diff --git "a/gutenberg/test.jsonl" "b/gutenberg/test.jsonl" deleted file mode 100644--- "a/gutenberg/test.jsonl" +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11 +0,0 @@ -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, based on scans made available\nby the Internet Archive,\nhttps://archive.org/details/christianhymnboo00campiala\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n THE\n CHRISTIAN HYMN BOOK:\n\n\n A COMPILATION OF\n PSALMS, HYMNS AND SPIRITUAL SONGS,\n ORIGINAL AND SELECTED.\n\n BY\n A. CAMPBELL AND OTHERS.\n\n\n REVISED AND ENLARGED BY A COMMITTEE.\n\n\n CINCINNATI:\n H. S. BOSWORTH, PUBLISHER.\n 1870.\n\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by\n R. M. Bishop, C. H. Gould, W. H. Lape, O. A. Burgess, and J. B.\n Bowman, _Trustees_,\n In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for\n the Southern District of Ohio.\n\n MIAMI PRINTING COMPANY,\n Printers, Stereotypers, and Binders,\n WEST EIGHTH ST., NEAR MAIN.\n\n\n\n\n INTRODUCTION.\n\n\nThis Hymn Book is the result of an agreement between Alexander\nCampbell--the former proprietor of the Christian Hymn Book--and the\nChristian brotherhood at large, as represented in the American\nChristian Missionary Society. At the annual meeting of the Society, in\n1864, an overture was made by Mr. Campbell, of the copy-right of the\nChristian Hymn Book, to be held by certain brethren, in trust, on two\nconditions: 1. That a committee be mutually agreed on by himself and\nthe Society, to revise and enlarge the book, so as to meet the general\nwishes of the brotherhood of Disciples; 2. That the profits arising\nfrom the sale of the book be given to the A. C. M. S. This overture was\naccepted, and the Committee of Revision was immediately appointed. That\nCommittee, having fulfilled their task, now present the fruit of their\nlabors to the public.\n\nIt will be seen that, while the former book was made the basis of this,\nthe work of revision and enlargement has been made as thorough as\npossible. Still, comparatively few hymns have been expunged. After\nmaking as complete an exploration as our time would allow, of the\nrealms of Christian Hymnology, we were more than ever convinced of the\nvalue of the labor, judgment, and taste, displayed in the compilation\nof the book we have so long used and cherished. We have met with no\nbook of equal size, that possesses equal merit. The principal changes\nwe have made, are:\n\n1.--A new classification of subjects--increasing the facility of\nreference to hymns on the various subjects of song.\n\n2.--An unbroken series of numbers to the hymns, which, while it\nnecessitates the abolition of the formal distinction between Psalms,\nHymns, and Spiritual Songs, enables us to avoid the confusion that\nconstantly grew out of the three series of numbers, which the former\nclassification required.\n\n3.--The numbering of the stanzas of every hymn, for easy reference,\nwhen any stanza is omitted in singing.\n\n4.--An arrangement of _meters_, under every heading.\n\n5.--A greatly enlarged number and variety of hymns, suited to the\ndiversified wants of personal, social, and public devotion.\n\nWe take pleasure in acknowledging our indebtedness to numerous\nbrethren, for counsel and assistance; especially to Elder William\nBaxter, whose collected material and original contributions have been\ncheerfully placed at our disposal.\n\nWhile we have admitted a few original hymns, prepared expressly for\nthis work, the additions have been made mostly from the old authors, or\nfrom the new resources furnished by the living authors of our own and\nother lands. It is believed that the work is brought fully up to the\nresources and demands of the present time.\n\nKnowing that in Christian families, the Hymn Book is generally the most\npopular book of sacred poetry, and, not seldom, the sole resource of\nthe family in that department, we have felt the importance of a large\nvariety of the choicest lyrical productions that our language affords.\nWe have done what our time and means would allow, toward this end. We\nhope that it may minister to the comfort, strength, and purity of the\nChurch of God; throw over many a hearth-stone, and many a weary\npilgrim-path, the sweet radiance of heavenly song; and give fresh\nencouragement to the cultivation of all pious sentiments and emotions,\nalike in the closet, the family, the prayer-meeting, and the public\nassembly.\n\n ISAAC ERRETT,\n W. K. PENDLETON,\n W. T. MOORE,\n T. M. ALLEN,\n A. S. HAYDEN.\n\n Cincinnati, O., August 7, 1865.\n\n\n\n\n THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.\n\n\n1 L. M.\n The works and the word of God.\n Psalm 19.\n\n The heavens declare thy glory, Lord!\n In every star thy wisdom shines;\n But when our eyes behold thy word,\n We read thy name in fairer lines.\n\n 2 The rolling sun, the changing light,\n And nights and days, thy power confess;\n But the blest volume thou hast writ,\n Reveals thy justice and thy grace.\n\n 3 Sun, moon, and stars, convey thy praise\n Round the whole earth, and never stand;\n So when thy truth began its race,\n It touched and glanced on every land.\n\n 4 Nor shall thy spreading gospel rest\n Till through the world thy truth has run;\n Till Christ has all the nations blest\n That see the light, or feel the sun.\n\n 5 Great Sun of Righteousness! arise;\n Bless the dark world with heavenly light:\n Thy gospel makes the simple wise,\n Thy laws are pure, thy judgments right.\n\n 6 Thy noblest wonders here we view,\n In souls renewed, and sins forgiven;\n Lord! cleanse my sins, my soul renew,\n And make thy word my guide to heaven.\n\n\n2 L. M.\n Divine love displayed, etc.\n\n To thee my heart, Eternal King!\n Would now its thankful tribute bring,\n To thee its humble homage raise\n In songs of ardent, grateful praise.\n\n 2 All nature shows thy boundless love,\n In worlds below and worlds above;\n But in thy blessed word I trace\n The richer glories of thy grace.\n\n 3 There what delightful truths are given;\n There Jesus shows the way to heaven;\n His name salutes my listening ear,\n Revives my heart and checks my fear.\n\n 4 There Jesus bids our sorrows cease,\n And gives the laboring conscience peace;\n Raises our grateful feelings high,\n And points to mansions in the sky.\n\n 5 For love like this, O, may our song\n Through endless years thy praise prolong;\n And distant climes thy name adore,\n Till time and nature are no more!\n\n\n3 L. M.\n Nature and revelation.\n\n The starry firmament on high,\n And all the glories of the sky,\n Yet shine not to thy praise, O Lord,\n So brightly as thy written word.\n\n 2 The hopes that holy word supplies,\n Its truths divine and precepts wise--\n In each a heavenly beam I see,\n And every beam conducts to thee.\n\n 3 Almighty Lord! the sun shall fail,\n The moon forget her nightly tale,\n And deepest silence hush on high\n The radiant chorus of the sky--\n\n 4 But fixed for everlasting years,\n Unmoved amid the wreck of spheres,\n Thy word shall shine in cloudless day\n When heaven and earth have passed away.\n\n\n4 L. M.\n Strength and peace from the divine word.\n\n There is a stream whose gentle flow\n Supplies the city of our God;\n Life, love, and joy, still gliding through,\n And watering our divine abode.\n\n 2 That sacred stream, thy holy word,\n Supports our faith, our fear controls;\n Sweet peace thy promises afford,\n And give new strength to fainting souls.\n\n\n5 L. M.\n The Scriptures our light and guide.\n\n When Israel through the desert passed,\n A fiery pillar went before,\n To guide them through the dreary waste,\n And lessen the fatigues they bore.\n\n 2 Such is thy glorious word, O God;\n 'Tis for our light and guidance given;\n It sheds a luster all abroad,\n And points the path to bliss and heaven.\n\n 3 It fills the soul with sweet delight,\n And quickens its inactive powers;\n It sets our wandering footsteps right,\n Displays thy love and kindles ours.\n\n 4 Its promises rejoice our hearts;\n Its doctrine is divinely true;\n Knowledge and pleasure it imparts;\n It comforts and instructs us too.\n\n 5 Ye favored lands, who have this word!\n Ye saints, who feel its saving power!\n Unite your tongues to praise the Lord,\n And his distinguished grace adore.\n\n\n6 L. M.\n Their words to the end of the world.\n Psalm 19:4.\n\n Upon the gospel's sacred page\n The gathered beams of ages shine;\n And, as it hastens, every age\n But makes its brightness more divine.\n\n 2 On mightier wing, in loftier flight,\n From year to year, does knowledge soar;\n And, as it soars, the gospel light\n Becomes effulgent more and more.\n\n 3 More glorious still, as centuries roll,\n New regions blest, new powers unfurled;\n Expanding with the expanding soul,\n Its radiance shall o'erflow the world;\n\n 4 Flow to restore, but not destroy;\n As when the cloudless lamp of day\n Pours out its flood of light and joy,\n And sweeps the lingering mist away.\n\n\n7 L. M.\n Hold fast the form of sound words.\n 2 Tim. 1:13.\n\n God's law demands one living faith,\n Not a gaunt crowd of lifeless creeds;\n Its warrant is a firm \"God saith;\"\n Its claim, not words, but living deeds.\n\n 2 Yet, Lord, forgive; thy simple law\n Grows tarnished in our earthly grasp;\n Pure in itself, without a flaw,\n It dims in our too-worldly clasp.\n\n 3 We handle it with unwashed hands;\n We stain it with unhallowed breath;\n We gloss it with device of man's,\n And hide thine image underneath.\n\n 4 Forgive the sacrilege, and take\n From off our souls th' unworthy stain;\n And show us, for thy Son's dear sake\n Thy pure and perfect law again.\n\n\n8 L. P. M.\n The entrance of thy word giveth light.\n Psalm 119:130.\n\n I love the volume of thy word;\n What light and joy those leaves afford\n To souls benighted and distressed!\n Thy precepts guide my doubtful way,\n Thy fear forbids my feet to stray,\n Thy promise leads my heart to rest.\n\n 2 Thy threatenings wake my slumbering eyes,\n And warn me where my danger lies;\n But 'tis thy blessed gospel, Lord,\n That makes my guilty conscience clean,\n Converts my soul, subdues my sin,\n And gives a free, but large reward.\n\n 3 Who knows the errors of his thoughts?\n My God, forgive my secret faults,\n And from presumptuous sins restrain;\n Accept my poor attempts of praise,\n That I have read thy book of grace,\n And book of nature, not in vain.\n\n\n9 C. M.\n Thy word is a lamp.\n Psalm 119:105.\n\n How precious is the book divine,\n By inspiration given!\n Bright as a lamp its precepts shine,\n To guide our souls to heaven.\n\n 2 It sweetly cheers our drooping hearts\n In this dark vale of tears;\n Life, light, and joy, it still imparts,\n And quells our rising fears.\n\n 3 This lamp, through all the tedious night\n Of life, shall guide our way,\n Till we behold the clearer light\n Of an eternal day.\n\n\n10 C. M.\n Thy testimonies are my delight.\n Psalm 119:24.\n\n Father of Mercies! in thy word\n What endless glory shines!\n For ever be thine name adored\n For these celestial lines!\n\n 2 Here may the wretched sons of want\n Exhaustless riches find;\n Riches above what earth can grant,\n And lasting as the mind.\n\n 3 Here the fair tree of knowledge grows,\n And yields a rich repast:\n Sublimer sweets than nature knows\n Invite the longing taste.\n\n 4 Here springs of consolation rise\n To cheer the fainting mind,\n And thirsty souls receive supplies,\n And sweet refreshment find.\n\n 5 Here the Redeemer's welcome voice,\n Spreads heavenly peace around;\n And life and everlasting joys\n Attend the blissful sound.\n\n 6 O may these heavenly pages be\n My ever dear delight;\n And still new beauties may I see,\n And still increasing light.\n\n 7 Divine Instructor! gracious Lord,\n Be thou for ever near;\n Teach me to love thy sacred word,\n And view my Saviour there!\n\n\n11 C. M.\n A light unto my path.\n Psalm 119:105.\n\n What glory gilds the sacred page,\n Majestic like the sun!\n It gives a light to every age--\n It gives but borrows none.\n\n 2 The hand that gave it, still supplies\n His gracious light and heat;\n His truths upon the nations rise--\n They rise, but never set.\n\n 3 Let everlasting thanks be thine\n For such a bright display,\n As makes the world of darkness shine\n With beams of heavenly day.\n\n 4 My soul rejoices to pursue\n The paths of truth and love,\n Till glory breaks upon my view\n In brighter worlds above.\n\n\n12 C. M.\n Thy law is my delight.\n Psalm 119:174.\n\n Lord, I have made thy word my choice,\n My lasting heritage;\n There shall my noblest powers rejoice,\n My warmest thoughts engage.\n\n 2 I'll read the histories of thy love,\n And keep thy laws in sight;\n While through the promises I rove,\n With ever fresh delight.\n\n 3 'Tis a broad land, of wealth unknown,\n Where springs of life arise,\n Seeds of immortal bliss are sown,\n And hidden glory lies.\n\n 4 The best relief that mourners have;\n It makes our sorrows blest;\n Our fairest hope beyond the grave,\n And our eternal rest.\n\n\n13 C. M.\n Revelation welcomed.\n\n Hail, sacred truth! whose piercing rays\n Dispel the shades of night,\n Diffusing o'er a sinful world\n The healing beams of light.\n\n 2 Thy word, O Lord, with friendly aid,\n Restores our wandering feet,\n Converts the sorrows of the mind\n To joys divinely sweet.\n\n 3 O, send thy light and truth abroad,\n In all their radiant blaze;\n And bid the admiring world adore\n The glories of thy grace.\n\n\n14 C. M.\n O, how I love thy law.\n Psalm 119:97.\n\n O how I love thy holy law!\n 'Tis daily my delight;\n And thence my meditations draw\n Divine advice by night.\n\n 2 I wake before the dawn of day,\n To meditate thy word;\n My soul with longing melts away,\n To bear thy gospel, Lord.\n\n 3 How doth thy word my heart engage,\n How well employ my tongue;\n And in my tiresome pilgrimage,\n Yields me a heavenly song.\n\n 4 When nature sinks, and spirits droop,\n Thy promises of grace\n Are pillars to support my hope,\n And there I write thy praise.\n\n\n15 C. M.\n Wherewithal shall a young man, etc.\n Psalm 119:9.\n\n How shall the young secure their hearts,\n And guard their lives from sin?\n Thy word the choicest rules imparts\n To keep the conscience clean.\n\n 2 'Tis like the sun, a heavenly light,\n That guides us all the day,\n And through the dangers of the night,\n A lamp to lead our way.\n\n 3 Thy precepts make us truly wise;\n We hate the sinner's road;\n We hate our own vain thoughts that rise,\n But love the law, O God.\n\n 4 Thy word is everlasting truth;\n How pure is every page!\n That holy book shall guide our youth\n And well support our age.\n\n\n16 C. M.\n Word of the everlasting God.\n\n Lamp of our feet! whereby we trace\n Our path when wont to stray;\n Stream from the fount of heavenly grace!\n Brook by the traveler's way!\n\n 2 Bread of our souls, whereon we feed!\n True manna from on high!\n Our guide and chart! wherein we read\n Of realms beyond the sky.\n\n 3 Pillar of fire through watches dark,\n And radiant cloud by day!\n When waves would whelm our tossing bark,\n Our anchor and our stay!\n\n 4 Word of the everlasting God!\n Will of his glorious Son!\n Without thee how could earth be trod,\n Or heaven itself be won?\n\n\n17 C. M.\n Quicken me according to thy word.\n Psalm 119:25.\n\n O Lord, thy precepts I survey:\n I keep thy law in sight,\n Through all the business of the day,\n To form my actions right.\n\n 2 My heart in midnight silence cries,\n \"How sweet thy comforts be!\"\n My thoughts in holy wonder rise,\n And bring their thanks to thee.\n\n\n18 S. M.\n The law of the Lord is perfect.\n Psalm 19:7.\n\n O Lord, thy perfect word\n Directs our steps aright;\n Nor can all other books afford\n Such profit or delight.\n\n 2 Celestial light it sheds\n To cheer this vale below;\n To distant lands its glory spreads,\n And streams of mercy flow.\n\n 3 True wisdom it imparts;\n Commands our hope and fear:\n O may we hide it in our hearts,\n And feel its influence there!\n\n\n19 S. M.\n The books of nature and Scripture.\n\n Behold! the lofty sky\n Declares its maker, God;\n And all his starry works, on high,\n Proclaim his power abroad.\n\n 2 The darkness and the light\n Still keep their course the same;\n While night to day, and day to night,\n Divinely teach his name.\n\n 3 In every different land,\n Their general voice is known;\n They show the wonders of his hand,\n And orders of his throne.\n\n 4 Ye Christian lands! rejoice;\n Here he reveals his word;\n We are not left to nature's voice,\n To bid us know the Lord.\n\n\n20 7s.\n My Bible.\n\n My Bible! book divine!\n Precious treasure! thou art mine:\n Mine to tell me whence I came;\n Mine to teach me what I am;\n\n 2 Mine to chide me when I rove;\n Mine to show a Saviour's love;\n Mine thou art to guide and guard;\n Mine to punish or reward;\n\n 3 Mine to comfort in distress,\n Suffering in this wilderness;\n Mine to show, by living faith,\n Man can triumph over death;\n\n 4 Mine to tell of joys to come,\n And the rebel sinner's doom:\n O thou holy book divine!\n Precious treasure thou art mine!\n\n\n21 8s, 7 & 4.\n Book of grace.\n\n Book of grace, and book of glory!\n Gift of God to age and youth;\n Wondrous in thy sacred story,\n Bright, bright with truth.\n\n 2 Book of love! in accents tender,\n Speaking unto such as we;\n May it lead us, Lord, to render\n All, all to thee.\n\n 3 Book of hope! the spirit sighing,\n Consolation finds in thee;\n As it hears the Saviour crying--\n \"Come, come to me.\"\n\n 4 Book of life! when we reposing,\n Bid farewell to friends we love\n Give us for the life then closing,\n Life, life above.\n\n\n22 P. M.\n The word more precious than gold.\n\n Precious Bible! what a treasure\n Does the word of God afford!\n All I want for life or pleasure,\n Food and med'cine, shield and sword:\n Let the world account me poor,\n Having this I need no more.\n\n 2 Food to which the world's a stranger,\n Here my hungry soul enjoys;\n Of excess there is no danger--\n Though it fills, it never cloys:\n On a dying Christ I feed,\n He is meat and drink indeed!\n\n 3 When my faith is faint and sickly,\n Or when Satan wounds my mind;\n Cordials to revive me quickly,\n Healing med'cines here I find:\n To the promises I flee,\n Each affords a remedy.\n\n 4 In the hour of dark temptation,\n Satan can not make me yield;\n For the word of consolation\n Is to me a mighty shield:\n While the scripture truths are sure,\n From his malice I'm secure.\n\n 5 Vain his threats to overcome me,\n When I take the Spirit's sword;\n Then, with ease, I drive him from me;\n Satan trembles at the word:\n 'Tis a sword for conquest made,\n Keen the edge, and strong the blade.\n\n 6 Shall I envy, then, the miser,\n Doating on his golden store?\n Sure I am, or should be, wiser;\n I am rich--'tis he is poor:\n Jesus gives me in his word,\n Food and med'cine, shield and sword.\n\n\n23 12s & 11s.\n The family Bible.\n\n How painfully pleasing the fond recollection\n Of youthful connections and innocent joy,\n When blessed with parental advice and affection,\n Surrounded with mercies--with peace from on high!\n I still view the chairs of my father and mother,\n The seats of their offspring as ranged on each hand;\n And that richest of books which excelled every other,\n The family Bible that lay on the stand:\n The old-fashioned Bible, the dear blessed Bible,\n The family Bible that lay on the stand.\n\n 2 That Bible, the volume of God's inspiration,\n At morn and at evening could yield us delight;\n And the prayer of our sire was a sweet invocation\n For mercy by day and for safety through night;\n Our hymn of thanksgiving with harmony swelling,\n All warm from the heart of the family band,\n Has raised us from earth to that rapturous dwelling\n Described in the Bible that lay on the stand:\n The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible,\n The family Bible that lay on the stand.\n\n 3 Ye scenes of tranquillity, long have we parted,\n My hopes almost gone, and my parents no more:\n In sorrow and sadness I live broken-hearted,\n And wander unknown on a far distant shore;\n Yet how can I doubt a dear Saviour's protection,\n Forgetful of gifts from his bountiful hand!\n O let me with patience receive his correction,\n And think of the Bible that lay on the stand:\n The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed Bible,\n The family Bible that lay on the stand.\n\n\n\n\n GOD: HIS BEING AND PERFECTIONS.\n\n\n24 L. M.\n Great is the Lord.\n\n Praise ye the Lord! 'tis good to raise\n Our hearts and voices in his praise:\n His nature and his works invite\n To make this duty our delight.\n\n 2 Great is the Lord! and great his might,\n And all his glories infinite:\n His wisdom vast, and knows no bound;\n A deep where all our thoughts are drowned.\n\n 3 He loves the meek, rewards the just,\n Humbles the wicked in the dust,\n Melts and subdues the stubborn soul,\n And makes the broken spirit whole.\n\n 4 His saints are precious in his sight;\n He views his children with delight;\n He sees their hope, he knows their fear,\n Approves and loves his image there.\n\n\n25 L. M.\n Eternity of God.\n\n Ere mountains reared their forms sublime,\n Or heaven and earth in order stood--\n Before the birth of ancient time,\n From everlasting thou art God.\n\n 2 A thousand ages, in their flight,\n With thee are as a fleeting day;\n Past, present, future, to thy sight\n At once their various scenes display.\n\n 3 But our brief life's a shadowy dream,\n A passing thought, that soon is o'er,\n That fades with morning's earliest beam,\n And fills the musing mind no more.\n\n 4 To us, O Lord, the wisdom give\n Each passing moment so to spend,\n That we at length with thee may live,\n Where life and bliss shall never end.\n\n\n26 L. M.\n \"How unsearchable are thy judgments.\"\n Rom. 11:33.\n\n Lord, my weak thought in vain would climb\n To search the starry vault profound:\n In vain would wing her flight sublime,\n To find creation's outmost bound.\n\n 2 But weaker yet that thought must prove\n To search thy great eternal plan--\n Thy sovereign counsels, born of love\n Long ages ere the world began.\n\n 3 When my dim reason would demand\n Why that, or this, thou dost ordain,\n By some vast deep I seem to stand,\n Whose secrets I must ask in vain.\n\n 4 When doubts disturb my troubled breast,\n And all is dark as night to me,\n Here, as on solid rock, I rest;\n That so it seemeth good to thee.\n\n 5 Be this my joy, that evermore\n Thou rulest all things at thy will:\n Thy sovereign wisdom I adore,\n And calmly, sweetly trust thee still.\n\n\n27 L. M.\n Omnipresence of God.\n\n Father of spirits! nature's God,\n Our inmost thoughts are known to thee:\n Thou, Lord, canst hear each idle word,\n And every private action see.\n\n 2 Could we, on morning's swiftest wings,\n Pursue our flight through trackless air,\n Or dive beneath deep ocean's springs,\n Thy presence still would meet us there.\n\n 3 In vain may guilt attempt to fly,\n Concealed beneath the pall of night:\n One glance from thy all-piercing eye,\n Can kindle darkness into light.\n\n 4 Search thou our hearts, and there destroy\n Each evil thought, each secret sin,\n And fit us for those realms of joy\n Where naught impure shall enter in.\n\n\n28 L. M.\n The Lord reigneth.\n Psalm 96:10.\n\n Jehovah reigns; his throne is high;\n His robes are light and majesty;\n His glory shines with beams so bright\n No mortal can sustain the sight.\n\n 2 His terrors keep the world in awe;\n His justice guards his holy law;\n His love reveals a smiling face.\n His truth and promise seal the grace.\n\n 3 Through all his works his wisdom shines,\n And baffles Satan's deep designs;\n His power is sovereign to fulfill\n The noblest counsels of his will.\n\n 4 And will this glorious Lord descend\n To be my father and my friend?\n Then let my songs with angels join;\n Heaven is secure, if God be mine.\n\n\n29 L. M.\n Psalm 100.\n\n With one consent let all the earth\n To God their cheerful voices raise;\n Glad homage pay, with awful mirth,\n And sing before him songs of praise:\n\n 2 Convinced that he is God alone,\n From whom both we and all proceed;\n We, whom he chooses for his own,\n The flock that he vouchsafes to keep.\n\n 3 O, enter, then, his temple gate,\n Thence to his courts devoutly press;\n And still your grateful hymns repeat,\n And still his name with praises bless.\n\n 4 For he's the Lord supremely good,\n His mercy is for ever sure;\n His truth, which always firmly stood,\n To endless ages shall endure.\n\n\n30 L. M.\n Of him are all things.\n Rom. 11:36.\n\n O source divine, and life of all,\n The fount of being's wondrous sea!\n Thy depth would every heart appall,\n That saw not love supreme in thee.\n\n 2 We shrink before thy vast abyss,\n Where worlds on worlds eternal brood;\n We know thee truly but in this--\n That thou bestowest all our good.\n\n 3 And so, 'mid boundless time and space,\n O grant us still in thee to dwell,\n And through the ceaseless web to trace\n Thy presence working all things well!\n\n\n31 L. M.\n In him we live and move.\n Acts 17:28.\n\n Unchangeable, all-perfect Lord!\n Essential life's unbounded sea!\n What lives and moves, lives by thy word;\n It lives, and moves, and is, from thee!\n Whate'er in earth, or sea, or sky,\n Or shuns, or meets, the wandering thought,\n Escapes, or strikes, the searching eye,\n By thee was to existence brought.\n\n 2 High is thy power above all hight;\n Whate'er thy will decrees is done:\n Thy wisdom, holiness and might\n Can by no finite mind be known.\n What our dim eyes could never see,\n Is plain and naked in thy sight;\n What thickest darkness vails, to thee\n Shines clearly as the morning light.\n\n 3 Thine, Lord, is holiness, alone:\n Justice and truth before thee stand:\n Yet, nearer to thy sacred throne,\n Love ever dwells at thy right hand.\n And to thy love and ceaseless care,\n Father! this light, this breath, we owe;\n And all we have, and all we are,\n From thee, great source of life! doth flow.\n\n\n32 L. M.\n The all-seeing God.\n\n Lord, thou hast searched and seen me thro';\n Thine eye commands with piercing view\n My rising and my resting hours,\n My heart and flesh with all their powers.\n\n 2 My thoughts, before they are my own,\n Are to my God distinctly known;\n He knows the words I mean to speak,\n Ere from my opening lips they break.\n\n 3 Within thy circling power I stand;\n On every side I find thy hand:\n Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,\n I am surrounded still with God.\n\n 4 Amazing knowledge, vast and great!\n What large extent! what lofty hight!\n My soul, with all the powers I boast,\n Is in the boundless prospect lost.\n\n\n33 L. M.\n Psalm 139.\n\n Lord, thou hast formed mine every part,\n Mine inmost thought is known to thee;\n Each word, each feeling of my heart,\n Thine ear doth hear, thine eye doth see.\n\n 2 Though I should seek the shades of night,\n And hide myself in guilty fear,\n To thee the darkness seems as light,\n The midnight as the noonday clear.\n\n 3 The heavens, the earth, the sea, the sky,\n All own thee ever present there;\n Where'er I turn, thou still art nigh,\n Thy Spirit dwelling everywhere.\n\n 4 O may that Spirit, ever blest,\n Upon my soul in radiance shine,\n Till welcomed to eternal rest,\n I taste thy presence, Lord, divine!\n\n\n34 L. M. 6 lines\n God praised in all his works.\n\n Thou art, O Lord, the boundless source,\n Whence all our thousand blessings flow;\n And nature, through her endless course,\n Proclaims thy love to all below;\n While all above join in the strain\n Of ceaseless praises to thy name.\n\n 2 The sun on golden chariot rides,\n And sends to earth his rays of light;\n While darkness from his brightness hides,\n And vanishes from human sight;\n This sunlight, when it comes to earth,\n Declares thy goodness gave it birth.\n\n 3 The moon and stars, that rule at night,\n And smile upon this world of wrong,\n Bear on each trembling chord of light\n The notes of this sweet, sacred song;\n \"Thou, Lord, didst make all things that move;\n All are the creatures of thy love.\"\n\n 4 Then help my poor, unworthy heart\n To join aloud in nature's praise;\n And may my song, in every part,\n Proclaim the wonders of thy ways;\n And when I reach the heavenly plains,\n I'll sing thy love in nobler strains.\n\n\n35 C. M.\n Lord, thou hast searched me, etc.\n Psalm 139:1.\n\n Lord, all I am is known to thee;\n In vain my soul would try\n To shun thy presence, or to flee\n The notice of thine eye.\n\n 2 Thy all-observing eye surveys\n My rising and my rest,\n My public walks, my private ways,\n The secrets of my breast.\n\n 3 My thoughts lie open to thee, Lord,\n Before they're formed within,\n And ere my lips pronounce the word,\n Thou knowest all I mean.\n\n 4 O let thine arms surround me still,\n And like a bulwark prove,\n To guard my soul from every ill,\n Secured by sovereign love.\n\n\n36 C. M.\n Holy, holy, holy Lord.\n\n O God, we praise thee, and confess\n That thou the only Lord\n And everlasting Father art,\n By all the earth adored.\n\n 2 To thee all angels cry aloud,\n To thee the powers on high,\n Both cherubim and seraphim,\n Continually do cry--\n\n 3 O holy, holy, holy Lord,\n When heavenly hosts obey;\n The world is with the glory filled\n Of thy majestic sway.\n\n 4 The apostles' glorious company,\n The prophets crowned with light,\n With all the martyrs' noble host,\n Thy constant praise recite.\n\n 5 The holy Church, throughout the world,\n O Lord, confesses thee,\n That thou th' eternal Father art\n Of boundless majesty.\n\n\n37 C. M.\n His praise endureth for ever.\n Psalm 111:10.\n\n Songs of immortal praise belong\n To my Almighty God;\n He has my heart, and he my tongue,\n To spread his name abroad.\n\n 2 How great the works his hand has wrought;\n How glorious in our sight;\n And men in every age have sought\n His wonders with delight.\n\n 3 How most exact is nature's frame,\n How wise the Eternal mind;\n His counsels never change the scheme\n That his first thoughts designed.\n\n 4 When he redeemed his chosen sons,\n He fixed his covenant sure;\n The orders that his lips pronounce\n To endless years endure.\n\n\n38 C. M.\n O God, my heart is fixed.\n Psalm 57:7.\n\n O God! my heart is fully bent\n To magnify thy name;\n My tongue, with cheerful songs of praise,\n Shall celebrate thy fame.\n\n 2 Be thou, O God! exalted high\n Above the starry frame;\n And let the world, with one consent\n Confess thy glorious name.\n\n\n39 C. M.\n The Infinite One.\n\n Great God! how infinite art thou,\n What worthless worms are we;\n Let the whole race of creatures bow,\n And pay their praise to thee.\n\n 2 Thy throne eternal ages stood,\n Ere seas or stars were made:\n Thou art the ever-living God,\n Were all the nations dead.\n\n 3 Our lives through various scenes are drawn,\n And vexed with trifling cares;\n While thine eternal thoughts move on\n Thine undisturbed affairs.\n\n 4 Great God! how infinite art thou,\n What worthless worms are we;\n Let the whole race of creatures bow,\n And pay their praise to Thee.\n\n\n40 C. M.\n He trieth the reins.\n Psalm 7:9.\n\n Great God! thy penetrating eye\n Pervades my inmost powers;\n With awe profound my wondering soul\n Falls prostrate and adores.\n\n 2 To be encompassed round with God,\n The Holy and the Just,\n Armed with omnipotence to save,\n Or crush me to the dust--\n\n 3 O how tremendous is the thought!\n Deep may it be impressed,\n And may thy Spirit firmly 'grave\n This truth within my breast.\n\n 4 Begirt with thee, my fearless soul\n The gloomy vale shall tread;\n And thou wilt bind th' immortal crown\n Of glory on my head.\n\n\n41 11s & 8s.\n The Lord is great.\n\n The Lord is great! ye hosts of heaven adore him,\n And ye who tread this earthly ball;\n In holy songs rejoice aloud before him,\n And shout his praise who made you all.\n\n 2 The Lord is great; his majesty how glorious!\n Resound his praise from shore to shore;\n O'er sin, and death, and hell, now made victorious,\n He rules and reigns for evermore.\n\n 3 The Lord is great; his mercy how abounding!\n Ye angels, strike your golden chords;\n O praise our God, with voice and harp resounding,\n The King of kings and Lord of lords.\n\n\n42 C. P. M.\n The love of God.\n\n My God! Thy boundless love I praise;\n How bright on high its glories blaze!\n How sweetly bloom below!\n It streams from thine eternal throne;\n Through heaven its joys for ever run,\n And o'er the earth they flow.\n\n 2 'Tis love that paints the purple morn,\n And bids the clouds, in air upborne,\n Their genial drops distill;\n In every vernal beam it glows,\n And breathes in every gale that blows,\n And glides in every rill.\n\n 3 But in thy word I see it shine,\n With grace and glories more divine,\n Proclaiming sins forgiven;\n There, Faith, bright cherub, points the way\n To realms of everlasting day,\n And opens all her heaven.\n\n 4 Then let the love, that makes me blest,\n With cheerful praise inspire my breast,\n And ardent gratitude;\n And all my thoughts and passions tend\n To thee, my Father and my Friend,\n My soul's eternal good.\n\n\n\n\n GOD IN CREATION.\n\n\n43 L. M.\n The heavens declare the glory of God.\n Psalm 19:1.\n\n The spacious firmament on high,\n With all the blue ethereal sky,\n And spangled heavens, a shining frame,\n Their great Original proclaim.\n\n 2 Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,\n Does his Creator's power display,\n And publishes to every land\n The work of an almighty hand.\n\n 3 Soon as the evening shades prevail,\n The moon takes up the wondrous tale,\n And nightly to the listening earth\n Repeats the story of her birth:\n\n 4 While all the stars that round her burn,\n And all the planets in their turn,\n Confirm the tidings as they roll,\n And spread the truth from pole to pole,\n\n 5 What though in solemn silence all\n Move round this dark terrestrial ball--\n What though no real voice nor sound\n Amid their radiant orbs be found--\n\n 6 In reason's ear they all rejoice,\n And utter forth a glorious voice;\n For ever singing as they shine,\n The hand that made us is divine!\n\n\n44 L. M.\n He is clothed with majesty.\n Psalm 93:1.\n\n Jehovah reigns: he dwells in light,\n Arrayed with majesty and might;\n The world, created by his hands,\n Still on its firm foundation stands.\n\n 2 But ere this spacious world was made,\n Or had its first foundation laid,\n His throne eternal ages stood,\n Himself the ever-living God.\n\n 3 For ever shall his throne endure;\n His promise stands for ever sure;\n And everlasting holiness\n Becomes the dwellings of his grace.\n\n\n45 L. M.\n All thy works praise thee.\n Psalm 145:10.\n\n Nature, with all her powers shall sing\n God the Creator, and the King;\n Nor air, nor earth, nor skies, nor seas\n Deny the tribute of their praise.\n\n 2 Begin to make his glories known,\n Ye seraphs, who sit near his throne;\n Tune high your harps, and spread the sound\n To the creation's utmost bound.\n\n 3 Thus let our flaming zeal employ\n Our loftiest thoughts, and loudest songs;\n Nations, pronounce with warmest joy\n Hosanna, from ten thousand tongues.\n\n 4 Yet, mighty God, our feeble frame\n Attempts in vain to reach thy name;\n The strongest notes that angels raise\n Faint in the worship and the praise.\n\n\n46 L. M.\n Thy saints shall bless thee.\n Psalm 145:10.\n\n Greatest of beings, source of life;\n Sovereign of air, and earth, and sea!\n All nature feels thy pow'r, and all\n A silent homage pay to thee.\n\n 2 Waked by thy hand, the morning sun\n Pours forth to thee its earlier rays,\n And spreads thy glories as it climbs;\n While raptured worlds look up and praise.\n\n 3 The moon, to the deep shades of night,\n Speaks the mild luster of thy name;\n While all the stars, that cheer the scene,\n Thee, the great Lord of light, proclaim.\n\n 4 And groves and vales, and rocks and hills,\n And every flower, and every tree,\n Ten thousand creatures, warm with life,\n Have each a grateful song for thee.\n\n 5 But man was formed to rise to heaven;\n And, blest with reason's clearer light,\n He views his Maker through his works,\n And glows with rapture at the sight.\n\n 6 Nor can the thousand songs that rise,\n Whether from air, or earth, or sea,\n So well repeat Jehovah's praise,\n Or raise such sacred harmony.\n\n\n47 L. M.\n A hymn of praise.\n\n\n PART FIRST.\n\n Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;\n From realm to realm the notes shall sound,\n And heaven's exulting sons rejoice\n To bear the full hosanna round.\n\n 2 When, starting from the shades of night,\n Obedient, Lord, to thy behest,\n The sun arrayed his limbs in light\n And earth her virgin beauty drest;\n\n 3 Thy praise transported nature sung\n In pealing chorus loud and far;\n The echoing vault with rapture rung,\n And shouted every morning star.\n\n 4 When bending from his native sky,\n The Lord of life in mercy came,\n And laid his bright effulgence by,\n To bear on earth a human name;\n\n 5 The song, by cherub voices raised,\n Rolled through the dark blue depths above,\n And Israel's shepherds heard amazed\n The seraph notes of peace and love.\n\n\n PART SECOND.\n\n And shall not man the concert join,\n For whom this bright creation rose--\n For whom the fires of morning shine\n And eve's still lamps, that woo repose?\n\n 2 And shall not he the chorus swell,\n Whose form the incarnate Godhead wore,\n Whose guilt, whose fears, whose triumph tell\n How deep the wounds his Saviour bore?\n\n 3 Long as yon glittering arch shall bend,\n Long as yon orbs in glory roll,\n Long as the streams of life descend\n To cheer with hope the fainting soul,\n\n 4 Thy praise shall fill each grateful voice,\n Shall bid the song of rapture sound;\n And heaven's exulting sons rejoice\n To bear the full hosanna round.\n\n\n48 L. M.\n Praise of God peculiarly due from man.\n\n There seems a voice in every gale,\n A tongue in every opening flower,\n Which tells, O Lord! the wondrous tale\n Of thy indulgence, love, and power.\n\n 2 The birds that rise on soaring wing\n Appear to hymn their Maker's praise,\n And all the mingling sounds of spring\n To thee a general paean raise.\n\n 3 And shall my voice, great God, alone\n Be mute 'midst nature's loud acclaim?\n No; let my heart with answering tone\n Breathe forth in praise thy holy name.\n\n 4 And nature's debt is small to mine;\n Thou bad'st her being bounded be,\n But--matchless proof of love divine--\n Thou gav'st immortal life to me.\n\n\n49 L. M. 6 lines\n God the fountain of being, etc.\n\n Thou art, O God, the life and light\n Of all the wondrous world we see;\n Its glow by day, its smile by night,\n Are but reflections caught from thee;\n Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,\n And all things fair and bright are thine.\n\n 2 When day, with farewell beam, delays\n Among the opening clouds of even,\n And we can almost think we gaze,\n Through opening vistas, into heaven--\n Those hues that mark the sun's decline,\n So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine.\n\n 3 When night, with wings of starry gloom,\n O'ershadows all the earth and skies,\n Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume\n Is sparkling with unnumbered dyes--\n That sacred gloom, those fires divine,\n So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.\n\n 4 When youthful Spring around us breathes,\n Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh;\n And every flower that Summer wreathes\n Is born beneath thy kindling eye;\n Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,\n And all things fair and bright are thine.\n\n\n50 C. M.\n God seen in all his works.\n\n I sing th' almighty power of God,\n That made the mountains rise,\n That spread the flowing seas abroad,\n And built the lofty skies.\n\n 2 I sing the wisdom that ordained\n The sun to rule the day;\n The moon shines full at his command,\n And all the stars obey.\n\n 3 I sing the goodness of the Lord,\n That filled the earth with food;\n He formed the creatures with his word,\n And then pronounced them good.\n\n 4 Lord! how thy wonders are displayed,\n Where'er I turn my eye!\n If I survey the ground I tread,\n Or gaze upon the sky!\n\n 5 There's not a plant or flower below\n But makes thy glories known;\n And clouds arise, and tempests blow,\n By order from thy throne.\n\n 6 Creatures that borrow life from thee\n Are subject to thy care;\n There's not a place where we can flee\n But God is present there.\n\n\n51 C. M.\n Bless the Lord, all his works.\n Psalm 103:22.\n\n Praise ye the Lord, immortal choir!\n In heavenly hights above,\n With harp, and voice, and soul of fire,\n Burning with perfect love.\n\n 2 Shine to his glory, worlds of light!\n Ye million suns of space;\n Ye moon and glittering stars of night,\n Running your mystic race.\n\n 3 Shout to Jehovah, surging main!\n In deep eternal roar;\n Let wave to wave resound the strain,\n And shore reply to shore.\n\n 4 Storm, lightning, thunder, hail and snow,\n Wild winds that keep his word,\n With the old mountains far below,\n Unite to bless the Lord.\n\n 5 And round the wide world let it roll,\n Whilst man shall lead it on;\n Join, every ransomed human soul,\n In glorious unison.\n\n\n52 C. M.\n God seen in his works.\n\n There's not a tint that paints the rose\n Or decks the lily fair,\n Or streaks the humblest flower that blows,\n But God has placed it there.\n\n 2 There's not a star whose twinkling light\n Illumes the distant earth,\n And cheers the solemn gloom of night\n But goodness gave it birth.\n\n 3 There's not a cloud whose dews distill\n Upon the parching clod,\n And clothe with verdure vale and hill,\n That is not sent by God.\n\n 4 There's not a place in earth's vast round,\n In ocean deep, or air,\n Where skill and wisdom are not found;\n For God is everywhere.\n\n 5 Around, beneath, below, above,\n Wherever space extends,\n There heaven displays its boundless love,\n And power with goodness blends.\n\n\n53 C. M.\n Praise him in the firmament of his power.\n Psalm 150:1.\n\n Begin my soul the lofty strain,\n In solemn accents sing\n A sacred hymn of grateful praise\n To heaven's almighty King.\n\n 2 Ye curling fountains, as ye roll\n Your silver waves along,\n Whisper to all your verdant shores\n The subject of my song.\n\n 3 Retain it long, ye echoing rocks\n The sacred sound retain,\n And from your hollow winding caves\n Return it oft again.\n\n 4 Bear it, ye winds, on all your wings,\n To distant climes away,\n And round the wide-extended world\n The lofty theme convey.\n\n 5 Take the glad burden of his name,\n Ye clouds, as you arise,\n Whether to deck the golden morn\n Or shade the evening skies.\n\n 6 Whilst we, with sacred rapture fired,\n The great Creator sing,\n And utter consecrated lays\n To heaven's eternal King.\n\n\n54 C. M. D.\n The hymn of the seasons.\n\n The heavenly spheres to thee, O God,\n Attune their evening hymn;\n All-wise, all-holy, thou art praised\n In song of seraphim.\n Unnumbered systems, suns, and worlds,\n Unite to worship thee,\n While thy majestic greatness fills\n Space, time, eternity.\n\n 2 Nature, a temple worthy thee,\n Beams with thy light and love;\n Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below,\n Whose stars rejoice above;\n Whose altars are the mountain cliffs\n That rise along the shore;\n Whose anthems, the sublime accord\n Of storm and ocean roar.\n\n 3 Her song of gratitude is sung\n By spring's awakening hours;\n Her summer offers at thy shrine\n Its earliest, loveliest flowers;\n Her autumn brings its golden fruits,\n In glorious luxury given;\n While winter's silver hights reflect\n Thy brightness back to heaven.\n\n\n55 C. H. M.\n The ineffable glory of God.\n\n Since o'er thy footstool here below\n Such radiant gems are strewn,\n O, what magnificence must glow,\n Great God, about thy throne!\n So brilliant here these drops of light--\n There the full ocean rolls, how bright!\n\n 2 If night's blue curtain of the sky--\n With thousand stars inwrought,\n Hung like a royal canopy\n With glittering diamonds fraught--\n Be, Lord, thy temple's outer vail,\n What splendor at the shrine must dwell!\n\n 3 The dazzling sun at noonday hour--\n Forth from his flaming vase\n Flinging o'er earth the golden shower\n Till vale and mountain blaze--\n But shows, Lord, one beam of thine;\n What, then, the day where thou dost shine!\n\n 4 O, how shall these dim eyes endure\n That noon of living rays!\n Or how our spirits, so impure,\n Upon thy glory gaze!\n Anoint, Lord, anoint our sight,\n And fit us for that world of light.\n\n\n56 S. M.\n The Lord Jehovah reigns.\n\n The Lord Jehovah reigns,\n Let all the nations fear;\n Let sinners tremble at his throne,\n And saints be humble there.\n\n 2 Jesus, the Saviour, reigns;\n Let earth adore its Lord;\n Bright cherubs his attendants wait,\n Swift to fulfill his word.\n\n 3 In Zion stands his throne;\n His honors are divine;\n His church shall make his wonders known,\n For there his glories shine.\n\n 4 How holy is his name!\n How fearful is his praise!\n Justice, and truth, and judgment join\n In all the works of grace.\n\n\n57 S. P. M.\n Jehovah reigns.\n\n The Lord Jehovah reigns,\n And royal state maintains,\n His head with awful glories crowned;\n Arrayed in robes of light,\n Begirt with sovereign might,\n And rays of majesty around.\n\n 2 Upheld by thy commands,\n The world securely stands,\n And skies and stars obey thy word:\n Thy throne was fixed on high\n Before the starry sky:\n Eternal is thy kingdom, Lord!\n\n 3 Thy promises are true;\n Thy grace is ever new;\n There fixed, thy church shall ne'er remove:\n Thy saints, with holy fear,\n Shall in thy courts appear,\n And sing thine everlasting love.\n\n\n58 7s.\n Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.\n Psalm 150.\n\n Praise the Lord, his glories show,\n Saints within his courts below,\n Angels round his throne above,\n All that see and share his love!\n\n 2 Earth to heaven, and heaven to earth,\n Tell his wonders, sing his worth;\n Age to age, and shore to shore,\n Praise him, praise him, evermore!\n\n 3 Praise the Lord, his mercies trace;\n Praise his providence and grace--\n All that he for man hath done,\n All he sends us through his Son.\n\n 4 Strings and voices, hands and hearts,\n In the concert bear your parts:\n All that breathe, your Lord adore;\n Praise him, praise him, evermore!\n\n\n59 7s, double.\n Source of being, source of light.\n\n Source of being, source of light,\n With unfading beauties bright;\n Thee, when morning greets the skies,\n Blushing sweet with humid eyes;\n Thee, when soft declining day\n Sinks, in purple waves away;\n Thee, O Parent, will I sing,\n To thy feet my tribute bring!\n\n 2 Yonder azure vault on high,\n Yonder blue, low, liquid sky;\n Earth, on its firm basis placed,\n And with circling waves embraced;\n All-creating power confess,\n All their mighty Maker bless;\n Shaking nature with thy nod,\n Earth and heaven confess their God,\n\n 3 Father, King, whose heavenly face\n Shines serene upon our race;\n Mindful of thy guardian care,\n Slow to punish, prone to spare;\n We thy majesty adore,\n We thy well-known aid implore;\n Not in vain thy aid we call,\n Nothing want, for thou art all!\n\n\n60 7s.\n All the earth doth worship thee.\n\n God eternal, Lord of all!\n Lowly at thy feet we fall:\n All the earth doth worship thee,\n We amid the throng would be.\n\n 2 All the holy angels cry,\n Hail, thrice holy, God Most High,\n Glorified Apostles raise,\n Night and day, continual praise.\n\n\n61 7s, 6 lines.\n God is love.\n 1 John 4:8.\n\n Earth, with her ten thousand flowers,\n Air, with all its beams and showers,\n Ocean's infinite expanse,\n Heaven's resplendent countenance;\n All around, and all above,\n Hath this record--God is love.\n\n 2 Sounds among the vales and hills,\n In the woods and by the rills,\n Of the breeze and of the bird,\n By the gentle murmur stirred;\n All these songs, beneath, above,\n Have one burden--God is love.\n\n 3 All the hopes and fears that start\n From the fountain of the heart;\n All the quiet bliss that lies\n In our human sympathies;\n These are voices from above,\n Sweetly whispering--God is love.\n\n\n\n\n GOD: IN PROVIDENCE.\n\n\n62 L. M.\n Grace and glory.\n\n The Almighty reigns exalted high\n O'er all the earth, o'er all the sky;\n Though clouds and darkness vail his feet,\n His dwelling is the mercy-seat.\n\n 2 O ye that love his holy name,\n Hate every work of sin and shame;\n He guards the souls of all his friends,\n And from the snares of hell defends.\n\n 3 Immortal light and joys unknown\n Are for the saints in darkness sown;\n Those glorious seeds shall spring and rise,\n And the bright harvest bless our eyes.\n\n 4 Rejoice, ye righteous, and record\n The sacred honors of the Lord;\n None but the soul that feels his grace\n Can triumph in his holiness.\n\n\n63 L. M.\n God in all.\n\n There's nothing bright, above, below,\n From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,\n But in its light my soul can see\n Some features of the Deity.\n\n 2 There's nothing dark below, above,\n But in its gloom I trace thy love,\n And meekly wait the moment when\n Thy touch shall make all bright again.\n\n 3 The light, the dark, where'er I look,\n Shall be one pure and shining book,\n Where I may read, in words of flame,\n The glories of thy wondrous name.\n\n\n64 L. M.\n Be thou exalted, O my God.\n\n My God, in whom are all the springs\n Of boundless love and grace unknown,\n Hide me beneath thy spreading wings,\n Till the dark cloud is overblown.\n\n 2 Up to the heavens I send my cry,\n The Lord will my desires perform;\n He sends his angels from the sky,\n And saves me from the threatening storm,\n\n 3 My heart is fixed: my song shall raise\n Immortal honors to thy name;\n Awake, my tongue, to sound his praise,\n My tongue, the glory of my frame.\n\n 4 High o'er earth his mercy reigns,\n And reaches to the utmost sky;\n His truth to endless years remains,\n When lower worlds dissolve and die.\n\n 5 Be thou exalted, O my God!\n Above the heavens where angels dwell;\n Thy power on earth be known abroad,\n And land to land thy wonders tell.\n\n\n65 L. M.\n Unchanging trust.\n\n No change of time shall ever shock\n My firm affection, Lord, to thee;\n For thou hast always been my rock,\n A fortress and defense to me.\n\n 2 Thou my deliverer art, my God;\n My trust is in thy mighty power;\n Thou art my shield from foes abroad--\n At home my safeguard and my tower.\n\n 3 To thee I will address my prayer,\n To whom all praise I justly owe;\n So shall I by thy watchful care,\n Be guarded from my treacherous foe.\n\n\n66 L. M.\n God ever near.\n\n O love divine, that stooped to share\n Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear,\n On thee is cast each earth-born care,\n We smile at pain while thou art near!\n\n 2 Though long the weary way we tread,\n And sorrow crown each lingering year,\n No path we shun, no darkness dread,\n Our hearts still whispering thou art near!\n\n 3 When drooping pleasure turns to grief,\n And trembling faith is changed to fear,\n The murmuring wind, the quivering leaf,\n Shall softly tell us, thou art near!\n\n 4 On thee we fling our burdening woe,\n O love divine, for ever dear,\n Content to suffer while we know,\n Living and dying, thou art near!\n\n\n67 L. M.\n Contentment.\n Phil. 4:11.\n\n O Lord, how full of sweet content\n My years of pilgrimage are spent!\n Where'er I dwell, I dwell with thee,\n In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.\n\n 2 To me remains nor place nor time;\n My country is in every clime:\n I can be calm and free from care\n On any shore, since God is there.\n\n 3 While place I seek, or place I shun,\n The soul finds happiness in none;\n But with my God to guide my way,\n 'Tis equal joy to go or stay.\n\n 4 Could I be cast where thou art not,\n That were indeed a dreadful lot;\n But regions none remote I call,\n Secure of finding God in all.\n\n\n68 L. M. 6 lines.\n Thy will be done.\n\n He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower;\n Alike they're needful for the flower;\n And joys and tears alike are sent\n To give the soul fit nourishment:\n As comes to me or cloud or sun,\n Father, thy will, not mine, be done!\n\n 2 Can loving children e'er reprove\n With murmurs whom they trust and love?\n Creator, I would ever be\n A trusting, loving child to thee:\n As comes to me or cloud or sun,\n Father, thy will, not mine, be done!\n\n 3 O ne'er will I at life repine!\n Enough that thou hast made it mine;\n When fall the shadow cold of death,\n I yet will sing, with parting breath--\n As comes to me or shade or sun,\n Father, thy will, not mine, be done!\n\n\n69 L. M.\n The wisdom of God.\n\n Wait, O my soul, thy Maker's will;\n Tumultuous passions, all be still!\n Nor let a murmuring thought arise;\n His ways are just, his counsels wise.\n\n 2 He in the thickest darkness dwells,\n Performs his work, the cause conceals;\n But, though his methods are unknown,\n Judgment and truth support his throne.\n\n 3 In heaven, and earth, and air, and seas,\n He executes his firm decrees;\n And by his saints it stands confest,\n That what he does is ever best.\n\n 4 Wait then, my soul, submissive wait,\n Prostrate before his awful seat;\n And, 'midst the terrors of his rod,\n Trust in a wise and gracious God.\n\n\n70 L. M. 6 lines.\n Psalm 23.\n\n The Lord my pasture shall prepare,\n And feed me with a shepherd's care;\n His presence shall my wants supply,\n And guard me with a watchful eye:\n My noonday walks he shall attend,\n And all my midnight hours defend.\n\n 2 When in the sultry glebe I faint,\n Or on the thirsty mountains pant,\n To fertile vales and dewy meads\n My weary, wandering steps he leads,\n Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,\n Amid the verdant landscape flow.\n\n 3 Though in a bare and rugged way,\n Through devious, lonely wilds I stray,\n His bounty shall my pains beguile;\n The barren wilderness shall smile,\n With lively greens and herbage crowned,\n And streams shall murmur all around.\n\n 4 Though in the paths of death I tread,\n With gloomy horrors overspread,\n My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,\n For thou, O Lord! art with me still;\n Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,\n And guide me through the dismal shade.\n\n\n71 L. M.\n Who is like unto thee, O Israel?\n Deut. 33:29.\n\n With Israel's God, who can compare?\n Or who, like Israel, happy are?\n O, people saved by the Lord,\n He is our shield and great reward.\n\n 2 Upheld by everlasting arms,\n We are secure from foes and harms;\n In vain their plots, and false their boasts--\n Our refuge is the Lord of hosts!\n\n\n72 L. P. M.\n Psalm 146.\n\n I'll praise my Maker while I've breath,\n And when my voice is lost in death,\n Praise shall employ my nobler powers:\n My days of praise shall ne'er be past,\n While life and thought and being last,\n And immortality endures.\n\n 2 Happy the man whose hopes rely\n On Israel's God: he made the sky,\n And earth, and seas, with all their train.\n His truth for ever stands secure:\n He saves th' oppressed, he feeds the poor,\n And none shall find his promise vain.\n\n 3 The Lord pours eyesight on the blind;\n The Lord supports the fainting mind,\n He sends the laboring conscience peace:\n He helps the stranger in distress,\n The widow and the fatherless,\n And grants the prisoner sweet release.\n\n 4 I'll praise him while he gives me breath,\n And when my voice is lost in death,\n Praise shall employ my nobler powers:\n My days of praise shall ne'er be past,\n While life, and thought, and being last,\n And immortality endures.\n\n\n73 C. M.\n God of Bethel.\n Gen. 20:19-22.\n\n O God of Bethel, by whose hand\n Thy people still are fed;\n Who through this weary pilgrimage\n Hast all our fathers led--\n\n 2 Our vows, our prayers we now present\n Before thy throne of grace;\n God of our fathers, be the God\n Of their succeeding race.\n\n 3 Through each succeeding path of life,\n Our wandering footsteps guide;\n Give us each day our daily bread,\n And raiment fit provide.\n\n 4 O spread thy covering wings around,\n Till all our wanderings cease,\n And at our Father's loved abode\n Our souls arrive in peace.\n\n\n74 C. M.\n God the trust of his saints.\n\n O thou my light, my life, my joy,\n My glory and my all!\n Unsent by thee, no good can come,\n Nor evil can befall.\n\n 2 Such are thy schemes of providence,\n And methods of thy grace,\n That I may safely trust in thee\n Through all this wilderness.\n\n 3 'Tis thine outstretched and powerful arm\n Upholds me in the way;\n And thy rich bounty well supplies\n The wants of every day,\n\n 4 For such compassion, O my God!\n Ten thousand thanks are due;\n For such compassion I esteem\n Ten thousand thanks too few.\n\n\n75 C. M.\n Our dwelling place in all generations.\n Psalm 90.\n\n Our God, our help in ages past,\n Our hope for years to come,\n Our shelter from the stormy blast,\n And our eternal home!\n\n 2 Under the shadow of thy throne\n Thy saints have dwelt secure:\n Sufficient is thine arm alone,\n And our defense is sure.\n\n 3 Before the hills in order stood,\n Or earth received her frame,\n From everlasting thou art God,\n To endless years the same.\n\n 4 A thousand ages in thy sight\n Are like an evening gone;\n Short as the watch that ends the night\n Before the rising sun.\n\n 5 Time, like an ever-rolling stream,\n Bears all its sons away;\n They fly forgotten as a dream\n Dies at the opening day.\n\n 6 Our God, our help in ages past,\n Our hope for years to come,\n Be thou our guard while troubles last,\n And our eternal home.\n\n\n76 C. M.\n The goodness of God.\n\n Sweet is the memory of thy grace,\n My God, my heavenly King;\n Let age to age thy righteousness\n In songs of glory sing.\n\n 2 God reigns on high, but ne'er confines\n His goodness to the skies:\n Through the whole earth his bounty shines,\n And every want supplies.\n\n 3 With longing eyes thy creatures wait\n On thee for daily food,\n Thy liberal hand provides their meat,\n And fills their mouths with good.\n\n 4 How kind are thy compassions, Lord!\n How slow thine anger moves!\n But soon he sends his pardoning word\n To cheer the souls he loves.\n\n 5 Creatures, with all their endless race,\n Thy power and praise proclaim:\n But saints that taste thy richer grace,\n Delight to bless thy name.\n\n\n77 C. M.\n Your heavenly Father feedeth them.\n Matt. 6:25-34.\n\n O why despond in life's dark vale?\n Why sink to fears a prey?\n Th' almighty power can never fail,\n His love can ne'er decay.\n\n 2 Behold the birds that wing the air,\n Nor sow nor reap the grain;\n Yet God, with all a father's care,\n Relieves when they complain.\n\n 3 Behold the lilies of the field:\n They toil nor labor know;\n Yet royal robes to theirs must yield,\n In beauty's richest glow.\n\n 4 That God who hears the raven's cry,\n Who decks the lily's form,\n Will surely all your wants supply,\n And shield you in the storm.\n\n 5 Seek first his kingdom's grace to share:\n Its righteousness pursue:\n And all that needs your earthly care\n He will bestow on you.\n\n\n78 C. M.\n Gratitude.\n\n When all thy mercies, O my God,\n My rising soul surveys,\n Transported with the view I'm lost\n In wonder, love, and praise.\n\n 2 Unnumbered comforts on my soul\n Thy tender care bestowed,\n Before my infant heart conceived\n From whom those comforts flowed.\n\n 3 When in the slippery paths of youth\n With heedless steps I ran,\n Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe,\n And led me up to man.\n\n 4 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts\n My daily thanks employ,\n Nor is the least a cheerful heart,\n That tastes those gifts with joy.\n\n 5 Through every period of my life\n Thy goodness I'll pursue;\n And after death, in distant worlds,\n The glorious theme renew.\n\n 6 Through all eternity, to thee\n A joyful song I'll raise;\n But O! eternity's too short\n To utter all thy praise!\n\n\n79 C. M.\n Thy judgments are a great deep.\n Psalm 36:6.\n\n God moves in a mysterious way\n His wonders to perform;\n He plants his footsteps on the sea,\n And rides upon the storm.\n\n 2 Deep in unfathomable mines\n Of never-failing skill,\n He treasures up his bright designs,\n And works his gracious will.\n\n 3 You fearful saints, fresh courage take;\n The clouds you so much dread\n Are big with mercy, and shall break\n In blessings on your head.\n\n 4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,\n But trust him for his grace;\n Behind a frowning providence\n He hides a smiling face.\n\n 5 His purposes will ripen fast,\n Unfolding every hour;\n The bud may have a bitter taste,\n But sweet will be the flower.\n\n 6 Blind unbelief is sure to err,\n And scan his work in vain:\n God is his own interpreter,\n And he will make it plain.\n\n\n80 C. M.\n My God, how wonderful thou art.\n\n My God, how wonderful thou art,\n Thy majesty how bright!\n How glorious is thy mercy-seat,\n In depths of burning light!\n\n 2 Yet I may love thee too, O Lord,\n Almighty as thou art;\n For thou hast stooped to ask of me\n The love of my poor heart.\n\n 3 No earthly father loves like thee,\n No mother half so mild\n Bears and forbears, as thou hast done\n With me, thy sinful child.\n\n 4 My God, how wonderful thou art,\n Thou everlasting Friend!\n On thee I stay my trusting heart,\n Till faith in vision end.\n\n\n81 C. M.\n The God of my life.\n\n Father of mercies! God of love!\n My Father and my God!\n I'll sing the honors of thy name,\n And spread thy praise abroad.\n\n 2 In every period of my life\n Thy thoughts of love appear;\n Thy mercies gild each transient scene,\n And crown each passing year.\n\n 3 In all thy mercies, may my soul\n A Father's bounty see;\n Nor let the gifts thy grace bestows\n Estrange my heart from thee.\n\n 4 Teach me, in times of deep distress,\n To own thy hand, O God!\n And in submissive silence learn\n The lessons of thy rod.\n\n 5 Then may I close my eyes in death,\n Redeemed from anxious fear:\n For death itself, my God, is life,\n If thou be with me there.\n\n\n82 C. M.\n In the winds.\n Isaiah 27:8.\n\n Great Ruler of all nature's frame,\n We own thy power divine;\n We hear thy breath in every storm\n For all the winds are thine.\n\n 2 Wide as they sweep their sounding way,\n They work thy sovereign will;\n And, awed by the majestic voice,\n Confusion shall be still.\n\n 3 Thy mercy tempers every blast\n To them that seek thy face,\n And mingles with the tempest's roar,\n The whispers of thy grace.\n\n 4 Those gentle whispers let me hear,\n Till all the tumult cease;\n And gales of paradise shall lull\n My weary soul to peace.\n\n\n83 C. M.\n His tender mercies are over all his works.\n Psalm 145:9.\n\n Thy goodness, Lord, our souls confess;\n Thy goodness we adore:\n A spring whose blessings never fail;\n A sea without a shore.\n\n 2 Sun, moon, and stars thy love attest\n In every golden ray;\n Love draws the curtains of the night,\n And love brings back the day.\n\n 3 Thy bounty every season crowns\n With all the bliss it yields,\n With joyful clusters loads the vines,\n With strengthening grain the fields.\n\n 4 But chiefly thy compassion, Lord,\n Is in the gospel seen;\n There, like a sun, thy mercy shines,\n Without a cloud between.\n\n 5 There, pardon, peace, and holy joy,\n Through Jesus' name are given;\n He on the cross was lifted high,\n That we might reign in heaven.\n\n\n84 C. M. 6 lines.\n Seeing him who is invisible.\n\n Beyond, beyond that boundless sea,\n Above that dome of sky,\n Further than thought itself can flee,\n Thy dwelling is on high:\n Yet dear the awful thought to me,\n That thou, my God, art nigh!\n\n 2 Art nigh, and yet my laboring mind\n Feels after thee in vain,\n Thee in these works of power to find,\n Or to thy seat attain.\n Thy messenger the stormy wind;\n Thy path, the trackless main:\n\n 3 These speak of thee with loud acclaim;\n They thunder forth thy praise,\n The glorious honor of thy name,\n The wonders of thy ways:\n But thou art not in tempest flame\n Nor in the noontide blaze.\n\n 4 We hear thy voice when thunders roll\n Through the wide fields of air;\n The waves obey thy dread control;\n But still, thou art not there:\n Where shall I find him, O my soul!\n Who yet is everywhere?\n\n 5 O! not in circling depth or hight,\n But in the conscious breast,\n Present to faith, though vailed from sight;\n There doth his Spirit rest:\n O, come, thou Presence infinite!\n And make thy creature blest.\n\n\n85 C. M.\n Just and true are thy ways.\n Rev. 15:3.\n\n Since all the varying scenes of time\n God's watchful eye surveys,\n O, who so wise to choose our lot,\n Or to appoint our ways!\n\n 2 Good when he gives--supremely good--\n Nor less when he denies;\n E'en crosses, from his sovereign hand,\n Are blessings in disguise.\n\n 3 Why should we doubt a Father's love\n So constant and so kind?\n To his unerring, gracious will\n Be every wish resigned.\n\n\n86 C. M.\n God is love.\n 1 John 4:8.\n\n I can not always trace the way\n Where thou, almighty One, dost move;\n But I can always, always say,\n That God is love.\n\n 2 When fear her chilling mantle flings\n O'er earth, my soul to heaven above,\n As to her native home, upsprings;\n For God is love.\n\n 3 When mystery clouds my darkened path,\n I'll check my dread, my doubts reprove;\n In this my soul sweet comfort hath,\n That God is love.\n\n 4 O may this truth my heart employ,\n And every gloomy thought remove;\n It fills my soul with boundless joy,\n That God is love!\n\n\n87 C. M.\n Thou hast taught me from my youth.\n Psalm 71.\n\n Almighty Father of mankind!\n On thee my hopes remain;\n And when the day of trouble comes,\n I shall not trust in vain.\n\n 2 In early years, thou wast my guide,\n And of my youth the friend;\n And, as my days began with thee,\n With thee my days shall end.\n\n 3 I know the Power in whom I trust,\n The arm on which I lean;\n He will my Saviour ever be,\n Who has my Saviour been.\n\n 4 Thou wilt not cast me off, when age\n And evil days descend;\n Thou wilt not leave me in despair,\n To mourn my latter end.\n\n 5 Therefore, in life I'll trust in thee;\n In death I will adore;\n And after death will sing thy praise,\n When time shall be no more.\n\n\n88 C. M.\n All things are yours.\n 1 Cor. 3:21.\n\n Since God is mine, then present things\n And things to come are mine;\n Yea, Christ, his word, and Spirit, too,\n And glory all divine.\n\n 2 Since he is mine, then from his love\n He every trouble sends;\n All things are working for my good,\n And bliss his rod attends.\n\n 3 Since he is mine, I need not fear\n The rage of earth and hell;\n He will support my feeble power,\n Their utmost force repel.\n\n 4 Since he is mine, let friends forsake,\n Let wealth and honors flee:\n Sure, he who giveth me himself,\n Is more than these to me.\n\n 5 Since he is mine, I'll boldly pass\n Through death's dark, lonely vale:\n He is my comfort and my stay,\n When heart and flesh shall fail.\n\n 6 And now, O Lord, since thou art mine,\n What can I wish beside?\n My soul shall at the fountain live,\n When all the streams are dried.\n\n\n89 C. M.\n Providence.\n\n Let the whole race of creatures lie\n In dust before the Lord!\n Whate'er his powerful hand has formed,\n He governs with a word.\n\n 2 Ten thousand ages ere the skies\n Were into motion brought,\n All the long years and worlds to come\n Stood present to his thought.\n\n 3 There's not a sparrow, or a worm,\n O'erlooked in his decrees:\n He raises monarchs to a throne,\n Or sinks with equal ease.\n\n 4 If light attend the course I go,\n 'Tis he provides the rays;\n And 'tis his hand that hides the sun,\n If darkness cloud my days.\n\n 5 Trusting his wisdom and his love,\n I would not wish to know\n What, in the book of his decrees,\n Awaits me here below.\n\n 6 Be this alone my fervent prayer:\n Whate'er my lot may be,\n Or joys, or sorrows--may they form\n My soul for heaven and thee!\n\n\n90 C. M.\n Majesty of God.\n Psalm 18.\n\n The Lord descended from above\n And bowed the heavens most high,\n And underneath his feet he cast\n The darkness of the sky.\n\n 2 On cherubim and seraphim\n Full royally he rode;\n And on the wings of mighty winds,\n Came flying all abroad.\n\n 3 He sat serene upon the floods,\n Their fury to restrain;\n And he, as sovereign Lord and King,\n For evermore shall reign.\n\n\n91 S. M.\n Now we know in part.\n 1 Cor. 13:12.\n\n Thy way is in the sea;\n Thy paths we can not trace;\n Nor solve, O Lord, the mystery\n Of thy unbounded grace.\n\n 2 Here the dark vails of sense\n Our captive souls surround;\n Mysterious deeps of providence\n Our wandering thoughts confound.\n\n 3 As through a glass we see\n The wonders of thy love;\n How little do we know of thee,\n Or of the joys above.\n\n 4 In part we know thy will,\n And bless thee for the sight;\n Soon will thy love the rest reveal\n In glory's clearer light.\n\n 5 With joy shall we survey\n Thy providence and grace;\n And spend an everlasting day\n In wonder, love and praise.\n\n\n92 S. M.\n He careth for you.\n 1 Peter 5:7.\n\n How gentle God's commands!\n How kind his precepts are!\n Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,\n And trust his constant care.\n\n 2 His bounty will provide,\n His saints securely dwell;\n That hand which bears creation up,\n Shall guard his children well.\n\n 3 Why should this anxious load\n Press down your weary mind?\n O, seek your heavenly Father's throne,\n And peace and comfort find.\n\n 4 His goodness stands approved,\n Unchanged from day to day;\n I'll drop my burden at his feet,\n And bear a song away.\n\n\n93 S. M.\n Praise for mercies.\n\n O bless the Lord, my soul!\n Let all within me join,\n And aid my tongue to bless his name\n Whose favors are divine.\n\n 2 O bless the Lord, my soul!\n Nor let his mercies lie\n Forgotten in unthankfulness,\n And without praises die.\n\n 3 'Tis he forgives thy sins;\n 'Tis he relieves thy pain;\n 'Tis he that heals thy sicknesses,\n And gives thee strength again.\n\n 4 He crowns thy life with love,\n When rescued from the grave;\n He that redeemed our souls from death,\n Hath boundless power to save.\n\n 5 He fills the poor with good;\n He gives the sufferers rest:\n The Lord hath justice for the proud,\n And mercy for the oppressed.\n\n 6 His wondrous works and ways\n He made by Moses known;\n But sent the world his truth and grace\n By his beloved Son.\n\n\n94 S. M.\n Psalm 23.\n\n The Lord my shepherd is;\n I shall be well supplied:\n Since he is mine, and I am his,\n What can I want beside?\n\n 2 He leads me to the place\n Where heavenly pasture grows,\n Where living waters gently pass,\n And full salvation flows.\n\n 3 If e'er I go astray,\n He doth my soul reclaim,\n And guides me in his own right way,\n For his most holy name.\n\n 4 While he affords his aid,\n I can not yield to fear;\n Tho' I should walk thro' death's dark shade,\n My shepherd's with me there.\n\n\n95 S. M.\n His mercy endureth for ever.\n Psalm 103.\n\n My soul, repeat his praise\n Whose mercies are so great;\n Whose anger is so slow to rise,\n So ready to abate.\n\n 2 High as the heavens are raised\n Above the ground we tread,\n So far the riches of his grace\n Our highest thoughts exceed.\n\n 3 His power subdues our sins,\n And his forgiving love,\n Far as the east is from the west,\n Doth all our guilt remove.\n\n 4 The pity of the Lord,\n To those that fear his name,\n Is such as tender parents feel:\n He knows our feeble frame.\n\n 5 Our days are as the grass,\n Or like the morning flower:\n If one sharp blast sweeps o'er the field,\n It withers in an hour.\n\n 6 But thy compassions, Lord,\n To endless years endure;\n And children's children ever find\n Thy words of promise sure.\n\n\n96 S. M.\n The fountain.\n\n God is the fountain whence\n Ten thousand blessings flow;\n To him my life, my health, and friends,\n And every good, I owe.\n\n 2 The comforts he affords\n Are neither few nor small;\n He is the source of fresh delights,\n My portion and my all.\n\n 3 He fills my heart with joy,\n My lips attunes for praise;\n And to his glory I'll devote\n The remnant of my days.\n\n\n97 7s, double.\n Psalm 136.\n\n Let us with a joyful mind\n Praise the Lord, for he is kind;\n For his mercies shall endure,\n Ever faithful, ever sure.\n Let us sound his name abroad,\n For of gods he is the God\n Who by wisdom did create\n Heaven's expanse and all its state;\n\n 2 Did the solid earth ordain\n How to rise above the main;\n Who, by his commanding might,\n Filled the new-made world with light;\n Caused the golden-tressed sun\n All the day his course to run;\n And the moon to shine by night,\n 'Mid her spangled sisters bright.\n\n 3 All his creatures God doth feed,\n His full hand supplies their need;\n Let us therefore warble forth\n His high majesty and worth.\n He his mansion hath on high,\n 'Bove the reach of mortal eye;\n And his mercies shall endure,\n Ever faithful, ever sure.\n\n\n98 P. M.\n Thou art my hiding place.\n Psalm 32:7.\n\n To thee, O God! to thee,\n With lowly heart I bend;\n Lord, to my prayer attend,\n And haste to succor me,\n Thou never-failing friend!\n For seas of trouble o'er me roll,\n And 'whelm with tears my sinking soul.\n\n 2 On thee, O God! on thee,\n With humble hope I'll lean;\n Thou who hast ever been\n A hiding place to me\n In many a troubled scene;\n Whose heart, with love and mercy fraught,\n Back to the fold thy wanderer brought.\n\n\n99 8s & 7s.\n The elder brother.\n\n Yes, for me, for me he careth\n With a brother's tender care;\n Yes, with me, with me he shareth\n Every burden, every fear.\n\n 2 Yes, o'er me, o'er me he watcheth,\n Ceaseless watcheth, night and day;\n Yes, e'en me, e'en me he snatcheth\n From the perils of the way.\n\n 3 Yes, for me he standeth pleading\n At the mercy-seat above;\n Ever for me interceding,\n Constant in untiring love.\n\n 4 Yes, in me abroad he sheddeth\n Joys unearthly, love and light;\n And to cover me he spreadeth\n His paternal wing of might.\n\n 5 Yes, in me, in me he dwelleth;\n I in him, and he in me!\n And my empty soul he filleth,\n Here and through eternity.\n\n 6 Thus I wait for his returning,\n Singing all the way to heaven:\n Such the joyful song of morning\n Such the tranquil song of even.\n\n\n100 10s & 11s.\n Jehovah jireh.\n Gen. 22:14.\n\n Though troubles assail, and dangers affright,\n Though friends should all fail, and foes all unite,\n Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide,\n The scripture assures us, The Lord will provide.\n\n 2 The birds without barn or storehouse are fed;\n From them let us learn to trust for our bread:\n His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be denied,\n So long as 'tis written, The Lord will provide.\n\n 3 We may, like the ships, by tempests be tossed\n On perilous deeps, but can not be lost:\n Though Satan enrages the wind and the tide,\n The promise engages, The Lord will provide.\n\n 4 His call we obey, like Abrah'm of old,\n Not knowing our way, but faith makes us bold:\n For though we are strangers, we have a good guide,\n And trust, in all dangers, The Lord will provide.\n\n 5 No strength of our own, or goodness, we claim;\n But since we have known the Saviour's great name,\n In this our strong tower for safety we hide--\n The Lord is our power--The Lord will provide.\n\n 6 When life sinks apace, and death is in view,\n The word of his grace shall comfort us through:\n Not fearing or doubting, with Christ on our side,\n We hope to die shouting, The Lord will provide.\n\n\n101 8s & 7s.\n Praise the King of heaven.\n\n Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;\n To his feet thy tribute bring;\n Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,\n Who like me his praise should sing?\n Praise him! praise him!\n Praise the everlasting King!\n\n 2 Praise him for his grace and favor\n To our fathers in distress;\n Praise him, still the same for ever:\n Slow to chide, and swift to bless;\n Praise him! praise him!\n Glorious in his faithfulness!\n\n 3 Father-like he tends and spares us;\n Well our feeble frame he knows;\n In his hands he gently bears us--\n Rescues us from all our foes;\n Praise him! praise him!\n Widely as his mercy flows!\n\n 4 Angels, help us to adore him:\n Ye behold him face to face;\n Sun and moon, bow down before him;\n Dwellers all in time and space,\n Praise him! praise him!\n Praise with us the God of grace!\n\n\n102 10s & 11s.\n God glorious.\n\n O, worship the King all-glorious above,\n And gratefully sing his wonderful love--\n Our shield and defender, the ancient of days,\n Pavilioned in splendor and girded with praise.\n\n 2 O tell of his might, and sing of his grace,\n Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space;\n His chariots of wrath the deep thunder-clouds form,\n And dark is his path on the wings of the storm.\n\n 3 Thy bountiful care what tongue can recite?\n It breathes in the air, it shines in the light,\n It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,\n And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.\n\n 4 Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,\n In thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail,\n Thy mercies how tender! how firm to the end,\n Our Maker, Defender, Preserver, and Friend.\n\n 5 O Father Almighty, how faithful thy love!\n While angels delight to hymn thee above,\n The humbler creation, though feeble their lays,\n With true adoration shall lisp to thy praise.\n\n\n103 11s.\n Psalm 23.\n\n The Lord is my Shepherd, no want shall I know;\n I feed in green pastures, safe folded I rest;\n He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,\n Restores me when wandering, redeems when opprest.\n\n 2 Through the valley and shadow of death tho' I stray,\n Since thou art my guardian, no evil I fear;\n Thy rod shall defend me, thy staff be my stay;\n No harm can befall, with my comforter near.\n\n 3 In the midst of affliction my table is spread;\n With blessings unmeasured my cup runneth o'er;\n With perfume and oil thou anointest my head;\n O what shall I ask of thy providence more?\n\n 4 Let goodness and mercy, my bountiful God!\n Still follow my steps till I meet thee above;\n I seek, by the path which my forefathers trod,\n Through the land of their sojourn, thy kingdom of love.\n\n\n104 9s & 6s.\n Fear not, little flock.\n Luke 12:32.\n\n Yes! our Shepherd leads with gentle hand,\n Through the dark pilgrim-land,\n His flock, so dearly bought,\n So long and fondly sought.\n Hallelujah!\n\n 2 When in clouds and mist the weak ones stray,\n He shows again the way,\n And points to them afar\n A bright and guiding star.\n Hallelujah!\n\n 3 Tenderly he watches from on high\n With an unwearied eye;\n He comforts and sustains,\n In all their fears and pains.\n Hallelujah!\n\n 4 Through the parched, dreary desert he will guide\n To the green fountain-side:\n Through the dark, stormy night,\n To a calm land of light.\n Hallelujah!\n\n 5 Yes! his \"little flock\" are ne'er forgot;\n His mercy changes not:\n Our home is safe above,\n Within his arms of love.\n Hallelujah!\n\n\n\n\n IN REDEMPTION.\n\n\n105 L. M.\n God only wise.\n\n Awake, my tongue; thy tribute bring\n To him who gave thee power to sing;\n Praise him who is all praise above,\n The source of wisdom and of love.\n\n 2 How vast his knowledge! how profound!\n A depth where all our thoughts are drowned;\n The stars he numbers, and their names\n He gives to all those heavenly flames.\n\n 3 Through each bright world above, behold\n Ten thousand thousand charms unfold;\n Earth, air, and mighty seas combine\n To speak his wisdom all divine.\n\n 4 But in redemption, O what grace!\n Its wonders, O, what thought can trace!\n Here, wisdom shines for ever bright;\n Praise him, my soul, with sweet delight.\n\n\n106 L. M.\n Grace.\n\n My God, how excellent thy grace!\n Whence all our hope and comfort springs;\n The sons of Adam in distress,\n Fly to the shadow of thy wings.\n\n 2 Life, like a fountain rich and free,\n Springs from the presence of my Lord,\n And in thy light our souls shall see\n The glories promised in thy word.\n\n\n107 L. M.\n Creation and redemption.\n\n Give to our God immortal praise;\n Mercy and truth are all his ways:\n Wonders of grace to God belong;\n Repeat his mercies in your song.\n\n 2 Give to the Lord of lords renown,\n The King of kings with glory crown:\n His mercies ever shall endure,\n When lords and kings are known no more.\n\n 3 He built the earth, he spread the sky,\n And fixed the starry lights on high:\n Wonders of grace to God belong;\n Repeat his mercies in your song.\n\n 4 He fills the sun with morning light,\n He bids the moon direct the night:\n His mercies ever shall endure,\n When suns and moons shall shine no more.\n\n 5 He sent his Son with power to save\n From guilt, and darkness, and the grave:\n Wonders of grace to God belong;\n Repeat his mercies in your song.\n\n 6 Through this vain world he guides our feet,\n And leads us to his heavenly seat:\n His mercies ever shall endure,\n When this vain world shall be no more.\n\n\n108 L. M.\n The reconciliation.\n\n O love, beyond conception great,\n That formed the vast, stupendous plan,\n Where all divine perfections meet\n To reconcile rebellious man:\n\n 2 There wisdom shines in fullest blaze,\n And justice all her right maintains--\n Astonished angels stoop to gaze,\n While mercy o'er the guilty reigns.\n\n 3 Yes, mercy reigns, and justice too;\n In Christ they both harmonious meet;\n He paid to justice all her due;\n And now he fills the mercy-seat.\n\n\n109 L. M.\n What is man?\n Psalm 8.\n\n Lord, what is man? Extremes how wide\n In this mysterious nature join!\n The flesh to worms and dust allied,\n The soul immortal and divine.\n\n 2 Divine at first, a holy flame\n Kindled by heaven's inspiring breath;\n Till sin, with power prevailing, came;\n Then followed darkness, shame and death.\n\n 3 But Jesus, O amazing grace!\n Assumed our nature as his own,\n Obeyed and suffered in our place,\n Then took it with him to his throne.\n\n 4 Now, what is man, when grace reveals,\n The virtue of a Saviour's blood?\n Again a life divine he feels,\n Despises earth and walks with God.\n\n 5 And what, in yonder realms above,\n Is ransomed man ordained to be!\n With honor, holiness, and love,\n No seraph more adorned than he.\n\n 6 Nearest the throne, and first in song,\n Man shall his hallelujahs raise;\n While wondering angels round him throng\n And swell the chorus of his praise.\n\n\n110 L. M.\n Love--that passeth knowledge.\n\n O love of God, how strong and true!\n Eternal and yet ever new:\n Above all price, and still unbought;\n Beyond all knowledge and all thought.\n\n 2 O, wide-embracing, wondrous love,\n We read thee in the sky above;\n We read thee in the earth below,\n In seas that swell and streams that flow.\n\n 3 We read thee best in him who came\n To bear for us the cross of shame;\n Sent by the Father from on high,\n Our life to live, our death to die.\n\n 4 O love of God, our shield and stay\n Through all the perils of the way;\n Eternal love, in thee we rest,\n For ever safe, for ever blest.\n\n\n111 C. M.\n Nature and grace.\n\n Father! how wide thy glory shines!\n How high thy wonders rise!\n Known through the earth by thousand signs,\n By thousand through the skies.\n\n 2 Those mighty orbs proclaim thy power,\n Their motions speak thy skill;\n And on the wings of every hour,\n We read thy patience still.\n\n 3 But when we view thy strange design\n To save rebellious worms,\n Where justice and compassion join\n In their divinest forms,\n\n 4 Our thoughts are lost in reverent awe,\n We love and we adore;\n The brightest angel never saw\n So much of God before.\n\n 5 Here the whole Deity is known;\n But thought can never trace\n Which of the glories brighter shine,\n The justice, or the grace.\n\n 6 Now the full glories of the Lamb\n Adorn the heavenly plains:\n Bright seraphs learn Immanuel's name,\n And try their choicest strains.\n\n 7 O! may I bear some humble part\n In that immortal song;\n Wonder and joy shall tune my heart,\n And love command my tongue.\n\n\n112 C. M.\n Heaven and earth are full of his glory.\n\n Eternal Wisdom, thee we praise;\n Thee all thy creatures sing:\n While with thy name, rocks, hills, and seas,\n And heaven's high palace, ring.\n\n 2 Thy hand, how wide it spread the sky;\n How glorious to behold!\n Tinged with a blue of heavenly dye,\n And decked with sparkling gold.\n\n 3 Almighty power, and equal skill,\n Shine through the worlds abroad,\n Our souls with vast amazement fill,\n And speak the builder, God.\n\n 4 But still the wonders of thy grace\n Our warmer passions move;\n Here we behold our Saviour's face,\n And here adore his love.\n\n\n113 C. M.\n God is love.\n\n Come, ye that know and fear the Lord,\n And raise your souls above;\n Let every heart and voice accord\n To sing that--God is love.\n\n 2 This precious truth his word declares,\n And all his mercies prove;\n While Christ, th' atoning Lamb, appears,\n To show that--God is love.