the dashing +attack of the French on the English lines was most gallantly +defeated;—an action which, in fact, involved the conquest of Egypt, for +the French fought no more, the rest of the campaign being a succession +of marches and capitulations. In this campaign the Major had the good +fortune to save Sir Sydney Smith’s life; for a picket, mistaking Sir +Sydney for a French officer, from his wearing a cocked hat (the English +wearing round hats), levelled their muskets at him, when Lowe struck up +their pieces and saved him. His activity in command of the outposts +received the flattering expression from General Moore—“Lowe, when you +are at the outposts, I always feel sure of a good night’s rest.” Moore, +in writing to Lowe’s father, said—“In Sir Ralph Abercromby he lost, in +common with many others, a good friend; but his conduct has been so +conspicuously good, that I hope he will meet with the reward he merits.” +In Sir Robert Wilson’s history of the campaign, Lowe is mentioned as +“having always gained the highest approbation,” and his Corsican Rangers +as exciting, from their conduct and appearance, “the general +admiration.” + +On the Peace of Amiens they were disbanded, but Lowe was confirmed in +his rank of Major-Commandant; and after being placed on half-pay, was +appointed to the 7th or Royal Fusileers, on Moore’s recommendation; +adding, “It is nothing more than you deserve; and if I have been at all +instrumental in bringing it about, I shall think the better of myself +for it.” This generous testimony continued to influence Lowe’s fortunes; +for on his arrival in England, in 1802, he was appointed one of the +permanent Assistants Quartermaster-General. “I have known you,” said +Moore, “a long time; and I am confident your conduct, in whatever +situation you may be placed, will be such as to do honour to those who +have recommended you.” He soon obtained a mark of still higher +confidence. Before he had been many weeks in England, he was sent on a +secret mission to Portugal, for the purpose of ascertaining the state of +Oporto and the neighbouring cities. On this occasion he expressed his +opinion of the practicability of defending the country by united British +and Portuguese. Thus he gave an opinion contradictory to that of Europe, +but subsequently realised with the most admirable success by Wellington. + +He then proceeded to the Mediterranean, with an order to raise another +regiment of Corsican Rangers. In the course of service with this corps, +he commanded at Capri, in the Bay of Naples; and as the loss of this +place formed one of the chief themes of foreign obloquy on this officer, +we enter into a slight statement of the facts, less for the clearance of +his character, than for the more important purpose of showing how truth +may be mutilated, partly by negligence in the general narrative, and +partly by exaggeration in the personal enemy. + +The island of Capri, in May 1806, had surrendered to a British squadron. +Its possession was of value as blocking up the Bay of Naples. Colonel +Lowe, with five companies of his regiment, and a small detachment of +artillery, were sent in May to garrison the island. The whole regiment +was subsequently sent. In August, Murat took possession of the kingdom +of Naples, and his first expedition was to Capri, whose possession by a +British force, seen from the windows of his palace, continually molested +him. Accordingly, on the 4th of October, an embarkation under General +Lamarque attempted a landing near the town of Capri. Lowe with his +Rangers hastened to the spot, and drove the enemy back to their ships. +The island is three miles long, and about two miles across, and had 4000 +inhabitants. Lowe had demanded a force of 2190 men for its defence. The +whole number under his command were 1400, of whom 800 were a regiment of +Maltese, of a miscellaneous description, and but imperfectly +disciplined, though commanded by a gallant officer, Major Hammill. Lowe +placed this regiment in Ana-Capri, an elevated district, on a platform +of rock, to be ascended only by 500 steps of stone. The French landed +2000 men there. The Maltese regiment dispersed themselves, +notwithstanding the utmost efforts of Major Hammill, who, disdaining to +follow their flight, was killed; finally, the whole of the Maltese +regiment were taken prisoners. Thus the 1400 men were reduced to 600, in +the presence of a French force of 3000! Lowe’s object was now +necessarily confined to defending the town of Capri, which he did +vigorously, for ten days of frequent attacks, in the hope of being +succoured by the English squadron, which would have turned the tables on +the besiegers, and caught the French General in a trap. But, from some +cause not easily accountable, the fleet did not appear, and the Corsican +Rangers were left to the rotten and unprepared ramparts of the town. On +the 15th the French cannon had made a practicable breach. Lowe still +held out, and attempted to erect new defences under the fire of the +French guns; but the walls were crumbling, and the cannon of the town +were rendered nearly unserviceable by the enemy’s fire. The French +flotilla also approached. In the evening Lamarque sent in a flag of +truce, demanding the surrender of the garrison as prisoners of war, with +the exception of Lowe and five or six of his officers. Lowe would permit +no distinction between his officers and soldiers, nor suffer the words +“prisoner of war,” positively refusing to accept of any other terms than +“to evacuate his post with his arms and baggage.” On these terms alone +the town was surrendered, and on the 20th the garrison embarked at the +Marina, “with all the honours of war.” In addition, it deserves to be +remembered that, on Lamarque’s demanding that several of the foreigners, +who had enlisted in the British service while prisoners, should be given +up to him, Lowe’s spirited answer was, “You may shoot _me_, but I will +never give up a single man.” + +On this occasion he received many flattering letters on his defence of +the island under such difficulties; and among the rest, one from +Major-General Lord Forbes, expressing the sense which must be +entertained by his superior, Sir John Stuart, “of the unremitting zeal, +ability, and judgment which his conduct had displayed, under the trying +circumstances of Capri.” + +After various services on the Italian coast, Colonel Lowe with his +regiment was ordered on an expedition against the Ionian Islands, then +garrisoned by the French. On their conquest, he was appointed governor +of Cephalonia and Ithaca, with a recommendatory circular from General +Oswald, commanding the expedition, and congratulating the people on the +government of an officer “who had shown himself the common father of all +ranks and classes of their communities.” In 1812 he obtained the rank of +full Colonel, and returned on leave to England. “I was then,” he says, +“in my twenty-fourth year of service, and had never been absent a single +day from my public duty since the commencement of the war in 1793. I had +been in England only once during that time.” His services were still +required by Government in matters of importance; in inspecting foreign +regiments to be taken into English pay; in attendance on the +negotiations for the accession of Sweden to the Grand Alliance, &c. &c. +At the Swedish Court he met the “Queen of the Blues,” the celebrated +Madame de Stael, talking politics as usual. She had begun her +performances in Sweden with writing a letter of thirty pages to +Bernadotte, _instructing him_ how to govern the Swedes; but she was not +always guilty of this extravagance of _presumption_. Silly in her +political ambition, she was hospitable in her home. A little theatre was +formed in her house—for the French, even in exile, cannot live without +the follies of the theatre—where she and her daughter exhibited scenes +from the _Iphigenie_ of Racine. How her physiognomy might have agreed +with the requisitions of the stage, it is difficult to conjecture, for +Nature never clothed a female with a more startling exterior. She +afterwards performed in a farce of her own, in which her daughter +exhibited as a dancer! And those were the entertainments for ambassadors +and princes!—for Bernadotte, then Prince-Royal, came in, but soon +disappeared. We should by no means wish to see the manners of foreign +life adopted by the pliancy of Englishwomen. + +The prince is thus described: “I have never seen so remarkable a +countenance as that of Bernadotte; an aquiline nose of most +extraordinary dimensions—eyes full of fire—a penetrating look—with a +countenance darker than that of any Spaniard—and hair so black that the +portrait-painters can find no tint dark enough to give its right hue: it +forms a vast bushy protuberance round his head, and he takes great +pains, I understand, to have it arranged in proper form.” When we had +the honour of seeing the prince, which we did in Pomerania, when he was +about to march his army to the camp of the Allies, every lock of his +hair was curled like a Brutus bust displayed in the window of a Parisian +_perruquier_. From Sweden Colonel Lowe was summoned by Lord Cathcart, +then ambassador to Russia, to join him at the Imperial headquarters in +Poland. After an interview with the Czar, he joined the Allied troops, +and was present at the hard-fought battle of Bautzen on the 20th and +21st of May. Here he first saw that extraordinary man, whom he +afterwards was to see under such extraordinary circumstances of change. +In his correspondence with Lord Bathurst, the Colonel says—“Between the +town of Bautzen and the position of the Allies is a long elevated +ridge.... In the morning a body of the enemy’s troops was observed to be +formed on its crest. In their front a small group was collected, which +by our spyglasses we discovered to be persons of consequence in their +army. Among them was most clearly distinguishable Napoleon himself. He +advanced about forty or fifty paces, accompanied only by one of his +marshals (conjectured to have been Beauharnais), with whom he remained +in conversation, walking backwards and forwards (having dismounted) for +nearly an hour. + +“I was on an advanced battery in front of our position, and had a most +distinct view of him. He was dressed in a plain uniform coat, and a +star, with a plain hat, different from that of his marshals and generals +(which were feathered); his air and manner so perfectly resembling the +portraits that there was no possibility of mistake. He appeared to me +conversing on some indifferent subject; very rarely looking towards our +position, of which, however, the situation in which he stood commanded a +most comprehensive and distinct view.” + +In October, through Sir C. Stewart (now Marquis of Londonderry), he was +attached to the army under that great and bold soldier, Marshal Blucher, +and was with him in every battle from Leipsic to Paris. His description +of the horrors of the French retreat, after the battle of Leipsic, +unfolds a dreadful picture of the sufferings of war. “For an extent of +fifty miles, on the French route, there were carcasses of dead and dying +horses without number; bodies of men, who had been either killed, or +died of hunger, sickness, and fatigue, lying in the roads and ditches; +parties of prisoners and stragglers brought in by the Cossacks; blown-up +ammunition waggons, in such numbers as absolutely to obstruct the +road.... Pillaged and burning towns and villages marked, at the same +time, the ferocity with which the enemy had conducted himself.” + +In the close of this memorable year, Colonel Lowe was ordered to Holland +on a commission for organising the Dutch troops who were to join Sir +Thomas Graham’s army; but (as it appears), at his own request, his +destination was changed for the Prussian army, under Blucher, then +crossing the Rhine. He was present at all the battles fought by that +army on their march through France, forming, with its four German +actions, no less than _thirteen_—of which _eleven_ were fought against +Napoleon in person. + +In all those campaigns he gallantly took the soldier’s share, being +constantly at the Marshal’s side; being present, on one occasion, when +he was wounded; on another, when the Cossack orderly was shot beside +him; and on two others, when he narrowly escaped being made prisoner, +being obliged to make a run of it, with the whole of his retinue, +through a party of the enemy; Bonaparte also having been nearly taken by +him in the same way, on the same day. He was present at the conferences +of Chatillon, where he strongly joined those opinions which were in +favour of the “March to Paris;” and he had the honour of bearing the +despatch to England announcing the abdication of Napoleon; which was +instantly published from the Foreign Office, in a “Gazette +Extraordinary.” Colonel Lowe was received with great distinction. The +Prince-Regent immediately knighted him; and the Prussian order of +Military Merit was conferred on him, with the order of St George from +the Emperor of Russia. + +In 1814 Sir Hudson Lowe was promoted to the rank of major-general, and +appointed quartermaster-general to the British troops in the +Netherlands, commanded by the Prince of Orange. In that capacity he +visited the fortresses on the frontier, and drew up reports on their +restoration. It is remarkable that among his plans was the +recommendation of building a Work at Mont _St Jean_, as the commanding +point at the junction of the two principal roads from the French +frontier, on the side of Namur and Charleroi, to Brussels, and the +direction in which an army must move for the invasion of Belgium. How +much earlier the battle of Waterloo would have terminated, and how many +gallant lives might have been saved by the possession of a fortress in +the very key of the position, we may conjecture from the defence of +Hougomont, where the walls of a mere farmyard, defended by brave men, +were sufficient to resist the entire left wing of the enemy during that +whole hard-fought, decisive, and illustrious day. + +The news of Napoleon’s escape from Elba roused all Europe. It was at +once the most dexterous performance, and the most unwise act, of the +great charlatan of empire. He ought to have delayed it, at least for a +year. The negotiators at Vienna were already on the verge of discontents +which might have broken up the general alliance; the troops were on the +point of marching to their homes: thus Europe was about to be left +without defence, or even to a renewal of hostilities. But the escape of +Napoleon sobered all. The universal peril produced the universal +reconciliation. And the Manifesto was issued in the shape of a universal +declaration, proclaiming Napoleon Bonaparte the enemy of mankind. + +The position of Sir Hudson Lowe at Brussels made his advice of +importance. The question was, where the Allied armies should expect the +attack? The Prussian generals were of opinion that they should be +prepared on the side of Switzerland and Mayence. Sir Hudson Lowe, more +sagaciously, affirmed that Brussels would be the object. Count +Gneisenau, the Prussian quartermaster-general, finally decided to wait +for the opinion of the Duke of Wellington on his arrival in the +Netherlands. At this period, while matters remained in a state of +uncertainty as to the movements of France, Sir Hudson Lowe was offered +the command of the British troops at Genoa, intended to act with the +Austro-Sardinian army, and the squadron under Lord Exmouth, against the +south of France. Unwilling to quit the great Duke, he waited on him for +his opinion. As all recollections of Wellington are dear to his country, +we give his few words, in which, after saying that Sir W. Delancy (as +his successor) might not at once be _au fait_ at the business of the +Office, and as Sir G. Murray, “who had been with him for six years, was +only on his return from Canada, still he did _a good deal of his own +business_, and _could do business with any one_.” In short, “it was a +case that must be left to himself.” + +Accordingly, he remained with the Duke until the beginning of June, and +then went to take his command. On his way through Germany, he met at the +Imperial headquarters Blucher, Schwartzenberg, and the Czar. With the +last he had the honour of a conversation. The Czar received him in his +cabinet, quite alone; took him by the hand; said that he was glad to see +him, but that it was an unfortunate circumstance which compelled him +(the Czar) to come forward; that oceans of blood might be again spilt; +but that, while that man (Napoleon) lived, there would be no hope of +repose for Europe; that armies must be kept up by every nation on a war +footing; and that, in short, there appeared no other alternative than +carrying on the war with vigour, and thus bringing it to the speedier +close. The Czar spoke in English. He asked many other questions; but +seemed most gratified by knowing that the force under the Duke of +Wellington, instead of being 60,000 men, was, with the Allied forces of +the Netherlands, not less than 100,000. + +On reaching Genoa, the expedition sailed to the south of France; but all +the cities having suddenly hoisted the white flag, the war was at an +end. + +Now began the only portion of his prosperous and active career, which +could be called trying and vexatious. On the 1st of August 1815 he +received an order to return immediately to London, for the purpose of +taking charge of Napoleon Bonaparte. + +On his arrival in Paris he had communications with all the Cabinet. Lord +Castlereagh asked him his opinion of the possibility of Napoleon’s +escape. He answered that he could see none, except in case of a mutiny, +of which there had been two instances at St Helena. But on being +informed of the nature of the intended garrison, he answered that its +chance would be proportionably diminished. This was the only +conversation which he ever had with Lord Castlereagh. On reaching +London, he received the Ministerial orders for the charge of his +memorable prisoner. By Lord Liverpool’s authority, he was told that if +he remained in charge for three years, the royal confidence, and, we +presume, the royal reward, “should not stop there.” Lord Ellenborough, +Chief-Justice, assured him, “that in the execution of the duty the law +would give him every support.” On the 23d of August, the Directors of +the East India Company appointed him governor of St Helena; the command +of the troops, with the local rank of lieutenant-general, was given to +him; and his salary was fixed at £12,000 a-year. + +The regulations for the safe keeping of Napoleon, adopted by the +Secretary of War and Colonies, Lord Bathurst, and delivered to Sir +George Cockburn, were (in outline) as follows:— + +1. When General Bonaparte shall be removed from the Bellerophon to the +Northumberland, there shall be an examination of the effects which the +General shall have brought with him. + +2. All articles of furniture, books, and wine, which the General shall +have brought, shall be transhipped to the Northumberland. + +3. Under the head of furniture is the plate, provided it be not to such +an amount as to bespeak it rather an article of convertible property +than for domestic use. + +4. His money, diamonds, and negotiable bills of exchange, are to be +given up. The admiral will explain to him that it is by no means the +intention of Government to confiscate his property, but simply to +prevent its being converted into an instrument of escape. + +The remainder consists of details. In the event of his death, the +disposition of his property was to be determined by his will, which +would be strictly attended to. + +Bonaparte was to be always attended by a military officer; and if he was +permitted to pass the boundaries allotted to him, the officer was to be +attended by an Orderly. No individual of his suite was to be carried to +St Helena but with his own consent, it being explained to him that he +must be subject to the restraints necessary for the security of +Bonaparte’s person. All letters addressed to him were to be delivered to +the admiral, or governor, and read by them. Bonaparte must be informed, +that any representation addressed to Government would be received and +transmitted, but must be transmitted open to the governor and admiral’s +inspection, that they might be enabled to transmit answers to any +objections. If Bonaparte were to be attacked with serious illness, the +governor and admiral were each to direct a medical person, in addition +to his own physician, to attend him, and desire them to report daily on +the state of his health. Finally, in the event of his death, the admiral +was to give orders for the conveyance of his body to England. + +It would be difficult to conceive arrangements less severe, consistently +with the urgent necessity of preventing another war. + +On the embarkation on board the Northumberland, the arms were to be +taken from the French officers on board; but to be packed carefully, and +put into the charge of the captain. Napoleon’s sword was not taken from +him, and the swords of the officers were restored on their arrival at St +Helena. Of this order, Count Montholon made a handsome melodramatic +story, in the following style: “His lordship (Lord Keith) said to him, +in a voice suppressed (assourdie) by vivid emotion, ‘England demands +your sword.’ The Emperor, with a convulsive movement, dropped his hand +on that sword, which an Englishman _dared_ to demand. The expression of +his look was his sole answer. It had never been more powerful, more +_superhuman_ (sur-humaine). The old admiral felt thunderstruck +(foudroyé). His tall figure shrank; his head, whitened by age, fell upon +his bosom, like that of a criminal humbled before his condemnation.” +This theatric affair Mr Forsyth declares to be _pure fiction_. The story +is contradicted even by Las Cases, who says, in his journal—“I asked, +whether it was possible that they would go so far as to deprive the +Emperor of his sword? The admiral replied that _it_ would be respected; +but that Napoleon was the only person excepted, as all the rest would be +disarmed.” The perpetual habit of frequenting the theatre spoils all the +taste of France. The simplest action of life must be told in +rhodomontade, and even the gravest facts must be dressed up in the +frippery of fiction. + +On the 7th of August 1815, Bonaparte was removed on board of the +Northumberland, with a suite of twenty-five persons, including Count and +Countess Bertrand, with their three children; Count and Countess +Montholon, with one child; and Count de Las Cases, with his son, a boy +of fourteen. As Mengeaud, the surgeon who had accompanied him from +Rochefort was unwilling to go to St Helena; O’Meara, the surgeon of the +Bellerophon, was chosen by Bonaparte, and allowed by Lord Keith to +attend him. + +They hove to at Madeira for refreshments, and landed at St Helena on the +15th of October. + +A letter of O’Meara to a Mr Finlayson at the Admiralty, gives a +characteristic detail of the voyage. “During the passage the ladies were +either ill the whole time, or fancied themselves to be so; in either of +which cases, it was necessary to give them medicine, in the choice of +which it was extremely difficult to meet their tastes or humours, or +their ever-unceasing caprice. What was most extraordinary, they never +complained of loss of appetite. They generally ate of every dish at a +profusely supplied table, of different meats, twice every day, besides +occasional tiffins, bowls of soup, &c. They mostly hate each other, and +I am the depositary of their complaints—especially Madame Bertrand’s, +who is like a tigress deprived of her young, when she perceives me doing +any service for Madame Montholon. The latter, to tell the truth, is not +so whimsical, nor subject to so many fits of rage as the other. + +“Bonaparte was nearly the entire of the time in perfect health. During +the passage, Napoleon almost invariably did not appear out in the +after-cabin, before twelve; breakfasted either in bed or in his own +cabin about eleven; dined with the admiral about five; stayed about half +an hour at dinner, then left the table and proceeded to the +quarter-deck, where he generally spent a couple of hours, either in +walking, or else leaning against the breech of one of the guns, talking +to De las Cases. He generally spoke a few words to every officer who +could understand him; and, according to his custom, was very inquisitive +relative to various objects. His suite, until the day before we landed +(three days after our arrival), invariably kept their hats off while +speaking to him, and then, by his directions, remained covered. He +professes his intention, I am informed, to drop the name of Bonaparte, +and to assume that of a colonel he was very partial to, and who was +killed in Italy. + +“He is to proceed in a few days to Longwood, the present seat of the +Lieutenant-governor, where there is a plain of above a mile and a half +in length, with trees (a great rarity here) on it. He is to have a +captain constantly in the house with him, and he is also to be +accompanied by one whenever he goes out. None of his staff are to go +out, unless accompanied by an English officer or soldier. + +“I had a long conversation with him the day before yesterday. Among +other remarks he observed, ‘Why, your Government have not taken the most +economical method of providing for me. They send me to a place where +every necessary of life is four times as dear as in any other part of +the globe; and not content with that, they send a regiment here, to a +place where there are already four times as many inhabitants as it can +furnish subsistence to, and where there are a superabundance of troops. +This is the way,’ continued he, ‘that you have contracted your national +debt—not by the actual necessary expenses of war, but by the unnecessary +expenses of colonies.’” + +Napoleon was in the habit of predicting the ruin of England, and +pointing out, we may presume, with no intention of warning, the +_blunders_ of that policy which, however, had rescued Europe from the +French yoke, and sent himself to moralise in a dungeon. “This island,” +said he, “costs, or will cost, two millions a-year, which is so much +money thrown in the sea. Your East India Company, if their affairs were +narrowly scrutinised, would be found to lose instead of gaining, and in +_a few years_ must become bankrupt. Your manufactures, in consequence of +the dearness of necessaries in England, will be _undersold_ by those of +France and Germany, and your manufacturers will be _ruined_.” All this +train of ill omen is profitable, if it were only to show how little we +are to depend upon the foresight of politicians. Here was unquestionably +one of the most sagacious of human beings delivering his ideas on the +future, and that not a remote future, not a future of centuries, but a +future within the life of a generation; and yet what one of these +predictions has not been completely baffled? The East Indian territories +of England have been constantly aggrandising for nearly forty years of +that period which was to have seen their bankruptcy. The manufactures of +England, instead of total failure, have been growing to a magnitude +unequalled in the annals of national industry, and are rapidly spreading +over the globe. England, instead of struggling with exclusion from +foreign commerce, and domestic disaffection, has possessed a peace, the +longest in its duration, and the most productive in its increase of +opulence, invention, and power, that Europe has ever seen. But if the +malignant spirit of her prisoner may be presumed to have perverted his +sagacity, his opinions were the opinions of the Continent; and every +statesman, from Calais to Constantinople, occupied himself by counting +on his fingers the number of years that lay between England and +destruction. Yet England still stands, the envy of all nations; and will +stand, while she retains her loyalty, her principle, and her honour; or, +rather, while she retains her religion, which includes them all. + +The exterior of St Helena is unpromising. “Masses of volcanic rock, +sharp and jagged, tower up round the coast, and form an iron girdle. The +few points where a landing can be effected are bristling with cannon.” +The whole has the evidence of the agency of fire; and from the gigantic +size of the strata, so disproportioned to its circuit, it has been +supposed the wreck of a vast submerged continent. But the narrow +valleys, radiating from the basaltic ridge forming the backbone of the +island, have scenes of beauty. A writer on the “Geognosy” of the island, +even describes those valleys as exhibiting an alternation of hill and +dale, and luxuriant and constant verdure. Even Napoleon, in all his +discontent, admitted that it had “good air.” Or, as in some more +detailed remarks transmitted by Las Cases—“After all, as a place of +exile, perhaps St Helena was the best. In high latitudes we should have +suffered greatly from cold; and in any other island of the tropics we +should have expired miserably, under the scorching rays of the sun. The +rock is wild and barren, no doubt; the climate is monstrous and +unwholesome; but the temperature, it must be confessed, is mild +(douce).” + +It is of some importance to the national character to touch on those +matters, as they show that Napoleon was not sent for any other purpose +than security of detention. A West Indian island might have unduly +hastened the catastrophe. A letter from Lieutenant-Colonel Jackson gives +even a more favourable testimony than has been generally conceived. He +had been a resident for several years. + +“Lying within the influence of the south-east trade-wind, which is +usually a strong breeze between the Cape and St Helena, the tropical +heat is moderated thereby to a delightful temperature, and perhaps there +is no finer climate to be found than in certain parts of St Helena. In +the town, I rarely saw the thermometer above 80°, while the general +height may have been about 75°. But I write from memory, having lost my +register of the temperature. Between Longwood and Jamestown there is a +difference of eight or ten degrees. A fire is rarely necessary, unless +perhaps as a corrective of the dampness produced by fog, to which the +elevated portions of the island are occasionally liable. I believe the +average duration of life to be much as in England.” + +Mr Henry, who was stationed in the island as assistant-surgeon during +Napoleon’s residence, gives even a more decided testimony. “For a +tropical climate, only 15° from the line, St Helena is certainly a +healthy island, if not the _most_ healthy of the description in the +world. During one period of twelve months, we did not lose _one_ man by +disease out of five hundred of the 66th quartered at Deadwood. In 1817, +1818, and 1819, Fahrenheit’s thermometer, kept at the hospital, ranged +from fifty-five to seventy degrees; with the exception of calm days, +when it rose to eighty. In Jamestown, from the peculiar radiation of +heat to which it was exposed, the temperature was sometimes upwards of +ninety.... There is no endemic in the island.... The upper parts of St +Helena, including the residence of Bonaparte, are decidedly the most +healthy, and we often moved our regimental convalescents from Jamestown +to Deadwood for cooler and better air. The clouds moved so steadily and +regularly with the trade-wind that there appeared to be no time for +atmospherical accumulations of electricity, and we never had any thunder +or lightning. No instance of hydrophobia, in man or any inferior animal, +had ever been known in St Helena.” + +We shall limit ourselves to an outline of the transactions referring to +Napoleon. He landed at Jamestown on the evening of the 17th of October, +where he remained for the night, and on the next day removed to the +“Briars,” the country house of Mr Balcombe, who afterwards became +purveyor to the residence at Longwood. Two proclamations were +immediately issued by the governor, Colonel Wilkes, one cautioning the +inhabitants of the island against any attempt to aid the escape of +“General Napoleon Bonaparte;” and the other, prohibiting all persons +from passing through any part of the island (except in the immediate +vicinity of the town) from nine at night until daylight, without having +the _parole_ of the night; and a third, placing all the coasts, and +vessels or boats, under the control of the Admiral. A despatch from the +Admiral, to the Secretary of the Admiralty, explained the choice of +Longwood for the residence of the prisoner. “I have not hesitated on +fixing on it. Longwood is detached from the general inhabited parts of +the island, therefore none of the inhabitants have occasion, or are at +all likely, to be met with in its neighbourhood; it is the most distant +from the parts of the coast _always_ accessible to boats.” He then +mentions it as having an extent of level ground, perfectly adapted for +horse-exercise, carriage-driving, and pleasant walking. The house was +small, but it was better than any other in the island (out of the town) +except the governor’s; and by the help of the ships’ carpenters and +others, was capable of convenient additions. Repairs were accordingly +made, and everything was done that could fit it for a comfortable +residence. + +The system of discontent, remonstrance, and, we must add, +misrepresentation, was begun. A letter from the “Grand Marshal, Count +Bertrand,” led the way. It protested against everything, and +frequently applied the term “Emperor” to Napoleon. The Admiral’s reply +was fair and manly. It expressed regret for the necessary +inconveniences, and a desire to consult the wishes of General +Bonaparte; but said that he was authorised to apply _no_ title which +had not been given by his Government. This refusal was perfectly +justifiable, though it made one of the clamours of the time. The +custom of European diplomacy is _never_ to acknowledge a new title but +by treaty, and in return, if possible, for some concession on the part +of the claimant. The embarrassments connected with the opposite +practice are obvious. Where is the line to be drawn? If every ruler, +however trifling his territory, or however recent his usurpation, were +to fix his own title, all the relations of public life might be +outraged. The creature of every revolution might be authenticated the +legitimate possessor of sovereignty—an upstart received into the +family of kings, become a living encouragement to political +convulsion. All the declamation which was lavished on the denial of +the Imperial title to Bonaparte, amounted to the maxim, that success +justifies usurpation. If, in general life, no man can bear a title +without the sanction of the laws—to avoid the disturbance of the Civil +order, why should not the same sanction be demanded where the result +of concession without cause might influence the highest interests of +public life? There can be no question that the Imperial title, +continued to Napoleon by the credulity of Alexander, laid the +foundation of the renewed disturbances of France and Europe. It had +placed him within sight of power again; it had fixed the eye of French +conspiracy on him; it had conveyed to all his partisanship the idea +that he still was an object of fear to Europe, and it thus revived the +hope of his restoration. This dangerous concession made him, while at +Elba, the virtual Emperor of France—prompted him to contemplate the +resumption of the sceptre—pointed him out as a rallying point for +disaffection—connected his mock crown with his former sovereignty—and +left the peace of the world to the hazard of the die which was thrown +at Waterloo. + +If it be said that the concession which was dangerous at Elba was +trifling at St Helena, we have no hesitation in accounting for the +sudden forgetfulness of Napoleon exhibited by France to the refusal of +the title. “General” Bonaparte lived only in the recollection of a +broken army; the “Emperor” lived in the pride and passions of the +people. It was essential to dissolve this combination; to show that the +_prestige_ of his name existed no longer; that he was an object of fear +no more; and especially, that his connection with title-loving France +was to be cut asunder for the remainder of his existence. All this was +done, and could alone be done, by refusing to continue that title to the +prisoner, which England had loftily refused to him in the height of his +power. + +Even Napoleon himself was so fully convinced of the contradiction +between his present state and his former, that he subsequently wrote a +Memorial addressed to the Governor, containing this declaration: “Seven +or eight months ago Count Montholon proposed, as a means of removing the +little inconveniences which were ever recurring, the adoption of an +ordinary name.... I am quite ready to take any ordinary name; and I +repeat that, when it may be deemed proper to remove me from this cruel +abode, I am resolved to remain a stranger to politics, whatever may be +passing in the world. Such is my resolve; and anything which may have +been said different from this would not be the fact.” + +Unfortunately, it was wholly impossible to rely on any declaration of +this kind, and it would have been absolute folly to have hazarded the +peace of Europe on the contingency of Napoleon’s keeping his word. He +had gone to Elba with the same protest against politics, he had publicly +declared that his political life was ended; and the weakness of giving +credit to that declaration cost the lives of perhaps fifty thousand men, +and might have cost a universal war. + +If the strictness of the regulations at St Helena have been matter of +charge against this country, it is to be remembered that the highest +interests might have been endangered by his escape; that no royal +captive was ever so indulged before; and that England was but a trustee +for the tranquillity of the world. The instructions were the most +lenient possible, consistently with his safe keeping. A captain was to +ascertain his presence twice in the twenty-four hours. Whenever Napoleon +rode or walked _beyond_ the boundaries where the sentinels were placed, +he was to be attended by an officer. Napoleon and his attendants were to +be within his house at nine o’clock every night. + +If these restrictions might be considered severe, it is to be remembered +that they were only severities against the necessity of a second +Waterloo. It is to be observed, also, that these regulations all took +place before the arrival of Sir Hudson Lowe. The English mind revolts +against confinement of any kind; but the limits of Napoleon’s grounds, +within which he might take exercise _unattended_ by any officer, +embraced a circuit of _twelve_ miles! The ground was nearly flat, and +well covered with turf. On the plain of Deadwood, adjoining, was an +excellent race-course, a mile and a half long, of which one mile was in +a straight line. The house at Longwood had been used by the former +governor as a villa; but it was small, consisting only of five rooms. To +these, however, additions were made; the whole being merely a temporary +residence until the completion of a house on a larger scale, which was +preparing in England. + +It became the peevish custom of the French, on the arrival of Sir Hudson +Lowe, to contrast his conduct with that of Sir George Cockburn, and +speak of their satisfaction with the latter; but they quarrelled equally +with both. A letter from O’Meara to his correspondent Finlayson (not +printed in his volumes), says: “Napoleon inveighs most bitterly against +the English Ministry for sending him here. He has been for sometime back +at Longwood, where he is tolerably well lodged, considering the island.” + +As to his displeasure at being sent to the island, he should have +regarded himself as peculiarly well treated; for what must have been his +condition in the custody of any other government? He must have been sent +to a fortress with no other liberty of exercise than within the space of +the ramparts; he must have had sentinels everywhere on his steps, and +have been subjected to all the rigid regulations of a garrison, and +perhaps altogether separated from his attendants and general society. +The greater probability of escape in Europe would have required the +greater strictness; and the necessity of the case must have made his +confinement little better than that of the dungeon. What liberty was +allotted to Louis Napoleon in Ham for six years? What liberty was +allotted to Toussaint Louverture by Napoleon himself?—a damp dungeon +until he died. What liberty was allotted to the State prisoners under +the Empire?—or what liberty was allotted to the English officers +confined in the casemates of Biche? Instead of such restrictions, he had +a large space of a healthy island in which he might move, without watch +or ward, with a crowd of attendants of his own choice round him, with +such society as he chose to receive, with a sumptuous table kept for +him, and every deference paid to his fame and rank, compatible with that +essential point, the prevention of his escape, which he appears to have +been constantly meditating. + +An order prohibiting the general access of the population to Longwood +was now issued. Napoleon at this was in great indignation. He said to +O’Meara, “It was absurd to prohibit people from visiting him, while he +was at liberty to go out and call upon them.... I will never receive any +person coming with a pass from the Admiral, as I will immediately set +down the person receiving it as being _like the donor_, and a spy upon +me.”... Then becoming more warm, he said, “Who is the Admiral? I have +never heard his name as the conqueror in a battle, either singly or in +general action.... It is true, he has rendered his name in_famous_ in +America; and so he will now render it here, on this desolate rock.” + +Stopping then with much agitation, and looking at me earnestly—“Next to +your Government exiling me here, the worst thing they could have done, +and the most insufferable to my feelings, is sending me with such a _man +as_ HE. I shall make my treatment known to all Europe. It will be a +reflection and a stain on his posterity for centuries. What! does he +want to introduce Turkish laws into the Rock? Other prisoners under +sentence of death are allowed to communicate, by the laws of England and +all other civilised nations.” + +The fact was, that Napoleon wished to accomplish an object incompatible +with the purpose of his being sent to the island; he demanded all the +conveniences of perfect freedom—of course for the purpose of escape. +However, to avoid all shadow of cruelty, the passports were finally left +to the distribution of Bertrand. + +O’Meara further says, “He has since discovered that the Admiral’s +conduct has been most grossly and shamefully misrepresented and +blackened to him. The people he is surrounded by at present give me some +faint idea of what the court of St Cloud must have been during his +omnipotent sway. Everything here is disguised and mutilated.” + +Napoleon’s theatrical rants were sometimes amusing. Foreigners can rail +fluently enough at misfortune, but they always forget the share which +they had in bringing it on themselves. “Behold the English Government!” +said he one day, gazing round on the stupendous rocks which encompassed +him; “this is their liberality to the unfortunate, who, _confiding_ in +what is called their national character, in an evil hour gave himself up +to them! But your Ministers laugh at your laws. I thought once that the +English were a free nation; but I now see that you are the _greatest +slaves_ in the world. You all tremble at the sight of _that_ man.” + +“Another time, talking to me (O’Meara) about the island, he said, ‘In +fact, I expect nothing less from your Government than that they will +send out an executioner to _despatch_ me. They send me here to a +horrible rock, where even the water is not good. They send out a +_sailor_ with me, who does not know how to treat a man like me, and who +puts a camp under my nose, so that I cannot put my head out without +seeing my jailors. Here we are treated like felons: a proclamation is +issued for nobody to come near and touch us, as if we were lepers.’” + +O’Meara’s description of the officers in attendance on Napoleon is +sufficiently contemptuous. Of Montholon he speaks most offensively. He +admits Bertrand to be a “good man;” but he thus characterises Gourgaud, +whose quarrel with Sir Walter Scott once made some noise: “Gourgaud is +now recovering from dysentery. During his illness, I never saw a man +betray so much fear of dying as he did on various occasions. One night a +large black beetle got into the bed, and crawled up alongside of him. +His imagination immediately magnified the insect into a devil, or some +other formidable apparition, armed with talons, long teeth, and ready to +tear away his lingering soul from its mortal abode. He shrieked, became +terribly agitated and convulsed; a cold sweat bedewed his pallid face; +and when I entered he presented all the appearance of a man about to +expire, with the most terrific ideas of what would be his future lot; +and it was not till after a considerable time that he could be restored +to some degree of composure.” Gourgaud had in some degree provoked this +description by his previous _fanfaronades_. When he arrived in the +island he had produced a sword to the daughters of Mr Balcombe, on which +he had himself represented in the act of killing a Cossack who was about +to take Bonaparte prisoner, with a pompous inscription narrating the +feat. At the end of the blade he made them observe a spot, as if stained +with the blood of two Englishmen, slain by him at Waterloo. He gave the +last finish to this “passage of arms,” by saying, that in the same +battle he _might_ have made the Duke prisoner! “but that he saw the +business was decided, and he was unwilling to produce any further +effusion of human blood!” (“Credit—believe it who will,” says O’Meara.) +During Gourgaud’s illness, however, he seemed to have forgotten all his +chivalry—as, one day, “whining and lamenting over his state, he said, +with many _tears_, ‘He did not know for what he was exiled, for he had +never done harm to mortal man.’” + +O’Meara’s own history was a varied one. He had begun his course as an +assistant-surgeon in the 18th, in 1804; but a duel happening in the +regiment, in which he acted as second, a courtmartial was the +consequence, and he retired from the army. He then served as a naval +surgeon, for many years, in the Mediterranean and the West Indies, with +Maitland (captain of the Bellerophon), who gave him an advantageous +character. He was then selected as the surgeon in attendance on +Napoleon. The quick observation of that sagacious personage saw +instantly that O’Meara might be useful in more capacities than those of +his profession; he flattered him with his confidence, and converted him +into partisanship. + +Nothing but the extraordinary selfishness of Napoleon’s character could +have stooped to those perpetual complaints. A man who had sat upon the +first throne of the Continent ought to have felt that nothing, after +such a catastrophe, could be worth a care. A man of true grandeur of +mind, after having seen all the diadems of the Continent under his feet, +ought to have scorned any inferior degree of power—been utterly +indifferent to title, wealth, or the homage of dependents. A philosopher +would have despised the mockery of ex-emperorship; rejected the +affectation of a power which he was to possess no more; and, having been +once forced to submit to a change of fortune which displaced him from +the summit of society for ever, would have been contemptuous of living +on the fragments of his feast of supremacy. But Napoleon had no sense of +this generous and lofty disdain—he clung to the wrecks of his royalty. +He was as anxious to sustain the paltry ceremonial of kissing a hand, as +when he saw kings crowding to his palace; and showed as much fretfulness +at the loss of the most pitiful mark of respect, as he could at an +insult to a throne which threw its shadow across the civilised world. +This anomaly is easily explained. The spirit of selfishness belongs to +all foreign life. Its habits, its amusements, its perpetual passion for +frivolous excitement, its pursuit of personal indulgence in every shape, +high or low, utterly extinguish all the nobler attributes of +mind—substitute fierceness for fortitude, rashness for decision—and +feeble repinings against fate, for the dignity which makes defeat but +another occasion of showing the superiority of man to fortune. Napoleon +was selfishness embodied, and was as important to _himself_ at St Helena +as in the Tuileries. + +On the 10th of January 1816, Sir Hudson Lowe received a despatch from +Earl Bathurst, stating that, on his arrival at St Helena, he should +notify to all the attendants of Napoleon that they were at perfect +liberty to leave the island for Europe or America; but that those who +remained should declare, in writing, that they were prepared to submit +to the necessary restrictions. To Sir Hudson the orders were—“You are to +continue to treat Napoleon Bonaparte as a prisoner of war, until further +orders.” + +The governor reached St Helena on the 14th of April, and on the 16th he +visited Bonaparte, having given him previous notice of his intention. +The visit was unlucky, for even the hour was constituted into an +offence. Las Cases thus mentions the visit: “The new governor arrived at +Longwood about ten o’clock, notwithstanding the rain, which still +continued. He was accompanied by the admiral, who was to introduce him, +and who had, _no doubt_, told him that this was the most suitable hour +for his visit. The emperor did not receive him—he was indisposed; and +even had he been well, he would not have seen him. The governor, by this +abrupt visit, neglected the usual forms of decorum. It was easy to +perceive that this was a _trick of the admiral_. The governor, who +probably had no intention to render himself at all disagreeable, +appeared very much disconcerted. _We laughed in our sleeves._ As to the +admiral, he was quite _triumphant_. The governor, after long hesitation, +and very evident marks of ill-humour, took his leave rather abruptly. We +doubted not that this visit had been planned by the admiral, with the +view of prepossessing us against each other at the very outset.” + +The English reader of this incident will find in it the key to the whole +conduct of Napoleon and his attendants; _he_ was determined to turn +everything into an offence, and they were equally determined to turn +everything into an intrigue. The narrative foolishly and malignantly +represents the conduct of a naval officer of high character in the light +of a paltry _ruse_, and for no imaginable purpose but ill-will. “_They +laughed in their sleeves_” at the success of this ruse. The admiral was +_triumphant_, _because_ the governor was vexed; and Napoleon was, of +course, conqueror on the occasion. This is the most pitiful of all +gossip, and is unworthy of even the nursery. Let this be contrasted with +the manly account by the governor himself of the first interview which +took place next day at four. “I was accompanied by Sir G. Cockburn. +General Bertrand received us in the dining-room serving as an +antechamber, and instantly ushered me into an inner room, where I found +him (Napoleon) standing, having his hat in his hand. Not addressing me +when I came in, but apparently waiting for me to speak to him, I broke +silence by saying, ‘I am come, sir, to present my respects to you.’ ‘You +speak French, sir, I perceive; but you also speak Italian. You once +commanded a regiment of Corsicans.’ I replied, ‘the language was alike +to me.’ ‘We will speak, then, in Italian;’ and immediately commenced a +conversation which lasted about half an hour—the purport of which was +principally as follows. He first asked me, ‘where I had served?—how I +liked the Corsicans? They carry the stiletto; are they not a bad +people?’ (looking at me very significantly for an answer.) My reply +was—‘They do not carry the stiletto, having abandoned that custom in our +service. They have always conducted themselves with propriety; I was +very well satisfied with them.’ + +“He asked me if I had not been in Egypt with them; and on my replying in +the affirmative, he entered into a long discussion respecting that +country. ‘Menou was an imbecile. If Kleber had been there, _you would +have been all made prisoners_.’” To this ungracious remark the governor +seems to have abstained from any reply. How easily might he have +reminded Napoleon of Acre! and the difficulty which he found then of +taking prisoners even the crews of two English ships, who drove him from +the walls at the head of his army, and virtually, after hunting him from +Syria, drove him into the desertion of Egypt. In the French narratives +of war, the general who has been beaten is always an _imbecile_. It is +an extraordinary _trait_ of character in Napoleon to have ventured on +the subject at all. Yet he expatiated on it, as if he had never known +defeat on its shores. “He blamed Abercromby for not having landed +sooner, or for not proceeding to another point. Moore, with his six +thousand men, ought to have been all destroyed.” He admitted, however, +the bravery of the generals. “He asked me if I knew Hutchinson, and +whether he was the same who had been arrested at Paris” (for the escape +of Lavalette). “His question on this point betrayed great interest.” The +subject of Egypt was resumed. “It was the most important geographical +point in the world, and had always been considered so. He had +reconnoitered the line of the Canal across the Isthmus of Suez; he had +calculated the expense at ten or twelve millions of livres (half a +million sterling, he said, to make me understand more clearly the +probable cost of it); that a powerful colony being established there, it +would have been _impossible_ for us to have preserved our empire in +India.” + +This remark is an example of the dashing way in which foreigners settle +all the affairs of the world. If Napoleon had been asked to show how a +French colony in Egypt could have overthrown an Indian empire, he must +have been profoundly puzzled. A French colony would, doubtless, have +prevented the overland passage. Yet, _without_ that passage, India had +been ours, or in the direct progress to be ours, for a hundred years! +What could a colony in Egypt have done while the Red Sea was blocked up +by English ships? How could it transport an army over the Desert—through +Arabia, Persia, and the passes of the Himalaya?—and without an army, +what could they do in India? The much greater chance was, that a French +colony would have been starved or slaughtered, as the French army in +Egypt would have been, but for its capitulation. The same absurdity is +common to other services. The Russians, from the peasant to the throne, +think that India is at their mercy, from the instant of a battalion’s +appearing on the verge of Tartary, while they are forced to acknowledge +that the Desert is impassable by any army in summer; and General +Perowsky, in an expedition which decimated his army, half way to Thibet, +has proved it to be equally impassable in winter. Or, may we not ask, if +this mighty conquest is so much a matter of calculation, why have not +the poor and feeble tribes of the Caucasus been conquered in a war of +twenty years, within a stone’s throw of the Russian frontier?—while in +India, after a march across swamps, sands, and mountains, they would +have to meet an army of two hundred thousand men (easily increased to +half a million), led by British officers? + +The people of the United States are equally absurd in their speculations +on the conquest of Canada. They pronounce it ready to drop into their +hands, like fruit from the tree. Yet, every attempt at the invasion of +Canada has resulted only in ridiculous defeat! + +Napoleon again railed at Menou, and concluded with the remark, which he +pronounced in a very serious manner: “‘In war, the gain is always with +him who commits the fewest faults.’ It struck me as if he was +reproaching himself with some great error.” + +In this curious interview, Sir G. Cockburn’s having been shut out by a +mere accident was made the most of, as a charge of incivility against +the governor. We give Sir Hudson Lowe’s own version. He had been +accompanied by the admiral to Longwood. “In order that there might be no +mistake respecting the appointment being for Sir George Cockburn as well +as myself, I distinctly specified to Bertrand that we should go +together. We went, and were received in the outer room by Bertrand, who +almost immediately ushered me into Bonaparte’s presence. I had been +conversing with him for nearly half an hour, when, on his asking me if I +had brought with me the Regent’s speech, I turned round to ask Sir +George Cockburn if I had not given it to him? and observed, to my +surprise, that he had not followed me into the room. On going out, I +found him in the antechamber much irritated. He told me that Bertrand +had almost shut the door in his face as he was following me into the +room, and that a servant had put his arm across him. He said he would +have forced his way, but that he was expecting I would have turned round +to see that he was following me, when he supposed I would have insisted +on our entering the room together. I told him I knew nothing of his not +being in the same room till Bonaparte asked me for the Regent’s +speech.... Bonaparte was ready to receive him after I had left the room; +but he would not go in. Bertrand and Montholon have been with him since, +making apologies. But the admiral, I believe, is still not quite +satisfied about it.” + +Napoleon’s conversation was essentially rough, a circumstance to be +accounted for, partly by his birth, and partly by his camp education. +O’Meara mentions that Montholon, having brought a translation of the +paper which the domestics who desired to remain with him were to sign, +Napoleon, looking at it, said—“This is not French—it is not sense.” +“Sire,” said the other, “it is a literal translation of the English.” +“However,” said Napoleon, “it is neither French nor German (tearing it +in two)—_you are a fool_.” Then, looking it over, he said—“He makes a +translation into stuff, which is not French, and is nonsense to any +Frenchman.” + +As we are not the defenders of the governor, and the subject of mere +defence is now past by, we shall chiefly give abstracts of the +conversation of his memorable prisoner. He asked O’Meara if he had been +at Alexandria. “Yes, in a line-of-battle ship.” “But I suppose you could +not enter the harbour?” O’Meara told him, “that we soon found a passage +through which any vessel might go. This he would not believe for some +time, until I told him that I saw the Tigre and the Canopus, of eighty +guns each, enter with ease. ‘Why!’ said he, with astonishment, ‘that +Commodore Barré, whom you took in the Rivoli, was ordered by me to sound +for a passage when I was there, and he reported to me that there was not +a possibility of a line-of-battle ship’s entering the harbour.’ He +observed, then, ‘that the fleet might have been saved if he had done his +duty.’ I told him, then, that we had blocked up the passage by sinking +two vessels laden with stone in it; to which he replied, ‘that it was +easy to remove such obstacles.’” + +The expenses of Napoleon’s household were heavy. On the voyage out, +between the 8th of August and the 17th of November, they had consumed a +hundred dozens of wine, besides some casks of an inferior kind for the +servants. In one of the governor’s despatches to Lord Bathurst, two +fortnights’ accounts are given from Mr Balcombe, purveyor to Longwood. +The amount of one fortnight is an expenditure of £683, 5s. 4d.; and of +the other, £567, 10s. 4d.; the annual expense, at the former rate, thus +amounting to above £16,000, and at the latter to £13,000—nine persons, +with four children, being the family; the rest, with the exception of +the two officers in attendance, being servants—the whole number +amounting to 59. + +One day, on hearing that Napoleon had not been seen by the attendant +officer, the governor visited Longwood. “I passed,” said he, “through +his dining-room, drawing-room, and another room, in which were displayed +a great number of maps and plans laid out on a table, and several quires +of writing, and was then introduced into an inner room, with a small bed +in it, and a couch, on which Bonaparte was reclining, having only his +dressing-gown on, and without his shoes.” On the governor’s expressing +regret for his indisposition, and offering him medical advice, “I want +no doctor,” said he. On his asking “whether Lady Bingham had arrived, +and being answered that her non-arrival was owing to the delay of the +Adamant transport, which was also bringing wines, furniture, &c., for +Longwood, he said—‘It was all owing to the want of a chronometer; that +it was a miserable saving of the Admiralty not to give every vessel of +above two hundred tons one; and that he had done it in France.’ After a +pause, he asked—‘What was the situation of affairs in France when I left +Europe?’ I said, ‘Everything, I believe, was settled there.’ Beauchamp’s +Campaign of 1814 was lying on the floor near him. He asked me if I had +written the letters referred to in the appendix to this work. I +answered, ‘Yes.’ ‘I recollect Marshal Blucher at Lubeck,’ said he; ‘is +he not very old?’ ‘Seventy-five years,’ I replied, ‘but still +vigorous—supporting himself on horseback for sixteen hours a-day, when +circumstances render it necessary.’” + +Napoleon then, after a pause, returned to the usual observations on his +captivity. “I should have surrendered myself,” said he, to the Emperor +of Russia, who was my friend, or to the Emperor of Austria, who was +related to me. “There is courage in putting a man to death, but it is an +act of cowardice to let him languish, and to poison him in so horrid an +island, and so detestable a climate.” To the governor’s remark that St +Helena was not unhealthy, and that the object of the British Government +was, to make his residence on the island as satisfactory to himself as +possible, he said—“Let them send me a coffin—a couple of balls in the +head is all that is necessary. What does it signify to me whether I lie +on a velvet couch or on fustian? I am a soldier, and accustomed to +everything.” + +As to his repeated expression, that he might have put himself into the +hands of others, and that he voluntarily gave himself up to England, +there can be no doubt of his _conscious_ falsehood on both points. The +French provisional government would not have suffered him to pass the +frontier; nor would he have given himself up to Captain Maitland if he +could have escaped to America. He also dreaded the sentence of the +Bourbons, who would probably have imprisoned, or even put him to death, +as they did Ney and Labédoyère, and as Murat was shot by order of the +Neapolitan government. If he had fallen into Blucher’s hands, that +officer proposed to have him shot in the ditch of Vincennes, on the very +spot where the Duc d’Enghien was murdered; a proposal which was +ineffectual only through the generous objections of the Duke of +Wellington. The proclamation of the Allied sovereigns had already put +him in a state of _outlawry_ with Europe. Napoleon knew all this: he had +been a prisoner at Malmaison; and though spared for the moment, he might +be convinced that, on the withdrawal of the Allied troops, his life +would have been demanded by the tribunals. Thus his declarations of +confidence in England amounted simply to the belief that he would not be +put to death in its hands. He was too sagacious to suppose that he could +have been let loose again, to be the firebrand of the Continent, or to +play once more the farce of royalty in Elba. + +The inveteracy of Napoleon in his hatred of the governor almost amounted +to frenzy. After one of these interviews, he said, “I never saw such a +horrid countenance. He (Sir H. Lowe) sat in a chair opposite to my sofa, +and on the little table between us was a cup of coffee. His physiognomy +made such an unfavourable impression on me that I thought _his looks had +poisoned it_. I ordered Marchand to throw it out of the window. I could +not have swallowed it for the world.” Part of this “_horror_” was +probably “acting;” but as everything reached Sir Hudson, it belonged to +the system of insult. + +Napoleon’s ideas of religion were sometimes regarded as _decent_, +compared with the general tone of the Continent. On his deathbed he +said, “Je ne suis ni _physicien_ ni _philosophe_.” (I am neither a +_materialist_ nor an _infidel_.) But an anecdote given in Sir Hudson’s +correspondence shows the unfortunate conception of his creed: “Dr +O’Meara related to me yesterday a very characteristic observation of +this remarkable personage. He asked him, on seeing that he had taken his +oath to the authenticity of the paper he had brought to me, in what +manner he had sworn to it. Dr O’Meara replied, ‘On the New Testament.’ +‘_Then_, you _are_ such a fool!’ was his reply.” His attendants were +obviously much of the same order of thinking: “Cipriani came out one day +from Bonaparte’s room, to Dr O’Meara, saying, in a manner indicative of +great surprise, ‘My master is certainly beginning to lose his head. _He +believes in God._ You may think; he said to the servant who was shutting +the windows, Why do you take from us the light which God gives us?’ Oh, +certainly he loses his head. He began at Waterloo, but now it is +_certain_.” His following remark was curious, as an evidence of the +_actual_ feeling of these people with respect to the man whom they +professed to _adore_. Cipriani added—“I do not believe in God; because, +if there were one, he would not have allowed a man, who has done so much +harm, to live so long. And _he_ does not believe; because, if he +believed, he would not have caused so many millions of men to be killed +in this world, for fear of meeting them in the other.” This is absurd, +but it is perhaps the average of Italian belief. Cipriani was _maître +d’hotel_, and a man of intelligence. He died on the island in 1818. + +One of the conversations transmitted by O’Meara related to Waterloo. +“The worst thing,” said Napoleon, “that England ever did, was that of +endeavouring to make herself a great military nation. In doing that, she +must _always be the slave_ of Russia, Prussia, or Austria, or at least +in some degree subservient to them, because she has not enough of men to +combat on the Continent either France or any of the others, and +consequently must hire men from some of them; whereas, at sea, you are +so superior, your sailors so much better, that you will always be +superior to us. Your soldiers, too, have not the qualities for a +military nation; they are not equal in agility, address, or intelligence +to the French; and when they meet with a reverse, their discipline is +very bad.... I saw myself the retreat of Moore, and I never in my life +witnessed anything so bad as the conduct of the soldiers; it was +impossible to collect them or make them do anything; nearly all were +drunk.” + +This is a calumny. The army under General Moore offered battle to the +army under Napoleon, who _declined it_; and when he saw the steadiness +of the British, on their retreat through an exhausted country, and +especially saw that his troops could make no impression on the fifteen +thousand men commanded by Moore, and _saw_ (as we understood) the utter +defeat of the cavalry of his guard by the British hussars, under the +command of the present Marquis of Londonderry, he wisely drew rein, and +returned to Paris, leaving it to Soult “to drive the leopards into the +sea,” who, instead of performing this exploit, was himself beaten on the +shore, and forced to see the British embark at their ease. It is true +that the rapidity and exhaustion of the British march left many +stragglers on the road; but the rapidity resulted from the error of +having supposed that there were parallel roads to the highroad, by which +a French force might have intercepted their march. But, in _every_ +attack on that march, the French were repulsed; and such was the nature +of their defeat in the battle of Corunna, that they were wholly driven +off their ground, and another hour of daylight must have seen their +retreat converted into a _rout_. + +The sneer at England, as not being a military nation, is at once +answered by the fact, that its whole regular force is an army of +_volunteers_, while all the other armies of Europe are raised by a +_conscription_; that in the French war England had an army of 200,000 +men, raised by the military spirit of the country, besides 500,000 +militia and yeomanry! The answer to the “want of soldierly +qualification” in the British troops, is given in the fact, that in the +whole war the British army _never_ lost a pitched battle. + +Napoleon’s account of Waterloo, as given in those pages, is, simply, +that Wellington did everything _wrong_, but with the good fortune of +everything turning out right; that he _ought_, in all propriety, to have +been beaten, though he beat; that the battle was a series of blunders, +which by the power of destiny, or _something_ else, turned into victory; +and that he himself ought, by all the rules of war, to have been +marching in triumph into Brussels, while he was running away to Paris, +leaving 40,000 Frenchmen slain, prisoners, or fugitives, instead of the +40,000 Englishmen, who _ought_ to have fallen. In the same spirit, +Napoleon ought to have been sitting on the throne of France, while he +was talking fustian at St Helena. “What,” said Napoleon, “must have been +the consequence of _my_ victory?” The indignation against the Ministry +for having caused the loss of 40,000 of the flower of the English army, +of the sons of the first families, and others, who would have perished +there, would have excited such a popular commotion, that—“they would +have been _turned out_.” (A rather lame and impotent conclusion.) “The +English would then have made peace, and withdrawn from the Coalition.” + +This is one of the perpetual absurdities of foreigners. England has +_never_ been compelled to an ignominious peace, by losses in war. She +has _never_ seen an enemy in her capital. Loving peace, she willingly +makes peace; but she has _never_ surrendered her sword to make it. + +He persevered in this verbiage. “I had succeeded; before twelve o’clock +everything was mine, I might _almost_ say. But _destiny_ and _accident_ +decided it otherwise.” The curious combination of the most fixed, and +the most casual, of all things, was alone adequate to account for the +defeat of Napoleon! and with this folly the prisoner nursed his +self-delusion to the end. + +One of the chief charges against the English Government was its stinting +the French tables. But one of O’Meara’s _private_ letters gives a fair +account of the matter. “With respect to the allowance within which all +the expenses were directed to be comprised—viz., £8000 sterling a-year, +to which Sir Hudson Lowe has, on his own responsibility, since added +£4000 yearly (!) in my opinion a due regard has not been paid to +circumstances, and I do not think even this latter sum will be +sufficient.... You perhaps are not aware of the French mode of living +and their cookery. They have, in fact, _two_ dinners every day—one at +eleven or twelve o’clock, to which joints, roast and boiled, with all +their various hashes, ragouts, fricassees, &c., &c., are served up, with +wine and liqueurs; and another at eight o’clock, which differs from the +former only in being supplied with more dishes. Besides these two meals, +they all have (except Bonaparte himself, who eats only twice a-day, +certainly very heartily) something like an English breakfast, in _bed_, +between eight and nine in the morning; and a luncheon, with wine, at +four or five in the afternoon. + +“The common notion of the English eating more animal food than the +French is most incorrect. I am convinced that between their two dinners +and luncheon they consume three or four times as much as any English +family of a similar number. Those two dinners, then, the first of which +they have separately in their respective rooms, cause a great +consumption of meat and wine, which, together with their mode of +cookery, require a great quantity of either oil or butter, both of which +are excessively dear in this place (and you may as well attempt to +deprive an Irishman of potatoes as a Frenchman of his oil, or some +substitute for it). Their _soupes consommés_ (for they are, with one or +two exceptions, the greatest gluttons and epicures I ever saw), +producing great waste of meat in a place where the necessaries of life +are so dear, altogether render necessary a great expenditure of money.” + +Among the cunning attempts to throw the conduct of the governor into +abhorrence, was the charge of refusing Napoleon the _bust_ of his son, +and even intending to destroy it. O’Meara says, that it had been “landed +fourteen days, and some of those in the governor’s hands.” This is +another instance of the language perpetually used; the fact being, “that +the bust was landed on the 10th or 11th of June, and sent to Longwood +the _next day_.” + +The true narrative was this: In the summer of 1816, the ex-empress Maria +Louisa having visited the baths of Leghorn, two marble busts of her son +were executed. One of those was purchased by Messrs Beaggini in London, +in hopes of an opportunity of sending it to St Helena. A store-ship, the +Baring, being about to sail there in January 1817, a foreign gunner on +board, named Radavich, was intrusted with the bust, with instructions to +give it to Count Bertrand, for Napoleon, leaving it to his generosity +“to refund their expenses.” If, however, he wished to know the price, it +was to be a hundred louis. The captain of the ship (a half-pay +lieutenant) knew nothing of its being on board till shortly before, or +immediately after, his arrival at St Helena; at that time Radavich was +ill of apoplexy, followed by delirium, so that for several days it was +impossible to speak to him on the subject. When Sir Thomas Reade was +informed that it was on board, he immediately acquainted the governor +with the circumstance. Sir Hudson Lowe, considering the clandestine +manner in which it was brought, was at first inclined to retain it until +he had communicated with Lord Bathurst. But, Sir T. Reade suggesting +that as the bust was not _plaster_, it could not contain letters, +advised its being forwarded at once, and the governor assented. Before, +however, ordering it on shore, he himself went to Longwood, to ascertain +Napoleon’s wish through Bertrand. Major Gorrequer accompanied him, and +in his notes gives an account of the interview. The governor mentioned +the arrival of the bust to Bertrand, and said that he would take upon +himself the responsibility of landing it, if such was the wish of +Napoleon. Bertrand’s answer was, “No doubt it will give him pleasure.” +The _next_ day the bust was landed, taken to Longwood, and received by +Napoleon with evident delight. By some means or other he had known of +its arrival, and said to O’Meara on the 10th, “I have known it several +days.” He then rushed into one of those explosions of wrath and oratory +which were familiar to him. He said, “I intended, if it had not been +given, to have made such a complaint as would have caused every +Englishman’s hair to stand on end! I should have told a tale which would +have made the mothers of England execrate him as a monster in human +shape.” + +And all this with the bust before his eyes. To heighten the effect, he +would persist in pretending to believe that Sir Hudson Lowe had given +orders for breaking up the bust, and on this fancy he declaimed anew +against him, calling him “barbarous and atrocious.” “That countenance,” +said he, turning to the bust, “would melt the heart of the most +ferocious _wild beast_! The man who gave orders to break that image +would _plunge a knife_ into the heart of the original, if it were in his +power.” And all this fury for a fiction!—the palpable contradiction to +the charge of cruelty standing on his table. + +It is not even clear, after all, that there was _not_ an intrigue +connected with this bust: Napoleon exhibited extreme anxiety to see +Radavich. This the governor permitted, but on the condition of the +officer in attendance being present, and it was declined. Lord Bathurst, +in his despatch to St Helena, said, “The suspicious circumstances under +which the bust arrived, were sufficient to make you pause before you +determined to transmit it to the general. Had the package contained +anything less interesting to him in his character as a father, the +clandestine manner in which it was introduced on board of the vessel +would have been a sufficient reason for withholding the delivery of it, +at least for a much longer period.... I am not disposed to participate +in his (the French ambassador’s) apprehensions that letters _were +conveyed_ in it. No doubt, however, can be entertained that attempts are +making at clandestine communications.” + +To this we may add that, by some secret means, the French were +acquainted with every transaction of Europe, and frequently before the +public authorities. + +Napoleon ordered £300 to be given to Radavich (who was merely the agent +for the London house). O’Meara says, in his _Voice from St Helena_, +that, “by some unworthy tricks, this poor man did not recover the money +for nearly two years.” This is a proof of the slipshod statements which +are to be found in the volume; the fact being, that, in March 1818, the +former proprietors of the bust wrote to Bertrand, to complain of the +conduct of Radavich, as having come to no settlement with them “for the +payment he had received for the bust, and for the other articles +intrusted to him; and that he had gone from England without rendering +any account to _them_.” They solicited Bertrand to give them some +remuneration. + +Our limits warn us that we must conclude, leaving a crowd of interesting +incidents behind. The work seems perfectly to clear Sir Hudson Lowe’s +character, not merely from the charge of severity, but even from the +imputation of petulance. No man could be placed in a situation of +greater difficulty. He had to deal with a _coterie_ of the most +unscrupulous kind; he had also especially to deal with a man irritated +by the most signal downfall in European record, subtle beyond all +example, unhesitating in evasion, formed of falsehood, and furious at +necessary coercion. He had to meet also the clamours of French +partisanship throughout Europe, and to bear the calumnies of faction +even in England. He had to endure personal insult, and to counteract +reckless intrigue. If he had been roused into violence of temper, no man +could be more easily pardoned for its excess; but there is not a single +_proof_ of this charge, and the whole tenor of his conduct seems to have +been patient and equable, though strict and firm. He had one paramount +duty to perform—the prevention of Napoleon’s escape, and he did that +duty. All minor deficiencies, if they existed, might be merged in the +perfect performance of a duty which involved the peace of the world. + +The dismissal of O’Meara from his office in the island, followed by his +dismissal from the navy, let loose a personal enemy of some ability, +much plausibility, and the bitterest anger. His volume, _A Voice from St +Helena_, embodied all the charges against Sir Hudson Lowe, and was +prosecuted as a libel. But the prosecution having, in the opinion of the +judges, been delayed for some months beyond the legal time, it failed, +on that ground only. The governor of St Helena drew up a refutation of +the volume, which still remains in the archives of Government. Why he +did not appeal to the opinion of the country—a duty which no public man +can decline without loss to his own character—cannot now be ascertained. +He was probably weary of a life of contradiction, and had no desire to +continue it in controversy. + +But the task, though long delayed, has finally been performed, as it +appears to us, with perfect manliness, clearness, and conviction, by its +present author. Mr Forsyth’s style is admirably fitted for his +subject—fair, forcible, and argumentative. By his work he has done +credit to himself, and cleared the character of a brave, an honest, and +a high-minded English soldier and gentleman. We know no ampler panegyric +on the uses or the successes of authorship. + +Sir Hudson Lowe was appointed to the colonelcy of the first vacant +regiment (the 93d) on his return—was subsequently in command of the +troops in Ceylon—and at length, yielding to the effects of toil and +time, died in 1844, in his 75th year. + + + + + NEW READINGS IN SHAKESPEARE.[16] + + +A copy of almost any ancient author, with its margins studded with +antique manuscript jottings, is a treasure to the scholar who possesses +it, and a sore temptation to all his antiquarian friends. What, then, +must be the pricelessness of an early folio, thus annotated, of +Shakespeare, the Emperor of all the Literatures? Would not a lover of +the poet be almost inclined to sell his whole library in order to +purchase that single book? And when secured, with what zest would he not +set himself to decipher the crabbed hieroglyphics on the margins of the +intoxicating windfall! The various readings, recommended by the charm of +novelty, and yet apparently as old, and _perhaps_ as genuine as the +printed text, would gradually become its rivals. Alterations, +occasionally felicitous, would throw an air of respectability over their +less insinuating associates. Sole possession would enhance the +importance of the discovery. Solitary enjoyment would deepen the relish +of the entertainment. The situation is one not at all favourable to the +exercise of a sound critical judgment. Imagination goes to work, and +colours the facts according to its own wishes; and faith and hope, +“hovering o’er,” at length drive away all misgivings as to the +authenticity of the emendations. That fine old handwriting, which is as +conscientious as it is curious, is itself a guarantee that the +corrections are not spurious—are not merely conjectural. The manuscript +corrector must have had good grounds for what he did. He may have been +Shakespeare’s bosom friend, his boon companion, his chosen confidant, +and perhaps the assistant in his labours; or, if not that, at any rate +the friend of some one who had known the great dramatist well—was +acquainted with his innermost thoughts—and as intimate with his works, +and with all that he intended to express, as if he himself had written +them. At all events, the corrector must have had access to sources of +information respecting the text of the plays, the results of which have +perished to all the world—_except me_, the happy holder of this unique +and inestimable volume. + +Such, we conceive, would be the state of mind and the train of reasoning +into which a man would naturally be thrown by the acquisition of such an +agitating prize as we have supposed. Under the excitement of his +feelings, the authority of the corrector of the work would, in all +likelihood, supersede the authority of its composer; the penman would +carry the day against the printer; and the possessor of the book would +do his best to press the “new readings” into the ears and down the +throats of a somewhat uncritical but not altogether passive or +unsuspicious public. + +The case which we have described is to be understood as a general and +ideal one; but something of this kind seems to have befallen Mr Collier, +whom accident lately placed in possession of a copy of the folio of +Shakespeare, 1632, plentifully garnished with manuscript notes and +emendations. In these trying circumstances he has acted very much in the +way which might have been anticipated. It is true that he announces his +good fortune in a strain of moderated enthusiasm. “In the spring of +1849,” says he, “I happened to be in the shop of the late Mr Rodd, of +Great Newport Street, at a time when a package of books arrived from the +country.” Among them was a very indifferent copy of the folio of +Shakespeare, 1632, which Mr Collier, concluding hastily that it would +complete an imperfect copy of the same edition which he had purchased +from the same bookseller some time before, bought for thirty shillings. +The purchase did not answer its purpose. The two leaves that were wanted +to complete the other folio “were unfit for my purpose, not merely by +being too short” (how very particular these book-fanciers are), “but +otherwise damaged and defaced. Thus disappointed, I threw it by, and did +not see it again until I made a selection of books I would take with me +on quitting London. On consulting it afterwards,” continues Mr Collier, +“it struck me that Thomas Perkins, whose name, with the addition of ‘his +Booke,’ was upon the cover, might be the old actor who had performed in +Marlowe’s _Jew of Malta_ on its revival shortly before 1633.” That would +have been an important fact, as helping to connect the MS. corrections +closely with the Shakesperian era. But here Mr Collier was doomed to +disappointment. On further inquiry he found that the actor’s name was +Richard Perkins: “still,” says he, with a faith too buoyant to be +submerged by such a trifle, “Thomas Perkins might have been a descendant +of Richard,” from whom, of course, he probably inherited a large portion +of the emendations. “This circumstance,” says Mr Collier, “and others, +induced me to examine the volume more particularly: I then discovered, +to my surprise, that there was hardly a page which did not present, in a +handwriting of the time, some emendations in the pointing or in the +text, while on most of them they were frequent, and on many numerous. Of +course I now submitted the folio to a most careful scrutiny; and as it +occupied a considerable time to complete the inspection, how much more +must it have consumed to make the alterations? The ink was of various +shades, differing sometimes on the same page, and I was once disposed to +think that two distinct hands had been employed upon them. This notion I +have since abandoned, and I am now decidedly of opinion that the same +writing prevails from beginning to end, but that the amendments must +have been introduced from time to time during perhaps the course of +several years.” + +But although Mr Collier speaks thus calmly of his prize, we are +nevertheless convinced, by the rapidity of his conversion from the old +readings to the new, that he, like the rest of us, is liable to be +carried a little off his feet by any sudden stroke of prosperity, and is +keenly alive (as most people are) to the superior merits of anything +that happens to be his own. It is our nature to admire what we alone +have been privileged to possess or to discover. Hence Mr Collier has +stepped at one plunge from possession into cordial approbation and +unhesitating adoption of most of the corrections set forth on the +margins of his folio. Formerly the stanchest defender of the old +Shakesperian text, he is now the advocate of changes in it, to an extent +which calls for very grave consideration on the part of those who regard +the language of the poet as a sacred inheritance, not to be disturbed by +innovations, without the strongest evidence, the most conclusive +reasons, and the most clamant necessity being adduced in their support. + +We are far from blaming Mr Collier for having published his volume of +“Notes and Emendations.” Although it might be advantageously reduced in +bulk by the omission of many details occupied with the settlement of +matters which have been long ago settled, still it is in some respects a +valuable contribution to the literature of Shakespeare. We have no faith +whatever in the authenticity of the new readings; a few of them, +however—a very few—seem to us to be irresistibly established by their +own self-evidence; while the whole of them are invested with a certain +degree of interest as the interpretations of an indefatigable, though +thick-headed—of a blundering, yet early and perhaps almost contemporary, +scholiast. As a matter of curiosity, and as indicative of the state of +English criticism in the 17th century, the new readings are acceptable; +and the thanks of the literary portion of the community are due to Mr +Collier for having favoured them with this publication. But here the +obligation stops. To insert the new readings into the text, and to +publish them as the genuine words of Shakespeare (which we understand Mr +Collier has either done or threatens to do), is a proceeding which +cannot be too solemnly denounced. This is to poison our language in its +very “wells of English undefiled.” It is to obliterate the distinctions +which characterise the various eras of our vernacular tongue; for +however near to the time of Shakespeare our newly discovered scholiast +may have lived, there was doubtless some interval between them—an +interval during which our language was undergoing considerable changes. +It is to lose hold of old modes of thought, as well as of old forms of +expression;—it is to confound the different styles of our literature;—it +is to vitiate with anachronisms the chronology of our speech;—it is to +profane the memory of Shakespeare. + +When we look for evidence in favour of the authenticity of these +(so-called) “Emendations,” we look for it in vain. The state of the case +may perhaps be understood, by attending to the following particulars. Of +Shakespeare’s handwriting, so far as is known, there is not now extant +so much as “the scrape of a pen,” with the exception of the autograph of +his name. Of his plays, thirteen were published in an authentic form +during his life, and four in spurious or “pirated” editions. These are +called the quartos. After his death, one of his plays was published, by +itself, for the first time—“Othello.” In 1623, seven years after his +death, the first folio appeared. It contains the eighteen plays just +referred to, with the addition of eighteen, now published for the first +time. This folio 1623 was printed (if we are to believe its editors, and +there is no reason to doubt their word) _from Shakespeare’s own +manuscripts_, and from the quarto editions, revised and corrected to +some extent, either by his own hand or under his authority. So that the +folio 1623 is the highest authority that can be appealed to in the +settlement of his text. It ranks even before the quartos, except in +cases of obvious misprint, or other self-evident oversights. To it, in +so far as _external_ evidence is concerned, all other proofs must yield. +_Internal_ evidence may occasionally solicit the alteration of its text; +but such emendations must, in every case, be merely conjectural. It is +the basis of every genuine edition, and must continue so, until +Shakespeare’s own manuscripts be brought to light. + +Out of these circumstances an important consideration arises. It is +this, that we are not entitled, on any account, to alter the text of the +folio 1623, even in cases where manifest improvements might be made, so +long as the old reading makes sense. If any reasonable meaning can be +extracted from the received lection, we are bound to retain it, because +we have every reason to believe that it is what Shakespeare wrote; and +it is our object to possess his words and his meaning, not as we may +suppose they _ought_ to have been, but as they actually _were_. Where no +sense at all can be obtained from a passage, a slight, perhaps a +considerable, alteration is allowable; because any man’s intelligibility +is to be preferred to even Shakespeare’s unintelligibility. But we are +never to flatter ourselves, with any strong degree of assurance, that +the correction has restored to us the exact language of the poet. + +This consideration had, in former years, its due weight with Mr Collier. +No one was a keener advocate than he for preserving the original text +inviolate. He now views the matter in a different light. He is tolerant +of new readings, even in cases where sense can be elicited from the +received text. Further, he frequently gives the preference to new +readings, as we hope to show, even in cases where the old reading is far +the more forcible and intelligible of the two. And on what ground does +he countenance them? Setting aside at present the question of their +internal evidence, we reply, that he countenances them on the ground +that the folio 1623 is of doubtful authenticity. He denies that it was +prepared from Shakespeare’s own papers. This is the foundation of his +case. He maintains that the copy which the printer used had been +(probably) dictated by some underling of the theatre, to some scribe +whose ear (probably) often deceived him in taking up the right word, and +who consequently put down a wrong one, which was subsequently set up in +type by the printer. He is further of opinion that a text of +Shakespeare, purer than any that ever got into print, was preserved +_orally_ in the theatre, and that the corrector of his folio, who was +decidedly of a theatrical turn, and perhaps himself a manager, picked up +his new readings from the mouths of the players themselves. But he has +entirely failed to prove these improbable assertions. His theory in +regard to the printing of the folio 1623 is contradicted by the distinct +announcement of its editors, who say of their great master that “his +mind and hand went together, and what he thought he uttered with that +easiness that we have scarce received _from him_ a blot _in his +papers_.” This declaration, that the materials from which they worked +were derived directly from Shakespeare himself, seems to establish +conclusively the authenticity of the folio 1623; and that point being +made good, all external evidence in favour of the new readings must of +necessity fail. + +But perhaps these new readings are supported by their internal +evidence—perhaps they bring along with them such an amount of force and +propriety as carries conviction on the very face of it, and entitles +them to a decided preference in comparison with the old? Mr Collier +would fain think so. On their evident superiority, both in sense and in +style, he rests the main strength of his case. Speaking of his volume, +he says, “I ought not to hesitate in avowing my conviction, that _we are +bound_ to admit _by far the greater body_ of the substitutions it +contains, as _the restored language_ of Shakespeare. As he was +especially the poet of common life, so he was emphatically the poet of +common sense; and to _the verdict of common sense_ I am willing to +submit all the more material alterations recommended on the authority +before me. If they will not bear that test, I for one am willing _to +relinquish_ them.” + +Our principal object in the following pages is to show that “by far the +greater body of the substitutions” will not stand this test; and that +many of them present such a perverse depravation of the true text, that +if the design of the corrector had been to damage the literary character +of Shakespeare, he could not have accomplished his purpose more +effectually than by representing these new readings as his. At the same +time, we shall endeavour to bring forward everything in Mr Collier’s +volume which tells in the manuscript-corrector’s favour. This will +probably cause the corrector’s notes and emendations to be more highly +thought of than they deserve; because, while it will be no difficult +matter to lay before the reader _all_, or nearly all, his judicious +amendments, our space will not permit us to present to him one-twentieth +part of his astounding aberrations. Selecting, then, as many of the more +important alterations as our limits will allow, and weighing what their +internal evidence is worth, we shall go over the plays _seriatim_, +commencing with “The Tempest.” + +THE TEMPEST.—The new readings in this play are generally unimportant, +and, in our judgment, not one of them ought to be admitted into the +text. In no case would anything be gained, and in some cases a good deal +would be lost, by adopting the proposed changes. In the following +passage the original text is certainly unsatisfactory, but the new +reading is at least equally so. Antonio, the usurping Duke of Milan, has +become so habituated to the possession of his unlawful power, and has +been so little checked in the exercise of it, that he at length believes +himself to be the real duke. This idea is thus expressed. Prospero, the +rightful duke, says of him— + + “He being thus _lorded_, + Not only with what my revenue yielded, + But what my power might else exact,—like + one + Who having, _unto truth_, by telling of it, + Made such a sinner of his memory + To credit his own lie,—he did believe + He was indeed the duke.” + +For “lorded,” Mr Collier’s emendator would read “loaded”—a correction +which Mr Collier himself admits to be “questionable,” and which we throw +overboard at once. For “unto truth” he proposes “to untruth”— + + “like one + Who having, _to untruth_, by telling of it,” &c. + +But here, if one flaw is mended, another and a worse one is made. By +reading “to untruth” we obtain, indeed, a proper antecedent to “it,” +which otherwise must be looked for, awkwardly enough, in the subsequent +word “lie.” But as a set-off against this improvement, we would ask, how +can a man be said to make his memory a sinner _to untruth_? This would +mean, if it meant anything, that the man’s memory was true; and this is +precisely what Prospero says Antonio’s memory was not. We must leave, +therefore, the text as it stands, regarding it as one of those passages +in which Shakespeare has expressed himself with less than his usual care +and felicity. + +The substitution of “all” for “are” in the lines, + + “They all have met again, + And _are_ upon the Mediterranean float”— + +Or, as the MS. corrector reads it, + + “They _all_ upon the Mediterranean float”— + +strikes us as peculiarly un-Shakesperian. But this instance of the +corrector’s injudicious meddling is a small matter. The following +passage deserves more careful consideration, for we are convinced that +the text of the first and second folios, which has been universally +rejected since the days of Theobald, is, after all, the right reading. +_Act III. Scene 1_ opens with the soliloquy of Ferdinand, who declares +that the irksome tasks to which he has been set by Prospero are sweetly +alleviated by the consciousness that he has secured the interest and +sympathy of Miranda. He says— + + “There be some sports are painful; but their labour + Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness + Are nobly undergone: and most poor matters + Point to rich ends. This my mean task + Would be as heavy to me as odious; but + The mistress, which I serve, quickens what’s dead, + And makes my labours pleasures. Oh, she is + Ten times more gentle than her father’s crabbed, + And he’s composed of harshness. I must remove + Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up + Upon a sore injunction. My sweet mistress + Weeps when she sees me work, and says such baseness + Had never like executor. I forget: + But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, + _Most busy-less, when I do it_.” + +The last line, as it here stands, is Theobald’s reading; and it has been +adopted almost unanimously by subsequent editors—by the compilers of the +_variorum_ Shakespeare—by Mr Knight—and most recently by Mr Halliwell, +in his magnificent folio. Mr Singer, in his edition of 1826, and Mr +Collier’s emendator, are, so far as we can learn, the only dissentients. +The former proposes, “most busiest when I do it;” and the latter, “most +busy,—blest when I do it;” which reading we agree with Mr Singer in +thinking “the very worst and most improbable of all that have been +suggested;”—will he excuse us for adding—except perhaps, his own? +Theobald’s text is certainly greatly to be preferred to either of these +alterations. Had the MS. corrector’s emendation been a compound epithet, +“busy-blest” (that is, blest with my business, because it is associated +with thoughts of Miranda), something, though perhaps not much, might +possibly have been said in its behalf. But Mr Collier regards the +correction as consisting of two distinct words; and, therefore, he must +excuse us for saying that it is one in which sense and grammar are +equally set at defiance. We now take up the original reading, which has +been universally discarded, but which, as we hope clearly to show, calls +for no alteration; and an attention to which, at an earlier stage in the +revision of Shakespeare’s text, might have prevented a large expenditure +of very unnecessary criticism. The original text of the line under +consideration is this— + + “Most busy, least when I do it.” + +This is the reading of the second folio. The first folio has “lest;” +but, of course, _least_ and _lest_ are the same word in the arbitrary +spelling of that early period. We maintain that this lection makes as +excellent and undeniable sense as could be desired. + + “Most busy, least when I do it;” + +—that is, “when I do it (or work) _least_, then am I _most_ busy, _most_ +oppressed by toil.” More fully stated, the obvious meaning is “this +labour of mine is so preciously sweetened, so agreeably refreshed by +thoughts of Miranda’s kindness, that I really feel _most_ busy, most +burthened, most fatigued, when I am _least_ occupied with my task; +because, then I am not so sensible of being the object of her sympathy +and approval.” Shakespeare intends that Ferdinand should express the +ardour of his attachment to Miranda in a strong hyperbole; accordingly, +he makes him say, “I am most busy, when I am least busy;” because the +spirit of Miranda does not cheer and inspire my idleness, in the way in +which it cheers and inspires my labour. Theobald’s line expresses, +although in an imperfect manner, this same hyperbole conversely. “I am +least busy, when I am most busy; because, when I am working hardest, the +spirit of Miranda is present to refresh and alleviate my toils.” But +Shakespeare’s mode of expressing the exaggeration is both stronger and +finer than Theobald’s, which in point of language is exceedingly lame +and defective. Our only doubt, in restoring the old reading, is in +regard to the word “it.” Perhaps it would be as well away, and we might +read more perspicuously + + “_Most_ busy,—_least_ when I do.” + +The measure being already redundant, the word could be spared. But its +absence or presence makes little or no difference, and, with it, or +without it, we hope to see this restoration of the original text, which, +of course, requires no authority except its own to establish it, +embodied in all future editions of our great national dramatist. + +The only new reading in this play which we have some hesitation in +condemning, is the following. The witch Sycorax is spoken of (_Act V. +Scene 1._) as one + + “That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, + And deal in her command _without_ her power.” + +This is the ordinary text. The MS. corrector proposes “_with all_ +power;” and, at first sight, this correction looks like an improvement; +for how could the witch deal in the moon’s command, if she had not got +the moon’s power? On second thoughts, however, we believe that Mr +Knight, who defends the common reading, is right. By “power,” we are +here to understand _legitimate_ authority; and of this Sycorax has none. +By means of her spells and counternatural incantations she could make +ebbs and flows, and thus wielded to some extent the lunar influences; +but she had none of that rightful and natural dominion over the tides of +the ocean which belongs only to the moon. Our verdict, therefore, is in +favour of the old reading. We pass from “The Tempest” with the remark +that the other new readings proposed by Mr Collier’s emendator have here +and elsewhere been conclusively set aside, in our estimation, by the +observations of Mr Knight and Mr Singer; and we again protest against +any adulteration of the text of this play by the introduction even of a +single word which the MS. corrector has suggested. + +THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.