\n\n 3 Behold his loving-kindness waits\n For those who from him rove,\n And calls for mercy reach their hearts,\n To teach them--God is love.\n\n 4 O! may we all, while here below,\n This best of blessings prove;\n Till warmer hearts, in brighter worlds,\n Shall shout that--God is love.\n\n\n114 C. M.\n No joy without God.\n Psalm 73.\n\n God! my supporter and my hope,\n My help for ever near,\n Thine arm of mercy held me up\n When sinking in despair.\n\n 2 Thy counsels, Lord, shall guide my feet\n Through this dark wilderness;\n Thy hand conduct me near thy seat,\n To dwell before thy face.\n\n 3 Were I in heaven without my God,\n 'Twould be no joy to me;\n And while this earth is my abode,\n I long for none but thee.\n\n 4 What if the springs of life were broke,\n And flesh and heart should faint?\n God is my soul's eternal rock,\n The strength of every saint.\n\n\n115 8s, 7s & 4.\n Jehovah my strength.\n\n Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,\n Pilgrim through this barren land;\n I am weak, but thou art mighty,\n Hold me with thy powerful hand;\n Bread of heaven,\n Feed me till I want no more.\n\n 2 Open thou the crystal fountain\n Whence the healing waters flow;\n Let the fiery, cloudy pillar,\n Lead me all my journey through;\n Strong Deliverer,\n Be thou still my strength and shield.\n\n 3 When I tread the verge of Jordan,\n Bid the swelling stream divide;\n Death of death, and hell's destruction,\n Land me safe on Canaan's side!\n Songs of praises\n I will ever give to thee.\n\n\n116 8s & 7s.\n God is light and love.\n\n God is love; his mercy brightens\n All the path in which we move!\n Bliss he grants, and woe he lightens;\n God is light, and God is love.\n\n 2 Chance and change are busy ever;\n Worlds decay and ages move;\n But his mercy waneth never;\n God is light, and God is love.\n\n 3 E'en the hour that darkest seemeth,\n His unchanging goodness proves;\n From the cloud his brightness streameth;\n God is light, and God is love.\n\n 4 He our earthly cares entwineth\n With his comforts from above;\n Everywhere his glory shineth;\n God is light, and God is love.\n\n\n\n\n CHRIST: THE NATIVITY.\n\n\n117 L. M.\n Luke 2:11.\n\n When Jordan hushed his waters still,\n And silence slept on Zion's hill,\n When Bethlehem's shepherds, thro' the night,\n Watched o'er their flocks by starry light--\n\n 2 Hark! from the midnight hills around,\n A voice of more than mortal sound,\n In distant hallelujahs stole,\n Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul.\n\n 3 On wheels of light, on wings of flame,\n The glorious hosts of Zion came;\n High heaven with songs of triumph rung,\n While thus they struck their harps and sung:\n\n 4 \"O Zion, lift thy raptured eye;\n The long-expected hour is nigh;\n The joys of nature rise again;\n The Prince of Salem comes to reign.\n\n 5 \"See, Mercy, from her golden urn,\n Pours a rich stream to them that mourn;\n Behold, she binds with tender care\n The bleeding bosom of despair.\n\n 6 \"He comes to cheer the trembling heart:\n Bids Satan and his host depart;\n Again the day-star gilds the gloom,\n Again the bowers of Eden bloom.\"\n\n\n118 L. M.\n Genesis 3:15.\n\n Behold the woman's promised seed!\n Behold the great Messiah come!\n Behold the prophets all agreed\n To give him the superior room!\n\n 2 Abrah'm, the saint, rejoiced of old,\n When visions of the Lord he saw;\n Moses, the man of God, foretold\n This great fulfiller of his law.\n\n 3 The types bore witness to his name,\n Obtained their chief design, and ceased--\n The incense and the bleeding lamb,\n The ark, the altar, and the priest.\n\n 4 Predictions in abundance join\n To pour their witness on his head:\n Jesus, we bow before thy throne,\n And own thee as the promised seed.\n\n\n\n\n HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS.\n\n\n119 C. H. M.\n Glory to God--good will to men.\n\n In hymns of praise, eternal God,\n When thy creating hand\n Stretched the blue arch of heaven abroad,\n And meted sea and land,\n The morning stars together sung,\n And shouts of joy from angels rung.\n\n 2 Than earth's prime hour, more joyous far\n Was the eventful morn,\n When the bright beam of Bethlehem's star\n Announced a Saviour born!\n Then sweeter strains from heaven began\n \"Glory to God--good will to man.\"\n\n 3 Babe of the manger! can it be?\n Art thou the Son of God?\n Shall subject nations bow the knee,\n And kings obey thy nod?\n Shall thrones and monarchs prostrate fall\n Before the tenant of a stall?\n\n 4 'Tis he! the hymning seraphs cry,\n While hovering drawn to earth;\n 'Tis he, the shepherds' songs reply;\n Hail! hail! Immanuel's birth;\n The rod of peace those hands shall bear,\n That brow a crown of glory wear!\n\n 5 'Tis he! the eastern sages sing,\n And spread their golden hoard;\n 'Tis he! the hills of Zion ring,\n Hosanna to the Lord!\n The Prince of long prophetic years\n To-day in Bethlehem appears!\n\n\n120 C. M. double.\n Song of the angels.\n\n It came upon the midnight clear,\n That glorious song of old,\n From angels bending near the earth\n To touch their harps of gold:\n \"Peace to the earth, good will to men,\n From heaven's all-gracious King;\"\n The world in solemn stillness lay\n To hear the angels sing.\n\n 2 Still through the cloven skies they come\n With peaceful wings unfurled;\n And still their heavenly music floats\n O'er all the weary world:\n Above its sad and lowly plains\n They bend on heavenly wing,\n And ever o'er its Babel sounds\n The blessed angels sing.\n\n 3 Yet with the woes of sin and strife\n The world has suffered long;\n Beneath the angel-strain have rolled\n Two thousand years of wrong;\n And men, at war with men, hear not\n The love-song which they bring:\n O! hush the noise, ye men of strife,\n And hear the angels sing!\n\n 4 And ye, beneath life's crushing load,\n Whose forms are bending low,\n Who toil along the climbing way\n With painful steps and slow;\n Look now! for glad and golden hours\n Come swiftly on the wing:\n O! rest beside the weary road,\n And hear the angels sing!\n\n 5 For lo! the days are hastening on,\n By prophet-bards foretold,\n When with the ever-circling years\n Comes round the age of gold;\n When peace shall over all the earth\n Its ancient splendor fling,\n And the whole world send back the song\n Which now the angels sing.\n\n\n121 C. M.\n Mortals, awake.\n\n Mortals! awake, with angels join,\n And chant the solemn lay;\n Love, joy, and gratitude combine\n To hail the auspicious day.\n\n 2 In heaven the rapturous song began,\n And sweet seraphic fire\n Through all the shining legions ran,\n And swept the sounding lyre.\n\n 3 The theme, the song, the joy was new\n To each angelic tongue;\n Swift through the realms of light it flew,\n And loud the echo rung.\n\n 4 Down through the portals of the sky\n The pealing anthem ran,\n And angels flew with eager joy\n To bear the news to man.\n\n 5 Hark! the cherubic armies shout,\n And glory leads the song,\n Peace and salvation swell the note\n Of all the heavenly throng.\n\n 6 With joy the chorus we'll repeat,\n \"Glory to God on high!\n Good will and peace are now complete--\n Jesus was born to die!\"\n\n 7 Hail, Prince of life! for ever hail!\n Redeemer--brother--friend!\n Though earth, and time, and life shall fail,\n Thy praise shall never end.\n\n\n122 C. M.\n Isaiah 9:6.\n\n To us a child of hope is born,\n To us a Son is given;\n Him shall the tribes of earth obey,\n Him, all the hosts of heaven.\n\n 2 His name shall be the Prince of Peace,\n For evermore adored,\n The Wonderful, the Counsellor,\n The great and mighty Lord.\n\n 3 His power, increasing, still shall spread;\n His reign no end shall know;\n Justice shall guard his throne above,\n And peace abound below.\n\n\n123 C. M.\n The day-spring from on high.\n\n Calm on the listening ear of night,\n Come heaven's melodious strains,\n Where wild Judea stretches far\n Her silver-mantled plains.\n\n 2 Celestial choirs, from courts above,\n Shed sacred glories there,\n And angels, with their sparkling lyres,\n Make music on the air.\n\n 3 The answering hills of Palestine\n Send back the glad reply;\n And greet, from all their holy hights,\n The day-spring from on high.\n\n 4 O'er the blue depths of Galilee\n There comes a holier calm,\n And Sharon waves, in solemn praise,\n Her silent groves of palm.\n\n 5 \"Glory to God!\" the sounding skies\n Loud with their anthems ring--\n \"Peace to the earth, good will to men,\n From heaven's eternal King.\"\n\n 6 Light on thy hill, Jerusalem!\n The Saviour now is born!\n And bright on Bethlehem's joyous plains\n Breaks the first Advent morn.\n\n\n124 C. M.\n The Advent.\n\n Hark, the glad sound! the Saviour comes!\n The Saviour promised long!\n Let every heart prepare a throne,\n And every voice a song.\n\n 2 He comes, the prisoner to release\n In Satan's bondage held;\n The gates of brass before him burst,\n The iron fetters yield.\n\n 3 He comes, from thickest films of vice\n To clear the mental ray,\n And on the eyeballs of the blind\n To pour celestial day.\n\n 4 He comes, the broken heart to bind,\n The bleeding soul to cure,\n And with the treasures of his grace\n To enrich the humble poor.\n\n 5 Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace,\n The welcome shall proclaim,\n And heaven's eternal arches ring\n With thy beloved name.\n\n\n125 C. M.\n Joy to the world.\n\n Joy to the world; the Lord is come!\n Let earth receive her King:\n Let every heart prepare him room,\n And heaven and nature sing.\n\n 2 Joy to the earth, the Saviour reigns!\n Let men their songs employ;\n While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains,\n Repeat the sounding joy.\n\n 3 No more let sins and sorrows grow,\n Nor thorns infest the ground;\n He comes to make his blessings flow\n Far as the curse is found.\n\n 4 He rules the world with truth and grace,\n And makes the nations prove\n The glories of his righteousness,\n And wonders of his love.\n\n\n126 7s.\n Christ is born in Bethlehem.\n Luke 2.\n\n Hark! the herald angels sing,\n \"Glory to the new-born King!\n Peace on earth, and mercy mild;\n God and sinners reconciled.\"\n\n 2 Joyful, all ye nations, rise;\n Join the triumphs of the skies;\n With th' angelic host proclaim,\n \"Christ is born in Bethlehem.\"\n\n 3 See, he lays his glory by;\n Born that man no more may die;\n Born to raise the sons of earth;\n Born to give them second birth.\n\n 4 Vailed in flesh the Godhead see!\n Hail, th' incarnate Deity!\n Pleased as man with man to dwell,\n Jesus, our Immanuel!\n\n 5 Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!\n Hail, the Son of Righteousness!\n Light and life to all he brings,\n Risen with healing in his wings.\n\n 6 Let us then with angels sing,\n \"Glory to the new-born King!\n Peace on earth, and mercy mild;\n God and sinners reconciled!\"\n\n\n127 7s.\n The wonderful.\n\n Bright and joyful was the morn\n When to us a child was born;\n From the highest realms of heaven\n Unto us a Son was given.\n\n 2 On his shoulder he shall bear\n Power and majesty--and wear\n On his vesture and his thigh\n Names most awful--names most high.\n\n 3 Wonderful in counsel he,\n Christ th' incarnate Deity;\n Sire of ages ne'er to cease,\n King of kings, and Prince of Peace.\n\n 4 Come and worship at his feet,\n Yield to him the homage meet;\n From his manger to his throne,\n Homage due to God alone.\n\n\n128 7s.\n Watchman, what of the night?\n Isaiah 21:11.\n\n Watchman, tell us of the night,\n What its signs of promise are.\n Traveler, o'er yon mountain's hights\n See that glory-beaming star!\n\n 2 Watchman, does its beauteous ray\n Aught of joy or hope foretell?\n Traveler, yes: it brings the day,\n Promised day of Israel.\n\n 3 Watchman, tell us of the night;\n Higher yet that star ascends.\n Traveler, blessedness and light,\n Peace and truth, its course portends.\n\n 4 Watchman, will its beams alone\n Gild the spot that gave them birth?\n Traveler, ages are its own:\n See! it bursts o'er all the earth!\n\n 5 Watchman, tell us of the night,\n For the morning seems to dawn.\n Traveler, darkness takes its flight,\n Doubt and terror are withdrawn.\n\n 6 Watchman, let thy wandering cease;\n Hie thee to thy quiet home.\n Traveler, lo! the Prince of Peace,\n Lo! the Son of God is come!\n\n\n129 7s.\n A Bethlehem hymn.\n\n He has come! the Christ of God;\n Left for us his glad abode;\n Stooping from his throne of bliss,\n To this darksome wilderness.\n\n 2 He has come--the Prince of Peace--\n Come to bid our sorrows cease;\n Come to scatter, with his light,\n All the shadows of our night.\n\n 3 He, the mighty King, has come!\n Making the poor earth his home\n Come to bear sin's heavy load;\n Son of David, Son of God.\n\n 4 He has come, whose name of grace\n Speaks deliverance to our race;\n Left for us his glad abode;\n Son of Mary, Son of God!\n\n 5 Unto us a child is born!\n Ne'er has earth beheld a morn\n Numbered in the morns of time,\n Half so glorious in its prime.\n\n 6 Unto us a Son is given!\n He has come from God's own heaven;\n Bringing with him from above,\n Holy peace and holy love.\n\n\n130 7s.\n Immanuel.\n\n God with us! O glorious name!\n Let it shine in endless fame;\n God and man in Christ unite--\n O mysterious depth and hight!\n\n 2 God with us! amazing love\n Brought him from his courts above;\n Now, ye saints, his grace admire,\n Swell the song with holy fire.\n\n 3 God with us! O wondrous grace!\n Let us see him face to face;\n That we may Immanuel sing,\n As we ought, our God and King.\n\n\n131 P. M.\n Silent night.\n\n Silent night! hallowed night!\n Land and deep silent sleep;\n Softly glitters bright Bethlehem's star,\n Beckoning Israel's eye from afar\n Where the Saviour is born.\n\n 2 Silent night! hallowed night!\n On the plain wakes the strain,\n Sung by heavenly harbingers bright,\n Fraught with tidings of boundless delight:\n Christ the Saviour has come.\n\n 3 Silent night! hallowed night!\n Earth awake, silence break,\n High your anthems of melody raise,\n Heaven and earth in full chorus of praise:\n Peace for ever shall reign.\n\n\n132 H. M.\n Good tidings of great joy.\n Luke 2.\n\n Hark! hark! the notes of joy\n Roll o'er the heavenly plains,\n And seraphs find employ\n For their sublimest strains:\n Some new delight in heaven is known;\n Loud sound the harps around the throne.\n\n 2 Hark! hark! the sound draws nigh--\n The joyful host descends;\n The Lord forsakes the sky,\n To earth his footsteps bends:\n He comes to bless our fallen race;\n He comes with messages of grace.\n\n 3 Bear, bear the tidings round!\n Let every mortal know\n What love in God is found,\n What pity he can show:\n Ye winds that blow, ye waves that roll,\n Bear the glad news from pole to pole.\n\n 4 Strike, strike the harps again,\n To great Immanuel's name!\n Arise, ye sons of men,\n And all his grace proclaim:\n Angels and men, wake every string,\n 'Tis God the Saviour's praise we sing!\n\n\n133 8s & 7s.\n Shepherds, hail the wondrous stranger.\n\n Shepherds! hail the wondrous stranger,\n Now to Bethlehem speed your way;\n Lo! in yonder humble manger,\n Christ, the Lord, is born to-day.\n\n 2 Bright the star of your salvation,\n Pointing to his rude abode;\n Rapturous news for every nation:\n Now, behold the Son of God.\n\n 3 Love eternal moved the Saviour,\n Thus to lay his radiance by;\n Blessings on the Lamb for ever;\n Glory be to God on high.\n\n\n134 8s & 7s.\n Chorus of the angels.\n Luke 2:14.\n\n Hark! what joyful notes are swelling\n On the quiet midnight air!\n 'Tis the voice of angels telling,\n Jesus comes our sins to bear!\n Now the music, in its gladness,\n Breaks and swells, and glides along!\n Now, earth, waking from her sadness,\n Joins the chorus of the song!\n Glory in the highest heaven!\n Peace on earth, good-will to man!\n Let all praise to God be given,\n For Redemption's glorious plan!\n\n 2 See all darkness disappearing,\n As the star begins to rise!\n Sin and death stand trembling, fearing,\n As the light falls on their eyes:\n Now, again, the earth rejoices,\n Satan's powerful kingdom shakes,\n As, from all the heavenly voices,\n Louder still the chorus breaks!\n Glory in the highest heaven! etc.\n\n 3 Rise and shine, Star of Salvation!\n Spread thy beams o'er all the earth,\n Till each distant land and nation\n Owns and speaks thy matchless worth!\n Till all tongues, thy praises singing,\n Shall thy mighty wonders tell,\n Till all heaven with joy is ringing,\n As our hearts the chorus swell:\n Glory in the highest heaven! etc.\n\n 4 When our days on earth are ended,\n And we rise to worlds above,\n Then our songs shall all be blended\n In one song of pardoning love!\n Then we'll tell the wondrous story,\n And our blessed Lord adore;\n In our home of bliss and glory\n We shall sing for evermore!\n Glory in the highest heaven!\n Sound aloud the joyful strain!\n Glory to the Lamb be given,\n Who for sinners once was slain!\n\n\n135 8s & 7s.\n Hark! what mean those holy voices?\n\n Hark! what mean those holy voices,\n Sweetly sounding through the skies?\n Lo! th' angelic host rejoices!\n Heavenly hallelujahs rise.\n\n 2 Hear them tell the wondrous story,\n Hear them chant in hymns of joy--\n \"Glory to the highest, glory!\n Glory be to God most high!\n\n 3 \"Peace on earth, good-will from heaven,\n Reaching far as man is found;\n Souls redeemed and sins forgiven!\"\n Loud our golden harps shall sound.\n\n 4 \"Christ is born, the great anointed;\n Heaven and earth his praises sing;\n O receive whom God appointed,\n For your Prophet, Priest, and King!\n\n 5 \"Haste, ye mortals, to adore him;\n Learn his name, and taste his joy;\n Till in heaven ye sing before him--\n \"'Glory be to God most high!'\"\n\n\n136 8s & 7s.\n Christ, the Saviour, born.\n\n Hail, thou long-expected Jesus!\n Born to set thy people free;\n From our sins and fears release us,\n Let us find our rest in thee.\n\n 2 Israel's strength and consolation,\n Hope of all the saints, thou art;\n Longdesired of every nation,\n Joy of every waiting heart.\n\n 3 Born, thy people to deliver--\n Born a child, yet Christ, our King--\n Born to reign in us for ever--\n Now thy gracious kingdom bring.\n\n 4 By thine own eternal Spirit,\n Rule in all our hearts alone;\n By thine all-sufficient merit,\n Raise us to thy glorious throne.\n\n\n137 8s, 7s & 4.\n Come and worship.\n\n Angels, from the realms of glory,\n Wing your flight o'er all the earth,\n Ye who sang creation's story,\n Now proclaim Messiah's birth:\n Come and worship,\n Worship Christ, the new-born King.\n\n 2 Shepherds, in the field abiding,\n Watching o'er your flocks by night,\n God with man is now residing,\n Yonder shines the infant light;\n Come and worship,\n Worship Christ, the new-born King.\n\n 3 Sages, leave your contemplations,\n Brighter visions beam afar;\n Seek the great desire of nations;\n Ye have seen his natal star!\n Come and worship,\n Worship Christ, the new-born King.\n\n 4 Saints, before the altar bending,\n Watching long in hope and fear,\n Suddenly, the Lord descending,\n In his temple shall appear;\n Come and worship,\n Worship Christ, the new-born King.\n\n\n138 11s & 10s.\n Hail the blest morn.\n\n Hail the blest morn! when the great Mediator\n Down from the regions of glory descends!\n Shepherds, go worship the babe in the manger;\n Lo! for your guide the bright angel attends!\n CHORUS.\n Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,\n Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thy aid:\n Star of the East, the horizon adorning,\n Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.\n\n 2 Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining,\n Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall:\n Angels adore him in slumbers reclining,\n Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!\n\n 3 Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,\n Odors of Eden, and offerings divine;\n Gems from the mountain, and pearls from the ocean,\n Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?\n\n 4 Vainly we offer earth's richest oblation\n Vainly with gold would his favor secure;\n Richer, by far, is the heart's adoration,\n Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor!\n\n\n139 12s.\n Hallelujah to the Lamb.\n\n From the regions of love, lo! an angel descended,\n And told the strange news how the babe was attended;\n Go, shepherds, and visit the wonderful stranger;\n See yonder bright star! there's your Lord in a manger.\n CHORUS.\n Hallelujah to the Lamb who has purchased our pardon,\n We'll praise him again when we pass over Jordan!\n\n 2 Glad tidings I bring unto you and each nation!\n Glad tidings of joy--now behold your salvation;\n Then suddenly multitudes raise their glad voices,\n And shout hallelujahs, while heaven rejoices!\n\n 3 Now glory to God in the highest be given,\n All glory to God is re-echoed from heaven;\n Around the whole earth let us tell the glad story,\n And sing of his love, his salvation, and glory.\n\n 4 O Jesus! ride on, thy kingdom is glorious;\n Over sin, death, and hell, thou'lt make us victorious!\n Thy banner unfurl--let the nations surrender,\n And own thee their Saviour, their Lord and Defender!\n\n\n140 P. M.\n Glory to God in the highest.\n\n Hark! from the world on high\n Glory to God!\n Now swells along the sky\n Glory to God!\n Songs, like sweet notes of praise,\n Pour forth in rapturous lays,\n As all the voices raise\n Glory to God!\n\n 2 Hear how the angels sing\n Glory to God!\n Through all the heavens ring\n Glory to God!\n Now, let each heart on earth\n Sing of the Saviour's birth,\n Telling his matchless worth,\n Glory to God!\n\n\n\n\n LIFE AND MINISTRY.\n\n\n141 L. M.\n His teaching.\n\n How sweetly flowed the gospel sound\n From lips of gentleness and grace,\n When listening thousands gathered round,\n And joy and gladness filled the place!\n\n 2 From heaven he came, of heaven he spoke,\n To heaven he led his followers' way;\n Dark clouds of gloomy night he broke,\n Unvailing an immortal day.\n\n 3 \"Come, wanderers, to my Father's home:\n Come, all ye weary ones, and rest!\"\n Yes, sacred Teacher, we will come,\n Obey thee, love thee, and be blest.\n\n\n142 L. M. 6 lines.\n His baptism.\n\n In Jordan's tide the Baptist stands,\n Immersing the repenting Jews;\n The Son of God the rite demands,\n Nor dares the holy man refuse:\n Jesus descends beneath the wave,\n The emblem of his future grave!\n\n 2 Wonder, ye heavens! your Maker lies\n In deeps concealed from human view;\n Ye saints, behold him sink and rise;\n A fit example this for you:\n The sacred record, while you read,\n Calls you to imitate the deed.\n\n 3 But, lo! from yonder opening skies,\n What beams of dazzling glory spread!\n Dove-like the Holy Spirit flies,\n And lights on the Redeemer's head:\n Amazed they see the power divine\n Around the Saviour's temples shine.\n\n 4 But, hark! my soul, hark, and adore!\n What sounds are those that roll along?\n Not loud, like Sinai's awful roar;\n But soft and sweet as Gabriel's song:\n \"This is my well-beloved Son,\n I see well-pleased what he hath done.\"\n\n 5 Thus the eternal Father spoke,\n Who shakes creation with a nod,\n Through parting skies the accents broke,\n And bid us hear the Son of God;\n O hear the awful word to-day;\n Hear, all ye nations, and obey!\n\n\n143 L. M.\n His holy life.\n\n And is the gospel peace and love?\n Such let our conversation be:\n The serpent blended with the dove--\n Wisdom and meek simplicity.\n\n 2 Whene'er the angry passions rise,\n And tempt our thoughts or tongues to strife\n On Jesus let us fix our eyes,\n Bright pattern of the Christian life.\n\n 3 O how benevolent and kind!\n How mild! how ready to forgive!\n Be his the temper of our mind,\n And his the rules by which we live.\n\n 4 To do his heavenly Father's will\n Was his employment and delight;\n Humility, and love, and zeal,\n Shone through his life divinely bright.\n\n 5 Dispensing good where'er he came,\n The labors of his life were love--\n O! if we love the Saviour's name,\n Let his divine example move.\n\n 6 But ah! how blind, how weak we are!\n How frail, how apt to turn aside!\n Lord, we depend upon thy care;\n O may thy spirit be our guide!\n\n 7 Thy fair example may we trace,\n To teach us what we ought to be;\n Make us, by thy transforming grace,\n Lord Jesus, daily more like thee.\n\n\n144 L. M.\n The meekness and gentleness of Christ.\n 2 Cor. 10:1.\n\n How beauteous were the marks divine,\n That in thy meekness used to shine;\n That lit thy lonely pathway, trod\n In wondrous love, O Son of God!\n\n 2 O, who like thee--so calm, so bright,\n So pure, so made to live in light?\n O, who like thee did ever go\n So patient through a world of woe?\n\n 3 O, who like thee so humbly bore\n The scorn, the scoffs of men, before?\n So meek, forgiving, godlike, high,\n So glorious in humility?\n\n 4 The bending angels stooped to see,\n The lisping infant clasp thy knee,\n And smile, as in a father's eye,\n Upon thy mild divinity.\n\n 5 And death, which sets the prisoner free,\n Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to thee;\n Yet love through all thy torture glowed,\n And mercy with thy life-blood flowed.\n\n 6 O, in thy light be mine to go,\n Illuming all my way of woe;\n And give me ever on the road\n To trace thy footsteps, Son of God!\n\n\n145 L. M.\n His miracles.\n\n Behold the blind their sight receive!\n Behold the dead awake and live!\n The dumb speak wonders, and the lame\n Leap like the hart, and bless his name!\n\n 2 Thus doth the Holy Spirit own\n And seal the mission of the Son;\n The Father vindicates his cause,\n While he hangs bleeding on the cross.\n\n 3 He dies: the heavens in mourning stood;\n He rises by the power of God:\n Behold the Lord ascending high,\n No more to bleed, no more to die!\n\n 4 Hence and for ever from my heart\n I bid my doubts and fears depart;\n And to those hands my soul resign,\n Which bear credentials so divine.\n\n\n146 L. M.\n His example.\n\n My dear Redeemer and my Lord,\n I read my duty in thy word;\n But in thy life the law appears\n Drawn out in living characters.\n\n 2 Such was thy truth, and such thy zeal,\n Such deference to thy Father's will,\n Such love, and meekness so divine;\n I would transcribe and make them mine.\n\n 3 Cold mountains and the midnight air\n Witnessed the fervor of thy prayer;\n The desert thy temptations knew,\n Thy conflict and thy victory too.\n\n 4 Be thou my pattern; make me bear\n More of thy gracious image here;\n Then God the judge shall own my name\n Among the followers of the Lamb.\n\n\n147 L. M.\n He so loved the world.\n John 3:16.\n\n Not to condemn the sons of men,\n Did Christ, the Son of God, appear;\n No weapons in his hands are seen,\n No flaming sword, nor thunder there.\n\n 2 Such was the pity of our God,\n He loved the race of man so well,\n He sent his Son to bear our load\n Of sins, and save our souls from hell.\n\n 3 Sinners, believe the Saviour's word;\n Trust in his mighty name, and live:\n A thousand joys his lips afford,\n His hands a thousand blessings give.\n\n\n148 C. H. M.\n His poverty.\n\n As much have I of worldly good\n As e'er my Master had;\n I diet on as dainty food,\n And am as richly clad;\n Though plain my garb, though scant my hoard,\n As Mary's Son and nature's Lord.\n\n 2 The manger was his infant bed,\n His home the mountain cave;\n He had not where to lay his head--\n He borrowed e'en his grave;\n Earth yielded him no resting-spot;\n Her Maker, but she knew him not.\n\n 3 As much the world's good-will I share,\n Its favors and applause,\n As he whose blessed name I bear,\n Hated without a cause;\n Despised, rejected, mocked by pride,\n Betrayed, forsaken, crucified.\n\n 4 Why should I court my Master's foe?\n Why should I fear its frown?\n Why should I seek for rest below?\n Or sigh for brief renown?\n A pilgrim to a better land,\n An heir of joy at God's right hand.\n\n\n149 C. M.\n He went about doing good.\n Acts 10:38.\n\n Behold, where, in a mortal form,\n Appears each grace divine;\n The virtues, all in Jesus met,\n With mildest radiance shine.\n\n 2 To spread the rays of heavenly light,\n To give the mourner joy,\n To preach glad tidings to the poor,\n Was his divine employ.\n\n 3 'Midst keen reproach, and cruel scorn,\n Patient and meek he stood;\n His foes, ungrateful, sought his life;\n He labored for their good.\n\n 4 In the last hour of deep distress,\n Before his Father's throne,\n With soul resigned, he bowed, and said,\n \"Thy will, not mine, be done!\"\n\n 5 Be Christ our pattern and our guide;\n His image may we bear;\n O, may we tread his holy steps,\n His joy and glory share!\n\n\n150 C. M.\n The man of sorrows.\n\n A pilgrim through this lonely world,\n The blessed Saviour passed;\n A mourner all his life was he,\n A dying Lamb at last.\n\n 2 That tender heart which felt for all,\n For us its life-blood gave;\n It found on earth no resting-place,\n Save only in the grave!\n\n 3 Such was our Lord: and shall we fear\n The cross with all its scorn?\n Or love a faithless, evil world,\n That wreathed his brow with thorn?\n\n 4 No; facing all its frowns or smiles,\n Like him, obedient still,\n We homeward press, through storm or calm,\n To Zion's blessed hill.\n\n\n151 C. M.\n Mighty to save.\n\n The winds were howling o'er the deep;\n Each wave a watery hill;\n The Saviour wakened from his sleep;\n He spake, and all was still.\n\n 2 The madman in a tomb had made\n His mansion of despair;\n Woe to the traveler who strayed,\n With heedless footsteps, there.\n\n 3 He met that glance so thrilling sweet,\n He heard those accents mild;\n And, melting at Messiah's feet,\n Wept like a weaned child.\n\n 4 O, madder than the raving man!\n O, deafer than the sea!\n How long the time since Christ began\n To call in vain to me!\n\n 5 Yet could I hear him once again,\n As I have heard of old,\n Methinks he should not call in vain\n His wanderer to the fold.\n\n\n152 C. P. M.\n His unsearchable riches.\n\n O could I speak the matchless worth,\n O could I sound the glories forth,\n Which in my Saviour shine;\n I'd soar, and touch the heavenly strings,\n And vie with Gabriel, while he sings\n In notes almost divine.\n\n 2 I'd sing the precious blood he spilt,\n My ransom from the dreadful guilt\n Of sin, and wrath divine;\n I'd sing his glorious righteousness,\n In which all-perfect, heavenly dress,\n My soul shall ever shine.\n\n 3 I'd sing the characters he bears,\n And all the forms of love he wears,\n Exalted on his throne;\n In loftiest songs of sweetest praise,\n I would to everlasting days\n Make all his glories known.\n\n 4 Well, the delightful day will come,\n When my dear Lord will bring me home,\n And I shall see his face;\n Then, with my Saviour, Brother, Friend,\n A blest eternity I'll spend,\n Triumphant in his grace.\n\n\n153 11s.\n A bruised reed he shall not break.\n Matt. 12:20.\n\n To the hall of that feast came the sinful and fair:\n She heard in the city that Jesus was there:\n Unheeding the splendor that blazed on the board,\n She silently knelt at the feet of her Lord!\n\n 2 The hair on her forehead, so sad and so meek,\n Hung dark on the blushes that glowed on her cheek;\n And so sad and so lowly she knelt in her shame,\n It seemed that her spirit had fled from her frame.\n\n 3 The frown and the murmur went round thro' them all,\n That one so unhallowed should tread in the hall;\n And some said the poor would be objects more meet\n For the wealth of the perfume she showered on his feet.\n\n 4 She heard but her Saviour--she spoke but in sighs,\n She dared not look up to the heaven of his eyes:\n And the hot tears gushed forth at each heave of her breast,\n As her lips to his sandals she throbbingly pressed.\n\n 5 In the sky, after tempest, as shineth the bow,\n In the glance of the sunbeam as melteth the snow,\n Ho looked on the lost one--her sins were forgiven,\n And Mary went forth in the beauty of heaven!\n\n\n154 10s & 11s, peculiar.\n Sacred tears.\n\n Draw near, ye weary, bowed, and broken-hearted,\n Ye onward travelers to a peaceful bourne;\n Ye from whose path the light hath all departed;\n Ye who are left in solitude to mourn;\n Though o'er your spirits hath the storm-cloud swept,\n Sacred are sorrow's tears, since \"Jesus wept.\"\n\n 2 The bright and spotless heir of endless glory,\n Wept o'er the woes of those he came to save;\n And angels wondered when they heard the story\n That he who conquered death wept o'er the grave;\n For 'twas not when his lonely watch he kept\n In dark Gethsemane, that \"Jesus wept.\"\n\n 3 But with the friends he loved, whose hope had perished,\n The Saviour stood, while through his bosom rushed\n A tide of sympathy for those he cherished,\n And from his eyes the burning tear-drops gushed;\n And bending o'er the tomb where Lazarus slept,\n In agony of spirit, \"Jesus wept.\"\n\n 4 Lo! Jesus' power the sleep of death hath broken,\n And wiped the tear from sorrow's drooping eye!\n Look up, ye mourners, hear what he hath spoken:\n \"He that believes on me, shall never die.\"\n Through faith and love your spirits shall be kept;\n Hope brighter grew on earth when \"Jesus wept.\"\n\n\n155 C. M. D.\n He made himself of no reputation.\n Phil. 2:7.\n\n He came with his heavenly crown,\n His scepter clad with power;\n His coming was in feebleness,\n The infant of an hour;\n An humble manger cradled, first,\n The Virgin's holy birth,\n And lowing herds surrounded there\n The Lord of heaven and earth.\n\n 2 He came, not in his robe of wrath,\n With arm outstretched to slay;\n But on the darkling paths of earth,\n To pour celestial day;\n To guide in peace the wandering feet,\n The broken heart to bind,\n And bear upon the painful cross,\n The sins of human kind.\n\n 3 And thou hast borne them, Saviour meek!\n And therefore unto thee,\n In humbleness and gratitude,\n Our hearts shall offered be;\n Our contrite hearts, an offering, Lord,\n Which thou wilt not despise,\n Our souls, our bodies, all be thine,\n A living sacrifice!\n\n\n156 8s, 7s & 7s.\n Jesus wept.\n\n Jesus wept! those tears are over,\n But his heart is still the same;\n Kinsman, Friend, and Elder Brother,\n Is his everlasting name.\n Saviour, who can love like thee?\n Gracious one of Bethany!\n\n 2 When the pangs of trial seize us,\n When the waves of sorrow roll,\n I will lay my head on Jesus--\n Pillow of the troubled soul.\n Truly, none can feel like thee,\n Weeping one of Bethany!\n\n 3 Jesus wept, and still in glory\n He can mark each mourner's tear--\n Living to retrace the story\n Of the hearts he solaced here.\n Lord, when I am called to die,\n Let me think of Bethany!\n\n 4 Jesus wept! that tear of sorrow\n Is a legacy of love;\n Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow,\n He the same shall ever prove.\n Thou art all in all to me,\n Living one of Bethany!\n\n\n\n\n CHRIST: SUFFERINGS.\n\n\n157 L. M.\n Christ the sufferer.\n\n O suffering Friend of human kind!\n How, as the fatal hour drew near,\n Came thronging on thy holy mind\n The images of grief and fear!\n\n 2 Gethsemane's sad midnight scene,\n The faithless friends, th' exulting foes,\n The thorny crown, the insult keen,\n The scourge, the cross, before thee rose.\n\n 3 Did not thy spirit shrink dismayed,\n As the dark vision o'er it came;\n And, though in sinless strength arrayed,\n Turn, shuddering, from the death of shame?\n\n 4 Onward, like thee, through scorn and dread,\n May we our Father's call obey,\n Steadfast thy path of duty tread,\n And rise, through death, to endless day.\n\n\n158 L. M.\n Led as a lamb to the slaughter.\n\n The morning dawns upon the place\n Where Jesus spent the night in prayer;\n Through yielding glooms behold his face!\n Nor form, nor comeliness is there.\n\n 2 Brought forth to judgment, now he stands\n Arraigned, condemned, at Pilate's bar;\n Here, spurned by fierce pretorian bands;\n There, mocked by Herod's men of war.\n\n 3 He bears their buffeting and scorn--\n Mock-homage of the lip, the knee--\n The purple robe, the crown of thorn--\n The scourge, the nail, the accursed tree.\n\n 4 No guile within his mouth is found;\n He neither threatens nor complains;\n Meek as a lamb for slaughter bound,\n Dumb 'mid his murderers he remains.\n\n 5 But hark, he prays; 'tis for his foes\n And speaks: 'tis comfort to his friends;\n Answers: and paradise bestows;\n He bows his head: the conflict ends.\n\n\n159 L. M.\n The midnight agony.\n\n 'Tis midnight; and on Olive's brow\n The star is dimmed that lately shone;\n 'Tis midnight; in the garden now,\n The suffering Saviour prays alone.\n\n 2 'Tis midnight; and, from all removed,\n The Saviour wrestles lone, with fears;\n E'en that disciple whom he loved\n Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.\n\n 3 'Tis midnight; and for others' guilt\n The man of sorrows weeps in blood;\n Yet he that hath in anguish knelt\n Is not forsaken by his God.\n\n 4 'Tis midnight; from the heavenly plains\n Is borne the song that angels know;\n Unheard by mortals are the strains\n That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe.\n\n\n160 C. M.\n The bitter cup.\n\n Dark was the night, and cold the ground\n On which the Lord was laid:\n His sweat like drops of blood ran down;\n In agony he prayed.\n\n 2 \"Father, remove this bitter cup,\n If such thy sacred will;\n If not, content to drink it up,\n Thy pleasure I fulfill.\"\n\n 3 Go to the garden, sinner: see\n Those precious drops that flow;\n The heavy load he bore for thee:\n For thee he lies so low.\n\n 4 Then learn of him the cross to bear,\n Thy Father's will obey;\n And, when temptations press thee near,\n Awake to watch and pray.\n\n\n161 S. M.\n He beheld the city, and wept over it.\n Luke 19:41.\n\n Did Christ o'er sinners weep,\n And shall our cheeks be dry?\n Let tears of penitential grief\n Flow forth from every eye.\n\n 2 The Son of God in tears,\n The wondering angels see;\n Be thou astonished, O my soul,\n He shed those tears for thee.\n\n 3 He wept that we might weep,\n Each sin demands a tear,\n In heaven alone no sin is found\n And there's no weeping there.\n\n\n162 7s, 6 lines.\n His example in suffering.\n\n Go to dark Gethsemane,\n Ye that feel the tempter's power;\n Your Redeemer's conflict see;\n Watch with him one bitter hour:\n Turn not from his griefs away;\n Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.\n\n 2 Follow to the judgment hall:\n View the Lord of life arraigned;\n O, the wormwood and the gall!\n O, the pangs his soul sustained!\n Shun not suffering, shame, or loss;\n Learn of him to bear the cross.\n\n 3 Calvary's mournful mountain climb;\n There, admiring at his feet,\n Mark that miracle of time,\n God's own sacrifice complete:\n \"It is finished,\" hear him cry;\n Learn of Jesus Christ to die.\n\n\n163 6s & 5s.\n Christ in the garden.\n\n Night with ebon pinion,\n Brooded o'er the vale;\n All around was silent,\n Save the night-wind's wail;\n When Christ the man of sorrows,\n In tears, and sweat, and blood,\n Prostrate in the garden,\n Raised his voice to God.\n\n 2 Smitten for offenses\n Which were not his own,\n He, for our transgressions,\n Had to weep alone,\n No friend with words to comfort,\n Nor hand to help was there.\n When the meek and lowly,\n Humbly bowed in prayer.\n\n 3 Abba, Father, Father!\n If indeed it may,\n Let this cup of anguish,\n Pass from me, I pray.\n Yet, if it must be suffered,\n By me, thine only Son,\n Abba, Father, Father,\n Let thy will be done.\n\n\n164 P. M.\n Gethsemane.\n\n Beyond where Cedron's waters flow,\n Behold the suffering Saviour go\n To sad Gethsemane;\n His countenance is all divine,\n Yet grief appears in every line.\n\n 2 He bows beneath the sins of men;\n He cries to God, and cries again,\n In sad Gethsemane:\n He lifts his mournful eyes above--\n \"My Father, can this cup remove?\"\n\n 3 With gentle resignation still,\n He yielded to his Father's will\n In sad Gethsemane;\n \"Behold me here, thine only Son;\n And, Father, let thy will be done.\"\n\n 4 The Father heard; and angels, there,\n Sustained the Son of God in prayer,\n In sad Gethsemane:\n He drank the dreadful cup of pain--\n Then rose to life and joy again.\n\n 5 When storms of sorrow round us sweep,\n And scenes of anguish make us weep,\n To sad Gethsemane\n We'll look, and see the Saviour there,\n And humbly bow, like him, in prayer.\n\n\n165 C. H. M.\n Agony in the garden.\n\n He knelt; the Saviour knelt and prayed,\n When but his Father's eye\n Looked, through the lonely garden shade,\n On that dread agony;\n The Lord of high and heavenly birth\n Was bowed with sorrow unto death.\n\n 2 The sun went down in fearful hour;\n The heavens might well grow dim,\n When this mortality had power\n Thus to o'ershadow him;\n That he who came to save might know\n The very depths of human woe.\n\n 3 He knew them all--the doubt, the strife,\n The faint, perplexing dread;\n The mists that hang o'er parting life\n All darkened round his head;\n And the Deliverer knelt to pray;\n Yet passed it not, that cup, away.\n\n 4 It passed not, though the stormy wave\n Had sunk beneath his tread;\n It passed not, though to him the grave\n Had yielded up its dead;\n But there was sent him, from on high,\n A gift of strength, for man to die.\n\n 5 And was his mortal hour beset\n With anguish and dismay?\n How may we meet our conflict yet\n In the dark, narrow way?\n How, but through him that path who trod:\n \"Save, or we perish, Son of God.\"\n\n\n166 S. H. M.\n Betrayal.\n\n Among the mountain trees,\n The winds were whispering low,\n And night's ten thousand harmonies\n Were harmonies of woe;\n A voice of grief was on the gale,\n It came from Cedron's gloomy vale.\n\n 2 It was the Saviour's prayer\n That on the silence broke,\n Imploring strength from heaven to bear\n The sin-avenging stroke,\n As in Gethsemane he knelt,\n And pangs unknown his bosom felt.\n\n 3 The fitful starlight shone\n In dim and misty gleams,\n Deep was his agonizing groan,\n And large the vital streams\n That trickled to the dewy sod,\n While Jesus raised his voice to God.\n\n 4 The chosen three that staid,\n Their nightly watch to keep,\n Left him through sorrows deep to wade,\n And gave themselves to sleep:\n Meekly and sad he prayed alone;\n Strangely forgotten by his own.\n\n 5 Along the streamlet's bank\n The reckless traitor came,\n And heavy on his bosom sank\n The load of guilt and shame;\n Yet unto them that waited nigh\n He gave the Lamb of God to die.\n\n 6 Among the mountain trees\n The winds were whispering low,\n And night's ten thousand harmonies\n Were harmonies of woe;\n For cruel voices filled the gale\n That came from Cedron's gloomy vale.\n\n\n167 11s.\n Thou sweet gliding Cedron.\n\n Thou sweet gliding Cedron, by thy silver stream\n Our Saviour would linger in moonlight's soft beam:\n And by thy bright waters till midnight would stay,\n And lose in thy murmurs the toils of the day.\n CHORUS.\n Come, saints, and adore him; come bow at his feet;\n O give him the glory, the praise that is meet;\n Let joyful hosannas unceasing arise,\n And join the full chorus that gladdens the skies.\n\n 2 How damp were the vapors that fell on his head,\n How hard was his pillow, how humble his bed;\n The angels beholding, amazed at the sight,\n Attended their Master with solemn delight.\n\n 3 O garden of Olives! thou dear honored spot,\n The fame of thy wonders shall ne'er be forgot;\n The theme most transporting to seraphs above,\n The triumph of sorrow, the triumph of love!\n\n\n\n\n THE CRUCIFIXION.\n\n\n168 L. M.\n The bitter cry.\n\n From Calvary a cry was heard--\n A bitter and heart-rending cry:\n My Saviour! every mournful word\n Bespeaks thy soul's deep agony.\n\n 2 A horror of great darkness fell\n On thee, thou spotless holy One!\n And all the swarming hosts of hell\n Conspired to tempt God's only Son.\n\n 3 The scourge, the thorns, the deep disgrace--\n These thou couldst bear, nor once repine;\n But when Jehovah vailed his face,\n Unutterable pangs were thine.\n\n 4 Let the dumb world its silence break;\n Let pealing anthems rend the sky;\n Awake, my sluggish soul, awake!\n He died, that we might never die.\n\n 5 Lord! on thy cross I fix mine eye;\n If e'er I lose its strong control,\n O! let that dying, piercing cry,\n Melt and reclaim my wandering soul.\n\n\n169 L. M.\n Looking to the cross.\n\n O Lord! when faith with fixed eyes\n Beholds thy wondrous sacrifice,\n Love rises to an ardent flame,\n And we all other hope disclaim.\n\n 2 With cold affections who can see\n The thorns, the scourge, the nails, the tree,\n The flowing tears and crimson sweat,\n The bleeding hands, and head, and feet?\n\n 3 Jesus, what millions of our race\n Have seen the triumphs of thy grace!\n And millions more to thee shall fly,\n And on thy sacrifice rely.\n\n 4 The sorrow, shame, and death, were thine,\n And all the stores of wrath divine!\n Ours are the pardon, life, and bliss;\n What love can be compared to this!\n\n\n170 L. M.\n Herein is love!\n 1 John 4:10.\n\n Have we no tears to shed for him,\n While soldiers scoff, and Jews deride?\n Ah! look, how patiently he hangs--\n Jesus, our Love, is crucified!\n\n 2 What was thy crime, my dearest Lord?\n By earth, by heaven, thou hast been tried,\n And guilty found of too much love;\n Jesus, our Love, is crucified!\n\n 3 Found guilty of excess of love,\n It was thine own sweet will that tied\n Thee tighter far than helpless nails;\n Jesus, our Love, is crucified!\n\n 4 O break, O break, hard heart of mine!\n Thy weak self-love and guilty pride\n His Pilate and his Judas were;\n Jesus, our Love, is crucified!\n\n\n171 L. M.\n Behold the Man!\n\n Behold the Man! how glorious he!\n Before his foes he stands unawed,\n And, without wrong or blasphemy,\n He claims equality with God.\n\n 2 Behold the Man! by all condemned,\n Assaulted by a host of foes;\n His person and his claims contemned:\n A Man of suffering and of woes.\n\n 3 Behold the Man! he stands alone,\n His foes are ready to devour;\n Not one of all his friends will own\n Their Master in this trying hour.\n\n 4 Behold the Man! though scorned below,\n He bears the greatest name above;\n The angels at his footstool bow,\n And all his royal claims approve.\n\n\n172 L. M.\n Darkness and light.\n\n He dies, the friend of winners dies!\n Lo! Salem's daughters weep around!\n A solemn darkness vails the skies,\n A sudden trembling shakes the ground.\n\n 2 Here's love and grief beyond degree!\n The Lord of glory dies for men!\n But, lo! what sudden joys we see--\n Jesus the dead revives again!\n\n 3 The rising Lord forsakes the tomb!\n (The tomb in vain forbids his rise!)\n Cherubic legions guard him home,\n And shout him welcome to the skies!\n\n 4 Break off your tears, you saints, and tell\n How high our great Deliverer reigns;\n Sing how he spoiled the hosts of hell,\n And led the monster Death in chains.\n\n 5 Say, \"Live for ever, wondrous King!\n Born to redeem, and strong to save!\"\n Then ask the monster, \"Where's thy sting?\n And where's thy victory, boasting grave?\"\n\n\n173 C. M.\n His condescension.\n\n And did the holy and the just,\n The Sovereign of the skies,\n Stoop down to wretchedness and dust\n That guilty man might rise?\n\n 2 Yes, the Redeemer left his throne,\n His radiant throne on high;\n Surpassing mercy! love unknown!\n To suffer, bleed, and die.\n\n 3 He took the dying rebel's place,\n And suffered in our stead;\n For sinful man, O wondrous grace!\n For sinful man he bled!\n\n 4 O Lord! what heavenly wonders dwell\n In thy most precious blood?\n By this are sinners saved from hell,\n And rebels brought to God.\n\n\n174 C. M.\n He conquered when he fell.\n\n We sing the Saviour's wondrous death--\n He conquered when he fell:\n 'Tis finished, said his dying breath,\n And shook the gates of hell.\n\n 2 'Tis finished, our Immanuel cries,\n The dreadful work is done;\n Hence shall his sovereign throne arise,\n His kingdom is begun.\n\n 3 His cross a sure foundation laid\n For glory and renown,\n When through the regions of the dead\n He passed to reach the crown.\n\n 4 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,\n His praises to record;\n Sweet be the accents of your songs\n To your victorious Lord.\n\n 5 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings,\n Your sweetest voices raise;\n Let heaven and all created things\n Sound our Immanuel's praise!\n\n\n175 C. M.\n They nailed him to the cross.\n\n Behold the Saviour of mankind\n Nailed to the shameful tree!\n How vast the love that him inclined\n To bleed and die for me!\n\n 2 Hark! how he groans, while nature shakes,\n And earth's strong pillars bend!\n The temple's vail asunder breaks,\n The solid marbles rend.\n\n 3 'Tis finished! now the ransom's paid,\n \"Receive my soul!\" he cries:\n See--how he bows his sacred head!\n He bows his head and dies!\n\n 4 But soon from death he'll rise again,\n And in full glory shine;\n O Lamb of God! was ever pain--\n Was ever love like thine?\n\n\n176 C. M.\n The dying penitent.\n\n As on the cross the Saviour hung,\n And groaned, and bled, and died,\n He looked with pity on a wretch\n That languished by his side.\n\n 2 The dying thief in Jesus saw\n A majesty divine;\n While scoffing Jews around him stood,\n And asked him for a sign!\n\n 3 The kingdom, Lord, is thine, he said;\n 'Tis thine o'er men to reign:\n Thy wondrous works thy lordship prove,\n These pains thy love proclaim:\n\n 4 Honors divine await thee soon,\n A scepter and a crown:\n With shame thy foes shall yet behold\n Thee seated on a throne.\n\n 5 Then, gracious Lord, remember me!\n Is not forgiveness thine?\n My crimes have brought me to thy side--\n Thy love brought thee to mine!\n\n 6 His prayer the dying Jesus hears,\n And instantly replies,\n To-day your parting soul shall be\n With me in paradise.\n\n\n177 7s & 6s.\n Surely he hath borne our griefs.\n\n O sacred head, now wounded,\n With grief and shame weighed down--\n O sacred brow, surrounded\n With thorns, thine only crown:\n Once on a throne of glory,\n Adorned with light divine;\n Now all despised and gory,\n I joy to call thee mine.\n\n 2 On me, as thou art dying,\n O, turn thy pitying eye;\n To thee for mercy crying,\n Before thy cross I lie.\n Thine, thine the bitter passion;\n Thy pain is all for me;\n Mine, mine the deep transgression;\n My sins are all on thee.\n\n 3 What language can I borrow\n To praise thee, heavenly Friend,\n For all this dying sorrow,\n Of all my woes the end?\n O, can I leave thee ever?\n Then do not thou leave me;\n Lord, let me never, never\n Outlive my love to thee.\n\n 4 Be near when I am dying;\n Then close beside me stand;\n Let me, while faint and sighing,\n Lean calmly on thy hand:\n These eyes, new faith receiving,\n From thee shall never move,\n For he who dies believing,\n Dies safely--in thy love.\n\n\n178 8s, 7s & 4.\n It is finished.\n John 19:30.\n\n Hark! the voice of love and mercy\n Sounds aloud from Calvary;\n See! it rends the rocks asunder,\n Shakes the earth and vails the sky!\n It is finished!\n Hear the dying Saviour cry.\n\n 2 It is finished! O what pleasure\n Do these precious words afford!\n Heavenly blessings without measure\n Flow to us from Christ the Lord;\n It is finished!\n Saints, the dying words record.\n\n 3 Finished all the types and shadows\n Of the ceremonial law!\n Finished all that God had promised;\n Death and hell no more shall awe:\n It is finished!\n Saints, from this your comfort draw.\n\n 4 Tune your harps anew, you seraphs,\n Join to sing the pleasing theme;\n All on earth and all in heaven,\n Join to praise Immanuel's name:\n Hallelujah!\n Glory to the bleeding Lamb!\n\n\n179 8s & 6s.\n Behold the Lamb of God.\n John 1:20.\n\n The Son of Man they did betray;\n He was condemned, and led away,\n Think, O my soul, on that dread day,\n Look on Mount Calvary;\n Behold him, lamb-like, led along\n Surrounded by a wicked throng,\n Accused by every lying tongue,\n And then the Lamb of God they hung\n Upon the shameful tree.\n\n 2 Now, hung between the earth and skies,\n Behold! in agony he dies;\n O sinners, hear his mournful cries,\n Come, see his torturing pain!\n The morning sun withdrew his light,\n Blushed, and refused to view the sight,\n The azure clothed in robes of night,\n All nature mourned, and stood affright,\n When Christ the Lord was slain.\n\n 3 All glory be to God on high,\n Who reigns enthroned above the sky;\n Who sent his Son to bleed and die;\n Glory to him be given:\n While heaven above his praise resounds,\n O Zion, sing--his grace abounds;\n I hope to shout eternal rounds,\n In flaming love that knows no bounds,\n When glorified in heaven.\n\n\n\n\n BURIAL AND RESURRECTION.\n\n\n180 L. M.\n He rose--according to the Scriptures.\n 1 Cor. 15:4.\n\n When we the sacred grave survey,\n In which the Saviour deigned to lie,\n We see fulfilled what prophets say,\n And all the power of death defy,\n\n 2 This empty tomb shall now proclaim\n How weak the bands of conquered death;\n Sure pledge that all who trust his name\n Shall rise and draw immortal breath.\n\n 3 Our surety freed declares us free,\n For whose offenses he was seized:\n In his release our own we see,\n And joy to see Jehovah pleased.\n\n 4 Jesus, once numbered with the dead,\n Unseals his eyes to sleep no more;\n And ever lives their cause to plead,\n For whom the pains of death he bore.\n\n 5 Then, though in dust we lay our head,\n Yet, gracious God, thou wilt not leave\n Our flesh for ever with the dead,\n Nor lose thy children in the grave!\n\n\n181 L. M.\n The joy that was set before him.\n Heb. 12:2.\n\n Now for a song of lofty praise\n To great Jehovah's only Son;\n Awake, my voice, in heavenly lays,\n And tell the wonders he hath done.\n\n 2 Sing how he left the worlds of light,\n And those bright robes he wore above:\n How swift and joyful was his flight,\n On wings of everlasting love!\n\n 3 Deep in the shades of gloomy death,\n Th' almighty Captive prisoner lay;\n Th' almighty Captive left the earth,\n And rose to everlasting day.\n\n 4 Among a thousand harps and songs,\n Jesus, the Lord, exalted reigns:\n His sacred name fills all their tongues,\n And echoes through the heavenly plains.\n\n\n182 C. M.\n He hath begotten us to a lively hope.\n 1 Peter 1:3.\n\n Blessed be the everlasting God,\n The Father of our Lord;\n Be his abounding mercy praised,\n His majesty adored.\n\n 2 When from the dead he raised his Son,\n And called him to the sky,\n He gave our souls a lively hope\n That they should never die.\n\n 3 What though the first man's sin requires\n Our flesh to see the dust;\n Yet, as the Lord our Saviour rose,\n So all his followers must.\n\n 4 There's an inheritance divine,\n Reserved against that day;\n 'Tis uncorrupted, undefiled,\n And can not fade away!\n\n 5 Saints by the power of God are kept,\n Till the salvation come;\n We walk by faith as strangers here,\n Till Christ shall take us home.\n\n\n183 C. M.\n Now is Christ risen from the dead.\n 1 Cor. 15:20.\n\n Blest morning! whose young dawning rays\n Beheld our rising Lord:\n That saw him triumph o'er the dust,\n And leave his dark abode.\n\n 2 In the cold prison of a tomb\n The great Redeemer lay,\n Till the revolving skies had brought\n The third, th' appointed day.\n\n 3 Hell and the grave unite their force\n To hold our Lord, in vain;\n The sleeping Conqueror arose,\n And burst their feeble chain.\n\n 4 To thy great name, almighty Lord,\n These sacred hours we pay;\n And loud hosannas shall proclaim\n The triumph of the day.\n\n 5 Salvation and immortal praise\n To our victorious King!\n Let heaven, and earth, and rocks, and seas,\n With glad hosannas ring.\n\n\n184 C. M.\n The forsaken sepulcher.\n\n Ye humble souls that seek the Lord,\n Chase all your fears away;\n And bow with reverence down, to see\n The place where Jesus lay.\n\n 2 Thus low the Lord of life was brought;\n Such wonders love can do!\n Thus cold in death that bosom lay,\n Which throbbed and bled for you.\n\n 3 If ye have wept at yonder cross,\n And still your sorrows rise,\n Stoop down and view the vanquished grave,\n Then wipe your weeping eyes.\n\n 4 But dry your tears, and tune your songs,\n The Saviour lives again;\n Not all the bolts and bars of death\n The Conqueror could detain.\n\n 5 High o'er the angelic band he rears\n His once dishonored head;\n And through unnumbered years he reigns,\n Who dwelt among the dead.\n\n\n185 C. M.\n The Resurrection, and the Life.\n\n Hosanna to the Prince of light,\n That clothed himself in the clay,\n Entered the iron gates of death,\n And tore the bars away.\n\n 2 Death is no more the king of dread,\n Since our Immanuel rose;\n He took the tyrant's sting away,\n And spoiled our hellish foes.\n\n 3 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,\n To reach his blest abode;\n Sweet be the accents of your songs\n To our incarnate God.\n\n 4 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings,\n Your sweetest voices raise,\n Let heaven and all created things,\n Sound our Immanuel's praise.\n\n\n186 C. H. M.\n The Lord is risen.\n\n How calm and beautiful the morn\n That gilds the sacred tomb\n Where once the Crucified was borne,\n And vailed in midnight gloom!\n Oh! weep no more the Saviour slain;\n The Lord is risen--he lives again.\n\n 2 Ye mourning saints! dry every tear\n For your departed Lord;\n \"Behold the place--he is not here;\"\n The tomb is all unbarred:\n The gates of death were closed in vain,\n The Lord is risen--he lives again.\n\n 3 Now cheerful to the house of prayer\n Your early footsteps bend,\n The Saviour will himself be there,\n Your advocate and friend:\n Once by the law your hopes were slain,\n But now in Christ ye live again.\n\n 4 How tranquil now the rising day!\n 'Tis Jesus still appears,\n A risen Lord to chase away\n Your unbelieving fears:\n O! weep no more your comforts slain;\n The Lord is risen--he lives again.\n\n 5 And when the shades of evening fall,\n When life's last hour draws nigh--\n If Jesus shine upon the soul,\n How blissful then to die:\n Since he has risen who once was slain,\n Ye die in Christ to live again.\n\n\n187 S. M.\n Redemption completed.\n\n \"The Lord is risen indeed!\"\n Then is his work performed;\n The mighty captive now is freed,\n And death, our foe, disarmed.\n\n 2 \"The Lord is risen indeed!\"\n He lives to die no more;\n He lives, his people's cause to plead,\n Whose curse and shame he bore.\n\n 3 \"The Lord is risen indeed!\"\n The grave has lost his prey:\n With him is risen the ransomed seed,\n To reign in endless day.\n\n 4 \"The Lord is risen indeed!\"--\n Attending angels! hear;\n Up to the courts of heaven with speed,\n The joyful tidings bear.\n\n 5 Then wake your golden lyres,\n And strike each cheerful chord;\n Join, all ye bright, celestial choirs!\n To sing our risen Lord.\n\n\n188 H. M.\n Thou reigning Son of God.\n\n Yes, the Redeemer rose:\n The Saviour left the dead,\n And o'er his hellish foes\n High raised his conquering head:\n In wild dismay,\n The guards around\n Fall to the ground,\n And sink away.\n\n 2 Lo! the angelic bands\n In full assembly meet,\n To wait his high commands,\n And worship at his feet:\n Joyful they come,\n And wing their way\n From realms of day\n To Jesus' tomb.\n\n 3 Then back to heaven they fly,\n The joyful news to bear;\n Hark! as they soar on high\n What music fills the air:\n Their anthems say,\n Jesus who bled\n Has left the dead--\n He rose to-day!\n\n 4 You mortals, catch the sound,\n Redeemed by him from hell,\n And send the echo round\n The globe on which you dwell:\n Transported cry,\n Jesus who bled\n Has left the dead\n No more to die!\n\n 5 All hail! triumphant Lord,\n Who saved us by thy blood:\n Wide be thy name adored,\n Thou reigning Son of God!\n With thee we rise,\n With thee we reign,\n And kingdoms gain\n Beyond the skies.\n\n\n189 7s.\n The stone rolled away.\n\n Angels! roll the rock away;\n Death! yield up thy mighty prey;\n See! the Saviour leaves the tomb,\n Glowing with immortal bloom.\n\n 2 Hark! the wondering angels raise\n Louder notes of joyful praise:\n Let the earth's remotest bound\n Echo with the blissful sound.\n\n 3 Now, ye saints! lift up your eyes,\n See him high in glory rise!\n Ranks of angels, on the road,\n Hail him--the incarnate God.\n\n 4 Heaven unfolds its portals wide,\n See the Conqueror through them ride!\n King of glory! mount thy throne--\n Boundless empire is thine own.\n\n 5 Praise him, ye celestial choirs!\n Tune, and sweep your golden lyres:\n Raise, O earth! your noblest songs,\n From ten thousand thousand tongues.\n\n\n190 7s.\n Christ, the first fruits.\n\n Christ, the Lord, is risen to-day!\n Sons of men and angels say:\n Raise your joys and triumphs high:\n Sing ye heavens! thou earth reply!\n\n 2 Love's redeeming work is done,\n Fought the fight, the battle won:\n Lo! our Sun's eclipse is o'er;\n Lo! he sets in blood no more.\n\n 3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal--\n Christ hath burst the gates of hell;\n Death in vain forbids his rise,\n Christ hath opened paradise.\n\n 4 Lives again our glorious King!\n Where, O Death, is now thy sting?\n Once he died, our souls to save:\n Where's thy victory, boasting grave?\n\n 5 Soar we now where Christ hath led,\n Following our exalted Head:\n Made like him, like him we rise,\n Ours the cross, the grave, the skies!\n\n 6 King of glory, Fount of bliss,\n Everlasting life is this:\n Thee to know, thy power to prove,\n Thus to sing, and thus to love.\n\n\n191 7s.\n The Resurrection.\n\n Morning breaks upon the tomb,\n Jesus scatters all its gloom;\n Day of triumph through the skies--\n See the glorious Saviour rise!\n\n 2 Ye who are of death afraid,\n Triumph in the scattered shade;\n Drive your anxious cares away;\n See the place where Jesus lay!\n\n 3 Christian! dry your flowing tears,\n Chase your unbelieving fears;\n Look on his deserted grave;\n Doubt no more his power to save.\n\n\n192 7s, double.\n Mary at the tomb.\n\n Mary to the Saviour's tomb\n Hasted at the early dawn;\n Spice she brought, and sweet perfume,\n But the Lord she loved had gone:\n For a while she lingering stood,\n Filled with sorrow and surprise;\n Trembling, while a crystal flood\n Issued from her weeping eyes.\n\n 2 Jesus who is always near,\n Though too often unperceived,\n Came her drooping heart to cheer,\n Kindly asking why she grieved:\n Though at first she knew him not,\n When he called her by her name,\n She her heavy griefs forgot,\n For she found him still the same.\n\n 3 And her sorrows, quickly fled,\n When she heard his welcome voice;\n Christ had risen from the dead,\n Now he bids her heart rejoice:\n What a change his word can make--\n Turning darkness into day;\n You who weep for Jesus' sake,\n He will wipe your tears away.\n\n\n193 8s.\n He hath abolished death.\n 2 Tim. 1:10.\n\n The angels that watched round the tomb\n Where low the Redeemer was laid,\n When deep in mortality's gloom\n He hid for a season his head;\n\n 2 That vailed their fair face while he slept,\n And ceased their sweet harps to employ,\n Have witnessed his rising, and swept\n The chords with the triumphs of joy.\n\n 3 You saints, who once languished below,\n But long since have entered your rest,\n I pant to be glorified too,\n To lean on Immanuel's breast.\n\n 4 The grave in which Jesus was laid\n Has buried my guilt and my fears;\n And while I contemplate its shade,\n The light of his presence appears.\n\n 5 O sweet is the season of rest,\n When life's weary journey is done!\n The blush that spreads over its west,\n The last lingering ray of its sun!\n\n 6 Though dreary the empire of night,\n I soon shall emerge from its gloom,\n And see immortality's light\n Arise on the shades of the tomb.\n\n 7 Then welcome the last rending sighs,\n When these aching heartstrings shall break,\n When death shall extinguish these eyes,\n And moisten with dew the pale cheek.\n\n 8 No terror the prospect begets,\n I am not mortality's slave,\n The sunbeam of life as it sets,\n Paints a rainbow of peace on the grave.\n\n\n194 8s.\n The darkness is passed, etc.\n 1 John 2:8.\n\n Behold, the bright morning appears,\n And Jesus revives from the grave;\n His rising removes all our fears,\n And shows him almighty to save.\n\n 2 How strong were his tears and his cries,\n The worth of his blood, how divine!\n How perfect was his sacrifice,\n Who rose though he suffered for sin.\n\n 3 The man that was crowned with thorns,\n The man that on Calvary died,\n The man that bore scourging and scorns,\n Whom sinners agreed to deride--\n\n 4 Now blessed for ever is made,\n And life has rewarded his pain,\n Now glory has crowned his head;\n Heaven sings of the Lamb that was slain.\n\n 3 Believing, we share in his joy;\n By faith, we partake in his rest;\n With this we can cheerfully die,\n For with him we hope to be blest.\n\n\n\n\n THE ASCENSION.\n\n\n195 L. M.\n Lift up your heads, ye gates.\n Psalm 24:7.\n\n Our Lord is risen from the dead,\n Our Jesus is gone up on high;\n The powers of hell are captive led,\n Dragged to the portals of the sky.\n\n 2 There his triumphal chariot waits,\n And angels chant the solemn lay;\n Lift up your heads, you heavenly gates!\n You everlasting doors give way!\n\n 3 Loose all your bars of massy light,\n And wide unfold the radiant scene!\n He claims those mansions as his right--\n Receive the King of glory in!\n\n 4 Who is the King of glory?--Who?\n The Lord, who all his foes o'ercame;\n The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew,\n And Jesus is the conqueror's name.\n\n 5 Lo! his triumphal chariot waits,\n And angels chant the solemn lay:\n Lift up your heads, you heavenly gates!\n You everlasting doors, give way!\n\n 6 Who is the King of glory?--who?\n The Lord, of boundless might possessed,\n The King of saints and angels too,\n Lord over all, for ever blest.\n\n\n196 L. M.\n The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory.\n Psalm 24.\n\n Lift up your heads, ye gates! and wide\n Your everlasting doors display;\n Ye angel-guards, like flames divide,\n And give the King of glory way.\n\n 2 Who is the King of glory?--he,\n The Lord omnipotent to save;\n Whose own right arm, in victory,\n Led captive death, and spoiled the grave.\n\n 3 Lift up your heads, ye gates! and high\n Your everlasting portals heave;\n Welcome the King of glory nigh:\n Him must the heaven of heavens receive.\n\n 4 Who is the King of glory--who?\n The Lord of hosts; behold his name!\n The kingdom, power, and honor due,\n Yield him, ye saints, with glad acclaim!\n\n\n197 C. M,\n Psalm 24.\n\n Lift up your stately heads, ye doors,\n With hasty reverence rise,\n Ye everlasting doors that guard\n The passage to the skies.\n\n Chorus.--For see, for see\n The King of glory comes,\n The King of glory comes\n Along the eternal road.\n\n 2 Swift from your golden hinges leap,\n Your barriers roll away,\n And throw your blazing portals wide,\n And burst the gates of day.\n\n\n198 C. M.\n Received up into glory.\n 1 Tim. 3:16.\n\n Triumphant, Christ ascends on high,\n The glorious work complete;\n Sin, death, and hell, now vanquished lie\n Beneath his awful feet.\n\n 2 There, with eternal glory crowned,\n The Lord, the Conqueror reigns;\n His praise the heavenly choirs resound,\n In their immortal strains.\n\n 3 Amid the splendors of his throne,\n Unchanging love appears;\n The names he purchased for his own,\n Still on his heart he bears.\n\n 4 O, the rich depths of love divine!\n Of bliss a boundless store:\n Dear Saviour, let me call thee mine;\n I can not wish for more.\n\n 5 On thee alone, my hope relies;\n Beneath thy cross I fall,\n My Lord, my Life, my Sacrifice,\n My Saviour, and my All.\n\n\n199 C. M.\n God is gone up with a shout.\n Psalm 47:5.\n\n Arise, ye people, and adore,\n Exulting strike the chord;\n Let all the earth, from shore to shore,\n Confess th' almighty Lord.\n\n 2 Glad shouts aloud--wide echoing round,\n Th' ascending Lord proclaim;\n The angelic choir respond the sound,\n And shake creation's frame.\n\n 3 They sing of death and hell o'erthrown\n In that triumphant hour;\n And God exalts his conquering Son\n To his right hand of power.\n\n 4 O shout, ye people, and adore,\n Exulting strike the chord;\n Let all the earth, from shore to shore,\n Confess th' almighty Lord.\n\n\n200 6s & 10s.\n He became obedient unto death.\n Phil. 2:8.\n\n Thou, who didst stoop below\n To drain the cup of woe,\n And wear the form of frail mortality,\n Thy blessed labors done,\n Thy crown of victory won,\n Hast passed from earth--passed to thy home on high.\n\n 2 It was no path of flowers,\n Through this dark world of ours,\n Beloved of the Father! thou didst tread;\n And shall we in dismay\n Shrink from the narrow way,\n When clouds and darkness are around it spread.\n\n 3 O thou who art our Life,\n Be with us through the strife;\n Thy own meek head with rudest storms was bowed!\n Raise thou our eyes above\n To see a Father's love\n Beam, like the bow of promise, through the cloud.\n\n 4 E'en through the awful gloom\n Which hovers o'er the tomb,\n That light of love our guiding star shall be;\n Our spirits shall not dread\n The shadowy way to tread,\n Friend, Guardian, Saviour! which doth lead to thee.\n\n\n201 6s & 4s.\n Rule thou, in the midst of thine enemies.\n Psalm 110:2.\n\n Rise, glorious Conqueror, rise\n Into thy native skies--\n Assume thy right;\n And where in many a fold,\n The clouds are backward rolled--\n Pass through those gates of gold,\n And reign in light!\n\n 2 Victor o'er death and hell!\n Cherubic legions swell\n The radiant train;\n Praises all heaven inspire,\n Each angel sweeps his lyre,\n And waves his wings of fire,\n Thou Lamb once slain!\n\n 3 Enter, incarnate God!\n No feet but thine have trod\n The serpent down:\n Blow the full trumpets, blow!\n Wider yon portals throw!\n Saviour, triumphant, go\n And take thy crown!\n\n 4 Lion of Judah--hail!\n And let thy name prevail\n From age to age:\n Lord of the rolling years--\n Claim for thine own the spheres,\n For thou hast bought with tears\n Thy heritage.\n\n\n202 7s, 6s & 7s.\n Psalm 45.\n\n Burst, ye emerald gates, and bring\n To my raptured vision\n All the ecstatic joys that spring\n Round the bright elysian;\n Lo! we lift our longing eyes!\n Break, ye intervening skies!\n Sons of righteousness, arise,\n Ope the gates of paradise.\n\n 2 Floods of everlasting light\n Freely flash before him;\n Myriads, with supreme delight,\n Instantly adore him\n Angelic trumps resound his fame;\n Lutes of lucid gold proclaim\n All the music of his name;\n Heaven resounding with the theme.\n\n 3 Hark! the thrilling symphonies\n Seem, methinks, to seize us;\n Join we too the holy lays--\n Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!\n Sweetest sound in seraph's song,\n Sweetest note on mortal tongue,\n Sweetest carol ever sung--\n Jesus, Jesus, flow along.\n\n\n\n\n THE CORONATION.\n\n\n203 C. M.\n\n All hail the power of Jesus' name!\n Let angels prostrate fall;\n Bring forth the royal diadem,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n 2 Crown him, you martyrs of our God,\n Who from his altar call;\n Extol the stem of Jesse's rod,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n 3 You chosen seed of Israel's race,\n A remnant weak and small,\n Hail him who saves you by his grace,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n 4 You gentle sinners, ne'er forget\n The wormwood and the gall;\n Go, spread your trophies at his feet,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n 5 Babes, men, and sires, who know his love,\n Who feel your sin and thrall,\n Now join with all the hosts above,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n 6 Let every kindred, every tribe,\n On this terrestrial ball,\n To him all majesty ascribe,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n 7 O that with yonder sacred throng\n We at his feet may fall!\n We'll join the everlasting song,\n And crown him Lord of all.\n\n\n204 C. M.\n Sit thou at my right hand.\n Psalm 110:1.\n\n Jesus, our Lord, ascend thy throne,\n And near thy Father sit:\n In Zion shall thy power be known,\n And make thy foes submit.\n\n 2 What wonders shall thy gospel do!\n Thy converts shall surpass\n The numerous drops of morning dew,\n And own thy saving grace.\n\n 3 Jesus, our Priest, for ever lives\n To plead for us above;\n Jesus, our King, for ever gives\n The blessings of his love.\n\n 4 God shall exalt his glorious head,\n And his high throne maintain;\n Shall strike the powers and princes dead,\n Who dare oppose his reign.\n\n\n205 8s & 7s.\n Thou art worthy.\n\n Crown his head with endless blessing,\n Who, in God the Father's name,\n With compassion never ceasing,\n Comes, salvation to proclaim.\n\n 2 Jesus, thee our Saviour hailing,\n Thee our God in praise we own;\n Highest honors, never failing,\n Rise eternal round thy throne.\n\n 3 Now, ye saints, his power confessing,\n In your grateful strains adore;\n For his mercy, never ceasing,\n Flows, and flows for evermore.\n\n\n206 C. M.\n Worthy the Lamb.\n\n Come, let us join our cheerful songs\n With angels round the throne;\n Ten thousand thousand are their tongues,\n But all their joys are one.\n\n 2 Worthy the Lamb that died, they cry,\n To be exalted thus!\n Worthy the Lamb, our lips reply,\n For he was slain for us!\n\n 3 Jesus is worthy to receive\n Honor and power divine;\n And blessings more than we can give,\n Be, Lord, for ever thine.\n\n 4 Let all who dwell above the sky,\n On earth, in air, and seas,\n Conspire to lift thy glories high,\n And speak thy endless praise.\n\n 5 The whole creation join in one,\n To bless the sacred name\n Of him that sits upon the throne,\n And to adore the Lamb.\n\n\n207 8s, 7s & 4.\n King of kings, etc.\n Rev. 19:16.\n\n Look, ye saints--the sight is glorious;\n See the Man of Sorrows now\n From the fight returned victorious;\n Every knee to him shall bow.\n Crown him! crown him!\n Crowns become the Victor's brow.\n\n 2 Crown the Saviour! angels, crown him!\n Rich the trophies Jesus brings;\n In the seat of power enthrone him,\n While the heavenly concert rings,\n Crown him! crown him!\n Crown the Saviour King of kings.\n\n 3 Sinners in derision crowned him,\n Mocking thus the Saviour's claim;\n Saints and angels! crowd around him,\n Own his title, praise his name.\n Crown him! crown him!\n Spread abroad the Victor's name.\n\n 4 Hark! those bursts of acclamation!\n Hark! those loud triumphant chords!\n Jesus takes the highest station;\n O, what joy the sight affords!\n Crown him! crown him!\n King of kings, and Lord of lords.\n\n\n\n\n MEDIATORIAL REIGN.\n\n\n208 L. M.\n Of his kingdom there shall be no end.\n Luke 1:33.\n\n King Jesus, reign for evermore,\n Unrivaled in thy courts above;\n While we, with all thy saints, adore\n The wonders of redeeming love.\n\n 2 No other Lord but thee we'll know\n No other power but thine confess;\n We'll spread thine honors while below,\n And heaven shall hear us shout thy grace.\n\n 3 We'll sing along the heavenly road\n That leads us to thy blest abode;\n Till with the vast unnumbered throng\n We join in heaven's triumphant song--\n\n 4 Till with pure hands and voices sweet,\n We cast our crowns at Jesus feet,\n And sing of everlasting love\n In everlasting strains above.\n\n\n209 L. M.\n All nations shall serve him.\n Psalm 72:11.\n\n Jesus shall reign where'er the sun\n Does his successive journeys run;\n His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,\n Till moons shall wax and wane no more.\n\n 2 For him shall endless prayer be made,\n And praises throng to crown his head;\n His name like sweet perfume shall rise\n With every morning sacrifice.\n\n 3 People and realms of every tongue\n Dwell on his love with sweetest song;\n And infant voices shall proclaim\n Their early blessings on his name.\n\n 4 Blessings abound where'er he reigns;\n The prisoner leaps to loose his chains,\n The weary find eternal rest,\n And all the sons of want are blest.\n\n 5 Where he displays his healing power,\n Death and the curse are known no more;\n In him the tribes of Adam boast\n More blessings than their father lost.\n\n 6 Let every creature rise, and bring\n Peculiar honors to our King;\n Angels descend with songs again,\n And earth repeat the long Amen.\n\n\n210 L. M.\n Give the King thy judgments.\n Psalm 72:1.\n\n Exalted Prince of Life, we own\n The royal honors of thy throne;\n 'Tis fixed by God's almighty hand,\n And seraphs bow at thy command.\n\n 2 Exalted Saviour, we confess\n The mighty triumphs of thy grace;\n Where beams of gentle radiance shine\n And temper majesty divine.\n\n 3 Wide thy resistless scepter sway,\n Till all thine enemies obey;\n Wide let thy cross its virtues prove,\n And conquer millions by its love!\n\n\n211 L. M.\n My heart is inditing a good matter.\n Psalm 45:1.\n\n Now be my heart inspired to sing\n The glories of my Saviour King;\n He comes with blessings from above,\n And wins the nations to his love.\n\n 2 Thy throne, O Lord, for ever stands;\n Grace is the scepter in thy hands;\n Thy laws and works are just and right,\n But truth and mercy thy delight.\n\n 3 Let endless honors crown thy head;\n Let every age thy praises spread;\n Let all the nations know thy word,\n And every tongue confess thee Lord.\n\n\n212 L. M.\n I know that my Redeemer liveth.\n Job 19:25.\n\n He lives! the great Redeemer lives!\n What joy the blest assurance gives!\n And now, before his Father, God,\n Pleads the full merit of his blood.\n\n 2 Repeated crimes awake our fears,\n And justice armed with frowns appears;\n But in the Saviour's lovely face\n Sweet mercy smiles, and all is peace.\n\n 3 In every dark, distressful hour,\n When sin and Satan join their power,\n Let this dear hope repel the dart,\n That Jesus bears us on his heart.\n\n 4 Great Advocate, almighty Friend!\n On him our humble hopes depend;\n Our cause can never, never fail,\n For Jesus pleads, and must prevail.\n\n\n213 L. M.\n Let the whole earth be filled with his glory.\n Psalm 72:19.\n\n Great God! whose universal sway\n The known and unknown worlds obey,\n Now give the kingdom to thy Son;\n Extend his power, exalt his throne.\n\n 2 Thy scepter well becomes his hands;\n All heaven submits to his commands;\n His justice shall avenge the poor,\n And pride and rage prevail no more.\n\n 3 The heathen lands, that lie beneath\n The shades of overspreading death,\n Revive at his first dawning light;\n And deserts blossom at the sight.\n\n 4 The saints shall flourish in his days,\n Dressed in the robes of joy and praise;\n Peace, like a river, from his throne\n Shall flow to nations yet unknown.\n\n\n214 L. M.\n The Lord is King.\n\n The Lord is King! lift up thy voice,\n O earth, and all ye heavens, rejoice!\n From world to world the joy shall ring--\n \"The Lord omnipotent is King!\"\n\n 2 The Lord is King! who then shall dare\n Resist his will, distrust his care?\n Holy and true are all his ways:\n Let every creature speak his praise.\n\n\n215 L. M.\n He humbled himself.\n Phil. 2:8.\n\n O Christ! our King, Creator, Lord!\n Saviour of all who trust thy word!\n To them who seek thee, ever near,\n Now to our praises bend thine ear.\n\n 2 In thy dear cross a grace is found--\n It flows from every streaming wound--\n Whose power our inbred sin controls,\n Breaks the firm bond and frees our souls!\n\n 3 Thou didst create the stars of night:\n Yet thou hast vailed in flesh thy light--\n Hast deigned a mortal form to wear,\n A mortal's painful lot to bear.\n\n 4 When thou didst hang upon the tree,\n The quaking earth acknowledged thee;\n When thou didst there yield up thy breath,\n The world grew dark as shades of death.\n\n 5 Now in the Father's glory high,\n Great Conqueror, never more to die,\n Us by thy mighty power defend,\n And reign through ages without end!\n\n\n216 L. M.\n His promises are yea and amen.\n\n Saviour, I lift my trembling eyes,\n To that bright seat, where, placed on high,\n The great, the atoning sacrifice,\n For me, for all, is ever nigh.\n\n 2 Be thou my guard on peril's brink;\n Be thou my guide through weal or woe;\n And teach me of thy cup to drink,\n And make me in thy faith to go.\n\n 3 For what is earthly change or loss?\n Thy promises are still my own:\n The feeblest frame may bear thy cross,\n The lowliest spirit share thy throne.\n\n\n217 L. M.\n Let all the angels of God worship him.\n Heb. 1:6.\n\n Thee we adore, O gracious Lord!\n We praise thy name with one accord;\n Thy saints, who here thy goodness see,\n Through all the world do worship thee.\n\n 2 To thee aloud all angels cry,\n And ceaseless raise their songs on high,\n Both cherubim and seraphim,\n The heavens and all the powers therein:\n\n 3 The apostles join the glorious throng;\n The prophets swell the immortal song;\n The martyrs' noble army raise\n Eternal anthems to thy praise.\n\n 4 Thee, holy, holy, holy King!\n Thee, O Lord God of hosts, they sing:\n Thus earth below, and heaven above,\n Resound thy glory and thy love.\n\n\n218 L. M.\n He hath the keys of hell and of death.\n Rev. 1:18.\n\n Hail to the Prince of Life and Peace,\n Who holds the keys of death and hell;\n The spacious world unseen is his,\n The sovereign power becomes him well.\n\n 2 In shame and anguish once he died;\n But now he lives for ever more;\n Bow down, you saints, around his seat,\n And all you angel bands adore.\n\n 3 Live, live for ever, glorious Lord,\n To crush thy foes and guard thy friends,\n While all thy chosen tribes rejoice\n That thy dominion never ends.\n\n 4 Worthy thy hand to hold the keys,\n Guided by wisdom and by love;\n Worthy to rule our mortal lives,\n O'er worlds below and worlds above.\n\n 5 For ever reign, victorious King!\n Wide through the earth thy name be known;\n And call our longing souls to sing\n Sublimer anthems near thy throne.\n\n\n219 L. M.\n My Redeemer liveth.\n Job 19:25.\n\n I know that my Redeemer lives;\n What comfort this sweet sentence gives!\n He lives, he lives who once was dead,\n He lives, my ever-living Head!\n\n 2 He lives to bless me with his love,\n He lives to plead for me above,\n He lives my hungry soul to feed,\n He lives to bless in time of need.\n\n 3 He lives to grant me rich supply,\n He lives to guide me with his eye,\n He lives to comfort me when faint,\n He lives to hear my soul's complaint.\n\n 4 He lives, my kind, wise, heavenly friend,\n He lives, and loves me to the end;\n He lives, and while he lives I'll sing,\n He lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King!\n\n 5 He lives, and grants me daily breath;\n He lives, and I shall conquer death;\n He lives my mansion to prepare,\n He lives to bring me safely there.\n\n 6 He lives, all glory to his name!\n He lives, my Jesus, still the same!\n O the sweet joy this sentence gives--\n I know that my Redeemer lives!\n\n\n220 L. M.\n No other name.\n Acts 4:12.\n\n Jesus, the spring of joys divine,\n Whence all our hopes and comforts flow:\n Jesus, no other name but thine\n Can save us from eternal woe.\n\n 2 In vain would boasting reason find\n Thy way to happiness and God;\n Her weak directions leave the mind\n Bewildered in a dubious road.\n\n 3 No other name will heaven approve;\n Thou art the true, the living way,\n Ordained by everlasting love,\n To the bright realms of endless day.\n\n 4 Here let our constant feet abide,\n Nor from the heavenly path depart;\n O let thy Spirit, gracious Guide!\n Direct our steps, and cheer our heart.\n\n 5 Safe lead us through this world of night,\n And bring us to the blissful plains--\n The regions of unclouded light\n Where perfect joy for ever reigns.\n\n\n221 L. M.\n Excellency of the knowledge of Christ.\n\n Let everlasting glories crown\n Thy head, my Saviour and my Lord;\n Thy hands have brought salvation down,\n And stored the blessings in thy word.\n\n 2 In vain the trembling conscience seeks\n Some solid ground to rest upon;\n With long despair the spirit breaks,\n Till we apply to Christ alone.\n\n 3 How well thy blessed truths agree!\n How wise and holy thy commands!\n Thy promises, how firm they be!\n How firm our hope and comfort stands!\n\n 4 Should all the forms that men devise\n Assault my faith with treacherous art,\n I'd call them vanity and lies,\n And bind the gospel to my heart.\n\n\n222 L. M.\n Lord, to whom shall we go?\n John 6:68.\n\n Thou only Sovereign of my heart,\n My Refuge, my almighty Friend--\n And can my soul from thee depart,\n On whom alone my hopes depend?\n\n 2 Whither, ah! whither shall I go,\n A wretched wanderer from my Lord?\n Can this dark world of sin and woe\n One glimpse of happiness afford?\n\n 3 Eternal life thy words impart;\n On these my fainting spirit lives;\n Here sweeter comforts cheer my heart,\n Than all the round of nature gives.\n\n 4 Let earth's alluring joys combine;\n While thou art near, in vain they call!\n One smile, one blissful smile of thine,\n My dearest Lord, outweighs them all.\n\n 5 Thy name my inmost powers adore;\n Thou art my life, my joy, my care;\n Depart from thee--'tis death--'tis more--\n 'Tis endless ruin, deep despair!