—Nothing connected with Shakespeare is +small, and therefore we make no apology for calling the reader’s +attention to what some people might consider a very small matter—the +difference between _for_ and _but_ in the following lines. _Act I. Scene +1._—Valentine and Proteus, “The Two Gentlemen of Verona,” are saying +good-bye to each other, the former being on the eve of setting out on +his travels. Valentine, the traveller, says to his friend— + + —“on some love-book pray for my success. + + _Proteus._ Upon some book I love, I’ll pray for thee. + + _Valentine._ That’s on some shallow story of deep love, + How young Leander cross’d the Hellespont. + + _Proteus._ That’s a deep story of a deeper love, + For he was more than over shoes in love. + + _Valentine._ ’Tis true; _for_ you are over boots in love, + And yet you never swam the Hellespont.” + +In place of “for” in the last line but one, the corrector proposes +“but,” and Mr Collier approves, remarking that _but_ “seems more +consistent with the course of the dialogue.” If, however, we attend to +the sequence of thought in this passage, it will be apparent that the +change not only fails to render the dialogue more consistent, but that +it altogether destroys its consistency, converting very good sense into +downright nonsense; smartness into drivel. When Proteus says that +Leander who crossed the Hellespont was more than over shoes in love, +Valentine catches him up, “’tis true: no doubt of it: he must have been +more than over shoes in love; _for_ you, who never swam the Hellespont +at all, are actually over boots in love.” The reasoning here seems very +plain. If Proteus, without swimming the Hellespont, was over _boots_ in +love, surely the very least that could be said of Leander, who did swim +it, must be that he was more than over _shoes_ in love. “Your remark, +friend Proteus, though very true, is not very recondite. It is decidedly +common-place, and such as I should scarcely have expected to hear from a +person of your wit and penetration. Pray favour us with something a +little more original and profound.” All this banter, and we venture to +think it rather happy, is implied in Valentine’s words— + + “’Tis true; _For_ you are over boots in love, + And yet you never swam the Hellespont.” + +But change this “for” into “but,” and the whole point of the dialogue is +gone. Let this new reading be adopted, and future commentators will be +justified in declaring that Shakespeare’s words were sometimes without +meaning. This single and apparently insignificant instance in which the +corrector has palpably misconceived his author, compels us to distrust +his capacity, and ought to go far to shake the general credit of his +emendations. + +To alter “blasting in the bud,” into “blasted in the bud,” is merely an +instance of excessive bad taste on the part of the MS. corrector. We see +nothing worthy of approval or animadversion until we come to two lines +which are quoted from _Act III. Scene 2_— + + “But say, this _weed_ her love from Valentine, + It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio”— + +where it may be a question whether “wean” (the corrector’s suggestion), +might not be judiciously substituted for “weed.” If rapid extirpation +was intended to be expressed, “weed” is the word; otherwise we are +disposed to prefer “wean,” as better fitted to denote the contemplated +alienation of Julia’s affections from Proteus. + +In _Act IV. Scene 2_, a whole new line is introduced; and as there is no +evidence to prove that the corrector did not write this line himself, we +must protest against its insertion in the genuine writings of +Shakespeare. The interpolation is in italics. Eglamour says to the +distressed Silvia, who is requesting him to be her escort— + + “Madam, I pity much your grievances, + _And the most true affections that you bear_, + Which since I know they virtuously are placed, + I give consent to go along with you.” + +Johnson explains _grievances_ as sorrows, _sorrowful affections_—an +explanation which renders the interpolated line quite unnecessary. +Shakespeare understood the art of _ne quid nimis_, and frequently leaves +something to be supplied by the imagination of his reader or hearer. +Besides, it would have been indelicate in Eglamour to have alluded more +particularly to the “loves” of Silvia and Valentine. + +If the MS. corrector had ever seen _Scene IV._ effectively acted, he +must have perceived how completely one good point would have been +destroyed by his unwise insertion of the word “cur.” Launce, servant to +Proteus, has been sent by his master with a little dog as a present to +Silvia. Launce has lost the lap-dog, and has endeavoured to make +compensation by offering to Silvia his own hulking mongrel in its place. +These particulars are thus recounted:— + + “_Launce._—Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me. + + _Proteus._—And what says she to my little jewel? + + _Launce._—Marry, she says your dog was a cur; and tells you currish + thanks is good enough for such a present. + + _Proteus._—But she received my present? + + _Launce._—No, indeed, she did not. Here I have brought him back again. + + _Proteus._—What! didst thou offer her _this_ from me? + + _Launce._—Ay, sir, the other squirrel was stolen from me by the + hangman’s boys in the market-place; and then I offered her mine own, + who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and therefore the gift the + greater.” + +The question is, whether the word “this” is better by itself, or whether +it should be coupled with the word “cur,” as the MS. emendator proposes. +Our notion is, that the single pronoun is greatly the more expressive. +“Did you offer her _this_” (of course pointing to the brute with an +expression of indignation and abhorrence, which disdained to call him +anything but _this_) “THIS!!! from me? The lady must think me mad.” In +regard to the other corrections, we perceive no such force or propriety +in any of them as might incline us to disturb, for their sake, the +received text of “The Two Gentlemen of Verona.” + +THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.—In _Act II. Scene 1_, the commentators have +all been gravelled by the word “an-heires,” as it stands in all the +early editions in the following passage— + + “_Host._—My hand, bully, thou shalt have egress and regress; said I + well, and thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight—will you go, + _anheires_?” + +In place of this unintelligible word, various substitutes have been +proposed. The MS. corrector would read “Will you go _on here_?” This is +very poor, and sounds to our ears very unlike the host’s ordinary slang; +and we have no hesitation in agreeing with Mr Dyce,[17] who gives the +preference over all the other readings to that of Sir John Hanmer, the +editor of the Oxford edition: “Will you go on, _mynheers_?”—will you go +on, my masters? The word is proved to have been used in England in the +time of Shakespeare. + +In _Act II. Scene 3_, this same host, who deals somewhat largely in the +unknown tongue, again says— + + “I will bring thee where Mistress Page is, at a farm-house feasting, + and thou shalt woo her. _Cried game_, said I well?” + +This obsolete slang has puzzled the commentators sorely. Mr Dyce +suggests “cried I aim,” which means, it appears, “Did I give you +encouragement?”—(_vide_ Singer, p. 7.) We confess ourselves incompetent +to form an opinion, except to this extent, that Mr Collier’s corrector, +who proposes “curds and cream,” seems to us to have made the worst shot +of any that have been fired.[18] + +In _Act IV. Scene I_, we rather think that the MS. corrector is right in +changing “let” into “get,” in the following passage: “How now,” says Mrs +Page to Sir Hugh Evans the schoolmaster; “How now, Sir Hugh?—no school +to-day?” “No,” answers Sir Hugh; “Master Slender is _let_ (read _get_) +the boys leave to play.” In Sir Hugh’s somewhat Celtic dialect, he _is +get_ the boys a holiday. + +In the following passage, _Act IV. Scene 5_, the received text is this— + + “_Simple._—I would I could have spoken with the woman herself. I had + other things to have spoke with her, too, from him. + + _Falstaff._—What are they?—let us know. + + _Host._—Ay, come; quick. + + _Simple._—I may not _conceal_ them, sir. + + _Falstaff._—_Conceal_ them, or thou diest.” + +Good Dr Farmer thought that, in both instances, we should read +“reveal”—not perceiving that the humour of the dialogue (such as it is) +consists in _reading_ “conceal,” and in _understanding_ “reveal.” But +the MS. emendator, with an innocence beyond even Dr Farmer’s, would +alter the passage thus— + + “_Falstaff._—What are they?—let us know. + + _Host._—Ay, come quick. + + _Falstaff._—_You_ may not conceal them, sir. + + _Host._—Conceal them, _and_ thou diest.” + +And Mr Collier approves of this variation, as “making the dialogue run +quite consistently.” + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE.—In the Duke’s speech, at the opening of the play, a +formidable difficulty presents itself. Addressing Escalus, of whose +statesmanlike qualities he has the highest opinion, the Duke says, as +all the editions give it— + + “Of government the properties to unfold, + Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse, + Since I am put to know that your own science + Exceeds in that the lists of all advice + My strength can give you. Then no more remains + But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, + And let them work.” + +The two last lines of this passage have been a grievous stumbling-block +to the commentators. The _variorum_ men, with Johnson at their head, +have made nothing of it. Mr Singer reads— + + “Then no more remains + But _there to_ your sufficiency as your worth is able, + And let them work;” + +which seems quite as dark and perplexing as the original text. Mr +Collier’s man, cutting the knot with desperate hook, which slashes away +a good many words, gives us— + + “Then no more remains, + But _add_ to your sufficiency your worth, + And let them work.” + +These words are sufficiently intelligible; but this is not to rectify +Shakespeare’s text—it is to re-write it; and this no man can be +permitted to do. As a private speculation of our own, we venture to +propose the following, altering merely one word of the authentic +version— + + “Then no more remains, + But that (to your sufficiency as your worth is able) + _You_ let them work.” + +The Duke has remarked that he is not competent to give Escalus any +advice on matters of public policy, as he is much better versed in such +affairs than himself. He then goes on to say, “No more remains, but that +(seeing your worth is able—that is, is equal—to your sufficiency or +acquired knowledge) you should let the two, your worth, and your +sufficiency, work together for the good of your country.” Or it might be +allowable to introduce “equal” into the text, thereby making the sense +still plainer— + + “Then no more remains + But that (to your sufficiency as your worth is _equal_) + You let them work.” + +But if any auxiliar authority could be found for the use of the word +“able” as here employed (a point about which we are doubtful, though not +desperate), we should prefer to retain it in the text. By making the +words _to_ and _as_ change places, we obtain a still more perspicuous +reading— + + “Then no more remains, + But that (_as_ your sufficiency _to_ your worth is equal) + _You_ let them work.” + +Mr Collier remarks (p. 42), “Near the end of Mrs Overdone’s speech, ‘is’ +is required before the words ‘to be chopped off.’ It is deficient in +_all_ printed copies, and is inserted in manuscript in the corrected +folio 1632.” We can inform Mr Collier that the word “is” stands, in this +place, in the _variorum_ edition of 1785. + +_Act I. Scene 4._—The Duke, who has abdicated for a time in favour of +Angelo, says, in allusion to the abuses which Angelo is expected to +correct— + + “I have on Angelo imposed my office, + Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, + And yet, my nature never in the sight, + To _do it_ slander.” + +The corrector of Mr Collier’s folio suggests to _draw on_ slander; and +as a gloss or explanation of an antiquated or awkward expression, this +variation may be accepted; but it certainly has no title to be admitted +into the text as the authentic language of Shakespeare. The change of +“story” into “scorn” (_Scene 5_), is perhaps admissible. Alluding to a +false species of repentance, the friar, in _Act II. Scene 3_, says that +such insufficient + + “Sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven, + Showing we would not _spare_ heaven, as we love it, + But as we stand in fear.” + +On the margin of Mr Collier’s folio, “serve” is written, and “spare” is +scored out. We greatly prefer the old reading, in spite of Mr Collier’s +assertion that it is corrupt, and “seems little better than nonsense.” +To _spare_ heaven is not nonsense; it means to refrain from sin. To +_serve_ heaven means something more; it means to practise holiness. The +difference is but slight, but it is quite sufficient to establish the +language of Shakespeare as greatly superior to that of his anonymous +corrector, because the point here in question is much rather abstinence +from vice than the positive practice of virtue. + +In _Act II. Scene 4_, the following somewhat obscure expression occurs: +“in the loss of question”—what does it mean? “It means,” says Mr Singer +(p. 11), “in the looseness of conversation.” That is a most satisfactory +explanation. Yet if Mr Collier and his emendator had their own way, we +should be deprived of this genuine Shakesperian phrase, and be put off +with the unmeaning words “in the _force_ of question.” + +In _Act III. Scene 1_, the alteration of “blessed” into “boasted,” in +the speech in which the Duke so finely moralises on the vanity of human +life, cannot be too decidedly condemned— + + “Thou” (oh Life) “hast nor youth nor age, + But as it were an after-dinner’s sleep, + Dreaming on both, for all thy _blessed_ youth + Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms + Of palsied eld.” + +Some people may not be able to understand how the period of youth can, +in one and the same breath, be called _blessed_, and yet miserable as +old age. They look on that as a contradiction. Such people ought never +to read poetry. At any rate, they ought first to learn that the poet is +privileged, nay, is often bound to declare as actual that which is only +potential or ideal. Thus, he may say that _blessed_ youth is a +_miserable_ season of existence, meaning thereby that misery overspreads +even that time of life which _ought to be_, and which _ideally_ is, the +happiest in the pilgrimage of man. The manuscript corrector has but an +obtuse perception of these niceties, and hence he substitutes _boasted_ +for _blessed_—converting Shakespeare’s language into mere verbiage. + +COMEDY OF ERRORS—_Act I. Scene_ 1.—The alteration of the word “nature” +into “fortune” in the following lines, is an undoubted departure from +the genuine language of Shakespeare, and a perversion of his sense. +Ægeon, whose life has been forfeited by his accidental arrival at +Ephesus, says— + + “Yet that the world may witness that my end + Was wrought by _nature_, not by vile offence, + I’ll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.” + +Mr Collier, slightly doubtful of the propriety of the new reading +(_fortune_), says, “Possibly by ‘nature’ we might understand the natural +course of events.” We say, _certainly_ this is what we _must_ understand +by the word. I die by nature, says Ægeon, not by vile offence; or, as +Warburton interprets it, “My death is according to the ordinary course +of Providence, and not the effects of Divine vengeance overtaking my +crimes.” But the word “fortune,” had Ægeon used it, would rather have +implied that he regarded himself as an object of Divine displeasure; and +therefore this word must not only not be adopted, but it must be +specially avoided, if we would preserve the meaning of Shakespeare. In +this case, the internal evidence is certainly in favour of the ordinary +reading. + +In a subsequent part of the same scene, the Duke, who is mercifully +inclined towards Ægeon, advises him + + “To seek thy _help_ by beneficial help.” + +That is, he recommends him to borrow such a sum of money as may be +sufficient to ransom his life. The MS. corrector reads not very +intelligibly— + + “To seek thy _hope_ by beneficial help.” + +And Mr Collier, explaining the _obscurum per obscurius_, remarks that +“Ægeon was to seek what he hoped to obtain (viz. money to purchase his +life) by the ‘beneficial help’ of some persons in Ephesus.” The +“beneficial help” was itself the money by which he was to “seek his +help,” or save his life. “Beneficial help” means “pecuniary assistance,” +and therefore we are at a loss to understand Mr Collier when he says +that Ægeon was to seek money by the “beneficial help” or pecuniary +assistance of certain persons in Ephesus. All that he required to do was +to obtain this pecuniary assistance; obtaining that, he of course would +obtain the money by which his life was to be redeemed. The received text +of the line ought on no account to be disturbed. The repetition of the +word “help” is peculiarly Shakesperian. + +_Act II. Scene 1._—A very little consideration may convince any one that +the following correction is untenable. The ordinary text is this: Dromio +the slave having been well drubbed by his master, says— + + “He told his mind upon mine ear; Beshrew his hand, I scarce could + understand it. + + “_Luciana._—Spake he so _doubtfully_, thou couldst not feel his + meaning? + + _Dromio._—Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his blows; + and withal so _doubtfully_ that I could scarce understand them.” + +The manuscript corrector proposes “doubly” for “doubtfully,” in both +instances; losing sight, as we think, of the plain meaning of words. To +speak doubly is to speak deceitfully; to speak doubtfully is to speak +obscurely or unintelligibly. But certainly Luciana had no intention of +asking Dromio if his master had spoken to him deceitfully. Such a +question would have been irrelevant and senseless. She asks, spake he so +_obscurely_ that you could not understand his words?—and the slave +answers, “By my troth, so obscurely that I could scarce understand (that +is, stand under) them.” This is the only quibble. + +In _Act II. Scene 2_, the expression “she _moves_ me for her theme,” +that is, “she makes me the subject of her discourse,” occurs. This is +changed by the MS. corrector into “she _means_ me for her theme;” that +is, “she _means_ to make me the subject of her discourse.” But the “she” +who is here referred to is actually, at that very moment, talking most +vehemently about the person who utters these words; and therefore this +emendation is certainly no restoration, but a corruption of the genuine +language of Shakespeare. + +_Act IV. Scene 2._—The bum-bailiff is thus maltreated. The words in +italics are the MS. corrector’s wanton and damaging interpolations. + + “_Adriana._—Where is thy master, Dromio, is he well? + + _Dromio._—No: he’s in Tartar limbo, worse than hell; + A devil in an everlasting garment hath him, _fell_; + One whose hard heart is buttoned up with steel, + _Who has no touch of mercy, cannot feel_; + A fiend, a _fury_, pitiless, and rough; + A wolf, nay worse, a fellow all in buff.” + +Here the only doubt is, whether the word “fury” (the MS., and also +Theobald’s reading) is a judicious substitute for the word “fairy,” +which the old copies present. We think that it is not, being +satisfied with Johnson’s note, who observes—“There were fairies like +hobgoblins, pitiless and rough, and described as malevolent and +mischievous.”—Nowadays a fairy is an elegant creature dressed in +green. So she was in Shakespeare’s time. But in Shakespeare’s time +there was also another kind of fairy—a fellow clothed in a buff +jerkin, made of such durable materials as to be well-nigh +“everlasting;” and whose vocation it was, as it still is, to pay his +addresses to those who may have imprudently allowed their debts to +get into confusion. Let us not allow the old usages of language to +drop into oblivion. + +_Act IV. Scene 3._—“The vigor of his rage,” is obviously a much more +vigorous expression than “the rigor of his rage,” which the MS. +corrector proposes in its place. + +_Act V. Scene 1._—“The following lines,” says Mr Collier, “as they are +printed in the folio 1623, have been the source of considerable +_cavil_,” meaning, we presume, _dispute_. The words are uttered by the +Abbess, who has been parted from her sons for a great many years, and +has but recently discovered them. + + “Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail + Of you, my sons, and till this present hour + My heavy burden are delivered.” + +“That the above is corrupt,” continues Mr Collier, “there can be no +question; and in the folio 1632, the printer attempted thus to amend the +passage:— + + ‘Thirty-three years have I _been_ gone in travail + Of you my sons, and till this present hour + My heavy burthens are delivered.’ + +“Malone gives it thus:— + + ‘Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail + Of you my sons; until this present hour + My heavy burthen _not_ delivered.’ + +“The MS. corrector,” continues Mr Collier, “of the folio 1632 makes the +slightest possible change in the second line, and at once removes the +difficulty: he puts it— + + ‘Thirty-three years have I been gone in travail + Of you my sons, and _at_ this present hour + My heavy burthens are delivered.’” + +In his edition 1826, Mr Singer reads— + + “Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail + Of you, my sons, and till this present hour + My heavy burthen _ne’er_ delivered.” + +We are of opinion that a better reading than any here given, and than +any ever given, might be proposed. Thus— + + “Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail + Of you, my sons, and till this present hour + My heavy burthen _has_ delivered.” + +That is, I have done nothing but go in travail of you, my children, for +thirty-three years; and, moreover (I have gone in travail of you), till +this present hour has delivered me of my heavy burden. This reading +brings her pains up to the present moment, when she declares herself +joyfully relieved from them by the unexpected restoration of her +children. This amendment seems to yield a more emphatic meaning than any +of the others; and it departs as little as any of them from the original +text of 1623. + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING—_Act I. Scene 3._—The brothers Don Pedro and Don +John have quarrelled, and have been reconciled. Conrade remarks to the +latter, “You have _of late_ stood out against your brother, and he hath +ta’en you newly into his grace.” The MS. correction is, “till of late,” +which, as any one looking at the context even with half an eye, may +perceive both spoils the idiom and impairs the meaning of the passage. + +_Act II. Scene 1._—We admit that Shakespeare might—nay, ought—to have +written as follows, but we doubt whether he did. “Wooing, wedding, and +repenting,” says Beatrice, “is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a +cinque-pace; the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and +full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure full of +state and ancienty; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, +falls into cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink _apace_ into his +grave.” “Apace” is MS. corrector’s contribution. + +In the following much-disputed passage, we are of opinion that +Shakespeare uses somewhat licentiously the word “impossible” in the +sense of _inconceivable_, and that Johnson’s and the MS. corrector’s +substitution of “importable” (_i. e._ insupportable) is unnecessary. +“She told me,” says Benedick, speaking of Beatrice, “that I was the +prince’s jester, and that I was duller than a great thaw, huddling jest +upon jest, with such _impossible conveyance_, upon me, that I stood like +a man at mark with a whole army shooting at me.” “Impossible conveyance” +means inconceivable rapidity. + +_Act III. Scene 1._—There surely can be no question as to the superior +excellence of the received reading in the following lines. The repentant +Beatrice, who has overheard her character severely censured, says— + + “What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? + Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much? + Contempt farewell, and maiden pride adieu! + No glory lives behind the back of such.” + +Beatrice means to say that contempt and maiden pride are never _the +screen_ to any true nobleness of character. This is well expressed in +the line, + + “No glory lives _behind the back_ of such.” + +A vigorous expression, which the MS. corrector recommends us to exchange +for the frivolous feebleness of + + “No glory lives _but in the lack_ of such.” + +This substitution, we ought to say, is worse than feeble and frivolous. +It is a perversion of Beatrice’s sentiments. She never meant to say that +a maiden should _lack_ maiden pride, but only that it should not occupy +a prominent position in the _front_ of her character. Let her have as +much of it as she pleases, and the more the better, only let it be drawn +up as a reserve in the background, and kept for defensive rather than +for offensive operations. This is all that Beatrice can _seriously_ mean +when she says, “maiden pride adieu.” + +_Act IV. Scene 1._—In the following passage we back Shakespeare’s word +against the MS. corrector’s, not only in point of authenticity, but in +point of taste. Leonato, greatly exasperated with his daughter, says to +her— + + “For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, + Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, + Myself would, on the _rearward_ of reproaches, + Strike at thy life.” + +This is the reading of the folio 1632. The folio 1623 reads “reward,” +but that is obviously a misprint for “rearward.” The MS. corrector +proposes _hazard_. As if the infuriated father would have cared one +straw what the world might think or say of him for slaying his daughter. +In his passion he was far beyond minding such a trifle as public +opinion, and would never have paused to give utterance to the sentiment +which the corrector puts into his mouth. What he says is this—that after +heaping reproaches on his daughter to the uttermost, he would _follow +them up_ by slaying her with his own hand. This is admirably expressed +by the words, “rearward of reproaches.” In this same scene the fine old +word “frame,” in the sense of fabrication, is twice most wantonly +displaced, to make way, in the one instance, for “frown,” and in the +other for “fraud.” + +_Act V. Scene 1._—Let any reader who has an ear read the opening speech +of Leonato, and he will perceive at once how grievously its effect is +damaged by the insertion of the words “to me” in this line. + + “And bid him speak (_to me_) of patience.” + +In the same speech the following lines are a problem. Leonato, rebuffing +his comforters, says, “Bring to me a person as miserable as myself, and + + “If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, + _And, sorrow wag! cry_, Hem, when he should groan, + Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk + With candlewasters, bring him yet to me, + And I of him will gather patience.” + +“And sorrow wag! cry,” is the main difficulty. Johnson explains it thus: +“If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, and cry, Sorrow, +_begone_!” This, in our opinion, is quite satisfactory; but what is the +philology of the word “wag?” We believe it to be the German word +“weg”—away—off with you. The MS. corrector cuts the knot which he cannot +untie, by reading “call sorrow joy.” This is a gloss, not a reparation +of the text. + +_Act V. Scene 4._—We maybe assured that a far finer sense is contained +under Hero’s expression, when she says, according to the common reading, + + “One Hero died _defiled_, but I do live,” + +than under the pseudo-emendation, + + “One Hero died _belied_, but I do live.” + + +LOVE’S LABOUR LOST—_Act I. Scene 1._—We agree with Mr Dyce[19] in +thinking that a quibble is intended in Biron’s speech, when he says that +he and his friends will “_climb_ in the merriness,” according as the +absurd _style_ of Armado’s letter shall give them cause. At any rate, +nothing can be poorer than the MS. correction of this place, “chime in +the merriness.” We think, however, that the corrector is right in giving +the words, “Sirrah, come on,” to Dull the constable, and not to Biron, +to whom they are usually assigned. We also consider the change of +_manager_ into _armiger_ rather a happy alteration; at any rate, we can +say this of it, that had _armiger_ been the received reading, we should +not have been disposed to accept _manager_ in its place. This is a +compliment which we can pay to very few of the MS. corrections. Had +_they_ formed the original text, and had the original text formed the +_marginalia_, we should have had little hesitation as to which we would, +in most cases, adopt. On the ground of their internal evidence—that is, +of their superior excellence—the _marginalia_ would certainly have +obtained the preference. The passage to which we refer is this—“Adieu, +valour!” says the fantastical Armado, “rust rapier! be still drum, for +your _armiger_ is in love.” This reading, we think, is worthy of being +perpetuated in a note, though scarcely entitled to be elevated into the +text. + +_Act III. Scene 1._—The corrector very soon relapses into his blunders. +Passing over several, here is one, not so conspicuous perhaps, but as +decided as any into which he has fallen. Armado, speaking to Moth his +page, says, “Fetch hither the swain (_i. e._, Costard the clown), he +must carry me a letter.” Moth replies, “A _message_ well-sympathed—a +horse to be ambassador for an ass.” The MS. corrector reads, “A +_messenger_ well-sympathised,” not perceiving that this destroys the +point, and meaning, and pertinency of Moth’s remark. “A message +well-sympathised” means a mission well concocted, an embassy consistent +with itself, which, says Moth, this one is, inasmuch as it is a case of +horse (Costard) representing an ass—(to-wit, yourself, master mine.) Yet +Mr Collier says that “we ought unquestionably to substitute messenger +for message.” + +Moth, the page, having gone to fetch Costard, Armado says— + + “A most acute juvenal, voluble, and free of grace. + By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face, + _Most rude_ Melancholy, valour gives thee place.” + +The MS. corrector alters the last line into “moist-eyed melancholy;” and +Mr Collier remarks, “‘Most rude melancholy’ has no particular +appropriateness, whereas ‘moist-eyed melancholy’ is peculiarly accordant +with the sighs Armado breathes, in due apology, to the face of the +welkin.” _No particular appropriateness!_ when the euphuist is in the +very act of apologising to the welkin for the breach of good manners of +which his “most rude melancholy” has compelled him to be guilty. What +else could he, in the circumstances, have called his melancholy with any +degree of propriety? Oh, silly margins! you have much to answer for. You +are not only stupid yourselves, but you are the cause of stupidity in +other people. + +_Act IV. Scene 1._—Having considered the following passage very +carefully, we are compelled to side with Mr Singer and Mr Dyce in favour +of the old reading “fair” against “faith,” which is advocated by the MS. +corrector, Mr Collier, and Mr Hunter. The princess, giving money to the +forester, whom she playfully charges with having called her anything but +good-looking, says— + + “Fair payment for foul words is more than due. + + _Forester._ Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. + + _Princess._ See, see, my beauty will be saved by merit. + Oh, heresy in _fair_, fit for these days! + A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.” + +The new reading proposed is, “Oh, heresy in _faith_.” But this change is +not necessary; indeed it spoils the passage. The princess, when the +forester compliments her, says—“See, see, my beauty will be saved” (not +on its own account, for, in this man’s opinion, I have little or none) +but “by merit,” that is, because I have given him money. He calls me an +angel of light because I have given him half-a-crown. Oh, heresy in +regard to beauty! None but the really beautiful ought to be so +complimented. Those who like me are plain (as this man thinks me in his +heart), and have “foul hands,” ought not to obtain _fair_ praise—ought +not to be praised as fair, however “giving” or liberal these hands may +be. The heresy here playfully alluded to is the error of supposing that +people can be _beautified_ by their gifts as well as by their +appearance; just as a religious heresy consists in the idea that a +person can be justified by his works as well as by his faith. + +_Act IV. Scene 3._—The following passage has given some trouble to the +commentators— + + “Black is the badge of hell, + The hue of dungeons, and the _school_ of night.” + +Various substitutes have been proposed for the word “school.” The +_variorum_ reads “scowl,” which was introduced by Warburton. Theobald +conjectured “stole.” The _marginalia_ present “shade,” which is as poor +as poor can be. We believe the original word “school” to be right, and +that the allusion is to the different badges and colours by which +different schools or sects or fraternities were formerly distinguished. +“Black,” says the passage before us, “is the hue worn by all who belong +to the school or brotherhood of night.” + +The context of the following passage seems fairly to justify the MS. +correction, by which “beauty” is changed into “learning.” _Beauty_ may +have been a misprint. _Loquitur_ Biron— + + “For where is any author in the world + Teaches such _learning_ as a woman’s eye? + Learning is but an adjunct to ourself, + And where we are our learning likewise is, + Then, when ourselves we see in ladies’ eyes, + Do we not likewise see our learning there?” + +This, we think, is one of the very few emendations which ought to be +admitted into the text. + +It is curious to remark, what we learn incidentally from this play, +that, in Shakespeare’s time, the words “doubt” and “debt” were +pronounced as they are spelt, the “b” being sounded no less than the +“t,” and that it was the height of affectation to say “dout” and “det,” +as we do nowadays. So changes the _norma loquendi_. + +_Act V. Scene 2._—The following, in the old copies, is obviously a +misprint— + + “So _pertaunt_-like would I o’ersway his state, + That he should be my fool, and I his fate.” + +The _variorum_ edition reads “portent-like.” In 1826, Mr Singer +published “potent-like.” The MS. corrector suggests “potently;” and this +we rather prefer. + +When the princess is informed of the intended wit-assault on her and her +ladies by the king and his lords, she exclaims— + + “What are they + That _charge their breath_ against us?” + +“To ‘charge their breath,’” says Mr Collier, “is nonsense, and the +corrector alters it most naturally to + + ‘What are they + That _charge the breach_ against us?’” + +“Should any one,” says Mr Singer,[20] “wish to be convinced of the utter +impossibility of the corrector having had access to better authority +than we possess—nay, of his utter incapacity to comprehend the poet, I +would recommend this example of his skill to their consideration. The +_encounters_ with which the ladies are threatened, are _encounters of +words, wit combats_;” and therefore it was quite natural that they +should talk of their opponents as “charging their breath against them.” +We agree with Mr Singer; but we willingly change “love-feat,” in this +same scene, into “love-suit,” at the bidding of the MS. corrector. + +“Oh, poverty in wit!” exclaims the princess, when she and her ladies +have demolished the king and his companions in the wit-encounter. +“Kingly-poor flout!” The MS. corrector reads, “killed by pure flout;” +and Mr Singer “has no doubt” that “stung by poor flout” is the true +reading. We see no reason for disturbing the original text. A double +meaning is no doubt intended in the expression “kingly-poor flout.” It +means “mighty poor badinage;” and then, a king being one of the +performers, it also means “repartee as poor as might have been expected +from royal lips;” these being usually understood to be better fitted for +taking in than for giving out “good things.” + +MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM—_Act I. Scene 1._—“Near the end of Helena’s +speech,” says Mr Collier, “occurs this couplet where she is stating her +determination to inform Demetrius of the intended flight of Lysander and +Hermia— + + ‘And for this intelligence + If I have thanks, it is a dear expense’— + +which,” continues Mr Collier, “is only just intelligible; but the old +corrector _singularly improves_ the passage by the word he substitutes— + + ‘And for this intelligence + If I have thanks, it is dear _recompense_.’” + +The old corrector is an old woman who, in this case, has not merely +mistaken, but has directly reversed Shakespeare’s meaning. So far from +saying that Demetrius’s thanks will be any “recompense” for what she +proposes doing, Helena says the very reverse, that they will be a severe +aggravation of her pain. “A dear expense” here means a painful purchase, +a bitter bargain. “If I have thanks, the sacrifice which I make in +giving Demetrius this information will be doubly distressing to me.” Of +course she would much rather that Demetrius, her old lover, did not +thank her for setting him on the traces of his new mistress. Thanks +would be a mockery in the circumstances, and this is what Helena means +to say. Such is manifestly the meaning of the passage, as may be +gathered both from the words themselves, and from their connection with +the context, which is this— + + “I will go tell him of fair Hermia’s flight: + Then to the wood will he to-morrow night + Pursue her; and for this intelligence, + If I have thanks, it is a dear expense; + But _herein_ mean I to enrich my pain, + To _have his sight_ thither, and back again.” + +The _sight_ of Demetrius, and not his _thanks_, was to be Helena’s +_recompense_. + +_Act II. Scene 1._—The corrector is unquestionably wrong in his version +of these lines. Of Titania it is said by one of the fairies, that + + “The cowslips _tall_ her pensioners be, + In their gold _coats_ spots you see, + Those be rubies, fairy favours,” &c. + +The MS. corrector reads “all” for “tall,” and “cups” for “coats,” to the +manifest deterioration of the text. Mr Singer thus explains the matter, +to the satisfaction, we should think, of all readers. “This passage has +reference to the band of gentlemen-pensioners in which Queen Elizabeth +took so much pride. They were some of the handsomest and _tallest_ young +men of the best families and fortune, and their dress was of remarkable +splendour—their _coats_ might well be said to be of gold. Mr Collier’s +objection that ‘cowslips are never tall,’ is a strange one. Drayton in +his Nymphidia thought otherwise, and surely a long-stalked cowslip would +be well designated by a fairy as tall.” + +_Act II. Scene 3._—The alteration of “conference” into “confidence” in +the following lines is an _improvement_, most decidedly, _for the +worse_. Lysander and Hermia are going to sleep in the wood. She says to +him— + + “Nay, good Lysander, for my sake, my dear, + Lye further off yet, do not lye so near. + + _Lysander._—Oh, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence; + Love takes the meaning, in love’s _conference_.” + +That is, love puts a good construction on all that is said or done in +the “conference,” or intercourse of love. “Confidence,” the MS. +correction, makes nonsense. + +_Act III. Scene 2._—The margins seem to be right in changing “What news, +my love?” into “What means my love?” in the speech in which Hermia is +appealing passionately to her old lover Lysander. + +_Act V. Scene 1._—But we cannot accept the substitution of “hot ice and +wondrous _seething_ snow” for the much more Shakespearian “hot ice and +wonderous _strange_ snow.” The late Mr Barron Field’s excellent +emendation of the following lines is borne out by the MS. correction— + + “Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am + A lion’s _fell_, nor else no lion’s dam.” + +“Fell” means skin. The old reading was— + + “Then know that I, as Snug the joiner, am + A _lion fell_, nor else no lion’s dam.” + +This ought to go into the text, if it has not done so already. + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE—_Act I. Scene 1._—In the following passage the +margins make rather a good hit in restoring “when” of the old editions, +which had been converted into “who,” and in changing “would” into +“’twould.” + + “Oh, my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore only are reputed wise + For saying nothing, _when_, I am very sure, + If they should speak, _’twould_ almost damn those ears, + Which hearing them would call their brothers fools.” + +_Act II. Scene 1._—The Prince of Morocco says— + + “Mislike me not for my complexion, + The shadowed livery of the _burnished_ sun.” + +Altered by the MS. corrector into “burning sun,” which, says Mr Collier, +“seems much more proper when the African prince is speaking of his black +complexion as the effects of the sun’s rays.” Mr Collier will excuse us: +the African Prince is doing nothing of the kind. He is merely throwing +brightness and darkness into picturesque contrast—as the sun is bright, +or “burnished,” so am I his retainer dark, or “shadowed.” “To speak of +the sun,” continues Mr Collier, “as _artificially_ ‘burnished,’ is very +unworthy.” True: but Shakespeare speaks of it as _naturally_ burnished; +and so far is this from being unworthy, it is, in the circumstances, +highly poetical. + +_Act II. Scene 9._—To change the words “pries not to the interior,” into +“prize not the interior,” in the following lines, is wantonly to deface +the undoubted language of Shakespeare. + + “What many men desire!—that many may be meant + Of the fool multitude, that chuse by show, + Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, + Which _pries_ not to the interior; but, like the martlet, + Builds in the weather, on the outward wall.” + +_Act III. Scene 2._—The MS. corrector proposes a very plausible reading +in the lines where Bassanio is moralising on the deceitfulness of +external appearance. + + “Thus ornament is but the guiled surf + To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf + Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, + The seeming truth which cunning times put on, + To entrap the wisest.” + +The corrector proposes to put a full stop after Indian, and to read +on—“beauty, in a word,” (is) “the seeming truth,” &c. Mr Singer says, +“this variation in the pointing is no novelty; it occurs in an edition +of Shakespeare, published by Scott and Webster in 1833, and has been +satisfactorily shown to be erroneous and untenable by a correspondent in +_Notes and Queries_, vol. v. p. 483.” We regret that it is not in our +power, at this time, to consult the volume of _Notes and Queries_ +referred to; but we confess that we see no very serious objection to +this new reading, except the awkwardness and peculiarly unShakespearian +character of the construction which it presents. That there is a +difficulty in the passage is evident from the changes that have been +proposed. Sir Thomas Hanmer gave “Indian _dowdy_”—Mr Singer, “Indian +_gipsy_,” which, however, he now abandons. We still confess a partiality +for the old text, both in the words and in the pointing. “An Indian +beauty” may mean the worst species of ugliness, just as a Dutch +nightingale means a toad. Still we believe that a good deal might be +said in favour of the MS. corrector’s punctuation. + +Bassanio, descanting on the portrait of Portia, and on the difficulties +the painter must have had to contend with, thus expresses his admiration +of the eyes— + + “How could he see to do them? having made one, + Methinks, it should have power to steal both his, + And leave itself _unfurnished_.” + +The corrector reads “unfinished,” which Johnson long ago condemned. +“Unfurnished” means, as Mr Collier formerly admitted, unprovided with a +counterpart—a fellow-eye. + +We willingly concede to Mr Collier the “bollen” instead of the “woolen” +bagpipe. And when he next “blaws up his chanter,” may the devil dance +away with his anonymous corrector, and the bulk of his emendations, as +effectually as he ever did with the exciseman. + +AS YOU LIKE IT—_Act I. Scene 2._—In opposition to Mr Collier, we take +leave to say that Sir Thomas Hanmer was _not_ right in altering “there +is such odds in the _man_” to “there is such odds in the _men_.” What is +meant to be said is, “there is such superiority (of strength) in the +_man_;” and “odds” formerly signified _superiority_, as may be learnt +from the following sentence of Hobbes—“The passion of laughter,” says +Hobbes, “proceedeth from the sudden imagination of our own _odds_ and +eminency.”[21] Mr Collier’s man, who concurs with Sir Thomas Hanmer, is, +of course, equally at fault. + +_Act I. Scene 3._—“Safest haste”—that is, most convenient despatch—is +much more probable than “fastest haste,” inasmuch as the lady to whom +the words “despatch you with your _safest_ haste” are addressed, is +allowed _ten days_ to take herself off in. + +_Act II. Scene 3._—When Orlando, speaking of his unnatural brother, in +whose hands he expresses his determination to place himself, rather than +take to robbing on the highway, says, + + “I will rather subject me to the malice + Of a _diverted blood, and bloody brother_,” + +the language is so strikingly Shakesperian, that nothing but the most +extreme obtuseness can excuse the MS. corrector’s perverse reading— + + “Of a diverted, _proud_, and bloody brother.” + +“Diverted blood,” says Dr Johnson, means “blood turned out of the course +of nature;” and there cannot be a finer phrase for an unnatural kinsman. + +_Act II. Scene 7._—The following passage is obviously corrupt. Jacques, +inveighing against the pride of going finely dressed, says— + + “Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, + Till that the _very very_ means do ebb?” + +The MS. correction is— + + “Till that the very means _of wear_ do ebb.” + +Mr Singer suggests, “Till that the _wearer’s_ very means do ebb.” The +two meanings are the same: people, carried away by pride, dress finely, +until their means are exhausted. But Mr Singer keeps nearest to the old +text. + +_Act III. Scene 4._—“Capable impressure” must be vindicated as the +undoubted language of Shakespeare, against the MS. corrector, Mr +Collier, and Mr Singer, all of whom would advocate “palpable +impressure.” + + “Lean but on a rush, + The cicatrice and _capable impressure_, + Thy palm a moment keeps.” + +“Capable impressure” means an indentation in the palm of the hand +sufficiently deep to _contain_ something within it. + +_Act IV. Scene 1._—Both the MS. corrector and Mr Collier have totally +misunderstood Rosalind, when she says, “Marry, that should you, or I +should think my honesty ranker than my wit.” The meaning, one would +think, is sufficiently obvious. + +_Act V. Scene 4._—And equally obvious is the meaning of the following +line, which requires no emendation. Orlando says that he is + + “As those who fear they hope, and know they fear.” + +That is, he is as those who fear that they are feeding on _mere_ +hope—hope which is not to end in fruition—and who are certain that they +fear or apprehend the worst:—a painful state to be in. The marginal +correction, “As those who fear _to_ hope, and know they fear,” is +nonsense. + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.—_Induction. Scene I._—We agree with the margins +in thinking that the following line requires to be amended, by the +insertion of “what” or “who.” In the directions given about the tricks +to be played off on Sly, it is said— + + “And when he says he is—say that he dreams.” + +The MS. corrector reads, properly as we think— + + “And when he says _what_ he is, say that he dreams.” + +_Scene 2._—There is something very feasible in the corrector’s gloss on +the word “_sheer_-ale.” For “sheer” he writes “Warwickshire,” and we +have no doubt that “shire (pronounced sheer) ale” is the true reading. + +_Act I. Scene 1._—One of the happiest and most undoubted emendations in +Mr Collier’s folio, and one which, in his preface, he wisely places in +the front of his case, now comes before us—“ethics” for “checks,” in +these lines in which Tranio gives advice to his master Lucentio— + + “Let’s be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray, + Or so devote to Aristotle’s _checks_, + As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured.” + +We have no hesitation in condemning “checks” as a misprint for “ethics,” +which from this time henceforward we hope to see the universal reading. +It is surprising that it should not have become so long ago, having been +proposed by Sir W. Blackstone nearly a hundred years since, and staring +every recent editor in the face from among the notes of the _variorum_. +Mr Singer alone had the good taste to print it in his text of 1826. + +Let us here bestow a passing commendation on Mr Hunter for a very +ingenious reading, or rather for what is better, a very acceptable +restoration of the old text, which had been corrupted by Rowe and all +subsequent editors. In the same speech, Tranio, who is advising Lucentio +not to study too hard, says, according to all the common copies— + + “_Talk_ logic wi’ th’ acquaintance that you have.” + +The elder copies read— + + “_Balk_ logic, wi’ th’ acquaintance that you have.” + +This means, _cut_ logic, with such a smattering of it as you already +possess; or, as Mr Hunter explains it, “give the go-by to logic, as +satisfied with the acquaintance you have already gained with it.” “Balk” +ought certainly to replace “talk” in all future editions, and our thanks +are due to Mr Hunter for the emendation.[22] + +How scandalous it is to change “mould” into “mood” in the following +lines, addressed by Hortensio to the termagant Kate:— + + “Mates, maid! how mean you that? No mates for you: + Unless you were of gentler, milder _mould_.” + +Kate was not, at least so thought Hortensio, one of those, + + “Quas meliore luto _finxit_ præcordia Titan.” + +_Act II. Scene 1._—We greatly prefer Mr Singer’s amendment of what +follows to the MS. corrector’s. The common text is this:— + + “_Petruchio_ (to Kate).—Women were made to bear, and so were you. + + _Katherine._—No such jade, sir, as you, if me you mean.” + +This being scarcely sense, the corrector says— + + “No such jade _to bear_ you, if me you mean.” + +Mr Singer says, + + “No such _load_ as you, sir, if me you mean.” + +_Act IV. Scene 2._—“An ancient angel coming down the hill” has puzzled +the commentators. The margins read “ambler.” We prefer the received +text—the word “angel” being probably used in its old sense of +_messenger_, with a spice of the ludicrous in its employment. + +_Act V. Scene 1._—Vincentio, who is on the point of being carried to +jail, exclaims— + + “Thus strangers may be _haled_ and abused.” + +The MS. corrector proposes “handled;” and Mr Collier says that “haled” +is a misprint, and the line “hardly a verse.” It is a very good verse; +and “haled” is the very, indeed the only, word proper to the place. On +turning, however, to Mr Collier’s appendix, we find that he says, “It +may be doubted whether ‘haled’ is not to be taken as _hauled_; but still +the true word may have been handled.” This is _not_ to be doubted; +“haled” is _certainly_ to be taken for _hauled_, and “handled” cannot +have been the right word. + +ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL—_Act I. Scene 1._—In Helena’s soliloquy, near +the end of the scene, the corrector, by the perverse transposition of +two words, changes sense into nonsense. She says— + + “The mightiest space in fortune nature brings + To join like likes and kiss like native things.” + +The lady is in love with Bertram, who is greatly above her in rank and +in fortune; and the meaning is, that all-powerful nature brings things +(herself, for example, and Bertram) which are separated by the widest +interval of _fortune_, to join as if they were “likes” or pairs, and to +kiss as if they were kindred things. The MS. corrector reverses this +meaning, and reads— + + “The mightiest space in _nature fortune_ brings + To join like likes and kiss like native things.” + +But there was no “space” at all between Helena and Bertram in point of +“nature.” They were both unexceptionable human beings. They were +separated only by a disparity of “fortune.” Why does the MS. corrector +go so assiduously out of his way for the mere purpose of blundering, and +why does Mr Collier so patiently endorse his eccentricities? That is +indeed marvellous. + +_Act 1. Scene 3._—Helena says— + + “You know my father left me some prescriptions + Of rare and proved effects, such was his reading + And _manifest_ experience.” + +Read “manifold,” says the corrector; and Mr Collier adds, “we may safely +admit the emendation.” Retain the old reading, say we; “manifest” means +sure, well-grounded, indisputable, and is much more likely to have been +Shakespeare’s word than “manifold.” + +_Act III. Scene 2._—The countess, comforting Helena, who has been +deserted by Bertram, says— + + “I pr’ythee, lady, have a better cheer, + If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, + Thou robb’st me of a moiety.” + +“The old corrector,” says Mr Collier, “tells us, and we may readily +believe him, that there is a small but important error in the second +line. He reads— + + ‘If thou engrossest all the griefs _as_ thine + Thou robbest me of a moiety.’” + +The small but important error here referred to is committed by the old +corrector himself. The countess, to give her words in plain prose, +says—if you keep to yourself all the griefs which are thine, you rob me +of my share of them. The context where the countess adds— + + “He was my son, + But I do wash his name out of my blood, + And thou art all my child,” + +seems to have misled the old corrector. He appears to have supposed that +the countess had griefs of her own, occasioned by the conduct of her son +Bertram, and that she protests against Helena’s monopolising these +together with her own. This is the only ground on which “as” can be +defended. But the answer is, that although the countess may have had +such griefs, she was too proud to express them. She merely expresses her +desire to participate in the afflictions which _are_ Helena’s. This is +one of the innumerable instances in which Shakespeare shows his fine +knowledge of human nature. Whatever grief a proud mother may _feel_ on +account of a disobedient son, anger is the only sentiment which she will +_express_ towards him. The word “as,” however, had the countess used it, +would have been equivalent to an expression of grief, and not merely of +indignation; and therefore we strongly advocate its rejection, and the +retention in the text of the word “are.” + +_Act IV. Scene 2._—The following is a troublesome passage. Diana says to +Bertram, who is pressing his suit upon her— + + “I see that men make ropes, in such a scarre, + That we’ll forsake ourselves.” + +This is the old reading, and it is manifestly corrupt. Rowe, the +earliest of the _variorum_ editors, reads— + + “I see that men make _hopes_, in such _affairs_, + That we’ll forsake ourselves.” + +Malone gives “in such _a scene_” for “in such a scarre.” The MS. +corrector proposes “in such a _suit_.” Mr Singer says “that it is not +necessary to change the word _scarre_ at all: it here signifies any +surprise or alarm, and what we should now write _a scare_.” We agree +with Mr Singer; and, following his suggestion, we give our vote for the +following correction— + + “I see that men make hopes, in such _a scare_, That we’ll forsake + ourselves.” + +That is, I see that men expect that we (poor women) will lose our +self-possession in the flurry or agitation, into which we are thrown by +the vehemence of their addresses. + +_Act V. Scene 1._—We willingly change the received stage direction, +“enter _a gentle astringer_”—a most perplexing character certainly—into +“enter a gentleman, a stranger,” as proposed by the old corrector, who, +in this case, corrects like a human being. + +_Act V. Scene 3._—To change the fine expression + + “Natural rebellion done in the _blade_ of youth.” + +into “Natural rebellion done in the _blaze_ of youth,” is to convert a +poeticism into a barbarism. “The blade of youth” is the springtime of +life. Besides, there is an affinity between the word “natural” and the +word “blade,” which proves the latter to have been Shakespeare’s +expression. + +If “all was well that ended well,” as the title of this play declares to +be the case, the MS. corrections throughout it would be impregnable; for +these end with one of the very happiest conjectural emendations that +ever was proposed. Bertram, explaining how Diana obtained from him the +ring, says, according to the received text, + + “Her _insuit coming_, and her modern grace + Subdued me to her rate.” + +“Insuit coming” has baffled the world. The _marginalia_ give us, “Her +_infinite cunning_ and her modern grace subdued me to her rate.” It +ought to be mentioned that this excellent emendation, which ought +unquestionably to be admitted into the text, was also started some years +ago by the late Mr Walker, author of the “original.” + +TWELFTH NIGHT, OR WHAT YOU WILL—_Act II. Scene 1._—The following words +in italics are probably corrupt; but the MS. correction of the place is +certainly a very bad piece of tinkering. Sebastian is speaking of his +reputed likeness to his sister Viola—“A lady, sir, though it was said +she much resembled me, was of many accounted beautiful; but though I +could not, _with such estimable wonder_, overfar believe that, yet thus +far I will boldly publish her,” &c. The margins give us—“But though I +could not _with selfestimation wander so far_ to believe that.” But who +can believe that, Shakespeare would wander so far in his speech as to +write in such a roundabout feckless fashion as this? What he really +wrote it may now be hopeless to inquire. + +_Act II. Scene V._—Malvolio congratulating himself on his ideal +elevation says, “And then to have the _humour_ of state,” which the MS. +corrector changes into the poverty of “the _honour_ of state,” +overlooking the consideration that “the humour of state” means the high +airs, the capricious insolence, of authority, which is precisely what +Malvolio is glorying that he shall by and by have it in his power to +exhibit. + +_Act III. Scene 4._—We never can consent to change “venerable” into +“veritable,” at the bidding of the venerable corrector, in these lines— + + “And to his image which methought did promise + Most venerable worth, did I devotion.” + + “The word ‘devotion,’” says Mr Singer, “at once determines that +_venerable_ was the poet’s word.” + +_Act V. Scene 1._—How much more Shakesperian is the line—“A contract +_of_ eternal bond of love,” than the corrector’s + + “A contract _and_ eternal bond of love.” + +The word “bond” is here used not as a legal term, but in the more +poetical sense of _union_. + +WINTER’S TALE—_Act I. Scene 2._—We agree with Mr Collier in his remark, +that “there is no doubt we ought to amend the words of the old copies, +‘What lady _she_ her lord’ by reading, ‘What lady _should_ her lord,’” +as given by the MS. corrector. + +In the same scene, Leontes, expatiating on the falsehood of women, says— + + “But were they false + As _o’erdy’d_ blacks, as winds, as waters.” + +That is, as false as “blacks” that have been dyed again and again until +they have become quite rotten. This seems sufficiently intelligible; but +it does not satisfy our anonymous friend, who proposes “as our dead +blacks;” that is, as our mourning clothes, which, says Mr Collier, being +“worn at the death of persons whose loss was not at all lamented,” may +therefore be termed false or hypocritical. But surely _all_ persons who +wear mourning are not hypocrites; and therefore this new reading falls +ineffectual to the ground. + +_Act IV. Scene 3._—We perceive nothing worthy of adoption or +animadversion till we come to the following. Florizel is making himself +very agreeable to Perdita, whereupon Camillo, noticing their intimacy, +remarks, as the old copies give it— + + “He tells her something + That makes her blood look on’t.” + +There is something obviously wrong here. Theobald proposed— + + “He tells her something + That makes her blood look _out_.” + +Something that calls up her blushes. This is the received reading, and +an excellent emendation it is. But on the whole we prefer the MS. +corrector’s, which, though perhaps not quite so poetical as Theobald’s, +strikes us as more natural and simple when taken with the context. + + “He tells her something + Which _wakes_ her blood. Look on’t! Good sooth, she is + The queen of curds and cream.” + +On second thoughts, we are not sure that this is not more poetical and +dramatic than the other. At any rate, we give it our suffrage. + +There is, it seems, an old word “jape,” signifying a jest, which we +willingly accept on the authority of the MS. corrector, in place of the +unintelligible word “gap,” in the speech where “some stretch-mouthed +rascal” is said “to break a foul jape into the matter.” The reading +hitherto has been “gap.” This, however, is a _hiatus_ only _mediocriter +deflendus_. The next is a very lamentable case. + +_Act V. Scene 3._—Here the corrector interpolates a whole line of his +own, which we can by no means accept. The miserable Leontes, gazing on +the supposed statue of his wife, Hermione, which is in reality her +living self, says, according to the received text— + + “Let be, let be, + Would I were dead; but that methinks already— + What was he that did make it? see, my lord, + Would you not deem it breathed, and that those veins + Did verily bear blood?” + +Here the train of emotion is evidently this:—Would I were dead, but +_that_ methinks already (he is about to add) I am, when the life-like +appearance of the statue forcibly impresses his senses, whereupon he +checks himself and exclaims, “What was _he_ that did make it”—a god or a +mere man, &c. The MS. corrector favours us with the following version— + + “Let be, let be, + Would I were dead, but that methinks already + _I am but dead, stone looking upon stone_: + What was he that did make it? see, my lord, + Would you not deem it breathed?” &c. + +The corrector is not satisfied with making Shakespeare write poorly, he +frequently insists on making him write contradictorily, as in the +present instance. I am stone, says Leontes, according to this version, +looking upon stone, for see, my lord, the statue breathes, these veins +do verily bear blood. Is not that a proof, my lord, that this statue is +mere stone? Most people would have considered this a proof of the very +contrary. Not so the MS. corrector, who is the father of the emendation; +not so Mr Collier, who says that “we may be _thankful_ that this line +has been furnished, since it adds so much _to the force and clearness_ +of the speech of Leontes.” Truly, we must be thankful for very small +literary mercies! Mr Collier may be assured that the very thing which +Leontes says most strongly, by implication, in this speech is, that he +is _not_ stone looking upon stone. + +Our space being exhausted, we must reserve for our next Number the +continuation of our survey of Shakespeare’s Plays as _amended_ by Mr +Collier’s anonymous corrector. + + + + + THE INSURRECTION IN CHINA.[23] + + +Two Frenchman have just published, at an opportune moment, a curious +book. One of them needs no introduction here. The readers who have twice +encountered, in _Blackwood’s_ pages, the vivacious and intelligent Dr +Yvan, first under canvass for Bourbon, and then roaming in the Eastern +Archipelago, will gladly, we are persuaded, meet him again amongst the +mandarins. This time he is not alone, but has taken to himself a +coadjutor, in the person of M. Callery, once a missionary, and, since +then, interpreter to the French embassy in China—to which, it will be +remembered, Dr Yvan was attached as physician. M. Callery is author of a +Chinese dictionary, of a system of Chinese writing, and of translations +from the same language. When we add that both gentlemen, although at +present in France, were long and lately resident in China, under +circumstances peculiarly favourable to the acquisition of sound +information respecting its state and politics, and that they have had +free access to the archives of their embassy, it will hardly be doubted +that they have efficiently carried out their intention of giving a lucid +account of the origin and progress of the civil war now waging in that +country, bringing it down to the present day. The co-operation of one +well acquainted with the Chinese tongue must have been invaluable, and +perhaps indispensable to Dr Yvan, who, for his part, has evidently +contributed to the common stock his shrewd and observant spirit and +pleasant unaffected style. The book, which was published in Paris in the +second week of July, has reached us rather late for deliberate review in +the August number of the Magazine, but there is still time to give some +account of its contents. + +“The Chinese insurrection,” Dr Yvan commences, “is one of the most +considerable events of the present time: politicians of all countries +watch with curiosity the march of that insurgent army which, for three +years past, has moved steadily onwards with the avowed object of +upsetting the Tartar dynasty.” The Doctor then sketches, in a few very +interesting pages, the chief events of Chinese history during the first +half of the present century, with particular reference to the biography +of the last emperor, deceased in 1850, and to the situation of the +Chinese empire at the close of his reign. + +The late emperor, who assumed, upon ascending the throne, the name of +Tao-Kouang, _Brilliant Reason_, was the second son of Emperor Kia-King, +a feeble and incapable monarch, whose power was virtually in the hands +of an unworthy favourite, a certain Lin-King, chief of the eunuchs. In +Chinese annals, incidents of this kind are, we are told, by no means +rare. The chief of the eunuchs has always great influence in palace +intrigues, and his degraded condition by no means constitutes, in that +singular country, a bar to his ambition. That of Lin-King was boundless. +He aspired to the throne. Having gained over most of the military +mandarins, he marched into Pekin—one day that the emperor was out +hunting with his sons—a body of troops whose chiefs were entirely +devoted to him, and distributed them in the neighbourhood of the palace. +His plan was to kill the emperor and princes, and have himself +proclaimed by the army. Towards evening Kia-King and his eldest son +returned to the palace, whose gates had scarcely closed behind them when +it was surrounded by troops. In his haste and agitation the chief eunuch +had not noticed that the emperor’s second son had not returned with his +father. The conspiracy had just broken out, when that prince entered +Pekin. He was alone, in a hunting dress, with none of the insignia of +his rank, and he rode through the streets unrecognised, noting the +general tumult and confusion, whose cause he soon understood. Outside +the palace he found the ambitious eunuch haranguing his partisans, and +at once perceived that his father’s favourite, at whose insolence he had +often felt indignant, was at the head of the revolt. Mingling with the +throng of horsemen, he drew near to the traitor; amidst a host of +enemies, neither his coolness nor his courage failed him. Neither did +his skill: he tore from his coat its round metal buttons, slipped them +into his fowling-piece, took a short aim at Lin-King, and laid him dead +upon the spot! Upon their leader’s fall, the rebels fled, throwing away +their arms, and the prince triumphantly entered the palace, whose +threshold they had not yet sullied. Old Kia-King learned, at one time, +his past danger and present safety. + +The prince who had displayed such happy promptitude and presence of +mind, ascended the throne of China in 1820. He was then forty years of +age. According to the custom of the princes of his dynasty, he had +married a Tartar—a big-footed woman. By her he had no children; but his +concubines had borne him a numerous family. In China, law and usage +recognise no difference between legitimate and illegitimate children. +All have the same rights of succession. + +“During the first period of his reign, Tao-Kouang selected his ministers +from amongst those statesmen who, in the eyes of the people, were the +faithful guardians of Chinese traditions. Every nation that traces its +history to a very remote period has its conservative party. In quiet +times the government lies naturally in the hands of these +representatives of old national guarantees. But when it becomes +indispensable to modify ancient institutions, their exclusive attachment +to things of the past becomes a real danger. This political truth is as +perceptible in the history of the revolution of the Empire of the Centre +as in our own. Tao-Kouang’s agents, Chinese to the backbone, and full of +superb disdain for the barbarians, led their country into a disastrous +war, because they did not understand that the moment was come for them +to descend from the diplomatic elevation upon which their presumption +and European forbearance had so long maintained them. At a later period, +the same spirit of resistance to the necessity of the times brought on +the insurrection whose history we are about to trace, so that the two +most important events that Chinese annals have recorded during the last +quarter of a century, the war with England and the revolt of Kouang-Si, +have been determined by the same cause.” + +Dr Yvan then gives an outline of the dispute with England, the +consequent war and ultimate treaty, upon which it is unnecessary to +dwell, since the circumstances are familiar to most English readers, +although in France they have been often distorted, and to many are but +imperfectly known. He blames Lin, whom he describes as being then “a man +of about fifty, wearing the plain red button and the peacock’s feather +with two eyes,” for his seizure of the opium, especially because, by his +zeal, activity, and by the terror he inspired, he had given life and +vigour to the Chinese custom-house, and had made a great advance towards +the suppression of opium smuggling. “In France,” says MM. Callery and +Yvan, “where ideas are not always just, it is taken as an established +fact that, in the opium war, all the oppression was on the side of the +English, and that right succumbed when the treaty of Nankin was signed. +Nothing can be falser than this. The English smuggled on the coasts of +the Celestial Empire exactly as smuggling is to this day carried on by +foreigners on our coasts and frontiers; but it has not yet, that we are +aware, been established as a principle that government may seize foreign +merchants and threaten them with death, upon the pretext that vessels +with prohibited merchandise are riding at anchor off Havre or +Marseilles.” It is very courageous of these gentlemen thus to tell their +countrymen the truth. We hope it will not injure the sale of their book; +we have small expectation of its making many converts from the received +opinion in France, that the part played by the English in the whole of +the Chinese affair was that of wholesale poisoners, cramming their drug +down their victim’s throat at bayonet’s point. + +When Commissioner Lin had done all the mischief he could, burying the +opium with quicklime, and bringing a British squadron up Canton river, +blazing at the forts, he was recalled, and Ki-chan replaced him. Ki-chan +was a capable man, resolute but prudent; he saw that China had found +more than her match, and at once accepted the barbarian ultimatum. The +emperor refused his sanction, and inflicted upon the unlucky negotiator +the most signal disgrace any high functionary had endured during his +reign. Poor Ki-chan was publicly degraded, his property confiscated, his +house razed, his concubines were sold, and he himself was sent, an +exile, into the depths of Tartary. Those who would know more of him need +but refer to MM. Huc and Gabet’s curious journey to Thibet. At Lassa, +those intrepid travellers knew him well. Dr Yvan and Mr Callery were +intimate with another Chinese diplomatist, Ki-in, a relation of the +emperor, who signed the treaty of Nankin, and whom they consider one of +the two greatest statesmen that Tao-Kouang had. The other was +Mou-tchang-ha, the Chinese prime minister or president of the council. +“It is very probable that the Sublime Emperor, the son of Heaven, never +exactly knew what passed between the English and the Chinese. He died, +doubtless, in the consolatory belief that his troops were invincible, +and that, if Hong-Kong had been given, as an alms, to a few miserable +foreigners, it was because they had implored the happiness of becoming +his subjects.” The treaty of Nankin signed, Ki-in, named governor of the +two provinces of Kouang-Tong and Kouang-Si, took up his abode at Canton. +By the disposition he showed to be on good terms with foreigners, and by +his enlightened and progressive policy, he drew upon himself the hatred +of the bigoted populace, who accused him of leaning to the barbarians +and betraying his sovereign. In innumerable placards he was held up to +popular odium and vengeance. “Our carnivorous mandarins,” began one of +these violent and incendiary hand-bills, given by Dr Yvan, “have +hitherto connived at all that those English bandits have done against +order and justice, and five hundred years hence our nation will still +deplore its humiliation. In the 5th moon of this year, more than twenty +Chinese were killed by the strangers: their bodies were thrown into the +river, and buried in the belly of the fishes; but our high authorities +have treated these affairs as if they had not heard speak of them; they +have considered the foreign devils as if they were gods, have taken no +more account of Chinese than if they were dog’s meat, and have despised +men’s lives like the hairs that are shaved off the head. Thousands of +persons have lamented and been indignant; grief has penetrated the +marrow of their bones,” &c. &c. These absurd accusations and calumnies +had not, at the time, any influence on Ki-in’s political destiny. The +emperor recalled him to Pekin, graced him with new dignities, and made +him Mou-tchang-ha’s colleague. These two statesmen then tried to +introduce certain reforms, beginning with the army, whose bows and +arrows and old matchlocks they exchanged for percussion guns—thus +jumping clean over the intermediate stage of flint and steel. A curious +illustration of Chinese immobility for centuries. After a year’s trial, +Ki-in reported the great perfection attained by artificers, officers, +and soldiers, in manufacturing and making use of the new implements of +war. This was towards the close of Tao-Kouang’s reign. The conciliatory +spirit and enlightened views of the two ministers gave promise of that +practical progress which even the most conservative Europeans must admit +to be needed in China. Suddenly an unexpected and important event +changed the aspect of affairs. + +“Upon the 26th February, 1850”—thus does Dr Yvan, after his brief +preliminary retrospect, commence his second chapter—“at seven o’clock in +the morning, the approaches to the imperial palace at Pekin were +obstructed by a compact crowd of mandarins of the inferior classes, and +of servants in white garments with yellow girdles, conversing in a low +voice, whilst their features wore an expression of official grief. In +the midst of this throng of subordinate functionaries, stood sixteen +individuals, each attended by a servant holding a saddlehorse. These +sixteen persons wore the satin cap fastened under the chin and +surmounted by the white button; they had a girdle of bells; a tube of a +yellow colour was slung over their shoulders, and they all carried +whips. A great dignitary issued from the palace, and delivered, with his +own hand, to each one of these men, a despatch closed with the imperial +red seal; they received it with a bow, brought each the yellow tube +round upon his breast, and respectfully placed within it the official +despatch. Then they mounted their horses, and the grooms fastened them +to the saddle with straps that passed over the thighs. When they were +thus well secured, the crowd opened a passage, and the horses set off at +the top of their speed. These sixteen messengers, known as _Feïma_, +flying horses, were bound to get over six hundred _li_—sixty leagues—in +every twenty-four hours. They bore the following despatch to the +governors-general of the sixteen provinces of the Celestial Empire:— + +“‘In great haste, the minister of rites informs the Governor-general +that, upon the 14th of the first moon, the Supreme Emperor, mounted upon +the dragon, departed for the ethereal regions. In the morning, at the +hour of _mao_, his Celestial Majesty transmitted the imperial dignity to +his fourth son, _Se-go-Ko_, and in the evening, at the hour of _haï_, +departed for the abode of the gods.’” + +Directions for mourning completed the despatch. Agreeably with the +constitution of the empire, the defunct sovereign had named his +successor. It was his fourth son. But he had deviated from ancient +custom by a verbal nomination. The legacy of supreme power was usually +transmitted, long beforehand, by a solemn act, deposited in a golden +coffer, opened with great ceremony upon the emperor’s death. Even in +China, however, this last will and testament has not always been +respected, and of this Dr Yvan digresses to give an example, which he +considers as fully illustrative of Chinese manners and civilisation. The +tale he tells abounds in what Europeans would laugh at as burlesque +inventions, but which are doubtless very possible occurrences amongst +the Celestials. We shall give its pith in a few lines. Tsin-che-houang, +the second emperor of the Tsin dynasty, was already old and infirm when +he sent his son and heir, Fou-sou, to superintend the building of the +great wall, at which three hundred thousand men were working. They did +less to lengthen it, Dr Yvan insinuates, than modern travellers have +done. Whilst Fou-sou went north, accompanied by the renowned Mong-tièn, +the greatest general of his time, the emperor made a pilgrimage +southwards to the tombs of his ancestors. When far upon his road, he +felt death approaching, and wrote to his eldest son to hasten back to +the capital. Tcha-Kao, the chief of the eunuchs, having to seal and +forward the missive, audaciously substituted for it a forged command +from Tsin-che-houang to the prince and general to put themselves to +death, as a punishment for their offences. Next day the emperor died, +and the infamous Tcha-Kao prevailed upon his second son, Hou-haï, to +seize the crown. To carry out this usurpation, it was necessary to +conceal for a while the emperor’s death, lest the authorities and young +princes at the capital should proclaim the successor he had appointed. +So the body, sumptuously attired, and in the same attitude as when +alive, was placed in a litter, surrounded by a lattice, and by thick +silk curtains, and which none approached but those who were in the plot. +The eunuch had proclamation made that the emperor, in haste to return, +would travel day and night without quitting his litter. At meal-times a +short halt was made, and food was handed into the litter and eaten by a +man concealed in it. Unluckily, the weather was very hot, and the smell +of the dead body soon became intolerable. This would have revealed the +terrible truth, had not the ingenious eunuch hit upon a device. He sent +forward an ante-dated decree by which the emperor permitted oyster-carts +to follow the same road as himself. This had previously been severely +prohibited, on account of the intolerable stench emitted by the +oysters—an enormous species known to naturalists as spondyls, of which, +then as now, the Chinese made enormous consumption. The fishmongers +profited by the boon; hundreds of thousands of the full-flavoured +testaceans soon preceded and followed the imperial convoy; the +decomposing corpse reached the capital under cover of their alkaline +emanations, and was received with gongs and acclamations. Meanwhile, the +forged mandate of self-destruction was received by Fou-sou and +Mong-tièn. The old officer thought it bad policy to order a general in +command of three hundred thousand men to commit suicide, and treated the +mission as apocryphal. But Fou-sou, considering only his duty as a son +and subject, stabbed himself forthwith. + +The accession of the present emperor was unattended by any such untoward +circumstances, notwithstanding the irregularity of his nomination, to +which the formal Chinese attach much importance. He ascended the throne +without opposition, quitted, according to custom, the name he had till +then borne, and assumed that of Hièn-foung, which signifies _Complete +Abundance_. His accession was hailed with joy by both the political +parties into which China is divided, and which the authors of this +volume designate as exclusionists and progressive conservatives. The +former expected to find in him a stanch supporter of their principles. +If they did not anticipate the rebuilding of the crumbling wall of +China, they doubtless hoped that he would so fortify Canton river as to +prevent the _fire-boats_ of the barbarians from ascending it to the +capital of the two Kouangs. The progressive party, upon the other hand, +thought that the son of Tao-Kouang, and the pupil of Ki-in, would +maintain peace with the foreigner, regulate the opium trade—as the +English have done in India, and the Dutch in Malaya—and would introduce +into the Chinese fleets, armies, and administrations, those reforms +which lapse of time had rendered necessary. MM. Yvan and Callery +declare, that when they learned the emperor’s death they at once +anticipated important events. It was to be feared that the new +sovereign, a youth of nineteen, would sympathise with the sentiments and +wishes of those of his own age. And in China, where everything seems +diametrically opposed to what we observe in other countries, the young +men of education and the ignorant populace compose the high conservative +party. These two classes profess the same hatred of foreigners, the same +instinctive repugnance for foreign institutions. “They are reactionary +by nature, and by their attachment to national customs. It is the men of +maturer age who, formed at the school of experience, appreciate the arts +and institutions of Christian nations. When we were in China, Ki-in, +before he had undergone any disgrace, frequently praised the governments +of England, the United States, and France; and, at the same moment, +Ki-chan, unjustly precipitated from the summit of greatness, expressed +the same thoughts to MM. Huc and Gabet, in the holy city of Thibet.” + +For some time the new emperor disappointed all parties. Surrounded by +flatterers, eunuchs, and concubines, he remained inactive in his immense +palace, which equals in size one of the large European fortified towns. +He went not beyond the limits of those gardens whose walks are strewn +with sparkling quartz, and seemed absorbed by voluptuous enjoyments. +Politicians were wondering at this long inaction, when one day the +thunder-cloud burst. The absolute monarch displayed his power; the +reactionary party triumphed. The Pekin _Moniteur_ published the +dismissal of Mou-tchang-ha and Ki-in, overwhelming them with abuse, and +declaring them degraded to inferior ranks. The document was dated in the +30th year of the reign of Tao-Kouang—the year of an emperor’s death +being always reckoned by Chinese chronologists as belonging entire to +his reign. The successors of the disgraced ministers were selected from +amongst the bitterest enemies of Europeans, and their chief efforts were +directed to neutralise the effect which the contact of the barbarians +might have produced upon certain of their countrymen. This departure +from the policy of Tao-Kouang, who had placed entire confidence in +Ki-in, and had loaded him with marks of esteem, brought ill-luck to the +new emperor. Very soon after the victory of the reactionary party, the +first news came of the revolt of Kouang-Si. + +There had been precursory symptoms of this insurrection. It had been +currently reported amongst the people that prophecies had fixed the +re-establishment of the Ming dynasty to take place in the forty-eighth +year of that cycle, which year corresponded with A.D. 1851. It was +further said that a sage, who lived under the last emperor of that race, +had saved his standard, and had foretold that he who displayed it in the +midst of his army should mount the throne. At the beginning of the +insurrection it was affirmed that the rebels marched beneath this +miraculous banner, and this was implicitly believed by the people. “The +vulgar are incredulous of the extinction of old royal races; it is never +certain that their last representative is in his tomb: there are people +in Portugal who still look for the return of Don Sebastian, killed, +three centuries ago, at the battle of Alcazar-Quivir.” An uneasy feeling +soon spread far and wide, with rumours of the defection of mandarins. +The legitimacy of the Tartar dynasty, and the necessity of substituting +for it a national one, were publicly discussed. Here Dr Yvan translates +an extract from an English paper, in which great importance is attached +to the insurrection, and to the cry for reform which on all sides was +heard. This was in August 1850. He then paints the portraits of the +emperor Hièn-foung, and of the pretender Tièn-tè. The former is +twenty-two, the latter twenty-three years of age. Without entering into +a minute description of the physical and mental qualities of the two +personages, some of which will incidentally manifest themselves as we +proceed, we extract a few leading traits of Tièn-tè, whose portrait +forms the frontispiece to the volume we are examining. “Study and vigils +have prematurely aged him. He is grave and melancholy, and very +reserved, communicating with those around him only to give them orders. +His complexion is that of the southern Chinese—a saffron tint. His +impassible gaze seems to probe the depths of the human soul. He commands +rather by suggestion than by direct dictation. In a word” (and this +reminds us of Dr Yvan’s own sovereign), “he has the silent reserve of a +man who has reflected a great deal before communicating his projects to +any one.” + +The Doctor then gives a Chinaman’s description of the pretender’s +entrance into one of the numerous towns taken by his troops. “The new +emperor and his retinue reminded me of the scenes represented at our +theatres, in which we are shown the heroes of ancient days, those who +lived before we came under the Tartar yoke. The persons who surrounded +Tièn-tè had cut off their tails, let the whole of their hair grow, +and, instead of the _chang_ buttoned at the side, they wore tunics +open in front. None of the officers wore upon their right thumb the +_pan-tche_, that archer’s ring which our mandarins so ostentatiously +display. The emperor was in a magnificent palanquin, with yellow satin +curtains, carried by sixteen officers. After Tièn-tè’s palanquin came +that of his preceptor, borne upon the shoulders of eight coolies; then +came his thirty wives, in gilt and painted chairs. A multitude of +servants and soldiers followed in fine order.” There is a most +important point to be noted in this description—the cutting off of the +tail. It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to repeat that the strange +style of head-dress with which porcelain and rice-paper pictures have +familiarised Europeans, is of Tartar origin, and, in the case of the +Chinese, a mark of subjugation. It was thus that the victors marked +the vanquished—compelling them to shave their heads, with the +exception of a spot upon the sinciput, the hair upon which was +suffered to grow into a long tail. As a sign that they had thrown off +the foreign yoke, Tièn-tè’s followers cut off their tails. This bold +act—a treasonable offence in China—was equivalent to throwing away the +scabbard, and caused a great and painful sensation at the court of +Pekin. As a sort of counterpoise to it, the celestial _Moniteur_, the +Imperial Gazette, was made to publish a supposititious act of +submission on the part of the rebels, in which they were made to +prostrate themselves, declare their fidelity, and submit to stripes +and bondage. + +The person designated by the Chinaman, in the account of the procession, +as Tièn-tè’s preceptor, is his intimate friend and privy-councillor—his +only one—a very mysterious individual—whether his father, his tutor, or +merely a friend, none know—who accompanies him everywhere. But we are +getting ahead of our subject, and must glance at the commencement of the +insurrection, previously to the appearance of Tièn-tè upon the stage. + +The province of Kouang-Si, where the rebellion began, and which is +larger than the entire dominions of many European sovereigns, is +situated in the south-western portion of the empire, is administered by +a governor-general, and forms part of the vice-royalty of the two +Kouangs. Its mountains are one of the curiosities of the Celestial +Empire; but, since the Jesuits of Pekin, no foreigner has been suffered +freely to explore them. “According to native travellers, these masses +have the form of various animals, unmistakably representing a cock, an +elephant, &c.; and there are rocks in which are found encrusted +fantastical animals, petrified in the most singular attitudes. We have +carefully examined drawings of these figures, which reminded us of the +species resuscitated by Cuvier, and we have convinced ourselves that the +petrified animals are merely red stains, produced by oxide of iron, and +acutely defined upon the black surface of the rock. The general aspect +of Kouang-Si is singularly picturesque. That vast district offers points +of view which Chinese artists have frequently painted. To European eyes +their collections of landscapes have a strange character. Those +inaccessible mountains that seem shaped by the caprice of human +imagination, those rocks representing gigantic animals, those rivers +precipitating themselves into gulfs, over which are thrown impassable +bridges, suggest an idea of fairyland.” A glance at the map of Kouang-Si +suffices to prove the intelligence and judgment of the insurgent chiefs +who chose that province for the commencement of their operations. +Unproductive, by reason of its mountainous character, the misery of the +inhabitants was a powerful auxiliary to the rebels. They found at once +recruits for their army, and natural fortresses for their defence. The +emperor needed a far larger army, and much more efficient means of +attack than he possessed, to drive the insurgents from their fastnesses. +If defeated in the plain, they had always the resource of mountain +warfare. Dr Yvan compares the people of Kouang-Si to the guerillas who +in Spain so severely harassed the French armies. Like them, he says, +they are sober, intrepid, little sensible of fatigue, and animated by a +spirit of independence. After centuries of occupation, the Tartars had +not yet subdued the remotest districts of those mountains. + +The chief vegetable products of Kouang-Si are cinnamon and aniseed. Its +mountainous conformation, and the drawings of the Chinese artists, leave +little doubt that it abounds in metallic deposits. Hence a seeming +miracle, which took powerful hold on the imagination of the vulgar. Dr +Yvan tells the tale thus:— + +“At the beginning of the insurrection, the chiefs determined to mark the +date of their enterprise by the erection of a religious monument. For +its foundation, labourers dug in decomposed rocks, which yielded readily +to the pickaxe. They had attained the depth of but a few feet, when they +came upon lumps similar in form and appearance to the stones in the bed +of a river. These lumps were observed to be very heavy, and were +carefully examined. They proved to be silver-lead of great richness. It +was from this providential bank, it is said, that the pretender paid his +first soldiers. Whatever the authenticity of the tale, it is worth +noting by the collectors of legends, whose writings will one day divert +the leisure of the mandarins.... As if to confirm this metallurgic +miracle, there have recently been discovered in Norway silver deposits +precisely similar to those of Kouang-Si.” + +It was in August 1850 that the Pekin papers for the first time spake of +the insurgents, whom they designated as robbers; but robbers would +hardly have established themselves in one of the poorest districts of +the empire, remote from large towns and high-roads. The rebels showed no +haste to contradict these rumours, but rather allowed them to gain +credit, and waited patiently in the south-west part of the province, +until the Celestial _tigers_[24] should be sent against them. They were +on terms of amity with the Miao-tze, a race of men inhabiting the +wildest parts of Kouang-Si. Dining one day with a Chinese functionary of +high rank, in a pagoda at Canton, the author of this book received from +him a curious account of those people, which they noted upon their +return home, and now publish. The Miao-tze, the minister told them, are +aborigines of the chain of mountains that extends from the north of +Kouang-Toung (the southernmost province) into the central provinces of +the empire. They dwell in small communities, never exceeding two +thousand persons. Their houses are built on posts, like those of the +Malays. They are warlike in disposition, and agriculture is their +pursuit. The Tartars have never succeeded in subduing them. They have +retained the old national costume—have never shaved their heads—have +always rejected the authority of the mandarins and the Chinese customs. +Their independence is now a recognised fact; and upon Chinese maps a +blank is left for the country they occupy, to signify that it does not +obey the emperor. For a great many years no attempt had been made to +subdue them, when suddenly, in 1832, they made an incursion, pillaging +wherever they went. They beat the Chinese troops sent against them, and +were got rid of only by diplomacy and concession. They hold little +intercourse with their neighbours, and are greatly dreaded by the +Chinese of the towns, who call them man-dogs, man-wolves. “They believe +them to have tails, and relate that, when a child is born, the soles of +his feet are cauterised, to harden them, and render him indefatigable. +These are mere tales,” continued the Chinese minister, whom Dr Yvan +describes as a young and elegant man, and who is apparently of the more +enlightened party in his country. “In reality, the Miao-tze are a very +fine and intelligent race, and their manners have a tendency, I think, +to become gentle.” Such a race as this was evidently a most valuable +ally for the insurgents, whose first military movements put them in +possession of two large towns, in one of which three mandarins of high +rank were killed fighting against them. Siu, governor-general of the two +Kouangs, took alarm; and upon learning that the rebels were coming his +way, solicited the honour of making a pilgrimage to the tomb of the +defunct emperor. This request was refused; and the troops he sent +against the enemy were beaten and exterminated. The antiquated tactics +of the insurgents—which would hardly have much success against any but a +Chinese army—consisted in feigning a flight, and drawing their opponents +into an ambuscade. This succeeded several times running—not being, we +must suppose, guarded against in the Chinese twenty-four-volume treatise +on the art of war. Emboldened by their repeated victories, the rebels +crossed the frontier of Kouang-Si, and entered Kouang-Toung, where they +soon met with and massacred, to the very last man, a detachment of +imperial troops. + +Two political acts of great importance were now simultaneously +accomplished at Pekin and in the insurgent camp. In the former place, +the emperor sent for Lin, the opium-burner, and bade him go and put down +the rebellion. Notwithstanding his great age, the austere mandarin +promptly obeyed. As if by way of retort, the insurgents issued a +proclamation, declaring that the Mantchous, who for two centuries had +hereditarily occupied the throne of China, had no right to it beyond +that of the strongest; that that right was common to all—and that they +had an equally good one to levy contributions on the towns they +conquered. The Mantchous, they said, were foreigners, who had conquered +the country by aid of a veteran army; their right of government +consisted in possessing. This proclamation conveyed the leading idea of +the rebels, which had previously been merely rumoured. They declared +legitimacy to mean possession; and at the same time intimated their +intention of expelling the Mantchous, and transferring to Chinese hands +the management of the public revenues. This publication was the last act +of the rebels in 1850. It coincided with the death of Lin, which +occurred in November of that year. The old commissioner was in his +seventieth year, and sank under the fatigue and anxiety of his new +command. + +The Chinese year begins in February. Its commencement is a sort of +commercial and financial crisis, when everybody pays and calls in his +debts. In January it was reported and believed, in Canton, that the +insurrection of Kouang-Si was entirely suppressed, and that the +celestial tigers had gained imperishable laurels. In consequence of this +good news, business resumed its usual course, confidence returned, and +the Chinese “settling day” passed without disaster. It was a mere trick +of the cunning mandarins of Kouang-Toung, who, in the interest of the +commercial community, had fabricated the bulletins. The public +satisfaction and tranquillity were soon dispelled by intelligence of the +cutting off of tails already mentioned, and which admitted of no other +interpretation than “War to the Knife!” + +Li succeeded Lin as imperial commissioner in Kouang-Si. The +pusillanimous Siu was reduced four degrees of rank, which is something +like reducing a field-officer to an ensigncy, but was still left +governor of the two Kouangs. A very bad system was pursued by the agents +of the Chinese government—exemplified by the following incidents. In +March 1851, the little town of Lo-Ngan was taken by the insurgents, who +levied a contribution, seized the contractor of the _Mont de Piété_, or +pawning establishment, and fixed his ransom at 1000 taels (about £320). +He paid, and was released. Next day the imperial troops drove out the +rebels, levied another contribution, and squeezed 3000 taels from the +contractor! This man, who was influential in the place, and indignant at +suffering spoliation from those who should have protected him, harangued +the people in the public square. Others spoke after him, and at last the +excited mob cut off their tails, swore that the reign of the Tartars was +at an end, and sent for the insurgents, who came in the night and +massacred the garrison. Other things concurred to induce disaffection +among the population to the reigning dynasty. Li took for his second in +command a ferocious mandarin, who, when governor of the province of +Hou-Nan, where the use of opium was very prevalent, had adopted the +barbarous practice of cutting off the under lip of the smokers. Dr Yvan +was in China at the time, and saw several poor wretches who had been +thus mutilated, and whose aspect was horrible, the operation, performed +by clumsy executioners, leaving hideous jagged wounds, “very different,” +the doctor feelingly and professionally remarks, “from the elegant scars +so artfully and happily produced by Parisian bistourys.” The nomination +of the cruel Tchang (in his case, as in some others, we spare the reader +the labour of reading his second and third names, which, although +connected by hyphens, are not, as we perceive from Dr Yvan’s practice, +inseparable from the first) was significant. At the same period, and in +one day, thirty-six persons, accused of conspiring against the safety of +the state, were put to death at Canton. Dr Yvan doubts whether their +crimes were really political. In China they deal in what he calls +prophylactic justice. The thirty-six executions were perhaps a +preventive measure, and the victims common malefactors, elevated to the +rank of rebels and traitors. “They may, however, have been members of +secret societies, which are very numerous in China, and in those +countries whither Chinese immigrate. At Singapore, Penang, Batavia, +Manilla, we have known numerous adepts of the secret societies of the +Empire of the Centre—a species of free-masonry, whose ascertained object +is the dethronement of the Mantchous. + +“In 1845, we lived for several days with a merchant of Chan-Toung, who +clandestinely introduces arms into China. He took us to a house in one +of the dirtiest and least reputable quarters of the town, and we +ascended into a sort of garret. In that country garrets are on the first +floor. His object was to obtain our estimate of arms which some +Americans had sold him. They were enormous swords in steel scabbards. +The heavy blades were clumsily forged; but cheap they certainly were, +having been delivered in China at the price of ten francs a-piece. On +our entrance the Chinese unsheathed one of these large blades, and +uttered loud exclamations, gesticulating the while after the fashion of +the Chinese heroes one sees painted upon fans. We asked him if it was +for the equipment of the invincible tigers he purchased these arms. At +the question he smiled significantly, and showed us, by an expressive +gesture, the use intended to be made of them against the imperial +troops. Perhaps at this moment the gigantic weapons are in the rebels’ +hands.” + +Neither the appointment of the terrible Tchang, the executions at +Canton, nor the mendacious reports, perseveringly circulated, of +imperial triumphs, checked the rebels. On the contrary, they replied to +all this violence and boasting by the proclamation of an emperor of +their own, whom they called Tièn-tè, which means _Celestial Virtue_! He +was invested with the imperial yellow robe, and, contrary to Tartar +usage, which forbids the reproduction of the sovereign’s features by his +subjects, his portrait was circulated by thousands of copies. From one +of those prints MM. Callery and Yvan have taken the frontispiece of +their volume. The head-dress and costume are those of the days of the +Mings, from whom the pretender’s partisans declare him descended. + +The proclamation of Tièn-tè may be said to close the first period of the +insurrection. Dr Yvan points admiringly to the patient policy of its +chiefs. For a whole year Tièn-tè was kept in the background, his +partisans contenting themselves with spreading a report that there +existed a descendant of the Mings. Then they proclaimed, but did not +show him to the people. He returned to a sort of mysterious obscurity, +and showed himself but at long intervals, to his enthusiastic adherents. +The rebellion now took the character of a civil war. The Emperor +Hièn-foung, although deficient in political judgment, and in that tact +and penetration which enable a sovereign to make the best choice of +agents, displayed a good deal of energy; but this was too apt to +degenerate into violence. He was certainly not well served. Siu, still +governor of the Kouangs, was unequal to the difficulties that every day +augmented. The inhabitants of two districts refused to pay taxes; the +emperor ordered their punishment; Siu sent a mandarin to bring the +ringleaders before him; the whole population rose, and pulled the +officer out of his palanquin, which they broke to pieces, its occupant +barely escaping with life. About the same time Tièn-tè set a price of +ten thousand dollars on Siu’s head. The placard containing the +announcement was affixed to the north gate of Canton, just as Siu was +about to quit that city at the head of three thousand men, to join other +forces directed against Kouang-Si. The viceroy was furious; and as his +palanquin passed through Canton’s street, preceded by two gongs, and by +a banner on which was inscribed, “Get out of the way and be silent; here +is the imperial commissioner,” he glanced savagely right and left, as if +seeking some one on whom to wreak his vengeance. “Presently he slapped +his hand down upon the edge of his chair, and bade the bearers stop. It +was just opposite the house of one of those poor artists who paint +familiar genii and large family-pictures. The painter had hung up some +of his most remarkable works outside his house; but strange to relate! +in the midst of smiling deities, irritated genii, feetless women flying +along like birds in silken vestments, there was displayed a decapitated +mandarin. The rank of the personage was unmistakably indicated by the +insignia painted on his breast. The corpse was in a kneeling position, +and the head, separated from the trunk, was placed beside a beaver-hat +bearing the plain button.” The unfortunate artist was called out of his +shop, and kneeled trembling in the dust before Siu’s palanquin. In vain +he protested that the picture was painted to order, and hung out to dry: +he was sent to the town-prison to receive twenty blows of a bamboo for +placing such ill-omened horrors upon the viceroy’s passage, and Siu went +upon his way, gloomily impressed by the double presage of the placard +and the picture. Besides his three thousand men, he had with him a host +of mandarins, attendants, executioners, musicians, standard-bearers, and +women, and a large sum of money, which he added to, upon the march, as +often as he could. The women and the treasure were carried on men’s +shoulders, in palanquins and