\n\n 6 Low at thy feet my soul would lie;\n Here safety dwells, and peace divine;\n Still let me live beneath thine eye,\n For life, eternal life, is thine.\n\n\n223 L. M.\n Christ the Way, the Truth, and the Life.\n\n Thou art the way; and he who sighs,\n Amid this starless waste of woe,\n To find a pathway to the skies,\n A light from heaven's eternal glow,\n By thee must come, thou gate of love,\n Through which the saints undoubting trod,\n Till faith discovers, like the dove,\n An ark, a resting-place in God.\n\n 2 Thou art the Truth, whose steady day\n Shines on through earthly blight and bloom;\n The pure, the everlasting Ray,\n The Lamp that shines e'en in the tomb;\n The light that out of darkness springs,\n And guideth those that blindly go;\n The Word whose precious radiance flings\n Its luster upon all below.\n\n 3 Thou art the Life, the blessed Well\n With living waters gushing o'er,\n Which those that drink shall ever dwell\n Where sin and thirst are known no more,\n Thou art the mystic Pillar given,\n Our Lamp by night, our Light by day;\n Thou art the sacred Bread from heaven;\n Thou art the Life, the Truth, the Way.\n\n\n224 L. M. 6 lines.\n A very present help in trouble.\n Psalm 46:1.\n\n Still nigh me, O my Saviour, stand,\n And guard in fierce temptation's hour;\n Support by thy almighty hand,\n Show forth in me thy saving power;\n Still be thine arm my sure defense,\n Nor earth nor hell shall pluck me thence.\n\n 2 In suffering be thy love my peace,\n In weakness be thy love my power;\n And when the storms of life shall cease,\n O, Saviour, in that trying hour,\n In death, as life, be thou my guide,\n And save me, who for me hast died.\n\n\n225 L. M. 6 lines.\n Christ all and in all.\n\n Jesus, thou source of calm repose,\n All fullness dwells in thee divine;\n Our strength, to quell the proudest foes;\n Our light, in deepest gloom to shine;\n Thou art our fortress, strength, and tower,\n Our trust, and portion, evermore.\n\n 2 Jesus, our Comforter, thou art\n Our rest in toil, our ease in pain;\n The balm to heal each broken heart:\n In storms our peace, in loss our gain;\n Our joy, beneath the worldling's frown;\n In shame, our glory and our crown:\n\n 3 In want, our plentiful supply;\n In weakness, our almighty power;\n In bonds, our perfect liberty;\n Our refuge in temptation's hour;\n Our comfort, 'midst all grief and thrall;\n Our life in death; our all in all.\n\n\n226 L. M. 6 lines.\n Prophet, Priest, and King.\n\n My Prophet thou, my heavenly Guide,\n Thy sweet instructions I will hear;\n The words that from thy lips proceed,\n O how divinely sweet they are!\n Thee, my great Prophet, I would love,\n And imitate the blest above.\n\n 2 My great High Priest, whose precious blood\n Did once atone upon the cross,\n Who now dost intercede with God,\n And plead the friendless sinner's cause:\n In thee I trust, thee would I love,\n And imitate the blest above.\n\n 3 My King supreme, to thee I bow\n A willing subject at thy feet;\n All other lords I disavow,\n And to thy government submit;\n My Saviour King, this heart would love,\n And imitate the blest above.\n\n\n227 L. M.\n He is precious.\n 1 Peter 2:7.\n\n Jesus! the very thought is sweet;\n In that dear name all heart-joys meet;\n But sweeter than the honey far\n The glimpses of his presence are.\n\n 2 No word is sung more sweet than this;\n No name is heard more full of bliss;\n No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh,\n Than Jesus, Son of God, most high.\n\n 3 Jesus, the hope of souls forlorn!\n How good to them for sin that mourn;\n To them that seek thee, O how kind!\n But what art thou to them that find?\n\n 4 No tongue of mortal can express,\n No letters write its blessedness;\n Alone, who hath thee in his heart,\n Knows, love of Jesus, what thou art.\n\n\n228 C. M.\n Christ a merciful High Priest\n\n With joy we meditate the grace\n Of our High Priest above:\n His heart is full of tenderness;\n His bosom glows with love.\n\n 2 Touched with a sympathy within,\n He knows our feeble frame;\n He knows what sore temptations mean,\n For he has felt the same.\n\n 3 He in the days of feeble flesh,\n Poured out his cries and tears;\n And in his measure feels afresh\n What every member bears.\n\n 4 Then let our humble faith address\n His mercy and his power;\n We shall obtain delivering grace\n In each distressing hour.\n\n\n229 C. M.\n The bright and morning star.\n Rev. 22:16.\n\n Bright was the guiding star that led,\n With mild, benignant ray,\n The Gentiles to the lowly shed\n Where the Redeemer lay.\n\n 2 But, lo! a brighter, clearer light\n Now points to his abode;\n It shines through sin and sorrow's night\n To guide us to our God.\n\n 3 O haste to follow where it leads;\n The gracious call obey,\n Be rugged wilds or flowery meads\n The Christian's destined way.\n\n 4 O gladly tread the narrow path\n While light and grace are given:\n Who meekly follow Christ on earth,\n Shall reign with him in heaven.\n\n\n230 C. M.\n They shall speak of the glory, etc.\n Psalm 145:11.\n\n Come, you that love the Saviour's name,\n And joy to make it known;\n The Sovereign of your heart proclaim,\n And bow before his throne.\n\n 2 Behold your King, your Saviour, crowned\n With glories all divine;\n And tell the wondering nations round\n How bright these glories shine.\n\n 3 Infinite power and boundless grace\n In him unite their rays;\n You that have seen his lovely face,\n Can you forbear his praise?\n\n 4 When in the earthly courts we view\n The beauties of our King,\n We long to love as angels do,\n And wish like them to sing.\n\n 5 And shall we long and wish in vain?\n Lord, teach our songs to rise!\n Thy love can animate our strain,\n And bid it reach the skies.\n\n 6 O for the day, the glorious day!\n When heaven and earth shall raise,\n With all their powers, the raptured lay,\n To celebrate thy praise.\n\n\n231 C. M.\n Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb.\n\n Thou dear Redeemer, dying Lamb,\n I love to hear of thee;\n No music's like thy charming name,\n Nor half so sweet can be.\n\n 2 O, may I ever hear thy voice\n In mercy to me speak;\n In thee, my Priest, will I rejoice,\n And thy salvation seek.\n\n 3 My Jesus shall be still my theme,\n While on this earth I stay;\n I'll sing my Jesus' lovely name,\n When all things else decay.\n\n\n232 C. M.\n Offices of Christ.\n\n We bless the Prophet of the Lord,\n That comes with truth and grace;\n Jesus, thy Spirit and thy Word,\n Shall lead us in thy ways.\n\n 2 We reverence our High Priest above,\n Who offered up his blood,\n And lives to carry on his love\n By pleading with our God.\n\n 3 We honor our exalted King;\n How sweet are his commands!\n He guards our souls from hell and sin\n By his almighty hands.\n\n\n233 C. M.\n A merciful and faithful High Priest.\n Heb. 2:17.\n\n Come, let us join in songs of praise\n To our ascended Priest;\n He entered heaven with all our names\n Engraven on his breast.\n\n 2 On earth he washed our guilt away\n By his atoning blood;\n Now he appears before the throne,\n And pleads our cause with God.\n\n 3 What though while here we oft must feel\n Temptation's keenest dart;\n Our tender High Priest feels it too,\n And will appease the smart.\n\n 4 Clothed with our nature still, he knows\n The weakness of our frame,\n And how to shield us from the foes\n Which he himself o'ercame.\n\n 5 Nor time nor distance e'er shall quench\n The fervor of his love;\n For us he died in kindness here,\n For us he lives above.\n\n 6 O may we ne'er forget his grace,\n Nor blush to wear his name!\n Still may our hearts hold fast his faith,\n Our lips his praise proclaim!\n\n\n234 C. M.\n Children's Hymn.\n\n Hosanna! raise the pealing hymn\n To David's Son and Lord;\n With cherubim and seraphim\n Exalt th' incarnate Word.\n\n 2 Hosanna! Lord, our feeble tongue\n No lofty strains can raise:\n But thou wilt not despise the young\n Who meekly chant thy praise.\n\n 3 Hosanna! Sovereign, Prophet, Priest,\n How vast thy gifts, how free!\n Thy Blood, our life; thy Word, our feast;\n Thy Name, our only plea.\n\n 4 Hosanna! Master, lo! we bring\n Our offerings to thy throne;\n Not gold, nor myrrh, nor mortal thing,\n But hearts to be thine own.\n\n 5 Hosanna! once thy gracious ear\n Approved a lisping throng;\n Be gracious still, and deign to hear\n Our poor but grateful song.\n\n 6 O Saviour, if, redeemed by thee,\n Thy temple we behold,\n Hosannas through eternity\n We'll sing to harps of gold.\n\n\n235 C. M.\n Consider the High Priest, etc.\n Heb. 3:1.\n\n Now let our cheerful eyes survey\n Our great High Priest above,\n And celebrate his constant care\n And sympathetic love.\n\n 2 Though raised to heaven's exalted throne\n Where angels bow around,\n And high o'er all the hosts of light,\n With matchless honors crowned--\n\n 3 The names of all his saints he bears\n Deep graven on his heart;\n Nor shall the weakest Christian say\n That he has lost his part.\n\n 4 Those characters shall fair abide,\n Our everlasting trust,\n When gems, and monuments, and crowns,\n Have moldered down to dust.\n\n 5 So, gracious Saviour, on my breast\n May thy loved name be worn--\n A sacred ornament and guard,\n To endless ages borne.\n\n\n236 C. M.\n Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.\n Rev. 5:12.\n\n Behold the glories of the Lamb\n Amidst his Father's throne;\n Prepare new honors for his name,\n And songs before unknown.\n\n 2 Let elders worship at his feet,\n The church adore around,\n With vials full of odors sweet,\n And harps of sweeter sound.\n\n 3 Now to the Lamb that once was slain,\n Be endless blessings paid;\n Salvation, glory, joy, remain\n For ever on thy head!\n\n 4 Thou hast redeemed our souls with blood,\n Hast set the prisoners free,\n Hast made us kings and priests to God,\n And we shall reign with thee.\n\n\n237 C. M.\n Christ--all in all.\n\n Infinite excellence is thine,\n Thou lovely Prince of Grace!\n Thy uncreated beauties shine\n With never-fading rays.\n\n 2 Sinners from earth's remotest end\n Come bending at thy feet;\n To thee their prayers and praise ascend,\n In thee their wishes meet.\n\n 3 Thy name, as precious ointment shed,\n Delights the church around;\n Sweetly the sacred odors spread,\n And purest joys abound.\n\n 4 Millions of happy spirits live\n On thy exhaustless store;\n From thee they all their bliss receive,\n And still thou givest more.\n\n 5 Thou art their triumph and their joy;\n They find their all in thee;\n Thy glories will their tongues employ\n Through all eternity.\n\n\n238 C. M.\n He died for our sins.\n 1 Cor. 15:3.\n\n Jesus, in thy transporting name\n What blissful glories rise!\n Jesus, the angels' sweetest theme--\n The wonder of the skies!\n\n 2 Well might the skies with wonder view\n A love so strange as thine!\n No thought of angels ever knew\n Compassion so divine!\n\n 3 Jesus, and didst thou leave the sky\n To bear our sins and woes?\n And didst thou bleed, and groan, and die,\n For vile rebellious foes?\n\n 4 Victorious love! can language tell\n The wonders of thy power,\n Which conquered all the force of hell\n In that tremendous hour!\n\n 5 What glad return can I impart\n For favors so divine?\n O take this heart, this worthless heart,\n And make it only thine!\n\n\n239 C. M.\n The Name above every name.\n\n The Saviour! O what endless charms\n Dwell in the blissful sound!\n Its influence every fear disarms,\n And spreads sweet peace around.\n\n 2 Here pardon, life, and joys divine,\n In rich profusion flow;\n For guilty rebels, lost in sin,\n And doomed to endless woe.\n\n 3 Th' almighty Former of the skies\n Stooped to our vile abode;\n While angels viewed, with wondering eyes,\n And hailed th' incarnate God.\n\n 4 O the rich depths of love divine!\n Of bliss a boundless store!\n Blest Saviour, let me call thee mine;\n I can not wish for more.\n\n 5 On thee, alone, my hope relies,\n Beneath thy cross I fall;\n My Lord, my life, my sacrifice,\n My Saviour and my all.\n\n\n240 C. M.\n He suffered, the Just for the unjust.\n 1 Pet. 3:18.\n\n Alas! and did my Saviour bleed?\n And did my Sovereign die?\n Would he devote that sacred head\n For such a worm as I?\n\n 2 Was it for crimes that I had done\n He groaned upon the tree?\n Amazing pity! grace unknown!\n And love beyond degree!\n\n 3 Well might the sun in darkness hide,\n And shut his glories in,\n When God's own son was crucified\n For man the creature's sin.\n\n 4 Thus might I hide my blushing face\n While his dear cross appears,\n Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,\n And melt mine eyes to tears.\n\n 5 But drops of grief can ne'er repay\n The debt of love I owe:\n Here, Lord, I give myself away;\n 'Tis all that I can do.\n\n\n241 C. M.\n Remember me.\n\n Jesus, thou art the sinner's friend;\n As such I look to thee;\n Now, in the fullness of thy love,\n O Lord, remember me!\n\n 2 Remember thy pure word of grace,\n Remember Calvary;\n Remember all thy promises,\n And then remember me.\n\n 3 Thou mighty Advocate with God!\n I yield myself to thee;\n While thou art sitting on thy throne,\n O Lord, remember me!\n\n 4 I own I'm guilty--own I'm vile;\n Yet thy salvation's free;\n Then, in thy all-abounding grace,\n O Lord, remember me!\n\n 5 Howe'er forsaken or distressed,\n Howe'er oppressed I be,\n Howe'er afflicted here on earth,\n Do thou remember me!\n\n 6 And when I close my eyes in death,\n And creature helps all flee,\n Then, O my great Redeemer, Lord,\n I pray, remember me!\n\n\n242 C. M.\n An unchangeable priesthood.\n Heb. 7:24.\n\n Jesus, in thee our eyes behold\n A thousand glories more\n Than the rich gems and polished gold\n The sons of Aaron wore.\n\n 2 They first their own burnt-offerings brought\n To purge themselves from sin:\n Thy life was pure, without a spot,\n And all thy nature clean.\n\n 3 Fresh blood, as constant as the day,\n Was on their altar spilt;\n But thy one offering takes away\n For ever all our guilt.\n\n 4 Their priesthood ran through several hands,\n For mortal was their race;\n Thy never-changing office stands\n Eternal as thy days.\n\n 5 Once, in the circuit of a year,\n With blood, but not his own,\n Aaron with the vail appeared\n Before the golden throne;\n\n 6 But Christ, with his own precious blood,\n Ascends above the skies,\n And in the presence of our God\n Shows his own sacrifice.\n\n 7 Jesus, the King of glory, reigns\n On Zion's holy hill;\n Looks like a lamb that had been slain,\n And wears his priesthood still.\n\n 8 He ever lives in heaven to plead\n The cause which cost his blood,\n And saves unto the utmost those\n Who by him come to God.\n\n\n243 C. M.\n He is Lord of all.\n Acts 10:36.\n\n Hosanna to our conquering King!\n All hail incarnate Love!\n Ten thousand songs and glories wait\n To crown thy head above.\n\n 2 Thy victories and thy deathless fame\n Through all the world shall run,\n And everlasting ages sing\n The triumphs thou hast won.\n\n\n244 C. M.\n Grace is poured into thy lips.\n Psalm 45:2.\n\n O Jesus! King most wonderful!\n Thou Conqueror renowned!\n Thou Sweetness most ineffable!\n In whom all joys are found.\n\n 2 May every heart confess thy name,\n And ever thee adore;\n And seeking thee, itself inflame\n To seek thee more and more.\n\n 3 Thee may our tongues for ever bless,\n Thee may we love alone;\n And ever in our lives express\n The image of thine own.\n\n\n245 C. M.\n Rise, Lord, let thine enemies be scattered.\n Num. 10:35.\n\n Jesus, immortal King! arise,\n Assert thy rightful sway,\n Till earth, subdued, its tribute brings,\n And distant lands obey.\n\n 2 Ride forth, victorious Conqueror! ride,\n Till all thy foes submit,\n And all the powers of hell resign\n Their trophies at thy feet.\n\n 3 Send forth thy word, and let it fly\n The spacious earth around,\n Till every soul beneath the sun\n Shall hear the joyful sound.\n\n 4 From sea to sea, from shore to shore,\n May Jesus be adored!\n And earth, with all her millions, shout\n Hosannas to the Lord.\n\n\n246 C. M.\n The shadow of a great rock, etc.\n Isaiah 32:2.\n\n He who on earth as man was known,\n And bore our sins and pains,\n Now seated on th' eternal throne,\n The Lord of glory reigns.\n\n 2 His hands the wheels of nature guide\n With sure, unerring skill,\n And countless worlds, extended wide,\n Obey his sovereign will.\n\n 3 While harps unnumbered sound his praise\n In yonder worlds above,\n His saints on earth admire his ways,\n And glory in his love.\n\n 4 This land through which his pilgrims go,\n Is desolate and dry;\n But streams of grace from him o'erflow,\n Their thirst to satisfy.\n\n 5 When troubles, like a burning sun,\n Beat heavy on their head,\n To this high Rock for rest they run,\n And find a pleasing shade.\n\n 6 How glorious he, how happy they\n In such a generous friend,\n Whose love secures them all the way,\n And crowns them at the end.\n\n\n247 C. M.\n Ye are complete in him.\n Col. 2:10.\n\n How sweet the name of Jesus sounds\n In a believer's ear;\n It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,\n And drives away his fear!\n\n 2 It makes the wounded spirit whole,\n And calms the troubled breast;\n 'Tis manna to the hungry soul,\n And to the weary rest.\n\n 3 By thee my prayers acceptance gain,\n Although with sin defiled;\n Satan accuses me in vain,\n And I am owned a child.\n\n 4 Jesus, my Shepherd, Guardian, Friend,\n My Prophet, Priest, and King,\n My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,\n Accept the praise I bring.\n\n 5 Weak is the effort of my heart,\n And cold my warmest thought;\n But when I see thee as thou art,\n I'll praise thee as I ought.\n\n 6 Till then, I would thy love proclaim\n With every fleeting breath;\n And may the music of thy name\n Refresh my soul in death!\n\n\n248 C. M.\n The true and living Way.\n\n Thou art the Way--to thee alone\n From sin and death we flee;\n And he who would the Father seek,\n Must seek him, Lord, by thee.\n\n 2 Thou art the Truth--thy word alone\n True wisdom can impart;\n Thou only canst inform the mind,\n And purify the heart.\n\n 3 Thou art the Life--the rending tomb\n Proclaims thy conquering arm;\n And those who put their trust in thee,\n Nor death nor hell shall harm.\n\n 4 Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Life;\n Grant us that way to know,\n That truth to keep, that life to win,\n Whose joys eternal flow.\n\n\n249 C. M.\n Blessed are all they, etc.\n Psalm 2:12.\n\n My Saviour! my almighty Friend!\n When I begin thy praise,\n Where will the growing numbers end--\n The numbers of thy grace?\n\n 2 Thou art my everlasting trust;\n Thy goodness I adore;\n And since I knew thy graces first,\n I speak thy glories more.\n\n 3 My feet shall travel all the length\n Of the celestial road;\n And march, with courage, in thy strength,\n To see my Father God.\n\n 4 How will my lips rejoice to tell\n The victories of my King!\n My soul, redeemed from sin and hell,\n Shall thy salvation sing.\n\n\n250 C. M.\n Chief among ten thousand.\n\n Majestic sweetness sits enthroned\n Upon the Saviour's brow;\n His head with radiant glories crowned,\n His lips with grace o'erflow.\n\n 2 No mortal can with him compare\n Among the sons of men;\n Fairer is he than all the fair\n Who fill the heavenly train.\n\n 3 He saw me plunged in deep distress,\n And flew to my relief;\n For me he bore the shameful cross,\n And carried all my grief.\n\n 4 To him I owe my life and breath,\n And all the joys I have!\n He makes me triumph over death,\n And saves me from the grave.\n\n 5 To heaven, the place of his abode,\n He brings my weary feet;\n Shows me the glories of my God,\n And makes my joys complete.\n\n 6 Since from thy bounty I receive\n Such proofs of love divine,\n Had I a thousand hearts to give,\n Lord, they should all be thine.\n\n\n251 C. M.\n Altogether lovely.\n\n Jesus, I love thy charming name;\n 'Tis music to my ear;\n Fain would I sound it out so loud\n That all the earth might hear.\n\n 2 Yes, thou art precious to my soul,\n My transport and my trust;\n Jewels to thee are gaudy toys,\n And gold is sordid dust.\n\n 3 All that my ardent soul can wish\n In thee doth richly meet;\n Nor to my eyes is light so dear,\n Nor friendship half so sweet.\n\n 4 Thy grace shall dwell upon my heart,\n And shed its fragrance there;\n The noblest balm of all its wounds,\n The cordial of its care.\n\n 5 I'll speak the honors of thy name\n With my last laboring breath;\n And, dying, triumph in thy cross--\n The antidote of death.\n\n\n252 C. M.\n I looked--and there was none to help.\n Isaiah 63:5.\n\n Plunged in a gulf of dark despair,\n We wretched sinners lay,\n Without one cheerful beam of hope,\n Or spark of glimmering day.\n\n 2 With pitying eyes the Prince of grace\n Beheld our helpless grief;\n He saw, and--O! amazing love!\n He ran to our relief.\n\n 3 Down from the shining seats above,\n With joyful haste he fled,\n Entered the grave in mortal flesh,\n And dwelt among the dead.\n\n 4 O! for this love let rocks and hills\n Their lasting silence break;\n And all harmonious human tongues\n The Saviour's praises speak.\n\n 5 Angels! assist our mighty joys;\n Strike all your harps of gold;\n But, when you raise your highest notes,\n His love can ne'er be told.\n\n\n253 C. M.\n A fountain for sin.\n Zech. 13:1.\n\n There is a fountain filled with blood\n Drawn from Immanuel's veins;\n And sinners plunged beneath that flood,\n Loose all their guilty stains.\n\n 2 The dying thief rejoiced to see\n That fountain in his day;\n And there have I, as vile as he,\n Washed all my sins away.\n\n 3 O Lamb of God, thy precious blood\n Shall never lose its power,\n Till all the ransomed Church of God\n Be saved to sin no more.\n\n 4 E'er since by faith I saw the stream\n Thy flowing wounds supply,\n Redeeming love has been my theme,\n And shall be till I die.\n\n 5 And when this lisping, stammering tongue\n Lies silent in the grave,\n Then, in a nobler, sweeter song,\n I'll sing thy power to save.\n\n\n254 C. M.\n He shall save his people from their sins.\n Matt. 1:21.\n\n Salvation! O the joyful sound;\n 'Tis pleasure to our ears;\n A sovereign balm for every wound,\n A cordial for our fears.\n\n 2 Buried in sorrow and in sin,\n At hell's dark door we lay;\n But we arise by grace divine,\n To see a heavenly day.\n\n 3 Salvation! let the echo fly\n The spacious earth around;\n While all the armies of the sky\n Conspire to raise the sound.\n\n\n255 C. M.\n The Reign of Christ.\n\n Let earth, with every isle and sea,\n Rejoice; the Saviour reigns:\n His word, like fire, prepares his way,\n And mountains melt to plains.\n\n 2 His presence sinks the proudest hills\n And makes the valleys rise;\n The humble soul enjoys his smiles,\n The haughty sinner dies.\n\n 3 Adoring angels, at his birth,\n Made our Redeemer known;\n Thus shall he come to judge the earth,\n And angels guard his throne.\n\n 4 His foes shall tremble at his sight,\n And hills and seas retire;\n His children take their upward flight,\n And leave the world on fire.\n\n 5 The seeds of joy and glory sown\n For saints in darkness here,\n Shall rise and spring in worlds unknown,\n And a rich harvest bear.\n\n\n256 C. H. M.\n Thou hast put all things under his feet.\n Heb. 2:8.\n\n O North, with all thy vales of green,\n O South, with all thy palms,\n From peopled towns, and fields between,\n Uplift the voice of psalms;\n Raise, ancient East, the anthem high,\n And let the youthful West reply.\n\n 2 Lo! in the clouds of heaven appears\n God's well-beloved Son;\n He brings a train of brighter years--\n His kingdom is begun:\n He comes, a guilty world to bless\n With mercy, truth and righteousness.\n\n 3 O Father, haste the promised hour\n When at his feet shall lie\n All rule, authority, and power,\n Beneath the ample sky,\n When he shall reign from pole to pole,\n The Lord of every human soul.\n\n 4 When all shall heed the words he said,\n Amid their daily cares,\n And by the loving life he led\n Shall strive to pattern theirs;\n And he who conquered Death shall win,\n The mighty conquest over Sin.\n\n\n257 C. P. M.\n The only foundation.\n\n Had I ten thousand gifts beside,\n I'd cleave to Jesus crucified,\n And build on him alone;\n For no foundation is there given\n On which to place my hopes of heaven,\n But Christ, the corner-stone.\n\n 2 Possessing Christ I all possess,\n Wisdom, and strength, and righteousness,\n And holiness complete;\n Bold in his name, I dare draw nigh\n Before the Ruler of the sky,\n And all his justice meet.\n\n 3 There is no path to heavenly bliss,\n To solid joy or lasting peace,\n But Christ, th' appointed road;\n O may we tread the sacred way,\n By faith rejoice, and praise, and pray,\n Till we sit down with God!\n\n 4 The types and shadows of the word\n Unite in Christ, the Man, the Lord,\n The Saviour kind and true;\n O may we still his word believe,\n And all his promises receive,\n And all his precepts do.\n\n 5 As he above for ever lives,\n And life to dying mortals gives,\n Eternal and divine;\n O may his Spirit in me dwell!\n Then, saved from sin, and death, and hell,\n Eternal life is mine.\n\n\n258 S. M.\n All we like sheep have gone astray.\n Isaiah. 53:6.\n\n Like sheep we went astray,\n And broke the fold of God;\n Each wandering in a different way,\n But all the downward road.\n\n 2 How dreadful was the hour\n When God our wanderings laid,\n And did at once his vengeance pour\n Upon the Shepherd's head.\n\n 3 How glorious was the grace\n When Christ sustained the stroke!\n His life and blood the Shepherd pays,\n A ransom for the flock.\n\n 4 But God hath raised his head\n O'er all the sons of men,\n And made him see a numerous seed\n To recompense his pain.\n\n\n259 S. M.\n Seen of angels.\n 1 Tim. 3:16.\n\n Beyond the starry skies,\n Far as th' eternal hills,\n Yon heaven of heavens, with living light,\n Our great Redeemer fills.\n\n 2 Around him angels fair,\n In countless armies shine;\n And ever, in exalted lays,\n They offer songs divine.\n\n 3 \"Hail, Prince of life!\" they cry,\n \"Whose unexampled love\n Moved thee to quit those glorious realms\n And royalties above.\"\n\n 4 And when he stooped to earth,\n And suffered rude disdain,\n They cast their honors at his feet,\n And waited in his train.\n\n 5 They saw him on the cross,\n While darkness vailed the skies;\n And when he burst the gates of death,\n They saw the Conqueror rise.\n\n 6 They thronged his chariot wheels,\n And bore him to his throne;\n Then swept their golden harps and sung--\n \"The glorious work is done.\"\n\n\n260 8s & 5s.\n And they sung a new song.\n Rev. 14:3.\n\n Sing of Jesus, sing for ever\n Of the love that changes never!\n Who, or what, from him can sever\n Those he makes his own?\n\n 2 With his blood the Lord hath bought them,\n When they knew him not, he sought them,\n And from all their wanderings brought them;\n His the praise alone.\n\n 3 Through the desert Jesus leads them,\n With the bread of heaven he feeds them,\n And through all their way he speeds them\n To their home above.\n\n 4 There they see the Lord who bought them,\n Him who came from heaven and sought them,\n Him who by his Spirit taught them,\n Him they serve and love.\n\n\n261 7s, 6 lines.\n And that rock was Christ.\n 1 Cor. 10:4.\n\n Rock of ages, cleft for me,\n Let me hide myself in thee;\n Let the water and the blood,\n From thy riven side which flowed,\n Be of sin the double cure;\n Cleanse me from its guilt and power.\n\n 2 Not the labor of my hands\n Can fulfill the law's demands;\n Could my zeal no respite know,\n Could my tears for ever flow,\n All for sin could not atone;\n Thou must save and thou alone.\n\n 3 Nothing in my hand I bring,\n Simply to thy cross I cling;\n Naked, come to thee for dress;\n Helpless, look to thee for grace;\n Foul, I to the fountain fly;\n Wash me, Saviour, or I die.\n\n 4 While I draw this fleeting breath,\n When my heart-strings break in death,\n When I soar to worlds unknown,\n See thee on thy judgment throne,\n Rock of ages, cleft for me,\n Let me hide myself in thee.\n\n\n262 7s, double.\n A covert from the storm.\n Isaiah 4:6.\n\n Jesus, lover of my soul,\n Let me to thy bosom fly,\n While the billows near me roll,\n While the tempest still is high;\n Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,\n Till the storm of life is past,\n Safe into the haven guide,\n O receive my soul at last.\n\n 2 Other refuge have I none,\n Hangs my helpless soul on thee!\n Leave, O leave me not alone,\n Still support and comfort me:\n All my trust on thee is stayed,\n All my help from thee I bring,\n Cover my defenseless head\n With the shadow of thy wing.\n\n 3 Thou, O Christ, art all I want,\n Boundless love in thee I find;\n Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,\n Heal the sick, and lead the blind.\n Just and holy is thy name,\n Prince of Peace and Righteousness;\n Most unworthy, Lord, I am,\n Thou art full of love and grace.\n\n 4 Plenteous grace with thee is found,\n Grace to pardon all my sins;\n Let the healing streams abound,\n Make and keep me pure within.\n Thou of life the fountain art,\n Freely let me take of thee;\n Spring thou up within my heart,\n Rise to all eternity.\n\n\n263 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Friend of sinners.\n\n One there is above all others,\n Well deserves the name of Friend;\n His is love beyond a brother's,\n Costly, free, and knows no end;\n Hallelujah!\n Costly, free, and knows no end.\n\n 2 Which of all our friends to save us,\n Could or would have shed his blood?\n But this Saviour died, to have us\n Reconciled in him to God.\n Hallelujah!\n Reconciled in him to God.\n\n 3 When he lived on earth abased,\n Friend of sinners was his name;\n Now above all glory raised,\n He rejoices in the same;\n Hallelujah!\n He rejoices in the same.\n\n\n264 11s.\n The Rock that is higher than I.\n\n In seasons of grief to my God I'll repair,\n When my heart is o'erwhelmed with sorrow and care:\n From the end of the earth unto thee will I cry,\n Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I!\n Higher than I, higher than I,\n Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.\n\n 2 When Satan the tempter comes in like a flood\n To drive my poor soul from the fountain of good,\n I'll pray to the Lord who for sinners did die--\n Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.\n\n 3 And when I have finished my pilgrimage here,\n Complete in Christ's righteousness I shall appear,\n In the swellings of Jordan, all dangers defy,\n And look to the Rock that is higher than I.\n\n 4 And when the last trumpet shall sound thro' the skies,\n And the dead from the dust of the earth shall arise,\n Transported I'll join with the ransomed on high,\n To praise the great Rock that is higher than I!\n Higher than I, higher than I,\n To praise the great Rock that is higher than I.\n\n\n265 6s & 4s.\n I am Alpha and Omega.\n\n Cling to the mighty One, Ps. lxxxix. 19.\n Cling in thy grief; Heb. xii. 11.\n Cling to the Holy One, Heb. vii. 26.\n He gives relief; Ps. cxvi. 8.\n Cling to the Gracious One, Ps. cxvi. 5.\n Cling in thy pain, Ps. lv. 4.\n Cling to the Faithful One, 1 Thess. v. 24.\n He will sustain. Ps. xxviii. 8.\n\n 2 Cling to the Living One, Heb. vii. 25.\n Cling in thy woe, Ps. lxxxvi. 7.\n Cling to the Loving One 1 John iv. 16.\n Through all below; Romans viii. 38, 39.\n Cling to the Pardoning One, Is. lv. 7.\n He speaketh peace; John xiv. 27.\n Cling to the Healing One, Exod. xv. 26.\n Anguish shall cease. Ps. cxvi. 8.\n\n 3 Cling to the Bleeding One, 1 John i. 7.\n Cling to his side; John xx. 27.\n Cling to the Risen One, Rom. vi. 9.\n In him abide; John xv. 4.\n Cling to the Coming One, Rev. xxii. 20.\n Hope shall arise; Titus ii. 13.\n Cling to the Reigning One, Eph. i. 20-23.\n Joy lights thine eyes. Ps. xvi. 11.\n\n\n\n\n THE GOSPEL--THE PROCLAMATION.\n\n\n266 L. M.\n The Christian banner.\n\n The Christian banner! dread no loss\n Where that broad ensign floats unrolled;\n But let the fair and sacred cross\n Blaze out from every radiant fold:\n Stern foes arise, a countless throng,\n Loud as the storms of Kara's sea,\n But though the strife be fierce and long,\n That cross shall wave in victory.\n\n 2 Sound the shrill trumpet, sound, and call\n The people of the mighty King,\n And bid them keep that standard all\n In martial thousands gathering:\n Let them come forth from every clime\n That lies beneath the circling sun,\n Various, as flowers in that sweet clime\n Where flowers are, in heart, but one.\n\n 3 Soldiers of heaven! take sword and shield,\n Look up to him who rules on high,\n And forward to the glorious field,\n Where noble martyrs bleed and die;\n Press onward, scorning flight or fear,\n As deep waves burst on Norway's coast,\n And let the startled nations hear\n The war-shout of the Christian host.\n\n 4 Lift up the banner: rest no more,\n Nor let this righteous warfare cease,\n Till man's last tribe shall bow before\n The Lord of lords--the Prince of Peace:\n Go! bear it forth, ye strong and brave;\n Let not those bright folds once be furled,\n Till that high sun shall see them wave\n Above a blest but conquered world.\n\n\n267 L. M.\n The Spirit of the Lord, etc.\n Isaiah 59:19.\n\n Fling out the banner! let it float\n Sky-ward and sea-ward, high and wide:\n The sun, that lights its shining folds,\n The cross, on which the Saviour died.\n\n 2 Fling out the banner! angels bend,\n In anxious silence, o'er the sign;\n And vainly seek to comprehend\n The wonder of the love divine.\n\n 3 Fling out the banner! heathen lands\n Shall see, from far, the glorious sight,\n And nations, crowding to be born,\n Baptize their spirits in its light.\n\n 4 Fling out the banner! sin-sick souls,\n That sink and perish in the strife,\n Shall touch in faith its radiant hem,\n And spring immortal into life.\n\n 5 Fling out the banner! let it float\n Sky-ward and sea-ward, high and wide;\n Our glory, only in the cross;\n Our only hope, the Crucified.\n\n 6 Fling out the banner! wide and high,\n Sea-ward and sky-ward, let it shine;\n Nor skill, nor might, nor merit, ours;\n We conquer only in that sign.\n\n\n268 L. M.\n The power of God unto salvation.\n Rom. 1:16.\n\n God, in the gospel of his Son,\n Makes his eternal counsels known;\n 'Tis here his richest mercy shines,\n And truth is drawn in fairest lines.\n\n 2 Here sinners of a humble frame\n May taste his grace and learn his name;\n 'Tis writ in characters of blood,\n Severely just--immensely good.\n\n 3 Here Jesus, in ten thousand ways,\n His soul-attracting charms displays;\n Recounts his poverty and pains,\n And tells his love in melting strains.\n\n 4 May this blest volume ever lie\n Close to my heart, and near my eye--\n Till life's last hour my soul engage,\n And be my chosen heritage!\n\n\n269 L. M.\n Pentecost.\n Acts 2.\n\n Great was the day, the joy was great,\n When the beloved disciples met;\n And on their heads the Spirit came,\n And sat like tongues of cloven flame.\n\n 2 What gifts, what miracles he gave!\n The power to kill, the power to save,\n Furnished their tongues with wondrous words,\n Instead of shields, and spears, and swords.\n\n 3 Thus armed, he sent the champions forth,\n From east to west, from south to north;\n Go, and assert your Saviour's cause--\n Go, spread the mystery of the cross!\n\n 4 These weapons of the holy war,\n Of what almighty force they are\n To make our stubborn passions bow,\n And lay the proudest rebel low!\n\n 5 The Greeks and Jews, the learned and rude,\n Are by these heavenly arms subdued;\n While Satan rages at his loss,\n And hates the doctrine of the cross.\n\n\n270 S. M.\n How beautiful are the feet, etc.\n Rom. 10:15.\n\n How beauteous are their feet\n Who stand on Zion's hill!\n Who bring salvation on their tongues,\n And words of peace reveal!\n\n 2 How charming is their voice!\n How sweet the tidings are!\n \"Zion, behold thy Saviour King,\n He reigns and triumphs here.\"\n\n 3 How happy are our ears\n That hear this joyful sound,\n Which kings and prophets waited for,\n And sought, but never found!\n\n 4 How blessed are our eyes\n That see this heavenly light!\n Prophets and kings desired it long,\n But died without the sight.\n\n 5 The watchmen join their voice,\n And tuneful notes employ;\n Jerusalem breaks forth in songs,\n And deserts learn the joy.\n\n 6 The Lord makes bare his arm\n Through all the earth abroad;\n Let every nation now behold\n Their Saviour and their God.\n\n\n271 S. M.\n Power of God's word.\n\n Behold, the morning sun\n Begins his glorious way;\n His beams through all the nations run,\n And light and life convey.\n\n 2 But where the gospel comes,\n It spreads diviner light;\n It calls dead sinners from their tombs,\n And gives the blind their sight.\n\n 3 How perfect is thy word!\n And all thy judgments just!\n For ever sure thy promise, Lord,\n And we securely trust.\n\n 4 My gracious God, how plain\n Are thy directions given!\n O, may I never read in vain,\n But find the path to heaven.\n\n\n272 8s & 7s.\n The gospel trumpet.\n\n Hark! how the gospel trumpet sounds!\n Through all the world the echo bounds!\n And Jesus, by redeeming blood,\n Is bringing sinners back to God,\n And guides them safely by his word\n To endless day.\n\n 2 Hail, Jesus! all victorious Lord!\n Be thou by all mankind adored!\n For us didst thou the fight maintain,\n And o'er our foes the victory gain,\n That we with thee might ever reign\n In endless day.\n\n 3 Fight on, ye conquering souls, fight on,\n And when the conquest you have won,\n Then palms of victory you shall hear,\n And in his kingdom have a share,\n And crowns of glory ever wear,\n In endless day.\n\n 4 There we shall in full chorus join,\n With saints and angels all combine\n To sing of his redeeming love,\n When rolling years shall cease to move,\n And this shall be our theme above,\n In endless day.\n\n\n273 H. M.\n The year of jubilee.\n\n Blow ye the trumpet, blow\n The gladly-solemn sound;\n Let all the nations know,\n To earth's remotest bound,\n The year of jubilee is come;\n Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.\n\n 2 Exalt the Lamb of God,\n The sin-atoning Lamb;\n Redemption by his blood,\n Through all the lands, proclaim:\n The year of jubilee is come;\n Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.\n\n 3 Ye slaves of sin and hell,\n Your liberty receive,\n And safe in Jesus dwell,\n And blest in Jesus live:\n The year of jubilee is come;\n Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.\n\n 4 The gospel trumpet hear,\n The news of pardoning grace:\n Ye happy souls, draw near;\n Behold your Saviour's face:\n The year of jubilee is come;\n Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.\n\n 5 Jesus, our great High Priest,\n Has full atonement made;\n Ye weary spirits, rest;\n Ye mourning souls, be glad:\n The year of jubilee is come;\n Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.\n\n\n274 8s, peculiar.\n The royal proclamation.\n\n Hear the royal proclamation,\n The glad tidings of salvation,\n Publishing to every creature,\n To the ruined sons of nature,\n Jesus reigns--he reigns victorious,\n Over heaven and earth most glorious!\n Jesus reigns.\n\n 2 See the royal banners flying,\n Hear the heralds loudly crying:\n \"Rebel sinners, royal favor\n Now is offered by the Saviour.\"\n\n 3 Here is wine, and milk, and honey,\n Come and purchase without money,\n Mercy like a flowing fountain\n Streaming from the holy mountain.\n\n 4 Shout, you tongues of every nation,\n To the bounds of the creation,\n Shout the praise of Judah's Lion,\n The almighty King of Zion.\n\n 5 Shout, O saints! make joyful mention,\n Christ has purchased our redemption;\n Angels, shout the joyful story,\n Through the brighter worlds of glory.\n\n\n275 6s & 4s.\n Holding forth the word of life.\n Phil. 2:16.\n\n Sound, sound the truth abroad!\n Bear ye the word of God\n Through the wide world;\n Tell what our Lord has done,\n Tell how the day is won,\n Tell from his lofty throne\n Satan is hurled.\n\n 2 Far over sea and land,\n Go at your Lord's command,\n Bear ye his name;\n Bear it to every shore,\n Regions unknown explore,\n Enter at every door;\n Silence is shame.\n\n 3 Speed on the wings of love;\n Jesus who reigns above\n Bids us to fly;\n They who his message bear\n Should neither doubt nor fear;\n He will their friend appear,\n He will be nigh.\n\n 4 When on the mighty deep,\n He will their spirits keep,\n Stayed on his word;\n When in a foreign land,\n No other friend at hand,\n Jesus will by them stand,\n Jesus their Lord.\n\n\n\n\n INVITATIONS.\n\n\n276 L. M. peculiar.\n Haste thee; escape thither.\n Gen. 19:22.\n\n Haste, traveler, haste! the night comes on,\n And many a shining hour is gone;\n The storm is gathering in the west,\n And thou art far from home and rest:\n Haste, traveler, haste!\n\n 2 Awake, awake! pursue thy way\n With steady course, while yet 'tis day;\n While thou art sleeping on the ground,\n Danger and darkness gather round;\n Haste, traveler, haste!\n\n 3 The rising tempest sweeps the sky;\n The rains descend, the winds are high;\n The waters swell, and death and fear\n Beset thy path; no refuge near:\n Haste, traveler, haste!\n\n 4 Haste, while a shelter you may gain--\n A covert from the wind and rain;\n A hiding-place, a rest, a home--\n A refuge from the wrath to come:\n Haste, traveler, haste!\n\n 5 Then linger not in all the plain;\n Flee for thy life--the mountain gain;\n Look not behind, make no delay;\n O, speed thee, speed thee on thy way!\n Haste, traveler, haste!\n\n\n277 L. M.\n The night cometh.\n John 9:4.\n\n While life prolongs its precious light,\n Mercy is found, and peace is given;\n But soon, ah! soon, approaching night\n Shall blot out every hope of heaven.\n\n 2 While God invites, how blest the day!\n How sweet the gospel's charming sound!\n Come, sinners, haste, O haste away,\n While yet a pardoning God is found.\n\n 3 Soon, borne on time's most rapid wing,\n Shall death command you to the grave,\n Before his bar your spirits bring,\n And none be found to hear or save.\n\n 4 In that lone land of deep despair,\n No Sabbath's heavenly light shall rise;\n No God regard your bitter prayer,\n Nor Saviour call you to the skies.\n\n 5 Now God invites, how blest the day!\n How sweet the gospel's charming sound!\n Come, sinners, haste, O haste away,\n While yet a pardoning God is found.\n\n\n278 L. M.\n Come unto me.\n Matt. 11:28.\n\n With tearful eyes I look around;\n Life seems a dark and stormy sea;\n Yet midst the gloom I hear a sound,\n A heavenly whisper, Come to me!\n\n 2 It tells me of a place of rest;\n It tells me where my soul may flee:\n O! to the weary, faint, opprest,\n How sweet the bidding, Come to me!\n\n 3 Come, for all else must fail and die;\n Earth is no resting-place for thee;\n To heaven direct thy weeping eye;\n I am thy portion; Come to me!\n\n 4 O voice of mercy, voice of love!\n In conflict, grief, and agony,\n Support me, cheer me from above,\n And gently whisper, Come to me!\n\n\n279 L. M.\n To-day, if you will hear his voice.\n Heb. 4:7.\n\n To-day, if you will hear his voice,\n Now is the time to make your choice;\n Say will you to Mount Zion go?\n Say, will you come to Christ or no?\n\n 2 Say, will you be for ever blest,\n And with this glorious Jesus rest?\n Will you be saved from guilt and pain?\n Will you with Christ for ever reign?\n\n 3 Make now your choice, and halt no more;\n He now is waiting for the poor:\n Say, now, poor souls, what will you do?\n Say, will you come to Christ or no?\n\n 4 Fathers and sons for ruin bound,\n Amidst the gospel's joyful sound,\n Come, go with us, and seek to prove\n The joys of Christ's redeeming love.\n\n 5 Matrons and maids, we look to you;\n Are you resolved to perish, too?\n To rush in carnal pleasures on,\n And sink in flaming ruin down?\n\n 6 Once more we ask you in his name,\n (We know his love remains the same),\n Say, will you to Mount Zion go?\n Say, will you come to Christ or no?\n\n\n280 L. M.\n An evening expostulation.\n\n O, do not let the word depart,\n And close thine eye against the light;\n Poor sinner, harden not thy heart;\n Thou wouldst be saved; why not to-night?\n\n 2 To-morrow's sun may never rise\n To bless thy long deluded sight;\n This is the time; O, then be wise!\n Thou wouldst be saved; why not to-night?\n\n 3 Our God in pity lingers still;\n And wilt thou thus his love requite?\n Renounce at length thy stubborn will;\n Thou wouldst be saved; why not to-night?\n\n 4 Our blessed Lord refuses none\n Who would to him their souls unite;\n Then be the work of grace begun:\n Thou wouldst be saved; why not to-night?\n\n\n281 L. M.\n Inviting.\n\n Come, weary souls, with sin distressed,\n Come and accept the promised rest;\n The Saviour's gracious call obey,\n And cast your gloomy fears away.\n\n 2 Oppressed with guilt, a heavy load,\n O! come and bow before your God;\n Divine compassion, mighty love,\n Will all the painful load remove.\n\n 3 Here mercy's boundless ocean flows\n To cleanse your guilt and heal your woes;\n Pardon, and life, and endless peace--\n How rich the gift, how free the grace!\n\n 4 Lord, we accept with thankful heart\n The hope thy gracious words impart:\n We come with trembling, yet rejoice,\n And bless thy kind inviting voice.\n\n\n282 L. M.\n One thing needful.\n\n Why will ye waste on trifling cares\n That life which God's compassion spares;\n While, in the various range of thought,\n The one thing needful is forgot?\n\n 2 Shall God invite you from above?\n Shall Jesus urge his dying love?\n Shall troubled conscience give you pain?\n And all these pleas unite in vain?\n\n 3 Not so your eyes will always view\n Those objects which you now pursue:\n Not so will heaven and hell appear\n When death's decisive hour is near.\n\n 4 Almighty God! thy power impart;\n Fix deep conviction on each heart;\n Nor let us waste on trifling cares\n That life which thy compassion spares.\n\n\n283 L. M.\n The broad and the narrow way.\n Matt. 7:13, 14.\n\n Broad is the road that leads to death;\n And thousands walk together there;\n But wisdom shows a narrow path,\n With here and there a traveler.\n\n 2 \"Deny thyself, and take thy cross,\"\n Is the Redeemer's great command;\n Nature must count her gold but dross,\n If she would gain this heavenly land.\n\n 3 The fearful soul that tires and faints,\n And walks the ways of God no more,\n Is but esteemed almost a saint,\n And makes his own destruction sure.\n\n 4 Lord, let my hopes be not in vain,\n Create my heart entirely new;\n This hypocrites could ne'er attain;\n This false apostates never knew.\n\n\n284 L. M.\n Ecclesiastes 9:10.\n\n Life is the time to serve the Lord,\n The time t' insure the great reward;\n And while the lamp holds out to burn,\n O hasten, sinner, to return!\n\n 2 Life is the hour that God has given\n To 'scape from hell and fly to heaven,\n The day of grace, when mortals may\n Secure the blessings of the day.\n\n 3 The living know that they must die,\n Beneath the clods their dust must lie;\n Then have no share in all that's done\n Beneath the circle of the sun.\n\n 4 Then what my thoughts design to do,\n My hands, with all your might pursue:\n Since no device nor work is found,\n Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.\n\n 5 There are no acts of pardon passed\n In the cold grave to which we haste;\n O may we all receive thy grace,\n And see with joy thy smiling face.\n\n\n285 C. M.\n Come, for all things are now ready.\n Luke 14:17.\n\n Come, sinners, to the gospel feast;\n O, do no longer stay;\n Let every soul be Jesus' guest,\n O, do no longer stay away!\n CHORUS.\n O, do no longer stay away,\n For now your Saviour calls,\n And the gospel sounds the jubilee;\n O, do no longer stay away.\n\n 2 Hark! 'tis the Saviour's gracious call,\n The invitation is to all;\n Come, all the world--come, sinner, thou--\n All things in Christ are ready now.\n\n 3 Come, all you souls by sin oppressed,\n You weary wanderers after rest;\n You poor and maimed, and halt and blind,\n In Christ a hearty welcome find.\n\n 4 The message, as from God, receive--\n You all may come to Christ and live;\n O let his love your hearts constrain,\n Nor suffer him to call in vain.\n\n 5 This is the time--no more delay;\n The Saviour calls you all to-day:\n O may his call effectual prove!\n Accept the offers of his love!\n\n\n286 C. M.\n Hear and your soul shall live.\n Isaiah 55:3.\n\n Let every mortal ear attend,\n And every heart rejoice;\n The trumpet of the gospel sounds\n With an inviting voice:\n\n 2 Ho! all you hungry, starving souls,\n Who feed upon the wind,\n And vainly strive with earthly toys\n To fill an empty mind.\n\n 3 Eternal wisdom has prepared\n A soul-reviving feast,\n And bids your longing appetites\n The rich provision taste.\n\n 4 Ho! you that pant for living streams,\n And pine away and die,\n Here may you quench your raging thirst\n With springs that never dry.\n\n 5 Rivers of love and mercy here\n In a rich ocean join;\n Salvation in abundance flows,\n Like floods of milk and wine.\n\n 6 Great God! the treasures of thy love\n Are everlasting mines,\n Deep as our helpless miseries are,\n And boundless as our sins.\n\n 7 The happy gates of gospel grace\n Stand open night and day:\n Lord, we are come to seek supplies,\n And drive our wants away.\n\n\n287 C. M.\n For there is no difference.\n Rom. 10:12.\n\n How free and boundless is the grace\n Of our redeeming God!\n Extending to the Greek and Jew,\n And men of every blood.\n\n 2 Come, all you wretched sinners, come,\n He'll form your souls anew;\n His gospel and his heart have room\n For rebels such as you.\n\n 3 His doctrine is almighty love;\n There's virtue in his name\n To turn a raven to a dove,\n A lion to a lamb.\n\n 4 Come, then, accept the offered grace,\n And make no more delay;\n His love will all your guilt efface,\n And soothe your fears away.\n\n\n288 C. M.\n Let him return unto the Lord.\n Isaiah 55:7.\n\n Return, O wanderer, now return,\n And seek thy Father's face;\n Those new desires which in thee burn\n Were kindled by his grace.\n\n 2 Return, O wanderer, now return!\n He hears thy humble sigh!\n He sees thy softened spirit mourn,\n When no one else is nigh.\n\n 3 Return, O wanderer, now return!\n Thy Saviour bids thee live;\n Go to his feet, and grateful learn\n How freely he'll forgive.\n\n 4 Return, O wanderer, now return!\n And wipe the falling tear;\n Thy Father calls--no longer mourn,\n 'Tis love invites thee near.\n\n\n289 C. M.\n Incline your ear, and come.\n Isaiah 55:3.\n\n The Saviour calls; let every ear\n Attend the heavenly sound;\n Ye doubting souls, dismiss your fear;\n Hope smiles reviving round.\n\n 2 For every thirsty, longing heart,\n Here streams of bounty flow,\n And life, and health, and bliss impart,\n To banish mortal woe.\n\n 3 Ye sinners, come; 'tis mercy's voice;\n That gracious voice obey;\n 'Tis Jesus calls to heavenly joys;\n And can you yet delay?\n\n 4 Dear Saviour, draw reluctant hearts;\n To thee let sinners fly,\n And take the bliss thy love imparts,\n And drink, and never die.\n\n\n290 C. M.\n Let him that is athirst, come.\n Rev. 22:17.\n\n O what amazing words of grace\n Are in the gospel found,\n Suited to every sinner's case\n Who hears the joyful sound!\n\n 2 Come, then, with all your wants and wounds\n Your every burden bring;\n Here love, unchanging love, abounds--\n A deep celestial spring.\n\n 3 This spring with living water flows,\n And heavenly joy imparts;\n Come, thirsty souls! your wants disclose,\n And drink with thankful hearts.\n\n 4 Millions of sinners, vile as you,\n Have here found life and peace;\n Come then, and prove its virtues too,\n And drink, adore, and bless.\n\n\n291 C. M.\n That whoso believeth might not perish.\n John 3:15.\n\n Come, humble sinner, in whose breast\n A thousand thoughts revolve;\n Come, with your guilt and fear oppressed,\n And make this last resolve:\n\n 2 I'll go to Jesus, though my sin\n Has like a mountain rose;\n His kingdom now I'll enter in,\n Whatever may oppose.\n\n 3 Humbly I'll bow at his command,\n And there my guilt confess;\n I'll own I am a wretch undone,\n Without his sovereign grace.\n\n 4 Surely he will accept my plea,\n For he has bid me come;\n Forthwith I'll rise, and to him flee,\n For yet, he says, there's room.\n\n 5 I can not perish if I go;\n I am resolved to try:\n For if I stay away, I know\n I must for ever die.\n\n\n292 C. M.\n Come to the Ark.\n Gen. 7:1.\n\n Come to the ark, come to the ark;\n To Jesus come away;\n The pestilence walks forth by night,\n The arrow flies by day.\n\n 2 Come to the ark; the waters rise,\n The seas their billows rear:\n While darkness gathers o'er the skies,\n Behold a refuge near!\n\n 3 Come to the ark, all, all that weep\n Beneath the sense of sin:\n Without, deep calleth unto deep,\n But all is peace within.\n\n 4 Come to the ark, ere yet the flood\n Your lingering steps oppose;\n Come, for the door, which open stood,\n Is now about to close.\n\n\n293 C. M.\n He that cometh to me shall never hunger.\n John 6:35.\n\n Ye wretched, hungry, starving poor,\n Behold a royal feast,\n Where mercy spreads her bounteous store\n For every humble guest.\n\n 2 See, Jesus stands with open arms;\n He calls, he bids you come;\n Guilt holds you back, and fear alarms,\n But see, there yet is room,\n\n 3 Room in the Saviour's bleeding heart;\n There love and pity meet:\n Nor will he bid the soul depart\n That trembles at his feet.\n\n 4 O come, and with his children taste\n The blessings of his love,\n While hope attends the sweet repast\n Of nobler joys above.\n\n 5 There, with united heart and voice,\n Before th' eternal throne,\n Ten thousand thousand souls rejoice\n In ecstasies unknown.\n\n 6 And yet ten thousand thousand more\n Are welcome still to come;\n Ye longing souls, the grace adore;\n Approach--there yet is room.\n\n\n294 C. M.\n In this mountain shall the Lord, etc.\n Isaiah 25:6.\n\n The King of heaven his table spreads,\n And dainties crown the board;\n Not paradise, with all its joys,\n Could such delights afford.\n\n 2 Pardon and peace to dying men,\n And endless life are given,\n Through the rich blood that Jesus shed,\n To raise our souls to heaven.\n\n 3 You hungry poor, that long have strayed\n In sin's dark mazes, come;\n Come from your most obscure retreat,\n And grace shall find you room.\n\n 4 Millions of souls in glory now\n Were fed and feasted here;\n And millions more still on the way\n Around the board appear.\n\n 5 Yet are his heart and house so large\n That millions more may come:\n Nor could the whole assembled world\n O'erfill the spacious room.\n\n 6 All things are ready: come away,\n Nor weak excuses frame;\n Crowd to your places at the feast,\n And bless the Founder's name.\n\n\n295 C. M.\n None excluded.\n\n Jesus, thy blessings are not few,\n Nor is thy gospel weak;\n Thy grace can melt the stubborn Jew,\n And heal the dying Greek.\n\n 2 Wide as the reach of Satan's rage\n Doth thy salvation flow;\n 'Tis not confined to sex nor age,\n The lofty nor the low.\n\n 3 While grace is offered to the prince,\n The poor may take his share;\n No mortal has a just pretense\n To perish in despair.\n\n 4 Come, all ye wretched sinners, come,\n He'll form your souls anew;\n His gospel and his heart have room\n For rebels such as you.\n\n 5 His doctrine is almighty love;\n There's virtue in his name\n To turn the raven to a dove,\n The lion to a lamb.\n\n\n296 C. M. peculiar.\n Draw nigh to God, etc.\n James 4:8.\n\n Return, O wanderer, to thy home,\n Thy Father calls for thee;\n No longer now an exile roam,\n In guilt and misery:\n Return, return!\n\n 2 Return, O wanderer, to thy home,\n 'Tis Jesus calls for thee;\n The Spirit and the Bride say--come;\n O! now for refuge flee;\n Return, return!\n\n 3 Return, O wanderer, to thy home,\n 'Tis madness to delay;\n There are no pardons in the tomb,\n And brief is mercy's day:\n Return, return!\n\n\n297 S. M.\n Now is the accepted time.\n 2 Cor. 6:2.\n\n Now is th' accepted time,\n Now is the day of grace;\n Now, sinners, come, without delay,\n And seek the Saviour's face.\n\n 2 Now is th' accepted time,\n The Saviour calls to-day;\n To-morrow it may be too late--\n Then why should you delay?\n\n 3 Now is th' accepted time,\n The gospel bids you come;\n And every promise in his word\n Declares there yet is room.\n\n\n298 S. M.\n Now is the day of salvation.\n 2 Cor. 6:2.\n\n Now is the day of grace;\n Now to the Saviour come;\n The Lord is calling, \"Seek my face,\n And I will guide you home.\"\n\n 2 The Father bids you speed;\n O, wherefore then delay?\n He calls in love; he sees your need;\n He bids you come to-day.\n\n 3 To-day the prize is won;\n The promise is to save;\n Then, O, be wise; to-morrow's sun\n May shine upon your grave.\n\n\n299 S. M.\n Give me thy heart.\n Prov. 23:26.\n\n Give to the Lord thine heart;\n In him all pleasures meet:\n O, come and choose the better part,\n Low at the Saviour's feet.\n\n 2 Hear, and your soul shall live;\n His peace shall be your stay--\n Peace, which the world can never give,\n Can never take away.\n\n\n300 S. M.\n Where shall the ungodly, etc.\n 1 Pet. 4:18.\n\n And will the Judge descend?\n And must the dead arise?\n And not a single soul escape\n His all-discerning eyes?\n\n 2 How will my heart endure\n The terrors of that day,\n When earth and heaven before his face,\n Astonished, shrink away?\n\n 3 But ere the trumpet shakes\n The mansions of the dead;\n Hark! from the Gospel's cheering sound,\n What joyful tidings spread.\n\n 4 Ye sinners! seek his grace,\n Whose wrath you can not bear;\n Flee to the shelter of his cross,\n And find salvation there.\n\n 5 Come! take his offers now,\n From every sin depart,\n Perform thy oft-repeated vow,\n And render him thy heart.\n\n 6 Repent! return! receive\n The grace through Jesus given;\n Sure, if with God on earth we live,\n We live with God in heaven.\n\n\n301 S. M.\n The gospel call.\n\n Ye trembling captives! hear;\n The gospel-trumpet sounds;\n No music more can charm the ear,\n Or heal your heart-felt wounds.\n\n 2 'Tis not the trump of war,\n Nor Sinai's awful roar;\n Salvation's news it spreads afar,\n And vengeance is no more.\n\n 3 Forgiveness, love, and peace,\n Glad heaven aloud proclaims;\n And earth, the jubilee's release,\n With eager rapture claims.\n\n 4 Far, far to distant lands\n The saving news shall spread;\n And Jesus all his willing bands\n In glorious triumph lead.\n\n\n302 S. M.\n Boast not thyself of to-morrow.\n Prov. 27:1.\n\n To-morrow, Lord! is thine,\n Lodged in thy sovereign hand;\n And if its sun arise and shine,\n It shines by thy command.\n\n 2 The present moment flies,\n And bears our life away;\n O, make thy servants truly wise,\n That they may live to-day.\n\n 3 Since on this fleeting hour\n Eternity is hung,\n Awake, by thine almighty power,\n The aged and the young.\n\n 4 One thing demands our care;\n O, be it still pursued!\n Lest, slighted once, the season fair\n Should never be renewed.\n\n 5 To Jesus may we fly,\n Swift as the morning light,\n Lest life's young, golden beams should die\n In sudden, endless night.\n\n\n303 7s, 6 lines.\n Come and welcome.\n\n From the cross, uplifted high,\n Where the Saviour deigns to die,\n What melodious sounds we hear,\n Bursting on the ravished ear!\n \"Love's redeeming work is done;\n Come and welcome, sinner, come.\n\n 2 \"Sprinkled now with blood the throne,\n Why beneath thy burdens groan?\n On my pierced body laid,\n Justice owns the ransom paid;\n Bow the knee, embrace the Son;\n Come and welcome, sinner, come.\n\n 3 \"Spread for thee the festal board,\n See with richest dainties stored;\n To thy Father's bosom pressed,\n Yet again a child confessed,\n Never from his house to roam--\n Come and welcome, sinner, come.\n\n 4 \"Soon the days of life shall end;\n Lo! I come, your Saviour, Friend,\n Safe your spirits to convey\n To the realms of endless day,\n Up to my eternal home;\n Come and welcome, sinner, come.\"\n\n\n304 7s.\n Turn ye; for why will ye die?\n Ezekiel 18:31.\n\n Sinners, turn--why will you die?\n God, your Maker, asks you why:\n God, who did your being give,\n Made you with himself to live.\n\n 2 Sinners, turn--why will you die?\n Christ, your Saviour, asks you why;\n He, who did your souls retrieve,\n He, who died that you might live.\n\n 3 Will you let him die in vain?\n Crucify your Lord again?\n Why, you ransomed sinners, why,\n Will you slight his grace and die?\n\n 4 Will you not his grace receive?\n Will you still refuse to live?\n O! you dying sinners, why--\n Why will you for ever die?\n\n\n305 7s, double.\n What could have been done, etc.\n Isaiah 5:4.\n\n What could your Redeemer do\n More than he has done for you?\n To procure your peace with God,\n Could he more than shed his blood?\n After all this flow of love,\n All his drawings from above,\n Why will you your Lord deny?\n Why will you resolve to die?\n\n 2 Turn, he cries, O sinner, turn!\n By his life your God hath sworn\n He would have you turn and live,\n He would all the world receive:\n If your death were his delight,\n Would he thus to life invite?\n Would he ask, beseech and cry,\n Why will you resolve to die?\n\n 3 Sinners, turn, while God is near!\n He has left you naught to fear;\n Now, e'en now, your Saviour stands,\n All day long he spreads his hands:\n Cries, \"You will not happy be,\n No, you will not come to me:\n Me who life to none deny--\n Why will you resolve to die?\"\n\n 4 Can you doubt that God is love,\n Who thus calls you from above?\n Will you not his word receive?\n Will you not his oath believe?\n See, the suffering Lord appears;\n Jesus weeps--believe his tears!\n Mingled with his blood, they cry,\n \"Why will you resolve to die?\"\n\n\n306 7s.\n Earnest entreaty.\n\n Haste, O sinner, to be wise,\n Stay not for the morrow's sun;\n Wisdom warns thee from the skies,\n All the paths of death to shun.\n\n 2 Haste, and mercy now implore;\n Stay not for the morrow's sun;\n Thy probation may be o'er\n Ere this evening's work is done.\n\n 3 Haste, O sinner, now return;\n Stay not for the morrow's sun;\n Lest thy lamp should cease to burn\n Ere salvation's work is done.\n\n 4 Haste, while yet thou canst be blest;\n Stay not for the morrow's sun,\n Death may thy poor soul arrest\n Ere the morrow is begun.\n\n\n307 7s.\n Fullness of Christ.\n\n Bleeding hearts, defiled by sin,\n Jesus Christ can make you clean;\n Contrite souls, with guilt oppressed,\n Jesus Christ can give you rest.\n\n 2 You that mourn o'er follies past,\n Precious hours and years laid waste;\n Turn to God, O turn and live,\n Jesus Christ can still forgive.\n\n 3 You that oft have wandered far\n From the light of Bethlehem's star,\n Trembling, now your steps retrace,\n Jesus Christ is full of grace.\n\n 4 Souls benighted and forlorn,\n Grieved, afflicted, tempest-worn,\n Now in Israel's rock confide,\n Jesus Christ for man has died.\n\n 5 Fainting souls, in peril's hour,\n Yield not to the tempter's power;\n On the risen Lord rely,\n Jesus Christ now reigns on high.\n\n\n308 7s, double.\n Flee from the wrath to come.\n Matt. 3:7.\n\n Sinner, art thou still secure?\n Wilt thou still refuse to pray?\n Can thy heart or hands endure\n In the Lord's avenging day?\n See his mighty arm made bare!\n Awful terrors clothe his brow!\n For his judgment now prepare,\n Thou must either break or bow.\n\n 2 At his presence nature shakes;\n Earth, affrighted, hastes to flee;\n Solid mountains melt like wax;\n What will then become of thee?\n Who his coming may abide?\n You that glory in your shame,\n Will you find a place to hide\n When the world is wrapt in flame?\n\n 3 Then the great, the rich, the wise,\n Trembling, guilty, self-condemned,\n Must behold the wrathful eyes\n Of the Judge they once blasphemed.\n Where are now their haughty looks?\n O! their horror and despair,\n When they see the opened books,\n And their dreadful sentence hear!\n\n 4 Lord, prepare us by thy grace:\n Soon we must resign our breath,\n And our souls be called to pass\n Through the iron gate of death.\n Let us now our days improve,\n Listen to the gospel voice;\n Seek the things that are above;\n Scorn the world's pretended joys.\n\n\n309 7s, 6 lines.\n My peace I give unto you.\n John 14:27.\n\n Ye who in his courts are found\n Listening to the joyful sound,\n Lost and hopeless as ye are,\n Sons of sorrow, sin and care,\n Glorify the King of kings;\n Take the peace the gospel brings.\n\n 2 Turn to Christ your longing eyes;\n View his bleeding sacrifice;\n See in him your sins forgiven,\n Pardon, holiness, and heaven;\n Glorify the King of kings;\n Take the peace the gospel brings.\n\n\n310 7s.\n The night is past.\n 1 John 2:8.\n\n Weeping sinners, dry your tears;\n Jesus on the throne appears;\n Mercy comes with balmy wing,\n Bids you his salvation sing.\n\n 2 Peace he brings you by his death,\n Peace he speaks with every breath;\n Can you slight such heavenly charms?\n Flee, O flee to Jesus' arms.\n\n\n311 8s & 7s.\n The pearl of great price.\n Matt. 13:46.\n\n Sinner, seek the priceless treasure,\n Offered without price from God;\n Here is mercy without measure,\n Flowing in the Saviour's blood.\n Come, then, to the fount of healing,\n Come, and prove its virtues true;\n Turn not from love's sweet appealing,\n Jesus shed his blood for you!\n\n 2 Come, begin the race for heaven;\n Start to-day, O do not wait;\n Now's the time that God has given;\n Sinner, do not be too late.\n When the door of mercy closes,\n You will stand and knock in vain;\n For, when justice interposes,\n Mercy will not call again!\n\n\n312 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Look unto me and be saved.\n Isaiah 45:22.\n\n Come, you sinners, poor and needy,\n Weak and wounded, sick and sore;\n Jesus ready stands to save you,\n Full of pity, love and power;\n He is able,\n He is willing--doubt no more.\n\n 2 Let not conscience make you linger,\n Nor of fitness fondly dream;\n All the fitness he requireth,\n Is to feel your need of him;\n This he gives you,\n 'Tis the Saviour's rising beam.\n\n 3 Come, you weary, heavy laden,\n Bruised and mangled by the fall;\n If you tarry till you're better,\n You will never come at all:\n Not the righteous--\n Sinners Jesus came to call.\n\n 4 Agonizing in the garden,\n Lo! your Saviour prostrate lies!\n On the bloody tree behold him!\n Hear him cry before he dies,\n \"It is finished!\"\n Sinners, will not this suffice?\n\n 5 Lo! the rising Lord, ascending,\n Pleads the virtue of his blood:\n Venture on him, venture freely,\n Let no other trust intrude:\n None but Jesus\n Can do helpless sinners good.\n\n 6 Saints and angels, joined in concert,\n Sing the praises of the Lamb,\n While the blissful seats of heaven\n Sweetly echo to his name,\n Hallelujah!\n Sinners now his love proclaim.\n\n\n313 8s & 7s.\n We are on the ocean sailing.\n\n We are on the ocean sailing,\n Homeward bound we sweetly glide;\n We are on the ocean sailing,\n To a home beyond the tide.\n Chorus.--\n All the storms will soon be over,\n Then we'll anchor in the harbor;\n We are out on the ocean sailing\n To a home beyond the tide.\n\n 2 Millions now are safely landed\n Over on the golden shore;\n Millions more are on their journey,\n Yet there's room for millions more;\n\n 3 Come on board, O ship for glory,\n Be in haste, make up your mind,\n For our vessel's weighing anchor--\n You will soon be left behind.\n\n 4 You have kindred over yonder,\n On that bright and happy shore;\n By and by we'll swell the number;\n When the toils of life are o'er.\n\n 5 Spread your sails, while heavenly breezes\n Gently waft our vessel on;\n All on board are sweetly singing;\n Free salvation is the song.\n\n 6 When we all are safely landed,\n Over on the shining shore,\n We will walk about the city,\n And we'll sing for evermore.\n\n All the storms of life are over,\n Landed in the port of glory:\n Now no more on the ocean sailing--\n Safe at home beyond the tide.\n\n\n314 8s, 7s & 4.\n He that hath ears let him hear.\n Matt. 13:9.\n\n Sinners, will you scorn the message\n Sent in mercy from above?\n Every sentence, O how tender!\n Every line is full of love;\n Listen to it;\n Every line is full of love.\n\n 2 Hear the heralds of the gospel\n News from Zion's King proclaim;\n \"Pardon to each rebel sinner;\n Free forgiveness in his name:\"\n O how gracious!\n \"Free forgiveness in his name.\"\n\n 3 Will you not receive the message--\n Listen to the joyful word;\n And embrace the news of pardon\n Offered to you by the Lord?\n Can you slight it--\n Offered to you by the Lord?\n\n 4 O ye angels, hovering round us,\n Waiting spirits, speed your way,\n Haste ye to the court of heaven;\n Tidings bear without delay;\n Rebel sinners\n Glad the message will obey.\n\n\n315 8s, 7s & 4.\n The gospel invitation.\n\n Listen to the gospel, telling\n How the Lord was crucified;\n How upon the cross he suffered,\n When he bowed his head and died,\n All for sinners!\n Come, then, to his bleeding side.\n\n 2 Listen to the gospel calling!\n Hear, O sinner, and obey!\n Come to Jesus, he will save you,\n Now, no longer stay away;\n He invites you;\n Sinner, then, make no delay,\n\n 3 Listen to the gospel pleading,\n Hasten, sinner, to arise;\n Come and cast yourself on Jesus,\n He to none his love denies;\n Trust him freely,\n Wait no longer; now be wise.\n\n 4 Listen to the gospel blessing\n All who trust the Saviour's love;\n And to those who now obey him,\n Bringing pardon from above;\n Careless sinner,\n Will you still refuse to move?\n\n 5 Listen to the gospel warning;\n All who stay away must die;\n Come, then, while all things are ready,\n Mercy calls you from on high;\n Come and welcome,\n Hear, O hear the Saviour cry!\n\n\n316 8s, 7s & 4.\n The voice of mercy.\n\n Hear, O sinner! mercy hails you,\n Now with sweetest voice she calls;\n Bids you haste to seek the Saviour,\n Ere the hand of Justice falls:\n Trust in Jesus;\n 'Tis the voice of mercy calls.\n\n 2 Haste, O sinner! to the Saviour--\n Seek his mercy while you may;\n Soon the day of grace is over;\n Soon your life will pass away!\n Haste to Jesus;\n You must perish if you stay.\n\n\n317 7s, 6s & 7s.\n The alarm.\n\n Stop, poor sinner, stop and think,\n Before you further go;\n Will you sport upon the brink\n Of everlasting woe!\n On the verge of ruin stop--\n Now the friendly warning take--\n Stay your footsteps--ere you drop\n Into the burning lake.\n\n 2 Say, have you an arm like God,\n That you his will oppose?\n Fear ye not that iron rod\n With which he breaks his foes?\n Can you stand in that dread day\n Which his justice shall proclaim--\n When the earth shall melt away\n Like wax before the flame?\n\n 3 Ghastly death will quickly come,\n And drag you to his bar;\n Then, to hear your awful doom,\n Will fill you with despair!\n All your sins will round you crowd--\n You shall mark their crimson dye--\n Each for vengeance crying loud;\n And what can you reply?\n\n 4 Though your heart were made of steel,\n Your forehead lined with brass,\n God at length will make you feel--\n He will not let you pass:\n Sinners then in vain will call--\n Those who now despise his grace--\n \"Rocks and mountains, on us fall,\n And hide us from his face.\"\n\n\n318 8s & 6s.\n If any man thirst, let him come unto me.\n John 7:37.\n\n Burdened with guilt, wouldst thou be blest?\n Trust not the world; it gives no rest:\n I bring relief to hearts oppressed;\n O, weary sinner, come!\n\n 2 Come, leave thy burden at the cross;\n Count all thy gains but empty dross;\n My grace repays all earthly loss:\n O, needy sinner, come!\n\n 3 Come, hither bring thy boding fears,\n Thine aching heart, thy bursting tears;\n 'Tis mercy's voice salutes thine ears:\n O, trembling sinner, come!\n\n 4 \"The Spirit and the Bride say, Come;\"\n Rejoicing saints re-echo, Come!\n Who faints, who thirsts, who will, may come:\n Thy Saviour bids thee come.\n\n\n319 6s.\n Sinner, come.\n\n Sinner! come, 'mid thy gloom,\n All thy guilt confessing;\n Trembling now, contrite bow,\n Take the offered blessing.\n\n 2 Sinner! come, while there's room--\n While the feast is waiting;\n While the Lord, by his word,\n Kindly is inviting.\n\n 3 Sinner! come, ere thy doom\n Shall be sealed for ever;\n Now return, grieve and mourn,\n Flee to Christ, the Saviour.\n\n 4 Sinner! come to thy home,\n High in heaven gleaming;\n To the sky lift thine eye,\n With true sorrow streaming.\n\n 5 Sinner! haste, time fleets fast,\n And the grave is yawning;\n Win renown, seize the crown,\n Eternity is dawning.\n\n\n320 8s & 3s.\n Will you go?\n\n We're traveling home to heaven above;\n Will you go?\n To sing the Saviour's dying love;\n Will you go?\n Millions have reached that blest abode,\n Anointed kings and priests to God,\n And millions more are on the road;\n Will you go?\n\n 2 We're going to see the bleeding Lamb;\n Will you go?\n In rapturous strains to praise his name;\n Will you go?\n The crown of life we there shall wear,\n The conqueror's palms our hands shall bear,\n And all the joys of heaven we'll share;\n Will you go?\n\n 3 We're going to join the heavenly choir;\n Will you go?\n To raise our voice and tune the lyre;\n Will you go?\n There saints and angels gladly sing\n Hosanna to their God and King,\n And make the heavenly arches ring;\n Will you go?\n\n 4 Ye weary, heavy-laden, come;\n Will you go?\n In the blest house there still is room;\n Will you go?\n The Lord is waiting to receive,\n If thou wilt on him now believe,\n He'll give thy troubled conscience ease;\n Come, believe.\n\n 5 The way to heaven is straight and plain,\n Will you go?\n Believe, repent, be born again;\n Will you go?\n The Saviour cries aloud to thee\n \"Take up thy cross, and follow me,\n And thou shalt my salvation see;\n Come to me.\"\n\n 6 O, could I hear some sinner say,\n I will go,\n I'll start this moment, clear the way,\n Let me go!\n My old companions, fare you well,\n I will not go with you to hell,\n With Jesus Christ I mean to dwell,\n Let me go! fare you well.\n\n\n321 9s & 8s.\n The Spirit and the Bride say come.\n Rev. 22:17.\n\n All you that are weary and sad--come!\n And you that are cheerful and glad--come!\n In robes of humility clad--come!\n The Saviour invites you to-day.\n CHORUS.\n Let youth in its freshness and bloom--come!\n Let man in the pride of his noon--come!\n Let age on the verge of the tomb--come!\n Let none in his pride stay away.\n\n 2 Let the halt, and the maimed, and the blind--come!\n Let all who are freely inclined--come!\n With an humble and peaceable mind--come!\n Away from the waters of strife.\n\n 3 The Spirit and Bride freely say--Come!\n And let him that heareth it, say--Come!\n And let him that thirsteth to-day--come!\n And drink of the fountain of life.\n\n\n322 6s & 4s, peculiar.\n The garment of praise, etc.\n Isaiah 61:3.\n\n Child of sin and sorrow, filled with dismay,\n Wait not for to-morrow, yield thee to-day;\n Heaven bids thee come\n While yet there's room:\n Child of sin and sorrow,\n Hear and obey.\n\n 2 Child of sin and sorrow, why wilt thou die?\n Come, while thou canst borrow help from on high:\n Grieve not that love,\n Which from above--\n Child of sin and sorrow--\n Would bring thee nigh.\n\n 3 Child of sin and sorrow, where wilt thou flee?\n Through that long to-morrow, eternity!\n Exiled from home,\n Darkly to roam--\n Child of sin and sorrow,\n Where wilt thou flee?\n\n 4 Child of sin and sorrow, lift up thine eye!\n Heirship thou canst borrow in worlds on high!\n In that high home,\n Graven thy name;\n Child of sin and sorrow,\n Swift homeward fly!\n\n\n323 6s & 4s.\n To-day.\n\n To-day the Saviour calls.\n Ye wanderers, come:\n O, ye benighted souls\n Why longer roam?\n\n 2 To-day the Saviour calls;\n O, hear him now;\n Within these sacred walls\n To Jesus bow.\n\n 3 To-day the Saviour calls;\n For refuge fly;\n The storm of vengeance falls,\n And death is nigh.\n\n 4 The Spirit calls to-day;\n Yield to his power;\n O, grieve him not away;\n 'Tis mercy's hour.\n\n\n324 P. M.\n Come.\n\n Come--come--come to the Saviour,\n Rich--rich mercy receive;\n Here--here you will find pardon,\n Jesus from sin will relieve;\n Come--come--come--come,\n Come to the Saviour and live.\n\n 2 Come--come laden and weary,\n Christ Christ calls thee to come;\n Leave--leave paths dark and dreary,\n Cease from the Saviour to roam;\n Come--come--come--come,\n Jesus will guide thee safe home.\n\n 3 Come--come seek his salvation,\n Now--now hear and obey;\n Hark--hark the sweet invitation,\n Angels invite you away;\n Come--come--come--come,\n Sinner, believe and obey.\n\n 4 Hark--hark, angels are singing,\n Love--love--love is their theme;\n Peace--peace joyfully bringing,\n Mercy from God the Supreme:\n Come--come--come--come,\n Jesus is rich to redeem.\n\n\n325 7s & 6s.\n Early piety.\n\n O come in life's gay morning,\n Ere in thy sunny way\n The flowers of hope have withered,\n And sorrow end thy day.\n Come, while from joy's bright fountain\n The streams of pleasure flow,\n Come ere thy buoyant spirits\n Have felt the blight of wo.\n\n 2 \"Remember thy Creator\"\n Now in thy youthful days,\n And he will guide thy footsteps\n Through life's uncertain maze.\n \"Remember thy Creator,\"\n He calls in tones of love,\n And offers deathless glories\n In brighter worlds above.\n\n 3 And in the hour of sadness,\n When earthly joys depart,\n His love shall be thy solace,\n And cheer thy drooping heart.\n And when life's storm is over,\n And thou from earth art free,\n Thy God will be thy portion\n Throughout eternity.\n\n\n326 H. M.\n The year of jubilee.\n\n Fair shines the morning star,\n The silver trumpets sound,\n Their notes re-echoing far,\n While dawns the day around:\n Joy to the slave; the slave is free;\n It is the year of jubilee.\n\n 2 Prisoners of hope, in gloom\n And silence left to die,\n With Christ's unfolding tomb,\n Your portals open fly;\n Rise with your Lord; he sets you free;\n It is the year of jubilee.\n\n 3 Ye, who yourselves have sold\n For debts to justice due,\n Ransomed, but not with gold,\n He gave himself for you!\n The blood of Christ hath made you free;\n It is the year of jubilee.\n\n 4 Captives of sin and shame,\n O'er earth and ocean, hear\n An angel's voice proclaim\n The Lord's accepted year;\n Let Jacob rise, be Israel free;\n It is the year of jubilee.\n\n\n327 6s & 7s.\n The land of promise.\n\n Sinner, go; will you go\n To the highlands of heaven?\n Where the storms never blow,\n And the long summer's given;\n Where the bright, blooming flowers\n Are their odors emitting;\n And the leaves of the bowers\n In the breezes are flitting.\n\n 2 Where the rich golden fruit\n Is in bright clusters pending,\n And the deep laden boughs,\n Of life's fair tree are bending;\n And where life's crystal stream\n Is unceasingly flowing,\n And the verdure is green,\n And eternally growing.\n\n 2 Where the saints robed in white--\n Cleansed in life's flowing fountain--\n Shining beauteous and bright,\n They inhabit the mountain;\n Where no sin, nor dismay,\n Neither trouble nor sorrow,\n Will be felt for a day,\n Nor be feared for the morrow.\n\n 4 He's prepared thee a home--\n Sinner, canst thou believe it?\n And invites thee to come,\n Sinner, wilt thou receive it?\n O come, sinner, come,\n For the tide is receding,\n And the Saviour will soon,\n And for ever, cease pleading.\n\n\n328 9s, 8s & 6s.\n Awake thou that sleepest.\n\n Hail, ransomed world! awake to glory!\n For God, the Saviour, bids you rise;\n Angelic hosts proclaim the story,\n And speed the tidings from the skies:\n Shall then the Prince of Darkness reigning,\n Oppress the earth from pole to pole,\n And bind in chains the immortal soul--\n His hands all sacred things profaning?\n Awake! O Church, awake!\n The tyrant's fetters break!\n In God's right arm of strength resolved\n On glorious victory.\n\n 2 Far let the gospel-trump be sounding--\n O'er sea, and continent, and isle;\n While the sweet voice of grace abounding,\n Shall make the burdened captive smile.\n Yes! to a world in bondage lying,\n Go teach a bleeding Saviour's name--\n Freedom from sin and death proclaim,\n On every breeze salvation flying--\n And seize the gospel sword!\n And with our mighty Lord,\n March on, march on, all hearts resolved\n On glorious victory.\n\n\n329 11s.\n Repent and turn.\n Ezekiel 18:30.\n\n O turn you! O turn you, for why will you die,\n When God in his mercy is coming so nigh?\n Now Jesus invites you, the Spirit says Come,\n The brethren are waiting to welcome you home.\n\n 2 How vain the delusion, that while you delay\n Your hearts may grow better by staying away;\n Come wretched, come starving, come just as you be,\n Here streams of salvation are flowing most free.\n\n 3 Here Jesus is ready your souls to receive;\n O, how can you question, since now you believe?\n Since sin is your burden, why will you not come?\n He now bids you welcome--he now says there's room.\n\n 4 In riches, in pleasure, what can you obtain,\n To soothe your affliction, or banish your pain;\n To bear up your spirit when summoned to die,\n Or waft you to mansions of glory on high?\n\n 5 Why will you be starving and feeding on air?\n There's mercy in Jesus, enough and to spare;\n If still you are doubting, make trial and see,\n And prove that his mercy is boundless and free.\n\n\n330 11s.\n Delay not.\n\n Delay not, delay not, O sinner, draw near,\n The waters of life are now flowing for thee;\n No price is demanded, the Saviour is here,\n Redemption is purchased--salvation is free.\n\n 2 Delay not, delay not! why longer abuse\n The love and compassion of Jesus our Lord!\n A fountain is opened; how canst thou refuse\n To wash and be cleansed in his pardoning blood?\n\n 3 Delay not, delay not! O sinner, to come;\n For mercy still lingers, and calls thee to-day;\n Her voice is not heard in the vale of the tomb;\n Her message, unheeded, will soon pass away.\n\n 4 Delay not, delay not! the Spirit of grace,\n Long grieved and resisted, entreats thee to come;\n Beware, lest in darkness thou finish thy race,\n And sink to the vale of eternity's gloom.\n\n 5 Delay not, delay not! the hour is at hand,\n The earth shall dissolve and the heavens shall fade;\n The dead, small and great, in the judgment shall stand:\n What power, then, O sinner, shall lend thee its aid?\n\n\n331 12s, 11s & 6.\n The Eden above.\n\n We're bound for the land of the pure and the holy,\n The home of the happy, the kingdom of love,\n Ye wanderers from God, in the broad road of folly,\n O say, will you go to the Eden above,\n Will you go, will you go,\n O say, will you go to the Eden above?\n\n 2 In that blessed land neither sighing nor anguish\n Can breathe in the fields where the glorified move.\n Ye heart-burdened ones, who in misery languish,\n O say, will you go to the Eden above?\n Will you go, etc.\n\n 3 Nor fraud, nor deceit, nor the hand of oppression,\n Can injure the dwellers in that holy grove;\n No wickedness there, not a shade of transgression:\n O say, will you go to the Eden above?\n Will you go, etc.\n\n 4 Each saint has a mansion, prepared and all furnished,\n Ere from this clay house he is summoned to move;\n Its gates and its towers with glory are burnished,\n O say, will you go to the Eden above?\n Will you go, etc.\n\n 5 March on, happy pilgrims, that land is before you,\n And soon its ten thousand delights we shall prove;\n Yes, soon we shall walk o'er the hills of bright glory,\n And drink the pure joys of the Eden above.\n We will go, we will go;\n O yes, we will go to the Eden above.\n\n 6 And yet, guilty sinner, we would not forsake thee,\n We halt yet a moment as onward we move;\n O come to thy Lord, in his arms he will take thee,\n And bear thee along to the Eden above.\n Will you go, will you go,\n O say, will you go to the Eden above?\n\n\n332 12s.\n The voice of free grace.\n\n The voice of free grace cries, \"Escape to the mountain!\"\n For Adam's lost race Christ hath opened a fountain;\n For sin and uncleanness, and every transgression,\n His blood flows most freely in streams of salvation.\n CHORUS.\n Hallelujah to the Lamb! he hath purchased our pardon;\n We'll praise him again when we pass over Jordan.\n\n 2 Ye souls that are wounded! O! flee to the Saviour;\n He calls you in mercy--'tis infinite favor;\n Your sins are increasing--escape to the mountain--\n His blood can remove them, it flows from the fountain.\n\n 3 O Jesus! ride onward, triumphantly glorious,\n O'er sin, death, and hell, thou art more than victorious;\n Thy name is the theme of the great congregation,\n While angels and saints raise the shout of salvation.\n\n\n333 11s & 10s.\n The wandering sinner, etc.\n\n Restless thy spirit, poor wandering sinner,\n Restless and roving: O, come to thy home!\n Return to the arms, to the bosom, of mercy;\n The Saviour of sinners invites thee to come.\n\n 2 Darkness surrounds thee, and tempests are rising,\n Fearful and dangerous the path thou hast trod;\n But mercy shines forth in the rainbow of promise,\n To welcome the wanderer home to his God.