chests. Dr Yvan relates the following +curious incident as having occurred upon this march:— + +“They one evening reached a deep and rapid water-course, which had to be +crossed over a bamboo bridge. When a part of the escort had reached the +farther bank, Siu stopped his palanquin, and ordered the coolies who +carried the treasure-chest to cross slowly and cautiously. They obeyed; +but just as they reached the centre of the elastic bridge, a sudden +shock threw them and their load into the water. There was a moment of +extreme confusion. The chest had sunk, the unfortunate coolies were +struggling against the stream, and uttering lamentable cries, whilst +Siu, furious, was breaking his fan for rage. Luckily the coolies swam +like fish, and easily reached the shore. The viceroy was sorely tempted +to bastinado them upon the spot; but he reserved that pleasure for +another day, and ordered the poor wretches, who stood panting and +terrified before him, instantly to fish up the precious chest, +threatening them with a terrible chastisement if they did not find it. +They stript off their clothes and courageously entered the water; +skilful divers, they explored the river’s bed, and, after many efforts, +succeeded in getting the heavy chest ashore. It was wet and muddy, but +otherwise uninjured. Siu had it placed upon the shoulders of two fresh +coolies, and the march was resumed. A few days later, on reaching +Chao-King, his first care was to have the chest opened in his presence; +but instead of his golden ingots, he found only pebbles and pieces of +lead carefully wrapped in silk paper. The coolies were audacious +robbers, who had skilfully planned the exchange. The viceroy set all his +police on foot, but in vain; the thieves had doubtless taken refuge in +the insurgent country, where they and their booty were safe.” + +A Chinese gentleman, well-dressed, comely, and of intelligent aspect, +has lately attracted considerable attention in Paris, in whose streets +and public places he has been frequently seen. He is a friend and +companion of M. Callery, and to him is owing the facsimile of a Chinese +map included in the volume under notice. It represents those provinces +which the insurgents have already traversed, from the mountains of +Kouang-Si to the city of Nankin, the ancient capital of the Mings. A +stream of red spots, running across its centre, and in some places +spreading out wide, indicates the towns occupied by the rebels. The map +is copied from one of the numerous charts published in China in 1851, +towards the end of which year the victories of Tièn-tè’s troops were so +numerous, and their progress so prodigious, that even the lying _Pekin +Gazette_ ceased to record imaginary imperial triumphs. It must not be +supposed, however, that, in the case of the captured towns, occupation +invariably implied retention. The chiefs of the insurgents heeded not +the strategical importance of particular places. With the exception of a +few fortresses, into which the pretender occasionally retired, they +abandoned successively all the towns they took, after raising +contributions to pay their troops. “Their tactics,” says Dr Yvan, “are +those of the barbarian chiefs who led the great invasions of which +history has transmitted us the account. The insurgents go straight +before them, seizing, each day, some new point, which they next day +abandon. Their intention is evidently to cut their way to the capital. +In a country where the centralising system prevails so completely as in +China, the Mantchous reign as long as Pekin is in their power; but upon +the day on which the descendant of the Mings enters the imperial city, +the provinces he has marched through and left unconquered will +acknowledge his right, and submit themselves to his authority.” In +several chapters of Dr Yvan’s book we find amusing examples of the +military tactics of these strange barbarians who deem all others such. +Thirteen thousand imperialists advanced against the rebels near the town +of Ping-Nan-Hien. The rebels defended themselves feebly, and retreated +from one position to another. When this had lasted several hours, and +the weary pursuers were about to desist, they suddenly found themselves +in an ambuscade, entangled in a bamboo jungle, and attacked in front and +flank by a strong body of rebels, with more than sixty pieces of +artillery. When General Ou-lan-taï got back to his camp, it was with +half his army; the remainder had either been killed, or had deserted to +the enemy. Siu, the valiant viceroy, safe behind the thick walls of a +fortress, swore by his meagre mustaches that he would revenge this rout. +“To that end, he borrowed from the ancient history of the kingdom of Tsi +a stratagem which reminds one of the Trojan horse, and of Samson’s +foxes. He got together four thousand buffalos, to whose long horns he +had torches fastened; the drove was then given in charge to four +thousand soldiers; and the expedition, prepared in the most profound +secresy, set out one night for the rebel camp. It was anticipated that +each buffalo, thus transformed into _a fiery chariot_, would commit +terrible ravages, kill all the men it could get at, and set fire to the +camp. At first the horned battalions met with no obstacles; the +insurgents, duly advertised of this splendid stratagem, suffered them +quietly to advance. But before the imperialists reached the camp, the +enemy, who observed all their movements by favour of the splendid +illumination, fell upon them unexpectedly, as they had so often done +before, and the same scenes of carnage were renewed. This manœuvre of +Siu’s cost the lives of more than two thousand men, and gives an idea of +Chinese proficiency in the art of war. Had our sole knowledge of the +affair been derived from the Anglo-Chinese press, we should have +hesitated to reproduce it here; but we have had opportunity of collating +the account given by _The Friend of China_, with authentic Chinese +documents, and they entirely agree in their narrative of this incredible +occurrence. In the eyes of the Tartar warriors, and of the Chinese +themselves, this comical invention of Siu’s passes for a highly +ingenious strategical combination.” + +Whilst such were the disasters of his armies, and the progress of his +foes, what was the occupation of his Imperial Majesty, the Son of +Heaven, Hièn-foung? Surrounded by favourites and courtiers, he composed +a poem, whose subject was the heroic exploits of his Tartar general, +Oulan-taï—the said exploits existing but in the general’s own bulletins! +According to MM. Yvan and Callery, who have read a portion of the +emperor’s epic, it is an inflated performance, indebted in every line to +reminiscences of the classic authors of the Celestial Empire—the Chinese +Homers, the Ariostos of Pekin; so that the braggart general +appropriately found a plagiarist bard. Meanwhile Siu, who had more +confidence in golden than in leaden ammunition as a means of victory, +offered ninety thousand taels (nearly £30,000) for the heads of Tièn-tè, +his father, and his mysterious privy-councillor—that being, for each +head, just thrice the sum at which the insurgents had estimated his. But +no heads were brought in, and the viceroy, weary and despairing, +implored permission to return to Canton. To obtain such permission, he +invented an ingenious story, which the official Pekin paper was so +unkind as to publish. He represented to his master that the subjects of +Donna Maria da Gloria, queen of Portugal, were preparing for an +expedition against the Celestial Empire. He converted the peaceable +Macaists into a band of pirates ready to aid the insurgents, and to +appropriate to themselves the provinces of Kouang-Toung and Fo-Kien! +With an emperor, a general, and a viceroy, such as these characteristic +traits exhibit, Dr Yvan is surely justified in anticipating the early +dissolution of the Chinese Empire. Under such chiefs, it is not +surprising when armies exhibit neither discipline nor courage. In the +autumn of 1851, the insurgents, having taken three towns, respected the +lives and property of the inhabitants. By a proclamation, Tièn-tè +exhorted the latter to remain quietly where they were, but permitted +those who would not recognise his authority to quit the place, taking +with them all they could of their goods and chattels. A considerable +number profited by this permission, and departed, laden with the most +valuable portion of their property. They fell in with a body of +imperialist troops, who stripped them of everything, and killed those +who resisted. The unfortunate victims of civil war reproached their +spoilers with their cowardice. “Before the rebels,” they said, “you are +mice; it is only with us that you are tigers!” + +From an early period of the rebellion, the mandarins endeavoured to +discredit its banner and partisans by the propagation of lying +inventions, some of which had the double aim of exciting the Buddhist +population against the insurgents, and of rendering the Christians more +and more odious to the young emperor. Thus they asserted that the +pretender really was a descendant of the Mings, but that he was a +Catholic, and that, wherever he went, he upset pagodas and destroyed +idols. Others affirmed that he was of the sect of Chang-ti—that is to +say, a Protestant. Whilst noticing these statements, Dr Yvan contents +himself with remarking that the name of Tièn-tè, chosen by the +pretender, is purely pagan. Another manœuvre of the mandarins was to +announce that the insurgents had declared their intention, as soon as +they should have attained to supreme authority, of driving the Europeans +from the five ports. Thus they thought to set the Europeans against the +insurrection. But this flimsy fabrication was easily seen through. +Attempts were also made to cast ridicule on the insurgents, by the +circulation of pamphlets filled with incredible anecdotes. + +“One of these satirical productions relates that Tièn-tè, having +perished in an accidental conflagration of his camp, his wife had had +his brother assassinated, and had seized the reins of government. But, +in China, petticoat government is inadmissible, and people never speak +but with horror of the Empress Ou-heou, that Elizabeth of the East, who +possessed herself of the imperial power, and exercised it for more than +twenty years. In this respect, Chinese prejudices are so invincible that +the name of Ou-heou has been effaced from the list of the sovereigns of +the Celestial Empire. For the Chinese, that shameful reign never took +place. The idea of sovereign power in a woman’s hands fills them with +indignation; yet they know that a woman reigns over that western people +which conquered them, and that the English nation was never greater or +more glorious than under the rule of Her Most Gracious Majesty, Queen +Victoria.” + +The existence of a Christian element or influence in the ranks and +councils of the insurgents, which the mandarins put forward, probably +without any better grounds than their own malicious intent, is traced, +at a later period, by MM. Callery and Yvan, in a proclamation issued +after several triumphs won, at short intervals, by the armies of +Tièn-tè. In a previous proclamation, the pretender had referred, +somewhat obscurely, to the idea of a federal empire, to be composed of +several kingdoms dependent on one chief. This idea was more clearly +developed in the manifesto affixed to the walls of the captured town of +Young-Gan-Tcheou, and signed, not by Tièn-tè, although he was then +present, but by Tièn-kio, one of the future feudatory kings, who dated +it from the first year of his reign. It announced, in plain terms, the +plans of the insurgents. They would combine their forces, march on +Pekin, and then divide the empire. The whole plan, Dr Yvan, who highly +lauds it, believes to have been conceived and elaborated by the secret +societies. “Since the overthrow of the Mings, and the accession of the +Mantchous,” he says, “those clandestine associations, the intellectual +laboratory of declining countries, have been constantly active. The most +celebrated of them, the Society of the Three Principles, or of the +Triad, is powerfully organised. In every part of China, and in all the +countries where Chinese reside, are found members of this association; +and the children of the Empire of the Centre might say, almost without +exaggeration, that when three of them are assembled together, the Triad +is amongst them.” + +But if the substance of Tièn-kio’s proclamation is politically +important, to its form Dr Yvan assigns immense significance. He +recognises in it a new and regenerative element—that of Christianity. +“Its authors speak of _decrees of Heaven. They have prostrated +themselves before the Supreme Being, after having learned to adore God. +They have striven to save the people from calamities._ This is a style +unknown to the idolatrous Chinese, and foreign to Catholic language: to +Protestantism is due the honour of having introduced it into China; and +it appears that there really is, amongst the insurgents, an indigenous +Protestant, holding a very high rank, and exercising very great +authority. This Protestant is, it is stated, a disciple of Gutzlaff, the +last secretary interpreter of the government of Hong-Kong.” Having +mentioned Gutzlaff’s name, MM. Callery and Yvan—one, if not both, of +whom appears to have known him—give some curious particulars concerning +him. They speak of him as an intelligent man, having extraordinary +facility in learning languages, and of his books as narratives in which +a little truth is mingled with very agreeable falsehoods. Born in +Pomerania, there was nothing German in his aspect; his features were +Mongul, and in his Chinese costume he could not be distinguished from a +Chinese. + +“One night, during our residence in China, we were conversing about him +with the mandarin Pan-se-tchèn, who was a great friend of his, and one +of us expressed his surprise at finding, in a European, the +characteristic signs of the Chinese race. + +“‘Nothing is more natural,’ the mandarin, quietly replied; ‘Gutzlaff’s +father was a Fokienese settled in Germany.’ + +“This fact appeared to us so extraordinary that we should hesitate to +mention it here, if Pan had not affirmed that he had it from M. Gutzlaff +himself.” + +We do not here trace the progress of the Insurrection in China, the +leading events of whose earlier stages have, to a certain extent, been +made known to Europeans by the public press; whilst the details of its +later period, and especially those of the siege and capture of Nankin, +had not come to the knowledge of MM. Callery and Yvan up to the very +recent date at which their volume went to press. We have preferred to +cull from this curious and uncommon book, traits and incidents which, +although they may not be of paramount importance in a political or +military sense, exhibit, as clearly as could do the most circumstantial +narrative of the war, the character of people and parties, and the +probable eventualities of the struggle. There exists, it appears, +amongst the Chinese—at least in certain provinces—so strong a tendency +to assist the insurrection, that the viceroy of the two Kouangs +published a decree forbidding the young men of the towns to form +themselves into volunteer corps. In this cunningly-drawn-up document he +thanked them for their zeal, and assured them that the imperial troops +amply sufficed to put down the rebellion. The fact was, experience had +taught him, that, as soon as the volunteers were put under the command +of a military mandarin, and taken into the field, they deserted to the +enemy. Their aid would have been welcome, could it have been relied +upon; for, at the very time the decree was issued, the imperialists were +enduring daily defeats, whilst the insurgents, who everywhere +appropriated public money, but respected private property, daily +acquired fresh partisans. + +In the month of September 1852, Tièn-tè, with all his court, and with +his body-guard, which never quits him, took up his quarters at a town +within a few leagues of the wily and prudent Viceroy Siu. This personage +is the most amusing of all the strange characters we meet with in Dr +Yvan’s pages. Crafty, cowardly, and particularly careful of his person, +he is a type of the Chinese, as Europeans understand that nation, of +which, however, Dr Yvan leads us to believe that we have but an +imperfect notion. A short time before he found himself in the perilous +proximity of the insurgent leader, Siu had been at his old tricks, +trying to impose upon his countrymen. Having caught a petty chief of the +rebels, he ticketed him Tièn-tè, and sent him to Pekin in an iron cage. +The official gazette published the capital sentence pronounced upon him, +which, according to Chinese custom, was preceded by the criminal’s +confession. This was a long document, drawn up, doubtless, by some Pekin +man of letters, in which the spurious Tièn-tè acknowledged his +delinquencies, and attributed the insurrection especially to a secret +society founded by Gutzlaff, the Chang-Ti, or Protestant. Here was +evident the perfidious intention of the exclusionist party to bring the +Christians into discredit. The execution of the sham Tièn-tè was still +the leading topic of discussion at Pekin, when news came that the real +pretender was still alive and active in the mountains of Kouang-Si, +whence he exercised his occult influence, and observed the progress of +the revolt. When his pretended captor, Siu, found himself in his +immediate vicinity, he made no attempt to capture him in reality; and +soon afterwards (in January of the present year) that officer fell into +disgrace with his sovereign, owing to the disasters that occurred under +his government. He was deprived of his vice-royalty, and of his +peacock’s feather with two eyes. Shortly after the appearance of this +decree in the _Pekin Gazette_, a melancholy report was circulated at +Canton; Siu, it was affirmed, driven to despair by his disgrace, had +poisoned himself. When the circumstances of the act came to be known, +the minds of his anxious friends were considerably relieved. He had +poisoned himself with gold leaf. + +“The science of toxicology is about on a par, in China, with the +military knowledge of the generals of the imperial army. When a great +personage wishes to put himself to death, he takes an ounce of gold +leaf, rolls it into a ball, and swallows the valuable pill. According to +the physiologists of the Celestial Empire, these balls, once in the +stomach, unroll themselves, and adhere to the whole interior of the +organ, like paper on a wall. The stomach, thus gilt, ceases to act, and +the unhappy mandarin dies suffocated, after a few hours’ somnolency—a +mode of suicide which we recommend to despairing sybarites.” + +The year 1852 closed as disastrously as it had begun. Throughout its +whole course, the imperialists—or, to speak more correctly, the troops +of the Tartar dynasty, since there are now two emperors in the field—had +been invariably worsted, and the insurrection had spread far and wide. +Stringent measures were adopted by Hièn-foung; his generals were warned +that defeat would be promptly followed by their degradation, and even by +the loss of their heads: Victory or Death was the motto they literally +and compulsorily assumed. Another evil was soon added to the many that +assailed the young emperor. The imperial finances were exhausted; the +Celestial Chancellor of the Exchequer declared his penury, and denounced +the mandarins who nominally commanded in the insurgent provinces. They +would render no account of their stewardship; not a copper was to be got +from them—that was hardly to be expected—but they sent in fabulous +“states” of the troops under their command, and demanded enormous sums +wherewith to carry on the war. In this emergency, the means proposed, +and those resorted to, to raise the wind, transcend belief. No desperate +prodigal, reckless of reputation, ever adopted more shameless expedients +to replenish his purse. A mandarin proposed an opium monopoly. A similar +proposal, under the reign of Tao-Kouang, cost a minister his place, and +was near costing him his life. Times are changed; Hièn-foung, less +scrupulous, and notwithstanding his aversion to opium-smokers, was +giving to the project, at the date of the last advices, his serious +consideration. Meanwhile, the official newspaper published (12th +November 1852) a document, comprising twenty-three articles, in which +everything was put up for sale—titles, judgeships, peacocks’ feathers, +mandarins’ buttons, exemptions from service, promotions in the army. In +this publication, a casual reference being made to the English, they +were still treated as barbarians; but, five months later (on the 16th +March last), when the insurgents were before Nankin, and likely soon to +be within it, Celestial pride was so far humbled that we find the +authorities earnestly and respectfully supplicating Christian succour, +in a circular addressed to all the representatives of civilised nations, +resident in those Chinese ports open to European commerce, and +especially to the consuls of Great Britain and the United States. For +“barbarians” was now substituted “your great and honourable nation.” To +such an extent are carried Chinese vanity and conceit, that, Dr Yvan +assures us, if the demand for aid were complied with by the English and +American plenipotentiaries, the Son of Heaven would instantly persuade +himself that those Western people rank amongst his tributaries, and +would very probably issue a proclamation announcing that his troops had +subdued the rebels, aided by nations who had lately made their +submission, and who had conducted themselves faithfully in those +circumstances. + +Meanwhile, the insurgents employed much more straightforward and +satisfactory means of filling their treasury than those resorted to in +extremity of distress by the Mantchou emperor. In the month of February +last they captured Ou-Tchang-Fou, a rich city of four hundred thousand +inhabitants, the capital of the province of Hou-Pé. A friend of MM. Yvan +and Callery, an intrepid traveller, gave them a glowing description of +this city, situated upon the right bank of the Yang-Tze-Kiang, or Son of +the Ocean—an enormous river, in whose waters porpoises disport +themselves as in the open sea, and which allows the ascent of ships of +the largest burthen. Five or six thousand (and Dr Yvan’s friend +expressly disclaims exaggeration) are the number of the junks usually at +anchor before Ou-Tchang. The person referred to saw upwards of a +thousand laden with salt alone, and the town is an immense depot of +China produce and of European and American manufactures. Chinese junks +are the noisiest vessels that float; their crews are continually beating +gongs and letting off fireworks. The quiet of Ou-Tchang may be imagined. +It was on the occasion of the capture of this wealthy and important city +that poor Siu was deprived of his peacock’s feather and driven to +internal gilding. “The troubles of the south,” said the emperor in his +proclamation, “leave us no rest by night, and take away our appetite.” + +The fourteenth chapter of _L’Insurrection en Chine_ is chiefly occupied +by a description of the five feudatory kings appointed by Tièn-tè (one +of whom takes the title of the Great Pacificator, whilst the four others +are known as Kings of the North, South, East, and West), of the +Pretender’s ministers, of the dress and official insignia of the various +dignitaries, and of the organisation of the insurgent army, which is +regular and perfect. It also comprises a proclamation, exhorting the +people to rise in arms against their tyrannical government, and whose +exalted and metaphorical style may be judged of by a single short +extract. “How is it that you, Tartars, do not yet understand that it is +time to gather up your scattered bones, and to light slices of bacon to +serve as signals to your terror?” Notwithstanding such eccentricities of +expression, which may possibly be heightened by extreme literalness of +translation, the document has its importance, especially by reason of a +tendency to Christianity traced by MM. Callery and Yvan in the +commencement of one of its paragraphs. “We adore respectfully the +Supreme Lord,” says Tièn-tè, “in order to obtain His protection for the +people.” The descendant of the Mings was now in full march for the city +which, under the ancient dynasty he assumes to represent, and proposes +to restore, was the capital of all China. With a formidable fleet and an +army of fifty thousand men, the five kings appeared before Nankin. + +“This city, which contains more than half a million of inhabitants, has +thrice the circumference of Paris; but amidst its deserted streets are +found large spaces turned up by the plough, and the grass grows upon the +quays, to which a triple line of shipping was formerly moored. It is +situated in an immense plain, furrowed by canals as numerous as those +which traverse the human body. Its fertile district is a net-work of +rivulets and of navigable water-courses, fringed with willows and +bamboos. In the province of Nankin grows the yellowish cotton from which +is made the cloth exported thence in enormous quantities; there also is +reaped the greater part of all the rice consumed in the empire. The +Kiang-Nan, or province of Nankin, is the richest gem in the diadem of +the Son of Heaven. Nothing in old Europe can give an idea of its +fruitfulness—neither the plains of Beauce, nor those of Lombardy, nor +even opulent Flanders. Twice a-year its fields are covered with crops, +and they yield fruit and vegetables uninterruptedly.... We have had the +happiness to sit in the shadow of the orchards which fringe the +Ou-Soung, one of the numerous veins that fertilise the province of +Kiang-Nan. There we have gathered with our own hands the fleshy jujube, +which travellers have often mistaken for the date; the pomegranate, with +its transparent grains; monstrous peaches, beside which the finest +produced at Montreuil seem but wild fruit, and the diospyros as large as +a tomata. We have seen the scarlet pheasant and his brother of the +pearl-tinted plumage running in the fields. This province contains +thirty-eight millions of inhabitants. + +“To a Chinese nothing is beautiful, good, graceful, elegant, or +tasteful, but what comes from Nankin or from Sou-Tcheou-Fou. Wedded to +routine, we have but one city which sets the fashions; the Chinese have +two. The fashionables of the Celestial Empire are divided into two +schools, one of which holds by Nankin, the other by Sou-Tcheou-Fou. It +is still doubtful which of the two will carry the day. As to Pekin, the +centre of government, it has no weight in matters of pleasure and taste; +it has the monopoly of ennui. In Nankin reside the men of letters and +learning, the dancers, painters, archæologists, jugglers, physicians, +poets, and celebrated courtesans. In that charming city are held schools +of science, art, and pleasure; for pleasure is, in that country, both an +art and a science.” + +With this interesting extract we shall conclude our article, after +quoting a significant passage from a short proclamation which Tièn-tè’s +agents have lately circulated: + +“As to those stupid priests of Bouddha, and those jugglers of Tao-se,” +it says, “they shall all be repressed, and their temples and their +monasteries shall be demolished, as well as those of all the other +corrupt sects.” + +MM. Callery and Yvan anxiously speculate as to who are designated by the +words _other corrupt sects_. Was the proclamation drawn up by a disciple +of Confucius, or by a member of Gutzlaff’s Chinese Union? They admit +that for the present it is impossible to answer the question. + +But Tièn-tè’s banner waves over Nankin, and the riddle may soon be +solved. + + + + + LADY LEE’S WIDOWHOOD. + + + PART VIII.—CHAPTER XXXVII. + +Between the village of Lanscote and the Heronry a side-road branched +off, leading also to Doddington. At their junction the two roads bounded +an abrupt rocky chasm, containing a black gloomy pool of unknown depth; +known to the neighbourhood as the Mine Pool. A speculator had dug it +many years before, in expectation of being richly rewarded by the +mineral treasures supposed to exist there, and had continued the +enterprise till the miners reached a great depth, when the water rose +too rapidly to be kept under, and the work was abandoned. A few low +bushes fringed the edge of it, besides which a dilapidated railing +fenced it from the road. It formed a grim feature as it appeared +unexpectedly yawning beside the green and flowery lane, and suggested +ideas altogether incongruous with the smiling, peaceful character of the +surrounding landscape. + +On the morning after Bagot’s interview with Mr Holmes, as related in the +last chapter, Fillett and Julius were coming down the lane towards +Lanscote. They were often sent out for a morning walk, and had been +easily induced to choose this road by the Colonel, who had promised +Julius a ride on the front of his saddle if he would come towards the +village. + +In these walks Julius was accustomed to impart, for the benefit of +Kitty, most of the information collected from his various instructors. +He would tell her of distant countries which his mamma had described to +him—of pictures of foreign people and animals drawn for him by Orelia—of +fairy tales told him by Rosa—of scraps of botanical rudiments +communicated to him by the Curate. And being a sharp-witted little +fellow, with a wonderful memory, he seldom failed to command Kitty’s +admiration and applause. There were few branches of natural or +metaphysical science which he had not treated of in this way. He had +explained to her all about thunderbolts—he had destroyed for ever her +faith in will-o’-the-wisps, leaving instead a mere matter-of-fact, +uninteresting _ignis fatuus_—he had sounded her belief in witchcraft—he +had put questions respecting the nature and habits of ghosts which she +was wholly unable to solve: “Bless the child,” Kitty would say, “it’s as +good as a play to hear him.” + +Julius, hovering round Kitty, and chatting with her, frequently looked +anxiously about to see if his Uncle Bag were coming, that he might claim +the promised ride. When they arrived near the Mine Pool, down into the +depths of which he was fond of gazing with a child’s awe, the Colonel +suddenly met them coming on horseback up the road. Julius, clamorous to +be lifted up, ran towards him; but Bagot called out that he was riding +home for something he had forgotten, and would speedily overtake him. He +passed them, and trotted on to where the road made a bend. There he +suddenly pulled up, and called to Kitty to leave the boy for a minute +and come up—that he wanted to speak to her. + +Fillett obeyed, tripped up to the horse’s side, and walked beside the +Colonel, who proceeded onward at a slow pace, talking of the old affair +of Dubbley and her ladyship, and pretending to have some fresh matter of +the kind in his head. Kitty noticed that his manner was odd and nervous, +and his language incoherent, and before she could at all clearly +perceive what it was he wanted to tell her, he released her and trotted +onward to the Heronry, while she hastened to rejoin her young charge. + +Julius was not in the spot where she had left him, and Fillett ran +breathlessly down the road, calling him by name. Reaching a point where +she could see a long way down the path, and finding he was not in sight, +she retraced her steps, alternately calling him aloud and muttering to +herself what a plaguey child he was. She looked behind every bush as she +came along, and on again reaching the Mine Pool looked anxiously over +the fence. Some object hung in the bushes a few yards from where she +stood, just below a broken part of the fence; she hastened to the spot +and looked down—it was Juley’s hat. + +Clasping her hands together with a loud shriek, poor Kitty’s eyes +wandered round in every direction in search of some gleam of comfort;—in +search of some one to help her, under the burden of this terrible +discovery. No one was in sight; only she saw a yellow caravan going up +the other road to Doddington, at a quarter of a mile off. She would have +run after it shrieking to the driver to stop; but her limbs and voice +alike failed her, and poor Kitty sunk down moaning on the ground. “What +shall I say to my lady?” gasped Fillett. + + +Lady Lee was sitting in the library dressed for a walk, and waiting for +her two friends who were getting ready to accompany her, when she heard +a great commotion in the servants’ hall and rung the bell to ask the +reason. It was slowly answered by a footman, who entered with a +perturbed aspect, and said the noise was caused by Fillett, who was in +hysterics. Lady Lee asked what had caused her disorder, but the man +looked confused, and stammered in his reply. Before she could make any +further inquiries, Fillett herself rushed frantically into the room, and +threw herself down before Lady Lee. “O, my lady, my lady!” sobbed +Fillett. + +“What ails the girl?” asked Lady Lee, looking down at her with an +astonished air. + +Fillett tried to answer, but nothing was distinguishable except that +“indeed it wasn’t her fault.” At this moment a whispering at the door +caused Lady Lee to look up, and she saw that the servants were gathered +there, peering fearfully in. Rising up she grasped Kitty’s shoulder, and +shook her, faltering out, “Speak, girl!” + +Fillett seized her mistress’s dress, and again tried to tell her tale. +In the midst of her sobs and exclamations, the words “Master Juley,” and +“the Mine Pool,” alone were heard; but thus coupled they were enough. + +Kitty, not daring to look up, fancied she felt her ladyship pulling away +her dress from her grasp, and clutched it more firmly. At the same +moment there was a rush of servants from the door—the dress that Fillett +held gave way with a loud rending—and Lady Lee fell senseless to the +ground. + + + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +Until they lost him, they did not fully know the importance of Julius in +the household. He was a very limb lopt off. To miss his tiny step at the +door, his chubby face at their knees, his ringing voice about the rooms +and corridors, made all appear very desolate at the Heronry. Though +there had been no funeral, no room made dismal for ever by the presence +of his coffin, and though there was no little green grave in the +churchyard, yet the house seemed a tomb haunted by the dim shadow of his +form, and saddened by the echoes of his voice. + +Every endeavour was made to recover the poor child’s body. The Mine Pool +was searched and dragged—it was even proposed to pump it dry; but the +numerous crannies and recesses that lurked in its gloomy depths +precluded much prospect of success, though the attempts were still +persisted in after all hope was relinquished. + +Lady Lee’s grief was of that silent sort which does not encourage +attempts to console the mourner. She did not talk about her boy; she was +not often observed to weep—but, whenever any stray relic brought the +poor child strongly before her mind’s eye, she might be seen gazing at +it with woeful earnestness, while her imagination “stuffed out his +vacant garments with his form.” Rosa, observing this, stealthily +removed, one by one, all the objects most likely to recall his image, +and conveyed them to her own chamber; and she and Orelia avoided, so far +as might be, while in Lady Lee’s presence, all allusions to their little +lost friend. But in their own room at night they would talk about him +for hours, cry themselves to sleep, and recover him in their dreams. A +large closet in their apartment was sacred to his memory; his clothes, +his rocking-horse, his trumpet, his musket, his box of dominoes, and a +variety of other peaceful and warlike implements were stored there, and +served vividly to recall the image of their late owner. + +Rosa, waking in the morning with her face all swoln with crying, would +indulge her grief with occasional peeps into the cupboard at these +melancholy relics; while Orelia, a more austere mourner, sat silent +under the hands of Fillett, whose sadness was of an infectious and +obtrusive nature. Kitty would sniff, sigh, compress her under lip with +her teeth, and glance sideways through her red, watery eyes at the +sympathetic Rosa. + +“I dreamt of dear Juley again last night, Orelia,” Rosa would say. + +“Oh, Miss Rosa, so did I,” Fillett would break in, eager to give audible +vent to her sorrow, “and so did Martha. Martha says she saw him like an +angel; but I dreamed that I saw him galloping away upon Colonel Lee’s +horse, and that I called and called, ‘Master Juley!’ says I, the same as +if it had been real, ‘come to Kitty!’ but he never looked back. And the +butler dreamed the night before last he was drawing a bottle of port, +and just as he was going to stick in the corkscrew, he saw the cork was +in the likeness of Master Juley, and he woke up all of a cold shiver.” + +Conversations on this subject did not tend to cheer the young ladies’ +countenances before they met Lady Lee at the breakfast-table. On their +way down stairs they would form the sternest resolutions (generally +originating with Orelia, and assented to by Rosa), as to their +self-command, and exertions to be cheerful in the presence of their +still more afflicted friend. They would walk up and kiss her pale, +mournful face, feeling their stoicism sorely tried the while, and +sitting down to table would try to get up a little conversation; till +Rosa would suddenly sob and choke in her breakfast cup, and there was an +end of the attempt. + +This melancholy state of things was not confined to the drawing-room. A +dismal hush pervaded the household, and the servants went about their +avocations with slow steps and whispered voices. They took a strange +pleasure, too, in assembling together at night, and remembering warnings +and omens which were supposed to have foreshadowed the mournful fate of +the poor little baronet. Exactly a week before the event, the cook had +been woke while dozing before the kitchen fire after supper, by a voice +calling her name three times, and when she looked round there was nobody +there. The very day month before his loss, the housekeeper distinctly +remembered to have dreamt of her grandmother, then deceased about half a +century, who had appeared to her in a lavender gown trimmed with crape, +and black mittens, and she had said the next morning that she was sure +something would happen; in support of which prophecy she appealed to Mr +Short the butler, who confirmed the same, and added, on his own account, +that an evening or two afterwards he had heard a strange noise in the +cellar, which might have been rats, but he didn’t think it was. + +The sight of Fillett, so intimately connected with the memory and the +fate of her lost child, was naturally painful to Lady Lee, and Kitty, +perceiving this to be the case, wisely kept out of her way, devoting +herself entirely to the young ladies. Self-reproach greatly increased +the sharpness of Kitty’s sorrow for poor Julius; she accused herself of +having, by her negligence, contributed to the unhappy catastrophe. She +fancied, too, that she could read similar reproach in the behaviour of +her fellow-servants towards her; with the exception, however, of Noble, +who, melted at the sight of her melancholy, and forgetting all his +previous causes of jealous resentment, was assiduous in his efforts to +console her. + +“Come,” said Harry, meeting her near the stables one evening—“come, +cheer up. Why, you ain’t like the same girl. Anybody would think you had +killed the poor boy.” + +“I feel as if I had, Noble,” said Kitty, with pious austerity. + +“But you shouldn’t think so much about it, you know,” replied her +comforter. “It can’t be helped now. You’re crying of your eyes out, and +they ain’t a quarter so bright as what they was.” + +“Ho, don’t talk to me of heyes,” said Kitty, at the same time flashing +at him a glance from the corners of the organs in question. “This is no +time for such vanities. We ought to think of our souls, Noble.” + +Noble appeared to be thinking just then less of souls than of bodies, +for in his anxiety to comfort her he had passed his arm round her waist. + +“Noble, I wonder at you!” exclaimed Kitty, drawing away from him with a +reproving glance. “After the warning we’ve all had, such conduct is +enough to call down a judgment upon us. I’m all of a trimble at the +thoughts of what will become of you, if you don’t repent.” + +Perhaps Harry may be excused for not seeing any immediate connection +between the decease of his young master and the necessity of himself +becoming an ascetic. But Kitty, in the excess of her penitence, from +being as lively and coquettish a waiting-maid as could be found anywhere +off the stage, suddenly became a kind of Puritan. It happened that at +this time the members of a religious sect, very numerous in Doddington, +having been suddenly seized with an access of religious zeal, held +almost nightly what they termed “revivals”—meetings where inspired +brethren poured forth their souls in extempore prayer; and those who +were not fortunate enough to obtain possession of the platform +indemnified themselves by torrents of pious ejaculations, which +well-nigh drowned the voice of the principal orator. There is something +attractive to the plebeian imagination in the idea of taking heaven by +storm: the clamour, excitement, and _éclat_ attending a public +conversion had caused the ranks of these uproarious devotees to be +recruited by many of their hearers, for the most part susceptible +females; and Kitty, going to attend these meetings under the escort of +Mr Noble (who, with profound hypocrisy, affected a leaning towards +Methodism as soon as he perceived Miss Fillett’s bias in that +direction), was converted the very first night. The grocer whose +lodgings Oates and Bruce occupied was the preacher on this occasion, and +his eloquence was so fervid and effective that, coupled with the heat of +the place, it threw Kitty into hysterics. At the sight of so fair a +penitent in this condition, many brethren of great sanctity hastened to +her assistance, and questioned her so earnestly and affectionately as to +her spiritual feelings, some of them even embracing her in the excess of +their joy at seeing this good-looking brand snatched from the burning, +that Mr Noble, conceiving (erroneously no doubt) that they were somewhat +trenching on his prerogative, interfered, and conveyed her from the +scene. After this, Kitty became a regular attendant at the revivals, and +her demeanour grew more serious than ever, insomuch that Mr Dubbley, +ignorant of this change in her sentiments, and petitioning for a meeting +at the white gate, received an unexpected and dispiriting repulse. + +The personage who seemed the least affected by grief of the household +was the cat Pick. Perhaps he missed the teazings and tuggings, and +frequent invasions of his majestic ease, which he had been wont to +sustain; if so, this was probably to him a source of private +self-congratulation and rejoicing. Never was a cat so petted as he now +was, for the sake of his departed master, with whom he had been such a +favourite. But Pick, far from testifying any regret, eat, lapped, +purred, basked, and washed his face with his paw, as philosophically as +ever. + +The Curate’s sorrow at the event did him good—it distracted his mind +from his own sorrows, and gave a new direction to his feelings for +Hester. The unselfishness of his nature had an opportunity of displaying +itself on the occasion. The thought of Lady Lee’s grief had roused his +warmest sympathies, and he longed to comfort her—he longed to sit by her +side, to hold her hand, to pour forth words of consolation and hope. He +had done this, but not to the extent he could have wished; he could not +trust himself for that. The Curate felt the most deep and tender pity +for her—and we all know what pity is akin to: those very near relations, +the Siamese twins, were not more closely allied than the Curate’s +compassion and love for Lady Lee. Therefore Josiah, in his moments of +extremest sympathy, kept watch and ward upon his heart, and said not all +he felt. + +But he bethought himself of preaching a sermon on the subject. He was +conscious that his sermons had of late lacked earnestness and spirit; +and he would now pour his feelings into a discourse at once touching and +consolatory. He chose for his text, “_He was the only son of his mother, +and she was a widow._” He had intended to extract from this text a +hopeful moral, and to set forth powerfully the reasons for being +resigned and trustful under such trials. But the poor Curate felt too +deeply himself on the occasion to be the minister of comfort to others, +and, breaking down half-a-dozen times from emotion, set all Lanscote +weeping. + +“How could you make us all cry so, Josiah?” asked Rosa, reproachfully. +“Weren’t we sad enough before?” + +In fact, it seemed as if poor Julius might have lived long, and died at +a green old age, without being either more faithfully remembered or more +sincerely lamented. + +Finding themselves disappointed in all their efforts to comfort Lady +Lee, Orelia and Rosa came to the conclusion that, so long as she +remained at the Heronry, she would never cease to be saddened by the +image of the lost Juley. So they agreed it would be well to persuade her +to leave the now sorrowful scene; and no place seemed so likely to +divert her sorrow, by making a powerful appeal to her feelings, as +Orelia’s cottage. Here she might recall her maiden fancies, and renew +her youth, while her married life might slip aside like a sad episode in +her existence. + +“We’ll all start together next week,” said Orelia, when she had obtained +Lady Lee’s sanction to this arrangement. + +“No,” said Rosa, “not all, Reley. You and Hester shall go.” + +“What does the monkey mean?” cried Orelia. “You don’t suppose we’re +going without you, do you?” + +“You know I should like to accompany you, Reley,” said Rosa, “and you +know I shall be dreadfully disconsolate without you; but I must go and +live with Josiah.” + +“Live with Josiah, indeed!” quoth Orelia, with high scorn. “What does +Josiah want of you, d’ye think, to plague his life out? Hasn’t he got +that Mrs what’s-her-name, his housekeeper, to take care of him and his +property? I’m sure I never see the woman without thinking of +candle-ends.” + +“’Tisn’t to take care of him that I stay, but to comfort him,” said +Rosa. “You’ve no idea how low-spirited Josiah has been this some time +past, ever since his friend Captain Fane went away. He has lost his +interest in his books and flowers, and sits for hours in thought looking +so melancholy. Oh! I couldn’t think of leaving him.” + +Rosa persisted in this determination, and all the concession they could +obtain was, that as soon as Josiah recovered his spirits she would +rejoin her friends at Orelia’s cottage. Meantime, the latter and Lady +Lee made preparations for a speedy departure. + + + CHAPTER XXXIX. + +The Squire’s preceptor, Mr Randy, saw with concern that he could never +hope to obtain undivided empire over his pupil. He had, it is true, +considerable influence with him—knew and humoured his foibles—assisted +him with advice on difficult points, and had, in fact, become in various +ways almost necessary to him. Nevertheless, he felt that Mr Dubbley’s +susceptibility to female fascinations perpetually endangered his +position. He had, indeed, attained the post of grand vizier, but might +at any moment be stripped of his dignities at the first suggestion of a +hostile sultana. + +After long consideration of the subject, Mr Randy came to the conclusion +that the most effectual way to establish himself firmly at Monkstone +would be, to take care that this other great power, whose possible +advent be constantly dreaded, instead of being a rival, should be +entirely in his interests. This seemed to him, theoretically, a +master-stroke of policy; to carry it into practice might not be easy. As +he was revolving the matter in his mind one evening, after passing +through Lanscote on his way home from Monkstone to Doddington, he +perceived the Curate’s housekeeper taking a little fresh air at the +garden gate. She had heated herself with the operation of making her own +tea, and leaving the tea-pot on the hob, to “draw” as she termed it, had +come out to cool herself before drinking it. + +At the sight of her, Mr Randy’s air became brisker. He walked more +jauntily—he swung and twirled his stick, instead of leaning on it—he +placed his hat a little on one side of his head—and he re-buttoned his +coat, which he had loosened in order to walk with more ease and +convenience. + +He was acquainted with Mrs Greene, and frequently stopped to talk with +her as he passed; and, as he approached now, he took off his hat, and +made what would have been a very imposing bow had he not unluckily slipt +at a critical moment on a pebble, and thus impaired the dignity of the +obeisance. + +“A lovely evening, Mrs Greene,” said Mr Randy, whose courtesy was +somewhat ponderous and antique, and whose conversation, when he was on +his stilts, rather resembled scraps from a paper of the _Rambler_ than +the discourse of ordinary men. “Happy are you, my good Mrs Greene, who, +‘far from the busy hum of men,’” (whenever Mr Randy indulged in a +quotation he made a pause before and after it) “can dwell placidly in +such a scene as this. A scene,” added Mr Randy, looking round at the +house and garden with a gratified air—“a scene that Horus would have +revelled in. A pleasant life, is it not, my good madam?” + +“It’s lonesome,” said Mrs Greene. + +“The better for meditation,” returned Mr Randy didactically. “What says +the poet?—‘My mind to me a kingdom is,’—and who could desire a fairer +dominion? Ay,” (shaking his head and smiling seriously) “with a few +favourite authors, and with the necessaries of life, one might be +content to let the hours slip by here without envying the proud +possessors of palluses.” + +Though Jennifer admired this style of conversation exceedingly, she was +hardly equal to sustaining it. “You seem to be a good deal with Squire +Dubbley, Mr Randy,” she said. + +Mr Randy answered in the affirmative, taking, at the same time, a pinch +of snuff. + +“He’s a queer one, they say,” said Jennifer. “I should think ’twas +tiresome for a book-learned gentleman like you, Mr Randy, to be so much +in his company.” + +“Not at all, Mrs Greene,” said Mr Randy. “What says the Latin +writer?