\n\n 3 Peace to the storm in thy soul shall be spoken,\n Guilt from thy bosom be banished away;\n And heaven's sweet breezes, o'er death's rolling billows,\n Shall waft thee at last to the regions of day.\n\n\n334 12s & 11s.\n The harvest is past, etc.\n Jer. 8:20.\n\n Hark, sinner, while God from on high doth entreat thee,\n And warnings with accents of mercy do blend;\n Give ear to his voice, lest in judgment he meet thee;\n \"The harvest is passing, the summer will end.\"\n\n 2 How oft of thy danger and guilt he hath told thee!\n How oft still the message of mercy doth send!\n Haste, haste, while he waits in his arms to enfold thee;\n \"The harvest is passing, the summer will end.\"\n\n 3 Despised and rejected, at length he may leave thee:\n What anguish and horror thy bosom will rend!\n Then, haste thee, O sinner, while he will receive thee;\n \"The harvest is passing, the summer will end.\"\n\n 4 Ere long, and Jehovah will come in his power;\n Our God will arise, with his foes to contend:\n Haste, haste thee, O sinner; prepare for that hour;\n \"The harvest is passing, the summer will end.\"\n\n 5 The Saviour will call thee in judgment before him:\n O, bow to his scepter, and make him thy Friend;\n Now yield him thy heart; make haste to adore him;\n \"The harvest is passing, the summer will end.\"\n\n\n335 8s, 6s & 4.\n Entreaty.\n\n Sinners, come; no longer wander;\n Turn you from your evil way;\n Precious time no longer squander:\n Come, come away.\n\n 2 Christ for you his life has offered,\n What can you excusing say,\n If you slight the pardon proffered?\n Come, come away.\n\n 3 Hold not back in hesitation,\n There is danger in delay,\n Haste, secure your soul's salvation,\n Come, come away.\n\n 4 You may feel regret and sorrow,\n If you fail to come to-day,\n God may grant you no to-morrow,\n Come, come away.\n\n\n\n\n FAITH AND REPENTANCE.\n\n\n336 L. M.\n The wise choice.\n\n Though all the world my choice deride,\n Yet Jesus shall my portion be;\n For I am pleased with none beside;\n The fairest of the fair is he.\n\n 2 Sweet is the vision of thy face,\n And kindness o'er thy lips is shed;\n Lovely art thou, and full of grace,\n And glory beams around thy head.\n\n 3 Thy sufferings I embrace with thee,\n Thy poverty and shameful cross;\n The pleasure of the world I flee,\n And deem its treasures only dross.\n\n 4 Be daily dearer to my heart,\n And ever let me feel thee near;\n Then willingly with all I'd part,\n Nor count it worthy of a tear.\n\n\n337 L. M.\n The solace of faith.\n\n When human hopes and joys depart,\n I give thee, Lord, a contrite heart;\n And on my weary spirit steal\n The thoughts that pass all earthly weal.\n\n 2 I cast above my tearful eyes,\n And muse upon the starry skies;\n And think that he who governs there\n Still keeps me in his guardian care.\n\n 3 I gaze upon the opening flower,\n Just moistened with the evening shower;\n And bless the love which made it bloom,\n To chase away my transient gloom.\n\n 4 I think, whene'er this mortal frame\n Returns again to whence it came,\n My soul shall wing its happy flight\n To regions of eternal light.\n\n\n338 L. M.\n Christ the soul's portion.\n\n Let thoughtless thousands choose the road\n That leads the soul away from God;\n This happiness, blest Lord, be mine,\n To live and die entirely thine.\n\n 2 On Christ, by faith, my soul would live,\n From him my life, my all receive;\n To him devote my fleeting hours,\n Serve him alone with all my powers.\n\n 3 Christ is my everlasting all;\n To him I look, on him I call;\n He will my every want supply\n In time and through eternity.\n\n 4 Soon will the Lord, my life, appear;\n Soon shall I end my trials here;\n Leave sin and sorrow, death and pain;\n To live is Christ, to die is gain.\n\n\n339 L. M.\n God calling yet.\n\n God calling yet! shall I not hear?\n Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?\n Shall life's swift passing years all fly,\n And still my soul in slumbers lie?\n\n 2 God calling yet! shall I not rise?\n Can I his loving voice despise,\n And basely his kind care repay?\n He calls me still: can I delay?\n\n 3 God calling yet! and shall he knock,\n And I my heart the closer lock?\n He still is waiting to receive,\n And shall I dare his Spirit grieve?\n\n 4 God calling yet! and shall I give\n No heed, but still in bondage live?\n I wait, but he does not forsake;\n He calls me still! my heart, awake!\n\n 5 God calling yet! I can not stay;\n My heart I yield without delay;\n Vain world, farewell! from thee I part;\n The voice of God hath reached my heart.\n\n\n340 L. M.\n Christ the Redeemer and Judge.\n\n Now to the Lord, who makes us know\n The wonders of his dying love,\n Be humble honors paid below,\n And strains of nobler praise above.\n\n 2 'Twas he who cleansed us from our sins,\n And washed us in his precious blood;\n 'Tis he who makes us priests and kings,\n And brings us, rebels, near to God.\n\n 3 To Jesus, our atoning Priest,\n To Jesus, our eternal King,\n Be everlasting power confessed;\n Let every tongue his glory sing.\n\n 4 Behold, on flying clouds he comes,\n And every eye shall see him move;\n Though with our sins we pierced him once,\n Now he displays his pardoning love.\n\n 5 The unbelieving world shall wail,\n While we rejoice to see the day:\n Come, Lord, nor let thy promise fail,\n Nor let the chariot long delay.\n\n\n341 L. M.\n Self-abasement.\n\n Ah! wretched, vile, ungrateful heart!\n That can from Jesus thus depart;\n Thus fond of trifles, widely rove,\n Forgetful of a Saviour's love.\n\n 2 Dear Lord! to thee I would return,\n And at thy feet, repentant, mourn;\n There let me view thy pardoning love,\n And never from thy sight remove.\n\n 3 O let thy love, with sweet control,\n Bind every passion of my soul;\n Bid every vain desire depart,\n And dwell for ever in my heart.\n\n\n342 L. M.\n Returning.\n\n Awaked from sin's delusive sleep,\n My heavy guilt I feel, and weep;\n Beneath a weight of woes oppressed,\n I come to thee, my Lord, for rest.\n\n 2 Now, from thy throne of grace above,\n Look down upon my soul in love;\n That smile shall sweeten all my pain,\n And make my soul rejoice again.\n\n 3 By thy divine, transforming power,\n My ruined nature now restore;\n And let my life and temper shine,\n In blest resemblance, Lord! to thine.\n\n\n343 L. M.\n Just as I am.\n\n Just as I am--without one plea,\n But that thy blood was shed for me,\n And that thou bidd'st me come to thee,\n O Lamb of God, I come.\n\n 2 Just as I am, and waiting not\n To rid my soul of one dark blot--\n To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,\n O Lamb of God, I come.\n\n 3 Just as I am, though tossed about\n With many a conflict, many a doubt,\n With fears within, and foes without--\n O Lamb of God, I come.\n\n 4 Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;\n Sight, riches, healing of the mind,\n Yea, all I need, in thee to find,\n O Lamb of God, I come.\n\n 5 Just as I am, thou wilt receive,\n Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve,\n Because thy promise I believe--\n O Lamb of God, I come.\n\n 6 Just as I am--thy love unknown,\n Has broken every barrier down;\n Now to be thine, yea, thine alone,\n O Lamb of God, I come.\n\n\n344 L. M.\n God, be merciful to me a sinner.\n Luke 18:13.\n\n Hear, gracious God! a sinner's cry,\n For I have nowhere else to fly;\n My hope, my only hope's in thee;\n O God, be merciful to me!\n\n 2 To thee I come, a sinner poor,\n And wait for mercy at thy door;\n Indeed, I've nowhere else to flee;\n O God, be merciful to me!\n\n 3 To thee I come, a sinner weak,\n And scarce know how to pray or speak;\n From fear and weakness set me free;\n O God, be merciful to me!\n\n 4 To thee I come, a sinner vile;\n Upon me, Lord, vouchsafe to smile!\n Mercy alone I make my plea;\n O God, be merciful to me!\n\n 5 To thee I come, a sinner great,\n And well thou knowest all my state;\n Yet full forgiveness is with thee;\n O God, be merciful to me!\n\n 6 To thee I come, a sinner lost,\n Nor have I aught wherein to trust,\n But where thou art, Lord, I would be,\n O God, be merciful to me!\n\n\n345 L. M.\n The love of Christ constraineth.\n 2 Cor. 5:14.\n\n Lord, when my thoughts delighted rove\n Amid the wonders of thy love,\n Sweet hope revives my drooping heart,\n And bids intruding fears depart.\n\n 2 For mortal crimes a sacrifice,\n The Lord of life, the Saviour dies;\n What love! what mercy! how divine!\n Jesus, and can I call thee mine?\n\n 3 Repentant sorrows fill my heart,\n But mingling joy allays the smart;\n O, may my future life declare\n This sorrow and the joy sincere.\n\n 4 Be all my heart and all my days\n Devoted to my Saviour's praise;\n And let my glad obedience prove\n How much I owe, how much I love.\n\n\n346 L. M.\n The contrite heart.\n\n Show pity, Lord; O Lord forgive;\n Let a repentant rebel live;\n Are not thy mercies large and free?\n May not a sinner trust in thee?\n\n 2 My crimes, though great, can not surpass\n The power and glory of thy grace;\n Great God, thy nature hath no bound;\n So let thy pardoning love be found.\n\n 3 O, wash my soul from every sin,\n And make my guilty conscience clean;\n Here, on my heart, the burden lies,\n And past offenses pain my eyes.\n\n 4 My lips, with shame, my sins confess,\n Against thy law, against thy grace;\n Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,\n I am condemned, but thou art clear.\n\n 5 Should sudden vengeance seize my breath,\n I must pronounce thee just in death;\n And if my soul were sent to hell,\n Thy righteous law approves it well.\n\n 6 Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord,\n Whose hope, still hovering round thy word,\n Would light on some sweet promise there,\n Some sure support against despair.\n\n\n347 L. M.\n Restore unto to me the joy of thy salvation.\n Psalm 51.\n\n A broken heart, my God, my King,\n Is all the sacrifice I bring;\n The God of grace will ne'er despise\n A broken heart for sacrifice.\n\n 2 My soul lies humbled in the dust,\n And owns thy dreadful sentence just;\n Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye,\n And save the soul condemned to die.\n\n 3 Then will I teach the world thy ways;\n Sinners shall learn thy sovereign grace;\n I'll lead them to my Saviour's blood,\n And they shall praise a pardoning God.\n\n 4 O, may thy love inspire my tongue!\n Salvation shall be all my song;\n And all my powers shall join to bless\n The Lord, my Strength and Righteousness.\n\n\n348 L. M. 6 lines.\n Here is my heart.\n\n Here is my heart--I give it thee!\n My God, I heard thee call, and say,\n \"Not to the world, my child--to me!\"\n I heard thy voice and will obey;\n Here is love's offering to my King,\n Which in glad sacrifice I bring.\n\n 2 Here is my heart! so hard before,\n But now by thy rich grace made meet;\n Yet bruised and sad, it can but pour\n Its tears and anguish at thy feet:\n It groans beneath the weight of sin,\n It sighs salvation's joy to win.\n\n 3 Here is my heart! its longings end\n In Christ as near his cross it draws;\n It says, \"Thou art my rest, my Friend,\n Thy precious blood my ransom was;\"\n In thee, the Saviour, it has found\n That peace and blessedness abound.\n\n\n349 L. M. 6 lines.\n Bethesda.\n\n Around Bethesda's healing wave,\n Waiting to hear the rustling wind\n Which spoke the angel nigh, who gave\n Its virtue to that holy spring,\n With patience and with hope endued,\n Were seen the gathered multitude.\n\n 2 Bethesda's pool has lost its power!\n No angel, by his glad descent\n Dispenses that diviner dower\n Which with its healing waters went;\n But he, whose word surpassed its wave,\n Is still omnipotent to save.\n\n 3 Saviour! thy love is still the same\n As when that healing word was spoke;\n Still in thine all-redeeming name\n Dwells power to burst the strongest yoke!\n O, be that power, that love, displayed,\n Help those whom thou alone canst aid.\n\n\n350 L. M. 6 lines.\n Come unto me, all ye that labor.\n Matt. 11:28.\n\n Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan\n Hath taught each scene the notes of woe;\n Cease thy complaint, suppress thy groan,\n And let thy tears forget to flow:\n Behold, the precious balm is found\n To lull thy pain, to heal thy wound.\n\n 2 Come, freely come, by sin oppressed;\n On Jesus cast thy weighty load;\n In him thy refuge find, thy rest,\n Safe in the mercy of thy God:\n Thy God's thy Saviour--glorious word!\n O, hear, believe, and bless the Lord!\n\n\n351 L. M.\n The Star of Bethlehem.\n\n When marshaled on the nightly plain,\n The glittering host bestud the sky,\n One star alone, of all the train,\n Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.\n\n 2 Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,\n From every host, from every gem;\n But one alone the Saviour speaks--\n It is the Star of Bethlehem.\n\n 3 Once on the raging seas I rode;\n The storm was loud, the night was dark,\n The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed\n The wind that tossed my foundering bark.\n\n 4 Deep horror then my vitals froze;\n Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;\n When suddenly a star arose--\n It was the Star of Bethlehem.\n\n 5 It was my guide, my light, my all;\n It bade my dark forebodings cease;\n And through the storm and danger's thrall,\n It led me to the port of peace.\n\n 6 Now safely moored, my perils o'er,\n I'll sing, first in night's diadem,\n For ever, and for evermore,\n The Star--the Star of Bethlehem.\n\n\n352 C. M.\n Power of faith.\n\n Faith adds new charms to earthly bliss,\n And saves us from its snares;\n It yields support in all our toils,\n And softens all our cares.\n\n 2 The wounded conscience knows its power\n The healing balm to give;\n That balm the saddest heart can cheer,\n And make the dying live.\n\n 3 Unvailing wide the heavenly world,\n Where endless pleasures reign,\n It bids us seek our portion there,\n Nor bids us seek in vain.\n\n 4 There, still unshaken, would we rest\n Till this frail body dies;\n And then, on faith's triumphant wing,\n To endless glory rise.\n\n\n353 C. M.\n Increase our faith.\n Luke 17:5.\n\n O for a faith that will not shrink,\n Though pressed by every foe,\n That will not tremble on the brink\n Of any earthly woe!\n\n 2 That will not murmur nor complain\n Beneath the chastening rod,\n But, in the hour of grief or pain,\n Will lean upon its God;\n\n 3 A faith that shines more bright and clear\n When tempests rage without;\n That, when in danger, knows no fear,\n In darkness feels no doubt;\n\n 4 That bears, unmoved, the world's dread frown,\n Nor heeds its scornful smile;\n That seas of trouble can not drown,\n Nor Satan's arts beguile.\n\n 5 A faith that keeps the narrow way\n Till life's last hour is fled,\n And with a pure and heavenly ray,\n Lights up a dying bed.\n\n 6 Lord, give us such a faith as this;\n And then, whate'er may come,\n We'll taste, e'en here, the hallowed bliss\n Of an eternal home.\n\n\n354 C. M.\n A living faith.\n\n Mistaken souls, that dream of heaven,\n And make their empty boast\n Of inward joys, and sins forgiven,\n While they are slaves to lust!\n\n 2 How vain are fancy's airy flights,\n If faith be cold and dead!\n None but a living power unites\n To Christ, the living Head.\n\n 3 'Tis faith that purifies the heart;\n 'Tis faith that works by love;\n That bids all sinful joys depart,\n And lifts the thoughts above.\n\n 4 Faith must obey our Father's will,\n As well as trust his grace;\n A pardoning God requires us still\n To walk in all his ways.\n\n 5 This faith shall every fear control\n By its celestial power,\n With holy triumph fill the soul\n In death's approaching hour.\n\n\n355 C. M.\n Glorying in the cross.\n\n Didst thou, Lord Jesus, suffer shame,\n And bear the cross for me?\n And shall I fear to own thy name,\n Or thy disciple be?\n\n 2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should dread\n To suffer shame or loss;\n O, let me in thy footsteps tread,\n And glory in thy cross.\n\n\n356 C. M.\n Call to repentance.\n\n Repent! the voice celestial cries,\n No longer dare delay:\n The soul that scorns the mandate dies,\n And meets a fiery day.\n\n 2 No more the sovereign eye of God\n O'erlooks the crimes of men;\n His heralds now are sent abroad\n To warn the world of sin.\n\n 3 O sinners! in his presence bow,\n And all your guilt confess;\n Accept the offered Saviour now\n Nor trifle with his grace.\n\n 4 Soon will the awful trumpet sound,\n And call you to his bar;\n His mercy knows the appointed bound,\n And yields to justice there.\n\n 5 Amazing love--that yet will call,\n And yet prolong our days!\n Our hearts, subdued by goodness, fall,\n And weep, and love, and praise.\n\n\n357 C. M.\n God giveth grace to the humble.\n\n Come, let us to the Lord our God,\n With contrite hearts return!\n Our God is gracious, nor will leave\n The desolate to mourn.\n\n 2 His voice commands the tempest forth,\n And stills the stormy wave;\n And though his arm be strong to smite,\n 'Tis also strong to save.\n\n 3 Our hearts, if God we seek to know,\n Shall know him and rejoice;\n His coming like the morn shall be;\n Like morning songs his voice.\n\n 4 As dew upon the tender herb,\n Diffusing fragrance round;\n As showers that usher in the spring,\n And cheer the thirsty ground:\n\n 5 So shall his presence bless our souls,\n And shed a joyful light\n That hallowed morn shall chase away\n The sorrows of the night.\n\n\n358 C. M.\n There is joy over one sinner, etc.\n Luke 15:7.\n\n O how divine, how sweet the joy,\n When but one sinner turns,\n And, with a humble, broken heart,\n His sins and errors mourns!\n\n 2 Pleased with the news, the saints below,\n In songs their tongues employ;\n Beyond the skies the tidings go,\n And heaven is filled with joy.\n\n 3 Well pleased the Father sees, and hears\n The conscious sinner's moan;\n Jesus receives him in his arms,\n And claims him for his own.\n\n 4 Nor angels can their joy contain,\n But kindle with new fire;\n \"The sinner lost is found,\" they sing,\n And strike the sounding lyre.\n\n\n359 C. M.\n The heart's surrender.\n\n Welcome, O Saviour! to my heart;\n Possess thy humble throne;\n Bid every rival hence depart,\n And claim me for thine own.\n\n 2 The world and Satan I forsake--\n To thee, I all resign;\n My longing heart, O Jesus! take,\n And fill with love divine.\n\n 3 O! may I never turn aside,\n Nor from thy bosom flee;\n Let nothing here my heart divide--\n I give it all to thee.\n\n\n360 C. M.\n Whoso forsaketh not all that he hath.\n Luke 14:33.\n\n And must I part with all I have,\n Jesus, my Lord! for thee?\n This is my joy, since thou hast done\n Much more than this for me.\n\n 2 Yes, let it go; one look from thee\n Will more than make amends\n For all the losses I sustain\n Of credit, riches, friends.\n\n 3 Ten thousand worlds, ten thousand lives,\n How worthless they appear,\n Compared with thee, supremely good,\n Divinely bright and fair.\n\n 4 Saviour of souls! while I from thee\n A single smile obtain,\n Though destitute of all things else,\n I'll glory in my gain.\n\n\n361 C. M.\n A plea for mercy.\n\n Mercy alone can meet my case,\n For mercy, Lord, I cry;\n Jesus, Redeemer, show thy face\n In mercy, or I die.\n\n 2 I perish, and my doom were just;\n But wilt thou leave me? No!\n I hold thee fast, my hope, my trust;\n I will not let thee go.\n\n 3 To thee, thee only, will I cleave;\n Thy word is all my plea;\n That word is truth, and I believe--\n Have mercy, Lord, on me.\n\n\n362 C. M.\n It is I: be not afraid.\n Matt. 14:27.\n\n When I sink down in gloom or fear,\n Hope blighted or delayed,\n Thy whisper, Lord, my heart shall cheer,\n \"'Tis I: be not afraid!\"\n\n 2 Or, startled at some sudden blow,\n If fretful thoughts I feel,\n \"Fear not, it is but I!\" shall flow\n As balm my wound to heal.\n\n 3 Nor will I quit thy way, though foes\n Some onward pass defend;\n From each rough voice the watchword goes,\n \"Be not afraid! ... a friend!\"\n\n 4 And O! when judgment's trumpet clear\n Awakes me from the grave,\n Still in its echo may I hear,\n \"'Tis Christ! he comes to save.\"\n\n\n363 C. P. M.\n Christ our only hope.\n\n Desponding soul, O cease thy woe;\n Dry up thy tears; to Jesus go,\n In faith's appointed way;\n Let not thy unbelieving fears\n Still hold thee back--thy Saviour hears--\n From him no longer stay.\n\n 2 No works of thine can e'er impart\n A balm to heal thy wounded heart,\n Or solid comfort give;\n Turn, then, to him who freely gave\n His precious blood thy soul to save:\n E'en now he bids thee live.\n\n 3 Helpless and lost, to Jesus fly!\n His power and love are ever nigh\n To those who seek his face;\n Thy deepest guilt on him was laid;\n He bore thy sins, thy ransom paid;\n O, haste to share his grace.\n\n\n364 S. M.\n You shall find rest for your souls.\n Matt. 11:29.\n\n Ah! what avails my strife,\n My wandering to and fro?\n Thou hast the words of endless life;\n Ah! whither should I go?\n\n 2 Thy condescending grace\n To me did freely move;\n It calls me still to seek thy face,\n And stoops to ask my love.\n\n 3 Lord! at thy feet I fall;\n I long to be set free;\n I fain would now obey the call,\n And give up all for thee.\n\n\n365 S. M.\n Yielding.\n\n And can I yet delay\n My little all to give?\n To tear my soul from earth away\n For Jesus to receive?\n\n 2 Nay, but I yield, I yield;\n I can hold out no more;\n I sink, by dying love compelled,\n And own thee conqueror.\n\n 3 Though late, I all forsake;\n My friends, my all, resign;\n Gracious Redeemer! take, O take,\n And seal me ever thine.\n\n 4 Come, and possess me whole,\n Nor hence again remove;\n Settle and fix my wavering soul\n With all thy weight of love.\n\n 5 My one desire be this,\n Thy only love to know;\n To seek and taste no other bliss,\n No other good below.\n\n\n366 S. M.\n God's mercy to the penitent.\n\n Sweet is the friendly voice\n Which speaks of life and peace;\n Which bids the penitent rejoice,\n And sin and sorrow cease.\n\n 2 No balm on earth like this\n Can cheer the contrite heart;\n No flattering dreams of earthly bliss\n Such pure delight impart.\n\n 3 Still merciful and kind,\n Thy mercy, Lord, reveal;\n The broken heart thy love can bind,\n The wounded spirit heal.\n\n 4 Thy presence shall restore\n Peace to my anxious breast;\n Lord, let my steps be drawn no more\n From paths which thou hast blessed.\n\n\n367 7s.\n Father, I have sinned.\n Luke 15:18.\n\n Love for all! and can it be?\n Can I hope it is for me?\n I, who strayed so long ago,\n Strayed so far, and fell so low!\n\n 2 I, the disobedient child,\n Wayward, passionate and wild;\n I, who left my Father's home\n In forbidden ways to roam!\n\n 3 I, who spurned his loving hold,\n I, who would not be controlled;\n I, who would not hear his call,\n I, the willful prodigal!\n\n 4 I, who wasted and misspent\n Every talent he had lent;\n I, who sinned again, again,\n Giving every passion rein!\n\n 5 To my Father can I go?\n At his feet myself I'll throw,\n In his house there yet may be\n Place, a servant's place, for me.\n\n 6 See, my Father waiting stands;\n See, he reaches out his hands;\n God is love! I know, I see,\n Love for me--yes, even me.\n\n\n368 7s.\n Sighing for home.\n\n People of the living God!\n I have sought the world around,\n Paths of sin and sorrow trod,\n Peace and comfort nowhere found.\n\n 2 Now to you my spirit turns,\n Turns, a fugitive unblessed;\n Brethren! where your altar burns,\n O receive me into rest.\n\n 3 Lonely I no longer roam,\n Like the cloud, the wind, the wave:\n Where you dwell shall be my home,\n Where you die shall be my grave.\n\n 4 Mine the God whom you adore,\n Your Redeemer shall be mine;\n Earth can fill my heart no more,\n Every idol I resign.\n\n 5 Tell me not of gain or loss,\n Ease, enjoyment, pomp, and power;\n Welcome! poverty and cross,\n Shame, reproach, affliction's hour.\n\n 6 \"Follow me!\" I know thy voice,\n Jesus, Lord! thy steps I see;\n Now I take thy yoke by choice;\n Light thy burden now to me.\n\n\n369 7s, double.\n Longing for rest.\n\n Does the gospel word proclaim\n Rest for those that weary be?\n Then, my soul, put in thy claim--\n Sure that promise speaks to thee:\n Marks of grace I can not show,\n All polluted is my best;\n But I weary am, I know,\n And the weary long for rest.\n\n 2 Burdened with a load of sin,\n Harassed with tormenting doubt,\n Hourly conflicts from within,\n Hourly crosses from without;\n All my little strength is gone,\n Sink I must without supply;\n Sure upon the earth is none\n Can more weary be than I.\n\n 3 In the ark the weary dove\n Found a welcome resting-place;\n Thus my spirit longs to prove\n Rest in Christ, the Ark of grace;\n Tempest-tossed I long have been,\n And the flood increases fast;\n Open, Lord, and take me in,\n Till the storm be overpast!\n\n\n370 7s.\n Forward.\n Exodus 14:15.\n\n When we can not see our way,\n Let us trust, and still obey;\n He who bids us forward go,\n Can not fail the way to show.\n\n 2 Though the sea be deep and wide,\n Though a passage seem denied;\n Fearless let us still proceed,\n Since the Lord vouchsafes to lead.\n\n 3 Though it seems the gloom of night,\n Though we see no ray of light;\n Since the Lord himself is there,\n 'Tis not meet that we should fear.\n\n 4 Night with him is never night;\n Where he is, there all is light;\n When he calls us, why delay?\n They are happy who obey.\n\n 5 Be it ours, then, while we're here,\n Him to follow without fear;\n Where he calls us, there to go,\n What he bids us, that to do.\n\n\n371 8s & 6s.\n The unseen Friend.\n\n O holy Saviour! Friend unseen,\n Since on thine arm thou bidd'st me lean,\n Help me, throughout life's changing scene,\n By faith to cling to thee!\n\n 2 Blest with this fellowship divine,\n Take what thou wilt, I'll not repine;\n For, as the branches to the vine,\n My soul would cling to thee.\n\n 3 Though far from home, fatigued, oppressed,\n Here have I found a place of rest;\n An exile still, yet not unblest,\n Because I cling to thee.\n\n 4 What though the world deceitful prove,\n And earthly friends and hopes remove;\n With patient, uncomplaining love,\n Still would I cling to thee.\n\n 5 Though oft I seem to tread alone\n Life's dreary waste, with thorns o'ergrown,\n Thy voice of love in gentlest tone,\n Still whispers, \"Cling to me!\"\n\n 6 Though faith and hope are often tried,\n I ask not, need not aught beside;\n So safe, so calm, so satisfied,\n The soul that clings to thee!\n\n\n372 6s.\n Cling to the Crucified.\n\n Cling to the Crucified!\n His eye shall guard thee well--\n For thee, fast from his side,\n The crimson current fell.\n\n 2 Cling to the Crucified!\n My weary feet in peace\n His tender hand shall guide\n Till all thy wanderings cease.\n\n 3 Cling to the Crucified!\n His love the golden door\n For thee shall open wide,\n And bless thee evermore.\n\n\n\n\n BAPTISM.\n\n\n373 L. M.\n Ashamed of Jesus.\n\n Jesus, and shall it ever be,\n A mortal man ashamed of thee:\n Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise,\n Whose glory shines through endless days.\n\n 2 Ashamed of Jesus! Sooner far\n Let evening blush to own a star!\n He sheds the beams of light divine\n O'er this benighted soul of mine.\n\n 3 Ashamed of Jesus! Just as soon\n Let morning be ashamed of noon;\n 'Tis midnight with my soul, till he,\n Bright Morning Star, bid darkness flee.\n\n 4 Ashamed of Jesus! that dear friend,\n On whom my hopes of heaven depend!\n No! when I blush, be this my shame,\n That I no more revere his name.\n\n 5 Ashamed of Jesus! Yes, I may,\n When I've no guilt to wash away,\n No tear to wipe, no good to crave,\n No fears to quell, no soul to save.\n\n 6 Till then--nor is my boasting vain--\n Till then I'll boast a Saviour slain!\n And O! may this my glory be,\n That Christ is not ashamed of me!\n\n 7 His institutions would I prize,\n Take up my cross, the shame despise--\n Dare to defend his noble cause,\n And yield obedience to his laws.\n\n\n374 L. M.\n The spirit of obedience.\n\n We love thy name, we love thy laws,\n And joyfully embrace thy cause;\n We love thy cross, the shame, the pain,\n O Lamb of God, for sinners slain.\n\n 2 We sink beneath the mystic flood;\n O, bathe us in thy cleansing blood;\n We die to sin, and seek a grave,\n With thee, beneath the yielding wave.\n\n 3 And as we rise, with thee to live,\n O, let the Holy Spirit give\n The sealing unction from above,\n The breath of life, the fire of love.\n\n\n375 L. M.\n Following.\n\n Jesus my all to heaven has gone,\n He whom I fix my hopes upon;\n His path I see, and I'll pursue\n The narrow way, till him I view.\n\n 2 The way the holy prophets went,\n The road that leads from banishment,\n The King's highway of holiness--\n I'll go, for all his paths are peace.\n\n\n376 L. M.\n Christ's example.\n\n Our Saviour bowed beneath the wave,\n And meekly sought a watery grave;\n Come see the sacred path he trod,\n A path well-pleasing to our God.\n\n 2 His voice we hear, his footsteps trace,\n And hither come to seek his face,\n To do his will, to feel his love,\n And join our songs with songs above.\n\n 3 Hosanna to the Lamb divine!\n Let endless glories round him shine!\n High o'er the heavens for ever reign,\n O Lamb of God! for sinners slain!\n\n\n377 L. M.\n The baptism of Jesus.\n\n Come, happy souls, adore the Lamb,\n Who loved our race ere time began,\n Who vailed his Godhead in our clay,\n And in an humble manger lay.\n\n 2 To Jordan's stream the Spirit led,\n To mark the path his saints should tread;\n With joy they trace the sacred way,\n To see the place where Jesus lay.\n\n 3 Baptized by John in Jordan's wave,\n The Saviour left his watery grave;\n Heaven owned the deed, approved the way,\n And blessed the place where Jesus lay.\n\n 4 Come, all who love his precious name;\n Come tread his steps, and learn of him;\n Happy beyond expression they\n Who find the place where Jesus lay.\n\n\n378 L. M.\n A baptismal hymn.\n\n The great Redeemer we adore,\n Who came the lost to seek and save--\n Went humbly down from Jordan's shore\n To find a tomb beneath its wave!\n\n 2 With thee into thy watery tomb,\n Lord, 'tis our glory to descend;\n 'Tis wondrous grace that gives us room\n To share the grave of such a friend.\n\n 3 Yet, as the yielding waves give way\n To let us see the light again,\n So, on the resurrection day,\n The bands of death proved weak and vain.\n\n 4 Thus, when thou shalt again appear,\n The gates of death shall open wide:\n Our dust thy mighty voice shall hear,\n And rise and triumph at thy side.\n\n\n379 L. M.\n If any man serve me, etc.\n John 12:26.\n\n See how the willing converts trace\n The path their great Redeemer trod:\n And follow through his liquid grave\n The meek, the lowly Son of God!\n\n 2 Here they renounce their former deeds,\n And to a heavenly life aspire,\n Their rags for glorious robes exchanged,\n They shine in clean and bright attire.\n\n 3 O sacred rite, by thee the name\n Of Jesus we to own begin;\n This is our resurrection pledge,\n Pledge of the pardon of our sin.\n\n 4 Glory to God on high be given,\n Who shows his grace to sinful men;\n Let saints on earth, and hosts in heaven,\n In concert join their loud Amen.\n\n\n380 C. M.\n Hinder me not.\n Gen. 24:56.\n\n In all my Lord's appointed ways,\n My journey I'll pursue;\n Hinder me not, you much-loved saints,\n For I must go with you.\n\n 2 Through floods and flames, if Jesus lead,\n I'll follow where he goes;\n Hinder me not, shall be my cry,\n Though earth and hell oppose.\n\n 3 Through trials and through sufferings too,\n I'll go at his command;\n Hinder me not, for I am bound\n To my Immanuel's land.\n\n 4 And when my Saviour calls me home,\n Still this my cry shall be--\n Hinder me not--come, welcome death--\n I'll gladly go with thee.\n\n\n381 C. M.\n He that is ashamed of me, and of my word.\n Mark 8:38.\n\n Ashamed of Christ! our souls disdain\n The mean, ungenerous thought;\n Shall we disown that friend whose blood\n To man salvation brought?\n\n 2 With the glad news of love and peace,\n From heaven to earth he came;\n For us endured the painful cross,\n For us despised the shame.\n\n 3 To his command let us submit\n Ourselves without delay;\n Our lives--yea, thousand lives of ours,\n His love can ne'er repay.\n\n 4 Each faithful follower Jesus views\n With infinite delight;\n Their lives to him are dear--their death\n Is precious in his sight.\n\n 5 To bear his name--his cross to bear--\n Our highest honor this!\n Who nobly suffers for him now,\n Shall reign with him in bliss.\n\n\n382 C. M.\n He left us an example.\n\n Buried beneath the yielding wave,\n The great Redeemer lies;\n Faith views him in the watery grave,\n And thence beholds him rise.\n\n 2 With joy we in his footsteps tread,\n And would his cause maintain,\n Like him be numbered with the dead,\n And with him rise and reign.\n\n 3 Now, blest Redeemer, we to thee\n Our grateful voices raise;\n Washed in the fountain of thy blood,\n Our lives shall be thy praise.\n\n\n383 C. M.\n Lord, if thou wilt, etc.\n Matt. 8:2.\n\n O Lord, and will thy pardoning love\n Embrace a wretch so vile?\n Wilt thou my load of guilt remove,\n And bless me with thy smile?\n\n 2 Hast thou the cross for me endured,\n And all its shame despised?\n And shall I be ashamed, O Lord,\n With thee to be baptized?\n\n 3 Didst thou the great example lead,\n In Jordan's swelling flood!\n And shall my pride disdain the deed,\n That's worthy of my God!\n\n 4 O Lord, the ardor of thy love\n Reproves my cold delays;\n And now my willing footsteps move\n In thy delightful ways.\n\n\n384 C. M.\n The Holy Spirit descended, etc.\n Luke 3:22.\n\n Meekly in Jordan's flowing stream\n The great Redeemer bowed;\n Bright was the glory's sacred beam\n That hushed the wondering crowd.\n\n 2 Thus God descended to approve\n The deed that Christ had done;\n Thus came the emblematic Dove,\n And hovered over the Son.\n\n 3 So may the Spirit come to-day\n To our baptismal scene;\n Let thoughts of earth be far away,\n And every mind serene.\n\n 4 This day we give to holy joy;\n This day to heaven belongs;\n Raised to new life, we will employ\n In melody our tongues.\n\n\n385 C. M.\n I come to do thy will.\n Heb. 10:7.\n\n \"I come,\" the great Redeemer cries,\n \"To do thy will, O Lord!\"\n At Jordan's flood, behold! he seals\n The sure prophetic word.\n\n 2 \"Thus it becomes us to fulfill\n All righteousness,\" he said;\n He spake obedient, and beneath\n The yielding wave was laid.\n\n 3 Hark! a glad voice--the Father speaks,\n From heaven's exalted hight;\n \"This is my Son, my well beloved,\n In whom I do delight.\"\n\n 4 Jesus, the Saviour, well beloved!\n His name we will profess,\n Like him, desirous to fulfill\n Each law of righteousness.\n\n 5 No more we'll count ourselves our own,\n But his in bonds of love;\n O! may such bonds for ever draw\n Our souls to things above.\n\n\n386 S. M.\n Math. 3:16.\n\n Come and behold the place\n Where once your Saviour lay;\n Confess that he is Lord of all,\n And humble homage pay.\n\n 2 Laid in the watery grave,\n He quickly rose again;\n Buried with him, we too shall rise,\n And endless life obtain.\n\n 3 Now may the Spirit crown,\n With tokens of his grace,\n The solemn service of this day,\n And bid us go in peace.\n\n\n387 S. M.\n The same.\n\n Saviour, thy law we love,\n Thy pure example bless,\n And with a firm, unwavering zeal,\n Would in thy footsteps press.\n\n 2 Not to the fiery pains\n By which the martyrs bled;\n Not to the scourge, the thorn, the cross,\n Our favored feet are led--\n\n 3 But, at this peaceful tide,\n Assembled in thy fear,\n The homage of obedient hearts,\n We humbly offer here.\n\n\n388 S. M.\n Follow thou me.\n John 21:22.\n\n Here, Saviour, we would come,\n In thine appointed way;\n Obedient to thy high commands,\n Our solemn vows we pay.\n\n 2 O, bless this sacred rite,\n To bring us near to thee;\n And may we find that as our day,\n Our strength shall also be.\n\n\n389 S. M.\n Thus it becometh us.\n Matt. 3:15.\n\n With willing hearts we tread\n The path the Saviour trod;\n We love th' example of our Head,\n The glorious Lamb of God.\n\n 2 On thee, on thee alone,\n Our hope and faith rely;\n O thou who didst for sin atone,\n Who didst for sinners die.\n\n 3 We trust thy sacrifice,\n To thy dear cross we flee;\n O, may we die to sin, and rise\n To life and bliss in thee.\n\n\n390 7s, 6 lines.\n Lord, save me.\n Matt. 14:30.\n\n Jesus, Lamb of God, for me\n Thou, the Lord of life, didst die;\n Whither--whither, but to thee,\n Can a trembling sinner fly?\n Death's dark waters o'er me roll,\n Save, O save, my sinking soul!\n\n 2 Never bowed a martyred head,\n Weighed with equal sorrow down;\n Never blood so rich was shed,\n Never king wore such a crown!\n To thy cross and sacrifice,\n Faith now lifts her tearful eyes.\n\n 3 All my soul, by love subdued,\n Melts in deep contrition there;\n By thy mighty grace renewed,\n New-born hope forbids despair;\n Lord, thou canst my guilt forgive,\n Thou hast bid me look and live.\n\n 4 While with broken heart I kneel,\n Sinks the inward storm to rest;\n Life--immortal life--I feel\n Kindled in my throbbing breast;\n Thine--for ever thine--I am,\n Glory to the bleeding Lamb!\n\n\n391 7s.\n And hath washed us from our sins, etc.\n Rev. 1:5.\n\n Jesus, to thy wounds I fly;\n Purge my sins of deepest dye;\n Lamb of God, for sinners slain,\n Wash away my crimson stain.\n\n 2 Purge me in that sacred flood,\n In that fountain of thy blood;\n Then thy Father's eye shall see\n Not a spot of guilt in me.\n\n\n392 7s, 6 lines.\n He is our peace.\n Eph. 2:14.\n\n Weary souls that wander wide\n From the central point of bliss,\n Turn to Jesus crucified;\n Fly to those dear wounds of his;\n Sink into the purple flood,\n Rise into the life of God.\n\n 2 Find in Christ the way of peace\n Peace unspeakable, unknown;\n By his pain he gives you ease,\n Life, by his expiring groan;\n Rise, exalted by his fall;\n Find in Christ your all in all.\n\n 3 O believe the record true,\n God to you his Son hath given!\n You may now be happy too;\n Find on earth the life of heaven;\n Live the life of heaven above,\n All the life of glorious love.\n\n\n393 8s & 7s.\n Hear and obey.\n\n Humble souls, who seek salvation\n Through the Lamb's redeeming blood,\n Hear the voice of revelation;\n Tread the path that Jesus trod.\n\n 2 Hear the blest Redeemer call you;\n Listen to his heavenly voice;\n Dread no ills that can befall you,\n While you make his way your choice.\n\n 3 Plainly here his footsteps tracing,\n Follow him without delay,\n Gladly his command embracing;\n Lo! your Captain leads the way.\n\n\n394 8s, 7s & 4.\n Calling on the name of the Lord.\n Acts 22:16.\n\n Gracious Saviour, we adore thee;\n Purchased by thy precious blood\n We present ourselves before thee,\n Now to walk the narrow road:\n Saviour guide us--\n Guide us to our heavenly home.\n\n 2 Thou didst mark our path of duty;\n Thou wast laid beneath the wave;\n Thou didst rise in glorious beauty,\n From the semblance of the grave;\n May we follow\n In the same delightful way.\n\n\n\n\n REMISSION OF SINS.\n\n\n395 L. M.\n The joys of pardon.\n\n Forgiveness! 'tis a joyful sound\n To malefactors doomed to die;\n Publish the bliss the world around;\n You seraphs, shout it from the sky!\n\n 2 'Tis the rich gift of love divine;\n 'Tis full, outmeasuring every crime;\n Unclouded shall its glories shine,\n And feel no change by changing time.\n\n 3 For this stupendous love of heaven,\n What grateful honors shall we show!\n Where much transgression is forgiven,\n Let love in equal ardors glow.\n\n 4 By this inspired, let all our days\n With gospel holiness be crowned;\n Let truth and goodness, prayer and praise\n In all abide, in all abound.\n\n\n396 L. M.\n Blessed is the man whose sin is covered.\n Rom. 4:7.\n\n Earth has a joy unknown in heaven--\n The new-born joy of sins forgiven!\n Tears of such pure and deep delight,\n O angels! never dimmed your sight.\n\n 2 You saw of old on chaos rise\n The beauteous pillars of the skies;\n You know where morn exulting springs,\n And evening folds her drooping wings.\n\n 3 Bright heralds of th' Eternal Will,\n Abroad his errands you fulfill;\n Or, throned in floods of beamy day,\n Symphonies in his presence play.\n\n 4 Loud is the song--the heavenly plain\n Is shaken with the choral strain;\n And dying echoes, floating far,\n Draw music from each chiming star.\n\n 5 But I amid your choirs shall shine,\n And all your knowledge shall be mine;\n You on your harps must lean to hear\n A secret chord that mine shall bear.\n\n\n397 L. M.\n Self-dedication.\n\n Lord, I am thine, entirely thine,\n Purchased alone by blood divine;\n With full consent I yield to thee,\n And own thy sovereign right to me.\n\n 2 Grant me, in mercy, now a place\n Among the children of thy grace;\n A wretched sinner, lost to God,\n But ransomed by Immanuel's blood.\n\n 3 Thee, my new Master, now I call,\n And consecrate to thee my all:\n Lord, let me live and die to thee;\n Be thine through all eternity.\n\n\n398 L. M.\n Happy day.\n\n O happy day, that fixed my choice\n On thee, my Saviour and my God!\n Well may this glowing heart rejoice,\n And tell its raptures all abroad.\n CHORUS.\n Happy day, happy day,\n When Jesus washed my sins away;\n He taught me how to watch and pray,\n And live rejoicing every day.\n\n 2 O happy bond, that seals my vows\n To him who merits all my love!\n Let cheerful anthems fill his house,\n While to that sacred shrine I move.\n\n 3 'Tis done; the great transaction's done;\n I am my Lord's, and he is mine;\n He drew me, and I followed on,\n Charmed to confess the voice divine.\n\n 4 Now rest, my long divided heart!\n Fixed on this blissful center rest;\n Here have I found a nobler part,\n Here heavenly pleasures fill my breast.\n\n 5 High heaven, that heard the solemn vow,\n That vow renewed shall daily hear;\n Till in life's latest hour I bow,\n And bless in death a bond so dear.\n\n\n399 L. M.\n Joy of consecration to Christ.\n\n O sweetly breathe the lyres above,\n When angels touch the quivering string,\n And wake, to chant Immanuel's love,\n Such strains as angel-lips can sing!\n\n 2 And sweet, on earth, the choral swell,\n From mortal tongues, of gladsome lays;\n When pardoned souls their raptures tell,\n And, grateful, hymn Immanuel's praise.\n\n 3 Jesus, thy name our souls adore;\n We own the bond that makes us thine;\n And carnal joys, that charmed before,\n For thy dear sake we now resign.\n\n 4 Our hearts, by dying love subdued,\n Accept thine offered grace to-day;\n Beneath the cross, with blood bedewed,\n We bow, and give ourselves away.\n\n 5 In thee we trust--on thee rely;\n Though we are feeble, thou art strong;\n O, keep us till our spirits fly\n To join the bright, immortal throng!\n\n\n400 L. M. 6 lines.\n The sure refuge.\n\n Now I have found the ground wherein\n Sure my soul's anchor may remain;\n The wounds of Jesus, for my sin,\n Before the world's foundation slain;\n Whose mercy shall unshaken stay,\n When heaven and earth are fled away.\n\n 2 O Love, thou bottomless abyss!\n My sins are swallowed up in thee;\n Covered is my unrighteousness;\n From condemnation now I'm free;\n While Jesus' blood through earth and skies,\n Mercy, free, boundless mercy! cries.\n\n 3 With faith I plunge me in this sea,\n Here is my hope, my joy, my rest;\n Hither, when hell assails, I flee,\n I look into my Saviour's breast.\n Away, sad doubt, and anxious fear!\n Mercy is all that's written here.\n\n 4 Tho' waves and storms go o'er my head,\n Tho' strength, and health, and friends, be gone:\n Tho' joys be withered all, and dead;\n Tho' every comfort be withdrawn--\n Steadfast on this my soul relies:\n Father, thy mercy never dies.\n\n\n401 L. M.\n What shall I render unto thee.\n Psalm 116:12.\n\n Redeemed from guilt, redeemed from fears,\n My soul enlarged, and dried my tears,\n What can I do, O Love Divine,\n What to repay such gifts as thine?\n\n 2 What can I do, so poor, so weak,\n But from thy hands new blessings seek,\n A heart to feel thy mercies more,\n A soul to know thee, and adore?\n\n 3 O teach me at thy feet to fall,\n And yield thee up myself, my all!\n Before thy saints my debts to own,\n And live and die to thee alone!\n\n 4 Thy Spirit, Lord, at large impart,\n Expand, and raise, and fill my heart!\n So may I hope my life shall be\n Some faint return, O Lord, to thee.\n\n\n402 C. M.\n Not as the world giveth.\n John 14:27.\n\n How happy is the Christian's state!\n His sins are all forgiven;\n A cheering ray confirms the grace,\n And lifts his hopes to heaven.\n\n 2 Though in the rugged path of life\n He heaves the pensive sigh;\n Yet, trusting in his God, he finds\n Delivering grace is nigh.\n\n 3 If, to prevent his wandering steps,\n He feels the chastening rod,\n The gentle stroke shall bring him back\n To his forgiving God.\n\n 4 And when the welcome message comes\n To call his soul away,\n His soul in raptures shall ascend\n To everlasting day.\n\n\n403 C. M.\n I was blind, but now I see.\n John 9:25.\n\n Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound!)\n That saved a wretch like me!\n I once was lost, but now am found;\n Was blind, but now I see.\n\n 3 Through many dangers, toils, and snares,\n I have already come;\n 'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,\n And grace will lead me home.\n\n 3 The Lord has promised good to me,\n His word my hope secures;\n He will my shield and portion be\n As long as life endures.\n\n 4 Yes, when this heart and flesh shall fail,\n And mortal life shall cease,\n I shall possess within the vail\n A life of joy and peace.\n\n\n404 C. M.\n Newness of life.\n Rom. 6:4.\n\n How happy every child of grace,\n Who knows his sins forgiven!\n This earth, he cries, is not my place--\n I seek my home in heaven.\n\n 2 A country far from mortal sight,\n Yet O, by faith I see\n The land of rest, the saint's delight,\n The heaven prepared for me.\n\n 3 O what a blessed hope is ours!\n While here on earth we stay,\n We more than taste the heavenly powers,\n And antedate that day.\n\n 4 We feel the resurrection near,\n Our life in Christ concealed,\n And with his glorious presence here,\n Our earthen vessels filled.\n\n 5 O, would he all of heaven bestow!\n Then like our Lord we'll rise;\n Our bodies, fully ransomed, go\n To take the glorious prize.\n\n 6 On him with rapture then I'll gaze,\n Who bought the bliss for me,\n And shout and wonder at his grace,\n Through all eternity.\n\n\n405 S. M.\n By grace are ye saved.\n Eph. 2:8.\n\n Grace! 'tis a charming sound,\n Harmonious to the ear;\n Heaven with the echo shall resound,\n And all the earth shall hear.\n\n 2 Grace first contrived the way\n To save rebellious man;\n And all the steps that grace display,\n Which drew the wondrous plan.\n\n 3 Grace led our wandering feet\n To tread the heavenly road;\n And new supplies each hour we meet,\n While pressing on to God.\n\n 4 Grace all the work shall crown\n Through everlasting days;\n It lays in heaven the topmost stone,\n And well deserves our praise.\n\n\n406 S. M.\n Such knowledge is too wonderful for me.\n Psalm 139:6.\n\n Blest Saviour! Friend divine!\n Thou source of boundless love!\n The hope of all thy saints on earth,\n The joy of all above!\n\n 2 How can I tell thy worth!\n How make thy glories known!\n No language can thy goodness speak,\n No tongue thy mercies own!\n\n 3 My words can not express\n The sweetness of thy name!\n Nor can my feeble lips declare\n The wonders of thy fame!\n\n 4 Then take my trusting heart,\n I can not give thee more;\n Make rich my soul's deep poverty,\n From thine unwasting store!\n\n\n407 8s & 7s, peculiar.\n A new creature.\n 2 Cor. 5:17.\n\n Since first thy word awaked my heart,\n Like light new dawning o'er me,\n Where'er I turn my eyes, thou art\n All light and love before me.\n\n 2 Naught else I feel, or hear, or see,\n All bonds of earth I sever;\n Thee, O my Lord, and only thee,\n I live for, now, and ever.\n\n 3 Like him whose fetters dropped away\n When light shone o'er his prison,\n My soul now touched by mercy's ray,\n Hath from its chains arisen.\n\n 4 And shall the soul thou bidd'st be free,\n Return to bondage? Never;\n Thee, O my God, and only thee,\n I live for, now, and ever.\n\n\n408 P. M.\n Joy unspeakable and full of glory.\n 1 Peter 1:8.\n\n How happy are they who their Saviour obey,\n And have laid up their treasures above!\n Tongue can not express the sweet comfort and peace\n Of a soul in its earliest love!\n\n 2 This comfort is mine, since the favor divine\n I have found in the blood of the Lamb:\n Since the truth I believed what a joy I've received,\n What a heaven in Jesus' blest name!\n\n 3 'Tis a heaven below my Redeemer to know,\n And the angels can do nothing more\n Than to fall at his feet, and the story repeat,\n And the lover of sinners adore!\n\n 4 Jesus all the day long is my joy and my song;\n O that all to this refuge may fly!\n He has loved me, I cried, he has suffered and died\n To redeem such a rebel as I!\n\n 5 On the wings of his love I am carried above\n All my sin, and temptation, and pain;\n O why should I grieve, while on him I believe!\n O why should I sorrow again!\n\n 6 O the rapturous hight of that holy delight,\n Which I find in the life-giving blood!\n Of my Saviour possessed, I am perfectly blessed,\n Being filled with the fullness of God!\n\n 7 Now my remnant of days will I spend to his praise\n Who has died me from sin to redeem;\n Whether many or few, all my years are his due;\n They shall all be devoted to him.\n\n 8 What a mercy is this! what a heaven of bliss!\n How unspeakably happy am I!\n Gathered into the fold, with believers enrolled--\n With believers to live and to die!\n\n\n\n\n SPIRIT OF ADOPTION.\n\n\n409 L. M.\n You hath he quickened.\n Col. 2:13.\n\n Like morning--when her early breeze\n Breaks up the surface of the seas,\n That, in their furrows, dark with night,\n Her hand may sow the seeds of light--\n\n 2 Thy grace can send its breathings o'er\n The spirit dark and lost before;\n And, freshening all its depths, prepare\n For truth divine to enter there.\n\n 3 Till David touched his sacred lyre,\n In silence lay the unbreathing wire;\n But when he swept its chords along,\n Then angels stooped to hear the song.\n\n 4 So sleeps the soul, till thou, O Lord,\n Shall deign to touch its lifeless chord;\n Till, waked by thee, its breath shall rise,\n In music worthy of the skies.\n\n\n410 L. M.\n The gift of the Holy Spirit.\n Acts 2:38.\n\n O Lord! and shall thy Spirit rest\n In such a wretched heart as mine!\n Unworthy dwelling! glorious guest!\n Favor astonishing, divine!\n\n 2 When sin prevails, and gloomy fear,\n And hope almost expires in night,\n Lord, can thy Spirit then be here,\n Great Spring of comfort, life, and light?\n\n 3 Sure the blest Comforter is nigh!\n 'Tis he sustains my fainting heart;\n Else would my hopes for ever die,\n And every cheering ray depart.\n\n 4 When some kind promise glads my soul,\n Do I not find his healing voice\n The tempest of my fears control,\n And bid my drooping powers rejoice!\n\n 5 Let thy kind Spirit in my heart\n For ever dwell, O God of love!\n And light and heavenly peace impart--\n Sweet earnest of the joys above.\n\n\n411 L. M.\n The beatitudes.\n\n Blessed are the humble souls that see\n Their emptiness and poverty;\n Treasures of grace to them are given,\n And crowns of joy laid up in heaven.\n\n 2 Blessed are the men of broken heart,\n Who mourn for sin with inward smart;\n The blood of Christ divinely flows,\n A healing balm for all their woes.\n\n 3 Blessed are the souls who thirst for grace,\n Hunger and thirst for righteousness;\n They shall be well supplied, and fed\n With living streams and living bread.\n\n 4 Blessed are the men of peaceful life,\n Who quench the glowing coals of strife;\n They shall be called the heirs of bliss,\n The sons of God, the God of peace.\n\n 5 Blessed are the sufferers who partake\n Of pain and shame for Jesus' sake;\n Their souls shall triumph in the Lord:\n Glory and joy are their reward.\n\n\n412 L. M.\n In Christ.\n\n God of my life! thy boundless grace,\n Chose, pardoned, and adopted me;\n My rest, my home, my dwelling-place;\n Father! I come, I come to thee.\n\n 2 Jesus, my Hope, my Rock, my Shield!\n Whose precious blood was shed for me,\n Into thy hands my soul I yield;\n Saviour! I come, I come to thee.\n\n\n413 L. M.\n He is not ashamed to call them brethren.\n Heb. 2:11.\n\n Honor and happiness unite\n To make the Christian's name a praise;\n How fair the scene, how clear the light,\n That fills the remnant of his days!\n\n 2 A kingly character he bears,\n No change his priestly office knows;\n Unfading is the crown he wears,\n His joys can never reach a close.\n\n 3 Adorned with glory from on high,\n Salvation shines upon his face;\n His robe is of the ethereal dye,\n His steps are dignity and grace.\n\n 4 Inferior honors he disdains,\n Nor stoops to take applause from earth,\n The King of kings himself maintains\n The expenses of his heavenly birth.\n\n 5 The noblest creature seen below,\n Ordained to fill a throne above;\n God gives him all he can bestow,\n His kingdom of eternal love!\n\n 6 My soul is ravished at the thought!\n Methinks from earth I see him rise!\n Angels congratulate his lot,\n And shout him welcome to the skies!\n\n\n414 C. M.\n Peace in the storm.\n\n Lord, in whose might the Saviour trod\n The dark and stormy wave,\n And trusted in his Father's arm,\n Omnipotent to save;--\n\n 2 When thickly round our footsteps rise\n The floods and storms of life,\n Grant us thy Spirit, Lord, to still\n The dark and fearful strife.\n\n 3 Strong in our trust, on thee reposed,\n The ocean path we'll dare,\n Though waves around us rage and foam,\n Since thou art present there.\n\n\n415 C. M.\n Crying, Abba, Father.\n Gal. 4:6.\n\n Father! I wait before thy throne;\n Call me a child of thine;\n And let the Spirit of thy Son,\n Fill this poor heart of mine.\n\n 2 There shed thy promised love abroad,\n And make my comfort strong;\n Then shall I say, my Father, God!\n With an unwavering tongue.\n\n\n416 C. M.\n We have left all, etc.\n Matt. 19:27.\n\n There is a name I love to hear,\n I love to speak its worth;\n It sounds like music in mine ear,\n The sweetest name on earth.\n\n 2 It tells me of a Saviour's love,\n Who died to set me free;\n It tells me of his precious blood,\n The sinner's perfect plea.\n\n 3 It tells me of a Father's smile,\n Beaming upon his child;\n It cheers me through this \"little while,\"\n Through desert, waste, and wild.\n\n 4 It bids my trembling heart rejoice;\n It dries each rising tear;\n It tells me in \"a still small voice,\"\n To trust and never fear.\n\n 5 Jesus! the name I love so well,\n The name I love to hear!\n No saint on earth its worth can tell,\n No heart conceive how dear.\n\n 6 This name shall shed its fragrance still\n Along this thorny road,\n Shall sweetly smooth the rugged hill\n That leads me up to God.\n\n\n417 C. M.\n The Spirit of God dwelleth within you.\n 1 Cor. 3:16.\n\n Lord, let thy Spirit penetrate\n This heart and soul of mine;\n And my whole being with thy grace\n Pervade, O Life divine!\n\n 2 As this clear air surrounds the earth,\n Thy grace around me roll;\n As the fresh light pervades the air,\n So pierce and fill my soul.\n\n 3 As from these clouds drops down in love\n The precious summer rain,\n So from thyself pour down the flood\n That freshens all again.\n\n 4 As these fair flowers exhale their scent\n In gladness at our feet,\n So from thyself let fragrance breathe,\n More heavenly and more sweet.\n\n 5 Thus life within our lifeless hearts,\n Shall make its glad abode;\n And we shall shine in beauteous light\n Filled with the light of God.\n\n\n418 S. M. D.\n I will write my law in their hearts.\n Heb. 8:10.\n\n Great source of life and light!\n Thy heavenly grace impart,\n Thy Holy Spirit grant, and write\n Thy law upon my heart;\n My soul would cleave to thee;\n Let naught my purpose move;\n O, let my faith more steadfast be,\n And more intense my love!\n\n 2 Long as my trials last,\n Long as the cross I bear,\n O, let my soul on thee be cast\n In confidence and prayer!\n Conduct me to the shore\n Of everlasting peace,\n Where storm and tempest rise no more,\n Where sin and sorrow cease.\n\n\n419 S. M.\n That they may be one in us.\n John 17:21.\n\n Thy Spirit shall unite\n Our souls to thee our Head;\n Shall form us to thine image bright,\n That we thy paths may tread.\n\n 2 Death may our souls divide\n From these abodes of clay;\n But love shall keep us near thy side\n Through all the gloomy way.\n\n 3 Since Christ and we are one,\n Why should we doubt or fear!\n If he in heaven hath fixed his throne,\n He'll fix his members there.\n\n\n420 7s, 6 lines.\n In whom we have redemption.\n Col. 1:14.\n\n Blessed are the sons of God;\n They are bought with Jesus' blood;\n They are ransomed from the grave\n Life eternal they shall have;\n With them numbered may we be,\n Here, and in eternity.\n\n 2 They are justified by grace,\n They enjoy the Saviour's peace;\n All their sins are washed away;\n They shall stand in God's great day:\n With them numbered may we be,\n Here, and in eternity.\n\n 3 They are lights upon the earth--\n Children of a heavenly birth--\n One with God, with Jesus one;\n Glory is in them begun;\n With them numbered may we be,\n Here, and in eternity.\n\n\n421 8s & 7s.\n God, our salvation.\n\n Call Jehovah thy salvation,\n Rest beneath th' Almighty's shade;\n In his secret habitation\n Dwell, and never be dismayed.\n Guile nor violence can harm thee,\n In eternal silence there;\n There no tumult shall alarm thee;\n Thou shalt dread no hidden snare.\n\n 2 Since with pure and firm affection\n Thou on God hast set thy love,\n With the wings of his protection\n He will shield thee from above:\n Thou shalt call on him in trouble;\n He will hearken; he will save;\n Here for grief reward thee double;\n Crown with life beyond the grave.\n\n\n422 8s, 6s & 4s.\n The Holy Spirit the Comforter.\n\n Our blest Redeemer, ere he breathed\n His tender, last farewell,\n A Guide, a Comforter, bequeathed\n With us to dwell.\n\n 2 He came in tongues of living flame,\n To teach, convince, subdue;\n All powerful as the wind he came,\n As viewless too.\n\n 3 He came, sweet influence to impart,\n A gracious, willing guest,\n While he can find one humble heart\n Wherein to rest.\n\n 4 And his that gentle voice we hear,\n Soft as the breeze of even,\n That checks each fault, that calms each fear,\n And speaks of heaven.\n\n\n423 P. M.\n The peace of God.\n Phil. 4:7.\n\n We ask for peace, O Lord!\n Thy children ask thy peace;\n Not what the world calls rest,\n That toil and care should cease,\n That through bright sunny hours\n Calm life should fleet away,\n And tranquil night should fade\n In smiling day--\n It is not for such peace that we would pray.\n\n 2 We ask for peace, O Lord!\n Yet not to stand secure,\n Girt round with iron pride,\n Contented to endure:\n Crushing the gentle strings,\n That human hearts should know,\n Untouched by others' joys\n Or others' woe;\n Thou, O dear Lord, wilt never teach us so.\n\n 3 We ask thy peace, O Lord!\n Through storm, and fear, and strife,\n To light and guide us on,\n Through a long struggling life:\n While no success or gain\n Shall cheer the desperate fight,\n Or nerve, what the world calls,\n Our wasted might:\n Yet pressing through the darkness to the light.\n\n 4 It is thine own, O Lord!\n Who toil while others sleep,\n Who sow with loving care\n What other hands shall reap:\n They lean on thee entranced\n In calm and perfect rest:\n Give us that peace, O Lord!\n Divine and blest,\n Thou keepest for those hearts who love thee best.\n\n\n424 H. M.\n He will give the Holy Spirit, etc.\n Luke 11:13.\n\n O Thou that hearest prayer,\n Attend our humble cry,\n And let thy servants share\n Thy blessings from on high:\n We plead the promise of thy word;\n Grant us thy Holy Spirit, Lord.\n\n 2 If earthly parents hear\n Their children when they cry--\n If they, with love sincere,\n Their varied wants supply--\n Much more wilt thou thy love display,\n And answer when thy children pray.\n\n\n425 C. H. M.\n The world knoweth us not.\n 1 John 3:1.\n\n Let others boast their ancient line,\n In long succession great;\n In the proud list let heroes shine,\n And monarchs swell the state,\n Descended from the King of kings,\n Each saint a nobler title sings.\n\n 2 Pronounce me, gracious God, thy son,\n Own me an heir divine;\n I'll pity princes on the throne,\n When I can call thee mine:\n Scepters and crowns unenvied rise,\n And lose their luster in my eyes.\n\n 3 Content, obscure, I pass my days,\n To all I meet unknown,\n And wait till thou thy child shalt raise,\n And seat me near thy throne:\n No name, no honors here I crave,\n Well pleased with those beyond the grave.\n\n 4 Jesus, my elder brother, lives;\n With him I, too, shall reign;\n Nor sin, nor death, while he survives,\n Shall make the promise vain;\n In him my title stands secure,\n And shall while endless years endure.\n\n 5 When he, in robes divinely bright,\n Shall once again appear,\n Thou, too, my soul, shalt shine in light,\n And his full image bear:\n Enough!--I wait th' appointed day--\n Blessed Saviour, haste, and come away!\n\n\n\n\n THE HOPE OF ETERNAL LIFE.\n\n\n426 L. M.\n Our life is a vapor.\n James 4:14.\n\n How vain is all beneath the skies!\n How transient every earthly bliss!\n How slender all the fondest ties\n That bind us to a world like this!\n\n 2 The evening cloud, the morning dew,\n The withering grass, the fading flower,\n Of earthly hopes are emblems true,\n The glory of a passing hour.\n\n 3 But though earth's fairest blossoms die,\n And all beneath the skies is vain,\n There is a brighter world on high,\n Beyond the reach of care and pain.\n\n 4 Then let the hope of joys to come\n Dispel our cares and chase our fears;\n If God be ours, we're traveling home,\n Though passing through a vale of tears.\n\n\n427 L. M.\n Fight the good fight of faith.\n 1 Tim. 6:12.\n\n Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears,\n And gird the gospel armor on;\n March to the gates of endless joy,\n Where Jesus, the great Captain's gone.\n\n 2 Hell and thy sins resist thy course;\n But hell and sin are vanquished foes;\n Thy Saviour nailed them to the cross,\n And sung the triumph when he rose.\n\n 3 Then let my soul march boldly on,\n Press forward to the heavenly gate;\n There peace and joy eternal reign,\n And glittering robes for conquerors wait.\n\n 4 There shall I wear a starry crown,\n And triumph in almighty grace,\n While all the armies of the skies\n Join in my glorious Leader's praise.\n\n\n428 C. M.\n The land of promise.\n\n There is a land of pure delight,\n Where saints immortal reign,\n Infinite day excludes the night,\n And pleasures banish pain.\n\n 2 There everlasting spring abides,\n And never withering flowers;\n Death, like a narrow sea, divides\n This heavenly land from ours.\n\n 3 Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood,\n Stand dressed in living green;\n So to the Jews old Canaan stood,\n While Jordan rolled between.\n\n 4 But timorous mortals start and shrink\n To cross this narrow sea,\n And linger, shivering on the brink,\n And fear to launch away.\n\n 5 O! could we make our doubts remove,\n Those gloomy doubts that rise,\n And see the Canaan that we love,\n With unbeclouded eyes;\n\n 6 Could we but climb where Moses stood,\n And view the landscape o'er;\n Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood,\n Should fright us from the shore.\n\n\n429 C. M.\n The land that is afar off.\n Isaiah 33:17.\n\n Far from these narrow scenes of night,\n Unbounded glories rise;\n And realms of infinite delight,\n Unknown to mortal eyes.\n\n 2 Celestial land! could our weak eyes\n But half thy charms explore,\n How would our spirits long to rise;\n And dwell on earth no more:\n\n 3 There pain and sickness never come,\n And grief no place obtains;\n Health triumphs in immortal bloom,\n And endless pleasure reigns!\n\n 4 No cloud these blissful regions know,\n For ever bright and fair!\n For sin, the source of every woe,\n Can never enter there.\n\n 5 There no alternate night is known,\n Nor sun's faint sickly ray;\n But glory from the sacred throne\n Spreads everlasting day.\n\n\n430 C. M.\n We all shall meet in heaven.\n\n Hail, sweetest, dearest tie, that binds\n Our glowing hearts in one;\n Hail, sacred hope, that tunes our minds\n To harmony divine.\n It is the hope, the blissful hope,\n Which Jesus' grace has given--\n The hope, when days and years are past,\n We all shall meet in heaven.\n\n 2 What though the northern wintry blast\n Shall howl around our cot;\n What though beneath an eastern sun\n Be cast our distant lot;\n Yet still we share the blissful hope,\n Which Jesus' grace has given--\n The hope, when days and years are past,\n We all shall meet in heaven.\n\n 3 From eastern shores, from northern lands,\n From western hill and plain,\n From southern climes, the brother-bands\n May hope to meet again;\n It is the hope, the blissful hope,\n Which Jesus' grace has given--\n The hope, when life and time are o'er,\n We all shall meet in heaven.\n\n 4 From Burmah's shores, from Afric's strand,\n From India's burning plain,\n From Europe, from Columbia's land,\n We hope to meet again;\n It is the hope, the blissful hope,\n Which Jesus' grace has given--\n The hope, when days and years are past,\n We all shall meet in heaven.\n\n 5 No lingering look, nor parting sigh,\n Our future meeting knows;\n There friendship beams from every eye,\n And love immortal glows.\n O sacred hope! O blissful hope!\n Which Jesus' grace has given--\n The hope, when days and years are past\n We all shall meet in heaven.\n\n\n431 C. M.\n The heavenly Canaan.\n\n On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,\n And cast a wishful eye\n To Canaan's fair and happy land,\n Where my possessions lie.\n\n 2 O the transporting, rapturous scene,\n That rises to my sight!\n Sweet fields arrayed in living green,\n And rivers of delight!\n\n 3 There generous fruits that never fail\n On trees immortal grow;\n There rocks and hills, and brooks and vales,\n With milk and honey flow.\n\n 4 All o'er these wide, extended plains,\n Shines one eternal day;\n There God, the Son, for ever reigns,\n And scatters night away.\n\n 5 No chilling winds nor poisonous breath\n Can reach that healthful shore;\n Sickness and sorrow, pain and death,\n Are felt and feared no more.\n\n 6 When shall I reach that happy place,\n And be for ever blest!\n When shall I see my Father's face,\n And in his bosom rest!\n\n 7 Filled with delight, my raptured soul\n Would here no longer stay;\n Though Jordan's waves around me roll,\n Fearless I'd launch away.\n\n\n432 C. M.\n Hope in trouble.\n\n When musing sorrow weeps the past,\n And mourns the present pain,\n 'Tis sweet to think of peace at last,\n And feel that death is gain.\n\n 2 'Tis not that murmuring thoughts arise,\n And dread a Father's will;\n 'Tis not that meek submission flies,\n And would not suffer still.\n\n 3 It is that heaven-born faith surveys\n The path that leads to light,\n And longs her eagle plumes to raise,\n And lose herself in sight.\n\n 4 It is that troubled conscience feels\n The pangs of struggling sin,\n And sees, though far, the hand that heals,\n And ends the strife within.\n\n 5 O, let me wing my hallowed flight\n From earth-born woe and care,\n And soar above these clouds of night,\n My Saviour's bliss to share.\n\n\n433 C. M.\n Light in darkness.\n\n O there's a better world on high;\n Hope on, thou pious breast;\n Faint not, thou traveler; on the sky\n Thy weary feet shall rest.\n\n 2 Anguish may rend each vital part;\n Poor man, thy strength how frail!\n Yet heaven's own strength shall shield thy heart,\n When flesh and heart shall fail.\n\n 3 Through death's dark vale, of deepest shade,\n Thy feet must surely go;\n Yet there, e'en there, walk undismayed;\n 'Tis thy last scene of woe.\n\n 4 Thy God--and with the tenderest hand--\n Shall guard the traveler through;\n \"Hail!\" shalt thou cry: \"hail! promised land!\n And, wilderness, adieu!\"\n\n 5 O Father, make our souls thy care,\n And bring us safe to thee;\n Where'er thou art--we ask not where--\n But there 'tis heaven to be.\n\n\n434 C. M.\n Abiding in hope.\n\n Since I can read my title clear\n To mansions in the skies,\n I bid farewell to every fear,\n And wipe my weeping eyes.\n\n 2 Should earth against my soul engage,\n And fiery darts be hurled,\n Then I would smile at Satan's rage,\n And face a frowning world.\n\n 3 Let cares, like a wild deluge, come,\n And storms of sorrow fall,\n May I but safely reach my home,\n My God, my heaven, my all.\n\n 4 There shall I bathe my weary soul\n In seas of heavenly rest;\n And not a wave of trouble roll\n Across my peaceful breast.\n\n\n435 C. M.\n God our only hope.\n\n When reft of all, and hopeless care\n Would sink us to the tomb,\n What power shall save us from despair,\n What dissipate the gloom?\n\n 2 No balm that earthly plants distill\n Can soothe the mourner's smart,\n No mortal hand, with lenient skill,\n Bind up the broken heart.\n\n 3 But One alone, who reigns above,\n Our woe to joy can turn,\n And light the lamp of life and love,\n That long has ceased to burn.\n\n 4 Then, O my soul! to that One flee,\n To God thy woes reveal;\n His eye alone thy wounds can see,\n His power alone can heal.\n\n\n436 C. M.\n Hope thou in God.\n Psalm 42:5.\n\n My soul! triumphant in the Lord,\n Proclaim thy joys abroad,\n And march with holy vigor on,\n Supported by thy God.\n\n 2 Through every winding maze of life,\n His hand has been my guide;\n And in his long-experienced care,\n My heart shall still confide.\n\n 3 His grace through all the desert flows,\n An unexhausted stream;\n That grace, on Zion's sacred mount,\n Shall be my endless theme.\n\n 4 Beyond the choicest joys of time,\n Thy courts on earth I love;\n But O! I burn with strong desire\n To view thy house above.\n\n 5 There, joined with all the shining band,\n My soul would thee adore;\n A pillar in thy temple fixed,\n To be removed no more.\n\n\n437 8s & 4s.\n Vain world, adieu.\n\n When for eternal worlds we steer,\n And seas are calm, and skies are clear,\n And faith, in lively exercise,\n Sees distant fields of Canaan rise,\n The soul for joy then spreads her wings,\n And loud her lovely sonnet sings,\n Vain world, adieu.\n\n 2 With cheerful hope, her eyes explore\n Each land-mark on the distant shore,\n The trees of life, the pastures green,\n The golden streets, the crystal stream;\n Again for joy she spreads her wings,\n And loud her lovely sonnet sings,\n I'm going home.\n\n 3 The nearer still she draws to land,\n More eager all her powers expand;\n With steady helm, and free bent sail,\n Her anchor drops within the vail;\n And now for joy she folds her wings,\n And her celestial sonnet sings,\n I'm safe at home.\n\n\n438 C. M.\n Hope maketh not ashamed.\n Rom. 5:5.\n\n The world may change from old to new,\n From new to old again;\n Yet hope and heaven, for ever true,\n Within our hearts remain.\n\n 2 Hope leads the child to plant the flower,\n The man to sow the seed;\n Nor leaves fulfillment to her hour--\n But prompts again to deed.\n\n 3 And ere upon the old man's dust\n The grass is seen to wave,\n We look through falling tears, to trust\n Hope's sunshine on the grave.\n\n 4 O, no, it is no flattering lure,\n No fancy weak or fond,\n When hope would bid us rest secure\n In better life beyond.\n\n 5 Nor love, nor shame, nor grief, nor tears,\n Her promise may gainsay;\n The voice divine speaks through our years,\n To cheer us on our way.\n\n\n439 P. M.\n The Rock of Salvation.\n\n If life's pleasures charm you, give them not your heart,\n Lest the gift ensnare you from your God to part;\n His favor seek, his praises speak;\n Fix here your hope's foundation;\n Serve him, and he will ever be\n The Rock of your Salvation.\n\n 2 If distress befall you, painful though it be,\n Let not grief appall you--to your Saviour flee;\n He ever near, your prayer will hear,\n And calm your perturbation;\n The waves of woe shall ne'er o'erflow\n The Rock of your Salvation.\n\n 3 When earth's prospects fail you, let it not distress,\n Better comforts wait you--Christ will surely bless;\n To Jesus flee--your prop he'll be,\n Your heavenly consolation;\n For griefs below can not o'erthrow\n The Rock of your Salvation.\n\n 4 Dangers may approach you; let them not alarm;\n Christ will ever watch you, and protect from harm,\n He near you stands, with mighty hands\n To ward off each temptation;\n To Jesus fly; he's ever nigh,\n The Rock of your Salvation.\n\n 5 Let not death alarm you, shrink not from his blow;\n For your God shall arm you, and victory bestow,\n For death shall bring to you no sting,\n The grave no desolation:\n 'Tis sweet to die with Jesus nigh,\n The Rock of your Salvation.\n\n\n440 6s & 4s.\n Jesus is mine.\n\n Now I have found a friend,\n Jesus is mine;\n His love shall never end,\n Jesus is mine.\n Though earthly joys decrease;\n Though human friendships cease,\n Now I have lasting peace;\n Jesus is mine.\n\n 2 Though I grow poor and old,\n Jesus is mine;\n He will my faith uphold,\n Jesus is mine;\n He shall my wants supply,\n His precious blood is nigh,\n Nought can my hope destroy,\n Jesus is mine!\n\n 3 When earth shall pass away,\n Jesus is mine.\n In the great Judgment day,\n Jesus is mine.\n O! what a glorious thing\n Then to behold my King,\n On tuneful harp to sing,\n Jesus is mine.\n\n 4 Farewell mortality!\n Jesus is mine.\n Welcome eternity!\n Jesus is mine,\n He my Redemption is,\n Wisdom and Righteousness,\n Life, Light and Holiness,\n Jesus is mine.\n\n\n\n\n THE CHURCH--DIVINE CONSTITUTION.\n\n\n441 L. M.\n God is the midst of her.\n Psalm 46:5.\n\n Happy the church, thou sacred place,\n The seat of thy Creator's grace!\n Thine holy courts are his abode,\n Thou earthly palace of our God!\n\n 2 Thy walls are strength, and at thy gates\n A guard of heavenly warriors waits;\n Nor shall thy deep foundations move,\n Fixed on his counsels and his love.\n\n 3 Thy foes in vain designs engage;\n Against his throne in vain they rage:\n Like rising waves, with angry roar,\n That dash and die upon the shore.\n\n 4 God is our shield, and God our sun;\n Swift as the fleeting moments run,\n On us he sheds new beams of grace,\n And we reflect his brightest praise.\n\n\n442 L. M.\n God is our refuge.\n Psalm 46:1.\n\n God is the refuge of his saints,\n When storms of sharp distress invade;\n Ere we can offer our complaints,\n Behold him present with his aid.\n\n 2 Let mountains from their seats be hurled\n Down to the deep, and buried there;\n Convulsions shake the solid world;\n Our faith shall never yield to fear.\n\n 3 Zion enjoys her monarch's love,\n Secure against a threatening hour;\n Nor can her firm foundations move,\n Built on his truth, and armed with power.\n\n\n443 C. M.\n A kingdom which can not be moved.\n Heb. 12:28.\n\n Thy kingdom, Lord, for ever stands,\n While earthly thrones decay;\n And time submits to thy commands,\n While ages roll away.\n\n 2 Thy sovereign bounty freely gives\n Its unexhausted store;\n And universal nature lives\n On thy sustaining power.\n\n 3 Holy and just in all thy ways,\n Thy providence divine;\n In all thy works, immortal rays\n Of power and mercy shine.\n\n 4 The praise of God--delightful theme!\n Shall fill my heart and tongue;\n Let all creation bless his name,\n In one eternal song.\n\n\n444 C. M.\n A sure foundation.\n Isaiah 28:16.\n\n Behold the sure foundation-stone,\n Which God in Zion lays,\n To build our heavenly hopes upon,\n And his eternal praise!\n\n 2 Chosen of God, to sinners dear,\n And saints adore the name;\n They trust their whole salvation here,\n Nor shall they suffer shame.\n\n 3 The foolish builders, scribe, and priest,\n Reject it with disdain;\n Yet on this rock the church shall rest,\n And envy rage in vain.\n\n 4 What though the gates of hell withstood,\n Yet must this building rise:\n 'Tis thy own work, almighty God,\n And wondrous in our eyes.\n\n\n445 C. M.\n Let us go into the house of the Lord.\n Psalm 122:1.\n\n How did my heart rejoice to hear\n My friends devoutly say,\n \"In Zion let us all appear,\n And keep the solemn day.\"\n\n 2 I love her gates, I love the road:\n The church, adorned with grace,\n Stands like a palace, built for God,\n To show his milder face.\n\n 3 Up to her courts, with joys unknown,\n The holy tribes repair;\n The Son of David holds his throne,\n And sits in judgment there.\n\n 4 He hears our praises and complaints;\n And while his awful voice\n Divides the sinners from the saints,\n We tremble and rejoice.\n\n 5 Peace be within this sacred place,\n And joy a constant guest!\n With holy gifts and heavenly grace,\n Be her attendants blest!\n\n 6 My soul shall pray for Zion still,\n While life or breath remains;\n There my best friends, my kindred, dwell,\n There God, my Saviour reigns.\n\n\n446 C. M.\n Yet will I not forget thee.\n Isaiah 49:15.\n\n A mother may forgetful be,\n For human love is frail;\n But thy Creator's love to thee,\n O Zion! can not fail.\n\n 2 No! thy dear name engraven stands,\n In characters of love,\n On thy almighty Father's hands,\n And never shall remove.\n\n 3 Before his ever watchful eye\n Thy mournful state appears;\n And every groan, and every sigh,\n Divine compassion hears.\n\n 4 O Zion! learn to doubt no more,\n Be every fear suppressed;\n Unchanging truth, and love, and power,\n Dwell in thy Saviour's breast.\n\n\n447 C. M.\n The Lord is my light and my salvation.\n Psalm 27:1.\n\n The Lord of glory is my light,\n And my salvation too;\n God is my strength, nor will I fear\n What all my foes can do.\n\n 2 One blessing, Lord, my heart desires;\n O, grant me my abode\n Among the churches of thy saints,\n The temples of my God.\n\n 3 There shall I offer my requests,\n And see thy glory still;\n Shall hear thy messages of love,\n And learn thy holy will.\n\n 4 When troubles rise, and storms appear,\n There may his children hide;\n God has a strong pavilion, where\n He makes my soul abide.\n\n 5 Now shall my head be lifted high\n Above my foes around,\n And songs of joy and victory\n Within thy temple sound.\n\n\n448 C. M.\n Fear not, little flock.\n Luke 12:32.\n\n There is a little, lonely fold,\n Whose flock one Shepherd keeps,\n Through summer's heat and winter's cold,\n With eye that never sleeps.\n\n 2 By evil beast, or burning sky,\n Or damp of midnight air,\n Not one in all that flock shall die\n Beneath that Shepherd's care.\n\n 3 For if, unheeding or beguiled,\n In danger's path they roam,\n His pity follows through the wild,\n And guards them safely home.\n\n 4 O, gentle Shepherd, still behold\n Thy helpless charge in me;\n And take a wanderer to thy fold,\n That, trembling, turns to thee.\n\n\n449 C. M.\n You are come unto Mount Zion.\n Heb. 12:22.\n\n Not to the terrors of the Lord,\n The tempest, fire, and smoke--\n Not to the thunder of that word\n Which God on Sinai spoke;--\n\n 2 But we are come to Zion hill,\n The city of our God,\n Where milder words declare his will,\n And spread his love abroad.\n\n 3 Behold the great, the glorious host\n Of angels clothed in light!\n Behold the spirits of the just,\n Whose faith is turned to sight!\n\n 4 Behold the blest assembly there,\n Whose names are writ in heaven!\n And God, the Judge, who doth declare\n Their vilest sins forgiven!\n\n 5 Saints here, and those in Jesus dead,\n But one communion make;\n All join in Christ, their living head,\n And of his grace partake.\n\n 6 In such society as this\n My weary soul would rest;\n The man that dwells where Jesus is\n Must be for ever blessed.\n\n\n450 C. M.\n Rev. 1:20.\n\n Our Christ hath reached his heavenly seat,\n Through sorrows and through scars;\n The golden lamps are at his feet,\n And in his hand the stars.\n\n 2 O God of life, and truth, and grace,\n Ere nature was begun!\n Make welcome to our erring race\n Thy Spirit and thy Son.\n\n 3 We hail the Church, built high o'er all\n The heathens' rage and scoff;\n Thy providence its fenced wall,\n \"The Lamb the light thereof.\"\n\n 4 O, may he walk among us here,\n With his rebuke and love--\n A brightness o'er this lower sphere,\n A ray from worlds above!\n\n\n451 C. M.\n His kingdom is everlasting.\n Danl. 7:27.\n\n O where are kings and empires now,\n Of old that went and came?\n But holy Church is praying yet,\n A thousand years the same.\n\n 2 Mark ye her holy battlements,\n And her foundations strong:\n And hear within, the solemn voice,\n And her unending song.\n\n 3 For not like kingdoms of the world,\n The Holy Church of God!\n Though earthquake shocks are rocking her,\n And tempests are abroad;\n\n 4 Unshaken as eternal hills,\n Unmovable she stands--\n A mountain that shall fill the earth,\n A fane unbuilt by hands.\n\n\n452 S. M.\n The Lord is great in Zion.\n Psalm 99:2.\n\n Great is the Lord our God,\n And let his praise be great;\n He makes his churches his abode,\n His most delightful seat.\n\n 2 These temples of his grace,\n How beautiful they stand!\n The honors of our native place,\n And bulwarks of our land.\n\n 3 In Zion God is known,\n A refuge in distress;\n How bright has his salvation shone,\n Through all her palaces!\n\n 4 When kings against her joined,\n And saw the Lord was there,\n In wild confusion of the mind,\n They fled with hasty fear.\n\n 5 Oft have our fathers told,\n Our eyes have often seen,\n How well our God secures the fold\n Where his own sheep have been.\n\n 6 In every new distress\n We'll to his house repair;\n We'll call to mind his wondrous grace,\n And seek deliverance there.\n\n\n453 S. M.\n I love thy kingdom, Lord.\n\n I Love thy kingdom, Lord--\n The house of thine abode,\n The church our blest Redeemer saved\n With his own precious blood.\n\n 2 I love thy Church, O God!\n Her walls before thee stand,\n Dear as the apple of thine eye,\n And graven on thy hand.\n\n 3 For her my tears shall fall,\n For her my prayers ascend;\n To her my cares and toils be given,\n Till toils and cares shall end.\n\n 4 Beyond my highest joy\n I prize her heavenly ways,\n Her sweet communion, solemn vows,\n Her hymns of love and praise.\n\n 5 Jesus, thou Friend divine,\n Our Saviour and our King,\n Thy hand from every snare and foe\n Shall great deliverance bring.\n\n 6 Sure as thy truth shall last,\n To Zion shall be given\n The brightest glories earth can yield,\n And brighter bliss of heaven.\n\n\n454 S. M.\n How amiable are thy tabernacles.\n Psalm 84:1.\n\n How charming is the place\n Where my Redeemer God\n Unvails the beauties of his face,\n And sheds his love abroad!\n\n 2 Not the fair palaces\n To which the great resort,\n Are once to be compared with this,\n Where Jesus holds his court.\n\n 3 Here on the mercy-seat,\n With radiant glory crowned,\n Our joyful eyes behold him sit,\n And smile on all around.\n\n 4 To him their prayers and cries\n Each humble soul presents;\n He listens to their broken sighs,\n And grants them all their wants.\n\n 5 Give me, O Lord, a place\n Within thy blessed abode,\n Among the children of thy grace,\n The servants of my God.\n\n\n455 S. M.\n It shall stand for ever.\n Dan. 2:44.\n\n Thy kingdom, gracious Lord,\n Shall never pass away;\n Firm as thy truth it still shall stand,\n When earthly thrones decay.\n\n 2 Thy people here have found,\n Through many weary years,\n The sweet communion, joy and peace,\n To banish all their fears.\n\n 3 And now while in thy courts,\n Do thou our love increase;\n Give us the food our spirits need,\n And fill our hearts with peace.\n\n\n456 S. M.\n The ark of God.\n\n Like Noah's weary dove,\n That soared the earth around,\n But not a resting-place above\n The cheerless waters found;\n\n 2 O cease, my wandering soul,\n On restless wing to roam;\n All the wide world, to either pole,\n Has not for thee a home.\n\n 3 Behold the ark of God,\n Behold the open door;\n Hasten to gain that dear abode,\n And rove, my soul, no more.\n\n 4 There safe thou shalt abide,\n There sweet shall be thy rest,\n And every longing satisfied,\n With full salvation blest.\n\n 5 And when the waves of ire,\n Again the earth shall fill,\n The ark shall ride the sea of fire;\n Then rest on Zion's hill.\n\n\n457 S. M.\n The Lord loveth the gates of Zion.\n Psalm 87:2.\n\n How honored is the place,\n Where we adoring stand!\n Zion, the glory of the earth,\n And beauty of the land.\n\n 2 Bulwarks of grace defend\n The city where we dwell;\n While walls of strong salvation made,\n Defy th' assaults of hell.\n\n 3 Lift up th' eternal gates,\n The doors wide open fling;\n Enter, ye nations, that obey\n The statutes of our King.\n\n 4 Here taste unmingled joys,\n And live in perfect peace;\n You that have known Jehovah's name,\n And ventured on his grace.\n\n 5 Trust in the Lord, ye saints;\n And banish all your fears,\n Strength in the Lord Jehovah dwells,\n Eternal as his years.\n\n\n458 S. M.\n The joy of the whole earth.\n Psalm 48:2.