—‘Homo sum, nihil humanum a me alienum puto,’ which means, my +good madam, that, being myself a human being, I am interested in all +that appertains to humanity. I study the squire with much satisfaction.” + +“He’s a gay man the Squire,” said Jennifer sententiously. “Why don’t he +marry and live respectable, I wonder? Hasn’t he got a lady in his eye +yet, Mr Randy?” + +“Marriage is a serious thing, my good Mrs Greene—a very serious thing +indeed. No,” said Mr Randy, confidentially: “what he wants is a +housekeeper, Mrs Greene, such a one as some gentlemen I could name are +so fortunate as to possess—a respectable, careful person, who could take +care of his domestic affairs, and prevent him from being fooled by any +idle hussy of a servant-maid who may happen to have an impudent, pretty +face of her own.” + +“I should like,” said Jennifer, with compressed lips and threatening +eyes—“I should like to see any such show their impudent faces in a house +where I was. They wouldn’t come again in a hurry, I can tell ’em.” And, +indeed, it was very likely they would not. + +“Ah,” said Mr Randy, in deep admiration, “Mr Young is a fortunate man. +He has secured a housekeeper whom we may safely pronounce to be one in a +thousand.” + +Jennifer, though austere, was not quite steeled against flattery. She +looked on the learned man with prim complacency—she remembered that her +tea had now stood long enough—and she suggested that perhaps Mr Randy’s +walk had disposed him for some refreshment, and she should take his +company during the meal as a favour. + +Mr Randy was not particularly addicted to tea: on all those points for +which it has been extolled—as a stimulant, as a refresher, as an +agreeable beverage—he considered it to be greatly excelled by +brandy-and-water. But the subject just touched upon was one in which he +was greatly interested, and he resolved to follow up an idea that had +occurred to him; so he courteously accepted Jennifer’s invitation, and +followed her into the parsonage. + +Mrs Greene’s room was a model of order, rather too much so perhaps for +comfort—and showed other traces of her presiding spirit in a certain air +of thriftiness which pervaded it. Reigning supreme, as Jennifer did in +the Curate’s household, she might have indulged in small luxuries at her +pleasure had she possessed any taste for them, but the practice of +saving, for its own sake, afforded her positive delight. The shelves +were rather sparingly furnished with jam-pots of very small dimensions, +carefully tied down and corded, and marked with the name of the +confection, and the year of its manufacture; various boxes and +canisters, labelled as containing different groceries, were securely +padlocked, as if they were not likely to be opened on light or +insufficient grounds; the curtains rather scantily covered the window, +and the carpet was too small for the floor. + +Jennifer, unlocking the tea-caddy, put in two additional spoonfuls of +tea in consideration of her guest. Then she invited Mr Randy to sit +down, which he did with great ceremony; while she placed on the table +two saucers of jam, helped Mr Randy to toast and butter, and some of the +sweetmeat, and poured out the tea. And Mr Randy observing that Jennifer +transferred hers to her saucer, for the better convenience of drinking, +not only did the like, but also blew on the surface to reduce the +temperature before the successive gulps, which were then both copious +and sonorous. + +“So the Squire’s not a good manager, eh, Mr Randy?” said Jennifer, after +some little conversation on indifferent matters. + +“No comfort, no elegance,” said Mr Randy. “The superintending hand of a +female is greatly wanted.” + +“And does the Squire think of getting a housekeeper?” asked Jennifer. + +“I’ve not suggested it to him as yet,” returned her guest, “but I’m +thinking of doing so, if I could fix my eye on a proper person.” + +“Bless me, you’ve got no preserve,” said Jennifer, emptying, in a sudden +access of liberality, the saucer of damsons on Mr Randy’s plate. “And +there’s nothing but grounds in your cup—perhaps you’d like it a little +stronger, sir.” + +“No more, my good madam, I’m obliged to you,” said that gentleman, +drawing away his cup, and covering it with his hand to show he was in +earnest, so that Jennifer, pressing ardently upon him with the tea-pot, +very nearly poured the hot tea upon his knuckles. “I’ve had quite an +abundance—quite a sufficiency, I assure you. No, ma’am, things do not go +on at Monkstone precisely as I could wish in all respects. For instance, +it would be agreeable to me sometimes to find an attentive female to +receive me—to say to me, Mr Randy you are wet, won’t you have a basin of +soup to warm you?—or, Mr Randy, it rains, you’ll be the better of a +glass of spirits and water to fortify you against the inclemency of the +elements. Mr Dubbley is very kind, but these little things don’t occur +to him.” + +“Indeed, then, I think they might,” said Mrs Greene with warmth. “The +least he could do is to be civil. Take some toast, sir.” + +“’Tis forgetfulness, Mrs Greene, not incivility—a sin of omission, not +of commission. I flatter myself few men would venture to be uncivil to +me,” and Mr Randy drew himself up and looked majestic. “Then the want of +a proper person in the house obliges him to look more closely after some +small matters than is quite becoming in a man of property.” + +“Closeness,” said Jennifer, with great disdain, “is what I never could +abide. I could forgive anything better than that.” + +“Well, well, Mrs Greene,” said her visitor, waving his hand, “we won’t +be hard upon him—he means well. Yes, I’ve been looking out for some time +for a lady that would answer the Squire’s purpose.” + +“And what kind of person would be likely to suit you?” inquired Jennifer +with interest. + +“We should require,” said Mr Randy, brushing some crumbs from +his lap with his pocket-handkerchief, as he concluded his +meal—“we should require a character not easy to be met with;—a +sensible—respectable—experienced—discreet—per-r-son—and one, too, who +would not give herself presumptuous airs, but would conduct herself +towards me—me, Mrs Greene, as I could wish.” + +“Of course,” said Jennifer, “if she was beholden to you for her place, +’twould be her duty to make things pleasant to you, sir.” + +“Ah,” said Mr Randy, “_you_ are both a discreet and a sensible person, +Mrs Greene, I perceive.” + +“And as to terms, Mr Randy,” suggested Jennifer. + +“As to terms, they would be hardly worth higgling about, Mrs Greene—for, +if the lady possessed the manifold merits I have enumerated, and allowed +herself to be guided in all things by me, why, she would be _de +facto_—that is to say, in reality—mistress of Monkstone, and might +feather her nest to her own liking.” + +This was a dazzling prospect indeed, and well calculated to appeal to +the heart of Jennifer. There was a grand indefiniteness as to the extent +of power and profit which might be acquired, which she found +inexpressibly alluring; for Jennifer was, after her fashion, ambitious, +though her ambition was of too practical a nature to set itself on +objects hopelessly remote. + +Mr Randy perceiving the effect of what he had said, and considering it +would be well to give her time to digest it before entering into +details, now rose to take leave. + +“Good evening, sir, and thank you,” said Jennifer. “When you’re passing +another day, I hope you’ll look in;” and Mr Randy, having promised to do +so, walked with his customary dignity up the road. + +Mr Randy had not directly said that he thought Jennifer, if she would +agree to share interests with him, would be exactly the person he +wanted; nor had Jennifer directly stated that, if she succeeded in +obtaining the post of housekeeper to the Squire, she would show her +gratitude by being all Mr Randy could wish. But the knowledge of human +nature displayed by the Randies and Jennifers is intuitive and unerring, +so long as it is employed upon natures on a level with their own; and +Jennifer knew perfectly well that Mr Randy wanted her for the +furtherance of his own designs at Monkstone; while Mr Randy never +doubted that the lure he had held out would secure her. + +Jennifer, however, had by no means made up her mind to accept the offer +at once. It was dazzling, certainly; but, on the other hand, she did not +like the idea of giving up her long and persevering designs upon the +Curate’s heart, which, as the reader knows, she had from the first been +determined to attack. That was too grievous a waste of time and subtlety +to be contemplated. But Mr Randy’s implied offer gave her an opportunity +of carrying into execution a scheme she had long meditated. She +considered (her cogitations being assisted by a third cup of tea, +obtained by putting fresh water in the tea-pot after Mr Randy’s +departure) that she had now lived so long with the Curate that she could +not possibly become more necessary to him than she already was—that the +sooner he was brought to the point the better—that being such an absent +person, far from making any proposals of the kind she desired of his own +accord, a very strong hint from herself would be required in order to +extract them. Now if she resolved upon giving this hint, she must also +be prepared to quit the parsonage in case of failure; and Monkstone +would form exactly the point she wanted to retreat upon. + +This secured, she would commence operations at once with the Curate. He +was, in Jennifer’s estimation, a man who did not know his own mind or +his own interests. But though he might never discover what was for his +own good unassisted, yet a man must be foolish indeed who can’t perceive +it when ’tis shown him. From frequent victories obtained over the +Curate, and long managing and ruling him, she flattered herself she +might now make her own terms, for that he could never bear to part with +her; but if she deceived herself in this, why, then Monkstone would be a +more lucrative place. So in any case she should gain some end, and she +determined to put her powers of cajolery to proof without delay. Indeed, +there was no time to lose, for that very morning Miss Rosa had signified +her intention of coming to live with her brother when the ladies left +the Heronry. + + + CHAPTER XL. + +For many weeks the poor Curate had been indeed alone; for so long had +his old companions, hope and cheerfulness, deserted him; for so long had +he gone mechanically about his old pursuits, feeling that the glory had +departed from them, and sat in the stormy autumn evenings by a hearth +where only the vacant pedestals reminded him of the wonted presence of +household gods. + +Time, of whose lapse heretofore he had taken little note, became now a +dull, remorseless enemy. The Curate, when he woke, would sometimes +shudder at the prospect of the many-houred day between him and the +grateful oblivion of sleep; for the day, formerly so busy, was now to +him but a long tract of weary, reiterated sorrows. + +Though he still spent many hours in his garden, it was lamentable to see +the change there. Weeds sprung unregarded side by side with his choicest +flowers—worms revelled in his tenderest buds—and the caterpillars were +so numerous as to form quite an army of occupation. His books, too, were +blank to him—the pages he used to love seemed meaningless. His only +remaining consolation was his pipe. + +See, then, the Curate sitting in the twilight in his elbow-chair, in an +attitude at once listless and uncomfortable, his waist bent sharply in, +his head drooping, one leg gathered under the seat, the other straddling +toward the fire, his right hand shading his eyes, while the elbow rests +on the table—the left holding the bowl of his pipe, while the elbow +rests on the arm of his chair. Frequently he takes the mouthpiece from +his lips, sighs heavily, and forgets to smoke—then, with a shake of the +head, he again sucks comfort from his meerschaum. There is a tap at the +door, which opens slowly—Jennifer looks in at him, and then draws near. + +Jennifer stopt—looked at him—sighed—then drew a little closer—sighed +again. The Curate, fancying she had come on some of her accustomed +visits of inspection (for of late she had found frequent excuses for +entering, such as to dust his books, to stir his fire, to draw his +curtains), took no notice of her, but continued to pursue his train of +thought. Presently he, too, sighed; it was echoed so sympathetically by +Mrs Greene, that her suspiration sounded like a gust coming down the +chimney. Finding that the Curate, as usual, pursued the plan which is +popularly attributed to apparitions in their intercourse with human +beings, and was not likely to speak till spoken to, Jennifer, with a +little cough, came round between the table and the fire, and stirred the +latter. Being thus quite close to the Curate, with the table in her +rear, and her master’s chair close to her left hand, she commenced. + +“I’m vexed to see you so down, Mr Young. I’m afraid you’re not satisfied +in your mind. You used to be a far cheerfuller gentleman than what you +are now.” + +Mr Young, rousing himself, looked up with an assumed briskness. + +“It’s my way, Mrs Greene—only my way.” + +“No, sir,” said Jennifer, peremptorily, “’tis not your way, asking your +pardon. There’s something on your mind. Perhaps it’s me—perhaps things +have not gone according to your wishes in the house. If it’s me, sir, +say so, I beg.” + +“You, Mrs Greene—impossible. I’m quite sensible of your kind attention +to my comforts, I assure you,” protested the Curate. + +“Because,” said Jennifer, heedless of his disclaimer, and going on as if +he had not uttered it—“because, if so, I wish to say one word. I only +wish to remark, sir, that whatever fault there is of that kind, ’tis not +a fault according to my will. My wish is, and always has been, to serve +you to the utmost of my”— + +“Mrs Greene!” began the Curate, touching her on the arm with the +extended stem of his meerschaum, to check her volubility for a moment, +“my good soul”— + +——“To the utmost of my ability,” went on Jennifer, with a slight +faltering in her voice. “If laying down my life could have served you, +Mr Young, I’m sure”— Here Jennifer whimpered. + +“Faithful creature!” thought the Curate, “what an interest she takes in +me! My dear Mrs Greene,” said he, “your doubts wrong me very much; but +this proof of your care for me is exceedingly gratifying”—which was +perhaps an unconscious fib, for the Curate felt more embarrassment than +gratification. + +“And after all my trials and efforts, thinking only how I could please +you, to see you—oh—oh—” and Jennifer broke down again, and in the excess +of her agitation sat down on a chair near her. And though to sit down in +his presence was a quite unusual proceeding on her part, yet the Curate +was so heedless of forms, that if she had seated herself on the +mantelpiece, he would possibly have thought it merely a harmless +eccentricity. + +“Calm yourself, Mrs Greene,” entreated the Curate. “These doubts of my +regard are quite unfounded; be assured I fully appreciate your value.” + +“But in that case,” said Jennifer, pursuing her own hypothesis with +great perseverance, “in that case I must quit you whatever it costs me. +And I hope you could find them, Mr Young, as would serve you better.” + +“Don’t talk of quitting me, Mrs Greene,” said the Curate soothingly. +“This is all mere creation of your fancy. I am perfectly satisfied—more +than satisfied with you.” + +“No, sir—I’ve seen it—I’ve seen it this some time. You don’t look upon +me like what you used. ’Tisn’t any longer, ‘Mrs Greene, do this,’ and +‘Mrs Greene, do that,’ and the other. You can do without Mrs Greene now. +And perhaps,” said Jennifer, “’tis better I was—gone” (the last word +almost inaudible). + +“Really, Mrs Greene, this is quite unnecessary. You are paining yourself +and me to no purpose. Be persuaded”—(and the Curate took Jennifer’s +hand)—“be persuaded of my sense of your merits.” + +Jennifer wiped her eyes; then starting and looking round over her +shoulder, “O sir,” said she, “if anybody should catch us!—what would +they say?” + +“Catch us, Mrs Greene,” said the Curate, hastening to withdraw his hand; +but Jennifer clutched it nervously. + +“Stop!” said Jennifer, “there’s a step—and that maid’s got such a +tongue! No, ’twas my fancy—the maid’s asleep in the kitchen. O, sir—yes, +what would they say?—people is so scandalous. They’ve been talking +already.” + +“Talking!” exclaimed Mr Young, withdrawing his hand with a jerk. “What +can you mean, Mrs Greene? Talking of what?” + +“O yes!” said Jennifer. “They’ve been remarking, the busy ones has, how +it comes that a lone woman like me could live so long with a single +gentleman. Many’s the bitter thought it gave me.” + +“Good heavens, Mrs Greene!” cried the Curate, pushing his chair, which +ran on castors, away with a loud creak, “really this is all very strange +and unexpected.” + +“And more than that,” pursued Jennifer, “they’ve said concerning my +looks——but I couldn’t repeat what they said, further than to mention +that they meant I wasn’t old nor ugly—which perhaps I’m not. And they +know what a good wife I made to Samuel” (this was the deceased +shipmaster’s Christian appellation)—“never, as Mrs Britton that keeps +the grocery said to me last Wednesday, never was a better. And when +’twas named to me what they’d been saying, I thought—O good gracious!—I +thought I should have sunk into the hearth.” + +“Gracious goodness!” exclaimed Mr Young, starting from his chair, and +pacing the room in great perturbation. “How extremely infamous! Why, +’tis like a terrible nightmare. To spread false reports—to drive me to +part with a valuable servant—’tis atrocious! I’m afraid, Mrs Greene, you +really had better go to-morrow. I need not say how I regret it, but what +you have told me renders it imperative.” + +“I wish it mayn’t be too late, sir,” said Jennifer, putting her +handkerchief to her eyes. + +“Too late!—too late for what?” inquired the Curate. + +“And where do you think I’m to get another place? Who’ll take in a lone +woman, whose character have been breathed upon? Oh, that ever I should +have seen Lanscote parsonage!” cried Jennifer, choking. + +“But, Mrs Greene,” said the agitated Curate, stopping in his walk to +lean his hands on the table, and looking earnestly at her, “it shall be +my care, as it is my duty, to prove the falsehood of these reports. You +shall not suffer on my account, believe me. If necessary, I’ll expose +the wicked slander from the pulpit.” + +This wouldn’t have suited Jennifer at all. The Curate was going off +quite on the wrong track, and she made a last effort to bring him into +the right direction. + +“And my—my—my feelings,” sobbed she, “ain’t they to be considered? Oh, +that ever I should be a weak foolish woman! Oh, that ever I should have +been born with a weak trustful heart!” + +“I daresay ’twill be painful to leave a place where you have lived long, +and a master who I hope has been kind to you,” said the Curate. +(Jennifer lifted up her voice here, and writhed in her chair.) “No doubt +it will, for you have an excellent heart, Mrs Greene. But what you have +said convinces me of the necessity of it. And you shall be no loser; +until you can suit yourself with a place, I’ll continue your salary as +usual.” + +“Salary!” cried Jennifer, starting from her chair. “Oh, that I should be +talked to like a hireling! God forgive you, Mr Young. Well, it’s over +now. I’ll consider what you’ve said, Mr Young, and I’ll try—try to bring +my mind to it.” + +Jennifer rose—sobbed a little—looked at her chair as if she had a mind +to sit down again, and then prepared to depart. In her way out of the +room, she passed close to the Curate, and paused, almost touching him, +with her handkerchief to her eyes. “If ever he’d say the word, he’d say +it now,” thought Jennifer, weeping copiously. But Mr Young, far from +availing himself of the proximity to take her hand, or say anything even +of comfort, far less of a tenderer nature, retreated with great alacrity +to his original post near the fire, and Jennifer had no alternative but +to walk onward out of the room. + +She left him, roused, certainly, most effectually from his melancholy; +but the change was not for the better. The poor shy Curate was exactly +the man to feel the full annoyance of such reports as, according to +Jennifer, were in circulation. He fancied himself an object of derision +to all Lanscote—how could he hope to do any good among parishioners who +said scandalous things of him and his housekeeper? How could he hope to +convince them of his innocence? How preserve his dignity in the pulpit, +with the consciousness that a whole congregation were looking at him in +a false light? + +Jennifer’s demeanour next day was sad and subdued. After breakfast she +came into the room, and, without lifting her eyes, said that she thought +she had better go next Wednesday. “On Wednesday,” said Jennifer, “Miss +Rosa’s coming, and then, with your leave, I’ll quit, Mr Young.” + +The Curate highly approved of this; he knew he could not feel easy till +she was out of the house, and meanwhile he absented himself from it as +much as possible. + +It was fortunate for the Curate that the period of her stay was so +short, for she took care it should be far from pleasant. She personally +superintended the making of his bed, which she caused to slope downwards +towards the feet, and at one side, so that the hapless occupant was +perpetually waking from a dream in which he had been sliding over +precipices; and, reascending to his pillow for another precarious +slumber, would be again woke by finding his feet sticking out from +beneath the clothes, and his body gradually following them. He got hairs +in his butter, and plenty of salt in his soup; his tea, the only luxury +of the palate that he really cared about, and that rather on +intellectual than sensual grounds, grew weaker and weaker; his toast +simultaneously got tougher; and he was kept the whole time on +mutton-chops, which, from their identity of flavour, appeared to have +been all cut from the same patriarchal ram. + +Wednesday arrived. The Curate, leaning over his garden gate, saw the +carriage from the Heronry coming down the lane. It drew up at the +parsonage; in it were Lady Lee, Orelia, and Rosa, all in black, and all +looking very sad. Rosa, rising to take leave of her friends, underwent +innumerable embraces. + +Orelia was the calmest of the three, but even her grandeur and +stateliness quite gave way in parting. “Good-bye, Rosalinda,” was all +she could trust herself to say, as Rosa alighted. + +The Curate had intended to say a great deal to Hester, but it had all +vanished from his mind, and remained unexpressed, unless a long pressure +of the hand could convey it. Lady Lee gave several things in charge to +the Curate to execute, and delivered a purse to him, the contents of +which were to be distributed among various pensioners in the village; +then she told the coachman to drive on. + +“Write at least three times a-week, Rosalinda,” cried Orelia, putting a +tearful face over the hood of the carriage, “or never hope for +forgiveness.” + +They were gone. A white handkerchief waved from the side, and another +from the top of the carriage, till it disappeared, and the Curate and +his sister slowly turned into the house—the last remnant of the once +joyous party assembled at the Heronry. + +What a hard thing was life! What a cruel thing was fate, that they could +not all be left as they were! Their happiness did no harm to any +one—nay, good to many—yet it was inexorably scattered to the winds for +ever. So thought the Curate; and so felt Rosa, though perhaps her +feelings did not shape themselves into thoughts. + +But there was no time just then to indulge their grief. Scarcely had the +carriage departed, when its place was taken by a vehicle of altogether +different description. A donkey-cart, destined to convey away Jennifer’s +chattels, and driven by a small boy, drew up at the gate, producing a +kind of practical anti-climax. Then Jennifer, attired in bonnet and +shawl, entered, and announced, in an austere and steady voice, that she +was ready to hand over her keys of office to the still weeping Rosa. + +“Now, Miss,” said Jennifer sharply, “if you could make it convenient to +come at once, I should be obliged.” + +“Go with Mrs Greene, my child,” said the Curate. When Jennifer found she +had failed in her grand design on the Curate, and must quit the +parsonage, she did not continue to affect regret at her departure; and +having easily and at once secured the coveted post at Monkstone, through +the influence of Mr Randy, she felt the change was likely to be for the +better. She might, therefore, have been expected to quit her present +abode, if with some natural regret, yet at perfect peace and charity +with all the household. Jennifer’s disposition did not, however, admit +of this. She felt enraged at the Curate because of the failure of her +design upon him, and resolved to be of as little use as possible in the +last moments of her expiring authority. “He’ll be wishing me back again +before a week’s over his head,” said Jennifer to herself, with infinite +satisfaction. + +In vain Rosa protested against being dragged into every corner of the +house, and having every bit of household property set before her eyes. +In vain she assured Mrs Greene that both her brother and herself were +perfectly satisfied of the correctness of everything. “’Twas a +satisfaction to herself,” Jennifer said, “to show everything;” and it +really was, for the extreme bewilderment and ignorance of Rosa on all +points of housekeeping afforded Jennifer the keenest gratification. The +Heronry, where Rosa’s chief business had been to amuse herself, was a +very bad school to learn anything of the sort. + +Accordingly, Jennifer did not spare her the enumeration of a single +kitchen implement, pot of jam, nor article of linen. + +“The bed and table linen’s all in this press,” said Jennifer, opening a +large one of walnut wood in the spare bedroom. + +“These are the sheets, I suppose, Mrs Greene,” Rosa remarked, wishing to +show an interest in the matter. + +“Bless you, they’re the tablecloths!” returned Jennifer, with a glance +of disdain. + +“Oh, to be sure! And these are towels?” resumed Rosa. + +“Napkins,” said Jennifer, with calm superiority. “Mr Young’s shirts, and +collars, and bands, and neckcloths, is all in these two drawers. Do you +understand much about clear-starching, Miss?” + +“N—n—no; I am afraid not much,” said Rosa. + +“Ah, ’twould be just as well you should, perhaps, because the +washerwoman requires a deal of looking after. She can be careless and +impudent, too, when she dares, especially when she’s in drink. She never +ventured upon any tricks with _me_, though.” + +The thought of this terrible washerwoman made Rosa tremble, while +Jennifer secretly exulted in the thought of seeing the Curate in limp +collars and a crumpled shirt. + +“There,” said the ex-housekeeper, locking up the press, and handing the +key to Rosa; “I advise you, Miss, to take out everything that’s wanted +yourself. The girl’s hands is generally dirty, and, besides, in taking +out one thing she drags all the rest out upon the floor. Oh, she’s a +nice one, that girl!—the work I’ve had to manage her! Well, Miss, I hope +you’ll keep an eye upon her, that’s all.” + +Having thus rendered Rosa as uncomfortable as possible at the prospect +before her, Jennifer at length prepared to depart. Opening the door of +the sitting-room, she said to the Curate, “The young lady’s seen +everything, and is quite satisfied. Well, good-bye, and wishing you +well, sir.” But the benediction was quite contradicted by the ferocity +of her look and tone. + +“Good-bye, good-bye, my good Mrs Greene,” said the Curate, who could not +help regarding Jennifer as a martyr. “I wish you all success and +happiness; I hope you won’t fret too much after the parsonage, Mrs +Greene.” + +“Ho, no,” said Jennifer, with an ironical little laugh; “it’s not +likely.” + +“I’m heartily glad of that,” said the Curate, who would not have +detected irony even in Dean Swift; “and I hope you’ll soon get another +and as good a place.” + +“I’ve got one,” said Jennifer, “as good a one as ever I could wish.” + +“Indeed! that is fortunate,” said the Curate; “and when do you go to it +then?” + +“I’m going now,” said Jennifer. “Ho, bless you! as soon as ’twas known I +was going to leave this, I had more offers than enough. I took +Monkstone,” said Jennifer, “being ’twas near my friends in the village. +Wishing you good-bye, sir,”—here she dropt a curtsey, and closed the +door. The boy had already conveyed her trunks and bandboxes to the +donkey-cart. Jennifer marched past the window (from whence the Curate +was watching this exodus) in austere majesty, and never deigned to turn +her head. Then she, the boy, the donkey-cart, and the bandboxes, all +went in procession down the road, leaving Rosa sole superintendant of +the Curate’s household. + + + CHAPTER XLI. + +The friendship which Bruce at this time conceived for Josiah was +uncommonly warm and sudden. Though always well disposed towards the +worthy Curate, he had not, while Rosa was living at the Heronry, taken +much pains to seek his society, but he now became of a sudden a frequent +visitor to the Parsonage. He showed great interest in flowers, though he +hardly knew a dahlia from a polyanthus; he listened to details of parish +matters with an attention quite wonderful, considering how little taste +he had that way; and he became enamoured of those old English authors +who were Josiah’s especial favourites. Finding these manifold pretences +insufficient to account for the frequency of his visits, he hit upon a +project for rendering them quite plausible. He insisted on subscribing +fifty pounds towards a school-house that was to be built in the village +under the Curate’s auspices; and when Josiah protested against this +liberality as indiscreet and uncalled for, he hinted that it was not +altogether disinterested—that his classical knowledge was getting +rusty—that he perceived Josiah to be often unoccupied for an hour or two +of a morning—and proposed they should read some Latin together. + +The Curate liked the project much; it would divert his thoughts from +painful subjects—his own classics wanted rubbing up—he had a great +regard for Bruce, whose openness, vivacity, and good-nature had quite +won his heart, and the readings commenced forthwith. + +They were carried on upon a plan which, however agreeable to the master +and his disciple, was scarcely calculated to answer the proposed end. +Bruce and Josiah would sit down together with their Horace, or their +Virgil, or their Terence before them, and for a time would read away +with tolerable diligence. Presently Rosa, coming into the room from some +household avocation, would trip across it softly, not to disturb +them—get what she was in quest of, perhaps a cookery-book, and go off in +the same silent fashion, with a nod and a smile at Bruce. At this stage +of the lesson the student’s attention would begin to waver; he would +look a good deal oftener at the door than upon his page. Perhaps shortly +after Rosa would re-enter, to request Josiah to get from the garden some +celery, parsnip, or other winter vegetable, of which she stood in need +for culinary purposes. “Why didn’t you ask me before, when I was in the +garden, my child?” the Curate would say, which, indeed, she might very +well have done; and Josiah, rising with a sigh to comply with her +request, would be forcibly reseated by Bruce, who would desire him to +try again at that crabbed bit of Latinity, while _he_ went to get what +Miss Rosa wanted. Whereupon he and Rosa would repair to the garden +together, she pointing out what she wanted, while Bruce supplied her +with it; and the Curate, after looking dreamily about for their +re-entrance, would forget them altogether, plunging either into a +reverie or into a book. + +Sometimes Bruce found the Curate absent on some clerical or parochial +errand, and on these occasions he thought no apology necessary for his +stay, nor did Rosa expect one. If she was too busy to talk to him in the +study, he would repair to the kitchen, and even take a share in the +culinary mysteries to which that region is sacred, though his presence +did not perhaps, on the whole, contribute to the excellence of the +cookery. I have always suspected that King Alfred, when he let the cakes +burn, was making love to the herdsman’s wife, and that the idea of her +scolding him for negligence was devised to conceal her share in the +delinquency. + +Mr Oates, seeing the state of affairs between them, grew quite morose, +and would hardly speak to Bruce at breakfast-time. He addicted himself +to the society of Suckling, and attempted to divert his thoughts by +getting up a scratch pack of harriers, and hunting them himself; and +might be heard two or three times a-week in the woods about Doddington, +attended by the fast spirits of the place, hallooing, and pouring +through the mellow horn his pensive soul. + +Rosa had none of the dignity which in Lady Lee and Orelia could always +have kept the most impassioned lovers under a certain restraint. It is +well known to be the duty of young ladies to affect total ignorance of +the fact that they are objects of adoration, and to harrow up the souls +of their admirers with affectation of indifference, at any rate until +coming to the point of proposal. Rosa, however, showed undisguised +pleasure at Bruce’s visits, and one day, when he came in with a +melancholy face, and told her the detachment was to leave Doddington +immediately, she began to cry. + +The Curate was from home that morning, and Bruce had found Rosa in the +kitchen, rolling paste for mince-pies, while the cat Pick, whom she had, +when leaving the Heronry, brought with her to the Parsonage, sat on the +table, watching the process, and occasionally putting out his paw to +arrest the motion of the rolling-pin. The smile with which she looked up +at Bruce’s entrance turned to a look of sympathetic sadness, as she +perceived his sorrowful aspect. He stood by her at the end of the table, +and told her the news which had come that morning. + +“You see what a life ours is,” said Bruce, trying to smile; “here +to-day, gone to-morrow. And when we were going to spend such a pleasant +winter too!” + +“And won’t you be here at Christmas?” said Rosa; “and won’t you have any +of the mince-pies after all? And is there to be an end of our rides, and +walks, and evening readings?” + +“I’m afraid so,” said Bruce, shaking his head. “The troop that relieves +us will be here to-morrow week—though, in my opinion,” he added, with a +faint attempt at pleasantry, “the best way to relieve us would be to let +us alone.” + +“And won’t you be coming back?” asked Rosa, with sorrow shining moistly +in her blue eyes. + +“I fear not,” said Bruce, “though, to be sure, it might be managed. But +you won’t wish that when you’ve made acquaintance with our successors. +The new-comers will take the place of your old friends, and you’ll +forget us—won’t you, Miss Rosa?” + +This highly sincere speech was too much for Rosa. “No—oh, no—ne—never!” +sobbed she, sinking on a chair, and burying her face on her plump arms +as they lay folded on the table. + +Bruce had certainly supposed she would be sorry to hear he was going, +but this display of sympathy surpassed his expectations. He stooped down +over her—he whispered that nothing should prevent him from coming +back—he also mentioned that she was “a dear little thing,” and spying a +little white space amid her hair, between her ear and her cheek, and the +whispering having brought his lips into that neighbourhood, he thought +he would kiss it, and did so. Rosa wept on, which distressed the humane +young man so much, that, after begging her, in vain, to look up and be +comforted, he managed to insinuate his hand between her cheek and her +arms, and to turn her face, using the chin as a handle, gently towards +him. A flushed, tearful, glistening face it was; and really, considering +the temptation and proximity, one can’t altogether blame him for kissing +it, which he did both on the eyes and lips; and then, turning it so that +his left cheek rested against hers, with only the tresses between, as he +whispered in her left ear, while her glistening eyes appeared over his +shoulder, he did his best to pacify her. And so absorbed was he in +whispering, and she in listening, that the cat Pick, advancing along the +flat paste (from which he had only been kept before by the terror of the +rolling-pin), and leaving his foot-marks on the soft substance, +proceeded, with the utmost effrontery, to lick up, under their very +noses, the little dabs of butter dotted thereon. He made a good deal of +noise in doing so; but as Bruce, between the whispers, made a noise not +altogether dissimilar (for there were constantly fresh tears requiring +to be attended to), Pick finished the butter with perfect impunity, and +sat up in the middle of the paste, much about the same time that Rosa +pushed Bruce gently away, and removed the last moisture from her eyes +with her apron. + +The two having, by this time, come to an understanding, Bruce suggested +that he would write to his father, who, he assured her, was a splendid +old fellow, and who would, no doubt, enter into the spirit of the thing +immediately, and give his consent like a trump. + +Accordingly, he fetched pen, ink, and paper from the study, and sitting +at one end of the kitchen-table, while Rosa rolled fresh paste at the +other, he indited a very eloquent and enthusiastic epistle to his +parent, and having folded and directed it to “The Very Rev. the Dean of +Trumpington,” put it with great confidence in his pocket. + +After this their conversation took a more cheerful turn, and Rosa worked +so diligently at her task that the mince-pies were made, after a receipt +which Bruce read out to her from a cookery-book, and were ready for +dinner that very day, and Bruce stayed to eat them. + +That splendid old fellow the Dean of Trumpington got the letter in due +time. It was brought in after dinner by his butler when he was chatting, +in a pleasant digestive sort of way, with a couple of old Canons over a +bottle of port. He put on his spectacles to peruse it, and as his wife +was in the room, and the Canons old friends and admirers of Harry, he +proceeded to read it aloud, and had got pretty well into the matter +before he discovered its interesting nature. “Why, bless my soul!” +interpolated the Reverend Doctor Bruce, in the middle of a warm passage, +“the boy’s fallen in love!” + +“My dearest Harry!” exclaimed Mrs Bruce; and then eagerly added, “go on, +love!” + +While the reading proceeded, one old Canon, who was married and had a +large family, looked fiercely at his glass of port, as he held it +between him and the light, and cried “hum!” or “ha!” at the most +touching passages; while the other, who was a bachelor, rubbed his hands +as he listened, and chuckled aloud. + +“Her brother, Mr Young, is a member of your own profession,” read the +Dean over again slowly. “Sillery” (to the bachelor Canon), “oblige me by +touching the bell. Bring the Clergy List,” said the Dean to the butler, +when the latter entered. + +“Y,” read the Dean, running his finger down the list, when he got +it—“Yorke—Youatt—Young—here you are: Young, George, Vicar of Feathernest +(is that him, I wonder? good living Feathernest)—Young, Henry, +Prebendary of Durham—Young, Josiah, Curate of Lanscote—that must be the +man,” said the Dean, referring to the letter; “he dates from Lanscote, +near Doddington.” + +“There was a Young at Oxford with me,” said Dr Macvino, the married +Canon, in a deep, oily, sententious voice. “He left college on coming +into six thousand a-year. He might have a daughter,” said the Canon, +looking round as he propounded the theory. “And,” added the Canon, “he +might also have a son in the Church. He was a tall fellow, who once +pulled the stroke oar in a match, as I remember—he gave remarkably good +breakfasts.” + +“Dear boy!” said Mrs Bruce, apostrophising Harry, “I’m certain he +wouldn’t make other than a charming choice. I’m certain she’s a sweet +girl.” + +“Harry knows what’s what,” said the Dean; “I’ve confidence in that boy.” + +“Plenty of good sense,” said the bachelor Canon. + +“Good stuff,” said Dr Macvino, who, sipping his wine before he gave the +opinion, left it doubtful whether he was praising Bruce junior or the +port. + +“Harry’s got something here,” said the Dean, pointing to his forehead. +“He’s almost thrown away in his present profession. He ought to have +come into the Church.” + +“Decidedly he ought,” said Dr Macvino, who thought himself an example to +teach other clever fellows how to choose a profession. + +“He’s the most sensible darling!” said Mrs Bruce; “and I, too, was sorry +that he hadn’t chosen a learned profession, till I saw him in his +uniform. His mustache promised to be beautiful” (there had been perhaps +four hairs in it when she last saw him,) “and ’tis very becoming.” + +“Suits him to a hair,” said the bachelor Canon, who was a wag in a mild +way. + +“The boy’s letter is a little high-flown,” said the Dean, “but that was +to be expected, perhaps. I remember describing Mrs Bruce there to my +family in such terms, that, when I brought her home, they were rather +disappointed at finding her without wings. But I’ve no doubt the young +lady is a most proper person.” + +“A young man like my Harry ought to get a wife with twenty thousand +pounds any day,” said his mother. + +“There were two things, I remember,” said Dr Bruce, “that Harry was very +fastidious about in women—dress and manner: I venture to prophecy that +our future daughter-in-law is irreproachable in both.” + +“A tall girl, I suspect,” said Mrs Bruce. + +“Tall, and with a good deal of the air noble—perhaps a little proud,” +the Doctor went on. + +“But not disagreeably so,” said Mrs Bruce. + +“Certainly not,” said the Doctor. “A hauteur of manner merely. I like to +see a woman keep up her dignity.” + +“I wish he had said something about her fortune,” said Mrs Bruce. + +“So do I,” said the Doctor, “and I think I’ll go down to Doddington +to-morrow, and see what he’s about. I’m rather in want of change of +air.” And the two canons drank success to his journey in another bottle +of port. + +Accordingly, the next day the Doctor went down to Doddington, three +counties off, and not finding Harry at his lodgings, got a conveyance +and a man to take him over to Lanscote. Bruce was there of course—he had +rushed away from the parade that morning, and, without changing his +dress, galloped to Lanscote at a tremendous pace. He was not sorry to +find the Curate absent, and, going clanking into the kitchen in his +spurs, found Rosa there with a great pinafore on, making a tart. + +For about ten minutes after his arrival the manufacture of the tart +proceeded but slowly; and Rosa, to keep him out of her way, begged him +to superintend the re-boiling of some preserves, which Jennifer’s +economy had left to spoil in their jars. “You’ve nothing to do,” said +she, “but to sit still before the fire, and skim the pan from time to +time with this spoon; and I’ll get you something to keep your uniform +clean, while you’re doing it.” So Rosa went and got a small table-cloth, +and causing him to seat himself in the desired position in front of the +fire, she pinned it round his neck as if he was going to be shaved—his +brass shoulder-scales sticking out rather incongruously from under the +vestment. + +“I ought to hear from my father, to-day,” said Harry, skimming away at +the pan with his spoon. + +“He won’t be angry, I hope,” said Rosa, putting a strip of paste round +the edge of her tart-dish. + +“Angry,” said Bruce, “not he. If he was, I should just show you to him, +and if he were the most peppery old man in existence, he’d come to the +down charge directly, like a well-bred pointer—just as the lion did +before Una. He’d love you directly—I’m certain he would—he must, you +know—he couldn’t help himself.” + +“I’m sure I shall love _him_,” said Rosa, smiling at Bruce as she took +the spoon from him in order to taste the jam, and see how it was getting +on. + +“Of course you will,” said Harry. “As I said before, he’s a splendid old +fellow.” + +At this moment a step was heard on the gravel in front of the house, +followed by a tapping at the door of the porch, which was open. + +“Come in!” cried Bruce. “Come in, can’t you!” he repeated, as the +tapping was renewed. “I _can’t_ go to the door in this way,” he said to +Rosa, looking down at his table-cloth. + +“It’s only the butcher, or Josiah’s clerk, or some of those people,” +said Rosa; “come in, if you please.” + +At this the step advanced along the passage, and came to the kitchen +door. Bruce, skimming away at his pan, didn’t turn round till he heard a +voice he knew exclaim behind him, “God bless my soul!” The spoon fell +into the brass pan, and disappeared in the seething fruit. + +“Why, in heaven’s name,” said the Doctor, “what is the boy about?” + +The boy in question, standing up in great confusion to the height of six +feet, with the table-cloth descending like a large cloud about his +person, hiding all of it except his military-looking arms and legs, did +not make any reply. Rosa, when she tasted the jam, had left some on her +lips, and somehow a splash of it had got transferred to Bruce’s face. + +“What prank is this, sir?” asked the Dean sternly. “Who is this person?” +pointing his thick yellow cane at Rosa. “Is it the cook or the +dairymaid?” + +“That, sir,” said Bruce, coming to Rosa’s rescue, “is Miss Young—the +lady I wrote to you about.” + +“Oh, indeed!” said the Doctor, who had not found the answers to the +inquiries he made in Doddington as to the worldly condition of the house +of Young at all to his mind, and who, at the sight of the Parsonage, had +been more struck with its diminutiveness than its picturesqueness. +“You’re a pretty fellow! Don’t you think you’re a pretty fellow? Answer +me, puppy!” + +“I’m not doing any harm, sir,” said Bruce, his handsome face looking +very red over the table-cloth, which he struggled to unpin. + +“Not doing any harm, sir!” sung the Dean after him, through his nose. +“Are you making an ass of yourself, sir, do you think? Come, sir, I’m +waiting for ye. Come along with me, sir.” + +Bruce having got rid of the table-cloth, went up to console Rosa, who +was now sobbing in a chair. + +“Are ye coming, sir?” shouted the Dean from the door; and Bruce, with a +last whisper of comfort, went to join his parent, who, lifting his +shovel-hat, said, “Ma’am, I wish you a very good morning!” As they went +through the passage, Rosa heard the Doctor say something about “What a +shock to your poor mother!” + +When Josiah returned, he found Rosa weeping by the kitchen fire, now +sunk to embers, the jam reduced to a sort of dark concrete, and the tart +still in an elemental state. + +“Harry’s papa has been here,” sobbed Rosa; “and he’s been so angry; and +he’s carried Harry away, and I shall ne—never—see him—any mo—re.” + +The Dean kept such strict watch over his son while the troop remained at +Doddington, lecturing him all the time, that he never got the smallest +glimpse of Rosa before quitting the place, though he managed to write +her some tender and consoling letters. His only other consolation was in +confiding his grief to Mr Titcherly, the old antiquary. They had become +intimate and fond of one another—“a pair of friends, though he was +young, and Titcherly seventy-two.” Bruce had sympathised with the old +gentleman’s pursuits, and aided them—he had, moreover, made drawings +illustrative of the great work on the antiquities of Doddington, which +were now being engraved for a second edition; and when the troop left +the town, nobody missed him more, nor thought more kindly of him, next +to Rosa, than Mr Titcherly. + +Bruce had nourished in his secret heart an intention of getting leave +when they got to headquarters, and coming back to see Rosa. This was +defeated by the vigilance of his parent, who, suspecting the design, +made it a particular request to the Colonel that he would allow his son +no leave of absence, hinting at an indiscreet attachment; and the +Colonel, in the most friendly way, promised to comply with the Dean’s +wishes. Afterwards the Dean went home, and told his wife (he being a +pious man, and familiar with the ways of Providence) that he considered +the moving of the detachment from Doddington in the light of a special +interference. + + + CHAPTER XLII. + +For my own private choice, I don’t know whether I should have preferred +to live at Larches or the Heronry. People who like aristocratic-looking +houses of imposing size and respectable age would have preferred the +latter. But there are others whose ambition does not soar so high—who +would feel encumbered by space which they could not occupy, and by +galleries and apartments to them superfluous; yet who have sometimes, +when dreaming in a verandah in the tropics, a snow-hut of some northern +region, or a narrow cabin at sea, figured to themselves a snug English +home, not too remote for the world’s affairs, nor too public for +seclusion—not so large as to be dull without visitors, nor so small as +to be unfit to accommodate them—not so grand as to invite inspection, +nor so unadorned as to disappoint it—standing, in fact, on the boundary +which divides comfort from ostentation; and such would have preferred +Larches. + +Yet, ah! that air from Queen Anne’s time that breathed about the +Heronry—that library, where Samuel Johnson might have devoured books in +his boyhood—the trim gardens, where Pope might have sat in fine weather, +polishing his mellifluous lines—the gateway and porticoes that Vanbrugh +might have regarded with paternal complacency, as hooped dames and +bewigged cavaliers passed underneath—all these were pleasant to the eye +and mind that love the picturesque and antique. + +Yet even these advantages would not weigh in the scale for a minute, +when Larches was inhabited as now. Place Lady Lee and Orelia in the +balance, and the Heronry kicks the beam. They would have made a hut in +Tipperary, or South Africa, or any other pagan and barbarous region, +more alluring than the palace of Aladdin. + +However (to describe its intrinsic advantages), Larches was a onestoried +house, too spacious to be called a cottage, which, however, it resembled +in shape, and surrounded by a deep verandah open from the eaves to the +ground. To please a caprice of Orelia’s, the slated roof had been +covered with thatch—indeed, she exercised her fancy in so many +alterations, both of the house and grounds, that the place was like a +dissolving view, and never presented the same appearance for two +consecutive seasons. The house stood on a knoll which raised it above +the surrounding garden, except at the back, where the north winds were +repelled by a small grove rising from a high bank. In the front rank of +this grove rose three tall larches that gave the place its name. The +verandah kept the sun from the apartments, but the windows, opening to +the ground, admitted plenty of sober light. Looked at from without, the +open verandah and the large space occupied by windows and doors gave an +idea of extreme airiness; while the rich heavy curtains that lined the +windows, and the glimpses of luxurious furniture behind, conveyed ample +assurance of comfort. + +Hither Orelia had brought her friend, and here she applied herself to +soothe her sorrow. Many offices would, perhaps, have suited Orelia +better than that of comforter—but her affection and warm sympathy for +Lady Lee made her discharge it with right good-will. + +When Hester had entered the hall, at the conclusion of their journey, +Orelia came up and kissed her. + +“We will forget now,” she said, “that you have ever been Lady Lee. We +will revive in substance, as well as in idea, the old times when you +were Hester Broome at the parsonage; and we will see if there is not yet +in store for you as bright a future as ever you dreamt of in your +imaginative days.” + +A thin elderly person, holding a handkerchief to her face to keep off +the draught, was hovering about an inner door of the lobby as they +entered. This was Miss Priscilla Winter, the lady who did propriety in +Orelia’s establishment, and managed the minor details thereof. She had +lived with Orelia’s mother as a companion, when the young lady herself +was a child, and had subsequently accompanied the latter to Larches. She +was a good kind of ancient nonentity, without any very decided opinions +on any subject, resembling, indeed, rather a vague idea than an absolute +person. As she always had a smile ready, and agreed with everybody, +Priscilla was sufficiently popular and endurable. At present she smiled +a welcome on one side of her face only, because the other was swelled—a +frequent symptom of the perpetual toothach which afflicted her. + +“Here’s Frisky,” said Orelia, on seeing her; “dear old Frisky!—good old +Frisk!” and she went up and greeted the old lady very cordially, as did +Lady Lee. + +Orelia called her Frisky, not because of any particular fitness in the +appellation, but, having a way of her own of altering people’s names, +she used to call her first Priskilla, then, when she wanted to coax her, +Prisky, which suggested Frisky, and the total and glaring +inappropriateness of the epithet tickled the inventor so much that it +was permanently adopted by her. The old virgin preceded them into the +drawing-room, where a comfortable fire was blazing, and told them dinner +would be ready in a quarter of an hour. + +“And how are the live stock, Frisk?” + +“All well except Dick, who had a fit yesterday,” said Miss Winter, “but +he seems quite cheerful again to-day.” Dick was a bullfinch. + +“I’ll see him presently,” said Orelia, “but first I must visit Moloch.” + +“Take care, my dear Orelia,” said Priscilla; “Francis has got him +chained up—the cook says she thinks he’s going mad, for he hasn’t drank +his water to-day.” + +“Stuff!” said Orelia, marching out of the room. + +Moloch, a great yellow bloodhound, flecked with white, chained in the +yard, thundered a deep welcome as his mistress went towards him, and +upset his kennel in his eagerness to jump upon her. She unstrapped his +collar, and he preceded her backwards in a series of curvets to the +drawing-room, yelping joyfully, and nearly upsetting Priscilla, whom +Orelia found occupied in settling Lady Lee near the fire, that she might +be warm before taking off her things; for the old lady was a great hand +at coddling people, if permitted. + +“Hester looks pale, poor dear,” said Priscilla, with a heart-rending +sadness of tone and aspect—“ah, well, she’s had her trials and”— + +“Now, I’ll tell you what it is, Frisk,” interrupted Orelia, looking +sternly at the old lady, “I didn’t bring her here to be made dismal, and +if ever I hear you saying anything of a doleful character, I’ll leave a +chink of your bedroom window open at night, and give you a stiff neck.—I +will, as sure as your name’s Frisky.” And this speech at once produced +the desired effect; the venerable spinster caught her cue with alacrity, +and the unswelled side of her face at once assumed an expression of +great cheerfulness. + +Dinner was presently announced. “I’m afraid the dining-room will be +chilly,” mumbled Priscilla, “and this terrible face of mine—would you +mind it, my dear, if I sat at dinner in my bonnet?” + +“Not in the least, my tender Frisk,” quoth Orelia; “and pray bring your +umbrella and pattens also.” + + +A few days after their arrival, they went down to the parsonage where +Hester had formerly lived with her father. Orelia was curious to see +what effect the memories attached to the place would have upon her +ladyship. She saw her grow flushed and excited as they passed the +familiar cottages, and trees, and fields along the road. She saw her +excitement increase as they came in sight of the parsonage. A glimpse of +it was afforded from the road, as it stood at the end of a lane, and +looked down upon a lawn dotted with dwarf firs. That glimpse showed it +little changed; but as they entered the swinging gate, opening on the +gravel path that curved round to the front of the house, the place +seemed to Hester to have dwindled. Perhaps the spacious proportions of +the Heronry dwarfed the parsonage by contrast—perhaps her remembrance +had flattered the scene—perhaps it had lost its interest together with +its former inhabitants—for, her father having died soon after her +marriage, a new clergyman now lived there, and neither he nor his wife +were likely to renew much of the romantic atmosphere of the spot—at any +rate, Hester’s associations vanished rapidly. The furniture was all so +different: there was a new door opened in the sitting-room, which might +be a convenience, but was to her an impertinence—her bedroom, the +chamber of her maiden dreams (ah, sacrilege!) was now a nursery. The +walls where the echoes of Hester’s voice, as she read aloud, or sung, or +said her prayers, ought yet to have lingered, resounded to the squalls +of the latest baby published by the prolific clergyman’s wife, and the +clamour of its small seniors. A cradle had taken the place of her +bookcase; and her bed, whose white curtains had once enclosed the poetic +dreams and bright fancies of the virgin Hester—the very altar-piece, as +it were—was occupied by a rocking-horse with its head knocked off. +Scarcely worse the desecration, when the French stabled their chargers +in the cathedrals of Spain. + +She descended to the porch, and paused there, trying to recall her +former self as she had sat in its shadow, reading, working, dreaming, +fancying that the world was paradise. She wondered what could have made +her fancy so; it had, indeed, been blissful ignorance, but very silly, +nevertheless: her eyes were open now, and she was quite sure—yes, +quite—she should never see things again surrounded by such delusive +splendour. The Hester of eighteen had been quite a different person from +the Hester of twenty-five. And so sad seemed to be the train of thoughts +thus aroused, and bringing with it so many silent tears, that Orelia was +sorry she had carried her well-intended visit to the parsonage into +execution. She mentioned it in a letter to Rosa; and here, in common +type, wherein it loses all the character it gained in the original, from +that bold yet feminine hand, with its long upstrokes and downstrokes, +and its audacious dashes, we will insert Orelia’s letter. + +“Dearest Rosalinda,” (it said,) “what is there about you, do you +suppose, that you should be so constantly in my thoughts as you are, to +the utter exclusion, of course, of all kinds of rational contemplation? +For how can any serious or important idea be expected to remain in +company with that of a little laughing, redfaced thing? In vain I banish +the pert image; it comes back with all the annoying and saucy +pertinacity of the original, till I actually catch myself addressing it; +and my first impulse, on waking of a morning, always is to pull you out +of bed. + +“People sometimes say of their deceased relations (especially if they +have left them any money), that it would be wrong to wish them back to +this scene of trial. And I grow somewhat resigned to your absence, when +I think that you are probably much happier where you are. For Hester and +I are very dismal, Rosey—not a bit better than we were during the last +sad weeks at the Heronry. She grows paler, Rosetta—paler and thinner +every day. And I don’t think ’tis owing to any failure of mine in +carrying out our plan for her benefit. I have, in every possible way, +closed up the avenues to sad recollections. I have avoided all allusions +to her married life, as if it had been wiped out of my memory with a +great wet sponge. I have nearly choked myself by arresting, on the brink +of utterance, observations that might have awakened in her mind some +train of thought ending in a sigh. I have endeavoured to interest her in +her old occupations here, and to get her to resume the subjects of +conversation and of fancy that used to delight her in the old times, +when she was the most enthusiastic and bright and hopeful of friends; +and I have had my labour for my pains. She wandered through my hothouses +with most annoying apathy—stood on the very spot where she and I first +saw one another, and which I expected would have had an electrical +effect on her, with an absence of recognition that quite exasperated me; +and when I wished her good night, in the very bedroom that was always +allotted to her when weather-bound at my cottage, she returned the +benediction without one allusion to the old days that have departed +apparently for ever. + +“Well, Rosetta, I persevered, nevertheless—yes, I did—I struck my great +_coup_—I took her down to the parsonage, where she was born and bred. +Long after her father’s death it stood untenanted; but a new family now +live there. I watched the effect of each familiar object that we passed +on the road; her breath now and then came a little quicker, and, at the +first distant glimpse of the house, her colour rose, and she smiled more +naturally than she has done any time these three months. ‘Now,’ said I +to myself, ‘the old Hester is going to peep out of this melancholy +mask;’ so I said, by way of assisting the metamorphosis, ‘Do you +remember anything about that stone, Hester?’ pointing to a great white +one by the side of the road. Now, by this stone hangs a tale, Rosamunda. +You must know (if I never told you) that Hester and I had once a little +quarrel; and as it’s so long ago, I don’t mind saying ’twas all my +fault. Well, we did not meet for two or three days, for Hester was hurt, +and I was sullen; but then, by a simultaneous impulse, we started to +meet and be reconciled. Hester was near this stone when she caught sight +of me, and, forgetting all cause of offence, ran towards me. In her +haste (’twould take a deal to make her run now, Rosey) she tript on the +grass at the side of the road, and fell with her head against the corner +of the stone. There she lay for a moment, stunned, and I, who had just +reached the spot, sat down on the stone, and, taking her head on my lap, +vowed, after she had opened her eyes, and assured me she was but little +hurt, that I would never again offend her. + +“She remembered it well, she said, as I stopt and pointed to the spot; +then, pressing my hand, ‘Though I am not so demonstrative now as then, +you must not think my friendship colder, dear Orelia,’ she said. This +looked all very promising, and I walked on in great spirits, awaiting +the further effect of the coming scenes. + +“The clergyman’s wife had called on us, so our visit had an excuse. The +porch looked just as it used—we entered; but there, in the identical +spot where Mr Broome used to sit and talk to us, when a pause in his +disorder let him brighten up for an hour or two, with the benignity of a +Socrates—his pale face glowing, his dim eye kindling, and his failing +voice hardly able to keep pace with his eloquent flow of thought—there +sat his successor—fat, contented, vulgar. The first words he spoke, in +tones that seemed to struggle through layers of beef and cabbage and +Yorkshire pudding, dissipated the romance that lingered for me and +Hester about the scene. And his wife! I don’t deny that the woman may +have good qualities, Rosa; but I never can forgive her that cap of +hers—nor her furniture—nor her younger sister, with her vulgar +affectation of well-bred ease—nor her mode of addressing her husband—she +called him by the initial letter of his horrible surname. + +“In vain I struggled with these prosaic influences—in vain I tried to +recall the old memories of the place—they had absolutely deserted me. I +did not look at Hester, for I should only have looked disappointment. I +did not speak to her, for I had nothing to say. But I looked at the +clergyman and his wife and sister-in-law—daggers, Rosetta—and I was +glad, when we departed, to see them reduced to a state of terrified and +silent civility. + +“So this part of the project signally failed. Hitherto we had lived +altogether by ourselves, for I did not wish to annoy her with the task +of making a parcel of new acquaintances, not likely to be particularly +interesting either to her or to me. But now I thought visitors might +rouse her from her melancholy, and I let them come.” + + +The time when Lady Lee and Orelia were most disposed to be communicative +to each other was the last hour before they went to bed. Both, after +flickering fitfully between dinner and tea, musing, looking into the +fire, sighing, &c., would brighten up into temporary effulgence, before +undergoing the extinction of sleep. + +“You are cheerful to-night, Orelia,” said Lady Lee, one night after some +guests had departed. “I am happy to see it, my dear. Come closer,” said +her ladyship, passing her arm round her friend’s waist, and drawing her +on to the sofa beside her. “I want to whisper to you. May I venture to +hope” (this in Orelia’s ear, from which she had brushed back the volume +of black hair that hid it) “that you have forgotten that little romance +of yours?” + +Orelia silently turned, and sat facing her with her black eyes, without +answering. + +“You never confided in me in that matter,” said her ladyship, still +whispering, though there was nobody but those two in the room, and the +servants had gone to bed. “I shouldn’t speak of it now, only that I +observe some symptoms occasionally which make me still doubt the +direction of your thoughts. Can I help to guide them back to +tranquillity?” + +“No, Hester,” said Orelia; “I don’t want any aid. I’ve come to a +resolution of my own accord.” + +“Tell it me,” said Lady Lee. + +“How can I tell you all?” said Orelia. “You didn’t know him. To you he +was merely what he appeared to the world—to me he was himself—the +manliest, the cleverest, the most independent, the—ah, you smile; but, +had you met him in his true position, you would have thought of him as I +do.” + +Lady Lee squeezed the hand of the somewhat indignant enthusiast. “Who so +apt as I to believe,” she said, “that when Orelia Payne admires, the +object is an elevated one? Well, dearest?” + +“Well,” said Orelia, “I dreamt at the Heronry a sort of dream—that he +would regain his position in the world, and be all you or any of my +friends could wish. He left me apparently with some such expectation; +but now I see it was fallacious.” + +“But a man could scarcely make a very great stride in the world in a +couple of months,” observed Lady Lee. + +“’Twill take years, perhaps,” said Orelia, “even if he ever succeeds; +and consider the chances against him. And, except as successful, I shall +never see him—he is prouder than a fallen angel.” Here she paused, and +pondered a little. “But,” she resumed, “I have resolved to think no more +on that subject. Yes, resolved!” (stamping with her foot, while her +colour heightened, and a tear came into her eye). “It can do no good—it +will be vain, weak, idle—it will be wasting life in unreality; therefore +it shall end”—(another little stamp). + +Lady Lee looked at her with a kind of serious half smile. “So earnest, +Orelia!—then the cause cannot be slight.” + +“It is not,” said Orelia petulantly. “I am ashamed to think how much it +has engrossed my thoughts. And yet—everything considered—so much merit +in so unfitting a position! Had he been placed where he deserves, I +should perhaps have withheld my admiration; but indignation at the way +in which fortune and the world have treated him lent it double force. +Now, Hester, I have been franker than you—for we both had our secrets; +had we not?” + +It was Lady Lee’s turn to redden and be silent. + +“Hester,” went on Orelia, “what do you think of the men who sometimes +come here? Is there one of them fit to be named with either of those to +whom we gave—I mean to whom we would have given—our hearts? Think for a +moment of the best of them—and then place their images, side by side, +with those I speak of. Don’t they dwindle?—don’t they show like wax-work +beside sculpture, with their fleeting hues of character, their feeble +melting outlines, their stupid conventionalities?” + +“You are severe, my dear,” said Lady Lee, without, however, heeding much +her own reply—for Orelia had confused her. + +“O, it scatters my patience!” said her impetuous friend. “I think less +of myself when one of them has hinted admiration. Yesterday, that worthy +noodle, Mr Straitlace—he who thinks it good to be wise, but not to be +merry, and whose expressive eyebrows proclaim all pursuits to be vanity +except his own—had the astonishing effrontery to give my hand a kind of +meaning squeeze, at taking leave, muttering something about ‘his +pleasure at recognising a congenial spirit.’ What have I done, Hester, +to deserve that?—the owl!” + +“I don’t see the congeniality, certainly,” said Lady Lee, smiling, “more +than between an owl and a—peacock, or any other majestic bird.” + +“Then there’s that baronet Sir Dudley (you seem to have an attraction +for baronets, Hester)—that well-dressed Mephistopheles, with crow’s feet +about his eyes and his heart at five and twenty, who has just cleverness +enough to find out the faulty side of everything—he had the impudence, +after looking at you as if he were judging a horse, to pronounce that +‘you had some good points,’ which from him is equivalent, I suppose, to +high praise.” + +“I hope he specified the points that struck him,” said Lady Lee, +smiling. + +“He hadn’t time,” returned Orelia. “I felt downright savage at the idea +of such a snail as that crawling on your petals. I asked him who had +told him of your merits? for that we all knew him to be slow at finding +them in anything.” + +“And what did he say?” + +“He turned to his next neighbour and merely said, ‘Shut up, by Jove!’ +Why, compared with these people, Major Tindal grows respectable; for +though he has but one side to his character, ’tis a manly and decided +one.” + +“Poor, misguided Major Tindal,” said Lady Lee; “to think that he should +have taken the trouble to come all the way here” (the Major hadn’t been +able to forbear singeing his wings again), “just to do hopeless homage +to a girl who talks of him in that way.” + +“Certainly he had better have stayed at Doddington,” said Orelia. “But, +now, Hester, tell me—could you admire, or ever be induced to love, any +of our present acquaintances, after having seen others so much +worthier?” + +“I will go farther than that,” said Lady Lee, resuming her habitual tone +of melancholy, which she had relinquished for one of assumed gaiety, +merely to cover the confusion that Orelia’s home-thrust had caused her; +“I will say that we never could have admired or loved them in any case.” + +“And yet they are not below the average of those we shall meet in our +pilgrimage,” said this severe censor; “and that brings me to a subject I +have for some time thought of. You and I can never link our lives to +people of that sort.” + +“Never,” said Lady Lee, fervently. + +“Neither will we spend them in vain regrets,” said Orelia. “In men that +would be unmanly, and in us ’twould equally be unwomanly. We will drive +out thought—we will leave it no avenue to enter—we will place a quickset +round our hearts. Some do this by openly relinquishing the world, and +taking vows; our resolutions shall be none the weaker because we only +take our vows privately, and to one another.” + +Lady Lee looked at her friend inquiringly. + +“Why should we have done with life because we have been disappointed in +one of its objects?” said Orelia. “Why should we languish or let +ourselves rust because those we prefer are withheld from us? _We_ could +not be content to go lingering and dreaming all our lives.” + +“Not content, certainly,” said Lady Lee. “But what are we to do?” + +“Make business for ourselves in the world,” said Orelia. “Be of use—turn +our energies to account. How many women younger than we quit a life of +ease without our provocation, and devote themselves to one of active +usefulness! We might be the founders of an unprofessed sisterhood. What +do you say, Hester? When shall we begin?” + +“When?” said Lady Lee. “My dear, such a thing requires thought.” + +“Say a week,” said Orelia. + +“A week!” cried Lady Lee—“a year you mean. Nuns have a noviciate.” + +“And a contemptible thing it is,” said Orelia, “that hovering between +two worlds, as it were—that lingering on the bridge, shilly shally. No, +Hester; we won’t show any such want of confidence in ourselves—we will +begin after a week’s trial. We must commence by closing up all paths to +thoughts that might unsteady us—lay aside at once poetry, romance, +music, except anthems and oratorios. We will prescribe for ourselves a +simple dress and a uniform and disciplined life. Come, are you not +anxious to begin?” + +“I _do_ almost catch a gleam of your enthusiasm,” said Hester. “To +relinquish my present life will be no privation” (with a sigh). “But we +must mature the idea before acting on it. We must not begin lightly.” + +“Lightly!” said Orelia. “I’ve been thinking of it these four days. And, +for our plan—feeding the poor—educating the ignorant—comforting the +sick—there is a field! So much for our duty towards our neighbour—for +ourselves, we will improve and occupy our minds with study, and I was +going to say meditation; but I’m not so sure whether our meditations +would be always on profitable subjects, at least not just yet. When nuns +turn out not so good as they might be, who knows what share meditation +may have had in it? We’ll act now, Hester, and put off meditation till +we grow older.” + +Now, there was something in Orelia’s proposal that was not unpleasing to +Lady Lee. To banish thought which she found so wearisome—to occupy time +that hung so heavy—to labour with an object and obtain a result—these +were what she had long desired in a dreamy sort of way, and, now that +the more energetic Orelia had struck out the path, she was ardent to +follow it. Thus the mind would be provided for; and, for the heart, why +shouldn’t she and Orelia, her chosen friend, be all in all to each +other? which last idea was, perhaps, even more brilliant than the other. + +Accordingly the noviciate commenced forthwith. They had, in Hester’s +maiden days, studied together French and Italian; they now began a +spirited attack upon the German language. Mathematics was desirable, as +it required attention, exercised the mind, and did not excite the +imagination, and they plodded away at Euclid and algebra with a +perseverance praiseworthy in an ambitious freshman, but, in them, +lamentable to behold. The piano remained unopened, the harp untouched, +except on Sunday, when they performed a piece out of Handel. Lady Lee’s +copy of _Corinne_ was put in the fire by Orelia, who had never +particularly admired the work; and, indeed, a great part of their +library underwent such a weeding as Don Quixote’s suffered at the hands +of the barber and curate. Both were dressed in mourning before for +Julius, so no great change was needed in their attire. To crown all, +they discovered, in a couple of days, some babies in the smallpox and +croup, three distressed families with the fathers out of work, and a +pair of rheumatic old women, so that their charitable resolutions were +not likely to fail for want of objects. + +It is very well known that heroines of respectability ought to be +naturally benevolent. They ought, moreover, to have a happy knack of +winning the hearts of all who experience their bounty. I would with +pleasure bestow on my heroines all the good attributes that belong to +them, but I have already said they were far from faultless, and, to say +the truth, the line they had chosen was not their forte. Lady Lee’s +fastidious taste was speedily revolted by misery, whose pathos was +impaired by selfishness or coarseness; and Orelia, after a visit to one +of the rheumatic patients, left a sovereign for the sufferer, and vowed +she would never go near that horrid old grumbler again. In fact, this +was one of the points in which they were both of them inferior to Rosa. +Their benevolence sprang from a sense of duty, and was artificial in +expression, like the conversation of one who has learnt a foreign tongue +grammatically; while Rosa’s was natural, and fluent in the happiest +idioms of goodness. + +However, they persevered, and, though they were striving against nature, +their conduct was quite natural. Women are never so enthusiastic about +their duties as when they have just been disappointed in love. Your +pretty Puritans are sure to have had an attachment blighted, and +Devotion is called in, like a Beguine, to dress the wounds made by that +rascal Cupid. + +But yet, reader, if Hester and Orelia should really persist in their +project, what a glimpse of the possible is here opened! Let imagination +hold up the curtain for a moment. + +Methinks I see Orelia, aged say about thirty-five; severe of aspect, and +with what novelists call “the traces of former beauty,” though the arch +of the nose has strengthened to Roman firmness, the mouth is quite stern +in its decision, and the fire of the eyes has some fierceness in its +sparkle. Irreproachable, but not amicable—unsparing to the indiscretion +of others, and having none of her own—rigid in the performance of +duties, as well as in exacting them—I see her, in fact, become that +formidable being, an exemplary woman, and I should like to see anybody +make love to her now. + +Lady Lee, too, now getting on for forty, has changed from what we knew +her. She is not called, like Orelia, an exemplary woman, but is +stigmatised by the equally opprobrious epithet, a superior person. Her +eyes, dimmed with long perusing of good wearisome books through a veil +of tears, are still beautiful in their melancholy, but the rest of her +charms have withered. She does not discharge her duties with the +unfailing spirit of the more energetic Orelia, but requires a new weary +effort for the performance of each; and when the old obstinate question +recurs of what her business in the world may be, she silences it by a +contemplation of the indurated virtues of her friend, which she nerves +herself to imitate. There are no more confidences or confessions of +weakness between herself and Orelia, but a friendship such as might have +subsisted between the Mother of the Gracchi and Mrs Fry. They are +punctual in ——, but, as Sterne says, when the idea of his captive +becomes too painful, “I cannot sustain the picture that my fancy has +drawn.” Fane—Onslow—to the rescue! + + + + + THE MARQUIS DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.[25] + + + FRANCE IN 1853. + +The name of Larochejaquelein is not an obscure one. It was once familiar +to the world. It was known and venerated wherever stainless honour, +fidelity proof against all temptations and suffering, chivalrous valour, +and patient courage amid dangers that do not try the nerves less that +they want the excitement which sustains the soldier on the battle-field, +were held in reverence. The two brothers who covered that name with +glory of the purest kind were noble specimens of the old chivalry of +France, when chivalry had well-nigh passed away; and the chronicler of +their romantic gallantry and their heroic death was the gentle female +who bore their name, and who bore it high, and who shared in their +sufferings, their triumphs, and their defeats. We know of few +compositions more interesting than the narrative of the Marchioness de +Larochejaquelein, who, we are happy to find, still survives, her form +bowed by age, but her heart as true as when, in early youth and beauty, +she traversed on foot the ravines of the Bocage, or forded the canals of +the Marais, and witnessed the sanguinary wars waged by the insurgents of +La Vendée during the wildest period of the French Republic. It is +curious that the most attractive records of the great revolutions which +convulsed the two kingdoms of England and France, at periods so distant +from each other, should respectively be the production of a female pen. +The memoirs of Mrs Hutchinson and the narrative of Madame de +Larochejaquelein are companions fit to be placed side by side with each +other; and though the character of the two works is different, the +interest they excite is identical. They both possess all the fascination +of romance, but they are valuable in a degree which few romances can +pretend to. It has been remarked, that until their publication the world +was strangely in error on many of the important events to which they +relate, and that they have been singularly useful in diminishing a great +deal of the prejudice, and in dissipating the ignorance which had +existed, particularly with reference to some of the principal actors in +these terrible scenes. The character of the English heroine is shadowed +forth in her history; it is more unbending, more masculine, more stern, +perhaps, and commands admiration which the mind cannot refuse. But the +heart is led away by the tenderness of the Frenchwoman; and her pathetic +touches, while they add to the interest of her story, impart to it the +impress of truth. + +The nobleman who has just published a defence of his own political +career during the eventful changes which France has again witnessed, is +the son of that lady by a second marriage. His lineage is an ancient and +honourable one. Sprung from the old house of Vergier de +Larochejaquelein, he counts among his ancestors a Crusader whose arms +form one of the many ornaments of the rich gallery of Versailles; two +warriors who fell on the hard-fought field of Pavia, when “all was lost +except honour;” a brother in arms and tent-companion of Henry IV., who +was left “with his back to the field and his feet to the foe” on the +plains of Arques; a _mestre-de-camp_, who met his death while in the act +of boarding a pirate off St Domingo. His uncle was the general-in-chief +in the Vendean army, and it was this gallant gentleman, on whose history +Froissart would have loved to linger, who spoke this last address to his +army, which is still remembered by the peasants of the Morbihan—“If I +advance, follow me; if I retreat, slay me; if I fall, avenge me!” +Another of this heroic family was a dashing officer of carabineers under +the Empire; and on the battle-field of the Moskowa he maintained the old +valour of the house of Larochejaquelein. Count Louis, the father of the +present Marquis, refused to serve under Napoleon. When the flight from +Elba roused Europe again from its brief tranquillity, the peasant +soldiers of La Vendée gathered once more round the white banner of their +chief. The insurrection was, however, soon put down, and +Larochejaquelein, while in the act of leading on his men against the +Imperial troops, fell with a bullet in his heart. This is an ancestry of +which any man may be proud. + +The present Marquis is the son of the Royalist chief of the Hundred +Days, who had married the widow of his old companion in arms, the +Marquis de Lescure. He was born in 1804, and at the early age of eleven +was created a peer of France, under what is called the Second +Restoration. He entered the military service in 1821, joined the army +under the Duke d’Angoulême in 1823, and made the campaign of Spain. He +was captain in the horse grenadiers of the Royal Guard in 1828, and, +inheriting the military ardour which characterised his family, +petitioned the king to be allowed to serve in the Greek war of +independence, but was refused. He was permitted, however, to join the +Russian army as a simple volunteer in the campaign of the Balkan against +the Turks, “having nothing better to do,” as he himself said on one +occasion in the Chamber of Deputies. Though a peer of France, he had not +taken his seat in the Upper House when the revolution of 1830 broke out; +and refusing to accept place, favour, or honours at the hands of the +revolutionary government of July, he resigned his functions as peer of +France. Endowed with remarkable activity of mind, he devoted himself for +some time, and with much energy, to industrial pursuits, and gave up +politics till 1842, when he was named a member of the Chamber of +Deputies by the electoral college of Ploermel, in the Morbihan. During +his parliamentary career he did not remain idle. He took a prominent +part in most of the stormy discussions of the time: the various projects +of replies to the addresses from the throne, the conscription reform +law, prison reform, railroad bills, electoral reform, liberty of +instruction, all found in him a ready, fluent, and vigorous, if not an +eloquent debater. On all occasions he spoke out his mind frankly and +boldly; and though on many occasions in opposition to his own party, as +well as to the government, it is said that he never had a personal enemy +in the Chamber. His conduct, when the paltry attempt was made by the +servile adherents of the new régime to affix infamy on the Royalists who +paid their homage to the descendant of their former master, on the +occasion of the Count de Chambord’s visit to London in 1842, is beyond +all praise. He rejected, with scornful indignation, the stigma attempted +to be fixed on him by the Orleanists, who did not feel the sentiment of +honour, and were incapable of appreciating it in others. He at once +resigned his seat as deputy, and appealed from the outrage offered him +by the Philippists to the judgment of the electors. The electors +answered the appeal, and Ploermel sent him back to the Chamber, where he +persevered in the same independent course. When the base arts of +corruption employed by the government of July were to be dragged to the +light of day, Larochejaquelein was never silent. “A corrupting and +degrading selfishness pervades all parts of society,” he said, in the +discussion of the budget in 1845. “I have, in common with the rest of +the nation, given up all illusions about the constitutional forms of the +state, and I have no longer any faith in their independence. On all +sides, in all places, I behold the triumph of the base over the +generous, of evil over good; and each day that passes by brings us +nearer to a tremendous crisis—the future is indeed dark and +threatening!” These prophetic words were destined to be soon +realised—sooner, perhaps, than the speaker himself imagined. + +We have said that M. de Larochejaquelein was a frequent and a forcible +speaker on important occasions. Without much claim to what is termed +oratory, his language is fluent and full of energy; and he has scarcely +uttered a few sentences, when you feel that he is a man of profound +convictions—and this we hold to be a great, as it is a rare, merit in +times like the present. His portly presence, open brow, and flowing +hair—his quick, earnest, and impassioned gesticulation, remind you of +the tribune of revolutionary days. The haughty movement of his head, and +the scornful expression of his eye, when repelling some unjust +accusation, give him an appearance of pride, which certainly is not +characteristic of him, for in private life no one can be gentler or more +unaffected. You see before you the gentleman of the old _souche_, not +the marquis of the _salon_, or that trifling race which the wit of +Molière has perpetuated. Had the Marquis de Larochejaquelein not been +born an aristocrat, he would have been a tribune of the people. Whatever +be his merits or demerits as a speaker or a politician, he possesses, at +all events, the courage, the audacity of his opinions. He was devoted to +the Bourbons of the elder branch (and they have not always paid his +devotedness with gratitude), not for interest, but for honour, from +family traditions; and were not the days of chivalry all but extinct in +what was once a nation of cavaliers, and were men again to combat for +dynasties in France, we are inclined to think that he would be among the +first to place his lance in rest, as his ancestors did before him; and +yet, if we are to judge from recent events, neither the hereditary +devotedness of his family to the cause which was so often sealed with +their blood, nor the sacrifices (and we are informed they are not few) +which he himself has made to it, have won him the favour of the court of +Frohsdorf. On the contrary, we believe that he has been exposed to all +the persecution that petty malignity can set at work; and we know that +attempts have, on many occasions, been made to ruin him among the +primitive peasantry of La Vendée and the Morbihan. His position with +reference to his own party became so intolerable, that he has considered +it necessary to publish, in a small volume, a review of the state of +parties in France in 1853, and which is, at the same time, a vindication +of his own conduct. + +The work is curious and instructive. It notices the events which have +recently occurred in France; and though the causes which led to that +very decided act of vigour known as the _coup-d’état_ of December 1851, +have been long since known to the public, and appreciated by impartial +men, a narrative bearing the impress of truth, and penned by one of the +actors in the drama, cannot fail to be interesting. We do not concur in +all the views of M. de Larochejaquelein, nor do we agree in all his +deductions; but we readily admit the truth of his sketch of political +parties in France previous to the month of December, of the intrigues of +the Orleanist faction, their hypocrisy and selfishness, their utter +recklessness of consequences, provided but a chance was afforded them, +no matter at what cost to the country, of recovering the power for which +they had shown themselves unfit, and of which they were deprived almost +without an effort. In all this we agree; and we confess we are not a +little pleased at finding the opinions we have already had occasion to +express on these points fully borne out by one who has so intimate a +knowledge of affairs. We believe that the French press has, with one or +two exceptions, passed over in silence the work of M. de +Larochejaquelein; and we are not much surprised at that silence. It is +some time since all political intercourse has ended between him and the +persons who compose the court of Frohsdorf. These persons, we fear, too +truly represent the extravagant opinions and the intolerant conduct of +the men who contributed by their evil counsels to the overthrow of the +legitimate monarchy. They are the same of whom it has been said, and +said truly, that they returned from their long exile, having learned +nothing and forgotten nothing; and were the Count de Chambord to be +restored to the throne of his ancestors, their policy would again lead +to its overthrow. We desire to speak with respect of the present chief +of the house of Bourbon. We admire the dignity of his bearing; the +position he has assumed with respect to the Orleans family; the proud +refusal to make any sacrifice of what he considered to be a principle, +even though that sacrifice increased the number of his partisans; the +firmness with which he maintains his superiority over those who +despoiled him—the innocent victim of base intriguers, and a successful +insurrection—of his rights. But we fear that he allows himself to be too +much influenced in certain matters by a coterie composed of persons of +antiquated notions, and who do not appear to have any conception of the +progress made in the social and political world during the last +half-century. The errors of that coterie are exposed by M. de +Larochejaquelein; and that exposure will not narrow the distance which +separates him from his party, or rather from the court of Frohsdorf. The +unpalatable truth he tells will not easily be forgiven; and the +Legitimist organs of the press have considered it more prudent to pass +them over without notice or contradiction. The organs of what is called +the _Fusion_ have been equally discreet, and with one or two exceptions +the other journals have imitated their discretion, either because they +considered his sketch not sufficiently Buonapartist to merit unqualified +praise, or too much so for censure. The object of the Marquis de +Larochejaquelein, who still professes to be a Legitimist in principle, +is to show that he has been guilty of no inconsistency in giving in his +adhesion to the imperial government, and that he has not discarded the +opinions he always professed; that he has not denied the name he bears, +nor renounced the political faith in which he was brought up, by +accepting that régime, and taking, as a member of the Senate, the oaths +of allegiance to the Emperor and the constitution. It is principally in +this respect that the interest of the book consists, and we have noticed +briefly and impartially the conduct of the writer, and that of a certain +number of his fellow-Legitimists who have, equally with himself, +comprehended the imminent danger their common country was exposed to, +and availed themselves of the only means of safety left at their +disposal. + +The offence committed by M. de Larochejaquelein, and which the more +intolerant of the Royalist party do not pardon, is not of recent date. +He was a Legitimist, it is true, but he was also attached to +constitutional government. He preferred a sovereign who inherited a +crown from his ancestors, but he was likewise the supporter of +representative institutions. But so many catastrophes—so many +revolutions had passed over France—so many governments had been +overthrown and institutions subverted, that all notions of right and +justice, as of government, were completely lost. The actors in the first +Republic denounced all monarchical forms, as not only incompatible with +human rights, but actually opposed to common sense itself—in fact, +something monstrous and unnatural. After convulsing all Europe, and +utterly changing the country where it first broke into mad violence, +that Revolution became exhausted from its very excesses; the Republic +fell into contempt; but the terror inspired by it was such, that then, +as in more recent days, people were glad to take shelter in any +government that promised security to life and property. The great object +of the Consulate, as of the Empire, was to obliterate the last traces of +a system which had cost France so dear. That régime was so great and so +dazzling that the loss of liberty was soon forgotten; and the yoke that +pressed on the nation was the less galling because it was concealed in +glory; and Frenchmen consoled themselves for not being free, because +their master was a hero. + +That brilliant meteor, after blinding the world with its splendour, +and awing it by its power, fell into darkness. The ancient line was +restored; and the Restoration in turn began by proclaiming the +imperial rule as a usurpation; and Louis XVIII., in the charter of +1814, dated his reign, not from his return to France and the fall of +Napoleon, but from the death of his nephew, the son of Louis XVI.;—as +if the imperial epoch, with all its marvellous events, had never +existed, and as if the account popularly, but erroneously, attributed +to the famous Father Loriquet, was exact, that there had been no such +government as the Republic, and that the man who was generally +believed to have ruled the French nation despotically, but not +ingloriously, for fourteen years, was in reality only Monsieur le +Marquis de Buonaparte, lieutenant-general in the service of his most +Christian Majesty. + +Next came the Revolution of July, which proclaimed that Charles X. had +forfeited his right to the crown, for himself and his heirs—who, +however, were admitted to have done nothing to merit that forfeiture—by +the manner in which he interpreted the 14th article of the charter, +which, nevertheless, authorised him “to make regulations and ordinances +necessary for the execution of the laws and the safety of the +state.”—(_Charte Constitutionnelle de 1814._) Republican writers +(_Dictionnaire Politique_, p. 216) admit that the aforesaid article left +to the king “the dangerous privilege of being the sole judge of the +necessity of the case;” though they refused to recognise that or any +other article of a charter which had been _octroyée_, or issued by royal +authority alone. The responsible advisers whom Charles X. consulted, +were of opinion that his conduct in issuing the famous ordinances was +legal. The Orleanist revolution denounced that act as a violation of the +charter, and declared that Charles X. had broken some imaginary compact +between him and his people, and had forfeited the crown. This was +admitting, to all intents and purposes, the right of armed insurrection. +The principle thus admitted by the new régime was often turned against +itself; and the right of overthrowing the government was many times +tried during the reign of Louis Philippe. Various insurrections broke +forth, which were successively put down; but had any of them succeeded, +Louis Philippe would long before 1848 have been accused, on equally just +grounds, of a violation of the new charter, and consequent forfeiture of +the crown, as his predecessor. At length _his_ turn came; and at the +very moment that most people believed the throne of July to be fixed on +the surest basis, the insurrection of February in a few hours overthrew +that which had already triumphed over so many previous dangers. Louis +Philippe rose to power on the barricades of July;—that power was laid +prostrate by the same means. He, in turn, was proclaimed a usurper of +the people’s rights, a violater of public liberty, and condemned to +execration. It is not strange, therefore, if the minds of men became +bewildered amid so many conflicting doctrines. There no longer appeared +any fixed standard by which to judge of authority. Monarchy in its +absolute form was decried by some; constitutional monarchy by others. +Monarchy under any denomination, or under any form whatever, was +denounced by many as an outrage on human reason. Some maintained that a +republican rule was hateful to the immense majority of the nation, and +that France only desired a fair opportunity to declare its will. Under +such circumstances what was to be done? The Royalists did not conceal +that they only _endured_ the Republic until an occasion offered for +re-establishing their own form of government. Each party maintained that +it, _and it alone_, represented the wants and wishes of the people; +while the unhappy people, in whose name, and on whose behalf, all this +had been done, stood by in silent dismay, and bent to the yoke which +each faction that got uppermost imposed upon it. All was confusion, +anarchy, chaos;—and the country, whose wellbeing was the pretext, +rapidly approached the brink of ruin. + +Under such circumstances, we again ask, what was to be done? The Marquis +de Larochejaquelein thought that the only way of solving the problem was +by an appeal to the very people in whose name every outrage was +successively perpetrated; and calling upon it to declare, once for all, +frankly and freely, what form of government it preferred—whether +monarchy legitimate or constitutional, or a republic. From the day he +took his seat in the Chamber of Deputies until the 2d December, when the +National Assembly was dissolved by the _coup-d’état_, such was his +constant theme. He denied the legitimacy of the Orleans monarchy of +July, and refused to recognise the right of two hundred deputies, a +portion of only one branch of the legislature, to exceed the terms of +their mission, and to bestow sovereign power on any one. He expressed +his belief that France would, if an occasion offered, return to the +government of her legitimate sovereign, and he did not conceal that such +was the motive for his appeal; but at all events he demanded that France +should be consulted, and he pledged himself to abide by the issue. By +such conduct he incurred the hatred of Legitimists and Orleanists;—of +the former, because his doctrine was inconsistent with the principle of +divine right; and of the latter, because the admission of such an appeal +vitiated, _ab initio_, the right of the sovereign whom the two hundred +deputies had, of their own sole act, given to the nation. We offer no +opinion as to whether M. de Larochejaquelein would have attained his +object had his plan been carried into effect, nor on the abstract +fitness of such an appeal; but in so complete a dissolution of authority +of every kind, and amid such a confusion of all ideas of government, it +would be difficult to suggest any other experiment whereby the right of +those who founded their claim on the will of the nation could be tested. + +The first great offence committed by M. de Larochejaquelein consisted, +as we have just seen, in his having so far deviated from the principle +of divine right, as to recommend an “appeal to the nation;”—but the +crime for which he can hope for no forgiveness from the court of +Frohsdorf, is his having recognised the imperial government, and +accepted the office of senator under it. M. de Larochejaquelein is of +opinion, that after so many revolutions there was no chance for monarchy +in France otherwise than by means of universal suffrage, by which the +present government has been elected. He thought that the Legitimists, +who had always maintained that they, and they alone, were acceptable to +the nation, would run no risk in abating something of their _amour +propre_, and in meeting the reaction half-way. If they were right, there +was no fear of the result of such an appeal. The Orleanists, who were +few in number and factious in conduct, would indeed be justified in +shrinking from such an ordeal as the ratification of the act of two +hundred deputies of the opposition; but in any case he despaired of a +monarchical government in any form that attempted to establish itself on +a narrower basis. “Let us now suppose,” he says (p. 190), “that monarchy +were proclaimed in France otherwise than by universal suffrage, which no +accredited leader of the old Royalist parties admitted. Of the three +monarchical parties, two would have been in open hostility with the +government, and would, as now, rely for aid on the Republicans—this time +in open hostility, and with much more reason. It is, perhaps, from a +feeling akin to paternal weakness that I invariably recur to this +article of my political faith—If the question of _Monarchy_ or +_Republic_ had been frankly put to the country under the Republican +government, under the Republican constitution, all dynastic pretensions +would vanish before traditional right, and the majority of the +Republicans themselves would have submitted to the declared will of the +nation. But no!