\n\n Far as thy name is known\n The world declares thy praise;\n The saints, O Lord, before thy throne\n Their songs of honor raise.\n\n 2 With joy, thy people stand\n On Zion's chosen hill,\n Proclaim the wonders of thy hand,\n And counsels of thy will.\n\n 3 Let strangers walk around\n The city where we dwell,\n Compass and view thy holy ground,\n And mark the building well.\n\n 4 How comely and how wise!\n How glorious to behold!\n Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes,\n And rites adorned with gold.\n\n 5 The God we worship now\n Will guide us till we die;\n Will be our God while here below,\n And ours above the sky.\n\n\n459 S. M.\n The church in the wilderness.\n\n Far down the ages now,\n Much of her journey done,\n The pilgrim church pursues her way,\n Until her crown be won.\n\n 2 The story of the past\n Comes up before her view:\n How well it seems to suit her still--\n Old, and yet ever new!\n\n 3 It is the oft-told tale\n Of sin and weariness--\n Of grace and love yet flowing down\n To pardon and to bless.\n\n 4 No wider is the gate,\n No broader is the way,\n No smoother is the ancient path,\n That leads to life and day.\n\n 5 No sweeter is the cup,\n Nor less our lot of ill:\n 'Twas tribulation ages since,\n 'Tis tribulation still.\n\n 6 No slacker grows the fight,\n No feebler is the foe,\n Nor less the need of armor tried,\n Of shield, and spear, and bow.\n\n 7 Thus onward still we press,\n Through evil and through good--\n Through pain, and poverty, and want,\n Through peril and through blood.\n\n 8 Still faithful to our God,\n And to our Captain true,\n We follow where he leads the way,\n The kingdom in our view.\n\n\n460 8s & 7s.\n Glorious things are spoken of thee.\n Psalm 87:3.\n\n Glorious things of thee are spoken,\n Zion, city of our God!\n He, whose word can not be broken,\n Formed thee for his own abode:\n On the Rock of ages founded,\n What can shake thy sure repose?\n With salvation's wall surrounded,\n Thou mayst smile at all thy foes.\n\n 2 See the streams of living waters,\n Springing from Eternal Love,\n Well supply thy sons and daughters,\n And all fear of drought remove:\n Who can faint while such a river\n Ever flows their thirst t' assuage!\n Grace, which like the Lord, the giver,\n Never fails from age to age.\n\n 3 Round each habitation hovering,\n See the cloud and fire appear,\n For a glory and a covering,\n Showing that the Lord is near:\n Thus deriving from their banner\n Light by night, and shade by day,\n Safe they feed upon the manna\n Which he gives them when they pray.\n\n 4 Blest inhabitants of Zion,\n Washed in the Redeemer's blood,\n Jesus, whom their souls rely on,\n Makes them kings and priests to God:\n 'Tis his love his people raises\n With himself to reign as kings;\n And, as priests, his solemn praises\n Each for a thank-offering brings.\n\n 5 Saviour, since of Zion's city,\n I through grace a member am,\n Let the world deride or pity,\n I will glory in thy name:\n Fading is the worldling's treasure,\n All his boasted pomp and show!\n Solid joys and lasting pleasure\n None but Zion's children know.\n\n\n461 10s.\n When the Lord shall bring again Zion.\n Isaiah 52:8.\n\n Restore, O Father! to our times restore\n The peace which filled thine infant Church of yore,\n Ere lust of power had sown the seeds of strife,\n And quenched the new-born charities of life.\n\n 2 O, never more may different judgments part\n From kindled sympathy a brother's heart!\n But, linked in one, believing thousands kneel,\n And share with each the sacred joy they feel.\n\n 3 From soul to soul, quick as the sunbeam's ray,\n Let concord spread one universal day;\n And faith by love lead all mankind to thee,\n Parent of peace, and Fount of harmony!\n\n\n462 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Living waters.\n\n See, from Zion's sacred mountain,\n Streams of living water flow;\n God has opened there a fountain\n That supplies the world below;\n They are blessed\n Who its sovereign virtues know.\n\n 2 Through ten thousand channels flowing,\n Streams of mercy find their way:\n Life, and health, and joy bestowing,\n Waking beauty from decay.\n O, ye nations,\n Hail the long-expected day.\n\n 3 Gladdened by the flowing treasure,\n All-enriching as it goes,\n Lo! the desert smiles with pleasure,\n Buds and blossoms as the rose;\n Lo! the desert\n Sings for joy where'er it flows.\n\n\n463 12s.\n The house of the Lord.\n\n You may sing of the beauty of mountain and dale,\n Of the silvery streamlets and flowers of the vale;\n But the place most delightful this earth can afford,\n Is the place of devotion, the house of the Lord.\n\n 2 You may boast of the sweetness of day's early dawn,\n Of the sky's softening graces when day is just gone;\n But there's no other season or time can compare,\n With the hour of devotion, the season of prayer.\n\n 3 You may value the friendships of youth and of age,\n And select for your comrades the noble and sage;\n But the friends that most cheer me on life's rugged road,\n Are the friends of my Master, the children of God.\n\n 4 You may talk of your prospects, of fame, or of wealth,\n And the hopes that oft flatter the favorites of health;\n But the hope of bright glory, of heavenly bliss--\n Take away every other, and give me but this.\n\n 5 Ever hail, blessed temple, abode of my Lord!\n I will turn to thee often, to hear from his word;\n I will walk to thine altar with those that I love,\n And rejoice in the prospects revealed from above.\n\n\n464 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Mount Zion, etc.\n Psalm 125:1.\n\n Zion stands with hills surrounded--\n Zion kept by power divine;\n All her foes shall be confounded,\n Though the world in arms combine:\n Happy Zion,\n What a favored lot is thine.\n\n 2 Every human tie may perish;\n Friend to friend unfaithful prove;\n Mothers cease their own to cherish;\n Heaven and earth at last remove;\n But no changes\n Can attend Jehovah's love.\n\n 3 In the furnace God may prove thee,\n Thence to bring thee forth more bright,\n But can never cease to love thee;\n Thou art precious in his sight:\n God is with thee--\n God, thine everlasting light.\n\n\n\n\n OFFICERS.\n\n\n465 L. M.\n Go ye into all the world.\n Mark 16:15.\n\n Ye Christian heralds! go, proclaim\n Salvation through Immanuel's name;\n To distant climes the tidings bear,\n And plant the rose of Sharon there.\n\n 2 He'll shield you with a wall of a fire,\n With holy zeal your hearts inspire,\n Bid raging winds their fury cease,\n And hush the tempest into peace.\n\n 3 And when our labors all are o'er,\n Then we shall meet to part no more--\n Meet with the blood-bought throng, to fall,\n And crown our Jesus--Lord of all!\n\n\n466 L. M.\n Go, teach all nations.\n Matt. 28:19.\n\n Go--messenger of peace and love!\n To nations plunged in shades of night;\n Like angels sent from fields above,\n Be thine to shed celestial light.\n\n 2 Go--to the hungry food impart;\n To paths of peace the wanderer guide,\n And lead the thirsty, panting heart,\n Where streams of living water glide.\n\n 3 Go--bid the bright and morning-star\n From Bethlehem's plains resplendent shine,\n And, piercing through the gloom afar,\n Shed heavenly light and love divine.\n\n 4 From north to south, from east to west,\n Messiah yet shall reign supreme;\n His name by every tongue confessed--\n His praise--the universal theme.\n\n\n467 L. M.\n Pray for us.\n 2 Thess. 3:1.\n\n Father of mercies, bow thine ear,\n Attentive to our earnest prayer:\n We plead for those who plead for thee;\n Successful pleaders may they be.\n\n 2 How great their work! how vast their charge!\n Do thou their anxious souls enlarge:\n Their best endowments are our gain;\n We share the blessings they obtain.\n\n 3 O, clothe with energy divine\n Their words; and let those words be thine;\n To them thy sacred truth reveal;\n Suppress their fears, inflame their zeal.\n\n 4 Teach them to sow the precious seed;\n Teach them thy chosen flock to feed;\n Teach them immortal souls to gain--\n And thus reward their toil and pain.\n\n 5 Let thronging multitudes around,\n Hear from their lips the joyful sound,\n In humble strains thy grace implore,\n And feel thy Spirit's living power.\n\n\n468 C. M.\n Ordination of elders or deacons.\n\n Vouchsafe, O Lord, thy presence now,\n Direct us in thy fear;\n Before thy throne we humbly bow,\n And offer fervent prayer.\n\n 2 Give us the men whom thou shalt choose,\n Thy house on earth to guide;\n Those who shall ne'er their power abuse,\n Or rule with haughty pride.\n\n 3 Inspired with wisdom from above,\n And with discretion blessed;\n Displaying meekness, temperance, love--\n Of every grace possessed;\n\n 4 These are the men we seek of thee,\n O God of righteousness:\n Such may thy servants ever be,\n With such thy people bless.\n\n\n469 C. M.\n Ordination.\n\n With joy we own thy servant, Lord,\n Thy minister below,\n Ordained to spread thy truth abroad,\n That all thy name may know.\n\n 2 O may he now, and ever, keep\n His eye intent on thee:\n Do thou, great Shepherd of the sheep,\n His bright example be.\n\n 3 With plenteous grace his heart prepare\n To execute thy will;\n And give him patience, love, and care,\n And faithfulness and skill.\n\n 4 Inflame his mind with ardent zeal,\n Thy flock to feed and teach;\n And let him live, and let him feel,\n The truths he's called to preach.\n\n 5 As showers refresh the thirsty plain,\n So let his labors prove:\n By him extend thy righteous reign--\n The reign of truth and love.\n\n\n470 S. M.\n On the departure of a missionary.\n\n You messengers of Christ,\n His sovereign voice obey;\n Arise and follow where he leads--\n And peace attend your way.\n\n 2 The master whom you serve\n Will needful strength bestow;\n Depending on his promised aid,\n With sacred courage go.\n\n 3 Mountains shall sink to plains,\n And hell in vain oppose;\n The cause is God's, and must prevail\n In spite of all his foes.\n\n 4 Go, spread a Saviour's fame,\n And tell his matchless grace,\n To the most guilty and depraved\n Of Adam's numerous race.\n\n 5 We wish you, in his name,\n The most divine success;\n Assured that he who sends you forth\n Will your endeavors bless.\n\n\n471 S. M.\n The same.\n\n Go with thy servant, Lord,\n His every step attend;\n All needful help to him afford,\n And bless him to the end.\n\n 2 Preserve him from all wrong;\n Stand thou at his right hand:\n And keep him from the slanderous tongue\n And persecuting band.\n\n 3 May he proclaim aloud\n The wonders of thy grace;\n And do thou, to the listening crowd,\n His faithful labors bless.\n\n 4 Farewell, dear laborer, go;\n We part with thee in love;\n And if we meet no more below,\n O may we meet above.\n\n\n472 S. M.\n Be ye therefore ready also.\n Luke 12:40.\n\n Ye servants of the Lord,\n Each in his office wait;\n With joy obey his heavenly word,\n And watch before his gate.\n\n 2 Let all your lamps be bright,\n And trim the golden flame;\n Gird up your loins, as in his sight;\n For awful is his name.\n\n 3 Watch! 'tis the Lord's command;\n And while we speak, he's near;\n Mark the first signal of his hand,\n And ready all appear.\n\n 4 O happy servant he,\n In such a posture found!\n He shall his Lord with rapture see,\n And be with honor crowned.\n\n\n473 S. M. D.\n Math. 9:38.\n\n Lord of the harvest! hear\n Thy needy servants' cry;\n Answer our faith's effectual prayer,\n And all our wants supply.\n On thee we humbly wait;\n Our wants are in thy view;\n The harvest truly, Lord! is great,\n The laborers are few.\n\n 2 Convert and send forth more\n Into thy Church abroad;\n And let them speak thy word of power,\n As workers with their God.\n Give the pure gospel-word,\n The word of general grace;\n Thee let them preach, the common Lord,\n The Saviour of our race.\n\n 3 O, let them spread thy name;\n Their mission fully prove;\n Thy universal grace proclaim,\n Thy all-redeeming love.\n On all mankind, forgiven,\n Empower them still to call,\n And tell each creature under heaven,\n That thou hast died for all.\n\n\n474 5s & 6s.\n Preach the word.\n 2 Tim. 4:2.\n\n You servants of God,\n Your Master proclaim,\n And publish abroad\n His wonderful name:\n The name all victorious\n Of Jesus extol;\n His kingdom is glorious,\n And rules over all.\n\n 2 Christ ruleth on high,\n Almighty to save:\n And still he is nigh--\n His presence we have:\n The great congregation\n His triumph shall sing,\n Ascribing salvation\n To Jesus our King.\n\n 3 Salvation to him,\n Who sits on the throne--\n Let all cry aloud,\n And honor the Son;\n Our Saviour's praises\n The angels proclaim,\n They fall on their faces\n And worship the Lamb.\n\n 4 Him let us adore,\n And give him his right;\n All glory and power,\n And wisdom and might;\n All honor and blessing\n With angels above,\n And thanks never ceasing,\n For infinite love.\n\n\n475 7s.\n Prayer for deacons.\n\n Son of God, our glorious Head!\n On us now thy blessing shed;\n From thy throne let mercy flow\n To thy waiting flock below.\n\n 2 Taught by thee, with prayer sincere,\n We have called thy servants here,\n For thy needy ones to care,\n And thy holy feast to bear.\n\n 3 May the Spirit from above\n Fill their hearts with faith and love;\n Make them humble, zealous, wise,\n Strife to shun, and good devise.\n\n 4 When their earthly work is done,\n When the crown of life is won,\n May they, with thy favor blest,\n Pass from labor into rest.\n\n\n476 7s & 6s.\n The fields are white already to harvest.\n John 4:35.\n\n Ho, reapers of life's harvest,\n Why stand with rusted blade,\n Until the night draws round thee,\n And day begins to fade?\n Why stand ye idle, waiting\n For reapers more to come?\n The golden morn is passing,\n Why sit ye idle, dumb?\n\n 2 Thrust in your sharpened sickle,\n And gather in the grain:\n The night is fast approaching,\n And soon will come again.\n Thy Master calls for reapers;\n And shall he call in vain?\n Shall sheaves lie there ungathered,\n And waste upon the plain?\n\n 3 Come down from hill and mountain,\n In morning's ruddy glow,\n Nor wait until the dial\n Points to the noon below;\n And come with the strong sinew,\n Nor faint in heat or cold;\n And pause not till the evening\n Draws round its wealth of gold.\n\n 4 Mount up the hights of wisdom,\n And crush each error low;\n Keep back no words of knowledge\n That human hearts should know;\n Be faithful to thy mission\n In service of thy Lord;\n And then a golden chaplet\n Shall be thy just reward.\n\n\n\n\n LOVE, UNITY AND FELLOWSHIP.\n\n\n477 L. M.\n Christian fellowship.\n\n Kindred in Christ, for his dear sake\n A hearty welcome here receive;\n May we together now partake\n The joys which only he can give.\n\n 2 May he, by whose kind care we meet,\n Send his good spirit from above;\n Make our communications sweet,\n And cause our hearts to burn with love.\n\n 3 Forgotten be each worldly theme,\n When Christians meet together thus;\n We only wish to speak of him\n Who lived, and died, and reigns for us.\n\n 4 We'll talk of all he did, and said,\n And suffered for us here below;\n The path he marked for us to tread,\n And what he's doing for us now.\n\n 5 Thus--as the moments pass away--\n We'll love, and wonder, and adore;\n And hasten on the glorious day\n When we shall meet to part no more.\n\n\n478 L. M.\n Come in, thou blessed of the Lord.\n Gen. 24:31.\n\n Come in, thou blessed of our God,\n In Jesus' name we bid thee come;\n No more thy feet shall roam abroad,\n Henceforth a brother--welcome home.\n\n 2 Those joys which earth can not afford,\n We'll seek in fellowship to prove,\n Joined in one spirit to our Lord,\n Together bound by mutual love.\n\n 3 And while we pass this vale of tears\n We'll make our joys and sorrows known;\n We'll share each other's hopes and fears,\n And count a brother's cares our own.\n\n 4 Once more our welcome we repeat,\n Receive assurance of our love;\n O may we all together meet\n Around the throne of God above.\n\n\n479 L. M.\n Christian affection.\n\n How blest the sacred tie that binds,\n In sweet communion, kindred minds!\n How swift the heavenly course they run,\n Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one!\n\n 2 To each the soul of each how dear!\n What tender love, what holy fear!\n How doth the generous flame within\n Refine from earth, and cleanse from sin!\n\n 3 Their streaming eyes together flow\n For human guilt and mortal woe;\n Their ardent prayers together rise\n Like mingling flames in sacrifice.\n\n 4 Nor shall the glowing flame expire,\n When dimly burns frail nature's fire;\n Then shall they meet in realms above,\n A heaven of joy, a heaven of love.\n\n\n480 L. M.\n The more excellent way.\n 1 Cor. 12:31.\n\n Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews,\n And nobler speech than angels use,\n If love be absent, I am found,\n Like tinkling brass, an empty sound.\n\n 2 Were I inspired to preach and tell\n All that is done in heaven and hell--\n Or could my faith the world remove--\n Still I am nothing without love.\n\n 3 Should I distribute all my store\n To feed the hungry, clothe the poor--\n Or give my body to the flame,\n To gain a martyr's glorious name--\n\n 4 If love to God and love to men\n Be absent, all my hopes are vain;\n Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal,\n The work of love can e'er fulfill.\n\n\n481 L. M.\n The pilgrim band.\n\n Come, you that love the Lord indeed,\n Who are from sin and bondage freed,\n Submit to all the ways of God,\n And walk the narrow, happy road.\n CHORUS.\n We're all united heart and hand,\n Joined in one band completely;\n We're marching through Immanuel's land,\n Where waters flow most sweetly.\n\n 2 Great tribulation you shall meet,\n But soon shall walk the golden street;\n Though hell may rage and vent its spite,\n Yet Christ will save his heart's delight.\n\n 3 That happy day will soon appear\n When Michael's trumpet you shall hear\n Sound through the earth--yea, down to hell,\n And call the nations, great and small.\n\n 4 Behold the righteous marching home,\n And all the angels bid them come,\n While Christ the Judge these words proclaims,\n \"Here come my saints--I own their names!\"\n\n 5 \"You everlasting gates, fly wide,\n Make ready to receive my bride;\n You harps of heaven, now sound aloud,\n Here come the ransomed by my blood!\"\n\n 6 In grandeur see the royal line,\n In glittering robes the sun outshine!\n See saints and angels join in one,\n And march in splendor to the throne.\n\n 7 They stand, and wonder, and look on:\n They join in one eternal song,\n Their great Redeemer to admire,\n While rapture sets their souls on fire.\n\n\n482 L. M.\n Thy little flock in safety keep.\n\n Jesus, thou Shepherd of the sheep,\n Thy little flock in safety keep;\n These lambs within thine arms now take,\n Nor let them e'er thy fold forsake.\n\n 2 Secure them from the scorching beam,\n And lead them to the living stream;\n In verdant pastures let them lie,\n And watch them with a shepherd's eye!\n\n 3 O, teach them to discern thy voice,\n And in its sacred sound rejoice!\n From strangers may they ever flee,\n And know no other guide but thee.\n\n 4 Lord, bring thy sheep that wander yet,\n And let their number be complete;\n Then let the flock from earth remove,\n And reach the heavenly fold above.\n\n\n483 L. M.\n Organization of a church.\n\n Lord, bless thy saints assembled here,\n In solemn covenant now to join;\n Unite them in thy holy fear,\n And in thy love their hearts combine.\n\n 2 O give this church a large increase\n Of such as thou wilt own and bless;\n Lord, fill their hearts with joy and peace,\n And clothe them with thy righteousness.\n\n 3 Make her a garden walled with grace,\n A temple built for God below,\n Where thy blest saints may see thy face;\n And fruits of thy blessed Spirit grow.\n\n\n484 L. M.\n You are all one in Christ Jesus.\n Gal. 3:28.\n\n Still one in life and one in death,\n One in our hope of rest above;\n One in our joy, our trust, our faith,\n One in each other's faithful love,\n\n 2 Yet must we part, and, parting, weep;\n What else has earth for us in store?\n Our farewell pangs, how sharp and deep!\n But soon we'll meet to part no more.\n\n\n485 L. M.\n Parting hymn.\n\n My Christian friends in bonds of love,\n Whose hearts the sweetest union prove;\n Your friendship's like the strongest band,\n Yet we must take the parting hand.\n\n 2 Your presence sweet, our union dear,\n What joys we feel together here!\n And when I see that we must part,\n You draw like chords around my heart.\n\n 3 How sweet the hours have passed away,\n Since we have met to sing and pray;\n How loath are we to leave the place\n Where Jesus shows his smiling face!\n\n 4 O could I stay with friends so kind,\n How would it cheer my fainting mind!\n But pilgrims in a foreign land,\n We oft must take the parting hand.\n\n 5 My Christian friends, both old and young,\n I trust you will in Christ go on;\n Press on, and soon you'll win the prize--\n A crown of glory in the skies.\n\n 6 A few more days, or years at most,\n And we shall reach fair Canaan's coast:\n When, in that holy, happy land,\n We'll take no more the parting hand.\n\n 7 O blessed day! O glorious hope!\n My soul rejoices at the thought,\n When, in that holy, happy land,\n We'll take no more the parting hand.\n\n\n486 C. M.\n Go on, you pilgrims.\n\n Go on, you pilgrims, while below,\n In the sure path of peace,\n Determined nothing else to know\n But Jesus and his grace.\n\n 2 Observe your leader, follow him;\n He through this world has been\n Often reviled; but like a lamb\n Did ne'er revile again.\n\n 3 O! take the pattern he has given,\n And love your enemies;\n And learn the only way to heaven\n Through self-denial lies.\n\n 4 Remember, you must watch and pray\n While journeying on the road,\n Lest you should fall out by the way,\n And wound the cause of God.\n\n 5 Go on rejoicing night and day;\n Your crown is yet before,\n Defy the trials of the way,\n The storm will soon be o'er.\n\n 6 Soon we shall reach the promised land,\n With all the ransomed race,\n And join with all the glorious band,\n To sing redeeming grace.\n\n\n487 C. M.\n Planting a church.\n\n Planted in Christ, the living vine,\n This day, with one accord,\n Ourselves, with humble faith and joy,\n We yield to thee, O Lord.\n\n 2 Joined in one body may we be;\n One inward life partake;\n One be our heart; one heavenly hope\n In every bosom wake.\n\n 3 In prayer, in effort, tears, and toils,\n One wisdom be our guide;\n Taught by one Spirit from above,\n In thee may we abide.\n\n 4 Around this feeble, trusting band,\n Thy sheltering pinions spread,\n Nor let the storms of trial beat\n Too fiercely on our head.\n\n 5 Then, when, among the saints in light,\n Our joyful spirits shine,\n Shall anthems of immortal praise,\n O Lamb of God, be thine.\n\n\n488 C. M.\n The unity of the Spirit.\n Eph. 4:3.\n\n Blessed be the dear uniting love,\n That will not let us part;\n Our bodies may far off remove--\n We still are one in heart.\n\n 2 Joined in one Spirit to our Head,\n Where he appoints, we go;\n And still in Jesus' footsteps tread,\n And show his praise below.\n\n 3 Partakers of the Saviour's grace,\n The same in mind and heart;\n Nor joy, nor grief, nor time, nor place,\n Nor life, nor death, can part.\n\n\n489 C. M.\n We will serve the Lord.\n Josh. 24:15.\n\n Ye men and angels, witness now--\n Before the Lord we speak,\n To him we make our solemn vow--\n A vow we dare not break:\n\n 2 That, long as life itself shall last,\n Ourselves to Christ we yield;\n Nor from his cause will we depart,\n Or ever quit the field.\n\n 3 We trust not in our native strength,\n But on his grace rely;\n May he, with our returning wants,\n All needful aid supply.\n\n 4 O, guide our doubtful feet aright,\n And keep us in thy ways;\n And, while we turn our vows to prayers,\n Turn thou our prayers to praise.\n\n\n490 C. M.\n Restore such a one, etc.\n Gal. 6:1.\n\n Think gently of the erring one!\n O, let us not forget,\n However darkly stained by sin,\n He is our brother yet.\n\n 2 Heir of the same inheritance,\n Child of the self-same God,\n He hath but stumbled in the path\n We have in weakness trod.\n\n 3 Speak gently to the erring ones!\n We yet may lead them back,\n With holy words and tones of love,\n From misery's thorny track.\n\n 4 Forget not, brother, thou hast sinned,\n And sinful yet may be;\n Deal gently with the erring heart,\n As God hath dealt with thee.\n\n\n491 C. M.\n Before and behind the vail.\n\n Happy the souls to Jesus joined,\n And made in spirit one:\n Walking in all his ways, they find\n Their heaven on earth begun.\n\n 2 The church triumphant in thy love,\n Their mighty joys we know;\n They sing the Lamb in hymns above,\n And we in hymns below.\n\n 3 Thee in thy glorious realm they praise,\n And bow before thy throne;\n We in the kingdom of thy grace;\n The kingdoms are but one.\n\n 4 The holy to the holiest leads;\n To heaven our spirits rise;\n And he that in thy statutes treads,\n Shall meet thee in the skies.\n\n\n492 C. M.\n Spiritual blessings in heavenly places.\n Eph. 1:3.\n\n O happy they who know the Lord,\n With whom he deigns to dwell!\n He feeds and cheers them by his word,\n His arm supports them well.\n\n 2 To them, in each distressing hour,\n His throne of grace is near;\n And when they plead his love and power,\n He stands engaged to hear.\n\n 3 His presence sweetens all our cares,\n And makes our burdens light;\n A word from him dispels our fears,\n And gilds the gloom of night.\n\n 4 Lord, we expect to suffer here,\n Nor would we dare repine;\n But give us still to find thee near,\n And own us still for thine.\n\n 5 Let us enjoy and highly prize\n These tokens of thy love,\n Till thou shalt bid our spirits rise\n To worship thee above.\n\n\n493 C. M.\n The bond of perfectness.\n Col. 3:14.\n\n How sweet, how heavenly is the sight,\n When those that love the Lord,\n In one another's peace delight,\n And so fulfill the word.\n\n 2 When each can feel his brother's sigh,\n And with him bear a part;\n When sorrow flows from eye to eye,\n And joy from heart to heart:\n\n 3 When free from envy, scorn, and pride,\n Our wishes all above,\n Each can his brother's failing hide,\n And show a brother's love:\n\n 4 When love in one delightful stream\n Through every bosom flows,\n When union sweet and dear esteem\n In every action glows.\n\n 5 Love is the golden chain that binds,\n The happy souls above,\n And he's an heir of heaven that finds\n His bosom glow with love.\n\n\n494 C. M.\n The whole family in heaven and earth.\n Eph 3:15.\n\n Come, let us join our friends above,\n Who have obtained the prize,\n And on the eagle wings of love,\n To joy celestial rise.\n\n 2 Let saints below in concert sing\n With those to glory gone;\n For all the servants of our King,\n In heaven and earth are one:\n\n 3 One family--we dwell in him;\n One church--above, beneath;\n Though now divided by the stream--\n The narrow stream of death.\n\n 4 One army of the living God,\n To his command we bow;\n Part of the host have crossed the flood,\n And part are crossing now.\n\n 5 Even now to their eternal home\n Some happy spirits fly;\n And we are to the margin come,\n Expecting soon to die!\n\n 6 Dear Saviour! be our constant guide;\n Then, when the word is given,\n Bid Jordan's narrow stream divide,\n And land us safe in heaven.\n\n\n495 S. M.\n Love as brethren.\n 1 Pet. 3:8.\n\n Blest be the tie that binds\n Our hearts in Christian love;\n The fellowship of kindred minds\n Is like to that above.\n\n 2 Before our Father's throne\n We pour our ardent prayers;\n Our fears, our hopes, our aims, are one,\n Our comforts and our cares.\n\n 3 We share our mutual woes,\n Our mutual burdens bear;\n And often for each other flows\n The sympathizing tear.\n\n 4 Though often called to part,\n Amid these scenes of pain;\n Yet, we shall still be joined in heart,\n And hope to meet again.\n\n 5 This glorious hope revives\n Our courage by the way;\n While each in expectation lives,\n And longs to see the day.\n\n 6 From sorrow, toil, and pain,\n And sin, we shall be free;\n And perfect love and friendship reign\n Through all eternity.\n\n\n496 S. M.\n Stand fast in the Lord.\n Phil. 4:1.\n\n All you that have confessed\n That Jesus is the Lord,\n And to his people joined yourselves,\n According to his word:\n\n 2 In Zion you must dwell,\n Her altar ne'er forsake;\n Must come to all her solemn feasts,\n Of all her joys partake.\n\n 3 She must employ your thoughts,\n And your unceasing care;\n Her welfare be your constant wish,\n And her increase your prayer.\n\n 4 With humbleness of mind,\n Among her sons rejoice;\n A meek and quiet spirit is\n With God of highest price.\n\n 5 Never offend, nor grieve\n Your brethren by the way;\n But shun the dark abodes of strife,\n Like children of the day.\n\n 6 In all your Saviour's ways,\n With willing footsteps move;\n Be faithful unto death, and then\n You'll reign with him above.\n\n\n497 S. M.\n Let there be no divisions among you.\n 1 Cor. 1:10.\n\n Let party names no more\n The Christian world o'erspread,\n Gentile and Jew, and bond and free,\n Are one in Christ, their Head.\n\n 2 Among the saints on earth\n Let mutual love be found;\n Heirs of the same inheritance,\n With mutual blessings crowned.\n\n 3 Thus will the church below\n Resemble that above,\n Where streams of pleasure ever flow,\n And every heart is love.\n\n\n498 7s.\n Strangers and pilgrims.\n 1 Pet. 2:11.\n\n Children of the heavenly King,\n As ye journey, sweetly sing;\n Sing your Saviour's worthy praise,\n Glorious in his works and ways.\n\n 2 Ye are traveling home to God,\n In the way the fathers trod:\n They are happy now--and ye\n Soon there happiness shall see.\n\n 3 Shout, ye little flock, and blest;\n You on Jesus' throne shall rest:\n There your seat is now prepared--\n There your kingdom and reward.\n\n 4 Fear not, brethren, joyful stand\n On the borders of your land;\n Jesus Christ, your Father's Son,\n Bids you undismayed go on.\n\n 5 Lord, submissive make us go,\n Gladly leaving all below;\n Only thou our leader be,\n And we still will follow thee.\n\n\n499 7s.\n Bond of peace.\n Eph. 4:3.\n\n Jesus, Lord, we look to thee;\n Let us in thy name agree;\n Show thyself the Prince of Peace;\n Bid our jars for ever cease.\n\n 2 By thy reconciling love,\n Every stumbling-block remove:\n Each to each unite, endear;\n Come, and spread thy banner here.\n\n 3 Make us of one heart and mind--\n Courteous, pitiful and kind;\n Lowly, meek, in thought and word--\n Altogether like our Lord.\n\n 4 Let us for each other care;\n Each the other's burden bear;\n To thy Church the pattern give;\n Show how true believers live.\n\n 5 Free from anger and from pride,\n Let us thus in God abide;\n All the depths of love express--\n All the hights of holiness.\n\n 6 Let us then with joy remove\n To the family above;\n On the wings of angels fly;\n Show how true believers die.\n\n\n500 8s.\n Love is of God.\n 1 John 4:7.\n\n Say, whence does this union arise,\n Where hatred is conquered by love?\n It fastens our souls with such ties,\n That distance nor time can remove.\n\n 2 It can not in Eden be found,\n Nor yet in a Paradise lost;\n It grows on Immanuel's ground,\n And Jesus' life's blood it has cost.\n\n 3 My friends so endeared unto me,\n Our souls so united in love;\n Where Jesus is gone we shall be,\n In yonder blest mansions above.\n\n 4 Why then so unwilling to part,\n Since there we shall soon meet again;\n Engraved on Immanuel's heart,\n At distance we can not remain.\n\n 5 And then we shall see that bright day,\n And join with the angels above,\n Set free from our prisons of clay,\n United in Jesus' kind love.\n\n 6 With Jesus we ever shall reign,\n And all his bright glory shall see;\n Then sing hallelujahs--Amen!\n Amen! Even so let it be!\n\n\n501 8s & 7s.\n Receive ye one another.\n Rom. 15:7.\n\n Come, dear friends, we all are brethren,\n Bound for Canaan's happy land;\n Come, unite and walk together,\n Christ, our Leader, gives command.\n Cease to boast of party merit,\n Wound the cause of God no more,\n Be united by his spirit;\n Zion's peace again restore.\n\n 2 Now our hand, our heart and spirit,\n Here in fellowship we give;\n Let us love and peace inherit,\n Show the world how Christians live.\n We'll be one in Christ our Saviour,\n Male and female, bond and free!\n Christ is all in all for ever,\n In him we shall blessed be.\n\n\n502 7s, 6 lines.\n Parting friends.\n\n When shall we all meet again?\n When shall we all meet again?\n Oft shall glowing hope expire,\n Oft shall wearied love retire,\n Oft shall death and sorrow reign,\n Ere we all shall meet again.\n\n 2 Though in distant lands we sigh,\n Parched beneath a hostile sky;\n Though the deep between us rolls--\n Friendship shall unite our souls:\n And in fancy's wide domain,\n Oft shall we all meet again.\n\n 3 When the dreams of life are fled,\n And its wasted lamp is dead:\n When in cold oblivion's shade,\n Beauty, wealth, and fame are laid;\n Where immortal spirits reign,\n There may we all meet again.\n\n\n503 P. M.\n We shall meet no more to part.\n\n We shall meet no more to part;\n Cease thy sorrows, mourning heart!\n Weary days will soon depart--\n Then we may rest for ever!\n When the work of life is done,\n When the victor's crown is won,\n Then, immortal life begun,\n We no more shall sever.\n We shall meet, no more to part;\n Cease thy sorrows, mourning heart!\n Weary days will soon depart--\n Then we may rest for ever!\n\n 2 In the house of peace and bliss,\n In the world where Jesus is,\n When we bid adieu to this,\n Then we may love for ever.\n Purified from every stain,\n Through the Lamb that once was slain,\n Brethren, we shall meet again,\n And be parted never!\n\n\n504 6s & 5s.\n When shall we meet again.\n\n When shall we meet again?\n Meet ne'er to sever?\n When will Peace wreathe her chain\n Round us for ever?\n Our hearts will ne'er repose\n Safe from each blast that blows\n In this dark vail of woes,\n Never--no, never!\n\n 2 When shall love freely flow,\n Pure as life's river?\n When shall sweet friendship glow,\n Changeless for ever?\n Where joys celestial thrill,\n Where bliss each heart shall fill,\n And fears of parting chill,\n Never--no, never!\n\n 3 Up to that world of light\n Take us, dear Saviour;\n May we all there unite,\n Happy for ever:\n Where kindred spirits dwell,\n There may our music swell,\n And time our joys dispel,\n Never--no, never!\n\n 4 Soon shall we meet again,\n Meet ne'er to sever:\n Soon shall Peace wreathe her chain\n Round us for ever:\n Our hearts will then repose\n Secure from worldly woes;\n Our songs of praise shall close,\n Never--no, never!\n\n\n505 C. P. M.\n He that dwelleth in love, etc.\n 1 John 4:16.\n\n O love divine, how sweet thou art!\n When shall I find my wandering heart\n All taken up in thee!\n O may I daily live to prove\n The sweetness of redeeming love,\n The love of Christ to me.\n\n 2 God only knows the love of God;\n O may it now be shed abroad\n To cheer my fainting heart!\n I want to feel that love divine;\n This heavenly portion, Lord, be mine--\n Be mine this better part.\n\n 3 O that I could for ever sit\n With Mary at the Master's feet!\n Be this my happy choice;\n My only care, delight, and bliss,\n My joy, my heaven on earth, be this,\n To hear the Bridegroom's voice.\n\n 4 O that I might, with happy John,\n Recline my weary head upon\n The blessed Redeemer's breast!\n From care, and fear, and sorrow free,\n Give me, O Lord, to find in thee\n My everlasting rest.\n\n\n506 6s, 4s & 5s.\n A parting hymn.\n\n Peacefully, tenderly,\n Here, as we part,\n The farewell that lingers\n Be breathed from the heart:\n No place more fitting,\n O house of the Lord--\n Here be it spoken,\n That last prayerful word.\n\n 2 Thoughtfully, carefully,\n Solemn and slow!\n Tears are bedewing\n The path that we go;\n Perils before us\n We know not to-day--\n Kindly and safely,\n O Lord, lead the way.\n\n 3 Upwardly, steadfastly,\n Gaze on that brow:\n Jesus, our Leader,\n Reigns conqueror now.\n His steps let us follow,\n His sufferings dare,\n Go up to glory,\n His blessedness share.\n\n 4 Patiently, cheerfully,\n Up, and depart\n To labor and duty\n With gladness of heart;\n The ransomed, with triumph,\n To Zion we'll bring,\n Shouting salvation\n To Jesus, our King.\n\n\n507 L. M.\n Pilgrim's farewell.\n\n Farewell, my friends, time rolls along,\n Nor waits for mortal care or bliss;\n I leave you here to travel on,\n Till I arrive where Jesus is.\n Chorus.--Farewell, farewell, farewell,\n My Christian friends, farewell.\n\n 2 Farewell, my brethren in the Lord,\n To you I'm bound in cords of love,\n Yet we believe his gracious word,\n That we ere long shall meet above.\n\n 3 Farewell, old soldiers of the cross,\n You've struggled long and hard for heaven,\n You've counted all things here but dross,\n Fight on, the crown will soon be given.\n\n 4 Farewell, poor careless sinners, too,\n It grieves my soul to leave you here.\n Eternal sorrow waits for you,\n O turn, and find salvation near.\n\n\n508 10s & 8s.\n Waiting on God.\n Isaiah. 40:31.\n\n O happy children who follow Jesus\n Into the house of prayer and praise,\n And join in union while love increases,\n Resolved this way to spend our days:\n Although we're hated by the world and Satan,\n By the flesh and such as love not God;\n Yet happy moments and joyful seasons\n We ofttimes find on Canaan's road.\n\n 2 Since we've been waiting on lovely Jesus,\n We've felt some strength come from above,\n Our hearts have burned with holy rapture,\n We long to be absorbed in love:\n Let us sing praises for what is given,\n And trust in God for time to come;\n Sure we shall find the way to heaven;\n So farewell, brethren--we're going home.\n\n 3 And as we go let us praise our Saviour,\n And pray for those who spurn his grace,\n Lest they should lose love's richest treasure,\n And ne'er enjoy his smiling face.\n Now here's my hand and my best wishes,\n In token of my Christian love;\n In hopes with you to praise my Jesus:\n So farewell, brethren,--we'll meet above.\n\n\n509 C. P. M.\n Heavenward.\n Col. 3:2.\n\n Come on, my partners in distress,\n My comrades in the wilderness,\n Who feel your sorrows still;\n A while forget your griefs and fears\n And look beyond this vale of tears\n To that celestial hill.\n\n 2 Beyond the bounds of time and space,\n Look forward to that heavenly place,\n The saint's secure abode;\n On faith's strong eagle pinions rise,\n And force your passage to the skies,\n And scale the mount of God.\n\n 3 Who suffer with our Master here,\n Shall there before his face appear,\n And by his side sit down:\n To patient faith the prize is sure;\n And all that to the end endure\n The cross, shall wear the crown.\n\n\n510 11s.\n Home.\n Phil. 3:20.\n\n 'Mid scenes of confusion and creature complaints,\n How sweet to my soul is communion with saints;\n To find at the banquet of mercy there's room,\n And feel in the presence of Jesus at home.\n\n 2 Sweet bonds, that unite all the children of peace;\n And thrice blessed Jesus, whose love can not cease;\n Though oft from thy presence in sadness I roam,\n I long to behold thee in glory at home.\n\n 3 While here in the valley of conflict I stray,\n O give me submission and strength as my day;\n In all my afflictions to thee would I come,\n Rejoicing in hope of my glorious home.\n\n 4 I long, dearest Lord, in thy beauty to shine;\n No more as an exile in sorrow to pine;\n And in thy dear image arise from the tomb,\n With glorified millions to praise thee at home.\n\n\n511 S. H. M.\n Ephesians 4:5.\n\n One baptism and one faith,\n One Lord below, above,\n The fellowship of Zion hath\n One only watchword--Love.\n From different temples though it rise,\n One song ascendeth to the skies.\n\n 2 Our sacrifice is One;\n One priest before the throne--\n The crucified, the risen Son,\n Redeemer, Lord alone!\n And sighs from contrite hearts that spring,\n Our chief, our choicest offering.\n\n 3 O why should they who love\n One gospel to unfold,\n Who look for one bright home above,\n On earth be strange and cold?\n Why, subjects of the Prince of Peace,\n In strife abide, and bitterness?\n\n 4 O may that holy prayer--\n His tenderest and his last,\n The utterance of his latest care\n Ere to the cross he passed--\n No longer unfulfilled remain,\n The World's offense, thy people's stain!\n\n\n\n\n THE LORD'S SUPPER.\n\n\n512 L. M.\n Glorying only in the cross.\n Gal. 6:14.\n\n When I survey the wondrous cross,\n On which the Prince of glory died,\n My richest gain I count but loss,\n And pour contempt on all my pride!\n\n 2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,\n Save in the death of Christ, my Lord:\n All the vain things that charm me most,\n I sacrifice them to his blood.\n\n 3 See from his head, his hands, his feet,\n Sorrow and love flow mingled down;\n Did e'er such love and sorrow meet--\n Or thorns compose so rich a crown?\n\n 4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,\n That were a present far too small;\n Love so amazing, so divine,\n Demands my soul, my life, my all!\n\n\n513 L. M.\n Delight in Christ.\n\n Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts!\n Thou Fount of Life! thou Light of men!\n From the best bliss that earth imparts,\n We turn unfilled to thee again.\n\n 2 Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood;\n Thou savest those that on thee call;\n To them that seek thee, thou art good,\n To them that find thee--All in All!\n\n 3 We taste thee, O thou Living Bread,\n And long to feed upon thee still;\n We drink of thee, the Fountain Head,\n And thirst our souls from thee to fill.\n\n 4 Our restless spirits yearn for thee,\n Where'er our changeful lot is cast;\n Glad, when thy gracious smile we see,\n Blest, when our faith can hold thee fast.\n\n 5 O Jesus, ever with us stay!\n Make all our moments calm and bright,\n Chase the dark night of sin away--\n Shed o'er the world thy holy light!\n\n\n514 L. M.\n Soft be the gently breathing notes.\n\n Soft be the gently breathing notes\n That sing the Saviour's dying love;\n Soft as the evening zephyr floats,\n Soft as the tuneful lyres above:\n Soft as the morning dews descend,\n While warbling birds exulting soar;\n So soft to our almighty Friend\n Be every sigh our bosoms pour.\n\n 2 Pure as the sun's enlivening ray,\n That scatters life and joy abroad;\n Pure as the lucid orb of day,\n That wide proclaims its Maker, God;\n Pure as the breath of vernal skies,\n So pure let our contrition be;\n And purely let our sorrows rise\n To him who bled upon the tree.\n\n\n515 L. M.\n Communion in Christ.\n\n How pleasing to behold and see\n The friends of Jesus all agree--\n To sit around the sacred board\n As members of one common Lord.\n\n 2 Here we behold the dawn of bliss--\n Here we behold the Saviour's grace--\n Here we behold his precious blood,\n Which sweetly pleads for us with God.\n\n 3 While here we sit, we would implore\n That love may spread from shore to shore,\n Till all the saints, like us, combine\n To praise the Lord in songs divine.\n\n 4 To all we freely give our hand,\n Who love the Lord in every land;\n For all are one in Christ our head,\n To whom be endless honors paid.\n\n\n516 L. M.\n Welcome to young converts.\n\n Welcome, ye hopeful heirs of heaven,\n To this rich feast of gospel love--\n This pledge is but the prelude given\n To that immortal feast above.\n\n 2 How great the blessing, thus to meet\n According to our Saviour's word,\n And hold by faith communion sweet,\n With our unseen yet present Lord.\n\n 3 And if so sweet this feast below,\n What will it be to meet above,\n Where all we see, and feel, and know,\n Are fruits of everlasting love!\n\n 4 Soon shall we tune the heavenly lyre,\n While listening worlds the song approve;\n Eternity itself expire,\n Ere we exhaust the theme of love.\n\n\n517 L. M.\n The last scenes.\n\n 'Twas on that night when doomed to know\n The eager rage of every foe,\n That night in which he was betrayed,\n The Saviour of the world took bread;\n\n 2 And, after thanks and glory given\n To him that rules in earth and heaven,\n That symbol of his flesh he broke,\n And thus to all his followers spoke:\n\n 3 My broken body thus I give\n To you, my friends; take, eat, and live;\n And oft the sacred feast renew,\n That brings my wondrous love to view.\n\n 4 Then in his hands the cup he raised,\n And God anew he thanked and praised;\n While kindness in his bosom glowed,\n And from his lips salvation flowed.\n\n 5 My blood I thus pour forth, he cries,\n To cleanse the soul in sin that lies;\n In this the covenant is sealed,\n And heaven's eternal grace revealed.\n\n 6 This cup is fraught with love to men;\n Let all partake who love my name;\n Through latest ages let it pour\n In memory of my dying hour.\n\n\n518 L. M.\n The bread of life.\n\n Away from earth my spirit turns--\n Away from every transient good:\n With strong desire my bosom burns\n To feast on heaven's diviner food.\n\n 2 Thou, Saviour, art the living bread;\n Thou wilt my every want supply;\n By thee sustained, and cheered, and led,\n I'll press through dangers to the sky.\n\n 3 What though temptations oft distress,\n And sin assails, and breaks my peace;\n Thou wilt uphold, and save, and bless,\n And bid the storms of passion cease.\n\n 4 Then let me take thy gracious hand,\n And walk beside thee onward still;\n Till my glad feet shall safely stand\n Forever firm on Zion's hill.\n\n\n519 C. M.\n They came together to break bread.\n Acts 20:7.\n\n Lord, may the spirit of this feast--\n The earnest of thy love--\n Maintain a dwelling in our breast\n Until we meet above.\n\n 2 The healing sense of pardoned sin,\n The hope that never tires,\n The strength a pilgrim's race to win,\n The joy that heaven inspires:\n\n 3 Still may their light our duties trace\n In lines of hallowed flame,\n Like that upon the prophet's face,\n When from the mount he came.\n\n 4 But if no more with kindred dear\n The broken bread we share,\n Nor at the banquet board appear\n To breathe the grateful prayer;\n\n 5 Forget us not--when on the bed\n Of dire disease we waste,\n Or to the chambers of the dead,\n And bar of judgment haste.\n\n 6 Forget not--thou who bore the woe\n Of Calvary's fatal tree--\n Those who within these courts below\n Have thus remembered thee.\n\n\n520 C. M.\n Remembering Christ.\n\n If human kindness meets return,\n And owns the grateful tie--\n If tender thoughts within us burn\n To feel a friend is nigh;\n\n 2 O, shall not warmer accents tell\n The gratitude we owe\n To him who died our fears to quell,\n And save from endless woe?\n\n 3 While yet his anguished soul surveyed\n Those pangs he would not flee,\n What love his latest words displayed--\n \"Meet and remember me.\"\n\n 4 Remember thee! thy death, thy shame,\n The griefs which thou didst bear!\n O memory, leave no other name\n But His recorded there.\n\n\n521 C. M.\n Spiritual refreshment.\n\n O God, unseen yet ever near!\n Reveal thy presence now,\n While we, in love that hath no fear,\n Before thy glory bow.\n\n 2 Here may obedient spirits find\n The blessings of thy love--\n The streams that through the desert wind,\n The manna from above.\n\n 3 Awhile beside the fount we stay,\n And eat this bread of thine,\n Then go, rejoicing, on our way,\n Renewed with strength divine.\n\n\n522 C. M.\n Reception of members.\n\n Come in, thou blessed of the Lord;\n Stranger nor foe art thou:\n We welcome thee with warm accord,\n Our friend, our brother now.\n\n 2 The hand of fellowship, the heart\n Of love, we offer thee:\n Leaving the world, thou dost but part\n From lies and vanity.\n\n 3 The cup of blessing which we bless,\n The heavenly bread we break--\n Our Saviour's blood and righteousness,\n Freely with us partake.\n\n 4 In weal or woe, in joy or care,\n Thy portion shall be ours;\n Christians their mutual burdens bear;\n They lend their mutual powers.\n\n 5 Come with us, we will do thee good,\n As God to us hath done;\n Stand but in him, as those have stood,\n Whose faith the victory won.\n\n 6 And when, by turns, we pass away\n As star by star grows dim,\n May each, translated into day,\n Be lost, and found in him.\n\n\n523 C. M.\n Blessed are the poor in spirit.\n Matt. 5:3.\n\n Lord, at thy table we behold\n The wonders of thy grace;\n But most of all admire that we\n Should find a welcome place.\n\n 2 What strange, surprising grace is this,\n That we, so lost, have room!\n Jesus our weary souls invites,\n And freely bids us come!\n\n 3 Ye saints below, and hosts of heaven,\n Join all your sacred powers:\n No theme is like redeeming love;\n No Saviour is like ours.\n\n\n524 C. M.\n In remembrance of me.\n 1 Cor. 11:24.\n\n In memory of the Saviour's love,\n We keep the sacred feast,\n Where every humble, contrite heart\n Is made a welcome guest.\n\n 2 Under his banner thus we sing\n The wonders of his love,\n And thus anticipate by faith\n The heavenly feast above.\n\n\n525 C. M.\n He was known of them, etc.\n Luke 24:35.\n\n Shepherd of souls, refresh and bless\n Thy chosen pilgrim flock,\n With manna from the wilderness,\n With water from the rock.\n\n 2 Hungry and thirsty, faint and weak\n (As thou when here below),\n Our souls the joys celestial seek,\n That from thy sorrows flow.\n\n 3 We would not live by bread alone,\n But by thy word of grace--\n In strength of which we travel on\n To our abiding place.\n\n 4 Be known to us in breaking bread,\n But do not then depart--\n Saviour abide with us, and spread\n Thy table in our heart.\n\n 5 Then sup with us in love divine;\n Thy body and thy blood,\n That living bread and heavenly wine,\n Be our immortal food.\n\n\n526 S. M.\n You do show the Lord's death.\n 1 Cor. 11:26.\n\n Jesus, the Friend of man,\n Invites us to his board;\n The welcome summons we obey,\n And own our gracious Lord.\n\n 2 Here we show forth his love,\n Which spake in every breath,\n Prompted each action of his life,\n And triumphed in his death.\n\n 3 Here let our powers unite\n His honored name to raise;\n Let grateful joy fill every mind,\n And every voice be praise.\n\n 4 One faith, one hope, one Lord\n One God alone we know;\n Brethren we are; let every heart\n With kind affections grow.\n\n\n527 S. M.\n After the supper.\n\n Now let each happy guest\n The sacred concert raise,\n To close the honors of the feast,\n And sing the Master's praise.\n\n 2 His condescending love\n First calls our wonder forth;\n He left the blessed realms above,\n To dwell with men on earth.\n\n 3 His precepts, how divine!\n How suited to our state!\n How bright his acts of mercy shine\n His promises how great!\n\n 4 Redemption's glorious plan,\n How wondrous in our view!\n The salutary source to man\n Of peace and pardon too.\n\n\n528 S. M.\n Truly our fellowship is with the Father, etc.\n 1 John 1:3.\n\n Our heavenly Father calls,\n And Christ invites us near;\n With both, our friendship shall be sweet,\n And our communion dear.\n\n 2 God pities all our griefs:\n He pardons every day;\n Almighty to protect our souls,\n And wise to guide our way.\n\n 3 How large his bounties are!\n What various stores of good,\n Diffused from our Redeemer's hand,\n And purchased with his blood!\n\n 4 Jesus, our living Head,\n We bless thy faithful care;\n Our Advocate before the throne,\n And our forerunner there.\n\n 5 Here fix my roving heart!\n Here wait my warmest love!\n Till the communion be complete,\n In nobler scenes above.\n\n\n529 C. M.\n Take this, etc.\n Luke 22:17.\n\n Jesus invites his saints\n To meet around his board;\n Here pardoned rebels sit, and hold\n Communion with their Lord.\n\n 2 This holy bread and wine\n Maintain our fainting breath,\n By union with our living Lord,\n And interest in his death.\n\n 3 Let all our powers be joined\n His glorious name to raise;\n Let holy love fill every mind,\n And every voice be praise.\n\n\n530 S. M.\n And when they had sung a hymn, etc.\n Matt. 26:30.\n\n A parting hymn we sing,\n Around thy table, Lord;\n Again our grateful tribute bring,\n Our solemn vows record.\n\n 2 Here have we seen thy face,\n And felt thy presence here;\n So may the savor of thy grace\n In word and life appear.\n\n 3 The purchase of thy blood--\n By sin no longer led--\n The path our dear Redeemer trod\n May we rejoicing tread.\n\n 4 In self-forgetting love\n Be Christian union shown,\n Until we join the Church above,\n And know as we are known.\n\n\n531 S. M.\n Behold the Lamb of God.\n John 1:36.\n\n Not all the blood of beasts,\n On Jewish altars slain,\n Could give the guilty conscience peace,\n Or wash away its stain.\n\n 2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,\n Bears all our sins away;\n A sacrifice of nobler name\n And richer blood than they.\n\n 3 My faith would lay her hand\n On that dear head of thine,\n While like a penitent I stand,\n And there confess my sin.\n\n 4 Believing, we rejoice\n To see the curse remove;\n We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,\n And sing his dying love.\n\n\n532 S. M.\n Foretastes.\n Mark 14:25.\n\n Blest feast of love divine!\n 'Tis grace that makes us free\n To feed upon this bread and wine,\n In memory, Lord, of thee!\n\n 2 That blood which flowed for sin,\n In symbol here we see,\n And feel the blessed pledge within,\n That we are loved of thee.\n\n 3 O, if this glimpse of love\n Be so divinely sweet,\n What will it be, O Lord, above,\n Thy gladdening smile to meet!\n\n 4 To see thee face to face--\n Thy perfect likeness wear--\n And all thy ways of wondrous grace\n Through endless years declare!\n\n\n533 8s & 7s.\n I will draw all men unto me.\n John 12:32.\n\n It is finished! Man of Sorrows!\n From thy cross our frailty borrows\n Strength to bear and conquer thus.\n\n 2 While extended there we view thee,\n Mighty Sufferer! draw us to thee;\n Sufferer victorious!\n\n 3 Not in vain for us uplifted,\n Man of Sorrows, wonder-gifted!\n May that sacred emblem be;\n\n 4 Lifted high amid the ages,\n Guide of heroes, saints, and sages;\n May it guide us still to thee!\n\n\n534 7s.\n The body and blood of Christ.\n\n Bread of heaven, on thee we feed,\n For thy flesh is meat indeed;\n Ever let our souls be fed\n With this true and living bread.\n\n 2 Vine of heaven, thy blood supplies\n This blest cup of sacrifice;\n Lord, thy wounds our healing give;\n To thy cross we look and live.\n\n 3 Day by day with strength supplied,\n Through the life of him who died,\n Lord of life, O let us be\n Rooted, grafted, built on thee.\n\n\n535 8s & 7s.\n Leaving the Lord's table.\n\n From the table now retiring,\n Which for us the Lord hath spread,\n May our souls, refreshment finding,\n Grow in all things like our Head.\n\n 2 His example by beholding,\n May our lives his image bear;\n Him our Lord and Master calling,\n His commands may we revere.\n\n 3 Love to God and man displaying,\n Walking steadfast in his way,\n Joy attend us in believing,\n Peace from God, through endless day.\n\n\n536 P. M.\n It was for us.\n\n Near the cross our station taking,\n Earthly cares and joys forsaking,\n Meet it is for us to mourn:\n 'Twas for us he came from heaven,\n 'Twas for us his heart was riven;\n All his griefs for us were borne.\n\n 2 When no eye its pity gave us,\n When there was no arm to save us,\n He his love and power displayed:\n By his stripes our help and healing,\n By his death our life revealing,\n He for us the ransom paid.\n\n 3 Jesus, may thy love constrain us,\n That from sin we may refrain us,\n In thy griefs may deeply grieve;\n Thee our best affections giving,\n To thy praise and honor living,\n May we in thy glory live!\n\n\n537 P. M.\n My peace I give unto you.\n\n Lamb of God! whose bleeding love\n We now recall to mind,\n Send thy blessing from above,\n And let us mercy find;\n Think on us, who think on thee;\n Every burdened soul release;\n O, remember Calvary,\n And bid us go in peace!\n\n 2 By thine agonizing pain,\n And bloody sweat, we pray--\n By thy dying love to man,\n Take all our sins away:\n By thy passion on the tree,\n Let our griefs and troubles cease:\n O, remember Calvary,\n And bid us go in peace!\n\n\n538 8s & 7s.\n Looking to Jesus.\n Heb. 12:2.\n\n Sweet the moments, rich in blessing,\n Which before the cross I spend;\n Life, and health, and peace possessing,\n From the sinner's dying friend.\n\n 2 Here I'll sit, for ever viewing\n Mercy streaming in his blood;\n Precious drops! my soul bedewing,\n Plead they now my peace with God.\n\n 3 Truly blessed is this station,\n Here unfolds his wondrous grace;\n While I see divine compassion\n Beaming in his lovely face.\n\n 4 Here it is I find my heaven,\n While upon the cross I gaze;\n Here the joy of sins forgiven\n Shall inspire my songs of praise.\n\n 5 Love and grief my heart dividing,\n While his feet I bathe with tears;\n Constant still in faith abiding--\n Hope triumphant o'er my fears.\n\n 6 Lord! in ceaseless contemplation,\n Fix my trusting heart on thee,\n Till I know thy full salvation,\n And thy face in glory see.\n\n\n539 P. M.\n My meditation shall be sweet.\n Psalm 104:34.\n\n Here I sink before thee lowly,\n Filled with gladness deep and holy,\n As with trembling awe and wonder\n On thy mighty work I ponder--\n On this banquet's mystery,\n On the depths we can not see:\n Far beyond all mortal sight\n Lie the secrets of thy might.\n\n 2 Sun, who all my life dost brighten!\n Light, who dost my soul enlighten!\n Joy, the sweetest man e'er knoweth!\n Fount, whence all my being floweth!\n Humbly draw I near to thee;\n Grant that I may worthily\n Take this blessed heavenly food,\n To thy praise, and to my good.\n\n 3 Jesus, Bread of Life from heaven,\n Never be thou vainly given,\n Nor I to my hurt invited;\n Be thy love with love requited;\n Let me learn its depths indeed,\n While on thee my soul doth feed;\n Let me, here so richly blest,\n Be hereafter, too, thy guest.\n\n\n540 8s & 7s.\n Whom having not seen, we love.\n 1 Pet. 1:8.\n\n While in sweet communion feeding\n On this earthly bread and wine,\n Saviour may we see thee bleeding\n On the cross to make us thine.\n\n 2 Though unseen, now be thou near us,\n With the still small voice of love,\n Whispering words of peace to cheer us--\n Every doubt and fear remove.\n\n 3 Bring before us all the story,\n Of thy life, and death of woe!\n And with hopes of endless glory,\n Wean our hearts from all below.\n\n\n541 P. M.\n To Him be glory.\n Eph. 3:21.\n\n Jesus has died for me,\n Glory to God!\n From sin he set me free,\n Glory to God!\n And, if I trust his grace,\n I soon shall win the race;\n Then see his lovely face,\n Glory to God.\n\n 2 Soon, I shall sing above,\n Glory to God!\n Tell of his wondrous love,\n Glory to God:\n Free from all death and wrong,\n Then shall my notes prolong\n One loud, triumphant song,\n Glory to God!\n\n\n542 6s & 4s.\n Christ our confidence.\n\n My faith looks up to thee,\n Thou Lamb of Calvary:\n Saviour divine,\n Now hear me while I pray;\n Take all my guilt away;\n O, let me, from this day,\n Be wholly thine.\n\n 2 May thy rich grace impart\n Strength to my fainting heart;\n My zeal inspire;\n As thou hast died for me,\n O may my love to thee\n Pure, warm, and changeless be--\n A living fire.\n\n 3 While life's dark maze I tread,\n And griefs around me spread,\n Be thou my guide;\n Bid darkness turn to day,\n Wipe sorrow's tears away,\n Nor let me ever stray\n From thee aside.\n\n 4 When ends life's transient dream,\n When death's cold, sullen stream\n Shall o'er me roll;\n Blest Saviour, then, in love,\n Fear and distress remove;\n O bear me safe above--\n A ransomed soul.\n\n\n543 7s & 6s.\n The Cross--the power of God.\n 1 Cor. 1:18.\n\n I saw the cross of Jesus\n When burdened with my sin;\n I sought the cross of Jesus\n To give me peace within;\n I brought my soul to Jesus;\n He cleansed it in his blood;\n And in the cross of Jesus\n I found my peace with God.\n\n 2 I love the cross of Jesus--\n It tells what I am;\n A vile and guilty creature,\n Saved only through the Lamb.\n No righteousness, no merit,\n No beauty can I plead;\n Yet in the cross I glory,\n My title there I read.\n\n 3 I clasp the cross of Jesus\n In every trying hour,\n My sure and certain refuge,\n My never-failing tower.\n In every fear and conflict,\n I more than conqueror am;\n Living I'm safe, or dying,\n Through Christ the risen Lamb.\n\n 4 Sweet is the cross of Jesus!\n There let my weary heart\n Still rest in peace and safety\n Till life itself depart;\n And then in strains of glory\n I'll sing thy wondrous power,\n Where sin can never enter,\n And death is known no more.\n\n\n544 10s.\n Communion of the body and blood of Christ.\n\n Here, O my Lord, I see thee face to face;\n Here would I touch and handle things unseen;\n Here grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace,\n And all my weariness upon thee lean.\n\n 2 Here would I feed upon the bread of God;\n Here drink with thee the royal wine of heaven;\n Here would I lay aside each earthly load,\n Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.\n\n 3 Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;\n The feast, though not the love, is passed and gone:\n The bread and wine remove, but thou art here--\n Nearer than ever--still my Shield and Sun.\n\n 4 Feast after feast thus comes and passes by;\n Yet, passing, points to the glad feast above--\n Giving sweet foretaste of the festal joy,\n The Lamb's great bridal feast of bliss and love.\n\n\n545 H. M.\n Believing, we rejoice.\n 1 Peter 1:8.\n\n Ye saints, your music bring,\n Attuned to sweetest sound,\n Strike every trembling string,\n Till earth and heaven resound;\n The triumphs of the cross we sing;\n Awake, ye saints, each joyful string.\n\n 2 The cross, the cross alone,\n Subdued the powers of hell;\n Like lightning from his throne\n The prince of darkness fell,\n The triumphs of the cross we sing,\n Awake, ye saints, each joyful string.\n\n 3 The cross hath power to save\n From all the foes that rise;\n The cross hath made the grave\n A passage to the skies;\n The triumphs of the cross we sing;\n Awake, ye saints, each joyful string.\n\n\n546 7s, 6 lines.\n The true Passover.\n\n Once the angel started back,\n When he saw the blood-stained door,\n Pausing on his vengeful track,\n And the dwelling passing o'er.\n Once the sea from Israel fled,\n Ere it rolled o'er Egypt's dead.\n\n 2 Now our Passover is come,\n Dimly shadowed in the past,\n And the very Paschal Lamb,\n Christ, the Lord, is slain at last.\n Then with hearts and hands made meet,\n Our unleavened bread we'll eat.\n\n 3 Blessed Victim sent from heaven,\n Whom all angel hosts obey,\n To whose will all earth is given,\n At whose word hell shrinks away.\n Thou hast conquered death's dread strife,\n Thou hast brought us light and life.\n\n\n\n\n PRAYER AND SOCIAL MEETINGS.\n\n\n547 L. M.\n The Mercy Seat.\n\n From every stormy wind that blows,\n From every swelling tide of woes,\n There is a calm, a sure retreat--\n 'Tis found beneath the Mercy Seat.\n\n 2 There is a place where Jesus sheds\n The oil of gladness on our heads,\n A place than all besides more sweet--\n It is the blood-bought Mercy Seat.\n\n 3 There is a scene where spirits blend,\n Where friend holds fellowship with friend;\n Though sundered far, by faith they meet\n Around one common Mercy Seat.\n\n 4 Ah! whither could we flee for aid,\n When tempted, desolate, dismayed;\n Or how the host of hell defeat,\n Had suffering souls no Mercy Seat?\n\n 5 There! there on eagle wings we soar,\n And sin and sense seem all no more,\n And heaven comes down our souls to greet,\n And glory crowns the Mercy Seat!\n\n 6 O let my hand forget her skill,\n My tongue be silent cold and still,\n This bounding heart forget to beat,\n Ere I forget the Mercy Seat!\n\n\n548 L. M.\n This is the gate of heaven.\n Gen. 28:17.\n\n How sweet to leave the world awhile\n And seek the presence of our Lord!\n Dear Saviour! on thy people smile,\n And come according to thy word.\n\n 2 From busy scenes we now retreat,\n That we may here converse with thee:\n Ah! Lord! behold us at thy feet--\n Let this the \"gate of heaven\" be.\n\n 3 \"Chief of ten thousand!\" now appear,\n That we by faith may see thy face:\n O! grant that we thy voice may hear,\n And let thy presence fill this place.\n\n\n549 L. M.\n For a business meeting.\n\n Benignant God of love and power,\n Be with us in this solemn hour;\n Smile on our souls; our plans approve,\n By which we seek to spread thy love.\n\n 2 Let each discordant thought be gone,\n And love unite our hearts in one;\n Let all we have and are combine\n To forward objects so divine.\n\n\n550 L. M.\n Hour of prayer.\n\n Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer,\n That calls me from a world of care,\n And bids me at my Father's throne,\n Make all my wants and wishes known!\n In seasons of distress and grief,\n My soul has often found relief,\n And oft escaped the tempter's snare,\n By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.\n\n 2 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!\n The joy I feel, the bliss I share,\n Of those whose anxious spirits burn\n With strong desires for thy return.\n With such I hasten to the place\n Where God my Saviour shows his face,\n And gladly take my station there,\n And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.\n\n 3 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!\n Thy wings shall my petition bear\n To him whose truth and faithfulness\n Engage the waiting soul to bless;\n And since he bids me seek his face,\n Believe his word and trust his grace,\n I'll cast on him my every care,\n And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.\n\n\n551 L. M.\n Isaiah 57:15.\n\n Jesus, where'er thy people meet,\n There they behold thy mercy-seat;\n Where'er they seek thee, thou art found;\n And every place is hallowed ground.\n\n 2 For thou, within no walls confined,\n Inhabitest the humble mind;\n Such ever bring thee where they come,\n And, going, take thee to their home.\n\n 3 Dear Shepherd of thy chosen few,\n Thy former mercies here renew;\n Here to our waiting hearts proclaim\n The sweetness of thy saving name.\n\n 4 Here may we prove the power of prayer\n To strengthen faith and banish care;\n To teach our faint desires to rise,\n And bring all heaven before our eyes.\n\n\n552 L. M.\n There am I.\n Matt. 18:20.\n\n Where two or three, with sweet accord,\n Obedient to their sovereign Lord,\n Meet to recount his acts of grace,\n And offer solemn prayer and praise;\n\n 2 \"There,\" says the Saviour, \"will I be,\n Amid the little company;\n To them unvail my smiling face,\n And shed my glories round the place.\"\n\n 3 We meet at thy command, O Lord,\n Relying on thy faithful word;\n Be present in each waiting heart,\n And strength and heavenly peace impart.\n\n\n553 L. M.\n No other friend can I desire.\n\n My precious Lord, for thy dear name\n I bear the cross, despise the shame;\n Nor do I faint while thou art near;\n I lean on thee, how can I fear?\n\n 2 No other name but thine is given\n To cheer my soul in earth or heaven;\n No other wealth will I require:\n No other friend can I desire.\n\n 3 Yea, into nothing would I fall\n For thee alone, my All in All;\n To feel thy love, my only joy;\n To tell thy love, my sole employ.\n\n\n554 L. M.\n Christ, all in all.\n Col. 3:11.\n\n O thou pure light of souls that love,\n True joy of every human breast,\n Sower of life's immortal seed,\n Our Saviour and Redeemer blest!\n\n 2 Be thou our guide, be thou our goal;\n Be thou our pathway to the skies;\n Our joy when sorrow fills the soul;\n In death our everlasting prize.\n\n\n555 L. M.\n The tranquil hour.\n\n Thou, Saviour, from thy throne on high,\n Enrobed with light, and girt with power,\n Dost note the thought, the prayer, the sigh,\n Of hearts that love the tranquil hour.\n\n 2 Oft thou thyself didst steal away,\n At eventide, from labor done,\n In some still peaceful shade to pray,\n Till morning watches were begun.\n\n 3 Thou hast not, dearest Lord, forgot\n Thy wrestlings on Judea's hills;\n And still thou lovest the quiet spot\n Where praise the lowly spirit fills.\n\n 4 Now to our souls, withdrawn awhile\n From earth's rude noise, thy face reveal,\n And, as we worship, kindly smile,\n And for thine own our spirits seal.\n\n 5 To thee we bring each grief and care,\n To thee we fly while tempests lower;\n Thou wilt the weary burdens bear\n Of hearts that love the tranquil hour.\n\n\n556 L. M.\n Exhortation to prayer.\n\n What various hindrances we meet\n In coming to a mercy-seat!\n Yet who, that knows the worth of prayer,\n But wishes to be often there?\n\n 2 Prayer makes the darkened clouds withdraw;\n Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw,\n Gives exercise to faith and love,\n Brings every blessing from above.\n\n 3 Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;\n Prayer makes the Christian's armor bright;\n And Satan trembles, when he sees\n The weakest saint upon his knees.\n\n 4 Have you no words? Ah, think again;\n Words flow apace when we complain,\n And fill a fellow-creature's ear\n With the sad tale of all our care.\n\n 5 Were half the breath thus vainly spent,\n To heaven in supplication sent,\n Our cheerful song would oftener be,\n \"Hear what the Lord has done for me!\"\n\n\n557 L. M.\n They that believe do enter into rest.\n Heb. 4:3.\n\n My only Saviour! when I feel\n O'erwhelmed in spirit, faint, oppressed,\n 'Tis sweet to tell thee, while I kneel\n Low at thy feet, thou art my rest.\n\n 2 I'm weary of the strife within;\n Strong powers against my soul contest;\n O, let me turn from self and sin,\n To thy dear cross, for there is rest!\n\n 3 O! sweet will be the welcome day,\n When from her toils and woes released,\n My parting soul in death shall say,\n \"Now, Lord! I come to thee for rest.\"\n\n\n558 C. M.\n Prayer for contentment.\n\n Father, whate'er of earthly bliss\n Thy sovereign will denies,\n Accepted at thy throne of grace,\n Let this petition rise:\n\n 2 Give me a calm, a thankful heart,\n From every murmur free;\n The blessings of thy grace impart,\n And make me live to thee.\n\n 3 Let the sweet hope that thou art mine,\n My life, and death attend;\n Thy presence through my journey shine,\n And crown my journey's end.\n\n\n559 C. M.\n Tempest-tossed.\n\n O Jesus, Saviour of the lost,\n My Rock and Hiding-place,\n By storms of sin and sorrow tost,\n I seek thy sheltering grace.\n\n 2 Guilty, forgive me, Lord! I cry;\n Pursued by foes, I come;\n A sinner, save me, or I die;\n An outcast, take me home.\n\n 3 Once safe in thine almighty arms,\n Let storms come on amain;\n There danger never, never harms;\n There death itself is gain.\n\n 4 And when I stand before thy throne\n And all thy glory see,\n Still be my righteousness alone\n To hide myself in thee.\n\n\n560 C. M.\n Thy will be done.\n\n How sweet to be allowed to pray\n To God, the Holy One;\n With filial love and trust to say,\n \"O God, thy will be done.\"\n\n 2 We in these sacred words can find\n A cure for every ill;\n They calm and soothe the troubled mind,\n And bid all care be still.\n\n 3 O let that Will which gave me breath,\n And an immortal soul,\n In joy or grief, in life or death,\n My every wish control.\n\n 4 O, could my heart thus ever pray,\n Thus imitate thy Son!\n Teach me, O God, with truth to say,\n Thy will, not mine, be done.\n\n\n561 C. M.\n Sanctify the Lord God in your hearts.\n 1 Pet 3:15.\n\n While thee I seek, protecting Power,\n Be my vain wishes stilled;\n And may this consecrated hour\n With better hopes be filled.\n\n 2 Thy love the power of thought bestowed;\n To thee my thoughts would soar;\n Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed;\n That mercy I adore.\n\n 3 In each event of life, how clear\n Thy ruling hand I see!\n Each blessing to my soul more dear,\n Because conferred by thee.\n\n 4 In every joy that crowns my days,\n In every pain I bear,\n My heart shall find delight in praise,\n Or seek relief in prayer.\n\n 5 When gladness wings my favored hour,\n Thy love my thoughts shall fill;\n Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower,\n My soul shall meet thy will.\n\n 6 My lifted eye, without a tear,\n The gathering storm shall see;\n My steadfast heart shall banish fear;\n That heart shall rest on thee.\n\n\n562 C. M.\n Retirement and meditation.\n\n I love to steal awhile away\n From every cumbering care,\n And spend the hours of setting day\n In humble, grateful prayer.\n\n 2 I love in solitude to shed\n The penitential tear;\n And all his promises to plead,\n Where none but God can hear.\n\n 3 I love to think on mercies past,\n And future good implore,\n And all my cares and sorrows cast\n On him whom I adore.\n\n 4 I love, by faith, to take a view\n Of brighter scenes in heaven;\n The prospect doth my strength renew,\n While here by tempests driven.\n\n 5 Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er,\n May its departing ray\n Be calm as this impressive hour,\n And lead to endless day.\n\n\n563 C. M.\n My Saviour died for me.\n\n Thou art my hiding-place, O Lord,\n In thee I fix my trust,\n Encouraged by thy holy word,\n A feeble child of dust.\n\n 2 I have no argument beside,\n I urge no other plea,\n And 'tis enough--the Saviour died,\n The Saviour died for me.\n\n 3 When storms of fierce temptation beat,\n And furious foes assail,\n My refuge is the mercy-seat,\n My hope within the vail.\n\n 4 From strife of tongues and bitter words,\n My spirit flies to thee;\n Joy to my heart the thought affords--\n My Saviour died for me.\n\n 5 And when thy awful voice commands\n This body to decay,\n And life, in its last lingering sands,\n Is ebbing fast away--\n\n 6 Then, though it be in accents weak,\n My voice shall call on thee,\n And ask for strength in death to speak--\n \"My Saviour died for me.\"\n\n\n564 C. M.\n Let us draw near.\n Heb. 10:22.\n\n Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat,\n Where Jesus answers prayer;\n There humbly fall before his feet,\n For none can perish there.\n\n 2 Thy promise is my only plea,\n With this I venture nigh;\n Thou callest burdened souls to thee,\n And such, O Lord, am I.\n\n 3 Bowed down beneath a load of sin,\n By Satan sorely pressed,\n By war without, and fear within,\n I come to thee for rest.\n\n 4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place;\n That, sheltered near thy side,\n I may my fierce accuser face,\n And tell him, \"Thou hast died.\"\n\n 5 O, wondrous love, to bleed and die,\n To bear the cross and shame,\n That guilty sinners, such as I,\n Might plead thy gracious name!\n\n\n565 C. M.\n Prayer.\n\n Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,\n Unuttered or expressed;\n The motion of a hidden fire\n That trembles in the breast.\n\n 2 Prayer is the burden of a sigh,\n The falling of a tear;\n The upward glancing of an eye\n When none but God is near.\n\n 3 Prayer is the simplest form of speech\n That infant lips can try;\n Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach\n The Majesty on high.\n\n 4 Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,\n Returning from his ways,\n While angels in their songs rejoice,\n And say--\"Behold he prays.\"\n\n 5 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,\n The Christian's native air,\n His watchword at the gate of death;\n He enters heaven with prayer.\n\n\n566 C. M.\n Filled with all the fullness of God.\n\n O Lord, I would delight in thee,\n And on thy care depend;\n To thee in every trouble flee,\n My best, my only Friend.\n\n 2 When all created streams are dried,\n Thy fullness is the same;\n May I with this be satisfied,\n And glory in thy name!\n\n 3 No good in creatures can be found,\n But what is found in thee:\n I must have all things and abound\n While God is God to me.\n\n 4 O that I had a stronger faith,\n To look within the vail--\n To credit what my Saviour saith,\n Whose word can never fail.\n\n 5 He who has made my heaven secure,\n Will here all good provide:\n While Christ is rich, can I be poor?\n What can I want beside?\n\n 6 O Lord, I cast my care on thee;\n I triumph and adore:\n Henceforth my great concern shall be\n To love and please thee more.\n\n\n567 S. M.\n Ask and it shall be given you.\n Luke 11:9.\n\n Jesus, my strength, my hope,\n On thee I cast my care,\n With humble confidence look up,\n And know thou hearest my prayer.\n\n 2 Give me on thee to wait\n Till I can all things do;\n On thee, almighty to create,\n Almighty to renew.\n\n 3 I want a sober mind,\n A self-renouncing will,\n That tramples down, and casts behind,\n The baits of pleasing ill;\n\n 4 A soul inured to pain,\n To hardships, grief, and loss;\n Bold to take up, firm to sustain\n The consecrated cross;\n\n 5 I want a godly fear,\n A quick-discerning eye,\n That looks to thee when sin is near,\n And sees the tempter fly;\n\n 6 A spirit still prepared,\n And armed with jealous care,\n For ever standing on its guard,\n And watching unto prayer.\n\n\n568 S. M. D.\n Opening prayer meeting.\n\n It is the hour of prayer:\n Draw near and bend the knee,\n And fill the calm and holy air\n With voice of melody!\n O'erwearied with the heat\n And burden of the day,\n Now let us rest our wandering feet,\n And gather here to pray.\n\n 2 O, blessed is the hour\n That lifts our hearts on high!\n Like sunlight when the tempests lower,\n Prayer to the soul is nigh;\n Though dark may be our lot,\n Our eyes be dim with care,\n These saddening thoughts shall trouble not\n This holy hour of prayer.\n\n\n569 C. H. M.\n Come, let us pray.\n\n Come, let us pray; 'tis sweet to feel\n That God himself is near;\n That while we at his footstool kneel,\n His mercy deigns to hear:\n Though sorrows cloud life's dreary way,\n This is our solace--let us pray.\n\n 2 Come, let us pray: the burning brow,\n The heart oppressed with care,\n And all the woes that throng us now,\n Will be relieved by prayer:\n Jesus will smile our griefs away;\n O, glorious thought!--come! let us pray.\n\n 3 Come, let us pray: the mercy-seat\n Invites the fervent prayer,\n And Jesus ready stands to greet\n The contrite spirit there:\n O, loiter not, nor longer stay\n From him who loves us; let us pray.\n\n\n570 S. M.\n Invitation to prayer.\n\n Come to the house of prayer,\n O thou afflicted, come;\n The God of peace shall meet thee there;\n He makes that house his home.\n\n 2 Come to the house of praise,\n Ye who are happy now;\n In sweet accord your voices raise,\n In kindred homage bow.\n\n 3 Ye aged, hither come,\n For you have felt his love;\n Soon shall your trembling tongues be dumb,\n Your lips forget to move.\n\n 4 Ye young, before his throne\n Come, bow; your voices raise;\n Let not your hearts his praise disown\n Who gives the power to praise.\n\n 5 Thou, whose benignant eye\n In mercy looks on all--\n Who seest the tear of misery,\n And hearest the mourner's call--\n\n 6 Up to thy dwelling-place\n Bear our frail spirits on,\n Till they outstrip time's tardy pace,\n And heaven on earth be won.\n\n\n571 7s, 6 lines.\n Heavenly places.\n\n If 'tis sweet to mingle where\n Christians meet for social prayer;\n If 'tis sweet with them to raise\n Songs of holy joy and praise--\n Passing sweet that state must be,\n Where they meet eternally.\n\n 2 Saviour, may these meetings prove\n Antepasts to that above;\n While we worship in this place,\n May we go from grace to grace,\n Till we each, in his degree,\n Fit for endless glory be.\n\n\n572 7s.\n Deliver us from evil.\n\n Heavenly Father! to whose eye\n Future things unfolded lie;\n Through the desert when I stray\n Let thy counsels guide my way.\n\n 2 Lord! uphold me day by day;\n Shed a light upon my way;\n Guide me through perplexing snares,\n Care for me in all my cares.\n\n 3 Should thy wisdom, Lord, decree\n Trials long and sharp for me,\n Pain, or sorrow, care or shame--\n Father! glorify thy name.\n\n 4 Let me neither faint nor fear,\n Feeling still that thou art near;\n In the course my Saviour trod,\n Tending home to thee, my God.\n\n\n573 7s.\n God is present everywhere.\n\n They who seek the throne of grace\n Find that throne in every place;\n If we live a life of prayer,\n God is present everywhere.\n\n 2 In our sickness and our health,\n In our want, or in our wealth,\n If we look to God in prayer,\n God is present everywhere.\n\n 3 When our earthly comforts fail,\n When the woes of life prevail,\n 'Tis the time for earnest prayer;\n God is present everywhere.\n\n 4 Then, my soul, in every strait,\n To thy Father come, and wait;\n He will answer every prayer;\n God is present everywhere.\n\n\n574 7s.\n Lift the heart, and bend the knee.\n\n Child, amid the flowers at play,\n While the red light fades away;\n Mother, with thine earnest eye\n Ever following silently;\n\n 2 Father, by the breeze of eve,\n Called thy daily toil to leave;\n Pray! ere yet the dark hours be,\n Lift the heart, and bend the knee!\n\n 3 Traveler in the stranger's land,\n Far from thine own household band;\n Mourner, haunted by the tone\n Of a voice from this world gone;\n\n 4 Captive, in whose narrow cell\n Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;\n Sailor, on the darkening sea,\n Lift the heart, and bend the knee!\n\n 5 Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,\n Kindred by one holy tie,\n Heaven's first star alike ye see;\n Lift the heart, and bend the knee!\n\n\n575 7s.\n Lead me, O Lord.\n\n Shepherd of thy little flock,\n Lead me to the shadowing rock,\n Where the richest pasture grows;\n Where the living water flows;\n\n 2 By that pure and silent stream,\n Sheltered from the scorching beam;\n Shepherd, Saviour, Guardian, Guide,\n Keep me ever near thy side.\n\n\n576 7s, 6 lines.\n Draw near with a true heart.\n Heb. 10:22.\n\n Holy Lord, our hearts prepare\n For the solemn work of prayer;\n Grant that while we bend the knee,\n All our thoughts may turn to thee;\n Let thy presence here be found,\n Breathing peace and joy around.\n\n 2 Lord, when we approach thy throne,\n Make thy power and glory known:\n Thus may we be taught to call\n Humbly on the Lord of all,\n And with reverence and fear,\n At thy footstool to appear.\n\n 3 Teach us, as we breathe our woes,\n On thy promise to repose;\n All thy tender love to trace\n In the Saviour's work of grace;\n And with confidence depend\n On a gracious God and Friend.\n\n\n577 7s.\n The Lord make his face shine upon thee.\n Num. 6:25.\n\n Stealing from the world away,\n We are come to seek thy face;\n Kindly meet us, Lord, we pray,\n Grant us thy reviving grace.\n\n 2 Yonder stars that gild the sky,\n Shine but with a borrowed light:\n We, unless thy light be nigh,\n Wander, wrapt in gloomy night.\n\n 3 Sun of Righteousness! dispel\n All our darkness, doubts and fears;\n May thy light within us dwell,\n Till eternal day appears.\n\n\n578 7s, double.\n Hear us when to thee we cry.\n\n Saviour, when in dust to thee\n Low we bow th' adoring knee:\n When repentant, to the skies\n Scarce we lift our streaming eyes;\n O, by all thy pains and woe,\n Suffered once for man below,\n Bending from thy throne on high,\n Hear us when to thee we cry.\n\n 2 By thy birth and early years,\n By thy human griefs and fears,\n By thy fasting and distress\n In the lonely wilderness;\n By thy victory in the hour\n Of the subtle tempter's power;\n Jesus look with pitying eye,\n Hear our humble, earnest cry.\n\n 3 By thine hour of dark despair,\n By thine agony of prayer,\n By thy purple robe of scorn,\n By thy wounds, thy crown of thorn,\n By thy cross, thy pangs and cries,\n By thy perfect sacrifice;\n Jesus, look with pitying eye,\n Listen to our humble cry.\n\n 4 By thy deep expiring groan,\n By thy sealed sepulchral stone,\n By thy triumph o'er the grave,\n By thy power from death to save:\n Dying, risen, ascended, Lord,\n To thy throne in heaven restored,\n Bending from thy throne on high,\n Hear us when to thee we cry.\n\n\n579 7s & 6s.\n Evening, and morning, etc.\n Psalm 55:17.\n\n Go, when the morning shineth,\n Go, when the moon is bright,\n Go, when the eve declineth,\n Go, in the hush of night;\n Go with pure mind and feeling,\n Put earthly thoughts away,\n And in God's presence kneeling,\n Do thou in secret pray.\n\n 2 Remember all who love thee,\n All who are loved by thee;\n Pray, too, for those who hate thee,\n If any such there be;\n Then for thyself, in meekness,\n A blessing humbly claim;\n And blend with each petition\n Thy great Redeemer's name.\n\n 3 Or, if 'tis e'er denied thee\n In solitude to pray,\n Should holy thoughts come o'er thee,\n When friends are round thy way,\n E'en then, the silent breathing\n Thy spirit lifts above,\n Will reach his throne of glory,\n Where dwells eternal love.\n\n\n580 6s & 5s.\n After this manner pray ye.\n Matt. 6:9.\n\n Our Father in heaven,\n We hallow thy name!\n May thy kingdom holy\n On earth be the same!\n O give to us daily,\n Our portion of bread;\n It is from thy bounty\n That all must be fed.\n\n 2 Forgive our transgressions,\n And teach us to know\n That humble compassion\n That pardons each foe;\n Keep us from temptation,\n From weakness and sin,\n And thine be the glory\n For ever--Amen!\n\n\n581 8s & 4s.\n The hour of prayer.\n\n My God! is any hour so sweet,\n From blush of morn to evening star,\n As that which calls me to thy feet--\n The hour of prayer?\n\n 2 Blest is the tranquil hour of morn,\n And blest that hour of solemn eve,\n When, on the wings of prayer up-borne,\n The world I leave.\n\n 3 Then is my strength by thee renewed;\n Then are my sins by thee forgiven;\n Then dost thou cheer my solitude\n With hopes of heaven.\n\n 4 No words can tell what sweet relief\n There for my every want I find;\n What strength for warfare, balm for grief,\n What peace of mind!\n\n 5 Hushed is each doubt, gone every fear;\n My spirit seems in heaven to stay;\n And e'en the penitential tear\n Is wiped away.\n\n 6 Lord! till I reach that blissful shore,\n No privilege so dear shall be\n As thus my inmost soul to pour\n In prayer to thee.\n\n\n582 C. P. M.\n Casting all your care upon him.\n 1 Pet. 5:7.\n\n O Lord! how happy should we be,\n If we could leave our cares to thee,\n If we from self could rest,\n And feel at heart that One above,\n In perfect wisdom, perfect love,\n Is working for the best.\n\n 2 For when we kneel and cast our care\n Upon our God in humble prayer,\n With strengthened souls we rise;\n Sure that our Father, who is nigh\n To hear the ravens when they cry,\n Will hear his children's cries.\n\n 3 O! would these restless hearts of ours\n The lesson learn from birds and flowers,\n And learn from self to cease;\n Leave all things to our Father's will,\n And in his mercy trusting still,\n Find in each trial, peace.\n\n\n583 11s.\n Faint, yet pursuing.\n Judges 8:4.\n\n Though faint, yet pursuing, we go on our way;\n The Lord is our Leader, his Word is our stay;\n Though suffering, and sorrow, and trial, be near,\n The Lord is our refuge, and whom can we fear?\n\n 2 He raiseth the fallen, he cheereth the faint;\n The weak and oppressed, he will hear their complaint;\n The way may be weary, and thorny the road,\n But how can we falter? our help is in God.\n\n 3 And to his green pastures our footsteps he leads;\n His flock in the desert, how kindly he feeds!\n The lambs in his bosom he tenderly bears,\n And brings back the wanderers all safe from the snares.\n\n 4 Though clouds may surround us, our God is our light;\n Though storms rage around us, our God is our might;\n So faint, yet pursuing, still onward we come;\n The Lord is our Leader, and heaven is our home.\n\n\n584 11s & 10s.\n For divine strength.\n\n Father, in thy mysterious presence kneeling,\n Fain would our souls feel all thy kindling love,\n For we are weak, and need some deep revealing\n Of trust, and strength, and calmness, from above.\n\n 2 Lord, we have wandered forth thro' doubt and sorrow,\n And thou hast made each step an onward one;\n And we will ever trust each unknown morrow--\n Thou wilt sustain us till its work is done.\n\n 3 In the heart's depths, a peace serene and holy\n Abides, and when pain seems to have her will,\n Or we despair--O may that peace rise slowly,\n Stronger than agony, and we be still.\n\n 4 Now, Father, now, in thy dear presence kneeling,\n Our spirits yearn to feel thy kindling love:\n Now make us strong, we need thy deep revealing\n Of trust, and strength, and calmness, from above.\n\n\n585 11s.\n The house of prayer.\n\n How honored, how dear, is that sacred abode,\n Where Christians draw near to their Father and God:\n 'Mid worldly commotion my wearied soul faints\n For the house of devotion, the home of thy saints.\n\n 2 Thou hearer of prayer, O still grant me a place\n Where Christians repair to the courts of thy grace,\n More blest beyond measure one day so employed,\n Than years of vain pleasure by worldlings enjoyed.\n\n 3 Me more would it please keeping post at thy gate,\n Than lying at ease in the chambers of state;\n The meanest condition outshines with thy smiles,\n The pomp of ambition, the world with its wiles.\n\n 4 The Lord is a Sun, and the Lord is a Shield:\n What grace has begun, will with glory be sealed;\n He hears the distressed, he succors the just,\n And they shall be blessed who make him their trust.\n\n\n586 11s & 10s.\n Come ye disconsolate.\n\n Come, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,\n Come, at the shrine of God fervently kneel;\n Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;\n Earth has no sorrow that heaven can not heal.\n\n 2 Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,\n Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!\n Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,\n Earth has no sorrow that heaven can not cure.\n\n 3 Here see the bread of life; see waters flowing\n Forth from the throne of God, pure from above:\n Come to the feast of love; come, ever-knowing,\n Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.\n\n\n587 P. M.\n Hear, Father, hear our prayer.\n\n Hear, Father, hear our prayer!\n Thou who art pity where sorrow prevaileth,\n Thou who art safety when mortal help faileth,\n Strength to the feeble and hope to despair,\n Hear, Father, hear our prayer!\n\n 2 Hear, Father, hear our prayer!\n Wandering alone in the land of the stranger,\n Be with all travelers in sickness or danger,\n Guard thou their path, guide their feet from the snare:\n Hear, Father, hear our prayer!\n\n 3 Hear thou the poor that cry!\n Feed thou the hungry and lighten their sorrow,\n Grant them the sunshine of hope for the morrow;\n They are thy children, their trust is on high:\n Hear thou the poor that cry!\n\n 4 Dry thou the mourner's tear!\n Heal thou the wounds of time-hallowed affection;\n Grant to the widow and orphan protection;\n Be, in their trouble, a friend ever near;\n Dry thou the mourner's tear!\n\n 5 Hear, Father, hear our prayer!\n Long hath thy goodness our footsteps attended;\n Be with the pilgrim whose journey is ended:\n When at thy summons for death we prepare,\n Hear, Father, hear our prayer!\n\n\n588 11s & 5.\n Prayer of the contrite.\n\n From the recesses of a lowly spirit,\n Our humble prayer ascends; O Father! hear it,\n Upsoaring on the wings of awe and meekness;\n Forgive its weakness!\n\n 2 We see thy hand: it leads us, it supports us;\n We hear thy voice: it counsels and it courts us:\n And then we turn away; and still thy kindness\n Forgives our blindness.\n\n 3 O, how long-suffering, Lord! but thou delightest\n To win with love the wandering; thou invitest,\n By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,\n Man from his errors.\n\n 4 Father and Saviour! plant within each bosom\n The seeds of holiness, and bid them blossom\n In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,\n And spring eternal.\n\n\n589 11s & 10s.\n Strengthened with might, etc.\n Eph 3:16.\n\n Father, to us thy children, humbly kneeling,\n Conscious of weakness, ignorance, sin and shame,\n Give such a force of holy thought and feeling,\n That we may live to glorify thy name;\n\n 2 That we may conquer base desire and passion,\n That we may rise from selfish thought and will,\n O'ercome the world's allurement, threat and fashion,\n Walk humbly, gently, leaning on thee still.\n\n 3 Let all thy loving kindness which attends us,\n Let all thy mercy on our souls be sealed;\n Lord, if thou wilt, thy saving power can cleanse us;\n O, speak the word! thy servants shall be healed.\n\n\n590 P. M.\n Lead thou me on.\n\n Shed kindly light amid the encircling gloom,\n And lead me on!\n The night is dark, and I am far from home,\n Lead thou me on!\n Keep thou my feet: I do not ask to see\n The distant scene: one step enough for me.\n\n 2 I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou\n Shouldst lead me on!\n I loved to choose and see my path; but now,\n Lead thou me on!\n I loved day's dazzling light, and spite of fears\n Pride ruled my will: remember not past years!\n\n 3 So long thy power hath blessed me, surely still\n 'Twill lead me on!\n Through dreary doubt, through pain and sorrow, till\n The night is gone!\n And with the morn those angel faces smile\n Which I have loved long since and lost awhile.\n\n\n\n\n ITS GROWTH AND FUTURE TRIUMPHS.\n\n\n591 L. M.\n Put on thy strength, O Zion.\n Isaiah 52:1.\n\n Triumphant Zion! lift thy head\n From dust, and darkness, and the dead!\n Though humbled long--awake at length,\n And gird thee with thy Saviour's strength.\n\n 2 Put all thy beauteous garments on,\n And let thy excellence be known;\n Decked in the robes of righteousness,\n The world thy glories shall confess.\n\n 3 No more shall foes unclean invade,\n And fill thy hallowed walls with dread:\n No more shall hell's insulting host\n Their victory and thy sorrows boast.\n\n 4 God, from on high, has heard thy prayer;\n His hand thy ruins shall repair;\n Nor will thy watchful Monarch cease\n To guard thee in eternal peace.\n\n\n592 L. M.\n All nations shall serve him.\n Psalm 72:11.\n\n Eternal Lord! from land to land\n Shall echo thine all-glorious name,\n Till kingdoms bow at thy command,\n And every lip thy praise proclaim.\n\n 2 Exalted high, on every shore,\n The banner of the cross unfurled,\n Shall summon thousands to adore\n The Saviour of a ransomed world.\n\n 3 Thousands shall join thy pilgrim band,\n And, by that sacred standard led,\n Press forward to Immanuel's land,\n Nor fear the thorny path to tread.\n\n 4 Triumphant over every foe,\n Their ransomed hosts shall move along\n To that blest world, where sin and woe\n Shall never mingle with their song.\n\n\n593 L. M.\n Put on thy beautiful garments.\n Isaiah 52:1.\n\n Zion, awake! thy strength renew;\n Put on thy robes of beauteous hue;\n Church of our God, arise and shine,\n Bright with the beams of truth divine.\n\n 2 Soon shall thy radiance stream afar,\n Wide as the heathen nations are;\n Gentiles and kings thy light shall view;\n All shall admire and love thee too.\n\n\n594 C. M.\n Zion's prospects.\n\n Let Zion and her sons rejoice;\n Behold the promised hour;\n Her God hath heard her mourning voice,\n And comes t' exalt his power.\n\n 2 Her dust and ruins, that remain,\n Are precious in his eyes;\n Those ruins shall be built again,\n And all that dust shall rise.\n\n 3 The Lord will raise Jerusalem,\n And stand in glory there;\n All nations bow before his name,\n And kings attend with fear.\n\n 4 He frees the soul condemned to death;\n Nor, when his saints complain,\n Shall it be said that praying breath\n Was ever spent in vain.\n\n 5 This shall be known when we are dead,\n And left on long record,\n That ages yet unborn may read\n And praise and trust the Lord.\n\n\n595 C. M.\n Isaiah 62.\n\n For Zion's sake I will not rest,\n I will not hold my peace\n Until Jerusalem be blest,\n And Judah dwell at ease;\n\n 2 Until her righteousness return,\n As daybreak after night--\n The lamp of her salvation burn\n With everlasting light.\n\n 3 The Gentiles shall her glory see,\n And kings declare her fame;\n Appointed unto her shall be\n A new and holy name.\n\n 4 The watchmen on her walls appear,\n And day and night proclaim,\n \"Zion's Deliverer is near;\n Make mention of his name.\"\n\n 5 Go through, go through, prepare the way,\n The gates wide open fling;\n With loudest voice let heralds say,\n \"Behold thy coming King.\"\n\n\n596 C. M.\n Christ's Church.\n Canticles 6:10.\n\n Say, who is she that looks abroad\n Like the sweet, blushing dawn,\n When with her living light she paints\n The dew-drops of the lawn?\n\n 2 Fair as the moon when in the skies\n Serene her throne she guides,\n And o'er the twinkling stars supreme\n In full orbed glory rides;\n\n 3 Clear as the sun, when from the east,\n Without a cloud he springs,\n And scatters boundless light and heat,\n From his resplendent wings.\n\n 4 Tremendous as a host that moves\n Majestically slow,\n With banners wide displayed, all armed,\n And fearless of the foe!\n\n 5 This is the church by heaven arrayed\n With strength and grace divine;\n Thus shall she strike her foes with dread,\n And thus her glories shine.\n\n\n597 C. M.\n All nations shall flow unto it.\n Isaiah 2:2.\n\n Behold the mountain of the Lord\n In latter days shall rise,\n On mountain tops above the hills,\n And draw the wondering eyes.\n\n 2 To this the joyful nations round,\n All tribes and tongues shall flow;\n Up to the hill of God, they'll say,\n And to his house we'll go!\n\n 3 The beam that shines from Zion hill\n Shall lighten every land!\n The King who reigns in Salem's towers,\n Shall all the world command.\n\n 4 No strife shall vex Messiah's reign,\n Or mar the peaceful years,\n To plowshares men shall beat their swords,\n To pruning-hooks their spears.\n\n 5 No longer hosts encountering hosts,\n Their millions slain deplore;\n They hang the trumpet in the hall,\n And study war no more.\n\n 6 Come, then--O come from every land,\n To worship at his shrine;\n And, walking in the light of God,\n With holy beauties shine.\n\n\n598 P. M.\n We look for thine appearing.\n\n Come, O thou mighty Saviour,\n We look for thine appearing;\n Descend, we pray,\n Thy love display,\n Our waiting spirits cheering.\n\n 2 Come, clothed with glorious power;\n Let all thy saints adore thee,\n And let thy word,\n The Spirit's sword,\n Subdue thy foes before thee.\n\n 3 May every heart with gladness,\n Thine offered grace receiving,\n Now cease from sin,\n And pure within,\n Have peace, in thee believing.\n\n 4 Then, when thou comest to judgment,\n On flying clouds descending,\n May we rejoice\n When, at thy voice,\n The solid earth is rending.\n\n\n599 7s.\n I, the Lord, will hasten it in his time.\n Isaiah 60:22.\n\n Hasten, Lord! the glorious time,\n When, beneath Messiah's sway,\n Every nation, every clime,\n Shall the gospel call obey.\n\n 2 Mightiest kings his power shall own,\n Heathen tribes his name adore;\n Satan and his host, o'erthrown,\n Bound in chains shall hurt no more.\n\n 3 Then shall wars and tumults cease,\n Then be banished grief and pain;\n Righteousness, and joy, and peace,\n Undisturbed shall ever reign.\n\n 4 Bless we, then, our gracious Lord!\n Ever praise his glorious name;\n All his mighty acts record,\n All his wondrous love proclaim.\n\n\n600 7s, double.\n Rev. 19:6.\n\n Hark! the song of Jubilee,\n Loud as mighty thunders roar,\n Or the fullness of the sea,\n When it breaks upon the shore!\n Hallelujah! for the Lord\n God omnipotent, shall reign!\n Hallelujah! let the word\n Echo round the earth and main.\n\n 2 Hallelujah! hark, the sound,\n From the depths unto the skies,\n Wakes above, beneath, around,\n All creation's harmonies!\n See Jehovah's banner furled,\n Sheathed his sword; he speaks--'tis done!\n And the kingdoms of this world\n Are the kingdoms of his Son!\n\n 3 He shall reign from pole to pole,\n With illimitable sway;\n He shall reign, when like a scroll\n Yonder heavens have passed away.\n Then the end: beneath his rod\n Man's last enemy shall fall:\n Hallelujah! Christ in God,\n God in Christ, is all in all!\n\n\n601 8s & 7s.\n Future peace and glory of the church.\n\n Hear what God, the Lord, hath spoken:\n O my people, faint and few,\n Comfortless, afflicted, broken,\n Fair abodes I build for you;\n Scenes of heartfelt tribulation\n Shall no more perplex your ways;\n You shall name your walls salvation,\n And your gates shall all be praise.\n\n 2 There, like streams that feed the garden,\n Pleasures without end shall flow;\n For the Lord, your faith rewarding,\n All his bounty shall bestow;\n Still in undisturbed possession\n Peace and righteousness shall reign;\n Never shall you feel oppression,\n Hear the voice of war again.\n\n 3 You, no more your suns descending,\n Waning moons no more shall see;\n But, your griefs for ever ending,\n Find eternal noon in me;\n God shall rise, and shining o'er you,\n Change to day the gloom of night;\n He, the Lord, shall be your glory,\n God your everlasting light.\n\n\n602 8s, 7s & 4s.\n The day-spring.\n Luke 1:78.\n\n Christian! see! the orient morning\n Breaks along the heathen sky;\n Lo! the expected day is dawning--\n Glorious day-spring from on high;\n Hallelujah!--\n Hail the day-spring from on high!\n\n 2 Heathens at the sight are singing;\n Morning wakes the tuneful lays;\n Precious offerings they are bringing--\n First-fruits of more perfect praise;\n Hallelujah!--\n Hail the day-spring from on high!\n\n 3 Zion's Sun--salvation beaming--\n Gilding now the radiant hills--\n Rise and shine, till brighter gleaming,\n All the world thy glory fills;\n Hallelujah!--\n Hail the day-spring from on high!\n\n 4 Lord of every tribe and nation!\n Spread thy truth from pole to pole;\n Spread the light of thy salvation\n Till it shine on every soul;\n Hallelujah!--\n Hail the day-spring from on high!\n\n\n603 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Encouraging prospects.\n\n Yes, we trust the day is breaking;\n Joyful times are near at hand;\n God, the mighty God, is speaking,\n By his word, in every land:\n When he chooses,\n Darkness flies at his command.\n\n 2 While the foe becomes more daring,\n While he enters like a flood,\n God, the Saviour, is preparing\n Means to spread his truth abroad:\n Every language\n Soon shall tell the love of God.\n\n 3 O, 'tis pleasant, 'tis reviving\n To our hearts, to hear, each day,\n Joyful news, from far arriving,\n How the gospel wins its way;\n Those enlightening\n Who in death and darkness lay.\n\n 4 God of Jacob, high and glorious,\n Let thy people see thy hand;\n Let the gospel be victorious,\n Through the world, in every land;\n Then shall idols\n Perish, Lord, at thy command.\n\n\n604 8s, 7s & 4s.\n How beautiful on the mountains.\n Isaiah 52:7.\n\n In the mountain's top appearing,\n Lo! the sacred herald stands,\n Welcome news to Zion is bearing--\n Zion long in hostile lands:\n Mourning captive,\n God himself will loose thy bands.\n\n 2 Has thy night been long and mournful?\n Have thy friends unfaithful proved?\n Have thy foes been proud and scornful,\n By thy sighs and tears unmoved?\n Cease thy mourning;\n Zion still is well-beloved.\n\n 3 God, thy God, will now restore thee:\n He himself appears thy Friend;\n All thy foes shall flee before thee;\n Here their boasts and triumphs end:\n Great deliverance\n Zion's King will surely send.\n\n 4 Peace and joy shall now attend thee;\n All thy warfare now be past;\n God thy Saviour will defend thee;\n Victory is thine at last;\n All thy conflicts\n End in everlasting rest.\n\n\n605 11s.\n Awake, awake, O Zion.\n Isaiah 52:1.\n\n Daughter of Zion, awake from thy sadness;\n Awake, for thy foes shall oppress thee no more:\n Bright o'er the hills dawns the day-star of gladness,\n Arise, for the night of thy sorrow is o'er.\n\n 2 Strong were thy foes, but the arm that subdued them,\n And scattered their legions, was mightier far;\n They fled, like the chaff, from the scourge that pursued them,\n Vain were their steeds and their chariots of war.\n\n 3 Daughter of Zion, the power that hath saved thee,\n Extolled with the harp and the timbrel should be;\n Shout! for the foe is destroyed that enslaved thee,\n Th' oppressor is vanquished, and Zion is free.\n\n\n606 12s, 11s & 8s.\n In thy majesty, etc.\n Psalm 45:4.\n\n The Prince of Salvation in triumph is riding,\n And glory attends him along his bright way;\n The news of his grace on the breezes is gliding,\n And nations are owning his sway.\n\n 2 And now thro' the darkness of earth's gloomy regions,\n The wheels of his chariot are rolling sublime;\n His banners unfolding his own true religion,\n Dispelling the errors of time.\n\n 3 Behold a bright angel from heaven descending,\n High lifting his trumpet, hosannas to raise:\n \"Hail, Son of the Highest! let every knee bending,\n Adore thee with offerings of praise.\n\n 4 \"Thy sword and thy buckler shall save and deliver\n The poor and the needy, from foes that assail;\n Thy bow and thy quiver shall vanquish for ever\n The prince and the legions of hell.\n\n 5 \"Ride on in thy greatness, thou conquering Saviour;\n Let thousands of thousands submit to thy reign,\n Acknowledge thy goodness, entreat for thy favor,\n And follow thy glorious train.\n\n 6 \"Ride on, till the compass of thy great dominion,\n The globe shall encircle from pole unto pole;\n And mankind, cemented with friendship and union,\n Obey thee with heart and with soul.\n\n 7 \"Then loud shall ascend from each sanctified nation\n The voice of thanksgiving, the chorus of praise;\n And heaven shall echo the song of salvation,\n In rich and melodious lays.\"\n\n\n607 11s.\n Shout, inhabitant of Zion.\n Isaiah 12:6.\n\n Zion, the marvelous story be telling,\n The Son of the Highest, how lowly his birth!\n The brightest of angels in glory excelling,\n He stoops to redeem thee--he reigns upon earth,\n Shout the glad tidings! exultingly sing,\n Jerusalem triumphs! Messiah is King!\n\n 2 Tell how he cometh from nation to nation,\n The heart-cheering news let the earth echo round,\n How free to the sinner he offers salvation!\n How his people with joy everlasting are crowned!\n Shout the glad tidings! exultingly sing,\n Jerusalem triumphs! Messiah is King!\n\n 3 Mortals, your homage be gratefully bringing,\n And sweet let the gladsome hosanna arise;\n You angels, the full hallelujah be singing--\n One chorus resound thro' the earth and the skies!\n Shout the glad tidings! exultingly sing,\n Jerusalem triumphs! Messiah is King!\n\n\n608 11s & 10s.\n Hail to the brightness.\n\n Hail, to the brightness of Zion's glad morning!\n Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain;\n Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning,\n Zion in triumph begins her mild reign.\n\n 2 Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad morning,\n Long by the prophets of Israel foretold;\n Hail to the millions from bondage returning,\n Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold.\n\n 3 Lo! in the desert rich flowers are springing,\n Streams ever copious are gliding along;\n Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing,\n Wastes rise in verdure and mingle in song.\n\n 4 See, from all lands--from the isles of the ocean,\n Praise to Jehovah ascending on high;\n Fallen are the engines of war and commotion,\n Shouts of salvation are rending the sky.\n\n\n609 H. M.\n Gird on thy sword, O most mighty!\n Psalm 45:3.\n\n Gird on thy conquering sword,\n Ascend thy shining car,\n And march, almighty Lord!\n To wage thy holy war.\n Before his wheels, in glad surprise,\n Ye valleys, rise, and sink, ye hills.\n\n 2 Fair truth and smiling love,\n And injured righteousness,\n Under thy banners move,\n And seek from thee redress;\n Thou in thy cause shall prosperous ride,\n And far and wide dispense thy laws.\n\n 3 Before thine awful face\n Millions of foes shall fall,\n The captives of thy grace--\n The grace that captures all.\n The world shall know, great King of kings,\n What wondrous things thine arm can do.\n\n 4 Here to my willing soul\n Bend thy triumphant way;\n Here every foe control,\n And all thy power display;\n My heart, thy throne, blest Jesus! see,\n Bows low to thee, to thee alone.\n\n\n610 P. M.\n Joyful tidings.\n\n O let the joyful tidings fill the wide creation,\n Heirs of redeeming mercy spread the news around;\n Jesus, Immanuel, shall rule o'er every nation,\n Far as the guilty race of man is found.\n Now while the night of ages fills the world with sadness,\n Now while the prince of darkness rages in his madness;\n O, Sun of Righteousness, thy cheering beams display,\n Dawn on the earth, and bring the glorious day!\n\n 2 O Father, let thy blessing with thy saints abounding,\n Fill every breast with zeal, the gospel to proclaim;\n O sing Jerusalem, thy gates with joy surrounding,\n While distant isles rejoice in Jesus' name.\n Watchmen of Zion, sound aloud the note of warning,\n Till earth's benighted nations hail the glorious morning;\n O, Sun of Righteousness, thy cheering beams display,\n Dawn on the earth, and bring the glorious day!\n\n 3 Deep is the desolation of the race benighted\n Fast bound in ignorance, o'erwhelmed with guilt and fear;\n Folly and superstition every hope have blighted,\n Save where the rays of truth divine appear.\n Haste, haste, ye messengers, reveal the wondrous story,\n Tell of the cross, and of the coming tide of glory:\n Then, Sun of Righteousness, thy cheering beams display,\n Dawn on the earth, and bring the glorious day.\n\n\n\n\n PUBLIC WORSHIP--THE LORD'S DAY.\n\n\n611 L. M.\n It is a good thing to give thanks, etc.\n Psalm 92:1.\n\n Sweet is the work, my God! my King!\n To praise thy name, give thanks and sing;\n To show thy love by morning light,\n And talk of all thy truth at night.\n\n 2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest,\n No mortal care shall seize my breast;\n O! may my heart in tune be found,\n Like David's harp of solemn sound.\n\n 3 My heart shall triumph in the Lord,\n And bless his works, and bless his word;\n Thy works of grace, how bright they shine!\n How deep thy counsels! how divine.\n\n 4 Lord! I shall share a glorious part,\n When grace hath well refined my heart,\n And fresh supplies of joy are shed,\n Like holy oil, to cheer my head.\n\n 5 Then shall I see, and hear, and know\n All I desired or wished below:\n And every power find sweet employ,\n In that eternal world of joy.\n\n\n612 L. M.\n As it began to dawn.\n Matt 28:1.\n\n My opening eyes with rapture see\n The dawn of thy returning day;\n My thoughts, O God, ascend to thee,\n While thus my early vows I pay.\n\n 2 I yield my heart to thee alone,\n Nor would receive another guest:\n Eternal King, erect thy throne,\n And reign sole monarch in my breast.\n\n 3 O, bid this trifling world retire,\n And drive each carnal thought away;\n Nor let me feel one vain desire,\n One sinful thought through all the day.\n\n 4 Then, to thy courts when I repair,\n My soul shall rise on joyful wing,\n The wonders of thy love declare,\n And join the strains which angels sing.\n\n\n613 L. M.\n The Lord's day.\n\n O sacred day of peace and joy,\n Thy hours are ever dear to me;\n Ne'er may a sinful thought destroy\n The holy calm I find in thee.\n\n 2 Dear are thy peaceful hours to me,\n For God has given them in his love,\n To tell how calm, how blest shall be\n The endless day of heaven above.\n\n\n614 L. M.\n Christ is risen.\n\n Hail! morning known among the blest!\n Morning of hope, and joy, and love,\n Of heavenly peace and holy rest;\n Pledge of the endless rest above.\n\n 2 Blessed be the Father of our Lord,\n Who from the dead has brought his Son!\n Hope to the lost was then restored,\n And everlasting glory won.\n\n 3 Scarce morning twilight had begun\n To chase the shades of night away,\n When Christ arose--unsetting Sun--\n The dawn of joy's eternal day!\n\n 4 Mercy looked down with smiling eye\n When our Immanuel left the dead;\n Faith marked his bright ascent on high,\n And Hope with gladness raised her head.\n\n 5 God's goodness let us bear in mind,\n Who to his saints this day has given,\n For rest and serious joy designed,\n To fit us for the bliss of heaven.\n\n\n615 L. M.\n Lord's-day evening.\n\n Sweet is the fading light of eve;\n And soft the sunbeams lingering there;\n For these blest hours the world I leave,\n Wafted on wings of praise and prayer.\n\n 2 The time, how lovely and how still!\n Peace shines and smiles on all below:\n The plain, the stream, the wood, the hill,\n All fair with evening's setting glow.\n\n 3 Season of rest! the tranquil soul\n Feels the sweet calm, and melts to love,\n And while these sacred moments roll,\n Faith sees a smiling heaven above.\n\n 4 Nor will our days of toil be long;\n Our pilgrimage will soon be trod,\n And we shall join the ceaseless song,\n The endless sabbath of our God.\n\n\n616 L. M.\n Return unto thy rest, O my soul.\n Psalm 116:7.\n\n Another six days' work is done;\n Another day of rest begun,\n Return, my soul, enjoy the rest,\n Improve the day thy God hath blest.\n\n 2 O that our thoughts and thanks may rise,\n As grateful incense to the skies;\n And draw from heaven that sweet repose\n Which none but he that feels it knows.\n\n 3 This heavenly calm within the breast\n Is the dear pledge of glorious rest,\n Which for the Church of God remains,\n The end of cares, the end of pains.\n\n\n617 L. M.\n There remaineth a rest to the people of God.\n Heb. 4:9.\n\n Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love;\n But there's a nobler rest above;\n To that our laboring souls aspire,\n With ardent pangs of strong desire.\n\n 2 No more fatigue, no more distress,\n Nor sin nor death shall reach the place;\n No groans to mingle with the songs\n Which warble from immortal tongues.\n\n 3 No rude alarms of raging foes,\n No cares to break the long repose;\n No midnight shade, no clouded sun,\n But sacred, high, eternal noon.\n\n 4 O long-expected day, begin,\n Dawn on these realms of woe and sin;\n Fain would we leave this weary road,\n And sleep in death, to rest with God.\n\n\n618 C. M.\n This is the day which the Lord hath made.\n Psalm 118:24.\n\n Come, let us join with one accord\n In hymns around the throne;\n This is the day our risen Lord\n Hath made and called his own.\n\n 2 This is the day which God has blessed,\n The brightest of the seven,\n Type of the everlasting rest\n The saints enjoy in heaven.\n\n 3 Then let us in his name sing on,\n And hasten on that day,\n When our Redeemer shall come down,\n And shadows pass away.\n\n 4 Not one, but all our days below,\n Our hearts his praise employ;\n And in our Lord rejoicing go\n To his eternal joy.\n\n\n619 C. M.\n We will rejoice and be glad in it.\n Psalm 118:24.\n\n This is the day the Lord hath made,\n He calls the hours his own;\n Let heaven rejoice, let earth be glad,\n And praise surround the throne.\n\n 2 To-day he rose and left the dead,\n And Satan's empire fell;\n To-day the saints his triumphs spread,\n And all his wonders tell.\n\n 3 Hosanna to th' anointed King,\n To David's holy Son;\n Help us, O Lord--descend and bring\n Salvation from thy throne.\n\n 4 Blessed be the Lord who comes to men\n With messages of grace;\n Who comes in God his Father's name\n To save our sinful race.\n\n 5 Hosanna in the highest strains\n The church on earth can raise;\n The highest heavens in which he reigns,\n Shall give him nobler praise.\n\n\n620 C. M.\n I will praise thee with my whole heart.\n Psalm 9:1.\n\n O Father! though the anxious fear\n May cloud to-morrow's way,\n No fear nor doubt shall enter here;\n All shall be thine to-day.\n\n 2 We will not bring divided hearts\n To worship at thy shrine;\n But each unworthy thought departs,\n And leaves this temple thine.\n\n 3 Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares,\n Of earth and folly born;\n Ye shall not dim the light that streams\n From this celestial morn.\n\n\n621 C. M.\n Lev. 23:11, & 1 Cor. 15:20.\n\n This is the day the first ripe sheaf\n Before the Lord was waved,\n And Christ, first-fruits of them that slept,\n Was from the dead received.\n\n 2 He rose for them for whom he died,\n That, like to him, they may\n Rise when he comes, in glory great,\n That ne'er shall fade away.\n\n 3 This is the day the Spirit came\n With us on earth to stay--\n A Comforter, to fill our hearts\n With joys that ne'er decay.\n\n 4 His comforts are the earnest sure\n Of that same heavenly rest\n Which Jesus entered on, when he\n Was made for ever blest.\n\n 5 This day the Christian Church began,\n Formed by his wondrous grace;\n This day the saints in concord meet,\n To join in prayer and praise.\n\n\n622 C. M.\n He hath abolished death.\n 2 Tim. 1:10.\n\n The Saviour risen to-day we praise,\n In concert with the blest;\n For now we see his work complete,\n And enter into rest.\n\n 2 On this first day a brighter scene\n Of glory was displayed\n By the Creating Word, than when\n The universe was made.\n\n 3 He rises who mankind has bought\n With grief and pain extreme:\n 'Twas great to speak the world from nought,\n 'Twas greater to redeem.\n\n 4 How vain the stone, the watch, the seal!\n Nought can forbid his rise:\n 'Tis he who shuts the gates of hell,\n And opens Paradise.\n\n\n623 C. M.\n The type of endless rest.\n\n The the worn spirit wants repose,\n And sighs her God to seek,\n How sweet to hail the evening's close,\n That ends the weary week!\n\n 2 How sweet to hail the early dawn\n That opens on the sight,\n When first that soul-reviving morn\n Sheds forth new rays of light!\n\n 3 Sweet day! thine hours too soon will cease;\n Yet while they gently roll,\n Breathe, gracious Lord, thou source of peace,\n A Sabbath o'er my soul!\n\n 4 When will my pilgrimage be done,\n The world's long week be o'er:\n That Sabbath dawn, which needs no sun,\n That day, which fades no more!\n\n\n624 S. M.\n This is the Lord's doing.\n Psalm 118:23.\n\n This is the glorious day,\n That our Redeemer made;\n Let us rejoice, and sing, and pray,\n Let all the church be glad.\n\n 2 The work, O Lord, is thine,\n And wondrous in our eyes;\n This day declares it all divine,\n This day did Jesus rise.\n\n 3 Hosanna to the King,\n Of David's royal blood;\n Bless him, you saints, he comes to bring\n Salvation from your God.\n\n 4 We bless thy Holy Word,\n Which all this grace displays,\n And offer on thine altar, Lord,\n Our sacrifice of praise.\n\n\n625 S. M.\n The righteous doth sing and rejoice.\n Prov. 29:6.\n\n Sweet is the task, O Lord,\n Thy glorious acts to sing,\n To praise thy name, and hear thy word,\n And grateful offerings bring.\n\n 2 Sweet, at the dawning hour,\n Thy boundless love to tell;\n And when the night-wind shuts the flower,\n Still on the theme to dwell.\n\n 3 Sweet, on this day of rest,\n To join in heart and voice\n With those who love and serve thee best,\n And in thy name rejoice.\n\n 4 To songs of praise and joy,\n May all our days be given,\n That such may be our best employ\n Eternally in heaven.\n\n\n626 S. M.\n Welcome, sweet day of rest.\n\n Welcome, sweet day of rest,\n That saw the Lord arise;\n Welcome to this reviving breast,\n And these rejoicing eyes.\n\n 2 The King himself comes near,\n And feasts his saints to-day:\n Here may we sit and see him here,\n And love, and praise, and pray.\n\n 3 One day, amid the place\n Where Christ my Lord, hath been,\n Is sweeter than ten thousand days\n Within the tents of sin.\n\n 4 My willing soul would stay\n In such a frame as this,\n And sit and sing herself away\n To everlasting bliss.\n\n\n627 S. P. M.\n I was glad.\n Psalm 122:1.\n\n How pleased and blessed was I,\n To hear the people cry--\n \"Come, let us seek our God to-day!\"\n Yes, with a cheerful zeal,\n We haste to Zion's hill,\n And there our vows and honors pay.\n\n 2 Zion! thrice happy place,\n Adorned with wondrous grace\n And walls of strength embrace thee round;\n In thee our tribes appear,\n To pray, and praise, and hear\n The sacred gospel's joyful sound.\n\n 3 May peace attend thy gate,\n And joy within thee wait,\n To bless the soul of every guest:\n The man who seeks thy peace,\n And wishes thine increase--\n A thousand blessings on him rest!\n\n\n628 7s, double.\n Hail the day that saw him rise.\n\n Hail the day that saw him rise,\n Ravished from his people's eyes;\n Christ, awhile to mortals given,\n Re-ascends his native heaven.\n There the glorious triumph waits--\n \"Lift your heads, you heavenly gates;\n Wide unfold the radiant scene,\n Take the King of glory in.\"\n\n 2 He, whom highest heaven receives,\n Ever loves the friends he leaves;\n Though returning to his throne,\n Still he calls his saints his own;\n Still for us he intercedes,\n Prevalent his death he pleads;\n Near himself prepares a place,\n Harbinger of human race.\n\n 3 Taken from our eyes to-day,\n Master, hear us when we pray;\n See thy needy servants, see,\n Ever gazing up to thee:\n Grant, though parted from our sight,\n Far above yon azure hight,\n Grant our hearts may thither rise,\n Follow thee beyond the skies.\n\n 4 Ever upward let us move,\n Wafted on the wings of love;\n Looking when the Lord shall come,\n Longing, reaching after home;\n There for ever to remain,\n Partners of thy endless reign;\n There thy face unclouded see,\n Find our heaven of heavens in thee.\n\n\n629 7s, 6 lines.\n Springs in the desert.\n Isaiah 49:10.\n\n Safely through another week\n God has brought us on our way;\n Let us each a blessing seek,\n Waiting in his courts to-day:\n Day of all the week the best,\n Emblem of eternal rest.\n\n 2 While we seek supplies of grace\n Through the blest Redeemer's name,\n Show thy reconciling face,\n Take away our sin and shame:\n From our worldly care set free,\n May we rest this day in thee.\n\n 3 Here we come thy name to praise,\n Let us feel thy presence near;\n May thy glory meet our eyes,\n While we in thy house appear;\n Here afford us, Lord, a taste\n Of our everlasting rest.\n\n 4 May the gospel's joyful sound\n Conquer sinners--comfort saints:\n Make the fruits of grace abound,\n Bring relief to all complaints:\n Thus let all our worship prove,\n Till we join thy courts above.\n\n 5 Glory be to God on high--\n God, whose glory fills the sky;\n Glory to the Lamb be given--\n Glory in the highest heaven:\n Wisdom, riches, praise, and power,\n Be to God for evermore.\n\n\n630 H. M.\n The resurrection celebrated.\n\n Awake, ye saints, awake,\n And hail the sacred day;\n In loftiest songs of praise\n Your joyful homage pay;\n Come bless the day that God hath blest,\n The type of heaven's eternal rest.\n\n 2 On this auspicious morn\n The Lord of life arose,\n And burst the bars of death,\n And vanquished all our foes;\n And now he pleads our cause above,\n And reaps the fruit of all his love.\n\n 3 All hail, triumphant Lord!\n Heaven with hosannas rings;\n All earth, in humbler strains,\n Thy praise responsive sings;\n Worthy the Lamb that once was slain,\n Through endless years to live and reign.\n\n\n631 H. M.\n A day in thy courts, etc.\n Psalm 84:10.\n\n To spend one sacred day\n Where God and saints abide,\n Affords diviner joy\n Than thousand days beside:\n Where God resorts,\n I love it more\n To keep the door,\n Than shine in courts.\n\n 2 God is our sun and shield,\n Our light and our defense;\n With gifts his hands are filled;\n We draw our blessings thence:\n He will bestow\n On Israel's race\n Peculiar grace,\n And glory too.\n\n 3 The Lord his people loves;\n His hand no good withholds\n From those his heart approves--\n From pure and upright souls:\n Thrice happy he,\n O God of hosts,\n Whose spirit trusts\n Alone in thee.\n\n\n632 H. M.\n Welcome, delightful morn.\n\n Welcome, delightful morn,\n Thou day of sacred rest;\n I hail thy kind return--\n Lord, make these moments blest;\n From the low train of mortal toys,\n I soar to reach immortal joys.\n\n 2 Now may the King descend\n And fill his throne with grace;\n The scepter, Lord, extend,\n While saints address thy face:\n Let sinners feel thy quickening word,\n And learn to know and fear the Lord.\n\n\n633 7s & 6s.\n The first day of the week.\n\n O day of rest and gladness,\n O day of joy and light,\n O balm of care and sadness,\n Most beautiful, most bright,\n On thee, the high and lowly,\n Bending before the throne,\n Sing holy, holy, holy,\n To God the holy One.\n\n 2 On thee, at the creation,\n The light first had its birth;\n On thee for our salvation\n Christ rose from depths of earth;\n On thee our Lord victorious,\n The Spirit sent from heaven,\n And thus on thee most glorious,\n A triple light was given.\n\n 3 Thou art a port protected\n From storms that round us rise;\n A garden intersected\n With streams of Paradise;\n Thou art a cooling fountain\n In life's dry, dreary sand;\n From thee, like Pisgah's mountain,\n We view our promised land.\n\n\n\n\n GRATITUDE AND PRAISE.\n\n\n634 L. M.\n Loving kindness.\n\n Awake, my soul, to joyful lays,\n And sing the great Redeemer's praise;\n He justly claims a song from me,\n His loving kindness, O how free!\n\n 2 He saw me ruined in the fall,\n Yet loved me, notwithstanding all;\n He saved me from my lost estate,\n His loving kindness, O how great.\n\n 3 Though numerous hosts of mighty foes,\n Though earth and hell, my way oppose,\n He safely leads my soul along,\n His loving kindness, O how strong!\n\n 4 When trouble, like a gloomy cloud,\n Has gathered thick and thundered loud,\n He near my soul has always stood,\n His loving kindness, O how good!\n\n 5 Soon shall I pass the gloomy vale,\n Soon all my mortal powers must fail;\n O may my last expiring breath\n His loving kindness sing in death!\n\n 6 Then let me mount and soar away\n To the bright world of endless day,\n And sing with rapture and surprise,\n His loving kindness in the skies!\n\n\n635 L. M.\n I will praise thee for ever.\n Psalm 52:9.\n\n My God, my King, thy various praise\n Shall fill the remnant of my days;\n Thy grace employ my humble tongue,\n Till death and glory raise the song.\n\n 2 The wings of every hour shall bear\n Some thankful tribute to thine ear,\n And every setting sun shall see\n New works of duty, done for thee.\n\n 3 Let distant times and nations raise\n The long succession of thy praise;\n And unborn ages make my song\n The joy and labor of my tongue.\n\n 4 But who can speak thy wondrous deeds?\n Thy greatness all my thoughts exceeds:\n Vast and unsearchable thy ways,\n Vast and immortal is thy praise.\n\n\n636 L. M.\n Omnipresence.\n Psalm 138.\n\n Lord of all being; throned afar,\n Thy glory flames from sun and star;\n Center and soul of every sphere,\n Yet to each loving heart how near!\n\n 2 Sun of our life, thy quickening ray\n Sheds on our path the glow of day;\n Star of our hope, thy softened light\n Cheers the long watches of the night.\n\n 3 Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn;\n Our noontide is thy gracious dawn;\n Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign;\n All, save the clouds of sin, are thine!\n\n 4 Lord of all life, below, above,\n Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love,\n Before thy ever-blazing throne\n We ask no luster of our own.\n\n 5 Grant us thy truth to make us free,\n And kindling hearts that burn for thee,\n Till all thy living altars claim\n One holy light, one heavenly flame!\n\n\n637 L. M.\n His mercy endureth for ever.\n Psalm 106:1.\n\n O render thanks to God above,\n The fountain of eternal love;\n Whose mercy firm through ages past\n Has stood, and shall for ever last.\n\n 2 Who can his mighty deeds express,\n Not only vast, but numberless!\n What mortal eloquence can raise\n His tribute of immortal praise!\n\n\n638 L. M.\n Condescension of Christ.\n\n How sweet the praise, how high the theme,\n To sing of him who rules supreme,\n Who dwells at God's right hand on high,\n Yet looks on us with tender eye.\n\n 2 Th' angelic host, in countless throngs,\n Recount his glories in their songs,\n And golden harps salute his ear;\n Yet our weak praise he deigns to hear.\n\n 3 The planets roll their orbits round;\n Unnumbered worlds, in space profound,\n Are ruled by him, by him controlled;\n Yet he's the Shepherd of our fold.\n\n 4 Exalted high upon his throne,\n The universe is all his own:\n Untold the honors he doth wear;\n Yet we are objects of his care.\n\n\n639 C. P. M.\n Matt. 1:21.\n\n O let your mingling voices rise\n In grateful rapture to the skies,\n And hail a Saviour's birth;\n Let songs of joy the day proclaim,\n When Jesus all-triumphant came\n To bless the sons of earth.\n\n 2 He came to bid the weary rest;\n To heal the sinner's wounded breast;\n To bind the broken heart;\n To spread the light of truth around;\n And to the world's remotest bound,\n The heavenly gift impart.\n\n 3 He came, our trembling souls to save\n From sin, from sorrow, and the grave,\n And chase our fears away;\n Victorious over death and time,\n To lead us to a happier clime,\n Where reigns eternal day.\n\n\n640 P. M.\n To him be glory.\n\n Rejoice, O earth! the Lord is King!\n To him your humble tribute bring;\n Let Jacob rise, and Zion sing,\n And all the world with praises ring,\n And give to Jesus glory!\n\n 2 O may the saints of every name\n Unite to serve the bleeding Lamb!\n May jars and discords cease to flame,\n And all the Saviour's love proclaim,\n And give to Jesus glory!\n\n 3 We long to see the Christians join\n In union sweet and love divine,\n And glory through the churches shine,\n And Gentiles crowding to the sign,\n To give to Jesus glory!\n\n 4 O may the distant lands rejoice,\n And sinners hear the Bridegroom's voice,\n While praise their happy tongues employs,\n And all obtain immortal joys,\n And give to Jesus glory!\n\n 5 Then tears shall all be wiped away,\n And Christians never go astray;\n When we are freed from cumbrous clay,\n We'll praise the Lord in endless day,\n And give to Jesus glory.\n\n\n641 C. M.\n My sheep--follow me.\n John 10:27.\n\n To thee, my Shepherd and my Lord,\n A grateful song I'll raise;\n O let the humblest of thy flock\n Attempt to speak thy praise.\n\n 2 My life, my joy, my hope, I owe\n To thine amazing love;\n Ten thousand thousand comforts here,\n And nobler bliss above.\n\n 3 To thee my trembling spirit flies,\n With sin and grief oppressed;\n Thy gentle voice dispels my fears,\n And lulls my cares to rest.\n\n 4 Lead on, dear Shepherd!--led by thee,\n No evil shall I fear;\n Soon shall I reach thy fold above,\n And praise thee better there.\n\n\n642 P. M.\n Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.\n Rev. 5:12.\n\n Rise, tune thy voice to sacred song,\n Exert thy noblest powers;\n Rise, mingle with the choral throng,\n The Saviour's praises to prolong,\n Amid life's fleeting hours.\n\n 2 O! hast thou felt the Saviour's love,\n That flame of heavenly birth!\n Then let thy strains melodious prove,\n With raptures soaring far above\n The trifling toys of earth.\n\n 3 Hast found the pearl of price unknown\n That cost a Saviour's blood?\n Heir of a bright celestial crown,\n That sparkles near the eternal throne;\n O sing the praise of God!\n\n 4 Sing of the Lamb that once was slain\n That man might be forgiven;\n Sing how he broke death's bars in twain,\n Ascending high in bliss to reign,\n The God of earth and heaven.\n\n\n643 C. M.\n The Saviour died for me.\n\n To our Redeemer's glorious name\n Awake the sacred song;\n O may his love (immortal flame!)\n Tune every heart and tongue.\n\n 2 His love, what mortal thought can reach!\n What mortal tongue display!\n Imagination's utmost stretch\n In wonder dies away.\n\n 3 He left his radiant throne on high,\n Left the bright realms of bliss,\n And came to earth to bleed and die!\n Was ever love like this?\n\n 4 Blest Lord, while we adoring pay\n Our humble thanks to thee,\n May every heart with rapture say,\n \"The Saviour died for me!\"\n\n 5 O may the sweet, the blissful theme\n Fill every heart and tongue,\n Till strangers love thy charming name,\n And join the sacred song.\n\n\n644 C. M.\n Tender mercies.\n\n Almighty Father! gracious Lord!\n Kind Guardian of my days!\n Thy mercies let my heart record\n In songs of grateful praise.\n\n 2 In life's first dawn, my tender frame\n Was thine indulgent care,\n Long ere I could pronounce thy name,\n Or breathe the infant prayer.\n\n 3 Each rolling year new favors brought\n From thine exhaustless store;\n But, ah! in vain my laboring thought\n Would count thy mercies o'er.\n\n 4 Still I adore thee, gracious Lord!\n For favors more divine--\n That I have known thy sacred word.\n Where all thy glories shine.\n\n 5 Lord, when this mortal frame decays,\n And every weakness dies,\n Complete the wonders of thy grace,\n And raise me to the skies.\n\n\n645 C. M.\n I will bless thy name for ever and ever.\n Psalm 145:1.\n\n Long as I live I'll praise thy name,\n My King, my God of love;\n My work and joy shall be the same\n In the bright world above.\n\n 2 Great is the Lord, his power unknown,\n And let his praise be great:\n I'll sing the honors of thy throne,\n Thy work of grace repeat.\n\n 3 Thy grace shall dwell upon my tongue;\n And while my lips rejoice,\n The men that hear my sacred song,\n Shall join their cheerful voice.\n\n 4 Fathers to sons shall teach thy name,\n And children learn thy ways;\n Ages to come thy truth proclaim,\n And nations sound thy praise.\n\n 5 Thy glorious deeds of ancient date\n Shall through the world be known--\n Thy arm of power, thy heavenly state\n With public splendor shown.\n\n 6 The world is managed by thy hands,\n Thy saints are ruled by love;\n And thy eternal kingdom stands,\n Though rocks and hills remove.\n\n\n646 C. M.\n Unto him that loved us.\n Rev. 1:5.\n\n To him that loved the sons of men\n And washed us in his blood,\n To royal honors raised our heads,\n And made us priests to God:\n\n 2 To him let every tongue be praise,\n And every heart be love;\n All grateful honors paid on earth,\n And nobler songs above.\n\n 3 Behold, on flying clouds he comes!\n His saints shall bless the day:\n While they that pierced him sadly mourn,\n In anguish and dismay.\n\n 4 Thou art the First and thou the Last;\n Time centers all in thee;\n Almighty Lord, who wast, and art,\n And evermore shalt be.\n\n\n647 C. M.\n Old things passed away.\n\n Let earthly minds the world pursue;\n It has no charms for me;\n Once I admired its trifles too,\n But grace has set me free.\n\n 2 As, by the light of opening day,\n The stars are all concealed;\n So earthly pleasures fade away,\n When Jesus is revealed.\n\n 3 Creatures no more divide my choice--\n I bid them all depart;\n His name, his love, his gracious voice,\n Have fixed my roving heart.\n\n 4 But may I hope, that thou wilt own\n A worthless worm like me?\n Dear Lord! I would be thine alone,\n And wholly live to thee.\n\n\n648 S. M.\n The song of Moses and the Lamb.\n Rev. 15:3.\n\n Awake, and sing the song\n Of Moses and the Lamb!\n Wake, every heart and every tongue,\n To praise the Saviour's name!\n\n 2 Sing of his dying love!\n Sing of his rising power!\n Sing how he intercedes above\n For those whose sins he bore!\n\n 3 Sing on your heavenly way,\n You ransomed sinners, sing;\n Sing on, rejoicing every day\n In Christ, the glorious King.\n\n 4 Soon shall you hear him say,\n \"You blessed children, come,\"\n Soon will he call you hence away,\n And take his pilgrims home.\n\n\n649 S. M.\n Break forth into joy.\n Isaiah 52:9.\n\n Raise your triumphant songs\n To an immortal tune;\n Let the wide earth resound the deeds\n Celestial grace has done.\n\n 2 Sing how Eternal Love\n His Chief Beloved chose,\n And bade him raise our wretched race\n From their abyss of woes.\n\n 3 His hand no thunder bears,\n Nor terror clothes his brow;\n No bolts to drive our guilty souls\n To fiercer flames below.\n\n 4 He shows his Father's love,\n To raise our souls on high;\n He came with pardon from above\n To rebels doomed to die.\n\n 5 Now, sinners, dry your tears;\n Let hopeless sorrow cease;\n Bow to the scepter of his love,\n And take the offered peace.\n\n 6 Lord, we obey thy call;\n We lay an humble claim\n To the salvation thou hast brought,\n And love and praise thy name.\n\n\n650 S. M.\n Psalm 103.\n\n O bless the Lord, my soul!\n His grace to thee proclaim;\n And all that is within me, join,\n To bless his holy name.\n\n 2 O bless the Lord, my soul!\n His mercies bear in mind;\n Forget not all his benefits;\n The Lord to thee is kind.\n\n 3 He will not always chide;\n He will with patience wait;\n His wrath is ever slow to rise,\n And ready to abate.\n\n 4 He pardons all thy sins,\n Prolongs thy feeble breath:\n He healeth thine infirmities,\n And ransoms thee from death.\n\n 5 Then bless his holy name\n Whose grace hath made thee whole,\n Whose loving-kindness crowns thy days;\n O bless the Lord, my soul!\n\n\n651 S. M.\n Bless his holy name.\n Psalm 103:1.\n\n Let every heart and tongue\n Proclaim the Saviour's praise;\n He is the source of all my joy,\n His mercy crowns my days.\n\n 2 He knows my feeble frame;\n Remembers I am dust;\n And though he should my life destroy,\n In him I'll put my trust.\n\n 3 Each day he is my strength,\n My hope, my life, my all;\n And while upon his arm I lean,\n I surely can not fall.\n\n 4 Then to my blessed Lord,\n Let grateful songs arise,\n While angels bear the notes above\n And sound them through the skies.\n\n\n652 S. M.\n His compassions fail not.\n Lam. 3:22.\n\n How various and how new\n Are thy compassions, Lord!\n Each morning shall thy mercies show,\n Each night thy truth record.\n\n 2 Thy goodness, like the sun,\n Dawned on our early days,\n Ere infant reason had begun\n To form our lips to praise.\n\n 3 Each object we beheld\n Gave pleasure to our eyes;\n And nature all our senses held\n In bands of sweet surprise.\n\n 4 But pleasures more refined\n Awaited that blest day,\n When light arose upon our mind\n And chased our sins away.\n\n 5 How new thy mercies, then!\n How sovereign and how free!\n Our souls, that had been dead in sin,\n Were made alive to thee.\n\n\n653 7s.\n Redeeming love.\n\n Now begin the heavenly theme;\n Sing aloud in Jesus' name;\n Ye who his salvation prove,\n Triumph in redeeming love.\n\n 2 Ye who see the Father's grace\n Beaming in the Saviour's face,\n As to Canaan on ye move,\n Praise and bless redeeming love.\n\n 3 Mourning souls, dry up your tears;\n Banish all your guilty fears;\n See your guilt and curse remove,\n Canceled by redeeming love.\n\n 4 Welcome, all by sin oppressed,\n Welcome to his sacred rest;\n Nothing brought him from above,\n Nothing but redeeming love.\n\n 5 Hither, then, your music bring;\n Strike aloud each cheerful string;\n Mortals, join the host above--\n Join to praise redeeming love.\n\n\n654 7s.\n They shall come to Zion with songs.\n Isaiah 35:10\n\n Songs of praise awoke the morn\n When the Prince of Peace was born;\n Songs of praise arose, when he\n Captive led captivity.\n\n 2 Heaven and earth must pass away,\n Songs of praise shall crown the day:\n God will make new heavens and earth,\n Songs of praise shall hail their birth.\n\n 3 And will man alone be dumb,\n Till that glorious kingdom come?\n No; the church delights to raise\n Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise.\n\n 4 Saints below, with heart and voice,\n Still in songs of praise rejoice;\n Learning here, by faith and love,\n Songs of praise to sing above.\n\n 5 Borne upon the latest breath,\n Songs of praise shall conquer death;\n Then amidst eternal joy,\n Songs of praise their powers employ.\n\n\n655 7s.\n Praise waiteth for thee, etc.\n Psalm 65:1.\n\n Praise on thee, in Zion's gates,\n Daily, O Jehovah, waits;\n Unto thee, who hearest prayer,\n Shall the tribes of men repair.\n\n 2 Though with conscious guilt oppressed,\n On thy mercy still we rest;\n Thy forgiving love display,\n Take, O Lord, our sins away.\n\n 3 O, how blessed their reward,\n Chosen servants of the Lord,\n Who within thy courts abide,\n With thy goodness satisfied.\n\n\n656 P. M.\n 1 Pet. 1:8.\n\n Saviour! thy gentle voice\n Gladly we hear;\n Author of all our joys,\n Be ever near;\n Our souls would cling to thee,\n Let us thy fullness see,\n Our life to cheer.\n\n 2 Fountain of life divine!\n Thee we adore;\n We would be wholly thine\n For evermore;\n Freely forgive our sin,\n Grant heavenly peace within,\n Thy light restore.\n\n 3 Though to our faith unseen,\n While darkness reigns,\n On thee alone we lean\n While life remains;\n By thy free grace restored,\n Our souls shall bless the Lord\n In joyful strains!\n\n\n657 8s.\n All things loss for Christ.\n\n My gracious Redeemer I love!\n His praises aloud I'll proclaim,\n And join with the armies above\n To shout his adorable name.\n\n 2 To gaze on his glories divine\n Shall be my eternal employ,\n And feel them incessantly shine,\n My boundless, ineffable joy.\n\n 3 You palaces, scepters, and crowns,\n Your pride with disdain I survey,\n Your pomps are but shadows and sounds,\n And pass in a moment away.\n\n 4 The crown that my Saviour bestows,\n Yon permanent sun shall outshine;\n My joy everlastingly flows--\n My God, my Redeemer, is mine.\n\n\n658 8s.\n The first, and the last.\n Rev. 1:11.\n\n This Lord is the Lord we adore,\n Our faithful unchangeable Friend,\n Whose love is as large as his power,\n And neither knows measure nor end.\n\n 2 'Tis Jesus, the First and the Last,\n Whose Spirit shall guide us safe home;\n We'll praise him for all that is past,\n And trust him for all that's to come.\n\n\n659 8s.\n The unsearchable riches of Christ.\n Eph. 3:8.\n\n How shall I my Saviour set forth?\n How shall I his beauties declare?\n O how shall I speak of his worth,\n Or what his chief dignities are?\n\n 2 His angels can never express,\n Nor saints who sit nearest his throne,\n How rich are his treasures of grace--\n No--this is a secret unknown.\n\n 3 In him all the fullness of God\n For ever transcendently shines!\n Though once like a mortal he stood\n To finish his gracious designs.\n\n 4 Though once he was nailed to the cross,\n Vile rebels like me to set free,\n His glory sustained no loss,\n Eternal his kingdom shall be.\n\n 5 O sinners! believe and adore\n This Saviour so rich to redeem!\n No creature can ever explore\n The treasures of goodness in him.\n\n 6 Come, all you who see yourselves lost,\n And feel yourselves burdened with sin,\n Draw near, while with terror you're tossed,\n Obey, and your peace shall begin.\n\n 7 He riches has ever in store,\n And treasures that never can waste:\n Here's pardon, here's grace--yea, and more,\n Here's glory eternal at last.\n\n\n660 8s & 7s.\n O thou Fount of every blessing.\n\n O thou Fount of every blessing!\n Tune my heart to sing thy grace;\n Streams of mercy, never ceasing,\n Call for songs of loudest praise.\n\n 2 Teach me ever to adore thee,\n May I still thy goodness prove,\n While the hope of endless glory\n Fills my heart with joy and love.\n\n 3 Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,\n Hither by thy help I've come,\n And I hope, by thy good pleasure,\n Safely to arrive at home.\n\n 4 Jesus sought me when a stranger,\n Wandering from thy fold, O God!\n He to rescue me from danger,\n Interposed his precious blood.\n\n 5 O! to grace how great a debtor\n Daily I'm constrained to be!\n Let thy goodness, like a fetter,\n Bind me closer still to thee!\n\n 6 Never let me wander from thee,\n Never leave thee whom I love;\n By thy Word and Spirit guide me,\n Till I reach thy courts above.\n\n\n661 8s & 7s.\n Brightness of the Father's glory.\n Heb. 1:3.\n\n Brightness of the Father's glory,\n Shall thy praise unuttered lie?\n Break, my tongue, such guilty silence;\n Sing the Lord, who came to die.\n\n 2 Did the angels sing thy coming?\n Did the shepherds learn their lays?\n Shame would cover me, ungrateful,\n Should my tongue refuse to praise.\n\n 3 From the highest throne in glory\n To the cross of deepest woe,\n All to ransom guilty captives!\n Flow, my praise, for ever flow.\n\n 4 Re-ascend, immortal Saviour;\n Leave thy footstool, take thy throne;\n Thence return, and reign for ever;\n Be the kingdom all thine own.\n\n\n662 8s & 7s.\n Thrice holy.\n\n Bright the vision that delighted\n Once the sight of Judah's seer;\n Sweet the countless tongues united\n To entrance the prophet's ear.\n Round the Lord in glory seated,\n Cherubim and seraphim\n Filled his temple, and repeated\n Each to each th' alternate hymn:\n\n 2 \"Lord, thy glory fills the heaven;\n Earth is with its fullness stored;\n Unto thee be glory given,\n Holy, holy, holy Lord!\"\n Heaven is still with glory ringing;\n Earth takes up the angel's cry,\n \"Holy, holy, holy,\" singing,\n \"Lord of hosts, the Lord most high!\"\n\n 3 Ever thus in God's high praises,\n Brethren, let our tongues unite,\n While our thoughts his greatness raises,\n And our love his gifts recite.\n With his seraph train before him,\n With his holy church below,\n Thus conspire we to adore him,\n Bid we thus our anthem flow;\n\n 4 \"Lord, thy glory fills the heaven;\n Earth is with its fullness stored;\n Unto thee be glory given,\n Holy, holy, holy Lord!\n Thus thy glorious name confessing,\n We adopt the angels' cry,\n 'Holy, holy, holy,' blessing\n Thee, the Lord of hosts most high!\"\n\n\n663 8s & 7s, peculiar.\n Hark! ten thousand harps.\n\n Hark! ten thousand harps and voices\n Sound the note of praise above;\n Jesus reigns and heaven rejoices;\n Jesus reigns, the God of love;\n See, he sits on yonder throne;\n Jesus rules the world alone.\n\n 2 Jesus, hail! whose glory brightens\n All above, and gives it worth;\n Lord of life, thy smile enlightens,\n Cheers and charms thy saints on earth;\n When we think of love like thine,\n Lord, we own it love divine.\n\n 3 King of glory, reign for ever;\n Thine an everlasting crown:\n Nothing from thy love shall sever\n Those whom thou hast made thine own;\n Happy objects of thy grace,\n Destined to behold thy face.\n\n 4 Saviour, hasten thine appearing;\n Bring, O bring the glorious day,\n When, the awful summons hearing,\n Heaven and earth shall pass away:\n Then, with golden harps, we'll sing,\n \"Glory, glory to our King.\"\n\n\n664 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Worthy is the Lamb, etc.\n Rev. 5:12.\n\n Glory, glory everlasting,\n Be to him who bore the cross,\n Who redeemed our souls by tasting\n Death, the death deserved by us:\n Sound his glory\n While our heart with transport glows.\n\n 2 Jesus' love is love unbounded,\n Without measure, without end:\n Human thought is here confounded;\n 'Tis too vast to comprehend;\n Praise the Saviour;\n Magnify the sinner's Friend.\n\n 3 While we hear the wondrous story\n Of the Saviour's cross and shame,\n Sing we, \"Everlasting glory\n Be to God and to the Lamb!\"\n Saints and angels,\n Give ye glory to his name.\n\n\n665 11s.\n He hath put a new song in my mouth.\n Psalm 40:3.\n\n O Jesus, the giver of all we enjoy!\n Our lives to thy honor we wish to employ;\n With praises unceasing we'll sing of thy name!\n Thy goodness increasing, thy love we'll proclaim.\n\n 2 The wonderful name of our Jesus we'll sing,\n And publish the fame of our Captain and King,\n With sweet exultation his goodness we prove;\n His name is salvation--his nature is Love.\n\n 3 And when to the regions of glory we rise,\n And join the bright legions that shout through the skies,\n We'll tell the glad story of Jesus' kind grace,\n And give him the glory, and honor, and praise.\n\n 4 In this blest employment our spirits shall rest,\n In sweetest enjoyment on Jesus' own breast;\n We'll drink of the streams of Immanuel's love,\n And bask in the beams of his glory above.\n\n\n666 11s.\n Worthy is the Lamb.\n Rev. 5:12.\n\n Come, saints, let us join in the praise of the Lamb,\n The theme most sublime of the angels above;\n They dwell with delight on the sound of his name,\n And gaze on his glories with wonder and love.\n\n 2 They worship the Lamb who for sinners was slain;\n But their loftiest songs never equal his love:\n The claims of his mercy will ever remain,\n Transcending the anthems in glory above.\n\n 3 Yet even our service he will not despise,\n When we join in his worship and tell of his name;\n Then let us unite in the song of the skies,\n And, trusting his mercy, sing, \"Worthy the Lamb.\"\n\n\n667 6s & 4s.\n Let us awake our joys.\n\n Let us awake our joys;\n Strike up with cheerful voice,\n Each creature sing:\n Angels, begin the song;\n Mortals, the strain prolong,\n In accents sweet and strong,\n \"Jesus is King.\"\n\n 2 Proclaim abroad his name;\n Tell of his matchless fame!\n What wonders done;\n Above, beneath, around,\n Let all the earth resound,\n 'Till heaven's high arch rebound,\n \"Victory is won.\"\n\n 3 He vanquished sin and hell,\n And our last foe will quell;\n Mourners, rejoice;\n His dying love adore;\n Praise him now raised in power;\n Praise him for evermore,\n With joyful voice.\n\n 4 All hail the glorious day,\n When through the heavenly way,\n Lo! he shall come,\n While they who pierced him, wail;\n His promise shall not fail;\n Saints, see your King prevail:\n Great Saviour, come.\n\n\n668 6s & 4s.\n Rev. 5:12, 13.\n\n Glory to God on high!\n Let heaven and earth reply;\n Praise ye his name;\n His love and grace adore,\n Who all our sorrows bore,\n And sing for evermore,\n \"Worthy the Lamb.\"\n\n 2 Ye who surround the throne,\n Join cheerfully in one,\n Praising his name;\n Ye who have felt his blood\n Sealing your peace with God,\n Sound his dear name abroad:\n \"Worthy the Lamb.\"\n\n 3 Join all ye ransomed race,\n Our Lord and God to bless;\n Praise ye his name;\n In him we will rejoice,\n And make a joyful noise,\n Shouting with heart and voice,\n \"Worthy the Lamb.\"\n\n 4 Soon must we change our place;\n Yet will we never cease\n Praising his name:\n To him our songs we'll bring,\n Hail him our gracious King,\n And through all ages sing,\n \"Worthy the Lamb.\"\n\n\n669 6s & 5s.\n God is ever good.\n\n See the shining dew-drops\n On the flowers strewed,\n Proving as they sparkle--\n God is ever good.\n\n 2 See the morning sunbeams,\n Lighting up the wood,\n Silently proclaiming--\n God is ever good.\n\n 3 Hear the mountain streamlet,\n In the solitude,\n With its ripple saying--\n God is ever good.\n\n 4 In the leafy tree-tops,\n Where no fears intrude,\n Merry birds are singing--\n God is ever good.\n\n 5 Bring, my heart, thy tribute,\n Songs of gratitude,\n While all nature utters--\n God is ever good.\n\n\n670 H. M.\n Declare among the people his doings.\n Psalm 9:11.\n\n Come, every pious heart\n That loves the Saviour's name,\n Your noblest powers exert\n To celebrate his fame:\n Tell all above and all below\n The debt of love to him you owe.\n\n 2 Such was his zeal for God,\n And such his love for you,\n He nobly undertook\n What angels could not do;\n His every deed of love and grace\n All words exceed, all thoughts surpass.\n\n 3 He left his starry crown,\n And laid his robes aside;\n On wings of love came down,\n And wept, and bled, and died;\n What he endured, O who can tell,\n To save our souls from death and hell!\n\n 4 From the dark grave he rose,\n The mansion of the dead;\n And thence his mighty foes\n In glorious triumph led;\n Up through the sky the Conqueror rode,\n And reigns on high the Son of God.\n\n 5 From thence he'll quickly come,\n His chariot will not stay,\n And bear our spirits home\n To realms of endless day:\n There shall we see his lovely face,\n And ever be in his embrace.\n\n\n671 P. M.\n Glad homage.\n\n Father of spirits! humbly bent before thee,\n Songs of glad homage unto thee we bring:\n Touched by thy Spirit, O teach us to adore thee;\n Let thy light attend us,\n Let thy love befriend us,\n Father of our spirits, Everlasting King!\n\n 2 Send forth thy mandate, gather in the nations,\n Through the wide universe thy name be known,\n Millions of voices shall join in adorations,\n Every soul invited,\n Every voice united;\n Joining to adore thee, Everlasting One!\n\n\n672 C. P. M.\n The great salvation.\n Heb. 2:3.\n\n To him who did salvation bring,\n Wake every tuneful power, and sing\n A song of sweetest praise:\n His grace diffuses as the rains\n Crown nature's flowery hills and plains,\n And spread a thousand ways.\n\n 2 Salvation is the noblest song,\n O may it dwell on every tongue,\n And all repeat, Amen!\n The Lord will come from heaven to earth\n To give his people second birth,\n And make them one again.\n\n 3 We feel redemption drawing near;\n We soon in glory shall appear,\n And be for ever blessed:\n His promise never can delay,\n Our Jesus, on th' appointed day,\n Will give his people rest.\n\n 4 By faith we view him coming down,\n With angels hovering all around;\n He smiles upon his saints:\n He cries aloud in melting strains,\n I come to save you from your pains,\n And end your sore complaints.\n\n 5 The smiling millions rise and sing\n All glory! glory to our King;\n The Grand Assize is come!\n You everlasting doors, fly wide;\n The Church is glorious as a bride,\n And Jesus takes her home.\n\n 6 In all the heavens there's not a tear,\n Nor in the realms of bliss a fear,\n But pleasure yet unknown:\n From heaven to heaven we sound the bliss,\n O what a blest abode is this,\n For ever round the throne!\n\n 7 The joys of heaven will never end;\n All glory to the sinner's Friend!\n Roll on, you happy scenes!\n You winged seraphs, help us praise\n The Author of eternal joys!\n Our Jesus ever reigns.\n\n\n673 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Praise the Lord.\n\n Praise the Lord! ye saints adore him,\n All unite with one accord;\n Bring your offerings, come before him--\n O praise the Lord.\n\n 2 Praise the Lord! who every blessing\n On our heads hath richly poured;\n Sing aloud, his love confessing--\n O praise the Lord.\n\n 3 Praise the Lord! who would not praise him?\n He hath us to grace restored:\n To the highest honors raise him--\n O praise the Lord.\n\n 4 Praise the Lord! your songs excelling\n Worldly music's richest chord;\n Sing--your Saviour's glory telling;\n O praise the Lord.\n\n\n\n\n OPENING HYMNS.\n\n\n674 L. M.\n Psalm 100.\n\n Before Jehovah's awful throne,\n Ye nations, bow with sacred joy;\n Know that the Lord is God alone,\n He can create and he destroy.\n\n 2 His sovereign power, without our aid,\n Made us of clay, and formed us men;\n And when like wandering sheep we strayed,\n He brought us to his fold again.\n\n 3 We are his people--we his care--\n Our souls, and all our mortal frame:\n What lasting honors shall we rear,\n Almighty Maker, to thy name?\n\n 4 We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs,\n High as the heavens our voices raise;\n And earth, with her ten thousand tongues,\n Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise.\n\n 5 Wide as the world is thy command!\n Vast as eternity thy love!\n Firm as a rock thy truth shall stand,\n When rolling years shall cease to move!\n\n\n675 L. M.\n God exalted.\n Psalm 57:5.\n\n Be thou exalted, O my God!\n Above the heavens where angels dwell;\n Thy power on earth be known abroad,\n And land to land thy wonders tell.\n\n 2 My heart is fixed; my song shall raise\n Immortal honors to thy name:\n Awake, my tongue, to sound his praise,\n My tongue, the glory of my frame.\n\n 3 High o'er the earth his mercy reigns,\n And reaches to the utmost sky;\n His truth to endless years remains,\n When lower worlds dissolve and die.\n\n\n676 L. M.\n Every place a temple.\n\n O Thou, to whom, in ancient time,\n The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung;\n Whom kings adored in songs sublime,\n And prophets praised with glowing tongue:\n\n 2 Not now on Zion's hight alone\n Thy favored worshipers may dwell;\n Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son\n Sat weary, by the patriarch's well.\n\n 3 From every place below the skies,\n The grateful song, the fervent prayer--\n The incense of the heart--may rise\n To heaven, and find acceptance there.\n\n 4 To thee shall age, with snowy hair,\n And strength, and beauty, bend the knee;\n And childhood lisp, with reverent air,\n Its praises and its prayers to thee!\n\n 5 O thou to whom, in ancient time,\n The lyre of prophet-bards was strung,\n To thee, at last, in every clime,\n Shall temples rise, and praise be sung!\n\n\n677 L. M.\n Coming together in the name of Jesus.\n Matt. 18:20.\n\n Great God! the followers of thy Son,\n We bow before thy mercy-seat,\n To worship thee, the holy One,\n And pour our wishes at thy feet.\n\n 2 O, grant thy blessing here to-day;\n O, give thy people joy and peace;\n The tokens of thy love display,\n And favor that shall never cease.\n\n 3 We seek the truth which Jesus brought,\n His path of light we long to tread;\n Here be his holy doctrines taught,\n And here their purest influence shed.\n\n 4 May faith, and hope, and love abound;\n Our sins and errors be forgiven;\n And we, from day to day, be found\n The sons of God and heirs of heaven.\n\n\n678 L. M. 6 lines.\n Seeking refuge.\n\n Forth from the dark and stormy sky,\n Lord, to thine altar's shade we fly;\n Forth from the world, its hope and fear,\n Father, we seek thy shelter here:\n Weary and weak, thy grace we pray;\n Turn not, O Lord, thy guests away.\n\n 2 Long have we roamed in want and pain;\n Long have we sought thy rest to gain;\n Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,\n Long have our souls been tempest-tost;\n Low at thy feet our sins we lay;\n Turn not, O Lord, thy guests away.\n\n\n679 L. M.\n The hour of worship.\n\n Blest hour, when mortal man retires\n To hold communion with his God,\n To send to heaven his warm desires,\n And listen to the sacred word.\n\n 2 Blest hour, when earthly cares resign\n Their empire o'er his anxious breast,\n While, all around, the calm divine,\n Proclaims the holy day of rest.\n\n 3 Blest hour, when God himself draws nigh,\n Well pleased his people's voice to hear,\n To hush the penitential sigh,\n And wipe away the mourner's tear.\n\n 4 Blest hour! for, where the Lord resorts,\n Foretastes of future bliss are given,\n And mortals find his earthly courts\n The house of God, the gate of heaven.\n\n\n680 L. M.\n How amiable are thy tabernacles.\n Psalm 84:1.\n\n Great God, attend while Zion sings\n The joy that from thy presence springs;\n To spend one day with thee on earth,\n Exceeds a thousand days of mirth.\n\n 2 Might I enjoy the meanest place\n Within thy house, O God of grace,\n Not tents of ease, nor thrones of power,\n Should tempt my feet to leave thy door.\n\n 3 God is our sun, he makes our day;\n God is our shield, he guards our way\n From all th' assaults of hell and sin,\n From foes without and foes within.\n\n 4 All needful grace will God bestow,\n And crown that grace with glory too:\n He gives us all things, and withholds\n No real good from upright souls.\n\n 5 O God, our King, whose sovereign sway,\n The glorious hosts of heaven obey,\n And devils at thy presence flee;\n Blest is the man that trusts in thee.\n\n\n681 L. M.\n Serve the Lord with gladness.\n Psalm 100:2.\n\n Ye nations round the earth, rejoice,\n Before the Lord, your sovereign King;\n Serve him with cheerful heart and voice;\n With all your tongues his glory sing.\n\n 2 The Lord is God: 'tis he alone\n Doth life, and breath, and being give;\n We are his work, and not our own;\n The sheep that on his pastures live.\n\n 3 Enter his gates with songs of joy;\n With praises to his courts repair;\n And make it your divine employ\n To pay your thanks and honors there.\n\n 4 The Lord is good, the Lord is kind;\n Great is his grace, his mercy sure:\n And the whole race of men shall find\n His truth from age to age endure.\n\n\n682 L. M.\n Let us worship and bow down.\n Psalm 95:6.\n\n O come, loud anthems let us sing,\n Loud thanks to our almighty King!\n For we our voices high should raise,\n When our salvation's Rock we praise.\n\n 2 Into his presence let us haste,\n To thank him for his favors past;\n To him address in joyful songs\n The praise that to his name belongs.\n\n 3 O, let us to his courts repair,\n And bow with adoration there!\n Down on our knees, devoutly, all\n Before the Lord, our Maker, fall.\n\n\n683 L. M.\n Speak, Lord, thy servant heareth.\n 1 Sam. 3:10.\n\n While now thy throne of grace we seek,\n O God! within our spirits speak;\n For we will hear thy voice to-day,\n Nor turn our hardened hearts away.\n\n 2 Speak in thy gentlest tones of love,\n Till all our best affections move;\n We long to hear thy gentle call,\n And feel that thou art all in all.\n\n 3 To conscience speak thy quickening word,\n Till all its sense of sin is stirred;\n For we would leave no stain of guile,\n To cloud the radiance of thy smile.\n\n 4 Speak, Father, to the anxious heart,\n Till every fear and doubt depart;\n For we can find no home or rest,\n Till with thy Spirit's whispers blest.\n\n 5 Speak to convince, forgive, console:\n Childlike we yield to thy control;\n These hearts, too often closed before,\n Would grieve thy patient love no more.\n\n\n684 L. M.\n God is here.\n\n Be still! be still! for all around,\n On either hand, is holy ground:\n Here in his house, the Lord to-day\n Will listen, while his people pray.\n\n 2 Thou, tossed upon the waves of care\n Ready to sink with deep despair,\n Here ask relief, with heart sincere,\n And thou shalt find that God is here.\n\n 3 Thou who hast laid within the grave\n Those whom thou hadst no power to save,\n Now to the mercy-seat draw near,\n With all thy woes, for God is here.\n\n 4 Thou who hast dear ones far away,\n In foreign lands, 'mid ocean's spray,\n Pray for them now, and dry the tear,\n And trust the God who listens here.\n\n 5 Thou who art mourning o'er thy sin,\n Deploring guilt that reigns within,\n The God of peace is ever near;\n The troubled spirit meets him here.\n\n\n685 L. M.\n I will come in.\n Rev. 3:20.\n\n O blest the souls, for ever blest,\n Where God as sovereign is confest;\n O happy hearts, the blessed homes\n To which the King in glory comes!\n\n 2 Fling wide thy portals, O my heart!\n Be thou a temple set apart;\n So shall thy Sovereign enter in,\n And new and nobler life begin.\n\n 3 Deliverer, come! we open wide\n Our hearts to thee; here, Lord, abide!\n Let all thy glorious presence feel;\n Thou--King of saints! thyself reveal.\n\n\n686 L. M.\n Blessed are they that dwell in thy house.\n Psalm 84:4.\n\n How pleasant, how divinely fair,\n Lord of hosts, thy dwellings are!\n With long desire my spirit faints\n To meet the assemblies of thy saints.\n\n 2 My soul would rest in thine abode,\n My panting heart cries out for God;\n My God! my King! why should I be\n So far from all my joys and thee!\n\n 3 Blest are the souls who find a place\n Within the temple of thy grace;\n There they behold thy gentler rays,\n And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.\n\n 4 Blest are the men whose hearts are set\n To find the way to Zion's gate;\n God is their strength, and through the road,\n They lean upon their Helper, God.\n\n\n687 L. M.\n The living temple.\n\n O Father! with protecting care,\n Meet us in this, our house of prayer;\n Assembled in thy sacred name,\n Thy promised blessing here we claim.\n\n 2 But chiefest in the cleansed breast,\n For ever let thy Spirit rest,\n And make the contrite heart to be\n A temple pure and worthy thee.\n\n\n688 L. M.\n My soul longeth for the courts of the Lord.\n Psalm 84:2.\n\n Look from on high, great God, and see\n Thy saints lamenting after thee:\n We sigh, we languish, and complain;\n Revive thy gracious work again.\n\n 2 To-day thy cheering grace impart,\n Bind up and heal the broken heart;\n Our sins subdue, our souls restore,\n And let our foes prevail no more.\n\n 3 Thy presence in thy house afford,\n And bless the preaching of thy word,\n That sinners may their danger see,\n And now begin to mourn for thee.\n\n\n689 C. M.\n Homage and devotion.\n\n With sacred joy we lift our eyes\n To those bright realms above,\n That glorious temple in the skies,\n Where dwells eternal Love.\n\n 2 Before the gracious throne we bow\n Of heaven's almighty King;\n Here we present the solemn vow,\n And hymns of praise we sing.\n\n 3 O Lord, while in thy house we kneel,\n With trust and holy fear,\n Thy mercy and thy truth reveal,\n And lend a gracious ear.\n\n 4 With fervor teach our hearts to pray,\n And tune our lips to sing;\n Nor from thy presence cast away\n The sacrifice we bring.\n\n\n690 C. M.\n Lift thou the light of thy countenance, etc.\n Psalm 4:6\n\n Within thy house, O Lord, our God,\n In glory now appear;\n Make this a place of thine abode,\n And shed thy blessings here.\n\n 2 When we thy mercy-seat surround,\n Thy Spirit, Lord, impart;\n And let thy gospel's joyful sound,\n With power, reach every heart.\n\n 3 Here let the blind their sight obtain;\n Here give the mourners rest;\n Let Jesus here triumphant reign,\n Enthroned in every breast.\n\n 4 Here let the voice of sacred joy\n And humble prayer arise,\n Till higher strains our tongues employ\n In realms beyond the skies.\n\n\n691 C. M.\n The house of God.\n\n My soul! how lovely is the place,\n To which thy God resorts!\n 'Tis heaven to see his smiling face,\n Though in his earthly courts.\n\n 2 There the great Monarch of the skies\n His saving power displays,\n And light breaks in upon our eyes,\n With kind and quickening rays.\n\n 3 There, mighty God! thy words declare\n The secrets of thy will;\n And still we seek thy mercy there,\n And sing thy praises still.\n\n\n692 C. M.\n What shall I render.\n Psalm 116:12.\n\n What shall I render to my God\n For all his kindness shown?\n My feet shall visit thine abode,\n My songs address thy throne.\n\n 2 Among the saints that fill thy house,\n My offerings shall be paid;\n There shall my zeal perform the vows\n My soul in anguish made.\n\n 3 How happy all thy servants are,\n How great thy grace to me!\n My life, which thou hast made thy care,\n Lord, I devote to thee.\n\n 4 Now I am thine, for ever thine,\n Nor shall my purpose move;\n Thy hand hath loosed my bonds of pain,\n And bound me with thy love.\n\n 5 Here in thy courts I leave my vow,\n And thy rich grace record;\n Witness, ye saints, who hear me now,\n If I forsake the Lord.\n\n\n693 C. M.\n They shall mount up with wings as eagles.\n Isaiah 40:31.\n\n Come, O thou King of all thy saints,\n Our humble tribute own,\n While, with our praises and complaints,\n We bow before thy throne.\n\n 2 How should our songs, like those above,\n With warm devotion rise!\n How should our souls on wings of love,\n Mount upward to the skies!\n\n 3 But, ah, the song, how faint it flows!\n How languid our desire!\n How dim the sacred passion glows,\n Till thou the heart inspire!\n\n 4 Blest Saviour, let thy glory shine,\n And fill thy dwellings here,\n Till life, and love, and joy divine,\n A heaven on earth appear.\n\n\n694 C. M.\n Again the Lord of light and life.\n\n Again the Lord of light and life\n Awakes the kindling ray,\n Unseals the eyelids of the morn,\n And pours increasing day.\n\n 2 O what a night was that which wrapt\n The heathen world in gloom!\n O what a Sun which rose this day\n Triumphant from the tomb!\n\n 3 This day be grateful homage paid\n And loud hosannas sung;\n Let gladness dwell in every heart,\n And praise on every tongue.\n\n 4 Ten thousand different lips shall join\n To hail this welcome morn,\n Which scatters blessings from its wings\n To nations yet unborn.\n\n\n695 C. M.\n With the pure thou wilt show thyself pure.\n 2 Sam. 22:27.\n\n The offerings to thy throne which rise,\n Of mingled praise and prayer,\n Are but a worthless sacrifice\n Unless the heart is there.\n\n 2 Upon thine all-discerning ear\n Let no vain words intrude;\n No tribute but the vow sincere--\n The tribute of the good.\n\n 3 My offerings will indeed be blest,\n If sanctified by thee--\n If thy pure Spirit touch my breast\n With its own purity.\n\n 4 O, may that Spirit warm my heart\n To piety and love,\n And to life's lowly vale impart\n Some rays from heaven above.\n\n\n696 C. M.\n Let us go up to the house of the Lord.\n Psalm 122:1.\n\n Again our earthly cares we leave,\n And to thy courts repair;\n Again, with joyful feet, we come\n To meet our Saviour here.\n\n 2 Within these walls let holy peace,\n And love, and concord dwell;\n Here give the troubled conscience ease,\n The wounded spirit heal.\n\n 3 The feeling heart, the melting eye,\n The humble mind, bestow:\n And shine upon us from on high,\n To make our graces grow.\n\n 4 May we in faith receive thy word,\n In faith present our prayers,\n And in the presence of our Lord,\n Unbosom all our cares.\n\n 5 Show us some token of thy love,\n Our fainting hope to raise,\n And pour thy blessings from above,\n That we may render praise.\n\n\n697 C. M.\n Quicken us, and we will call on thy name.\n Psalm 80:18.\n\n Come, Lord, and warm each languid heart;\n Inspire each lifeless tongue;\n And let the joys of heaven impart\n Their influence to our song.\n\n 2 Then to the shining realms of bliss\n The wings of faith shall soar,\n And all the charms of Paradise\n Our raptured thoughts explore.\n\n 3 There shall the followers of the Lamb\n Join in immortal songs,\n And endless honors to his name\n Employ their tuneful tongues.\n\n 3 Lord, tune our hearts to praise and love;\n Our feeble notes inspire,\n Till, in thy blissful courts above,\n We join the heavenly choir.\n\n\n698 C. M.\n Early will I seek thee.\n Psalm 63:1.\n\n Early, my God, without delay,\n I haste to seek thy face;\n My thirsty spirit faints away\n Without thy cheering grace.\n\n 2 So pilgrims on the scorching sand,\n Beneath a burning sky,\n Long for a cooling stream at hand,\n And they must drink or die.\n\n 3 Not life itself, with all its joys,\n Can my best passions move,\n Or raise so high my cheerful voice,\n As thy forgiving love.\n\n 4 Thus, till my last expiring day,\n I'll bless my God and King;\n Thus will I lift my hands to pray,\n And tune my lips to sing.\n\n\n699 C. M.\n The morrow after the Sabbath.\n Lev. 23:11.\n\n Blest day of God! most calm, most bright,\n The first and best of days:\n The laborer's rest, the saint's delight,\n The day of prayer and praise.\n\n 2 My Saviour's face made thee to shine;\n His rising thee did raise:\n And made thee heavenly and divine\n Beyond all other days.