—it was thought better to carry on intrigues up to the +very day when the _coup-d’état_ of the 2d December became a social and +political necessity; instead of cherishing carefully that liberty which +we claimed for the national will, the parties I refer to preferred +reserving themselves for chances which had only the effect of prolonging +our intestine divisions.” + +M. de Larochejaquelein explains why he has given his adhesion to the +present government, elected, as it has been, by means of that very +appeal to the nation which he had, with certainly the hope of a +different result, always advocated. “If I am asked,” he says (p. 214), +“the reason of the humble support I give to the present government, my +answer is very simple: I see before me a strong government, which has +rendered real service to my country, and at this moment I do not see any +other that can possibly succeed to it. The faults that have been +committed are so numerous—revolutions have so exhausted our +strength—events have such complete power over us—that, I confess, my +reason forces me to accept the vote of eight millions of my +fellow-citizens. Nevertheless, I have never been more convinced than I +now am, of the excellence of the hereditary principle. Let us suppose +the Emperor to have issue—he has also relations. Let us suppose the +Count de Chambord to have issue—but the princes of the house of Orleans +are numerous. Under such circumstances, France would be exposed for +centuries to the danger resulting from the dissensions of the +monarchical parties disputing among each other the possession of the +crown. Hereditary right, respected by France for her own sake, saved her +from the evils which perhaps were the fate of future generations, and +spared us the repetition of those trials which we have already so +severely felt. I will be frank. The reason that many Legitimists support +the government is, that they do not wish on any account, or any terms, +either Orleanism or anarchy—the one being, in their opinion, the +consequence of the other. Were there no other motive than to destroy the +chance of either, the persons I speak of are of opinion that they ought +not to refuse taking part in the affairs of their country. Europe is +equally interested with us that the principle of the Revolution should +not be represented on the throne of France by a new family usurpation, +for there is no sovereign that such usurpation should not alarm.” + +The reign of Louis Philippe was the reign of the _bourgeoisie_—of the +revolutionary shopkeepers of Paris. The scepticism of the eighteenth +century had extended to morals—the mockery that assailed religion +gradually undermined society—and all notions about virtue, honour, +independence, were destroyed by a blighting incredulity. We are no +believers in what is termed the perfectibility of human nature, but we +do not think that, even with the most mercantile people of the world, a +love of gain is incompatible with ideas of personal and national honour. +The all-powerful _bourgeoisie_ of the Orleanist régime was not a good +specimen of that class; it carried into political life the +characteristics of its social life. Insolent and overbearing in +prosperity, it was fawning and mean in adversity. A difference is always +observable between the bearing of a gentleman—and by the term we refer +as much to moral as to social superiority, as the gentleman of nature +may be found in all classes—and the mere upstart, and in France it was +perhaps more striking than elsewhere. Dignified humility, lofty +submission, obedience that implies no forgetfulness, no sacrifice of +self-respect, loyalty which cannot be degraded even in political +servitude, a sense of personal honour which despotism cannot wound, are +far different from the pertness of the _parvenu_, the nervous pedantry +of the _doctrinaire_, or the fawning of the sycophant. The one inclines +low, with a consciousness of just subordination to high station; but +after so inclining he stands up with erect face: the other falls to the +dust prostrate. The aristocratic courtier will offer the incense of his +adulation, but his censer is not rudely flung in the eyes of his royal +master, and his homage is not without grace and dignity. His words may +be soft and insinuating, but he will not change his nature. To use the +language of one who knew both classes well, he may stoop to pick up his +master’s hat or handkerchief, but it is the act of polite attention to +superior rank, and not the mercenary subserviency of a valet; and there +is an air of equality about it which shocks no one, and does not offend +the personage to whom it is paid. We rather think that, generally +speaking, a prince prefers selecting his ministers from the class of +plebeians, because he believes he shall be served by them as mere +mercenaries; while the others he must treat as servants of his crown, +and no otherwise. It is mentioned as one of the anecdotes of the Court +of Louis Philippe, whose fault was want of dignity, that, one day, +wishing to gain over to some project of family interest, on which he had +set his heart, one of his ministers, he offered him, in a familiar, +off-hand, and half-contemptuous manner, a portion of the fruit he was at +the moment eating. The minister appeared much flattered, bowed low, and +accepted the royal gift. We are not aware whether the bribe produced the +effect intended, but we much doubt if the citizen-king would have +treated with such disdainful familiarity a Montmorency, a Noailles, or a +Molé. + +The effect produced by the exclusiveness of the July régime was such as +might have been expected. It was inculcated that the primary object of +man’s existence was the gratification of his meaner passion;—success in +the pursuit of wealth without any close examination as to the means by +which it was acquired, was regarded as the _summum bonum_; the +_enrichissez-vous_ so often repeated in the banquet and electioneering +speeches of even the most eminent of Louis Philippe’s ministers (though +we readily admit that no such incentive influenced the person who so +spoke) were the leading maxims of that system. Fidelity to principles, +faith in high and noble aspirations, were rather sneered at as the +ravings of the imagination, suited perhaps to the age of romance; and +strong attachment to traditions was referred to as a folly unworthy of +men of sense. The _bourgeois_ were often assured that they alone were +the sovereign; that they alone were eminent in eloquence and in thought; +that to them alone belonged the gifts of the earth; that they alone, +provided they were men of substance, were superior in the social as in +the moral scale; that to them belonged all distinctions as a matter of +right; that they only were fit to occupy eminent posts in every branch +of the administration, and in fact that in their hands were exclusively +placed the destinies of the state. They who thus extravagantly exalted +the pursuit of mere material interests, were destined to pay dearly for +the lessons they had taught. Faith and reverence for the past had been +held up to contempt by the new school of statesmen; but the doctrines +that had been inculcated for the overthrow of the former dynasty, were +equally applicable to the modern one, and the Revolution of February was +the consequence. Empty and dogmatic, the real _bourgeois_—the +_bourgeois_ whose stupidity or conceit makes him sure good material in +the hands of the revolutionists—has nevertheless pretensions to nothing +less than universal knowledge. Jealous of all superior to him in social +position, and insolent to those below him, he would drag down the former +to his own level, but would not permit the latter to rise to it. With +the examples yet before him, and the preceptors he had to guide him, he +could not be a _bourgeois_ such as July encouraged, without being +somewhat of an infidel. The reverence for religious forms that +characterised his fathers, was in his opinion fit for times of +ignorance, but not for the enlightened nineteenth century. He had dipped +here and there into the _Philosophical Dictionary_ of Voltaire; he could +sneer at the Mosaic chronology; be witty on the description of Noah’s +Ark; was incredulous about the Deluge; and laughed outright at the +Passage of the Red Sea. He had read the _Origine de tous les Cultes_ of +Dupuis, and could quote whole pages from Volney. He was therefore a +philosopher. With those severer studies he mingled the lighter graces of +wit and poetry, and for these accomplishments he was indebted to the +doggrel of the “philosopher of Ferney” in _Joan of Arc_; the _Guerre des +Dieux_ of Parny, and the looser songs of Beranger. To show that he +thoroughly appreciated these great masters, and that he was superior to +popular prejudice, he would not enter the doors of a church, as the +observances of religion were only fit for women and children. To prove +his independence, and to give “a lesson to the government,” he would not +pay the just respect, which degrades no man, to the accredited +representative of authority; but he would fall on his knees to worship +the merest political mountebank. He incessantly clamoured about +_equality_, and decried the aristocracy if he happened to see a +carriage, with a coronet or armorial bearings, roll by him; but his +pride was up if a struggling artist or poor man of letters addressed him +otherwise than with cap in hand. The noisy advocate of social and +political liberty, there was no greater despot in his domestic circle. +His house-porter crouched before him, and his servants grew dumb when +they heard the creak of his shoe. Railing against the “upper classes,” +his ambition was to scrape acquaintance with some decayed viscount, some +equivocal marquis; and if he had a visit from some one who bore a title, +the coroneted card lay for whole months in full view on the central +table of his drawing-room, or was stuck in the most conspicuous part of +the looking-glass frame. His personal pomposity was increased the more +he was disposed to corpulence, and his boldness was decisive proof of +the superiority of his intellect. Our worthy _bourgeois_ was rather hard +to be pleased. When the political world was tranquil, he passed his +leisure hours in running down the government; and though no one had more +experienced the mischief of agitation, he generally voted for its most +dangerous adversaries: not because he approved of their principles, or +that the ministerial candidates were not honourable men, but because he +was determined to let no opportunity pass of making the king and his +government feel that he, M. St Godibert, was not pleased with them, and +would “give them a lesson.” These lessons occasionally cost the teacher +very dear; and when agitation, warmed by himself into incipient +insurrection, grew dangerous, he was sure to be the first to accuse the +government of having excited it for its own special purposes. When +insurrection was defeated, he again blamed the government for excessive +lenity in the punishment of those who disturbed the public peace; and +when all peril was over, and a complete lull ensued, then he accused the +same government of excessive cruelty to those who a day or two before +were the _infame canaille_, but who now were his _frères egarés_—his +deluded brethren and fellow-citizens. + +These were the men who served as the instruments to bring about the +Revolution of July, and these were they who were feasted and flattered +until they were led to believe themselves the only beings on earth +worthy of consideration. Such specimens were of course to be met with as +_employés_ in the various ministerial departments. Nothing could be more +insolent, or more griping, than the general run of those underlings. The +recommendation “_enrichissez-vous_,” coming, as it did, from the first +minister of the crown, was not forgotten;—he was one of the few who did +not carry out for himself his own theory; but we fear that the love of +power, which was in him a passion, induced him to tolerate, or at least +not to prevent, the scandalous jobbing which it was known was going +on—for it is not credible that such things could be done in secret. A +government where such men enjoy, in consequence of their position, a +great though underhand influence, is humiliating for an honourable man +to live under. There is something more respectable in the audacity with +which the insurgent flings out his crimson flag, and eyes, as he passes +through the richest quarters of Paris, the trembling _bourgeois_, whose +fine mansion he has already marked out, than in the system which admits +as its principal instruments the rapacious and insolent underlings, who +too often had the ministerial ear under the Orleans régime. + +As for the representative system in France during the period of which we +speak, it was a farce. Two hundred thousand electors, for a population +of thirty-three or thirty-four millions, was not much better than an +oligarchy, and the worst of all oligarchies, for its corruption was its +bond of union, as was proved by the disclosures made to the world +towards the conclusion of Louis Philippe’s reign, when some of the +highest functionaries were dragged before the tribunals for +mal-practices; and we believe that there were other persons who did not +regret that the Revolution of February came to save them from public +disgrace. A minister who wishes to be regarded as a philosopher and a +statesman, should try to purify his age rather than corrupt it; and it +is as immoral as impolitic to encourage the baser passions of men in +order to keep yourself in power, however clean your own conscience, and +virtuous your purposes. Such things might be palliated in so loose a +politician as Walpole; but they would shock and disgust were they, by +the remotest chance, to be found in so austere a moralist as Guizot. + +Some time previous to the _coup-d’état_ of 1851, a new scheme was formed +by the Orleanists, who were tired of the forced leisure to which the +successful imitation, in February 1848, of the example set by themselves +in 1830, condemned them. The object of this new project was the complete +reconciliation of the elder and younger branches of the Bourbon family, +and of the two important sections of the Royalist party, with a view to +a restoration, on the expiry of the presidential power in May 1852, by a +_coup-d’état_ on the part of the majority of the National Assembly, a +successful rising of the people or the army, or, in fact, any other +means that offered. None of those eventualities were, it is true, +expressed in the journals that acted as organs of the party, but they +were so understood by all the initiated. Each party looked forward to +the term fixed by the constitution for Louis Napoleon to lay down his +power, for the triumph of its cause. The Mountain took no pains to +conceal its designs; and not unfrequently, amid the stormy debates which +raged in the Assembly, the “second Sunday in May” 1852 was declared to +be the date when full vengeance was to be exacted from Legitimists, +Orleanists, Buonapartists, and “reactionists” of every kind and colour. +As that fatal term approached, the Orleanists, who surpass all others in +intrigue, and such of the Legitimists as were credulous enough to trust +them, and simple enough to be led by them, did their utmost to rouse the +revolutionary demon in the Chamber, and on several occasions openly +coalesced with the Terrorists. The Republicans suspected, as every one +who knew him must have suspected, the sincerity of M. Thiers; and though +they were fully aware of his real motive for seeking admittance into +their ranks, their passions would not allow them to refuse the +co-operation of any ally, and they relied, besides, on their own courage +and energy against treachery when the important moment arrived. On the +other hand, the Royalists were full of confidence in their success, if +the preliminary and indispensable condition of reconciliation were +adopted, and they agreed that France would not again submit to the +brutal tyranny of some three hundred Socialists. Their ordinary language +was, that, even at the worst, the “promised land” would at length be +reached through the Red Sea—the “promised land” being, of course, the +Royalist restoration; and the “Red Sea” the massacre and pillage it +would be necessary for France to traverse before it was attained. The +leaders of the Royalists, superior in all the arts of intrigue to their +more brutal rivals, were vastly inferior to them in energy of action. +During a brief régime of terror they would disappear, if necessary, and +remain in some place of safety until France, exhausted and +panic-stricken, threw herself into their arms, when they would at once +establish a dictatorship. Louis Napoleon was, in their opinion, the +obstacle easiest to be got rid of; they would leave his account to be +settled by the Republicans, in case they themselves had not previously +got him out of the way. As for any difficulties on this latter point, +they considered that it was absurd to think of them. Louis Napoleon had, +according to them, fallen into such contempt with the army and the +nation, that not a finger would be raised to save him. M. Thiers, and +other great statesmen like him, had, not merely in the saloons of Paris, +and in his own particular circle, but openly in the _Salle des pas +Perdus_, and the corridors of the National Assembly, sneered at him as +“a poor creature;” and the redoubted General Changarnier himself—on +whom, by the way, the eyes of the whole world were fixed—had more than +once insulted him in the Chamber, and in his official quarters in the +Tuileries. Louis Napoleon, therefore, was so utterly scorned as to be +made the butt for continual sarcasm in the saloons of an old foreign +_intriguante_, long resident in Paris; and this was his last +degradation. The only doubt was, whether imprisonment at Vincennes would +not be investing such a miserable being with too much importance. The +ditch of Vincennes would be much better, and if a few ignorant persons +thought him of consequence, why, an ounce of lead would quiet their +fears. Some of the more judicious and far-seeing of the political +leaders of the day, very properly considered that the main object they +had in view would be materially advanced, if, as we have said, a +reconciliation could be effected between the partisans of the Count de +Chambord and the Orleanists. The idea originated with the latter. A +meeting was held of about a dozen persons at first, in order to explain +the plan which had been formed, and to organise what was termed a +“fusionist agitation.” Other meetings, more numerously attended, were +held at brief intervals; and it was resolved to send out agents to +influential persons in the departments to win them over to the cause of +the _fusion_—the _fusion_ having for object the restoration of the +Bourbons; and the parties who were engaged in it were precisely the same +men who, in the press and in the Assembly, expressed their preference +for the government as established in February, and who denounced the man +who was _suspected_ of an intention to attack the immaculate purity of +the young and as yet innocent Republic. The first step of the +_fusionists_ was directed to the chief of the house of Bourbon and the +princes of Orleans. But the Count de Chambord refused to sacrifice a +particle of what he considered to be his just rights. He was King of +France, and the only representative of legitimate royalty of his family, +and he would consent to no divided allegiance. The princes of Orleans +had been princes of the blood before their father had usurped the crown, +and they must remain so. Past wrongs and injuries he was not unwilling +to forgive; he would not be very exacting in matters of secondary +importance, but on the great principle that the sovereignty resided in +him since the abdication of the Duke d’Angoulême, which followed that of +Charles X., he would hear of no compromise. On the other hand, the +princes of Orleans would not admit of any act which had the effect of +making their father a usurper; they were the more induced to do so that +they were receiving from their agents in France, and particularly in +Paris, assurances that great popular sympathy existed for them; and in +fact, that to the house of Orleans alone the nation was looking for +salvation! At the same time it was known that the Prince de Joinville +was doing something on his own account with reference to the presidency +of the Republic. Relying on the popularity he enjoyed to a greater +degree than any of his family, he seems to have entertained some hopes +of success. With the prudence which characterised his father, he would +not, however, commit himself to any declaration; would neither deny nor +admit that he was a candidate for the presidency; would neither avow nor +disavow the acts of his friends; he might profit by their exertions, but +if they failed, he would leave them to all the consequences of their +defeat, and, in the latter case, would very probably disavow them. This, +it will be admitted, was not very frank, or straightforward, or +princely. It can scarcely be believed that the Prince de Joinville had +all at once become a Republican; and it is not unfair to conclude, that, +if successful, he would have employed his position as President to the +restoration of his family. The mistrust of the house of Orleans that had +characterised the elder Bourbons—and its history proves how their +mistrust was justified—was increased by that conduct; and the Count de +Chambord was disgusted with the policy which permitted, without +disavowal, the name of his cousin to be spoken of by his partisans in +Paris as the candidate for the future presidency of the Republic. M. +Thiers did not, after all, approve of the fusion. It was sufficient that +the suggestion of a reconciliation had proceeded from a rival of whom he +had been always jealous, for that clever and restless intriguer to set +his face against it. His utmost energies were devoted to secure the +establishment of a _regency_ in the person of the Duchess of Orleans, +mother of the Count de Paris, whose confidential adviser he was, and +whose minister he hoped to be. A restoration by means of the fusion +would seriously interfere with his private plans, and he gave it +therefore his most decided opposition. To secure at any cost the +services of the man who at that time commanded the army of Paris, and +whose influence over the vast military force of the Republic was long +believed to be unbounded, was a great object. That man had +unquestionably rendered services to order. But his head had been turned +by adulation arising from gratitude for past and hopes of future +services; and he at length came to believe that on him alone depended +the fate of France. He was flattered with the idea that the part of Monk +was reserved for him; and to enhance the value of his co-operation, he +coquetted with both parties, and affected an air of mysterious reserve, +which rendered him equally impenetrable to all. That reserve was carried +on so long that it began to be whispered that General Changarnier would, +when matters came to the point, declare neither for the one party nor +the other, but would offer himself as candidate for the Presidency. This +rumour was absurd; and the silence of the general, who was Legitimist by +tradition rather than from principle, and an Orleanist from interest and +habit, was nothing more than the usual coquetry in which he apparently +took much delight. In fact, he remained dreaming away till the +_coup-d’état_ rudely woke him and others from their slumber. Of the +possibility of a fusion of interests between these parties, or of a +sincere reconciliation between the elder and younger branches of the +royal family, we entertain very serious doubts. + +The house of Orleans had been, from the time of the Regent, of infamous +memory, fatal to the elder Bourbons. It was the evil genius that haunted +them from the cradle to the grave. The government of Louis Philippe +repaid the benefits conferred on the house of Orleans with ingratitude. +One of its earliest acts was the introduction of a measure for the +perpetual banishment of the elder Bourbons, and for the compulsory sale +of the property they held in France. They who have been shocked, and, we +readily admit, _justly_ shocked, at the decree of the 22d January 1852, +confiscating to the state the appanages which, according to the usages +of the French monarchy, should have reverted to the state at the +accession of a prince of the royal family, and at the compulsory sale of +the Orleans property, may have forgotten that that decree was but an +imitation of the legislative enactment of the 10th April 1832. We +condemn, on principle, such acts of confiscation; they are replete with +injustice; but we cannot help feeling that the decree of the 22d January +1852, all bad as it was, was an act of retribution. Signal ingratitude +is seldom left unpunished; and while we reprobate the conduct of Louis +Napoleon, we cannot say that the house of Orleans was wholly undeserving +of the treatment it met with. The sentence of perpetual exile, and +confiscation of property, was passed by the Restoration on the +Buonaparte family. That family owed no gratitude to the Bourbons; but +the princes of Orleans were bound by the strongest ties of gratitude to +them. On the 10th April 1832, the law was promulgated relative to the +elder branch of the Bourbons and the family of Napoleon. The law bore, +of course, the signature Louis Philippe, and the counter-signature of M. +Barthe, Louis Philippe’s Minister of Justice. The 1st, 2d, 3d, and 6th +articles were as follows: “1st, The territory of France and of its +colonies is interdicted _for ever_ to Charles X., deposed as he is from +the royal dignity in virtue of the declaration of the 7th August 1830; +it is also interdicted to his descendants, and to the husbands and wives +of his descendants. 2d, The persons mentioned in the preceding article +shall not enjoy in France any civil rights; they shall not possess any +property real or personal; they shall not acquire any, gratuitous or +otherwise. 3d, The aforesaid persons are bound to sell, in a definitive +manner, the whole of the property, without exception, which they possess +in France. That sale shall be effected, for the unencumbered property, +within the year dating from the promulgation of the present law; and for +the property susceptible of liquidation, within the year dating from the +period at which the right of possession shall have been irrevocably +fixed. 6th, The provisions of the first and second articles of the +present law are applicable to the ascendants and descendants of +Napoleon, to his uncles and aunts, his nephews and nieces; to his +brothers, their wives and their descendants; to his sisters and their +husbands.” This law against the benefactors and the kinsmen of Louis +Philippe was not enacted in the first heat of animosity, and the first +impulse of revenge for real or fancied wrongs, which, immediately +following a great revolution, might have been alleged as a palliation. +It was enacted one year and nine months after the Revolution of July, +when the passions of political parties, so far as they affected the +unfortunate Charles X. and his family, had time to cool down. A +high-minded man would have preferred forfeiting even the crown of +France, glorious though it be, to putting his signature to such a +document. The public and private virtues of the Orleans family have been +enlarged upon even to satiety. State reasons may be alleged as an excuse +for things which morality condemns; but the vaunted qualities of that +family should have placed them above any such justification. State +reasons may be alleged for the perpetration of any enormity. We have no +doubt that Catherine II. could allege them for the partition of Poland; +and the Emperor Nicholas justifies his present conduct towards the +Ottoman Empire quite as satisfactorily. Pretensions to virtues far +superior to those of ordinary men should, however, place those who are +so gifted out of ordinary rules. We have said that we reprobate the +decree of the 22d January 1852, but we have no doubt that Louis Napoleon +justified that arbitrary act by the law of 1832. The house of Orleans +renewed the sentence of perpetual banishment against the family of +Napoleon, and of incapability to possess property in the French +territory. Louis Philippe owed a heavy debt of gratitude to Charles X. +and his family; we have seen how that debt was paid off; no such +obligation bound the Buonapartes to the house of Orleans. + +But there existed another obstacle in the way of reconciliation between +the elder and younger branches of the Bourbons—another outrage which it +is scarcely in human nature to forget. The Orleanist party had protested +in 1820 against the legitimacy of the present Count de Chambord. In that +year a document appeared in London, entitled “Protest of the Duke of +Orleans.” It was headed as follows: “His Royal Highness declares that he +protests formally against the minutes of the 29th September last, which +pretend to establish that the child named Charles Ferdinand Dieu-Donné +is the legitimate son of the Duchess of Berri. The Duke of Orleans will +produce, in fitting time and place, witnesses who can prove the origin +of that child and its mother. He will produce all the papers necessary +to show that the Duchess of Berri has never been _enceinte_ since the +unfortunate death of her husband, and he will point out the authors of +the machination of which that very weak-minded princess has been the +instrument. Until such time as the favourable moment arrives for +disclosing the whole of that intrigue, the Duke of Orleans cannot do +otherwise than call attention to the fantastical scene which, according +to the above-mentioned minutes, has been played at the Pavilion Marsan +(the apartment of the Duchess of Berri at the Tuileries.)” The paper +then repeats the whole of the account of the _accouchement_ as it +appeared in the _Journal de Paris_, the confidential journal of the +government, and shows the alleged contradictions in it, with the view of +proving that the whole was an imposture. The Protest and the +accompanying details to which we have alluded, were republished in the +_Courrier Français_ of the 2d August 1830; and the _Courrier Français_ +was devoted to the Orleanist dynasty. + +But those are not the only humiliations which the elder Bourbons have +suffered from the family of Orleans; and when we are told that the son +of the Duchess of Berri is about to take to his bosom the sons of the +man who laid bare to the world’s mockery the weakness of his mother, we +are called upon to believe that that son has become lost to every manly +sentiment. We doubt much if this be the case. There can be no sincerity +on the part of the Orleanists who first suggested the _fusion_. They +well know that, in the event of a Legitimist restoration, the men who +overthrew the throne of his grandfather and drove him into exile, who +resisted all attempts to restore them to their country, can never be his +advisers—if he be what we hope he is. Could the Duchess of Berri receive +at her levee the purchasers of the Jew Deutz, or those who signed and +gave to publication the medical report of Blaye? It is a vile intrigue, +got up for the sole benefit of the Orleanists. It was not out of love +for the house of Bourbon, but from hatred to Louis Napoleon, that the +fusion originated; and we agree with M. de Larochejaquelein when he says +that “the Orleanists and Legitimists, not being able to effect a fusion +of love, try to effect one of hatred, with the predetermined resolution +to tear each other to pieces hereafter, and with a violence all the +greater from the consciousness that one party was tricked by the other, +if indeed both were not tricked.” + +The Legitimists are no match for their rivals in cunning—in the lower +arts of Machiavellism—in what is vulgarly but expressively termed _la +politique de cuisine_. In 1848 the former occupied a much better +position than the latter. The régime they had combated for eighteen long +years was at length overthrown, and the comparison between the fall of +_their_ sovereign and that of the “citizen” king was infinitely in +favour of the former. + +Charles X. retired slowly before his enemies, and with all the dignity +of a defeat which is not dishonourable, nor dishonouring. In the most +critical moments, and when menaced with great danger, he never forgot +who and what he was. He assumed no disguise; he put on no menial livery; +and to the last moment of his embarkation for the land of his exile, his +friends had no cause to blush for him. He was throughout a king—“Ay, +every inch a king!” Whatever the faults he may have committed when on +the throne—and we are free to admit that his rule was far from +faultless—there was no loss of personal dignity in his descent from it. +If the revolution of February succeeded without the co-operation of the +Legitimists, it was not against them that it was directed, nor was it +the Legitimists who were to be conquered. And yet, in the course of a +very few months, the party became completely subordinate to their more +clever and more unscrupulous rivals. It is true that in the first +movement, when anarchy was wildest, the instinct of self-preservation +from the evils which menaced society itself, bound all men of order, +without reference to party, against the common enemy, Socialism. But it +is difficult to understand, when the impossibility of a Republican +system was recognised, when the necessity of substituting another form +of government was evident to all, how the Legitimists allowed themselves +to be seduced by their enemies. A snare in the form of the “fusion” was +laid for them, and they easily fell into it. It would be a waste of time +to detail all the manœuvres, the negotiations, the conferences, the +schemes for the realisation of that idea. There was nothing positive or +real at bottom. Everything was left to chance. It was soon evident that +neither of the parties was sincere; each tried to deceive the other. +Some of the more confident, or the more audacious, suggested that +propositions should be made to Louis Napoleon himself; and among the +Legitimists there were found persons silly enough to believe that he +would, notwithstanding all the chances in his favour, derived from the +spontaneous election of the 10th December 1848, gladly co-operate in the +restoration of a prince of the house of Bourbon. The name of General +Changarnier was proposed as the person to whom the dictatorship was to +be intrusted until such time as the Royalist restoration was +accomplished. A dictatorship was the great object with all parties: the +Socialists, in order that France should be regenerated according to +their peculiar ideas; the “moderate Republicans” would have selected +General Cavaignac, as they did after the insurrection of June, and would +have tried once more to force their system on a terrified population; +the Legitimists and Orleanists looked to a dictatorship as the surest +means toward a Royalist restoration, though it was not decided among +them who was to be the future sovereign. The Orleanists counted much on +their cleverness to beat their allies out of the field—allies in the +moment of uncertainty and danger, but foes to be got rid of at any cost +when the booty came to be divided. “In 1849,” says M. de +Larochejaquelein, “I was one of those who wished at least to maintain +the Republic, in order to insure the union of all that was reasonable +and patriotic in the country; to call on France to put an end, once for +all, to revolutions; and our object was to form the electoral committee, +known afterwards by the name of the Committee of the _Rue de Poitiers_. +I had been chosen by the Legitimists; but when we met, I requested to +have it explained to me for what reason the committee was only composed +of Orleanists and Legitimists. It appeared to me fitting and proper that +the more judicious and moderate Republicans should form at least a third +part of our committee, as we had at heart hopes of a different kind. I +was told that the committee did not wish for Republicans, simply because +it did not wish for the Republic. I demanded why, out of sixty members +of the committee, forty-five belonged to the Orleanists, and only +fifteen to the Legitimist party. An ex-minister replied that, though the +party of legitimacy was, no doubt, honourable, yet that it formed a very +small minority, while the other was in fact the nation. Not being of +that opinion, I withdrew, and I declined being made use of as an +instrument for the restoration to the throne of France of the +revolutionary monarchy of 1830.” The division and weakness of those +parties is further illustrated in this passage: “There remained another +means of which the intimate confidants of the Count de Chambord were +dupes—a plan which was never admitted except by them, and the +impossibility of which was evident—namely, to bring about a restoration +through the instrumentality of the Legislative Assembly itself. Without +understanding what they were doing, the parliamentary Legitimists of +1850 directed all their efforts to renew the act of 1830, when 219 +deputies, without right of any kind, and with the most flagrant +disregard of their duty, presumed to change the form of Government. The +Assembly was divided into so many parties that it was in vain to hope +for a majority for that object. It is true that towards the close of the +Assembly all parties made a desperate attempt to combat Buonapartism; +but the moment that a serious proposition was made to substitute a +government for that of the President, it was found that concord did not +and could not exist between two of the great parties who composed that +Assembly.” + +M. de Larochejaquelein gives some interesting details of the secret +intrigues of the Orleanists to win over the Legitimists to the “fusion;” +and it is amusing to find how both parties were deeply engaged in the +duty of allotting crowns and imposing conditions on pretenders, up to +the very eve of the _coup-d’état_. We had already become acquainted, +through the channel of the public press, with the intrigues which made +the presidency of Louis Napoleon one continued agitation, and we are not +sorry to have the testimony of one who was an eye and an ear witness of +the whole. “I appeal,” says M. de Larochejaquelein, “to the good faith +of all political men—Is it, or is it not, true, that the idea of the +most confidential advisers of the house of Orleans was to induce the +Count de Chambord to abdicate in favour of the Count de Paris? Is it, or +is it not true, that they urged the adoption of the Count de Paris by +the Count de Chambord, even to the prejudice of the issue of the latter, +supposing that he had any? Is it, or is it not true, that on the eve of +the 2d December, certain persons who were the most influential, who +stood highest in favour at Claremont, made that monstrous proposition in +the _Salle des Conferences_ of the National Assembly, and that it +produced a great effect on the Legitimist members of the Assembly? Is +it, or is it not true, that the _Sceptics_ of the party replied, with +surprising impertinence, Yes, no doubt we earnestly desire the fusion! +What then? But it is not our interest to oppose it. You (the +Legitimists) have for a long time kept yourselves apart from public +affairs. The country belongs to us. _Your_ principle is the best; we do +not dispute the fact; but, above all, it is certain that your principle +(legitimacy) is necessary for us to adopt. _Your_ prince (the Count de +Chambord) may return with _our_ royal family. _He_ is its chief; agreed. +But at the end of six months he will see what his position really is. He +will see that it is impossible for him to govern with _you_, and without +_us_. He has no children; he has too deep a sense of religion to be +ambitious; he loves France too much to wish her to be given up to +commotions which would expose her to new revolutions. He will prefer the +castle of Chambord as a residence to the Tuileries. You may be certain +that we shall treat him well, and we shall all be contented. The +principle itself will be respected, and _we_ shall govern France.” Such +were the propositions, and such the language of the partisans of the +Orleans family to the Legitimists. Not a word, of course, was said of +Louis Napoleon; and these profound statesmen were thus disposing in sure +confidence of the fruit of their schemes only a few hours before they +were scattered like chaff before the wind by the man on whom they +disdained even to pass a thought! The Orleanists were still tormented by +one fear; they trembled lest the proposition so often presented to the +Assembly by M. de Larochejaquelein should again be renewed at that +critical moment which preceded the expiration of the presidency of Louis +Napoleon. The President of the Assembly, M. Dupin, the principal agent +of the Orleans family, urged, and with more than usual energy, that body +to refuse its authorisation for the printing of M. Leo de Laborde’s +proposition, namely, that France should, at the important moment when +every faction was struggling for supremacy, be consulted as to whether +she desired, or not, the re-establishment of her traditional monarchy. +M. Dupin treated the question as if it were one of life or death to +himself. He threw off all restraint, and resisted with his utmost +efforts any measure resembling an appeal to the nation, or embodying the +principle of legitimacy. “And even at the present moment,” says M. de +Larochejaquelein, “the language of the Orleanists is this: ‘We find that +the _fusion_ is the best instrument of hostility against the government +of Louis Napoleon, and for that object we must effect it. But if the +Count de Chambord should ever become a widower, he must not think of +forming a new matrimonial engagement. Should he happen to have children, +he must no longer count on our support.’” + +One of the hallucinations under which the Orleanists laboured was, that +Louis Napoleon was in his heart devoted to them exclusively; and that +when the _fusion_ was consummated, he would transfer his power to them. +That delusion survived even the _coup-d’état_. M. de Larochejaquelein +admits, in common with all rational men, that the _coup-d’état_ was the +salvation of society itself, and they who were loudest in their applause +of it were the Orleanists. “The most ardent in their approbation,” the +noble writer remarks, “were the Orleanists, because they were convinced +that the President was, perhaps without meaning it, working for them. +The decrees of the 22d January undeceived them. From that moment they +became divided into two camps, that of the extreme opponents, and that +of the men who accept the government, but who yet cherish a spirit of +hostility to it, more or less openly declared.” + +We have often thought it extraordinary why those Legitimists who had +freely taken the oaths of allegiance to Louis Philippe refused them to +Louis Napoleon; and on what grounds those who yielded prompt obedience +to a revolutionary system, established by some two hundred deputies, +should, while demanding an appeal to the people, decline to recognise a +power which is the issue of the national will. M. de Larochejaquelein +professes to be unable to account for the fact. “It would be curious,” +he says, “to find out the reasons on which they found that refusal. I +confess that I cannot explain a proceeding of the kind, and which is so +advantageous to the revolution of July. It is true that the Legitimists +must be pained at seeing their hopes baffled once more; but were it only +in a social point of view, they ought to give their co-operation to the +government. By keeping apart, they leave the place open to the men whom +they had for so many years combated, and they commit the injustice of +placing on an equality the usurpation of 1830 with the election of the +Emperor successively by six, by seven, and by eight millions of +suffrages. Prince Louis Napoleon had overthrown nothing which was +endeared to us; it was not he who had persecuted the princes who were +the object of our reverence and of our devotedness; it was not he who +placed the revolution on a throne; but it was he who combated the +revolution. He had, in the opinion of the immense majority of the +people, rendered a signal service to France by effacing beforehand the +fatal term of May 1852. He made an appeal to all honest men, without +distinction of party, to aid him in saving the country. The majority of +Legitimists could not well disregard the will of the nation; they +submitted to the verdict without sacrificing their principles.” We need +not say that we approve of the policy which has preferred the good of +their country to the mere gratification of party feeling or personal +ambition; and we see no inconsistency in the accepting a government that +has fulfilled the conditions which, in the eyes of these persons, alone +justified their adhesion. + +As for the Orleanists, they began in intrigue, have continued in it, and +we have no reason to suppose that they will ever change. Place and power +are, with very few exceptions, their object. The Palais Royal was, +during the Restoration, the favourite resort, the headquarters of all +the malcontents of the day: all who stirred up opposition to the +government, all who intrigued against Louis XVIII. or Charles X., were +welcome to the palace of “our cousin of Orleans.” They were not true +even to the government of their own choice; they had overthrown one +dynasty, and because M. Thiers or M. Odillon Barrot wanted the place, +which M. Guizot preferred exposing the country to convulsion rather than +be torn from, another dynasty was flung down after it. The tactics of +the party have been always pretty much the same; revolution was evoked +by them to the hypocritical cry of _Vive la Charte_, or _Vive la +Constitution_. They were the men who organised, in 1829, the formidable +associations against the payment of the taxes. At that time, also, as +twenty years later, banquets were got up; and at one of those scenes of +feasting, 221 crowns, in honour of the 221 deputies of the opposition, +adorned the hall; and that nothing should be wanting to complete the +resemblance, it was M. Odillon Barrot who made the speech on the 4th +July 1830, which was the prelude to the fall of Charles X.—the same +great citizen whose banquettings and whose orations helped to destroy +the throne of Orleans in 1848—the same demagogue whose conceit led him +to suppose that _he_ alone could lay the fiend he had evoked. There was +nothing too low for them to stoop to, no instrument too mean for them to +reject. It was that faction that brought about the revolution of July, +it was the same that helped on that of February, and it was the +coalition of the _fusionists_ with the Mountain that provoked the +_coup-d’état_ of December 1851. Where were all those eminent statesmen, +those solemn orators, those sour pedants, those profound thinkers, those +philosophers, those great citizens, when the widowed Duchess of Orleans +faced the mob, who had been rendered infuriate by the men who were +afterwards unable or afraid to control them? + +It has been made a matter of reproach to Louis Napoleon, that the +persons who enjoy his confidence, or preside at his councils, are +obscure adventurers, of no moral or social influence; and that no man of +eminence, worth, or standing, will accept either power or place in a +government so degraded. This, we rather think, is too sweeping an +assertion. We should like to know what was the social, moral, or +political eminence of M. Thiers, when the Revolution of July brought him +first into notice. If we cast our eye over the list of senators under +the imperial régime, we find names there that may stand a comparison +with many in the late Chamber of Peers; and as for corruption, we may +point to the events that immediately preceded the Revolution of +February, when some of the highest had to answer for acts which were +anything but moral. It is true that some of the leading men who directed +the policy of the country under Louis Philippe have taken no active part +in public affairs under the imperial government. But when we hear all +this talk about “eminent men” refusing office, and declining all +participation in the government of the day, we are tempted to ask how +had those “eminent men” managed the business of the country when they +had its sole direction and control? Their government, with immense +resources at its command, and after eighteen years of profound peace, +was upset in a few hours by a contemptible street row. + +We are not aware that M. de Larochejaquelein has been answered by any of +the parties whose intrigues he has exposed. We think it would be +difficult to answer him; his sketch carries with it internal evidence of +its correctness. It is no answer, so far as the truth of his allegations +is concerned, that he has abandoned the party with which he had been +connected. We believe that he has had to undergo the petty persecutions +of the _coterie_ of Frohsdorf, who have resorted to every stratagem to +destroy whatever influence his name may still carry with it in La +Vendée; and, judging from his present production, he is of opinion that +that _coterie_ is not worth any man’s making any extraordinary +sacrifices for them. But whatever be the motives that have influenced +his conduct, or whatever the value of his “appeal to the people,” we are +bound to admit, that so far he has acted consistently with his theory. + + + _Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._ + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + _The Elements of Materia Medica and Therapeutics._ By JONATHAN + PEREIRA, M.D., F.R.S. Third Edition. London, 1849–50. Pp. 1538. + +Footnote 2: + + _The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater._ Fifth Edition. London. + +Footnote 3: + + _M‘Culloch’s Commercial Dictionary_, edit. 1847, p. 1314. + +Footnote 4: + + Madden, _Travels in Turkey_, vol. i. p. 16. + +Footnote 5: + + The effects, real or imaginary, of this “juice” are thus described:— + + “Sleeping within mine orchard, + My custom always of the afternoon, + Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, + With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, + And in the porches of mine ears did pour + The leperous distilment: whose effect + Holds such an enmity with blood of man, + That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through + The natural gates and alleys of the body; + And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset + And curd, like eager droppings into milk, + The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; + And a most instant tetter bark’d about, + Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, + All my smooth body.”—_Hamlet_, Act i. scene v. + +Footnote 6: + + Pereira, p. 1427. + +Footnote 7: + + English edition, p. 278, quoted in M‘Culloch’s _Commercial + Dictionary_, p. 1314. + +Footnote 8: + + _Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry._ London edition of 1812, p. + 167. + +Footnote 9: + + _Ale_ was the name given to unhopped malt liquor before the use of + hops was introduced. When hops were added, it was called _beer_, by + way of distinction, I suppose, because we imported the custom from the + Low Countries, where the word beer was, and is still, in common use. + Ground ivy (_Glechoma hederacea_), called also alehoof and tunhoof, + was generally employed for preserving ale before the use of hops was + known. “The manifold virtues in hops,” says Gerard in 1596, “do + manifestly argue the holesomeness of _beere_ above _ale_, for the hops + rather make it physicall drink to keep the body in health, than an + ordinary drink for the quenching of our thirst.” + +Footnote 10: + + _Voyage dans le Nord de la Bolivie, et dans les parties voisines du + Perou._ Par H. A. WEDDELL, M.D., &c. &c. Paris, Bertrand; London, + Baillière. 1853. + + _Scènes et Récits des Pays d’Outre-Mer._ Par THÉODORE PAVIE. Paris, + Lévy. 1853. + +Footnote 11: + + _Blackwood’s Magazine_, No. CCCCXXX., for August 1851. + +Footnote 12: + + The occupants of the pit at a theatre are called in Spain the + _mosqueteria_. + +Footnote 13: + + “Be not so well pleased, Juana, to see how I suffer for thee; that + which is my fate to-day, to-morrow may chance to be thine.” + +Footnote 14: + + This arm, which the _gauchos_ throw to a distance of twenty paces, + consists of three balls fastened to the same number of cords. The one + held in the hand is longer than the two others. + +Footnote 15: + + _History of the Captivity of Napoleon at St Helena._ By JOHN FORSYTH, + M.A. 3 vols. London: Murray. + +Footnote 16: + + _Notes and Emendations to the Text of Shakespeare’s Plays, from Early + MS. Corrections in a Copy of the Folio, 1632, in the possession of J. + Payne Collier, Esq., F.S.A.; forming a Supplemental Volume to the + Works of Shakespeare, by the same Editor._ + + _The Text of Shakespeare vindicated from the Interpolations and + Corruptions advocated by J. P. Collier, Esq., in his Notes and + Emendations._ By SAMUEL WELLER SINGER. 1853. + + _Old Lamps or New? A Plea for the Original Editions of the Text of + Shakespeare, forming an Introductory Notice to the Stratford + Shakespeare._ Edited by CHARLES KNIGHT. 1853. + + _A Few Notes on Shakespeare, with Occasional Remarks on the + Emendations of the MS. Corrector in Mr Collier’s Copy of the Folio, + 1632._ By the Rev. ALEXANDER DYCE. 1853. + + _A Few Remarks on the Emendation “Who smothers her with Painting,” in + the Play of Cymbeline, discovered by Mr Collier in a Corrected Copy of + the Second Edition of Shakespeare._ 1852. + + _New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare, + supplementary to all Editions._ By JOSEPH HUNTER. In 2 vols. 1845. + +Footnote 17: + + _A Few Notes on Shakespeare_, &c., p. 22. + +Footnote 18: + + This expression, “to cry aim,” occurs, in a serious application, in + the following lines from “King John,” _Act II. Scene 1_:— + + “_K. Philip._—Peace, lady; pause or be more temperate: + It ill beseems this presence, _to cry aim_ + To these ill-tuned repetitions”— + + that is, to give encouragement to these ill-tuned wranglings. + +Footnote 19: + + _A Few Notes_, &c., p. 50. + +Footnote 20: + + _The Text of Shakespeare Vindicated_, &c., p. 24. + +Footnote 21: + + Molesworth’s edition, vol. iv. p. 46. + +Footnote 22: + + See _New Illustrations_, &c., vol. i. p. 356. + +Footnote 23: + + _L’Insurrection en Chine, depuis son Origine jusqu’à la Prise de + Nankin._ Par MM. CALLERY et YVAN. Avec une Carte topographique, et le + Portrait du Prétendant. Paris: 1853. + +Footnote 24: + + Painted upon the bucklers of the Chinese soldiers are all manner of + ferocious animals;—the tiger is the one most frequently seen, hence + the surname. On behalf of his Celestial friend, and in extenuation of + this ridiculous custom, Dr Yvan maintains that, in many of our + European military equipments, the same intention of terrifying by a + fierce aspect is manifest—as, for instance, in the bear-skin caps of + grenadiers, hussars, &c. The Spaniards, who bear little love to any + foreigners, and who are particularly given to laughing at their + Portuguese neighbours, assert that there was formerly in use, in the + Portuguese army, the word of command, “_Rosto feroz a o + enimigo!_”—Ferocious face to the enemy!—upon receiving which, the + soldiers looked excessively savage, showed their teeth, and made a + threatening gesture. This must have been a base imitation of the + Chinese. To this day the _tigers_, who are often faint-hearted enough, + go into action making horrible grimaces. Dr Yvan gives a very curious + account of the Chinese army, in which sound of gong is used instead of + word of command, and the officers are stationed behind their men to + prevent their running away—an exercise to which they are extremely + addicted. Silence in the ranks is far from being enjoined; on the + contrary, when approaching an enemy, the tigers and other wild beasts + roar in character—their sweet voices, with a gong accompaniment, + combining in a discord that is truly infernal. There exists a Chinese + treatise on the art of war, in twenty-four volumes, entitled + Ou-Pi-Tche. Its perusal is not allowed to civil mandarins below the + third rank, or to military mandarins below the fourth, nor, of course, + to persons of inferior degree. It is not admitted in China that a + private person, a literary man, a merchant, an agriculturist, can have + any good motive in studying such a work. Booksellers are permitted to + keep but one copy at a time, and are compelled to register the names + of purchasers. “Before beginning the war with the Celestial Empire,” + Dr Yvan says, “the English procured several copies of this treatise. + One day, at Canton, an American merchant mentioned this fact to a + mandarin of very high rank. The mandarin struck the palm of his left + hand with his fan: ‘I no longer wonder,’ he cried, ‘that the + red-haired barbarians vanquished us!’”—_L’Insurrection en Chine_, + chap. ix. pp. 119–124. + +Footnote 25: + + _La France en 1853._ Par Le Marquis DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN. Paris: 1853. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last + chapter. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76973 *** |