\n\n 3 The first-fruits oft a blessing prove\n To all the sheaves behind:\n And they who do the Lord's day love,\n A happy week shall find.\n\n 4 This day I must to God appear,\n For, Lord, the day is thine;\n Help me to spend it in thy fear,\n And thus to make it mine.\n\n\n700 S. M.\n Stand up and bless the Lord.\n Neh. 9:5.\n\n Stand up and bless the Lord,\n Ye people of his choice;\n Stand up and bless the Lord your God,\n With heart, and soul, and voice.\n\n 2 O for the living flame,\n From his own altar brought,\n To touch our lips, our minds inspire,\n And raise to heaven our thought!\n\n 3 God is our strength and song,\n And his salvation ours;\n Then be his love in Christ proclaimed\n With all our ransomed powers.\n\n 4 Stand up and bless the Lord,\n The Lord your God adore;\n Stand up, and bless his glorious name,\n Henceforth for evermore.\n\n\n701 S. M.\n Come, we that love the Lord.\n\n Come, we that love the Lord,\n And let our joys be known;\n Join in a song with sweet accord,\n And thus surround the throne.\n\n 2 The sorrows of the mind\n Be banished from this place!\n Religion never was designed\n To make our pleasures less.\n\n 3 Let those refuse to sing\n Who never knew our God;\n But children of the heavenly King\n May speak their joys abroad.\n\n 4 The men of grace have found\n Glory begun below;\n Celestial fruits on earthly ground\n From hope and faith may grow.\n\n 5 The hill of Zion yields\n A thousand sacred sweets,\n Before we reach the heavenly fields,\n Or walk the golden streets.\n\n 6 Then let our songs abound,\n And every tear be dry;\n We're marching o'er this hallowed ground\n To fairer worlds on high.\n\n\n702 S. M.\n Come, sound his praise abroad.\n\n Come, sound his praise abroad,\n And hymns of glory sing;\n Jehovah is the sovereign God,\n The universal King.\n\n 2 He formed the deeps unknown;\n He gave the seas their bound;\n The watery worlds are all his own,\n And all the solid ground.\n\n 3 Come, worship at his throne;\n Come, bow before the Lord;\n We are his work, and not our own;\n He formed us by his word.\n\n 4 To-day attend his voice,\n Nor dare provoke his rod;\n Come, like the people of his choice,\n And own your gracious God.\n\n\n703 S. M.\n Blessed they that hunger.\n Matt. 5:6.\n\n Hungry, and faint, and poor,\n Behold us, Lord, again\n Assembled at thy mercy's door,\n Thy bounty to obtain.\n\n 2 Thy word invites us nigh,\n Or we would starve indeed;\n For we no money have to buy,\n Nor righteousness to plead.\n\n 3 The food our spirits want,\n Thy hand alone can give;\n O! hear the prayer of faith, and grant\n That we may eat and live!\n\n\n704 S. M.\n As I have seen thee in the sanctuary.\n Psalm 63:2.\n\n My God, permit my tongue\n This joy, to call thee mine;\n And let my early cries prevail,\n To taste thy love divine.\n\n 2 Within thy churches, Lord,\n I long to find my place;\n Thy power and glory to behold,\n And feel thy quickening grace.\n\n 3 Since thou hast been my help,\n To thee my spirit flies;\n And on thy watchful providence,\n My cheerful hope relies.\n\n 4 The shadow of thy wings\n My soul in safety keeps;\n I follow where my Father leads,\n And he supports my steps.\n\n\n705 S. M.\n Reunion.\n\n And are we yet alive,\n And see each other's face?\n Glory and praise to Jesus give,\n For his preserving grace.\n\n 2 What troubles have we seen!\n What conflicts have we past!\n Fightings without, and fears within,\n Since we assembled last.\n\n 3 But out of all, the Lord\n Hath brought us by his love;\n And still he doth his help afford,\n And hides our life above.\n\n 4 Then let us make our boast\n Of his redeeming power,\n Which saves us to the uttermost,\n Till we can sin no more.\n\n\n706 7s.\n Come into his courts.\n Psalm 96:8.\n\n To thy temple we repair;\n Lord, we love to worship there;\n There, within the vail, we meet\n Christ upon the mercy-seat.\n\n 2 While thy glorious name is sung,\n Tune our lips, inspire our tongue;\n Then our joyful souls shall bless\n Christ, the Lord, our Righteousness.\n\n\n707 7s.\n The unity of the Spirit.\n Eph. 4:3.\n\n Father, hear our humble claim;\n We are met in thy great name;\n In the midst do thou appear,\n Manifest thy presence here.\n\n 2 Lord, our fellowship increase;\n Knit us in the bond of peace;\n Join our hearts, O Father! join\n Each to each, and all to thine.\n\n 3 Build us in one spirit up,\n Called in one high calling's hope--\n One the spirit, one the aim,\n One the pure baptismal flame.\n\n\n708 7s.\n Wait on the Lord, etc.\n Psalm 27:14.\n\n Lord, we come before thee now;\n At thy feet we humbly bow:\n O do not our suit disdain,\n Shall we seek thee, Lord, in vain?\n\n 2 Lord, on thee our souls depend,\n In compassion now descend;\n Fill our hearts with thy rich grace;\n Tune our lips to sing thy praise.\n\n 3 In thine own appointed way,\n Now we seek thee; here we stay;\n Lord, from hence we would not go,\n Till a blessing thou bestow.\n\n 4 Comfort those who weep and mourn;\n Let the time of joy return;\n Those that are cast down, lift up;\n Make them strong in faith and hope.\n\n 5 Grant that all may seek and find\n Thee a God supremely kind;\n Heal the sick; the captive free;\n Let us all rejoice in thee.\n\n\n709 8s & 7s.\n Far from mortal cares retreating.\n\n Far from mortal cares retreating,\n Sordid hopes, and vain desires,\n Here our willing footsteps meeting,\n Every heart to heaven aspires.\n From the Fount of glory beaming,\n Light celestial cheers our eyes,\n Mercy from above proclaiming\n Peace and pardon from the skies.\n\n 2 Blessings all around bestowing,\n God withholds his care from none;\n Grace and mercy ever flowing\n From the fountain of his throne.\n Lord, with favor still attend us;\n Bless us with thy wondrous love;\n Thou, our Sun, our Shield, defend us;\n All our hope is from above.\n\n\n710 8s & 7s.\n Love divine, all love excelling.\n\n Love divine, all love excelling,\n Joy of heaven to earth come down!\n Fix in us thy humble dwelling:\n All thy faithful mercies crown;\n Jesus, thou art all compassion,\n Pure, unbounded love thou art,\n Visit us with thy salvation,\n Enter every trembling heart.\n\n 2 Breathe, O, breathe thy loving Spirit\n Into every troubled breast:\n Let us all in thee inherit,\n Let us find thy promised rest.\n Take away the love of sinning,\n Take our load of guilt away;\n End the work of thy beginning,\n Bring us to eternal day.\n\n 3 Carry on thy new creation,\n Pure and holy may we be;\n Let us see our whole salvation,\n Perfectly secured by thee;\n Change from glory into glory,\n Till in heaven we take our place;\n Till we cast our crowns before thee,\n Lost in wonder, love and praise.\n\n\n711 8s, 7s & 4s.\n The Lord is in his holy temple.\n Heb. 2:20.\n\n God is in his holy temple,\n All the earth keep silence here;\n Worship him in truth and spirit,\n Reverence him with godly fear;\n Holy, holy,\n Lord of hosts, our Lord, appear.\n\n 2 God in Christ reveals his presence,\n Throned upon the mercy-seat:\n Saints, rejoice! and sinners, tremble!\n Each prepare his God to meet:\n Lowly, lowly,\n Bow adoring at his feet.\n\n 3 Hail him here with songs of praises,\n Him with prayers of faith surround;\n Hearken to his glorious gospel,\n While the preacher's lips expound;\n Blessed, blessed,\n They who know the joyful sound.\n\n 4 Though the heaven, and heaven of heavens,\n O thou Great Unsearchable!\n Are too mean to comprehend thee,\n Thou with man art pleased to dwell;\n Welcome, welcome,\n God with us, Immanuel.\n\n\n712 8s & 6s.\n At the hour of prayer.\n Acts 3:1.\n\n Blest is the hour when cares depart,\n And earthly scenes are far--\n When tears of woe forget to start,\n And gently dawns upon the heart\n Devotion's holy star.\n\n 2 Blest is the place where angels bend\n To hear our worship rise,\n Where kindred hearts their musings blend,\n And all the soul's affections tend\n Beyond the vailing skies.\n\n 3 Blest are the hallowed vows that bind\n Man to his work of love--\n Bind him to cheer the humble mind,\n Console the weeping, lead the blind,\n And guide to joys above.\n\n 4 Sweet shall the song of glory swell,\n Saviour divine, to thee,\n When they whose work is finished well,\n In thy own courts of rest shall dwell,\n Blest through eternity.\n\n\n713 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Rejoice with trembling.\n Psalm 2:11.\n\n In thy name, O Lord, assembling,\n We thy people, now draw near;\n Teach us to rejoice with trembling;\n O that we this day may hear--\n Hear with meekness--\n Hear thy word with godly fear.\n\n 2 While our days on earth are lengthened,\n May we give them, Lord, to thee!\n Cheered by hope, and daily strengthened,\n We would run, nor weary be,\n Till thy glory,\n Without clouds, in heaven we see.\n\n 3 There, in worship, purer, sweeter,\n All thy people shall adore;\n Tasting of enjoyment greater\n Than they could conceive before;\n Full enjoyment--\n Holy bliss for evermore.\n\n\n714 H. M.\n Longing for the house of God.\n\n Lord of the worlds above,\n How pleasant and how fair\n The dwellings of thy love,\n Thy earthly temples, are!\n To thy abode my heart aspires,\n With warm desires to see my God.\n\n 2 O, happy souls, who pray\n Where God appoints to hear!\n O, happy men, who pay\n Their constant service there!\n They praise thee still; and happy they\n Who love the way to Zion's hill.\n\n 3 They go from strength to strength,\n Through this dark vale of tears,\n Till each arrives at length,\n Till each in heaven appears:\n O glorious seat, when God, our King\n Shall thither bring our willing feet.\n\n\n\n\n CLOSING HYMNS.\n\n\n715 L. M.\n He shall go in and out and find pasture.\n John 10:9.\n\n Now may the Lord our Shepherd lead\n To living streams his little flock;\n May he in flowery pastures feed;\n Shade us at noon beneath the rock!\n\n 2 Now may we hear our Shepherd's voice,\n And gladly answer to his call;\n Now may our hearts for him rejoice,\n Who knows, and names, and loves us all.\n\n 3 When the Chief Shepherd shall appear,\n And small and great before him stand,\n O, be the flock assembling here\n Found with the sheep on his right hand!\n\n\n716 L. M.\n Walking with God.\n\n Through all this life's eventful road,\n Fain would I walk with thee, my God,\n And find thy presence light around,\n And every step on holy ground.\n\n 2 Each blessing would I trace to thee;\n In every grief, thy mercy see;\n And through the paths of duty move,\n Conscious of thine encircling love.\n\n 3 And when the angel Death stands by,\n Be this my strength, that thou art nigh;\n And this my joy, that I shall be\n With those who dwell in light with thee.\n\n\n717 L. M.\n The Lord bless thee, and keep thee.\n Num. 6:24.\n\n Ere to the world again we go,\n Its pleasures, cares, and idle show,\n Thy grace, once more, O God, we crave,\n From folly and from sin to save.\n\n 2 May the great truths we here have heard--\n The lessons of thy holy Word--\n Dwell in our inmost bosoms deep,\n And all our souls from error keep.\n\n 3 O, may the influence of this day\n Long as our memory with us stay,\n And as an angel guardian prove,\n To guide us to our home above.\n\n\n718 L. M.\n Let all the people praise thee.\n Psalm 67:5.\n\n From all that dwell below the skies,\n Let the Creator's praise arise:\n Let the Redeemer's name be sung\n Through every land, by every tongue.\n\n 2 Eternal are thy mercies, Lord;\n Eternal truth attends thy word:\n Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,\n Till suns shall rise and set no more.\n\n\n719 L. M.\n Grapes from Eshcol.\n Num. 13:24.\n\n Happy the saints whose lot is cast\n Where oft is heard the gospel sound;\n The word is pleasing to their taste,\n A healing balm for every wound.\n\n 2 With joy they hasten to the place\n Where they their Saviour oft have met;\n And while they feast upon his grace,\n Their burdens and their griefs forget.\n\n 3 This favored lot, my friends, is ours;\n May we the privilege improve,\n And find these consecrated hours\n Sweet earnests of the joys above.\n\n\n720 L. M.\n A parting hymn.\n\n Come, Christian brethren, ere we part,\n Join every voice and every heart;\n One solemn hymn to God we raise,\n One final song of grateful praise.\n\n 2 Christians, we here may meet no more;\n But there is yet a happier shore;\n And there, released from toil and pain,\n Dear brethren, we shall meet again.\n\n\n721 L. M.\n Bid us all depart in peace.\n\n Dismiss us with thy blessing, Lord;\n Help us to feed upon thy word;\n All that has been amiss, forgive,\n And let thy truth within us live.\n\n 2 Though we are guilty, thou art good;\n Cleanse all our sins in Jesus' blood;\n Give every burdened soul release,\n And bid us all depart in peace.\n\n\n722 L. M.\n I will not forget thy word.\n Psalm 119:16.\n\n Lord, how delightful 'tis to see\n A whole assembly worship thee,\n At once they sing, at once they pray!\n They hear of heaven, and learn the way.\n\n 2 O write upon my memory, Lord,\n The text and doctrine of thy word;\n That I may break thy laws no more,\n But love thee better than before.\n\n\n723 L. M. D.\n Striving together for the faith, etc.\n Phil. 1:27.\n\n Lord, cause thy face on us to shine;\n Give us thy peace, and seal us thine;\n Teach us to prize the means of grace,\n And love thine earthly dwelling-place,\n One is our faith, and one our Lord;\n One body, spirit, hope, reward:\n May we in one communion be,\n One with each other, one with thee.\n\n 2 Bless all whose voice salvation brings,\n Who minister in holy things;\n Our pastors, rulers, deacons, bless;\n Clothe them with zeal and righteousness:\n Let many in the judgment day,\n Turned from the error of their way,\n Their hope, their joy, their crown, appear:\n Save those who preach, and those who hear.\n\n\n724 L. M.\n Lord, now we part in thy blest name.\n\n Lord, now we part in thy blest name,\n In which we here together came;\n Grant us our few remaining days,\n To work thy will and spread thy praise.\n\n 2 Teach us, in life and death, to bless\n Thee, Lord, our strength and righteousness;\n And grant us all to meet above,\n Where we shall better sing thy love!\n\n\n725 L. M.\n The pillar and cloud.\n\n O present still, though still unseen,\n When brightly shines the prosperous day,\n Be thoughts of thee a cloudy screen,\n To temper the deceitful ray!\n\n 2 And, O, when gathers on our path\n In shade and storm the frequent night,\n Be thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath,\n A burning and a shining light.\n\n\n726 L. M.\n \"Up to the hills, I lift mine eyes.\"\n Psalm 121.\n\n Up to the hills I lift mine eyes,\n Th' eternal hills beyond the skies;\n Thence all her help my soul derives,\n There my almighty Refuge lives.\n\n 2 He lives--the everlasting God\n That built the world, that spread the flood;\n The heavens with all their hosts he made,\n And the dark regions of the dead.\n\n 3 He guides our feet, he guards our way;\n His morning smiles bless all the day;\n He spreads the evening vail, and keeps\n The silent hours, while Israel sleeps.\n\n 4 Israel, a name divinely blest,\n May rise secure, securely rest;\n Thy holy Guardian's wakeful eyes\n Admit no slumber, nor surprise.\n\n 5 Should earth and hell with malice burn,\n Still thou shalt go, and still return,\n Safe in the Lord; his heavenly care\n Defends thy life from every snare.\n\n\n727 L. M.\n Give him the thanks his love demands.\n\n To God the great, the ever-blest,\n Let songs of honor be addressed!\n His mercy firm for ever stands;\n Give him the thanks his love demands!\n\n 2 Who knows the wonder of his ways?\n Who can make known his boundless praise?\n Blest are the souls that fear him still,\n And learn submission to his will.\n\n\n728 L. M.\n Doxology.\n\n Praise God, ye heavenly hosts above!\n Praise him all creatures of his love!\n Praise him each morning, noon and night,\n Praise him with holy sweet delight!\n\n\n729 C. M.\n Thou leadest thy people like a flock.\n Psalm 77:20.\n\n Thou art our Shepherd, glorious God!\n Thy little flock behold,\n And guide us by thy staff and rod,\n The children of thy fold.\n\n 2 We praise thy name that we were brought\n To this delightful place,\n Where we are watched, and warned, and taught,\n The children of thy grace.\n\n 3 May all our friends, thy servants here,\n Meet with us all above,\n And we and they in heaven appear,\n The children of thy love.\n\n\n730 C. M.\n Prayer for divine direction.\n\n Internal Source of life and light!\n Supremely good and wise!\n To thee we bring our grateful vows,\n To thee lift up our eyes.\n\n 2 Our dark and erring minds illume\n With truth's celestial rays;\n Inspire our hearts with sacred love,\n And tune our lips to praise.\n\n 3 Safely conduct us, by thy grace,\n Through life's perplexing road;\n And place us, when that journey's o'er,\n At thy right hand, O God!\n\n\n731 C. M.\n The seed of the word.\n\n O God, by whom the seed is given,\n By whom the harvest blest;\n Whose word, like manna showered from heaven,\n Is planted in our breast;\n\n 2 Preserve it from the passing feet,\n And plunderers of the air;\n The sultry's sun's intenser heat,\n And weeds of worldly care!\n\n 3 Though buried deep, or thinly strewn,\n Do thou thy grace supply;\n The hope, in earthly furrows sown,\n Shall ripen in the sky.\n\n\n732 C. M.\n Parting in hope.\n\n Lord, when together here we meet,\n And taste thy heavenly grace,\n Thy smiles are so divinely sweet,\n We're loath to leave the place.\n\n 2 Yet, Father, since it is thy will\n That we must part again,\n O let thy gracious presence still\n With every one remain!\n\n 3 Then let us all in Christ be one,\n Bound with the cords of love,\n Till we, around thy glorious throne,\n Shall joyous meet above:\n\n 4 Where sin and sorrow from each heart\n Shall then for ever fly,\n And not one thought that we shall part\n Once interrupt our joy.\n\n\n733 C. M.\n The good Seed.\n\n Almighty God, thy word is cast\n Like seed into the ground;\n Now let the dew of heaven descend,\n And righteous fruits abound.\n\n 2 Let not the foe of Christ and man\n This holy seed remove:\n But give it root in every heart,\n To bring forth fruits of love.\n\n\n734 C. M.\n Glory to God.\n\n Glory to God! who deigns to bless\n This consecrated day,\n Unfolds his wondrous promises,\n And makes it sweet to pray.\n\n 2 Glory to God! who deigns to hear\n The humblest sigh we raise,\n And answers every heartfelt prayer,\n And hears our hymn of praise.\n\n\n735 S. M.\n Peace I leave with you.\n John 14:27.\n\n Lord, at this closing hour,\n Establish every heart\n Upon thy word of truth and power\n To keep us when we part.\n\n 2 Peace to our brethren give;\n Fill all our hearts with love;\n In faith and patience may we live,\n And seek our rest above.\n\n 3 Through changes, bright or drear,\n We would thy will pursue;\n And toil to spread thy kingdom here\n Till we its glory view.\n\n 4 To God, the Only Wise,\n In every age adored;\n Let glory from the church arise\n Through Jesus Christ our Lord.\n\n\n736 S. M.\n To the only wise God, our Saviour.\n Jude 24;25.\n\n To God, the Only Wise,\n Our Saviour and our King;\n Let all the saints below the skies\n Their humble praises bring.\n\n 2 'Tis his almighty love,\n His counsel and his care,\n Preserve us safe from sin and death,\n And every hurtful snare.\n\n 3 He will present our souls,\n Unblemished and complete,\n Before the glory of his face,\n With joys divinely great.\n\n 4 Then all the chosen seed\n Shall meet around the throne,\n Shall bless the conduct of his grace,\n And make his wonders known.\n\n 5 To our Redeemer, God,\n Wisdom and power belong,\n Immortal crowns of majesty,\n And everlasting song.\n\n\n737 S. M.\n God be merciful to us.\n Psalm 67:1.\n\n To bless thy chosen race,\n In mercy, Lord, incline;\n And cause the brightness of thy face\n On all thy saints to shine;--\n\n 2 That so thy wondrous way\n May through the world be known:\n While distant lands their homage pay,\n And thy salvation own.\n\n 3 Let all the nations join\n To celebrate thy fame;\n And all the world, Lord, combine,\n To praise thy glorious name.\n\n\n738 S. M.\n Waiting in hope.\n\n Soon we shall meet again\n When all our toils are o'er,\n Where sin, and death, and grief, and pain,\n And parting are no more.\n\n 2 O, happy, happy day\n That calls thy exiles home;\n The flaming heavens shall pass away,\n The earth receive her doom.\n\n 3 Saviour, we wait the sound\n That shall our souls release,\n And labor that we may be found\n Of thee in perfect peace.\n\n\n739 S. M.\n Absent in the flesh--present in the spirit.\n\n And let our bodies part,\n To different climes repair;\n Still and for ever joined in heart\n The friends of Jesus are.\n\n 2 O let us still proceed\n In Jesus' work below;\n And following our triumphant Head,\n To further conquests go.\n\n 3 O let our heart and mind,\n Great God, to thee ascend,\n That haven of repose to find,\n Where all our labors end;\n\n 4 Where all our toils are o'er,\n Our suffering and our pain:\n Who meet on that eternal shore\n Shall never part again.\n\n\n740 S. M.\n The spread of truth.\n\n Thy name, almighty Lord,\n Shall sound through distant lands:\n Great is thy grace, and sure thy word;\n Thy truth for ever stands.\n\n 2 Far be thine honor spread,\n And long thy praise endure,\n Till morning light and evening shade\n Shall be exchanged no more.\n\n\n741 S. M.\n Blessedness of the pure in heart.\n\n Blest are the pure in heart\n For they shall see our God;\n The secret of the Lord is theirs;\n Their soul is his abode.\n\n 2 Still to the lowly soul\n He doth himself impart,\n And for his temple and his throne\n Selects the pure in heart.\n\n\n742 7s. peculiar.\n Head of the Church triumphant.\n\n Head of the Church triumphant!\n We joyfully adore thee;\n Till thou appear, thy members here\n Shall sing like those in glory.\n\n 2 We lift our hearts and voices\n In blest anticipation,\n And cry aloud, and give to God\n The praise of our salvation.\n\n\n743 7s.\n Psalm 117.\n\n All ye nations, praise the Lord;\n All ye lands, your voices raise;\n Heaven and earth, with loud accord\n Praise the Lord, for ever praise.\n\n 2 For his truth and mercy stand,\n Past, and present, and to be,\n Like the years of his right hand,\n Like his own eternity.\n\n\n744 7s.\n Supplication--with thanksgiving.\n Phil. 4:6.\n\n Thanks for mercies past receive;\n Pardon of our sins renew;\n Teach us, henceforth, how to live\n With eternity in view.\n\n 2 Blest thy word to old and young,\n Grant us, Lord, thy peace and love;\n And, when life's short race is run,\n Take us to thy house above.\n\n\n745 7s, double.\n Guide us, Lord.\n\n Guide us, Lord! while, hand in hand,\n Journing toward the better land;\n Foes we know are to be met,\n Snares the pilgrim's path beset;\n Clouds upon the valley rest,\n Rough and dark the mountain's breast;\n And our home can not be gained,\n Save through trials well sustained.\n\n 2 Guide us while we onward move,\n Linked in closest bonds of love,\n Striving for the holy mind,\n And the soul from sense refined;\n That when life no longer burns,\n And the dust to dust returns,\n With the strength which thou hast given,\n We may rise to thee and heaven.\n\n\n746 7s.\n The God of Peace--make you perfect.\n Heb. 13:20.\n\n Now may he, who from the dead\n Brought the Shepherd of the sheep,\n Jesus Christ our King and Head,\n All our souls in safety keep!\n\n 2 May he teach us to fulfill\n What is pleasing in his sight;\n Perfect us in all his will,\n And preserve us day and night.\n\n 3 Great Redeemer! thee we praise,\n Who the covenant sealed with blood\n While our hearts and voices raise\n Loud thanksgiving unto God.\n\n\n747 7s.\n Col 1:11, 12.\n\n Glorious in thy saints appear;\n Plant thy heavenly kingdom here;\n Light and life to all impart;\n Shine on each believing heart;\n\n 2 And, in every grace complete,\n Make us, Lord, for glory meet;\n Till we stand before thy sight,\n Partners with the saints in light.\n\n\n748 7s.\n I will never leave thee.\n Heb. 13:5.\n\n For a season called to part,\n Let us now ourselves commend\n To the gracious eye and heart\n Of our ever-present Friend.\n\n 2 Jesus, hear our humble prayer;\n Tender Shepherd of thy sheep,\n Let thy mercy and thy care\n All our souls in safety keep.\n\n 3 In thy strength may we be strong;\n Sweeten every cross and pain;\n Give us, if thou wilt, ere long\n Here to meet in peace again.\n\n\n749 7s. double.\n Doxology.\n\n Father! glory be to thee,\n Source of all the good we see!\n Glory for the blessed Light\n Rising on the ancient night!\n Glory for the hopes that come\n Streaming through the silent tomb!\n Glory for thy Spirit given,\n Guiding us in peace to heaven!\n\n\n750 8s & 7s.\n The salutation of peace.\n\n Peace be to this congregation!\n Peace to every heart therein!\n Peace, the earnest of salvation,\n Peace, the fruit of conquered sin;\n\n 2 Peace, that speaks the heavenly Giver,\n Peace, to worldly minds unknown,\n Peace, that floweth, as a river,\n From the eternal Source alone.\n\n 3 O thou God of Peace! be near us,\n Fix within our hearts thy home;\n With thy bright appearing cheer us,\n In thy blessed freedom come.\n\n 4 Come, with all thy revelations,\n Truth which we so long have sought;\n Come with thy deep consolations,\n Peace of God which passeth thought!\n\n\n751 8s & 7s.\n Closing hymn.\n\n Israel's Shepherd, guide me, feed me,\n Through my pilgrimage below,\n And beside the waters lead me,\n Where thy flock rejoicing go.\n\n 2 Lord, thy guardian presence ever,\n Meekly kneeling, I implore;\n I have found thee, and would never,\n Never wander from thee more.\n\n\n752 8s & 7s.\n Apostolic benediction.\n\n May the grace of Christ, our Saviour,\n And the Father's boundless love,\n With the Holy Spirit's favor,\n Rest upon us from above.\n\n 2 Thus may we abide in union\n With each other and the Lord;\n And possess, in sweet communion,\n Joys which earth can not afford.\n\n\n753 8s & 7s.\n Praise to Christ.\n\n Worship, honor, glory, blessing,\n Be to him who reigns above!\n Young and old thy Name confessing,\n Saviour! let us share thy love!\n\n 2 As the saints in heaven adore thee,\n We would bow before thy throne;\n As thine angels bow before thee,\n So on earth thy will be done!\n\n\n754 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Dismission.\n\n Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing,\n Fill our hearts with joy and peace;\n Let us each, thy love possessing,\n Triumph in redeeming grace;\n O refresh us!\n Traveling through this wilderness.\n\n 2 Thanks we give and adoration\n For the gospel's joyful sound;\n May the fruits of thy salvation\n In our hearts and lives abound;\n May thy presence\n With us evermore be found.\n\n 3 So, whene'er the signal's given\n Us from earth to call away;\n Borne on angel's wings to heaven\n Glad the summons to obey,\n May we ready,\n Rise and reign in endless day.\n\n\n755 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Keep us, Lord.\n\n Keep us, Lord, oh, keep us ever!\n Vain our hope, if left by thee;\n We are thine; oh, leave us never,\n Till thy glorious face we see!\n Then to praise thee\n Through a bright eternity.\n\n 2 Precious is thy word of promise,\n Precious to thy people here;\n Never take thy presence from us,\n Jesus, Saviour, still be near;\n Living, dying,\n May thy name our spirits cheer.\n\n\n756 8s, 7s & 4s.\n God of our salvation, hear us.\n\n God of our salvation, hear us;\n Bless, O bless us, ere we go;\n When we join the world, be near us,\n Lest we cold and careless grow;\n Saviour, keep us--\n Keep us safe from every foe.\n\n 2 As our steps are drawing nearer\n To the place we call our home,\n May our view of heaven grow clearer,\n Hope more bright of joys to come;\n And when dying,\n May thy presence cheer the gloom.\n\n\n757 7s & 6s.\n Praise for salvation.\n\n To thee be praise for ever,\n Thou glorious King of kings!\n Thy wondrous love and favor\n Each ransomed spirit sings.\n\n 2 We'll celebrate thy glory,\n With all thy saints above,\n And shout the joyful story\n Of thy redeeming love.\n\n\n758 H. M.\n To God, and the word of his grace.\n Acts 20:32.\n\n To thee our wants are known,\n From thee are all our powers;\n Accept what is thine own,\n And pardon what is ours:\n Our praises, Lord, and prayers, receive,\n And to thy words a blessing give.\n\n 2 O, grant that each of us\n Now met before thee here,\n May meet together thus,\n When thou and thine appear:\n To thy blest presence may we come\n And dwell in an eternal home.\n\n\n759 P. M.\n Show me a token for good.\n Psalm 86:17.\n\n Of thy love some gracious token\n Grant us, Lord, before we go;\n Bless thy word which has been spoken;\n Life and peace on all bestow!\n When we join the world again,\n Let our hearts with thee remain;\n O direct us\n And protect us,\n Till we gain the heavenly shore\n Where thy people want no more!\n\n\n\n\n THE NEW LIFE--TRUST AND JOY.\n\n\n760 L. M.\n The peace of God.\n Phil. 4:7.\n\n O peace of God, sweet peace of God!\n Where broods on earth this gentle dove!\n Where spread those pure and downy wings\n To shelter him whom God doth love?\n\n 2 Whence comes this blessing of the soul,\n This silent joy which can not fade?\n This glory, tranquil, holy, bright,\n Pervading sorrow's deepest shade?\n\n 3 The peace of God, the peace of God!\n It shines as clear 'mid cloud and storm\n As in the calmest summer day,\n 'Mid chill as in the sunlight warm.\n\n 4 O peace of God! earth hath no power\n To shed thine unction o'er the heart;\n Its smile can never bring it here--\n Its frown ne'er bid its light depart.\n\n 5 Calm peace of God, in holy trust,\n In love and faith, thy presence dwells--\n In patient suffering and toil\n Where mercy's gentle tear-drop swells.\n\n 6 Sweet peace! O let thy heavenly ray\n Shed its calm radiance o'er my road;\n Its kindly light shall cheer me on--\n Guide to the endless peace of God.\n\n\n761 L. M.\n God our Father.\n\n Is there a lone and dreary hour,\n When worldly pleasures lose their power?\n My Father! let me turn to thee,\n And set each thought of darkness free.\n\n 2 Is there a time of rushing grief,\n Which scorns the prospect of relief?\n My Father! break the cheerless gloom,\n And bid my heart its calm resume.\n\n 3 Is there an hour of peace and joy\n When hope is all my soul's employ?\n My Father! still my hopes will roam,\n Until they rest with thee, their home.\n\n 4 The noontide blaze, the midnight scene,\n The dawn, or twilight's sweet serene,\n The glow of life, the dying hour,\n Shall own my Father's grace and power.\n\n\n762 L. M. D.\n The secret place of the Most High.\n Psalm 91:1.\n\n O this is blessing, this is rest!\n Into thine arms, O Lord! I flee;\n I hide me in thy faithful breast,\n And pour out all my soul to thee,\n Now, hushing every adverse sound,\n Songs of defense my soul surround,\n As if all saints encamped about\n One trusting heart, pursued by doubt.\n\n 2 And O, how solemn, yet how sweet,\n Their one assured, persuasive strain!\n \"The Lord of hosts is thy retreat,\n Still in his hands thy times remain.\"\n O tender word! O truth divine!\n Lord, I am altogether thine;\n I have bowed down, I need not flee;\n Peace, peace is found in trusting thee.\n\n 3 And now I count supremely kind\n The rule that once I thought severe;\n And precious, to my altered mind,\n At length thy kind reproofs appear.\n I must be taught what I would know,\n I must be led where I should go:\n And all the rest ordained for me,\n Is to be found in trusting thee.\n\n\n763 L. M.\n The repose of faith.\n\n O Father! gladly we repose\n Our souls on thee, who dwellest above,\n And bless thee for the peace which flows\n From faith in thine encircling love.\n\n 2 Though every earthly trust may break,\n Infinite might belongs to thee;\n Though every earthly friend forsake,\n Unchangeable thou still wilt be.\n\n 3 Though griefs may gather darkly round,\n They can not vail us from thy sight;\n Though vain all human aid be found,\n Thou every grief canst turn to light.\n\n 4 All things thy wise designs fulfill,\n In earth beneath, and heaven above,\n And good breaks out from every ill,\n Through faith in thine encircling love.\n\n\n764 L. M. 6 lines.\n God is my light and my salvation.\n Psalm 27:1.\n\n Fountain of light, and living breath,\n Whose mercies never fail nor fade,\n Fill me with life that hath no death,\n Fill me with light that hath no shade;\n Appoint the remnant of my days\n To see thy power, and sing thy praise.\n\n 2 O Lord, our God, before whose throne\n Stand storms and fire, O what shall we\n Return to heaven, that is our own,\n When all the world belongs to thee?\n We have no offering to impart,\n But praises, and a broken heart.\n\n 3 O thou who sittest in heaven and seest\n My deeds without, my thoughts within,\n Be thou my prince, be thou my priest--\n Command my soul, and cure my sin:\n How bitter my afflictions be,\n I care not, so I rise to thee.\n\n 4 What I possess, or what I crave,\n Brings no content, great God, to me,\n If what I would, or what I have,\n Be not possessed and blest in thee:\n What I enjoy, O, make it mine,\n In making me--that have it--thine.\n\n\n765 L. M.\n I delight to do thy will, O my God.\n Psalm 40:8.\n\n O Lord, thy heavenly grace impart,\n And fix my frail, inconstant heart;\n Henceforth my chief delight shall be\n To dedicate myself to thee,\n To thee, my God, to thee.\n\n 2 Whate'er pursuits my time employ,\n One thought shall fill my soul with joy;\n That silent, secret thought shall be,\n That all my hopes are fixed on thee,\n On thee, my God, on thee.\n\n 3 Thy glorious eye pervadeth space;\n Thy presence, Lord, fills every place;\n And, wheresoe'er my lot may be,\n Still shall my spirit cleave to thee,\n To thee, my God, to thee.\n\n 4 Renouncing every worldly thing,\n And safe beneath thy sheltering wing,\n My sweetest thought henceforth shall be,\n That all I want I find in thee,\n In thee, my God, in thee.\n\n\n766 L. M. 6 lines.\n My soul trusteth in thee.\n Psalm 57:1.\n\n Do not I trust in thee, O Lord?\n Do I not rest in thee alone?\n Is not the comfort of thy word\n The sweetest cordial I have known?\n When vexed with care, bowed down with grief,\n Where else could I obtain relief?\n\n 2 And is it not my chief desire\n To feel as if a stranger here?\n Do not my hopes and thoughts aspire\n Beyond this transitory sphere?\n And art thou not, while here I roam,\n My hope, my hiding-place, my home?\n\n 3 O, yes! these things are ever true;\n Thy promise is for ever sure;\n And all I now am passing through,\n And all that I may still endure,\n Will but endear thy word to me,\n And draw me nearer, Lord, to thee.\n\n 4 And now on thee I cast my soul,\n Come life or death, come ease or pain;\n Thy presence can each fear control,\n Thy grace can to the end sustain:\n Those whom thou lovest, heavenly Friend,\n Thou lovest even to the end!\n\n\n767 L. M.\n Repose in God's wisdom.\n\n Whither, O whither should I fly,\n But to my loving Father's breast!\n Secure within thine arms to lie,\n And safe beneath thy wings to rest!\n\n 2 In all my ways thy hand I own,\n Thy ruling providence I see:\n Assist me still my course to run,\n And still direct my paths to thee.\n\n 3 I have no skill the snare to shun;\n But thou, O God, my wisdom art;\n I ever into ruin run;\n But thou art greater than my heart.\n\n 4 Foolish, and impotent, and blind,\n Lead me a way I have not known;\n Bring me where I my heaven may find,\n The heaven of loving thee alone.\n\n\n768 L. M. 6 lines.\n He leadeth me.\n\n \"He leadeth me!\" O! blessed thought,\n O! words with heavenly comfort fraught,\n Whate'er I do, whate'er I be,\n Still 'tis God's hand that leadeth me!\n He leadeth me! he leadeth me!\n By his own hand he leadeth me.\n\n 2 Sometimes 'midst scenes of deepest gloom,\n Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom;\n By waters still, o'er troubled sea--\n Still 'tis his hand that leadeth me!\n He leadeth me! he leadeth me!\n By his own hand he leadeth me.\n\n 3 Lord, I would clasp thy hands in mine,\n Nor ever murmur nor repine--\n Content, whatever lot I see,\n Since 'tis my God that leadeth me!\n He leadeth me! he leadeth me!\n By his own hand he leadeth me.\n\n 4 And when my task on earth is done,\n When, by thy grace, the victory's won;\n E'en death's cold wave I will not flee,\n Since God through Jordan leadeth me!\n He leadeth me! he leadeth me!\n By his own hand he leadeth me.\n\n\n769 C. M.\n Thou art my soul's bright morning star.\n\n My God, the spring of all my joys,\n The life of my delights,\n The glory of my brightest days,\n The comfort of my nights!\n\n 2 In darkest shades, if thou appear,\n My dawning is begun;\n Thou art my soul's bright morning star,\n And thou my rising sun.\n\n 3 The opening heavens around me shine\n With beams of sacred bliss,\n While Jesus shows his mercy mine,\n And whispers I am his.\n\n 4 My soul would leave this heavy clay\n At that transporting word,\n And run with joy the shining way\n To meet my dearest Lord.\n\n\n770 C. M.\n Rejoice in the Lord always.\n Phil. 4:4.\n\n Rejoice, believers in the Lord,\n Who makes your cause his own;\n The hope that's built upon his word,\n Can ne'er be overthrown.\n\n 2 Though many foes beset your road,\n And feeble is your arm,\n Your life is hid in Christ your God\n Beyond the reach of harm.\n\n 3 Weak as you are, you shall not faint,\n Or fainting, shall not die;\n Jesus, the strength of every saint,\n Will aid you from on high.\n\n 4 As surely as he overcame,\n And triumphed once for you;\n So surely you that love his name,\n Shall triumph in him too.\n\n\n771 C. M.\n Call me thy servant, Lord.\n\n O not to fill the mouth of fame,\n My longing soul is stirred:\n But give me a diviner name;\n Call me thy servant, Lord!\n\n 2 No longer would my soul be known\n As uncontrolled and free;\n O, not mine own! O, not mine own!\n Lord, I belong to thee.\n\n 3 Thy servant--me thy servant choose,\n Nought of thy claim abate!\n The glorious name I would not lose,\n Nor change the sweet estate.\n\n 4 In life, in death, on earth, in heaven,\n This is the name for me;\n And be the same dear title given\n Through all eternity.\n\n\n772 C. M.\n Psalm 1.\n\n Blest is the man who shuns the place\n Where sinners love to meet,\n Who fears to tread their wicked ways,\n And hates the scoffer's seat:\n\n 2 But in the statutes of the Lord,\n Has placed his chief delight;\n By day he reads or hears the word,\n And meditates by night.\n\n 3 Green as the leaf, and ever fair,\n Shall his profession shine:\n While fruits of holiness appear\n Like clusters on the vine.\n\n 4 Not so the impious and unjust:\n What vain designs they form!\n Their hopes are blown away like dust,\n Or chaff before the storm.\n\n 5 Sinners in judgment shall not stand\n Among the sons of grace,\n When Christ the judge at his right hand\n Appoints his saints a place.\n\n 6 His eyes behold the path they tread,\n His heart approves it well;\n But crooked ways of sinners lead\n Down to the gates of hell.\n\n\n773 C. M. D.\n O lead us gently on.\n\n Father of love, our Guide and Friend,\n O, lead us gently on,\n Until life's trial-time shall end,\n And heavenly peace be won!\n We know not what the path may be\n As yet by us untrod;\n But we can trust our all to thee,\n Our Father and our God.\n\n 2 If called, like Abraham's child, to climb\n The hill of sacrifice,\n Some angel may be there in time;\n Deliverance shall arise:\n Or, if some darker lot be good,\n O, teach us to endure\n The sorrow, pain, or solitude,\n That make the spirit pure!\n\n\n774 C. M.\n Thou art my portion, O Lord.\n Psalm 119:57.\n\n Thou art my portion, O my God;\n Soon as I know thy way,\n My heart makes haste t' obey thy word,\n And suffers no delay.\n\n 2 I choose the path of heavenly truth,\n And glory in my choice;\n Not all the riches of the earth\n Could make me so rejoice.\n\n 3 The testimonies of thy grace\n I set before mine eyes;\n Thence I derive my daily strength,\n And there my comfort lies.\n\n 4 If once I wander from thy path,\n I think upon my ways;\n Then turn my feet to thy commands,\n And trust thy pardoning grace.\n\n 5 Now I am thine, for ever thine;\n O, save thy servant, Lord:\n Thou art my shield, my hiding-place,\n My hope is in thy word.\n\n\n775 C. M. 6 lines.\n The spirit of a little child.\n\n Father, I know that all my life\n Is portioned out for me;\n The changes that will surely come,\n I do not fear to see:\n I ask thee for a present mind,\n Intent on pleasing thee.\n\n 2 I ask thee for a thoughtful love,\n Through constant watching wise,\n To meet the glad with joyful smiles,\n And wipe the weeping eyes;\n A heart at leisure from itself,\n To soothe and sympathize.\n\n 3 I would not have the restless will\n That hurries to and fro,\n That seeks for some great thing to do,\n Or secret thing to know:\n I would be treated as a child,\n And guided where I go.\n\n 4 Wherever in the world I am,\n In whatsoe'er estate,\n I have a fellowship with hearts,\n To keep and cultivate;\n A work of lowly love to do\n For him on whom I wait.\n\n\n776 C. M.\n Christ loved unseen.\n 1 Peter 1:8.\n\n Jesus, these eyes have never seen\n That radiant form of thine!\n The vail of sense hangs dark between\n Thy blessed face and mine!\n\n 2 I see thee not, I hear thee not,\n Yet art thou oft with me;\n And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot,\n As where I meet with thee.\n\n 3 Like some bright dream that comes unsought,\n When slumbers o'er me roll,\n Thine image ever fills my thought,\n And charms my ravished soul.\n\n 4 Yet though I have not seen, and still\n Must rest in faith alone;\n I love thee, dearest Lord! and will,\n Unseen, but not unknown.\n\n 5 When death these mortal eyes shall seal,\n And still this throbbing heart,\n The rending vail shall thee reveal,\n All glorious as thou art!\n\n\n777 C. L. M.\n Job. 1:21.\n\n When I can trust my all with God,\n In trial's fearful hour--\n Bow all resigned beneath his rod,\n And bless his sparing power;\n A joy springs up amid distress,\n A fountain in the wilderness.\n\n 2 O! to be brought to Jesus' feet,\n Though trials fix me there,\n Is still a privilege most sweet;\n For he will hear my prayer;\n Though sighs and tears its language be,\n The Lord is nigh to answer me.\n\n 3 Then, blessed be the hand that gave,\n Still blessed when it takes;\n Blessed be he who smites to save,\n Who heals the heart he breaks;\n Perfect and true are all his ways,\n Whom heaven adores and death obeys.\n\n\n778 S. M.\n That Rock was Christ.\n 1 Cor. 10:4.\n\n Israel the desert trod,\n Sustained by power divine,\n While wondrous mercy marked the road\n With many a mystic sign.\n\n 2 When Moses gave the stroke,\n From Horeb's flinty side\n Issued a river, and the rock\n The Hebrew's thirst supplied.\n\n 3 But O! what nobler themes\n Does gospel grace afford!\n From Calvary spring superior streams--\n There hung the smitten Lord!\n\n 4 Of every hope bereft,\n Sinners to Jesus go;\n Behold the Rock of Ages cleft,\n And living currents flow.\n\n 5 Here may our spirits bathe,\n Here may our joys abound!\n Till (passed the wilderness and death)\n We tread celestial ground.\n\n\n779 S. M.\n Having all in Christ.\n\n My spirit on thy care,\n Blest Saviour, I recline;\n Thou wilt not leave me to despair,\n For thou art love divine.\n\n 2 In thee I place my trust;\n On thee I calmly rest:\n I know thee good, I know thee just,\n And count thy choice the best.\n\n 3 Whate'er events betide,\n Thy will they all perform;\n Safe in thy breast my head I hide,\n Nor fear the coming storm.\n\n 4 Let good or ill befall,\n It must be good for me--\n Secure of having thee in all\n Of having all in thee.\n\n\n780 7s.\n Make me like a little child.\n\n Jesus, cast a look on me!\n Give me true simplicity:\n Make me poor and keep me low,\n Seeking only thee to know.\n\n 2 All that feeds my busy pride,\n Cast it evermore aside:\n Bid my will to thine submit:\n Lay me humbly at thy feet.\n\n 3 Make me like a little child,\n Simple, teachable, and mild;\n Seeing only in thy light;\n Walking only in thy might!\n\n 4 Leaning on thy loving breast,\n Where a weary soul may rest;\n Feeling well the peace of God\n Flowing from thy precious blood!\n\n\n781 P. M.\n Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel.\n Psalm 73:24.\n\n My Shepherd's mighty aid,\n His dear redeeming love,\n His all-protecting power displayed,\n I joy to prove.\n Led onward by my Guide,\n I tread the beauteous scene,\n Where tranquil waters gently glide\n Through pastures green.\n\n 2 In error's maze my soul\n Shall wander now no more;\n His Spirit shall, with sweet control,\n The lost restore.\n My willing steps he'll lead\n In paths of righteousness;\n His power defend, his bounty feed,\n His mercy bless.\n\n 3 Affliction's deepest gloom\n Shall but his love display;\n He will the vale of death illume\n With living ray.\n I lean upon his rod,\n And thankfully adore;\n My heart shall vindicate my God\n For evermore.\n\n 4 His goodness ever nigh,\n His mercy ever free,\n Shall while I live, shall when I die\n Still follow me.\n For ever shall my soul\n His boundless blessings prove,\n And, while eternal ages roll,\n Adore and love.\n\n\n782 7s.\n The pearl of great price.\n\n 'Tis religion that can give\n Sweetest pleasure while we live;\n 'Tis religion must supply\n Solid comfort when we die.\n\n 2 After death, its joys will be\n Lasting as eternity!\n Be the living God my friend,\n Then my bliss shall never end.\n\n\n783 8s & 7s.\n Except the Lord build the house.\n Psalm 127:1.\n\n Vainly through night's weary hours,\n Keep we watch lest foes alarm;\n Vain our bulwarks, and our towers,\n But for God's protecting arm.\n\n 2 Vain were all our toil and labor,\n Did not God that labor bless;\n Vain, without his grace and favor,\n Every talent we possess.\n\n 3 Vainer still the hope of heaven\n That on human strength relies;\n But to him shall help be given\n Who in humble faith applies.\n\n 4 Seek we, then, the Lord's Anointed;\n He shall grant us peace and rest:\n Ne'er was suppliant disappointed\n Who through Christ his prayer addressed.\n\n\n784 7s.\n 1 John 4:19.\n\n Saviour! teach me, day by day,\n Love's sweet lessons to obey;\n Sweeter lessons can not be,\n Loving him who first loved me.\n\n 2 With a child-like heart of love,\n At thy bidding may I move;\n Prompt to serve and follow thee,\n Loving him who first loved me.\n\n 3 Teach me all thy steps to trace,\n Strong to follow in thy grace;\n Learning how to love from thee,\n Loving him who first loved me.\n\n 4 Love in loving finds employ--\n In obedience all her joy;\n Ever new that joy will be,\n Loving him who first loved me.\n\n 5 Thus may I rejoice to show\n That I feel the love I owe;\n Singing, till thy face I see,\n Of his love who first loved me.\n\n\n785 7s & 6s.\n I will fear no evil.\n Psalm 23:4.\n\n In heavenly love abiding,\n No change my heart shall fear;\n And safe is such confiding,\n For nothing changes here.\n The storm may roar without me,\n My heart may low be laid,\n But God is round about me,\n And can I be dismayed?\n\n 2 Wherever he may guide me,\n No want shall turn me back:\n My Shepherd is beside me,\n And nothing can I lack.\n His wisdom ever waketh,\n His sight is never dim;\n He knows the way he taketh,\n And I will walk with him.\n\n 3 Green pastures are before me,\n Which yet I have not seen;\n Bright skies will soon be o'er me,\n Where the dark clouds have been.\n My hope I can not measure,\n My path to life is free,\n My Saviour has my treasure,\n And he will walk with me.\n\n\n786 6s & 4s.\n Be thou my strong Rock.\n Psalm 31:2.\n\n O strong to save and bless,\n My Rock and Righteousness,\n Draw near to me;\n Blessing, and joy, and might,\n Wisdom, and love, and light,\n Are all with thee.\n\n 2 My Refuge and my Rest,\n As child on mother's breast\n I lean on thee;\n From faintness and from fear,\n When foes and ill are near,\n Deliver me.\n\n 3 O, answer me, my God;\n Thy love is deep and broad,\n Thy grace is true;\n Thousands this grace have shared;\n O, let _me_ now be heard,\n O, love _me_, too.\n\n\n787 P. M.\n It is well.\n 2 Kings 4:26.\n\n Through the love of God our Saviour,\n All will be well:\n Free and changeless is his favor;\n All, all is well:\n Precious is the blood that healed us;\n Perfect is the grace that sealed us;\n Strong the hand stretched out to shield us;\n All must be well;\n\n 2 Though we pass through tribulation,\n All will be well:\n Ours is such a full salvation;\n All, all is well:\n Happy, still in God confiding,\n Fruitful, if in Christ abiding,\n Holy, through the Spirit's guiding,\n All must be well.\n\n 3 We expect a bright to-morrow;\n All will be well;\n Faith can sing through days of sorrow,\n All, all is well;\n On our Father's love relying,\n Jesus every need supplying,\n Or in living, or in dying,\n All must be well.\n\n\n788 4s & 6s.\n Trust in God amid perils.\n\n In time of fear,\n When trouble's near,\n I look to thine abode;\n Though helpers fail,\n And foes prevail,\n I'll put my trust in God.\n\n 2 And what is life\n But toil and strife?\n What terror has the grave?\n Thine arm of power,\n In peril's hour,\n The trembling soul will save.\n\n 3 In darkest skies,\n Though storms arise,\n I will not be dismayed:\n O God of light,\n And boundless might,\n My soul on thee is stayed!\n\n\n789 11s.\n Acquaint now thyself with him.\n Job. 22:21.\n\n Acquaint thee, O mortal, acquaint thee with God,\n And joy, like the sunshine, shall beam on thy road;\n And peace, like the dewdrop, shall fall on thy head,\n And sleep, like an angel, shall visit thy bed.\n\n 2 Acquaint thee, O mortal, acquaint thee with God;\n And he shall be with thee when fears are abroad;\n Thy safeguard in danger that threatens thy path;\n Thy joy in the valley and shadow of death.\n\n\n790 11s.\n Heb. 12:2.\n\n O eyes that are weary, and hearts that are sore,\n Look off unto Jesus; now sorrow no more:\n The light of his countenance shineth so bright,\n That here, as in heaven, there need be no night.\n\n 2 While looking to Jesus, my heart can not fear;\n I tremble no more when I see Jesus near;\n I know that his presence my safeguard will be,\n For, \"Why are you troubled?\" he saith unto me.\n\n 3 Still looking to Jesus, O, may I be found,\n When Jordan's dark waters encompass me round:\n They bear me away in his presence to be;\n I see him still nearer whom always I see.\n\n 4 Then, then shall I know the full beauty and grace\n Of Jesus, my Lord, when I stand face to face;\n Shall know how his love went before me each day,\n And wonder that ever my eyes turned away.\n\n\n791 10s.\n Complete in Christ.\n\n Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest;\n Far did I rove, and found no certain home;\n At last I sought them in his sheltering breast,\n Who opes his arms, and bids the weary come:\n With him I found a home, a rest divine;\n And I since then am his, and he is mine.\n\n 2 Yes! he is mine! and nought of earthly things,\n Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power,\n The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings,\n Could tempt me to forego his love an hour.\n Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine!\n Go! I my Saviour's am, and he is mine.\n\n 3 The good I have is from his stores supplied;\n The ill is only what he deems the best;\n He for my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside;\n And poor without him, though of all possest:\n Changes may come; I take, or I resign;\n Content, while I am his, while he is mine.\n\n\n792 11s.\n Precious promises.\n\n How firm a foundation, you saints of the Lord,\n Is laid for your faith in his excellent word!\n What more can he say than to you he has said,\n You who unto Jesus for refuge have fled?\n\n 2 In every condition, in sickness, in health,\n In poverty's vale, or abounding in wealth;\n At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea,\n As your days may demand, so your succor shall be.\n\n 3 Fear not--I am with you; O be not dismayed!\n I, I am your God, and will still give you aid;\n I'll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand,\n Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.\n\n 4 When through the deep waters I cause you to go,\n The rivers of sorrow shall not you o'erflow;\n For I will be with you, your troubles to bless,\n And sanctify to you your deepest distress.\n\n 5 When through fiery trials your pathway shall lie,\n My grace, all-sufficient, shall be your supply:\n The flame shall not hurt you: I only design\n Your dross to consume, and your gold to refine.\n\n 6 E'en down to old age all my people shall prove\n My sovereign, eternal, unchangeable love;\n And when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn,\n Like lambs they shall still in my bosom be borne.\n\n 7 The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose,\n I will not, I can not, desert to his foes;\n That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake,\n I'll never--no, never--no, never forsake!\n\n\n793 10s.\n Rejoicing in hope.\n Rom. 12:12.\n\n Joyfully, joyfully, onward I move,\n Bound to the land of bright spirits above;\n Angelic choristers, sing as I come--\n Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home!\n Soon, with my pilgrimage ended below,\n Home to the land of bright spirits I go;\n Pilgrim and stranger, no more shall I roam:\n Joyfully, joyfully, resting at home.\n\n 2 Friends fondly cherished, but passed on before;\n Waiting, they watch me approaching the shore;\n Singing to cheer me through death's chilling gloom:\n Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home.\n Sounds of sweet melody full on my ear;\n Harps of the blessed, your voices I hear!\n Rings with the harmony heaven's high dome--\n Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home.\n\n 3 Death, with thy weapons of war lay me low,\n Strike, king of terrors! I fear not the blow;\n Jesus hath broken the bars of the tomb!\n Joyfully, joyfully, will I go home.\n Bright will the morn of eternity dawn;\n Death shall be banished, his scepter be gone;\n Joyfully, then, shall I witness his doom,\n Joyfully, joyfully, safely at home.\n\n\n794 P. M.\n Behold the fowls of the air.\n Matt. 6:26.\n\n The child leans on its parent's breast,\n Leaves there its cares, and is at rest;\n The bird sits singing by his nest,\n And tells aloud\n His trust in God, and so is blest\n 'Neath every cloud.\n\n 2 He has no store, he sows no seed;\n Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed;\n By flowing stream or grassy mead,\n He sings to shame\n Men, who forget, in fear of need,\n A Father's name.\n\n 3 The heart that trusts for ever sings,\n And feels as light as it had wings;\n A well of peace within it springs:\n Come good or ill,\n Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings,\n It is his will!\n\n\n795 C. P. M.\n Matthew 14:28, 29.\n\n He bids us come; his voice we know,\n And boldly on the waters go,\n To him our Christ and Lord;\n We walk on life's tempestuous sea,\n For he who died to set us free\n Hath called us by his word.\n\n 2 Secure from troubled waves we tread,\n Nor all the storms around us heed,\n While to our Lord we look;\n O'er every fierce temptation bound--\n The billows yield a solid ground,\n The wave is firm as rock.\n\n 3 But if from him we turn our eye,\n And see the raging floods run high,\n And feel our fears within;\n Our foes so strong, our flesh so frail,\n Reason and unbelief prevail,\n And sink us into sin.\n\n 4 Lord, we our feeble faith confess;\n That little spark of faith increase,\n That we may doubt no more;\n But fix on thee our steady eye,\n And on thine outstretched arm rely,\n Till all the storm is o'er.\n\n\n796 P. M.\n Rest, weary heart.\n\n Rest, weary heart,\n From all thy silent griefs, and secret pain,\n Thy profitless regrets, and longings vain;\n Wisdom and love have ordered all the past,\n All shall be blessedness and light at last;\n Cast off the cares that have so long opprest;\n Rest, sweetly rest!\n\n 2 Rest, weary head!\n Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb;\n Light from above has broken through its gloom;\n Here, in the place where once thy Saviour lay,\n Where he shall wake thee on a future day,\n Like a tired child upon its mother's breast,\n Rest, sweetly rest!\n\n 3 Rest, spirit free!\n In the green pastures of the heavenly shore,\n Where sin and sorrow can approach no more;\n With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed,\n Beside the streams of life eternal led,\n For ever with thy God and Saviour blest,\n Rest, sweetly rest!\n\n\n797 P. M.\n The bright and morning star.\n Rev. 22:16.\n\n Star of morn and even,\n Sun of Heaven's heaven,\n Saviour high and dear,\n Toward us turn thine ear;\n Through whate'er may come,\n Thou canst lead us home.\n\n 2 Though the gloom be grievous,\n Those we leant on leave us,\n Though the coward heart\n Quit its proper part,\n Though the tempter come,\n Thou wilt lead us home.\n\n 3 Saviour pure and holy,\n Lover of the lowly,\n Sign us with thy sign,\n Take our hands in thine;\n Take our hands and come,\n Lead thy children home!\n\n 4 Star of morn and even,\n Shine on us from heaven;\n From thy glory-throne\n Hear thy very own!\n Lord and Saviour, come,\n Lead us to our home!\n\n\n798 P. M.\n I will not let thee go.\n\n I will not let thee go; thou help in time of need,\n Heap ill on ill,\n I trust thee still,\n E'en when it seems as thou wouldst slay indeed!\n Do as thou wilt with me,\n I yet will cling to thee,\n Hide thou thy face; yet, help in time of need,\n I will not let thee go!\n\n 2 I will not let thee go; should I forsake my bliss?\n No, Lord, thou'rt mine,\n And I am thine:\n Thee will I hold when all things else I miss;\n Though dark and sad the night,\n Joy cometh with thy light,\n O thou my Sun; should I forsake my bliss?\n I will not let thee go!\n\n 3 I will not let thee go, my God, my Life, my Lord!\n Not death can tear\n Me from his care,\n Who for my sake his soul in death outpoured.\n Thou diedst for love to me,\n I say in love to thee,\n E'en when my heart shall break, my God, my Life, my Lord,\n I will not let thee go!\n\n\n799 7s, peculiar.\n They shall never perish.\n John 10:28.\n\n Now as long as here I roam,\n On this earth have house and home,\n Shall the light of love from thee\n Shine through all my memory,\n To my God I yet will cling,\n All my life the praises sing\n That from thankful hearts outspring.\n\n 2 Every sorrow, every smart,\n That the Father's loving heart\n Hath appointed me of yore,\n Or hath yet for me in store,\n As my life flows on I'll take\n Calmly, gladly for his sake,\n No more faithless murmurs make.\n\n 3 I will meet distress and pain,\n I will greet e'en death's dark reign,\n I will lay me in the grave,\n With a heart still glad and brave,\n Whom the strongest doth defend,\n Whom the highest counts his friend,\n Can not perish in the end.\n\n\n800 P. M.\n The shining shore.\n\n My days are gliding swiftly by,\n And I a pilgrim stranger,\n Would not detain them as they fly--\n Those hours of toil and danger.\n CHORUS.\n For O! we stand on Jordan's strand,\n Our friends are passing over;\n And just before, the shining shore\n We may almost discover.\n\n 2 We'll gird our loins, my brethren dear,\n Our distant home discerning;\n Our absent Lord has left us word,\n Let every lamp be burning.\n\n 3 Should coming days be cold and dark,\n We need not cease our singing;\n That perfect rest nought can molest,\n Where golden harps are ringing.\n\n 4 Let sorrow's rudest tempest blow,\n Each cord on earth to sever;\n Our King says, \"Come,\" and there's our home,\n For ever, O! for ever.\n\n\n801 P. M.\n Still will we trust.\n\n Still will we trust, tho' earth seem dark and dreary,\n And the heart faint beneath his chastening rod;\n Though rough and steep our pathway, worn and weary,\n Still will we trust in God!\n\n 2 Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed,\n And our blind choosing brings us grief and pain;\n Through him alone who hath our way appointed,\n We find our peace again.\n\n 3 Choose for us, God! nor let our weak preferring\n Cheat our poor souls of good thou hast designed;\n Choose for us, God! thy wisdom is unerring,\n And we are fools and blind.\n\n 4 So from our sky, the night shall furl her shadows,\n And day pour gladness through his golden gates;\n Our rough path leads to flower-enameled meadows\n Where joy our coming waits.\n\n 5 Let us press on in patient self-denial,\n Accept the hardship, shrinking not from loss--\n Our guerdon lies beyond the hour of trial;\n Our crown, beyond the Cross.\n\n\n802 P. M.\n God doth not leave his own.\n\n God doth not leave his own!\n The night of weeping for a time may last;\n Then, tears all past,\n His going forth shall as the morning shine;\n The sunrise of his favors shall be thine--\n God doth not leave his own.\n\n 2 God doth not leave his own!\n Though \"few and evil\" all their days appear,\n Though grief and fear\n Come in the train of earth and hell's dark crowd,\n The trusting heart says, even in the cloud,\n God doth not leave his own.\n\n 3 God doth not leave his own!\n This sorrow in their life he doth permit,\n Yea, useth it\n To speed his children on their heavenward way.\n He guides the winds--Faith, Hope and Love all say\n God doth not leave his own.\n\n\n803 8s & 4s.\n Trust.\n\n I know not if or dark or bright\n Shall be my lot;\n If that wherein my hopes delight\n Be best, or not.\n\n 2 It may be mine to drag for years\n Toil's heavy chain;\n Or day and night my meat be tears\n On bed of pain.\n\n 3 Dear faces may surround my hearth\n With smiles and glee;\n Or I may dwell alone, and mirth\n Be strange to me.\n\n 4 My bark is wafted to the strand\n By breath divine;\n And on the helm there rests a hand\n Other than mine.\n\n 5 One who has known in storms to sail\n I have on board;\n Above the raving of the gale\n I hear my Lord.\n\n\n804 P. M.\n Nearer.\n\n We are too far from thee, our Saviour,\n Too far from thee,\n Before our eyes\n Dark mists arise,\n And vail the glories from the skies:\n We are too far from thee.\n\n 2 We are too far from thee, our Saviour,\n Too far from thee.\n Fierce pains oppress,\n Dark cares distress,\n Made darker by our loneliness:\n We are too far from thee.\n\n 3 We are too far from thee, our Saviour,\n Too far from thee,\n Dark waters roll\n Above the soul;\n Striving to reach the heavenly goal,\n We are too far from thee.\n\n 4 We are too far from thee, our Saviour,\n Too far from thee,\n Alone, afraid,\n Our path is laid\n In darkness; send thy heavenly aid;\n We are too far from thee.\n\n 5 We are too far from thee, our Saviour,\n Too far from thee,\n E'en if thy rod\n Bring us to God,\n In meekness be the pathway trod,\n If it but lead to God.\n\n 6 Draw us more close to thee, our Saviour,\n More close to thee,\n Let come what will\n Of good or ill,\n 'Tis one to us, well knowing still\n Thou drawest us to thee.\n\n\n805 P. M.\n I have given him for a leader.\n Isaiah 55:4.\n\n Jesus! guide our way\n To eternal day!\n So shall we, no more delaying,\n Follow thee, thy voice obeying;\n Lead us by the hand\n To our Father's land!\n\n 2 When we danger meet,\n Steadfast make our feet!\n Lord, preserve us uncomplaining\n 'Mid the darkness round us reigning!\n Through adversity\n Lies our way to thee.\n\n 3 Order all our way\n Through this mortal day;\n In our toil with aid be near us;\n In our need with succor cheer us;\n When life's course is o'er,\n Open thou the door!\n\n\n\n\n ASPIRATIONS.\n\n\n806 L. M.\n And dying is but going home.\n\n Now let our souls, on wings sublime,\n Rise from the vanities of time,\n Draw back the parting vail, and see\n The glories of eternity.\n\n 2 Born by new, celestial birth,\n Why should we grovel here on earth?\n Why grasp at vain and fleeting toys,\n So near to heaven's eternal joys?\n\n 3 Shall aught beguile us on the road,\n While we are walking back to God?\n For strangers into life we come,\n And dying is but going home.\n\n 4 Welcome, sweet hour of full discharge,\n That sets our longing souls at large,\n Unbinds our chains, breaks up our cell,\n And gives us with our God to dwell.\n\n 5 To dwell with God, to feel his love,\n Is the full heaven enjoyed above;\n And the sweet expectation now\n Is the young dawn of heaven below.\n\n\n807 L. M.\n That I may win Christ.\n Phil. 3:8.\n\n Jesus, my love, my chief delight,\n For thee I long, for thee I pray,\n Amid the shadows of the night,\n Amid the business of the day.\n\n 2 When shall I see thy smiling face,\n That face which I have often seen?\n Arise, thou Sun of Righteousness!\n Scatter the clouds that intervene.\n\n 3 Thou art the glorious gift of God,\n To sinners weary and distressed;\n The first of all his gifts bestowed,\n And certain pledge of all the rest.\n\n 4 Since I can say this gift is mine,\n I'll tread the world beneath my feet,\n No more at poverty repine,\n Nor envy the rich sinner's state.\n\n\n808 L. M.\n Col. 3:3, 4.\n\n What sinners value I resign,\n Lord! 'tis enough that thou art mine;\n I shall behold thy blissful face,\n And stand complete in righteousness.\n\n 2 This life's a dream, an empty show;\n But the bright world to which I go\n Has joys substantial and sincere:\n When shall I wake and find me there?\n\n 3 O glorious hour! O blest abode!\n I shall be near and like my God!\n And flesh and sin no more control\n The sacred pleasures of the soul.\n\n 4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground\n Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;\n Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,\n And in my Saviour's image rise.\n\n\n809 L. M.\n Search me, God, and know my heart.\n Psalm 139:23.\n\n O thou, to whose all-searching sight\n The darkness shineth as the light,\n Search, prove my heart, it pants for thee;\n O, burst these bonds, and set it free.\n\n 2 Wash out its stains, refine its dross;\n Nail my affections to the cross;\n Hallow each thought; let all within\n Be clean, as thou, my Lord, art clean.\n\n 3 If in this darksome wild I stray,\n Be thou my light, be thou my way;\n No foes, no violence I fear,\n No fraud, while thou, my God, art near.\n\n 4 When rising floods my soul o'erflow,\n When sinks my heart in waves of woe--\n Jesus, thy timely aid impart,\n And raise my head and cheer my heart.\n\n 5 Saviour, where'er thy steps I see,\n Dauntless, untired, I follow thee;\n O, let thy hand support me still,\n And lead me to thy holy hill.\n\n\n810 L. M.\n That they be with me where I am.\n John 17:24.\n\n Let me be with thee where thou art,\n My Saviour, my eternal Rest!\n Then only will this longing heart\n Be fully and for ever blest!\n\n 2 Let me be with thee where thou art,\n Where spotless saints thy name adore;\n Then only will this sinful heart\n Be evil and defiled no more!\n\n 3 Let me be with thee where thou art,\n Where none can die, where none remove;\n There neither death nor life will part\n Me from thy presence and thy love!\n\n\n811 C. M.\n A new heart.\n\n O for a heart to praise my God,\n A heart from sin set free,\n A heart that always feels the blood\n So freely shed for me.\n\n 2 A heart resigned, submissive, meek,\n My great Redeemer's throne,\n Where only Christ is heard to speak\n Where Jesus reigns alone.\n\n 3 O for a lowly, contrite heart,\n Confiding, true, and clean,\n Which neither life nor death can part\n From him that dwells within.\n\n 4 A heart in ev'ry thought renewed,\n And full of love divine,\n Perfect and right, and pure and good,\n A copy, Lord, of thine.\n\n 5 Thy Spirit, gracious Lord, impart;\n Direct me from above;\n May thy dear name be near my heart,\n That dear, best name is Love.\n\n\n812 C. M.\n Longing for Heaven.\n\n Sweet land of rest, for thee I sigh,\n When will the moment come,\n When I shall lay my armor by,\n And dwell in peace at home?\n\n Chorus.--O, this is not my home,\n O, this is not my home:\n This world's a wilderness of woe,\n This world is not my home.\n\n 2 No tranquil joy on earth I know,\n No peaceful, sheltering dome;\n This world's a wilderness of woe,\n This world is not my home.\n\n 3 When by affliction sharply tried,\n I view the gaping tomb,\n Although I dread death's chilling tide,\n Yet still I sigh for home.\n\n 4 Weary of wandering round and round\n This vale of sin and gloom,\n I long to quit the unhallowed ground,\n And dwell with Christ at home.\n\n\n813 C. M.\n The true riches.\n\n You glittering toys of earth, adieu,\n A nobler choice be mine;\n A real prize attracts my view--\n A treasure all divine.\n\n 2 Away, unworthy of my cares,\n You specious baits of sense;\n Inestimable worth appears,\n The pearl of price immense!\n\n 3 Jesus to multitudes unknown--\n O name divinely sweet!\n Jesus, in thee, in thee alone,\n Wealth, honor, pleasure meet.\n\n 4 Should both the Indies, at my call,\n Their boasted stores resign,\n With joy I would renounce them all,\n For leave to call thee mine.\n\n 5 Should earth's vain treasures all depart\n Of this dear gift possessed,\n I'd clasp it to my joyful heart,\n And be for ever blest.\n\n 6 Blest Sovereign of my soul's desires,\n Thy love is bliss divine;\n Accept the praise that love inspires,\n Since I can call thee mine!\n\n\n814 C. M.\n Where thou art is heaven.\n\n Jesus hath died that I might live,\n Might live to God alone;\n In him eternal life receive,\n And be in spirit one,\n\n 2 My soul breaks out in strong desire\n The perfect bliss to prove;\n My longing heart is all on fire\n To be dissolved in love.\n\n 3 Give me thyself. From every boast\n From every wish, set free,\n Let all I am in thee be lost;\n But give thyself to me.\n\n 4 Thy gifts, alas! can not suffice,\n Unless thyself be given;\n Thy presence makes my Paradise,\n And where thou art, is heaven!\n\n\n815 C. M.\n To them that look for him.\n Heb. 9:28.\n\n Awake, you saints, and raise your eyes,\n And raise your voices high;\n Awake, and praise that sovereign love\n That shows salvation nigh.\n\n 2 On all the wings of time it flies;\n Each moment brings it near;\n Then welcome each declining day,\n Welcome each closing year!\n\n 3 Not many years their round shall run,\n Not many mornings rise,\n Ere all its glories stand revealed\n To our admiring eyes.\n\n 4 You wheels of nature, speed your course,\n You mortal powers, decay;\n Fast as you bring the night of death,\n You bring eternal day.\n\n\n816 C. M.\n We are his workmanship.\n Eph. 2:10.\n\n I am thy workmanship, O Lord!\n And unto thee belong;\n Thou art my shield, my Great Reward,\n My Glory, and my song.\n\n 2 Surround me with thy guardian might,\n Uphold me with thy grace;\n Unharmed, conduct me through the fight;\n Unwearied, through the race.\n\n 3 Make me a weapon of thy power,\n An angel of thy will;\n To thee devoted, let each hour\n Its happy task fulfill.\n\n 4 Yet dare not I, a child of dust\n Thus plead my filial claim,\n But as in him is all my trust,\n Who bears a Saviour's name.\n\n\n817 C. M.\n So great a cloud of witnesses.\n Heb. 12:1.\n\n Give me the wings of faith, to rise\n Within the vail, and see\n The saints above, how great their joys\n How bright their glories be.\n\n 2 Once they were mourning here below,\n And bathed their couch with tears;\n They wrestled hard, as we do now,\n With sins, and doubts, and fears.\n\n 3 I ask them whence their victory came;\n They, with united breath,\n Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,\n Their triumph to his death.\n\n 4 They marked the footsteps that he trod;\n His zeal inspired their breast;\n And, following their incarnate God,\n Possessed the promised rest.\n\n 5 Our glorious Leader claims our praise,\n For his own pattern given;\n While the long cloud of witnesses\n Shows the same path to heaven.\n\n\n818 C. M.\n O that I had wings like a dove.\n Psalm 55:6.\n\n The dove, let loose in eastern skies,\n Returning fondly home,\n Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies\n Where idle warblers roam;--\n\n 2 But high she shoots through air and light\n Above all low delay,\n Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,\n Nor shadow dims her way.\n\n 3 So grant me, Lord, from every snare\n And stain of passion free,\n Aloft, through faith's serener air,\n To urge my course to thee;--\n\n 4 No sin to cloud, no lure to stay,\n My soul as home she springs;\n Thy sunshine on her joyful way\n Thy freedom on her wings.\n\n\n819 C. M. D.\n Heaven is my home.\n\n I have no resting-place on earth\n On which to fix my love;\n But O! my heart is yearning for\n The promised rest above.\n 'Tis true, this earth is passing fair,\n O'er which I sadly roam;\n But yet it hath no charms for me,\n For heaven is my home.\n\n 2 A pilgrim long I've wandered here;\n But, with a steadfast eye,\n I see a rest reserved for me,\n At God's right hand on high,\n Then all the joys of earth in vain\n Shall tempt my feet to roam,\n To seek a dwelling-place below,\n Since heaven is my home.\n\n 3 O, were this earth as fair as when\n Primeval Eden smiled,\n I would not by its glowing charms\n Be from my hope beguiled;\n But I would seek a brighter world,\n Where God has bid me come:\n Then seek no more to bind me here,\n For heaven is my home.\n\n\n820 C. M.\n The new Jerusalem.\n\n Jerusalem, my happy home,\n O how I long for thee!\n When will my sorrows have an end?\n Thy joys when shall I see?\n\n 2 Thy walls are all of precious stones,\n Most glorious to behold!\n Thy gates are richly set with pearl,\n Thy streets are paved with gold.\n\n 3 Thy gardens and thy pleasant greens\n My study long have been;\n Such sparkling gems by human sight\n Have never yet been seen.\n\n 4 If heaven be thus glorious, Lord,\n Why should I stay from thence?\n What folly 'tis that I should dread\n To die and go from hence!\n\n 5 Reach down, reach down thine arms of grace\n And cause me to ascend,\n Where congregations ne'er break up,\n And Sabbaths never end.\n\n 6 Jesus, my love, to glory's gone;\n Him will I go and see;\n And all my brethren here below\n Will soon come after me.\n\n\n821 C. M.\n A city which hath foundations.\n Heb. 11:10.\n\n Jerusalem! my glorious home,\n Name ever dear to me!\n When shall my labors have an end,\n In joy, and peace, and thee!\n\n 2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls\n And pearly gates behold?\n Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,\n And streets of shining gold?\n\n 3 There happier bowers than Eden's bloom,\n Nor sin nor sorrow know:\n Blessed seats! through rude and stormy scenes\n I onward press to you!\n\n 4 Why should I shrink at pain and woe?\n Or feel, at death, dismay?\n I've Canaan's goodly land in view,\n And realms of endless day.\n\n 5 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there,\n Around my Saviour stand;\n And soon my friends in Christ below\n Will join the glorious band.\n\n 6 Jerusalem! my glorious home!\n My soul still pants for thee;\n Then shall my labors have an end,\n When I thy joys shall see.\n\n\n822 S. M.\n A brighter day.\n\n Lord, we expect a day\n Still brighter far than this,\n When death shall bear our souls away,\n To realms of light and bliss.\n\n 2 There rapturous scenes of joy\n Shall burst upon our sight;\n And every pain, and tear, and sigh,\n Be drowned in endless night.\n\n 3 Beneath thy balmy wing,\n O Sun of Righteousness!\n Our happy souls shall sit and sing\n The wonders of thy grace.\n\n 4 Nor shall that radiant day,\n So joyfully begun,\n In evening shadows die away\n Beneath the setting sun.\n\n 5 How various and how new\n Are thy compassions, Lord!\n Eternity thy love shall show,\n And all thy truth record.\n\n\n823 7s, 6 lines.\n The soul panting for God.\n Psalm 42.\n\n As the hart, with eager looks,\n Panteth for the water-brooks,\n So my soul, athirst for thee,\n Pants the living God to see:\n When, O when, with filial fear,\n Lord, shall I to thee draw near?\n\n 2 Why art thou cast down, my soul?\n God, thy God, shall make thee whole:\n Why art thou disquieted?\n God shall lift thy fallen head,\n And his countenance benign\n Be the saving health of thine.\n\n\n824 7s.\n They that conquer shall wear the crown.\n\n Come, my Christian brethren, come,\n Let us onward to our home;\n Though we many trials meet,\n Jesus makes our trials sweet.\n CHORUS.\n We with Jesus soon shall be\n Happy in eternity:\n By our Father's side sit down:\n They that conquer shall wear the crown.\n\n 2 Brother Christian, doubt no more,\n Christ your Saviour's gone before;\n He himself has marked the way,\n Leading to eternal day.\n We with Jesus, etc.\n\n 3 Let us never be afraid,\n 'Tis on Christ our help is laid;\n He will all our foes o'ercome,\n He will take his exiles home.\n We with Jesus, etc.\n\n 4 Though the world revile and mock,\n We are built upon the Rock;\n And while thus we dwell secure,\n Christ will make our goings sure.\n We with Jesus, etc.\n\n\n825 8s & 7s.\n Prisoners of hope.\n Zech. 9:12.\n\n Let me go; my soul is weary\n Of the chain which binds me here;\n Let my spirit bend its pinion\n To a brighter, holier sphere.\n Earth, 'tis true hath friends that bless me\n With their fond and faithful love;\n But the hands of angels beckon\n Onward to the climes above.\n\n 2 Let me go; for earth hath sorrow,\n Sin, and pain, and bitter tears;\n All its paths are dark and dreary,\n All its hopes are fraught with fears;\n Short-lived are its brightest flowers,\n Soon its cherished joys decay:--\n Let me go; I fain would leave it\n For the realms of endless day.\n\n 3 Let me go; my heart hath tasted\n Of my Saviour's wondrous grace;\n Let me go, where I shall ever\n See and know him face to face.\n Let me go; the trees of heaven\n Rise before me, waving bright,\n And the distant, crystal waters\n Flash upon my failing sight.\n\n 4 Let me go; for songs seraphic\n Now seem calling from the sky--\n 'Tis the welcome of the angels,\n Which e'en now are hovering nigh:\n Let me go: they wait to bear me\n To the mansions of the blest;\n Where the spirit, worn and weary,\n Finds at last its long sought rest.\n\n\n826 8s.\n Longing for rest.\n Psalm 55:6, 7.\n\n O that I had wings like a dove,\n For, then, would I soon be at rest;\n I'd fly to the mansions above;\n The home of the pure and the blest;\n The place where no sorrow or tears\n Can ever my pleasures destroy;\n But where through eternity's years,\n I'll drink from an ocean of Joy!\n\n 2 The clouds that now hang o'er my soul,\n Make dark all the pathway of life;\n While thunders unceasingly roll\n In storms of deep anger and strife;\n I hope for some bright ray to beam\n From clouds where there yet may be light,\n But only the lightning's red gleam\n Is seen through the darkness of night.\n\n 3 I try to be humble and meek,\n Leave all to my Saviour's own will;\n For, He to the tempest can speak,\n The winds will obey and be still;\n But now my soul flutters and cries,\n And longs to be soaring away,\n From darkness and gloom, to the skies,\n The regions of bright, endless day.\n\n 4 Dear Saviour, O, let me come home,\n And rest on thy bosom in peace;\n No more from thy presence to roam--\n Then tempests and storms shall all cease.\n I'll sing of thy wonderful ways,\n With all of the glorified throng--\n For ever and ever, thy praise,\n Shall be the one theme of my song.\n\n\n827 8s.\n Having a desire to depart.\n Phil. 1:23.\n\n To Jesus, the crown of my hope,\n My soul is in haste to be gone;\n O bear me, ye cherubim, up,\n And waft me away to his throne.\n My Saviour, whom absent, I love;\n Whom, not having seen, I adore;\n Whose name is exalted above\n All glory, dominion, and power!\n\n 2 Dissolve thou those bands that detain\n My soul from her portion in thee,\n Ah! strike off this adamant chain,\n And make me eternally free.\n When that happy era begins,\n When arrayed in thy glories I shine,\n Nor grieve any more, by my sins,\n The bosom on which I recline;\n\n 3 O then shall the vail be removed!\n And round me thy brightness be poured;\n I shall meet him, whom absent I loved;\n I shall see, whom unseen I adored.\n And then, never more shall the fears,\n The trials, temptations, and woes,\n Which darken this valley of tears,\n Intrude on my blissful repose.\n\n\n828 S. M. D.\n A pilgrim's song.\n\n A few more years shall roll,\n A few more seasons come;\n And we shall be with those that rest,\n Asleep within the tomb.\n Then, O my Lord, prepare\n My soul for that great day;\n O wash me in thy precious blood,\n And take my sins away.\n\n 2 A few more suns shall set\n O'er these dark hills of time;\n And we shall be where suns are not,\n A far serener clime.\n Then, O my Lord, prepare\n My soul for that blest day;\n O wash me in thy precious blood,\n And take my sins away.\n\n 3 A few more storms shall beat\n On this wild rocky shore;\n And we shall be where tempests cease,\n And surges swell no more.\n Then, O my Lord, prepare\n My soul for that calm day,\n O wash me in thy precious blood,\n And take my sins away.\n\n 4 A few more struggles here,\n A few more partings o'er,\n A few more toils, a few more tears,\n And we shall weep no more.\n Then, O my Lord, prepare\n My soul for that blest day;\n O wash me in thy precious blood,\n And take my sins away.\n\n 5 A few more meetings here,\n Shall cheer us on our way;\n And we shall reach the endless rest,\n The eternal Sabbath day.\n Then, O my Lord, prepare\n My soul for that sweet day,\n O wash me in thy precious blood,\n And take my sins away.\n\n\n829 8s & 7s.\n Here and yonder.\n\n Here, we are but straying pilgrims,\n Here, our path is often dim,\n But to cheer us on our journey,\n Still we sing this way-side hymn.\n CHORUS.\n Yonder, over the rolling river,\n Where the shining mansions rise,\n Soon will be our home for ever,\n And the smile of the blessed Giver\n Gladdens all our longing eyes.\n\n 2 Here, our feet are often weary,\n On the hills that throng our way;\n Here, the tempest darkly gathers,\n But our hearts within us say--\n Yonder, over the rolling river, etc.\n\n 3 Here, our souls are often fearful,\n Of the pilgrim's lurking foe;\n But the Lord is our defender,\n And he tells us we may know,\n Yonder, over the rolling river, etc.\n\n 4 Here, our shadowed homes are transient,\n And we meet the stranger's frown;\n So we'll sing with joy while going.\n E'en to death's dark billow down--\n Yonder, over the rolling river, etc.\n\n\n830 7s & 6s.\n Song of our pilgrimage.\n\n O when shall I see Jesus,\n And dwell with him above,\n To drink the flowing fountain\n Of everlasting love?\n When shall I be delivered\n From this vain world of sin,\n And with my blessed Jesus\n Drink endless pleasures in?\n\n 2 But now I am a soldier,\n My Captain's gone before:\n He's given me my orders,\n And tells me not to fear.\n And if I hold out faithful,\n A crown of life he'll give,\n And all his valiant soldiers\n Eternal life shall have.\n\n 3 Through grace I am determined\n To conquer though I die;\n And then away to Jesus\n On wings of love I'll fly.\n Farewell to sin and sorrow,\n I bid them both adieu:\n And you, my friends, prove faithful,\n And on your way pursue.\n\n 4 And if you meet with troubles\n And trials on the way,\n Then cast your care on Jesus,\n And don't forget to pray.\n Gird on the heavenly armor\n Of faith, and hope, and love,\n And when your warfare's ended,\n You'll reign with him above.\n\n 5 O! do not be discouraged,\n For Jesus is your Friend,\n And if you long for knowledge,\n On him you may depend;\n Neither will he upbraid you,\n Though often you request;\n He'll give you grace to conquer,\n And take you home to rest.\n\n\n831 7s & 6s.\n How long, O Lord.\n\n How long, O Lord, our Saviour,\n Wilt thou remain away?\n Our hearts are growing weary\n Of thy so long delay;\n O when shall come the moment,\n When brighter far than morn,\n The sunshine of thy glory,\n Shall on thy people dawn.\n\n 2 How long, O gracious Master,\n Wilt thou thy household leave?\n So long hast thou now tarried,\n Few thy return believe.\n Immersed in sloth and folly,\n Thy servants, Lord, we see,\n And few of us stand ready\n With joy to welcome thee.\n\n 3 How long, O heavenly Bridegroom,\n How long wilt thou delay?\n And yet how few are grieving\n That thou dost absent stay:\n Thy very bride, her portion\n And calling hath forgot,\n And seeks for ease and glory\n Where thou, her Lord, art not.\n\n 4 O wake thy slumbering virgins,\n Send forth the solemn cry--\n Let all thy saints repeat it--\n The Bridegroom draweth nigh;\n May all our lamps be burning,\n Our loins well girded be,\n Each longing heart preparing\n With joy thy face to see.\n\n\n832 7s & 6s.\n Aspiration.\n\n Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings;\n Thy better portion trace;\n Rise, from transitory things,\n Toward heaven, thy native place.\n Sun, and moon, and stars decay;\n Time shall soon this earth remove;\n Rise, my soul, and haste away\n To seats prepared above!\n\n 2 Rivers to the ocean run,\n Nor stay in all their course;\n Fire ascending seeks the sun;\n Both speed them to their source:\n So a soul that's born of God\n Pants to view his glorious face,\n Upward tends to his abode,\n To rest in his embrace.\n\n 3 Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn;\n Press onward to the prize;\n Soon your Saviour will return\n Triumphant in the skies:\n Yet a season, and you know\n Happy entrance will be given,\n All your sorrows left below,\n And earth exchanged for heaven.\n\n\n833 6s.\n Arise and depart, for this is not your rest.\n Mich. 2:10.\n\n Go up, go up, my heart,\n Dwell with thy God above;\n For here thou canst not rest,\n Nor here give out thy love.\n\n 2 Go up, go up, my heart,\n Be not a trifler here;\n Ascend above these clouds,\n Dwell in a higher sphere.\n\n 3 Let not thy love flow out\n To things so soiled and dim;\n Go up to heaven and God,\n Take up thy love to him.\n\n 4 Waste not thy precious stores\n On creature-love below;\n To God that wealth belongs,\n On him that wealth bestow.\n\n 5 Go up, reluctant heart,\n Take up thy rest above;\n Arise, earth-clinging thoughts;\n Ascend, my lingering love!\n\n\n834 6s.\n My spirit longs for thee.\n\n My spirit longs for thee\n Within my troubled breast,\n Through I unworthy be\n Of so divine a Guest.\n\n 2 Of so divine a Guest\n Unworthy though I be,\n Yet has my heart no rest\n Unless it come from thee.\n\n 3 Unless it come from thee,\n In vain I look around;\n In all that I can see,\n No rest is to be found.\n\n 4 No rest is to be found,\n But in thy blessed love:\n O let my wish be crowned,\n And send it from above!\n\n\n835 6s & 5s.\n I have longed for thy salvation.\n Psalm 119:174.\n\n Purer yet and purer\n I would be in mind,\n Dearer yet and dearer\n Every duty find:\n\n 2 Hoping still, and trusting\n God without a fear\n Patiently believing\n He will make all clear:\n\n 3 Calmer yet and calmer\n Trial bear and pain,\n Surer yet and surer\n Peace at last to gain.\n\n 4 Suffering still and doing,\n To his will resigned,\n And to God subduing\n Heart, and will, and mind:\n\n 5 Higher yet and higher,\n Out of clouds and night,\n Nearer yet and nearer\n Rising to the light--\n\n 6 Oft these earnest longings\n Swell within my breast,\n Yet their inner meaning\n Ne'er can be expressed.\n\n\n836 11s.\n I would not live alway.\n Job. 7:16.\n\n I would not live alway: I ask not to stay\n Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;\n The few cloudy mornings that dawn on us here\n Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.\n\n 2 I would not live alway: no, welcome the tomb;\n Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom;\n There sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise\n To hail him in triumph descending the skies.\n\n 3 Who, who would live alway, away from his God,\n Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,\n Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,\n And the noontide of glory eternally reigns;\n\n 4 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,\n Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet,\n While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,\n And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul!\n\n\n837 11s.\n I am weary.\n\n I am weary of straying; O fain would I rest,\n In that far distant land of the pure and the blest;\n Where sin can no longer her blandishment spread,\n And tears and temptations for ever are fled.\n\n 2 I am weary of hoping, where hope is untrue,\n As fair but as fleeting, as morning's bright dew;\n I long for the land whose blest promise alone\n Is as changeless and sure as eternity's throne.\n\n 3 I am weary of sighing o'er sorrows of earth,\n O'er joy's glowing visions, that fade at their birth,\n O'er pangs of the loved, which we can not assuage,\n O'er the blightings of youth, and the weakness of age.\n\n 4 I am weary of loving what passes away--\n The sweetest and dearest, alas, may not stay!\n I long for that land where those partings are o'er,\n And death and the tomb can divide hearts no more.\n\n 5 I am weary, my Saviour, of grieving thy love;\n O! when shall I rest in thy presence above;\n I am weary--but O! let me never repine,\n While thy word, and thy love, and thy promise are mine.\n\n\n838 11s.\n Strangers and pilgrims.\n 1 Pet. 2:11.\n\n My rest is in heaven--my home is not here;\n Then why should I murmur when trials appear?\n Be hushed, my sad spirit, the worst that may come\n But shortens thy journey and hastens thee home.\n\n 2 A pilgrim and stranger, I seek not my bliss,\n Nor lay up my treasures in regions like this;\n I look for a city which hands have not piled;\n I pant for a country by sin undefiled.\n\n 3 Afflictions may try me, but can not destroy;\n One vision of home turns them all into joy;\n And the bitterest tear that flows from my eyes,\n But sweetens my hope of that home in the skies.\n\n 4 Though foes and temptations my progress oppose,\n They only make heaven more sweet at the close;\n Come joy or come sorrow--the worst may befall,\n One moment in heaven will make up for all.\n\n 5 The thorn and the thistle around me may grow,\n I would not repose upon roses below;\n I ask not my portion, I seek not my rest,\n Till, seated with Jesus, I lean on his breast.\n\n 6 A scrip for the way and a staff in my hand,\n I march on in haste through the enemy's land:\n The road may be rough, but it can not be long:\n So I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with song.\n\n\n839 11s & 10s.\n I shall be satisfied.\n Psalm 17:15.\n\n Not here! not here! not where the sparkling waters\n Fade into mocking sands as we draw near;\n Where in the wilderness each footstep falters--\n \"I shall be satisfied;\" but, O! not here!\n\n 2 Not here--where all the dreams of bliss deceive us,\n Where the worn spirit never gains its goal;\n Where, haunted ever by the thought that grieves us,\n Across us floods of bitter memory roll.\n\n 3 There is a land where every pulse is thrilling\n With rapture earth's sojourners may not know,\n Where heaven's repose the weary heart is stilling,\n And peacefully life's time-tossed currents flow.\n\n 4 Far out of sight, while yet the flesh enfolds us,\n Lies the fair country where our hearts abide,\n And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us\n Than these few words--\"I shall be satisfied.\"\n\n 5 Satisfied! satisfied! The spirit's yearning\n For sweet companionship with kindred minds--\n The silent love that here meets no returning--\n The inspiration which no language finds--\n\n 6 Shall they be satisfied? The soul's vague longing--\n The aching void which nothing earthly fills?\n O! what desires upon my soul are thronging\n As I look upward to the heavenly hills.\n\n 7 Thither my weak and weary steps are tending--\n Saviour and Lord! with thy frail child abide!\n Guide me toward home, where, all my wanderings ending,\n I shall see thee, and \"shall be satisfied.\"\n\n\n840 P. M.\n Lord, tarry not, but come.\n\n Beyond the smiling and the weeping,\n I shall be soon;\n Beyond the waking and the sleeping,\n Beyond the sowing and the reaping,\n I shall be soon.\n Love, rest, and home!\n Sweet home!\n Lord, tarry not, but come.\n\n 2 Beyond the blooming and the fading,\n I shall be soon;\n Beyond the shining and the shading,\n Beyond the hoping and the dreading\n I shall be soon.\n Love, rest, and home!\n Sweet home!\n Lord, tarry not, but come.\n\n 3 Beyond the rising and the setting,\n I shall be soon;\n Beyond the calming and the fretting,\n Beyond remembering and forgetting,\n I shall be soon.\n Love, rest, and home!\n Sweet home!\n Lord, tarry not, but come.\n\n 4 Beyond the parting and the meeting,\n I shall be soon;\n Beyond the farewell and the greeting,\n Beyond the pulse's fever beating,\n I shall be soon.\n Love, rest, and home!\n Sweet home!\n Lord, tarry not, but come.\n\n 5 Beyond the frost-chain and the fever,\n I shall be soon;\n Beyond the rock-waste and the river,\n Beyond the ever and the never\n I shall be soon.\n Love, rest, and home!\n Sweet home!\n Lord, tarry not, but come.\n\n\n841 10s & 11s.\n O tell me no more.\n\n O tell me no more of this world's vain store;\n The time for such trifles with me now is o'er;\n A country I've found where true joys abound,\n To dwell I'm determined on that happy ground.\n\n 2 The souls that believe, in glory shall live,\n And me in that number will Jesus receive;\n My soul, don't delay, he calls thee away,\n Rise, follow the Saviour, and bless the glad day.\n\n 3 No mortal doth know what he can bestow,\n What light, strength and comfort--go after him, go;\n Lo, onward I move to a city above,\n None guesses how wondrous my journey will prove.\n\n 4 Great spoils I shall win, from death, hell, and sin,\n 'Midst outward afflictions, I feel Christ within;\n And when I'm to die, receive me, I'll cry,\n For Jesus has loved me--I can not tell why.\n\n 5 But this I do find, we two are so joined,\n He'll not live in glory, and leave me behind,\n So this is the race I'm running, through grace,\n Henceforth, till admitted to see my Lord's face.\n\n 6 Now this is my care, that my neighbors may share\n These blessings: to seek them will none of you dare?\n In bondage, O why, and death, will you lie,\n When Jesus assures you free grace is so nigh?\n\n\n842 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us.\n\n Lead us, heavenly Father! lead us\n O'er the world's tempestuous sea;\n Guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us,\n For we have no help but thee.\n Yet possessing\n Every blessing,\n If our God our Father be.\n\n 2 Saviour! breathe forgiveness o'er us;\n All our weakness thou dost know;\n Thou didst tread this earth before us,\n Thou didst feel its keenest woe.\n Lone and dreary,\n Faint and weary\n Through the desert thou didst go.\n\n 3 Spirit of our God descending!\n Fill our hearts with heavenly joy;\n Love with every passion blending,\n Pleasure that can never cloy.\n Thus provided,\n Pardoned, guided,\n Nothing can our peace destroy.\n\n\n843 10s.\n Faint yet pursuing.\n\n My feet are worn and weary with the march\n O'er the rough road and up the steep hill-side;\n O city of our God! I fain would see\n Thy pastures green, where peaceful waters glide.\n\n 2 My hands are worn and weary, toiling on,\n Day after day, for perishable meat;\n O city of our God! I fain would rest--\n I sigh to gain thy glorious mercy-seat.\n\n 3 My garments, travel-worn and stained with dust,\n Oft rent by briers and thorns that crowd my way,\n Would fain be made, O Lord, my righteousness!\n Spotless and white in heaven's unclouded ray.\n\n 4 My eyes are weary looking at the sin,\n Impiety, and scorn upon the earth;\n O city of our God! within thy walls\n All--all are clothed again with thy new birth.\n\n 5 My heart is weary of its own deep sin--\n Sinning, repenting, sinning still again;\n When shall my soul thy glorious presence feel,\n And find, dear Saviour, it is free from stain?\n\n 6 Patience, poor soul! the Saviour's feet were worn;\n The Saviour's heart and hands were weary too;\n His garments stained, and travel-worn, and old;\n His vision blinded with a pitying dew.\n\n 7 Love thou the path of sorrow that he trod;\n Toil on, and wait in patience for thy rest:\n O city of our God! we soon shall see\n Thy glorious walls--home of the loved and blest.\n\n\n844 10s & 11s.\n The night is far spent, etc.\n Rom. 13:12.\n\n Soon and for ever the breaking of day\n Shall chase all the night-clouds of sorrow away;\n Soon and for ever we'll see as we're seen,\n And know the deep meaning of things that have been,\n Where fightings without and conflicts within\n Shall weary no more in the warfare with sin--\n Where tears, and where fears, and where death shall be never,\n Christians with Christ shall be soon and for ever.\n\n 2 Soon and for ever--such promise our trust--\n Though ashes to ashes, and dust be to dust,\n Soon and for ever our union shall be\n Made perfect, our glorious Redeemer, in thee:\n When the cares and the sorrows of time shall be o'er,\n Its pangs and its partings remembered no more;\n Where life can not fail and where death can not sever,\n Christians with Christ shall be soon and for ever.\n\n 3 Soon and for ever the work shall be done,\n The warfare accomplished, the victory won;\n Soon and for ever the soldier lay down\n The sword for a harp, the cross for a crown:\n Then droop not in sorrow, despond not in fear,\n A glorious to-morrow is brightening and near,\n When--blessed reward for each faithful endeavor--\n Christians with Christ shall be soon and for ever!\n\n\n\n\n TEMPTATIONS AND CONFLICTS.\n\n\n845 L. M.\n When I would do good, evil is present.\n Rom. 7:21.\n\n In thee, O Lord, I put my trust,\n Thou art my portion and my song;\n Thy ways, with me, are always just,\n But mine, with thee, are often wrong.\n\n 2 I can not do the things I would,\n For sin is in my flesh concealed;\n So evil takes the place of good,\n And all my weakness stands revealed.\n\n 3 But thou, O Lord, canst make me clean,\n And give me strength to do the right;\n While on thy promises I lean,\n All darkness changes into light.\n\n 4 O give me grace the wrong to shun,\n The right to follow all my days,\n And when life's victory is won,\n Then will I give thee all the praise.\n\n\n846 L. M.\n We are more than conquerors.\n Rom. 8:37.\n\n The Christian warrior, see him stand\n In the whole armor of his God;\n The Spirit's sword is in his hand,\n His feet are with the gospel shod.\n\n 2 In panoply of truth complete,\n Salvation's helmet on his head,\n With righteousness, a breastplate meet;\n And faith's broad shield before him spread.\n\n 3 With this, omnipotence he moves;\n From this the alien armies flee;\n Till more than conqueror he proves,\n Through Christ, who gives him victory.\n\n 4 Thus, strong in his Redeemer's strength,\n Sin, death, and hell he tramples down,\n Fights the good fight, and wins at length,\n Through mercy, an immortal crown.\n\n\n847 L. M.\n Put on the whole armor of God.\n Eph. 6:11.\n\n Awake, my soul! lift up thine eyes;\n See where thy foes against thee rise,\n In long array, a numerous host;\n Awake, my soul, or thou art lost.\n\n 2 See where rebellious passions rage,\n And fierce desires and lust engage;\n The meanest foe of all the train\n Has thousands and ten thousands slain.\n\n 3 Thou treadest upon enchanted ground;\n Perils and snares beset thee round;\n Beware of all; guard every part;\n But most, the traitor in thy heart.\n\n 4 Come, then, my soul! now learn to wield\n The weight of thine immortal shield;\n Put on the armor from above,\n Of heavenly truth, and heavenly love.\n\n\n848 L. M.\n Let us go forth without the camp.\n Heb. 13:13.\n\n Silent, like men in solemn haste,\n Girded wayfarers of the waste,\n We press along the narrow road\n That leads to life, to bliss, to God.\n\n 2 We fling aside the weight and sin,\n Resolved the victory to win;\n We know the peril, but our eyes\n Rest on the splendor of the prize.\n\n 3 No idling now, no wasteful sleep;\n We trim our lamps, our vigils keep;\n No shrinking from the desperate fight,\n No thought of yielding or of flight;\n\n 4 No love of present gain nor ease,\n No seeking man nor self to please.--\n With the brave heart and steady eye,\n We onward march to victory.\n\n 5 Night is far spent, and morn is near--\n Morn of the cloudless and the clear;\n 'Tis but a little and we come\n To our reward, our crown, our home.\n\n 6 Another year--it may be less--\n And we have crossed the wilderness,\n Finished the toil, the rest begun,\n The battle fought, the triumph won.\n\n\n849 L. M.\n A pillar of cloud by day, etc.\n Exodus 13:21.\n\n When Israel, of the Lord beloved,\n Out from the land of bondage came,\n Her father's God before her moved,\n An awful Guide, in smoke and flame.\n\n 2 By day, along th' astonished lands\n The cloudy pillar glided slow;\n By night Arabia's crimsoned sands\n Returned the fiery column's glow.\n\n 3 Thus present still, though now unseen,\n O Lord, when shines the prosperous day,\n Be thoughts of thee a cloudy screen,\n To temper the deceitful ray.\n\n 4 And O, when gathers on our path,\n In shade and storm, the frequent night,\n Be thou long-suffering, slow to wrath,\n A burning and a shining light.\n\n\n850 L. M.\n Fight the good fight of faith.\n Tim. 6:12.\n\n O Israel, to thy tents repair:\n Why thus secure on hostile ground?\n Thy King commands thee to beware\n For many foes thy camp surround.\n\n 2 The trumpet gives a martial strain:\n O Israel, gird thee for the fight!\n Arise, the combat to maintain,\n And put thine enemies to flight!\n\n 3 Thou shouldst not sleep, as others do;\n Awake; be vigilant; be brave!\n The coward, and the sluggard too,\n Must wear the fetters of the slave.\n\n 4 A nobler lot is cast for thee;\n A kingdom waits thee in the skies:\n With such a hope, shall Israel flee,\n Or yield, through weariness, the prize?\n\n 5 No! let a careless world repose\n And slumber on through life's short day,\n While Israel to the conflict goes,\n And bears the glorious prize away!\n\n\n851 L. M.\n Psalm 3d.\n\n The tempter to my soul hath said--\n \"There is no help in God for thee;\"\n Lord! lift thou up thy servant's head,\n My glory, shield, and solace be.\n\n 2 Thus to the Lord I raised my cry,\n He heard me from his holy hill;\n At his command the waves rolled by;\n He beckoned--and the winds were still.\n\n 3 I laid me down and slept--I woke--\n Thou, Lord! my spirit didst sustain;\n Bright from the east the morning broke--\n Thy comforts rose on me again.\n\n 4 I will not fear, though armed throngs\n 'Compass my steps in all their wrath;\n Salvation to the Lord belongs:\n His presence guards his people's path.\n\n\n852 L. M.\n The Lord is nigh to all that call on him.\n Psalm 145:18.\n\n When, in the hour of lonely woe,\n I give my sorrows leave to flow,\n And anxious fear and dark distrust\n Weigh down my spirit to the dust;\n\n 2 When not e'en friendship's gentle aid\n Can heal the wounds the world has made,\n O this shall check each rising sigh--\n My Saviour is for ever nigh.\n\n 3 His counsels and upholding care\n My safety and my comfort are:\n And he shall guide me all my days,\n Till glory crown the work of grace.\n\n\n853 L. M.\n I have considered the days of old.\n Psalm 77:5.\n\n Lord! I have foes without, within,\n The world, the flesh, indwelling sin,\n Life's daily ills, temptation's power,\n The tempted spirit's weaker hour.\n\n 2 Yet, in the gloom of silent thought,\n I call to mind what God hath wrought--\n Thy wonders in the days of old,\n Thy mercies great and manifold.\n\n 3 O, then to thee I stretch my hands,\n Like failing streams through desert sands;\n I thirst for thee, as harvest plains,\n Parched by the summer, thirst for rains!\n\n 4 Teach me thy will, subdue my own;\n Thou art my God, and thou alone;\n Release my soul from trouble, Lord!\n Quicken and keep me by thy word.\n\n\n854 L. M.\n Why art thou cast down.\n Psalm 42:5.\n\n When darkness long has vailed my mind,\n And smiling day once more appears;\n Then, my Creator! then I find\n The folly of my doubts and fears.\n\n 2 Straight I upbraid my wandering heart,\n And blush that I should ever be\n Thus prone to act so base a part,\n Or harbor one hard thought of thee.\n\n 3 O, let me then at length be taught\n What I am still so slow to learn--\n That God is love, and changes not,\n Nor knows the shadow of a turn.\n\n 4 Sweet truth, and easy to repeat!\n But, when my faith is sharply tried,\n I find myself a learner yet,\n Unskillful, weak, and apt to slide.\n\n 5 But, O my God! one look from thee\n Subdues the disobedient will,\n Drives doubt and discontent away;\n And thy rebellious child is still.\n\n\n855 L. M.\n We walk by faith.\n 2 Cor. 5:7.\n\n By faith in Christ I walk with God,\n With heaven, my journey's end, in view;\n Supported by his staff and rod,\n My road is safe and pleasant too.\n\n 2 I travel through a desert wide,\n Where many round me blindly stray;\n But he vouchsafes to be my Guide,\n And keeps me in the narrow way.\n\n 3 The wilderness affords no food,\n But God for my support prepares,\n Provides me every needful good,\n And frees my soul from wants and cares.\n\n 4 With him sweet converse I maintain;\n Great as he is, I dare be free;\n I tell him all my grief and pain,\n And he reveals his love to me.\n\n 5 I pity all that worldlings talk\n Of pleasures that will quickly end;\n Be this my choice, O Lord! to walk\n With thee, my Guide, my Guard, my Friend.\n\n\n856 L. M.\n I press toward the mark.\n Phil. 3:14.\n\n Awake, our souls; away, our fears;\n Let every trembling thought be gone;\n Awake, and run the heavenly race,\n And put a cheerful courage on.\n\n 2 True, 'tis a straight and thorny road,\n And mortal spirits tire and faint;\n But they forget the mighty God,\n Who feeds the strength of every saint;\n\n 3 The mighty God, whose matchless power\n Is ever new and ever young,\n And firm endures, while endless years\n Their everlasting circles run.\n\n 4 From thee, the overflowing spring,\n Our souls shall drink a full supply;\n While those who trust their native strength,\n Shall melt away, and droop, and die.\n\n 5 Swift as an eagle cuts the air,\n We'll mount aloft to thine abode;\n On wings of love our souls shall fly,\n Nor tire amid the heavenly road.\n\n\n857 L. M.\n Lord, save us; we perish.\n Matt. 8:25.\n\n The billows swell, the winds are high;\n Clouds overcast my wintry sky;\n Out of the depths to thee I call;\n My fears are great, my strength is small.\n\n 2 O Lord, the pilot's part perform,\n And guide and guard me through the storm;\n Defend me from each threatening ill:\n Control the waves; say, \"Peace! be still.\"\n\n 3 Amid the roaring of the sea,\n My soul still hangs her hope on thee;\n Thy constant love, thy faithful care,\n Is all that saves me from despair.\n\n 4 Though tempest-tossed and half a wreck,\n My Saviour through the floods I seek:\n Let neither winds nor stormy main\n Force back my shattered bark again.\n\n\n858 L. M.\n Where is the blessedness ye spake of.\n Gal. 4:15.\n\n O where is now that glowing love\n That marked our union with the Lord?\n Our hearts were fixed on things above.\n Nor could the world a joy afford.\n\n 2 Where is the zeal that led us then\n To make our Saviour's glory known;\n That freed us from the fear of men,\n And kept our eyes on him alone?\n\n 3 Where are the happy seasons spent\n In fellowship with him we loved?\n The sacred joy, the sweet content,\n The blessedness that then we proved?\n\n 4 Behold, again we turn to thee,\n O cast us not away, though vile!\n No peace we have, no joy we see,\n O Lord, our God, but in thy smile.\n\n\n859 L. M. 6 lines.\n Love--which passeth knowledge.\n Eph. 3:19.\n\n Thou hidden love of God, whose hight,\n Whose depth, unfathomed, no man knows,\n I see from far thy beauteous light:\n Inly I sigh for thy repose;\n My heart is pained; nor can it be\n At rest till it find rest in thee.\n\n 2 Thy secret voice invites me still\n The sweetness of thy yoke to prove;\n And fain I would; but though my will\n Seems fixed, yet wide my passions rove;\n Yet hindrances strew all the way;\n I aim at thee, yet from thee stray.\n\n 3 'Tis mercy all, that thou hast brought\n My mind to seek her peace in thee;\n Yet, while I seek, but find thee not,\n No peace my wandering soul shall see.\n O, when shall all my wanderings end,\n And all my steps to thee-ward tend?\n\n 4 Is there a thing beneath the sun\n That strives with thee my heart to share?\n Ah, tear it thence, and reign alone,\n The Lord of every motion there:\n Then shall my heart from earth be free,\n When it hath found repose in thee.\n\n\n860 C. M.\n So run that ye may obtain.\n 1 Cor. 9:24.\n\n Rise, O my soul! pursue the path\n By ancient heroes trod;\n Ambitious view those holy men\n Who lived and walked with God.\n\n 2 Though dead, they speak in reason's ear;\n And in example live;\n Their faith, and hope, and mighty deeds,\n Still fresh instruction give.\n\n 3 'Twas through the Lamb's most precious blood\n They conquered every foe:\n And to his power and matchless grace,\n Their crowns and honor owe.\n\n 4 Lord, may we ever keep in view\n The patterns thou hast given,\n And ne'er forsake the blessed road\n Which led them safe to heaven.\n\n\n861 C. M. D.\n O! it will be glorious.\n\n Christians, keep your armor bright,\n Rejoice, give thanks, and sing;\n In union strong together fight;\n Hosanna to our King!\n Come, laud and magnify his name,\n Nor let his praises cease;\n His ways are ways of pleasantness\n And all his paths are peace.\n CHORUS.\n O it will be glorious.\n With crowns and palms victorious,\n And Jesus reigning over us,\n When our sad warfare's o'er.\n\n 2 We will not act the coward's part,\n But onward all proceed:\n Our Captain shall his grace impart\n In every time of need.\n Great peace have they who love his cause,\n And on his word rely;\n From such as keep his holy laws,\n The enemy will fly.\n\n 3 The world and sin may grieve us sore,\n And rouse our weakest fears;\n Our march is but a few days more\n Through this dark vale of tears.\n Death may assail, and Satan too,\n With his opposing powers;\n But let us prove our valor true,\n The victory is ours.\n\n\n862 C. M.\n O Lord, remember me.\n\n O thou, from whom all goodness flows,\n I lift my soul to thee;\n In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes,\n O Lord, remember me.\n\n 2 If for thy sake, upon my name\n Reproach and shame shall be,\n I'll hail reproach and welcome shame;\n O Lord remember me!\n\n 3 When worn with pain, disease, and grief,\n This feeble body see;\n Grant patience, rest and kind relief;\n O Lord remember me!\n\n 4 When, in the solemn hour of death,\n I wait thy just decree,\n Be this the prayer of my last breath--\n O Lord, remember me!\n\n 5 And when before thy throne I stand,\n And lift my soul to thee,\n Then with the saints at thy right hand,\n O Lord, remember me!\n\n\n863 C. M.\n Endure hardness as a good soldier.\n 2 Tim. 2:3.\n\n Am I a soldier of the cross,\n A follower of the Lamb?\n And shall I fear to own his cause,\n Or blush to speak his name?\n\n 2 Must I be carried to the skies\n On flowery beds of ease,\n While others fought to win the prize,\n And sailed through bloody seas?\n\n 3 Are there no foes for me to face?\n Must I not stem the flood?\n Is this vile world a friend to grace,\n To help me on to God?\n\n 4 Sure I must fight, if I would reign;\n Increase my courage, Lord!\n I'll bear the toil, endure the pain,\n Supported by thy word.\n\n 5 Thy saints, in all this glorious war,\n Shall conquer, though they die;\n They see the triumph from afar,\n With Hope's exulting eye.\n\n 6 When that illustrious day shall rise,\n And all thine armies shine\n In robes of victory through the skies,\n The glory shall be thine.\n\n\n864 C. M.\n Overcoming.\n\n Kind Father, look with pity now\n On one by sin defiled;\n While at the mercy-seat I bow,\n O bless thy erring child.\n\n 2 My struggles, Lord, to do thy will,\n How poor and weak they are!\n But thou art gracious to me still,\n Then hear my humble prayer.\n\n 3 Let love upon my broken heart\n Pour out its healing balm;\n Bid all my trembling fears depart--\n My troubled spirit calm.\n\n 4 And now my hope new courage takes,\n My faith grows strong and sure;\n The cloud from off my vision breaks,\n Again my heart is pure.\n\n 5 My soul mounts up on wings of light\n And soars to climes above--\n The regions where all things are bright,\n The home of Peace and Love.\n\n 6 There, soon I'll sing of love divine,\n With all the ransomed throng,\n There, Jesus shall be ever mine,\n His love my endless song.\n\n\n865 C. M.\n With all boldness.\n Phil. 1:20.\n\n I'm not ashamed to own my Lord,\n Nor to defend his cause,\n Maintain the honors of his word,\n The glory of his cross.\n\n 2 Jesus, my Lord, I know his name,\n His name is all my trust;\n Nor will he put my soul to shame,\n Nor let my hope be lost.\n\n 3 Firm as his throne his promise stands,\n And he can well secure\n What I've committed to his hands\n Till the decisive hour.\n\n 4 Then will he own my worthless name\n Before his Father's face,\n And in the new Jerusalem\n Appoint for me a place.\n\n\n866 C. M.\n Run with patience.\n Heb. 12:1.\n\n Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve,\n And press with vigor on;\n A heavenly race demands your zeal,\n And an immortal crown.\n\n 2 'Tis God's all-animating voice\n That calls thee from on high:\n 'Tis his own hand presents the prize\n To thy aspiring eye.\n\n 3 A cloud of witnesses around\n Holds thee in full survey:\n Forget the steps already trod,\n And onward urge the way.\n\n 4 Blest Saviour, introduced by thee,\n Have we our race begun!\n And crowned with victory at thy feet\n We'll lay our honors down.\n\n\n867 C. M.\n Mighty through God.\n 2 Cor. 10:4.\n\n Nay, tell us not of dangers dire\n That lie in duty's path;\n A warrior of the cross can feel\n No fear of human wrath.\n\n 2 Where'er the prince of darkness holds\n His earthly reign abhorred,\n Sword of the Spirit, thee we draw,\n And battle for the Lord.\n\n 3 We go! we go, to break the chains\n That bind the erring mind,\n And give the freedom that we feel\n To all of human kind.\n\n 4 But, O, we wear no burnished steel,\n And seek no gory field;\n Our weapon is the word of God,\n His promise is our shield.\n\n 5 And still serene and fixed in faith,\n We fear no earthly harm;\n We know it is our Father's work,\n We rest upon his arm.\n\n\n868 C. M.\n Return to me, and I will return to you.\n Mal. 3:7.\n\n How oft, alas! this wretched heart\n Has wandered from the Lord!\n How oft my roving thoughts depart--\n Forgetful of his word!\n\n 2 Yet sovereign mercy calls--\"Return!\"\n Dear Lord! and may I come?\n My vile ingratitude I mourn;\n O! take the wanderer home.\n\n 3 And canst thou--wilt thou yet forgive,\n And bid my crimes remove!\n And shall a pardoned rebel live\n To speak thy wondrous love?\n\n 4 Almighty grace! thy healing power,\n How glorious--how divine!\n That can to life and bliss restore\n A heart so vile as mine!\n\n 5 Thy pardoning love--so free, so sweet,\n Dear Saviour, I adore;\n O! keep me at thy sacred feet,\n And let me rove no more.\n\n\n869 C. M. D.\n Help thou mine unbelief.\n Mark 9:24.\n\n Father, when o'er our trembling hearts\n Doubt's shadows gathering brood,\n When faith in thee almost departs,\n And gloomiest fears intrude,\n Forsake us not, O God of grace,\n But send those fears relief;\n Grant us again to see thy face;\n Lord, help our unbelief.\n\n 2 When sorrow comes, and joys are flown,\n And fondest hopes be dead,\n And blessings, long esteemed our own,\n Are now for ever fled--\n When the bright promise of our spring\n Is but a withering leaf--\n Lord, to thy truth still let us cling,\n Help thou our unbelief.\n\n 3 And when the powers of nature fail\n Upon the couch of pain,\n Nor love, nor friendship can avail\n The spirit to detain;\n Then, Father, be our closing eyes\n Undimmed by tears of grief,\n And if a trembling doubt arise,\n Help thou our unbelief.\n\n\n870 C. M.\n Watch and pray.\n Mark 13:33.\n\n The Saviour bids us watch and pray,\n Through life's brief, fleeting hour,\n And gives the Spirit's quickening ray\n To those who seek his power.\n\n 2 The Saviour bids us watch and pray,\n Maintain a warrior's strife;\n Help, Lord, to hear thy voice to-day;\n Obedience is our life.\n\n 3 The Saviour bids us watch and pray;\n For soon the hour will come\n That calls us from the earth away,\n To our eternal home.\n\n 4 O Saviour, we would watch and pray,\n And hear thy sacred voice,\n And walk, as thou hast marked the way,\n To heaven's eternal joys.\n\n\n871 C. M.\n When shall I come and appear before God.\n Psalm 42:2.\n\n As o'er the past my memory strays,\n Why heaves the secret sigh?\n 'Tis that I mourn departed days,\n Still unprepared to die.\n\n 2 The world and worldly things beloved,\n My anxious thoughts employed;\n And time, unhallowed, unimproved,\n Presents a fearful void.\n\n 3 Yet, Holy Father, wild despair\n Chase from my laboring breast;\n Thy grace it is which prompts the prayer,\n That grace can do the rest.\n\n 4 My life's brief remnant all be thine;\n And when thy sure decree\n Bids me this fleeting breath resign,\n O, speed my soul to thee.\n\n\n872 C. M.\n Let me not wander from thy commandments.\n Psalm 119:10.\n\n Alas, what hourly dangers rise!\n What snares beset my way!\n To heaven, O, let me lift mine eyes,\n And hourly watch and pray.\n\n 2 How oft my mournful thoughts complain,\n And melt in flowing tears!\n My weak resistance, ah, how vain!\n How strong my foes and fears!\n\n 3 O gracious God! in whom I live,\n My feeble efforts aid;\n Help me to watch, and pray, and strive,\n Though trembling and afraid.\n\n 4 Increase my faith, increase my hope,\n When foes and fears prevail;\n And bear my fainting spirit up,\n Or soon my strength will fail.\n\n 5 O, keep me in thy heavenly way,\n And bid the tempter flee!\n And let me never, never stray\n From happiness and thee.\n\n\n873 S. M.\n Ever with the Lord.\n 1 Thess. 4:17.\n\n \"For ever with the Lord,\"\n Amen, so let it be;\n Life from the dead is in that word,\n 'Tis immortality.\n\n 2 Here in the body pent,\n Absent from him I roam,\n Yet nightly pitch my moving tent\n A day's march nearer home.\n\n 3 My Father's house on high,\n Home of my soul, how near\n At times, to faith's aspiring eye,\n Thy golden gates appear!\n\n 4 Ah, then my spirit faints,\n To reach the land I love,\n The bright inheritance of saints,\n Jerusalem above.\n\n 5 Yet doubts still intervene,\n And all my comfort flies;\n Like Noah's dove, I flit between\n Rough seas and stormy skies.\n\n 6 Anon the clouds depart,\n The winds and waters cease;\n While sweetly o'er my gladdened heart\n Expands the bow of peace.\n\n\n874 C. M. peculiar.\n The fashion of this world, etc.\n 1 Cor. 7:31.\n\n This world is poor from shore to shore,\n And, like a baseless vision,\n Its lofty domes and brilliant ore,\n Its gems and crowns are vain and poor;\n There's nothing rich but heaven.\n\n 2 Empires decay, and nations die,\n Our hopes to winds, are given;\n The vernal blooms in ruin lie,\n Death reigns o'er all beneath the sky;\n There's nothing sure but heaven.\n\n 3 Creation's mighty fabric all\n Shall be to atoms riven--\n The skies consume, the planets fall,\n Convulsions rock this earthly ball;\n There's nothing firm but heaven.\n\n 4 A stranger, lonely here I roam,\n From place to place am driven;\n My friends are gone, and I'm in gloom,\n This earth is all a dismal tomb;\n I have no home but heaven.\n\n 5 The clouds disperse--the light appears,\n My sins are all forgiven;\n Triumphant grace has quelled my fears:\n Roll on, thou sun! fly swift, my years!\n I'm on my way to heaven.\n\n\n875 S. M.\n Watch!\n\n My soul, be on thy guard;\n Ten thousand foes arise;\n The hosts of sin are pressing hard\n To draw thee from the skies.\n\n 2 O, watch, and fight, and pray;\n The battle ne'er give o'er;\n Renew it boldly every day,\n And help divine implore.\n\n 3 Ne'er think the victory won,\n Nor lay thine armor down:\n Thy arduous work will not be done\n Till thou obtain thy crown.\n\n 4 Fight on, my soul, till death\n Shall bring thee to thy God;\n He'll take thee at thy parting breath,\n To his divine abode.\n\n\n876 S. M.\n Occupy till I come.\n Luke 19:13.\n\n A charge to keep I have,\n A God to glorify,\n A never-dying soul to save,\n And fit it for the sky.\n\n 2 To serve the present age,\n My calling to fulfill;\n O, may it all my powers engage\n To do my Master's will.\n\n 3 Arm me with jealous care\n As in thy sight to live;\n And O, thy servant, Lord, prepare\n A strict account to give.\n\n 4 Help me to watch and pray,\n And on thyself rely,\n Assured, if I my trust betray,\n I shall for ever die.\n\n\n877 S. M.\n To him that overcometh.\n Rev. 2:7.\n\n Arise, ye saints, arise!\n The Lord our Leader is;\n The foe before his banner flies,\n For victory is his.\n\n 2 Lead on, almighty Lord,\n Lead on, to victory!\n Encouraged by the bright reward:\n With joy we'll follow thee.\n\n 3 We'll follow thee, our Guide,\n Our Saviour and our King;\n We'll follow thee, through grace supplied\n From heaven's eternal spring.\n\n 4 We hope to see the day\n When all our toils shall cease;\n When we shall cast our arms away,\n And dwell in endless peace.\n\n 5 This hope supports us here,\n It makes our burdens light;\n 'Twill serve our drooping hearts to cheer,\n Till faith shall end in sight;\n\n 6 Till, of the prize possessed,\n We hear of war no more,\n And O, sweet thought! for ever rest\n On yonder peaceful shore!\n\n\n878 S. M.\n Go forth to glorious war.\n\n Hark, how the watchmen cry!\n Attend the trumpet's sound;\n Stand to your arms: the foe is nigh--\n The powers of hell surround.\n\n 2 Who bow to Christ's command,\n Your arms and hearts prepare;\n The day of battle is at hand--\n Go forth to glorious war.\n\n 3 See on the mountain top\n The standard of your God;\n In Jesus' name 'tis lifted up,\n All stained with hallowed blood.\n\n 4 His standard-bearers, now\n To all the nations call:\n To Jesus' cross, ye nations bow;\n He bore the cross for all.\n\n 5 Go up with Christ your Head;\n Your Captain's footsteps see;\n Follow your Captain, and be led\n To certain victory.\n\n 6 All power to him is given;\n He ever reigns the same;\n Salvation, happiness, and heaven,\n Are all in Jesus' name.\n\n\n879 S. M.\n Be strong in the Lord.\n Eph. 6:10.\n\n Soldiers of Christ, arise!\n And put your armor on,\n Strong in the strength which God supplies\n Through his beloved Son.\n\n 2 Strong in the Lord of Hosts,\n And in his mighty power;\n Who in the strength of Jesus trusts,\n Is more than conqueror.\n\n 3 Stand, then, in his great might,\n With all his strength endued;\n But take, to arm you for the fight,\n The panoply of God.\n\n 4 Leave no unguarded place,\n No weakness of the soul;\n Take every virtue, every grace,\n And fortify the whole.\n\n 5 That having all things done,\n And all your conflicts past,\n You may o'ercome through Christ alone,\n And stand entire at last.\n\n\n880 S. M.\n Therefore will not we fear.\n Psalm 46:2.\n\n Give to the winds thy fears,\n Hope, and be undismayed;\n God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears,\n God shall lift up thy head.\n\n 2 Through waves, through clouds and storms,\n He gently clears thy way;\n Wait thou his time; so shall this night\n Soon end in joyous day.\n\n 3 Still heavy is thy heart!\n Still sink thy spirits down!\n Cast off the weight, let fear depart,\n Bid every care be gone.\n\n 4 Far, far above thy thought\n His counsel shall appear,\n When fully he the work hath wrought,\n That caused thy needless fear.\n\n 5 What, though thou rulest not!\n Yet heaven, and earth, and hell\n Proclaim, God sitteth on the throne,\n And ruleth all things well!\n\n\n881 S. M.\n Reaching forth.\n Phil. 3:13.\n\n My soul, it is thy God\n Who calls thee by his grace;\n Now loose thee from each cumbering load,\n And bend thee to the race.\n\n 2 Make thy salvation sure;\n All sloth and slumber shun;\n Nor dare a moment rest secure,\n Till thou the goal hast won.\n\n 3 Thy crown of life hold fast;\n Thy heart with courage stay;\n Nor let one trembling glance be cast\n Along the backward way.\n\n 4 Thy path ascends the skies,\n With conquering footsteps bright;\n And thou shalt win and wear the prize\n In everlasting light.\n\n\n882 7s.\n If we confess our sins.\n 1 John 1:9.\n\n God of mercy! God of love!\n Hear our sad, repentant songs;\n Listen to thy suppliant ones,\n Thou, to whom all grace belongs!\n\n 2 Deep regret for follies past,\n Talents wasted, time misspent;\n Hearts debased by worldly cares,\n Thankless for the blessings lent;\n\n 3 Foolish fears and fond desires,\n Vain regrets for things as vain;\n Lips too seldom taught to praise,\n Oft to murmur and complain;\n\n 4 These, and every secret fault,\n Filled with grief and shame we own;\n Humbled at thy feet we bow,\n Seeking strength from thee alone.\n\n 5 God of mercy! God of love!\n Hear our sad repentant songs;\n O, restore thy suppliant ones,\n Thou to whom all grace belongs!\n\n\n883 7s.\n That they go forward.\n Ex. 14:15.\n\n Oft in sorrow, oft in woe,\n Onward, Christian, onward go;\n Fight the fight, maintain the strife,\n Strengthened with the bread of life.\n\n 2 Onward, Christian, onward go;\n Join the war, and face the foe;\n Will you flee in danger's hour?\n Know you not your Captain's power?\n\n 3 Let your drooping heart be glad;\n March, in heavenly armor clad;\n Fight, nor think the battle long;\n Soon shall victory tune your song.\n\n 4 Let not sorrow dim your eye;\n Soon shall every tear be dry:\n Let not fears your course impede;\n Great your strength, if great your need.\n\n 5 Onward, then, to battle move;\n More than conqueror you shall prove;\n Though opposed by many a foe,\n Christian soldier, onward go.\n\n\n884 7s.\n Let us not sleep, as do others.\n 1 Thess. 5:6.\n\n Sleep not, soldier of the cross!\n Foes are lurking all around;\n Look not here to find repose;\n This is but thy battle-ground;\n\n 2 Up! and take thy shield and sword;\n Up! it is the call of heaven:\n Shrink not faithless from the Lord:\n Nobly strive as he hath striven.\n\n 3 Break through all the force of ill;\n Tread the might of passion down--\n Struggling onward, onward still,\n To the conquering Saviour's crown!\n\n 4 Through the midst of toil and pain,\n Let this thought ne'er leave thy breast:\n Every triumph thou dost gain\n Makes more sweet thy coming rest.\n\n\n885 8s & 7s.\n Forgetting the things that are behind.\n Phil. 3:13.\n\n Onward, Christian, though the region\n Where thou art be drear and lone,\n God hath set a guardian legion\n Very near thee--press thou on!\n\n 2 Listen, Christian, their hosanna\n Rolleth o'er thee--\"God is love,\"\n Write upon thy red-cross banner,\n \"Upward ever--heaven's above.\"\n\n 3 By the thorn-road, and none other,\n Is the mount of vision won;\n Tread it without shrinking, brother!\n Jesus trod it--press thou on!\n\n 4 By thy trustful, calm endeavor,\n Guiding, cheering, like the sun,\n Earth-bound hearts thou shalt deliver;\n O, for their sake, press thou on!\n\n 5 Be this world the wiser, stronger,\n For thy life of pain and peace;\n While it needs thee, O no longer\n Pray thou for thy quick release:\n\n 6 Pray thou, Christian, daily, rather,\n That thou be a faithful son;\n By the prayer of Jesus--\"Father,\n Not my will, but thine, be done!\"\n\n\n886 8s & 7s.\n Here we have no continuing city.\n Heb. 13:14.\n\n Whither goest thou, pilgrim stranger,\n Passing through this darksome vale?\n Knowest thou not 'tis full of danger,\n And will not thy courage fail?\n CHORUS.\n I am bound for the kingdom,\n Will you go to glory with me?\n Hallelujah! praise you the Lord.\n\n 2 Pilgrim, thou dost justly call me,\n Wandering o'er this waste so wide;\n Yet no harm will e'er befall me,\n While I'm blest with such a guide.\n\n 3 Such a guide--no guide attends thee:\n Hence for thee my fears arise;\n If some guardian power befriend thee,\n 'Tis unseen by mortal eyes.\n\n 4 Yes, unseen--but still believe me,\n Such a guide my steps attends;\n He'll in every strait relieve me,\n He from every harm defends.\n\n 5 Pilgrim! see that stream before thee!\n Darkly winding through the vale;\n Should its deadly waves roll o'er thee,\n Would not then thy courage fail?\n\n 6 No, that stream has nothing frightful;\n To its bank my steps I bend;\n There to plunge will be delightful,\n Then my pilgrimage will end.\n\n\n887 8s & 7s.\n He leadeth me in the paths, etc.\n Psalm 23:3.\n\n Holy Father, thou hast taught me\n I should live to thee alone;\n Year by year, thy hand hath brought me\n On through dangers oft unknown;\n When I wandered, thou hast found me,\n When I doubted, sent me light;\n Still thine arm has been around me,\n All my paths were in thy sight.\n\n 2 In the world will foes assail me,\n Craftier, stronger far than I;\n And the strife may never fail me,\n Well I know, before I die.\n Therefore, Lord, I come, believing\n Thou canst give the power I need;\n Through the prayer of faith receiving\n Strength--the Spirit's strength, indeed.\n\n 3 I would trust in thy protecting,\n Wholly rest upon thine arm;\n Follow wholly thy directing,\n Thou, mine only guard from harm!\n Keep me from mine own undoing,\n Help me turn to thee when tried,\n Still my footsteps, Father, viewing,\n Keep me ever at thy side.\n\n\n888 8s & 7s.\n Beyond this vale of sorrow.\n\n Dark and thorny is the desert\n Through which pilgrims make their way;\n But beyond this vale of sorrow\n Lie the realms of endless day.\n Dear young soldiers, do not murmur\n At the troubles of the way;\n Meet the tempest--fight with courage--\n Never faint, but often pray.\n\n 2 He whose thunder shakes creation;\n He that bids the planets roll;\n He that rides upon the tempest,\n And whose scepter sways the whole--\n Jesus, Jesus, will defend you;\n Trust in him and him alone;\n He has shed his blood to save you,\n And will bring you to his throne.\n\n 3 There on flowery fields of pleasure,\n And the hills of endless rest,\n Joy, and peace, and love, shall ever,\n Reign and triumph in your breast.\n There ten thousand flaming seraphs\n Fly across the heavenly plain;\n There they sing immortal praises!\n Glory, glory is their theme.\n\n 4 But, methinks, a sweeter concert\n Makes the crystal arches ring,\n And a song is heard in Zion\n Which the angels can not sing:\n Who can paint those sons of glory,\n Ransomed souls that dwell on high,\n Who, with golden harps, for ever\n Sound redemption through the sky.\n\n 5 See the heavenly host in rapture\n Gazing on these shining bands;\n Wondering at their costly garments,\n And the laurels in their hands;\n There upon the golden pavement,\n See the ransomed march along!\n While the splendid courts of glory\n Sweetly echo with their song!\n\n 6 Here I see the under shepherds,\n And the flocks they fed below,\n Here with joy they dwell together,\n Jesus is their shepherd now.\n Hail! you happy, happy spirits!\n Welcome to the blissful plain--\n Glory, honor, and salvation;\n Reign, sweet Shepherd, ever reign.\n\n\n889 8s, 6s & 7s.\n Luke 11:27.\n\n Must Simon bear the cross alone,\n And all the world go free?\n No, there's a cross for every one,\n And there's a cross for me.\n Yes, there's a cross on Calvary,\n Through which by faith the crown I see;\n To me 'tis pardon bringing;\n O that's the cross for me!\n\n 2 How happy are the saints above,\n Who once went mourning here!\n But now they taste unmingled love,\n And joy without a tear.\n For perfect love will dry the tear,\n And cast out all tormenting fear,\n Which round my heart is clinging;\n O that's the love for me.\n\n 3 We'll bear the consecrated cross,\n Till from the cross we're free;\n And then go home to wear the crown,\n For there's a crown for me.\n Yes, there's a crown in heaven above,\n The purchase of my Saviour's love,\n For me at his appearing;\n O that's the crown for me!\n\n 4 The saints shall hear the midnight cry;\n The Lord will then appear,\n And virgins rise with burning lamps,\n To meet him in the air;\n For there's a home in heaven prepared,\n A house by saints and angels shared,\n Where Christ is interceding;\n O that's the home for me!\n\n\n890 8s, 7s & 4.\n Hope thou in God.\n Psalm 42:5\n\n O my soul! what means this sadness?\n Wherefore art thou thus cast down?\n Let thy griefs be turned to gladness;\n Bid thy restless fears begone;\n Look to Jesus,\n And rejoice in his dear name.\n\n 2 What though Satan's strong temptations\n Vex and grieve thee day by day\n And thy sinful inclinations\n Often fill thee with dismay;\n Thou shalt conquer,\n Through the Lamb's redeeming blood.\n\n 3 Though ten thousand ills beset thee,\n From without and from within,\n Jesus saith he'll ne'er forget thee,\n But will save from hell and sin.\n He is faithful\n To perform his gracious word.\n\n 4 Though distresses now attend thee,\n And thou treadest the thorny road;\n His right hand shall still defend thee;\n Soon he'll bring thee home to God,\n Therefore praise him,\n Praise the great Redeemer's name.\n\n 5 O that I could now adore him\n Like the heavenly host above,\n Who for ever bow before him,\n And unceasing sing his love,\n Happy songsters!\n When shall I your chorus join?\n\n\n891 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Under clouds.\n\n Here behold me, as I cast me\n At thy throne, O glorious King!\n Tears fast thronging, child-like longing,\n Son of man to thee I bring.\n Let me find thee--\n Me, a poor and worthless thing.\n\n 2 Look upon me, Lord, I pray thee;\n Let thy Spirit dwell in mine:\n Thou hast sought me, thou hast bought me,\n Only thee to know I pine:\n Let me find thee--\n Take my heart and grant me thine.\n\n 3 Nought I ask for, nought I strive for,\n But thy grace, so rich and free,\n That thou givest whom thou lovest,\n And who truly cleave to thee;\n Let me find thee--\n He hath all things who hath thee.\n\n 4 Earthly treasure, mirth and pleasure,\n Glorious name or richest hoard\n Are but weary, void, and dreary,\n To the heart that longs for God:\n Let me find thee--\n I am ready, mighty Lord.\n\n\n892 7s, 6s & 8s.\n You are not of the world.\n John 15:19.\n\n The sun above us gleaming\n Is not the sun for me;\n Though joyful be his beaming,\n And beautiful to see;\n There is a Sun of Righteousness\n Who cheers and saves me by his grace,\n All copious on me streaming,\n O that's the Sun for me.\n\n 2 The kings and lords of nations,\n Are not the kings for me;\n Too low their highest stations;\n Too mean their dignity:\n The King of kings and Lord of lords,\n Almighty in his ways and words,\n The word of his salvation,\n O that's the king for me.\n\n 3 This house of death and mourning\n Is not the house for me,\n Where all to dust are turning,\n In tears and agony;\n But there's a house not made with hands,\n It ever stood and ever stands,\n Beyond the world's last burning;\n O that's the house for me.\n\n 4 The wars the hero fights in,\n Are not the wars for me;\n The war my heart delights in,\n Shall end in victory;\n 'Tis not a war of flesh and blood;\n I fight for heaven, I fight for God,\n A kingdom with my rights in,--\n O that's the war for me.\n\n 5 This land of sin and sorrow,\n Is not the land for me,\n Where anguish oft I borrow\n From dying company;\n Th' immortal land is far away,\n I'll enter it on some bright day,\n That day may be to-morrow--\n O that's the land for me.\n\n\n893 11s.\n Whereas I was blind, now I see.\n John. 9:25.\n\n O Saviour whose mercy, severe in its kindness,\n Hath chastened my wanderings and guided my way,\n Adored be the power that hath pitied my blindness,\n And weaned me from phantoms that smiled to betray.\n\n 2 Enchanted with all that was dazzling and fair,\n I followed the rainbow--I caught at the toy;\n And still in displeasure thy goodness was there,\n Disappointing the hope, and defeating the joy.\n\n 3 The blossom blushed bright, but a worm was below;\n The moonlight shone fair, there was blight in the beam;\n Sweet whispered the breeze, but it whispered of woe;\n And bitterness flowed in the soft, flowing stream.\n\n 4 So, cured of my folly, yet cured but in part,\n I turned to the refuge thy pity displayed;\n And still did this eager and credulous heart\n Weave visions of promise, that bloomed but to fade.\n\n 5 I thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven\n Would be bright as the summer, and glad as the morn;\n Thou showedst me the path, it was dark and uneven;\n All rugged with rock, and all tangled with thorn.\n\n 6 I dreamed of celestial reward and renown,\n I grasped at the triumph that blesses the brave;\n I asked for the palm branch, the robe, and the crown,\n I asked, and thou showedst me the cross and a grave!\n\n 7 Subdued and instructed, at length to thy will,\n My hopes, and my wishes, my all I resign;\n O give me a heart that can wait and be still,\n Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but thine.\n\n 8 There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe,\n But they stand in a region by mortals untrod;\n There are rivers of joy--but they roll not below;\n There is rest--but it dwells in the presence of God.\n\n\n894 11s & 10s.\n He that shall endure unto the end.\n Matt. 24:13.\n\n The captive's oar may pause upon the galley,\n The soldier sleep beneath his plumed crest,\n And peace may fold her wing o'er hill and valley,\n But thou, O Christian! must not take thy rest.\n\n 2 Wilt thou find rest of soul in thy returning\n To that old path thou hast so vainly trod?\n Hast thou forgotten all thy weary yearning\n To walk among the children of thy God?\n\n 3 Canst thou forget thy Christian superscription--\n Behold we count them happy which endure?\n What treasure wouldst thou, in the land Egyptian,\n Repass the stormy waters to secure?\n\n 4 And God will come in his own time and power,\n To set his earnest-hearted children free;\n Watch only through this dark and painful hour,\n And the bright morning yet will break for thee!\n\n\n895 10s & 11s.\n Be thou faithful unto death.\n Rev. 2:10.\n\n Breast the wave, Christian, when it is strongest;\n Watch for day, Christian, when night is longest;\n Onward and upward still be thine endeavor;\n The rest that remaineth endureth for ever.\n\n 2 Fight the fight, Christian; Jesus is o'er thee;\n Run the race, Christian; heaven is before thee;\n He who hath promised, faltereth never;\n O, trust in the love that endureth for ever.\n\n 3 Lift the eye, Christian, just as it closeth;\n Raise the heart, Christian, ere it reposeth:\n Thee from the love of Christ, nothing shall sever;\n Mount, when the work is done--praise God for ever!\n\n\n896 8s & 6s.\n Some great thing!\n 2 Kings 5:13.\n\n Shall we grow weary in our watch,\n And murmur at the long delay,\n Impatient of our Father's time\n And his appointed way?\n\n 2 O, oft a deeper test of faith\n Than prison-cell, or martyr's stake,\n The self-renouncing watchfulness\n Of silent prayer may make.\n\n 3 We gird us bravely to rebuke\n Our erring brother in the wrong;\n And in the ear of pride and power\n Our warning voice is strong.\n\n 4 Easier to smite with Peter's sword,\n Than watch one hour in humbling prayer;\n Life's great things, like the Syrian lord,\n Our hearts can do and dare.\n\n 5 But, O, we shrink from Jordan's side,\n From waters which alone can save;\n And murmur for Abana's banks\n And Pharpar's brighter wave.\n\n 6 O thou, who in the garden's shade\n Didst wake thy weary ones again,\n Who slumbered at that fearful hour,\n Forgetful of thy pain--\n\n 7 Bend o'er us now, as over them,\n And set our sleep-bound spirits free,\n Nor leave us slumbering in the watch\n Our souls should keep with thee!\n\n\n897 6s & 5s.\n Psalm 91.\n\n God of our salvation!\n Unto thee we pray;\n Hear our supplication,\n Be our strength and stay.\n\n 2 Wretched and unworthy,\n Poor, and sick, and blind,\n Prostrate we adore thee,\n Call thy grace to mind.\n\n 3 He that dwelleth near thee,\n Safely shall abide;\n Ever love and fear thee,\n In thy strength confide.\n\n 4 Sure is thy protection,\n Safe is thy defense,\n While in deep affliction,\n Woe, or pestilence.\n\n 5 God of our salvation!\n Saviour, Prince of Peace,\n Boundless thy compassion,\n Infinite thy grace.\n\n 6 While with love unceasing,\n Humbly we adore;\n Grant us thy rich blessing,\n And we ask no more.\n\n\n\n\n SUBMISSION AND DELIVERANCE.\n\n\n898 L. M.\n Submissiveness.\n\n Be still, my heart! these anxious cares,\n To thee are burdens, thorns, and snares;\n They cast dishonor on thy Lord,\n And contradict his gracious word.\n\n 2 Brought safely by his hand thus far,\n Why wilt thou now give place to fear?\n How canst thou want if he provide,\n Or lose thy way with such a guide?\n\n 3 Did ever trouble yet befall,\n And he refuse to hear thy call?\n And has he not his promise passed,\n That thou shalt overcome at last?\n\n 4 He who has helped me hitherto\n Will help me all my journey through,\n And give me daily cause to raise\n New trophies to his endless praise.\n\n\n899 L. M.\n Whom have I in heaven but thee.\n Psalm 73:25.\n\n O Lord, thy counsels and thy care,\n My safety and my comfort are;\n And thou shalt guide me all my days,\n Till glory crown the work of grace.\n\n 2 In whom but thee, in heaven above,\n Can I repose my trust, my love?\n And shall an earthly object be\n Loved in comparison with thee?\n\n 3 My flesh is hastening to decay;\n Soon shall the world have passed away;\n And what can mortal friends avail,\n When heart, and strength, and life shall fail?\n\n 4 But O! my Saviour, be thou nigh,\n And I will triumph when I die;\n My strength, my portion, is divine;\n And Jesus is for ever mine!\n\n\n900 8s & 4s.\n Thy will be done.\n\n My God, my Father, while I stray\n Far from my home, on life's rough way,\n O, teach me from my heart to say,\n \"Thy will be done!\"\n\n 2 What though in lonely grief I sigh\n For friends beloved no longer nigh;\n Submissive still would I reply,\n \"Thy will be done!\"\n\n 3 If thou shouldst call me to resign\n What most I prize--it ne'er was mine;\n I only yield thee what was thine:\n \"Thy will be done!\"\n\n 4 If but my fainting heart be blest\n With thy sweet Spirit for its guest,\n My God, to thee I leave the rest:\n \"Thy will be done!\"\n\n\n901 L. M. 6 lines.\n My grace is sufficient for thee.\n 2 Cor. 12:9.\n\n To weary hearts, to mourning homes,\n God's meekest angel gently comes;\n No power hath he to banish pain,\n Or give us back our lost again;\n And yet, in tenderest love, our dear\n And heavenly Father sends him here.\n\n 2 Angel of patience! sent to calm\n Our feverish brows with cooling balm,\n To lay with hope the storms of fear,\n And reconcile life's smile and tear,\n The throbs of wounded pride to still,\n And make our own our Father's will!\n\n 3 O thou, who mournest on thy way,\n With longings for the close of day,\n He walks with thee, that angel kind,\n And gently whispers, \"Be resigned!\n Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell,\n The dear Lord ordereth all things well.\"\n\n\n902 L. M. 6 lines.\n Thy footsteps are not known.\n Psalm 77:19.\n\n O let my trembling soul be still,\n While darkness vails this mortal eye,\n And wait thy wise, thy holy will,\n Wrapped yet in fears and mystery;\n I can not, Lord, thy purpose see;\n Yet all is well, since ruled by thee.\n\n 2 So trusting in thy love, I tread\n The narrow path of duty on;\n What though some cherished joys are fled?\n What though some flattering dreams are gone?\n Yet purer, nobler joys remain,\n And peace is won through conquered pain.\n\n\n903 L. M. 6 lines.\n Deut. 33:25.\n\n When adverse winds and waves arise,\n And in my heart despondence sighs;\n When life her throng of cares reveals,\n And weakness o'er my spirit steals,\n Grateful I hear the kind decree,\n That \"as my day, my strength shall be.\"\n\n 2 When, with sad footsteps, memory roves\n 'Mid smitten joys and buried loves,\n When sleep my tearful pillow flies,\n And dewy morning drinks my sighs,\n Still to thy promise, Lord! I flee,\n That \"as my day, my strength shall be.\"\n\n 3 One trial more must yet be past:\n One pang--the keenest and the last;\n And when, with brow convulsed and pale,\n My feeble, quivering heart-strings fail,\n Redeemer! grant my soul to see,\n That \"as my day, my strength shall be.\"\n\n\n904 C. M.\n Not as I will.\n Mark 14:36.\n\n All as God wills! who wisely heeds\n To give or to withhold,\n And knoweth more of all my needs\n Than all my prayers have told.\n\n 2 Enough that blessings undeserved\n Have marked my erring track--\n That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved,\n His chastening turned me back--\n\n 3 That more and more a Providence,\n Of love is understood,\n Making the springs of time and sense\n Sweet with eternal good--\n\n 4 That death seems but a covered way\n Which opens into light,\n Wherein no blinded child can stray\n Beyond the Father's sight--\n\n 5 That care and trial seem at last,\n Through memory's sunset air,\n Like mountain ranges overpast,\n In purple distance fair--\n\n 6 That all the jarring notes of life,\n Seem blending in a psalm,\n And all the angles of its strife\n Slow rounding into calm.\n\n 7 And so the shadows fall apart\n And so the west winds play;\n And all the windows of my heart\n I open to the day.\n\n\n905 C. M.\n I waited patiently for the Lord.\n Psalm 40:1.\n\n We wait in faith, in prayer we wait,\n Until the happy hour\n When God shall ope the morning gate,\n By his almighty power.\n\n 2 We wait in faith, and turn our face\n To where the day-light springs;\n Till he shall come, earth's gloom to chase,\n With healing on his wings.\n\n 3 And even now, amid the gray,\n The east is brightening fast,\n And kindling to that perfect day\n Which never shall be past.\n\n 4 We wait in faith, we wait in prayer,\n Till that blest day shall shine,\n When earth shall fruits of Eden bear,\n And all, O God, be thine!\n\n 5 O guide us till our night is done!\n Until from shore to shore,\n Thou, Lord, our everlasting sun,\n Art shining evermore!\n\n\n906 C. M.\n The Lord gave and the Lord, etc.\n Job. 1:21.\n\n It is the Lord--enthroned in light,\n Whose claims are all divine,\n Who has an undisputed right\n To govern me and mine.\n\n 2 It is the Lord--who gives me all,\n My wealth, my friends my ease;\n And of his bounties may recall\n Whatever part he please.\n\n 3 It is the Lord--my covenant God--\n Thrice blessed be his name--\n Whose gracious promise, sealed with blood,\n Must ever be the same.\n\n 4 Can I, with hopes so firmly built,\n Be faithless, or repine?\n No: gracious God! take what thou wilt;\n To thee I all resign.\n\n\n907 C. M.\n Our souls are in the Saviour's hand.\n\n Our souls are in the Saviour's hand;\n And he will keep them still,\n And you and I shall surely stand\n With him on Zion's hill.\n\n 2 Him eye to eye we there shall see,\n Our face like his shall shine;\n O! what a glorious company,\n When saints and angels join!\n\n 3 O! what a joyful meeting there,\n In robes of white array!\n Palms in our hands we all shall bear,\n And crowns that ne'er decay!\n\n 4 When we've been there ten thousand years,\n Bright shining as the sun,\n We've no less days to sing God's praise,\n Than when we first begun!\n\n 5 Then let us hasten to the day\n When all shall be brought home:\n Come, O Redeemer! come away!\n O Jesus! quickly come!\n\n\n908 C. M.\n Thy will be done.\n\n Father, I know thy ways are just,\n Although to me unknown;\n O, grant me grace thy love to trust,\n And cry, \"Thy will be done.\"\n\n 2 If thou shouldst hedge with thorns my path,\n Should wealth and friends be gone,\n Still, with a firm and lively faith,\n I'll cry, \"Thy will be done.\"\n\n 3 Although thy steps I can not trace;\n Thy sovereign right I'll own;\n And, as instructed by thy grace,\n I'll cry, \"Thy will be done.\"\n\n\n909 C. M.\n Rev. 7:13-17.\n\n How bright these glorious spirits shine!\n Whence all their bright array?\n How came they to the blissful seats\n Of everlasting day?\n\n 2 Lo! these are they from sufferings great\n Who came to realms of light,\n And in the blood of Christ have washed\n Those robes which shine so bright.\n\n 3 Now with triumphant palms they stand\n Before the throne on high,\n And serve the God they love, amidst\n The glories of the sky.\n\n 4 His presence fills each heart with joy,\n Tunes every mouth to sing;\n By day, by night, the sacred courts\n With glad hosannas ring.\n\n 5 Hunger and thirst are felt no more,\n Nor sun with scorching ray;\n God is their sun, whose cheering beams\n Diffuse eternal day.\n\n 6 The Lamb that sits upon the throne,\n Shall o'er them still preside,\n Feed them with nourishment divine,\n And all their footsteps guide.\n\n 7 ' pastures green he'll lead his flock,\n Where living streams appear;\n And God the Lord from every eye\n Shall wipe off every tear.\n\n\n910 C. M.\n It is good that I have been afflicted.\n Psalm 119:71.\n\n In trouble and in grief, O God,\n Thy smile hath cheered my way;\n And joy hath budded from each thorn\n That round my footsteps lay.\n\n 2 The hours of pain have yielded good\n Which prosperous days refused;\n As herbs, though scentless when entire,\n Spread fragrance when they're bruised.\n\n 3 The oak strikes deeper as its boughs\n By furious blasts are driven;\n So life's tempestuous storms the more\n Have fixed my heart in heaven.\n\n 4 All-gracious Lord, whate'er my lot\n In other times may be,\n I'll welcome still the heaviest grief\n That brings me near to thee.\n\n\n911 C. M.\n I will bless the Lord at all times.\n Psalm 34:1.\n\n Through all the changing scenes of life,\n In trouble and in joy,\n The praises of my God shall still\n My heart and tongue employ.\n\n 2 Of his deliverance I will boast,\n Till all that are distressed,\n From my example, comfort take,\n And charm their griefs to rest.\n\n 3 O, magnify the Lord with me,\n With me exalt his name;\n When in distress to him I called,\n He to my rescue came.\n\n 4 The hosts of God encamp around\n The dwellings of the just;\n Deliverance he affords to all,\n Who on his succor trust.\n\n\n912 C. H. M.\n They looked to him and were lightened.\n Psalm 34:5.\n\n I look to thee in every need,\n And never look in vain;\n I feel thy strong and tender love,\n And all is well again:\n The thought of thee is mightier far\n Than sin and pain and sorrow are.\n\n 2 Discouraged in the work of life,\n Disheartened by its load,\n Shamed by its failures or its fears,\n I sink beside the road;\n But let me only think of thee,\n And then new heart springs up in me.\n\n 3 Thy calmness bends serene above,\n My restlessness to still;\n Around me flows thy quickening life,\n To nerve my faltering will;\n Thy presence fills my solitude;\n Thy providence turns all to good.\n\n 4 Embosomed in thy covenant love,\n Held in thy law, I stand;\n Thy hand in all things I behold,\n And all things in thy hand;\n Thou leadest me by unsought ways,\n And turnest my mourning into praise.\n\n\n913 S. M.\n Thy way, not mine, O Lord.\n\n Thy way, not mine, O Lord!\n However dark it be;\n O lead me by thine own right hand;\n Choose out the path for me.\n\n 2 Smooth let it be, or rough,\n It will be still the best;\n Winding or straight, it matters not,\n It leads me to thy rest.\n\n 3 I dare not choose my lot,\n I would not if I might;\n But choose thou for me, O my God!\n So shall I walk aright.\n\n 4 The kingdom that I seek\n Is thine; so let the way\n That leads to it, O Lord! be thine,\n Else I must surely stray.\n\n 5 My portion thou! my cup\n With joy or sorrow fill;\n As ever best to thee may seem,\n Choose thou my good and ill.\n\n 6 Choose thou for me my friends,\n My sickness or my health;\n Choose thou my joys and cares for me,\n My poverty or wealth.\n\n 7 Not mine, not mine the choice,\n In things or great or small;\n Be thou my Guide, my Guard, my Strength,\n My Wisdom, and my All.\n\n\n914 S. M.\n My times are in thy hand.\n Psalm 31:15.\n\n \"My times are in thy hand,\"\n My God, I'd have them there;\n My life, my friends, my soul I leave\n Entirely to thy care.\n\n 2 \"My times are in thy hand,\"\n Whatever they may be;\n Pleasing or painful, dark or bright,\n As best may seem to thee.\n\n 3 \"My times are in thy hand,\"\n Why should I doubt or fear?\n My Father's hand will never cause\n His child a needless tear.\n\n\n915 S. M. D.\n Spiritual wants.\n\n My God, my Strength, my Hope,\n On thee I cast my care,\n With humble confidence look up,\n And know thou hearest my prayer.\n Give me on thee to wait,\n Till I can all things do--\n On thee, almighty to create,\n Almighty to renew.\n\n 2 I want a Godly fear,\n A quick-discerning eye,\n That looks to thee when sin is near,\n And bids the tempter fly;\n A spirit still prepared,\n And armed with jealous care,\n For ever standing on its guard,\n And watching unto prayer.\n\n 3 I rest upon thy word;\n The promise is for me;\n My succor and salvation, Lord,\n Shall surely come from thee:\n But let me still abide,\n Nor from my hope remove,\n Till thou my patient spirit guide\n Into thy perfect love.\n\n\n916 S. M.\n Rom. 14:7, 9.\n\n Blest be thy love, dear Lord,\n That taught us this sweet way,\n Only to love thee for thyself,\n And for that love obey.\n\n 2 O thou, our souls' chief hope!\n We to thy mercy fly;\n Where'er we are, thou canst protect,\n Whate'er we need, supply.\n\n 3 Whether we sleep or wake,\n To thee we both resign;\n By night we see, as well as day,\n If thy light on us shine.\n\n 4 Whether we live or die,\n Both we submit to thee;\n In death we live, as well as life,\n If thine in death we be.\n\n\n917 S. M.\n Not far from home.\n\n Your harps, ye trembling saints!\n Down from the willows take;\n Loud to the praise of love divine,\n Bid every string awake.\n\n 2 Though in a foreign land,\n We are not far from home,\n And, nearer to our house above,\n We every moment come.\n\n 3 His grace will, to the end,\n Stronger and brighter shine;\n Nor present things, nor things to come,\n Shall quench this spark divine.\n\n 4 When we in darkness walk,\n Nor feel the heavenly flame\n Then will we trust our gracious God,\n And rest upon his name.\n\n 5 Blest is the man, O God!\n That stays himself on thee:\n Who waits for thy salvation, Lord!\n Shall thy salvation see.\n\n\n918 7s.\n Having all in having Christ.\n\n Jesus, take me for thine own;\n To thy will my spirit frame;\n Thou shalt reign, and thou alone,\n Over all I have and am.\n\n 2 Making thus the Lord my choice,\n I have nothing more to choose,\n But to listen to thy voice,\n And my will in thine to lose.\n\n 3 Then, whatever may betide,\n I shall safe and happy be;\n Still content and satisfied:--\n Having all in having thee.\n\n\n919 7s.\n All things work together for good.\n Psalm 31.\n\n Sovereign Ruler of the skies,\n Ever gracious, ever wise!\n All my times are in thy hand;\n All events at thy command.\n\n 2 Times of sickness, times of health,\n Times of penury and wealth--\n All must come, and last, and end,\n As shall please my heavenly Friend.\n\n 3 O thou gracious, wise and just!\n In thy hands my life I trust;\n Have I somewhat dearer still?--\n I resign it to thy will.\n\n 4 Thee at all times will I bless;\n Having thee, I all possess:\n Ne'er can I bereaved be,\n While I do not part with thee.\n\n\n920 S. M.\n As a weaned child.\n Psalm 131:2.\n\n Quiet, Lord, my froward heart,\n Make me teachable and mild,\n Upright, simple, free from art,\n Make me as a weaned child;\n From distrust and envy free,\n Pleased with all that pleases thee.\n\n 2 What thou shalt to-day provide,\n Let me as a child receive:\n What to-morrow may betide,\n Calmly to thy wisdom leave;\n 'Tis enough that thou wilt care--\n Why should I the burden bear?\n\n 3 As a little child relies\n On a care beyond his own;\n Knows he's neither strong nor wise,\n Fears to stir a step alone;\n Let me thus with thee abide,\n As my Father, Guard, and Guide.\n\n\n921 6s.\n As thou wilt.\n Matt. 26:39.\n\n My Jesus, as thou wilt!\n O may thy will be mine!\n Into thy hand of love\n I would my all resign.\n Through sorrow, or through joy,\n Conduct me as thine own,\n And help me still to say,\n My Lord, thy will be done!\n\n 2 My Jesus, as thou wilt!\n If needy here and poor,\n Give me thy people's bread,\n Their portion rich and sure.\n The manna of thy word\n Let my soul feed upon;\n And if all else should fail--\n My Lord, thy will be done!\n\n 3 My Jesus, as thou wilt:\n If among thorns I go,\n Still sometimes here and there,\n Let a few roses blow.\n But thou on earth, along\n The thorny pain hast gone;\n Then lead me after thee;\n My Lord, thy will be done!\n\n 4 My Jesus, as thou wilt!\n Though seen through many a tear,\n Let not my star of hope\n Grow dim or disappear.\n Since thou on earth hast wept\n And sorrowed oft alone,\n If I must weep with thee,\n My Lord, thy will be done!\n\n 5 My Jesus, as thou wilt!\n If loved ones must depart,\n Suffer not sorrow's flood\n To overwhelm my heart;\n For they are blest with thee,\n Thy race and conflict won;\n Let me but follow them;\n My Lord, thy will be done!\n\n 6 My Jesus, as thou wilt!\n When death itself draws nigh,\n To thy dear wounded side\n I would for refuge fly.\n Leaning on thee, to go\n Where thou before hast gone;\n The rest as thou shalt please,\n My Lord, thy will be done.\n\n 7 My Jesus, as thou wilt!\n All shall be well for me;\n Each changing future scene,\n I gladly trust with thee.\n Straight to my home above\n I travel calmly on,\n And sing, in life or death,\n My Lord, thy will be done!\n\n\n922 8s & 7s.\n I have led thee in right paths.\n Prov. 4:11.\n\n O how kindly hast thou led me,\n Heavenly Father, day by day!\n Found my dwelling, clothed and fed me,\n Furnished friends to cheer my way!\n Didst thou bless me, didst thou chasten,\n With thy smile, or with thy rod,\n 'Twas that still my step might hasten\n Homeward, heavenward, to my God.\n\n 2 O how slowly have I often\n Followed where thy hand would draw!\n How thy kindness failed to soften!\n How thy chastening failed to awe!\n Make me for thy rest more ready,\n As thy path is longer trod;\n Keep me in thy friendship steady,\n Till thou call me home, my God!\n\n\n923 8s & 7s.\n Jesus, I my cross have taken.\n\n Jesus, I my cross have taken,\n All to leave and follow thee;\n I am poor, despised, forsaken--\n Thou henceforth my all shalt be:\n Perish every fond ambition--\n All I've sought, or hoped, or known;\n Yet how rich is my condition--\n God and heaven are still my own!\n\n 2 Let the world despise and leave me,\n It has left my Saviour too;\n Human hearts and looks deceive me,\n Thou art not like them, untrue;\n Whilst thy graces shall adorn me,\n God of wisdom, love, and might--\n Foes may hate, and friends may scorn me,\n Show thy face, and all is bright.\n\n 3 Go then--earthly fame and treasure,\n Come, disaster, scorn, and pain;\n In thy service, pain is pleasure--\n With thy favor, loss is gain.\n I have called thee, Abba Father!\n I have set my heart on thee;\n Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,\n All will work for good to me.\n\n 4 Man may trouble and distress me,\n 'Twill but drive me to thy breast,\n Life with trials hard may press me,\n Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.\n O, 'tis not in grief to harm me\n While thy love is left to me;\n O, 'twere not in joy to charm me,\n Were that joy unmixed with thee.\n\n 5 Soul--then know thy full salvation,\n Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,\n Joy to find in every station,\n Something still to do or bear;\n Think what Spirit dwells within thee,\n Think what Father's smiles are thine;\n Think that Jesus died to save thee;\n Child of heaven, canst thou repine?\n\n 6 Haste thee on from grace to glory,\n Armed by faith, and winged by prayer,\n Heaven's eternal day's before thee,\n God's own hand shall guide thee there.\n Soon shall close thy earthly mission;\n Soon shall pass thy pilgrim's days;\n Hope shall change to glad fruition,\n Faith to sight, and prayer to praise!\n\n\n924 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Songs for sighing.\n\n Hallelujah! best and sweetest\n Of the hymns of praise above!\n Hallelujah! thou repeatest,\n Angel-host, these notes of love;\n This ye utter,\n While your golden harps ye move.\n\n 2 Hallelujah! Church victorious,\n Join the concert of the sky:\n Hallelujah! bright and glorious!\n Lift, ye saints, this strain on high!\n We, poor exiles,\n Join not yet your melody.\n\n 3 Hallelujah! strains of gladness\n Comfort not the faint and worn;\n Hallelujah! sounds of sadness\n Best become the heart forlorn;\n Our offenses\n We with bitter tears must mourn.\n\n 4 But our earnest supplication,\n Holy God! we raise to thee;\n Visit us with thy salvation,\n Make us all thy peace to see!\n Hallelujah!\n Ours at length this strain shall be.\n\n\n925 P. M.\n O God! be thou my stay.\n\n Father, O hear me now!\n Father divine!\n Thou, only thou, canst see\n The heart's deep agony:\n Help me to say to thee\n \"Thy will, not mine!\"\n\n 2 O God! be thou my stay\n In this dark hour;\n Kindly each sorrow hear,\n Hush every troubled fear,\n Thee let me still revere,\n Still own thy power.\n\n 3 In thee alone I trust,\n Thou Holy One!\n Humbly to thee I pray\n That through each troubled day\n Of life, I still may say,\n \"Thy will be done!\"\n\n\n926 6s.\n Changed from glory to glory.\n 2 Cor. 3:18.\n\n I did thee wrong, my God;\n I wronged thy truth and love;\n I fretted at the rod--\n Against thy power I strove.\n\n 2 Come nearer, nearer still;\n Let not thy light depart;\n Bend, break this stubborn will;\n Dissolve this iron heart!\n\n 3 Less wayward let me be,\n More pliable and mild;\n In glad simplicity\n More like a trustful child.\n\n 4 Less, less of self each day,\n And more, my God, of thee;\n O, keep me in the way,\n However rough it be.\n\n 5 Less of the flesh each day,\n Less of the world and sin;\n More of thy Son, I pray,\n More of thyself within.\n\n 6 More molded to thy will,\n Lord, let thy servant be;\n Higher and higher still,\n More, and still more, like thee!\n\n\n927 6s & 4s.\n Worthy the Lamb.\n\n Come, all ye saints of God,\n Wide through the earth abroad,\n Spread Jesus' fame:\n Tell what his love hath done;\n Trust in his name alone;\n Shout to his lofty throne,\n \"Worthy the Lamb!\"\n\n 2 Hence, gloomy doubts and fears!\n Dry up your mournful tears;\n Swell the glad theme:\n To Christ, our gracious King,\n Strike each melodious string;\n Join heart and voice to sing,\n \"Worthy the Lamb!\"\n\n 3 Hark! how the choirs above,\n Filled with the Saviour's love,\n Dwell on his name!\n There, too, may we be found,\n With light and glory crowned;\n While all the heavens resound,\n \"Worthy the Lamb!\"\n\n\n928 6s & 4s.\n Nearer to thee.\n\n Nearer, my God, to thee,\n Nearer to thee!\n E'en though it be a cross\n That raiseth me;\n Still all my song shall be,\n Nearer, my God, to thee,\n Nearer to thee!\n\n 2 Though like the wanderer,\n Daylight all gone,\n Darkness be over me,\n My rest a stone;\n Yet in my dreams I'd be\n Nearer, my God, to thee--\n Nearer to thee!\n\n 3 There let the way appear,\n Steps unto heaven;\n All that thou sendest me,\n In mercy given;\n Angels to beckon me\n Nearer, my God, to thee!\n Nearer to thee.\n\n 4 Then, with my waking thoughts\n Bright with thy praise,\n Out of my stony griefs,\n Bethel I'll raise;\n So by my woes to be\n Nearer my God, to thee--\n Nearer to thee!\n\n 5 Or, if on joyful wing,\n Cleaving the sky,\n Sun, moon, and stars forgot,\n Upward I fly;\n Still all my song shall be\n Nearer, my God, to thee,\n Nearer to thee.\n\n\n929 12s & 11s.\n My God and my all.\n\n While thou, O my God, art my help and defender,\n No cares can o'erwhelm me, no terrors appall:\n The wiles and the snares of this world will but render\n More lively my hope in my God and my all.\n\n 2 Yes; thou art my refuge in sorrow and danger;\n My strength when I suffer; my hope when I fall;\n My comfort and joy in this land of the stranger;\n My treasure, my glory, my God, and my all.\n\n 3 To thee, dearest Lord, will I turn without ceasing,\n Though grief may oppress me or sorrow befall;\n And love thee, till death, my blest spirit releasing,\n Secures to me Jesus, my God and my all.\n\n 4 And when thou demandest the life thou hast given,\n With joy will I answer thy merciful call;\n And quit thee on earth, but to find thee in heaven--\n My portion for ever, my God and my all.\n\n\n930 11s & 10s.\n A little while.\n John 14:19.\n\n O for the peace that floweth as a river,\n Making life's desert places bloom and smile;\n O for that faith to grasp the glad For ever,\n Amid the shadows of earth's Little While!\n\n 2 A little while for patient vigil keeping,\n To face the storm, to wrestle with the strong;\n A little while to sow the seed with weeping,\n Then bind the sheaves and sing the harvest-song.\n\n 3 A little while to wear the vail of sadness,\n To toil with weary step through miry ways,\n Then to pour forth the fragrant oil of gladness,\n And clasp the girdle round the robe of Praise!\n\n 4 A little while, 'mid shadow and illusion,\n To strive by faith love's mysteries to spell,\n Then read each dark enigma's bright solution,\n Then hail sight's verdict--He doth all things well.\n\n 5 And he who is himself the Gift and Giver,\n The future glory and the present smile,\n With the bright promise of the glad For ever,\n Will light the shadows of earth's Little While.\n\n\n931 11s & 10s.\n For yet a little while.\n Heb. 10:37.\n\n A little longer still--patience beloved;\n A little longer still, ere heaven unroll\n The glory, and the brightness, and the wonder,\n Eternal and divine, that waits thy soul.\n\n 2 A little longer ere life, true, immortal,\n (Not this our shadowy life) will be thine own,\n And thou shalt stand where winged archangels worship,\n And trembling bow before the great white throne.\n\n 3 A little longer still, and heaven awaits thee,\n And fills thy spirit with a great delight;\n Then our pale joys will seem a dream forgotten,\n Our sun a darkness, and our day a night.\n\n 4 A little longer, and thy heart, beloved,\n Shall beat for ever with a love divine;\n And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal,\n No mortal knows, and lives, shall then be thine.\n\n 5 A little longer yet, and angel voices\n Shall sing in heavenly chant upon thine ear;\n Angels and saints await thee, and God needs thee;\n Beloved, can we bid thee linger here!\n\n\n932 10s.\n Sufferings and glory.\n Rom. 8:18.\n\n Through cross to crown! and though thy spirit's life\n Trials untold assail with giant strength,\n Good cheer! good cheer! Soon ends the bitter strife,\n And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.\n\n 2 Through woe to joy! and though at morn thou weep,\n And though the midnight finds thee weeping still,\n Good cheer! good cheer! The shepherd loves his sheep;\n Resign thee to the watchful Father's will.\n\n 3 Through death to life! and through this vale of tears,\n And through this thistle-field of life, ascend\n To the great supper in that world whose years\n Of bliss unfading, cloudless, know no end.\n\n\n933 10s.\n After the toil.\n\n \"After the toil,\" when the morning breaks\n On the bloom-crowned hills of the heavenly land;\n \"After the toil,\" when each slumberer wakes,\n 'Neath the glorified touch of the Infinite Hand.\n\n 2 \"After the toil,\" when the dim earth sinks,\n Like a worn-out pebble in eternity's sea;\n \"After the toil,\" when each thirsty soul drinks\n Of the River that flows through Immensity.\n\n 3 \"After the toil,\" O shadowing cloud\n Of time o'er the face of the Infinite;\n When thou shalt be dropped like a worm-eaten shroud,\n What a morning will dawn on us after the night!\n\n 4 \"After the toil,\" and the cross that we bear\n Way-worn and weary through life's creeping years;\n Angels will smile on the crown we shall wear,\n And the songs of salvation will follow our tears.\n\n 5 \"After the toil,\" O! thou who art faint,\n Rise from the shadows that darken thy way--\n Rise while thy faith's raptured pencil shall paint\n All its glorified dream of the Infinite Day.\n\n\n934 9s & 8s.\n The day is at hand.\n Rom. 13:12.\n\n Christian, the morn breaks sweetly o'er thee,\n And all the midnight shadows flee;\n Tinged are the distant skies with glory,\n A beacon-light hung out for thee;\n Arise, arise! the light breaks o'er thee,\n Thy name is graven on the throne,\n Thy home is in the world of glory,\n Where thy Redeemer reigns alone.\n\n 2 Tossed on time's rude, relentless surges,\n Calmly, composed, and dauntless stand;\n For lo! beyond those scenes emerges\n The hights that bound the promised land.\n Behold! behold! the land is nearing,\n Where the wild sea-storm's rage is o'er;\n Hark! how the heavenly hosts are cheering;\n See in what throngs they range the shore!\n\n 3 Cheer up! cheer up! the day breaks o'er thee,\n Bright as the summer's noontide ray,\n The star-gemmed crowns and realms of glory\n Invite thy happy soul away;\n Away! away! leave all for glory,\n Thy name is graven on the throne;\n Thy home is in that world of glory,\n Where thy Redeemer reigns alone.\n\n\n935 P. M.\n Whatever my God ordains is right.\n\n Whate'er my God ordains is right,\n His will is ever just;\n Howe'er he orders now my cause,\n I will be still and trust.\n He is my God;\n Though dark my road,\n He holds me that I shall not fall;\n Wherefore to him I leave it all.\n\n 2 Whate'er my God ordains is right;\n He never will deceive;\n He leads me by the proper path,\n And so to him I cleave,\n And take content\n What he hath sent;\n His hand can turn my griefs away,\n And patiently I wait his day.\n\n 3 Whate'er my God ordains is right;\n Though I the cup must drink\n That bitter seems to my faint heart,\n I will not fear or shrink;\n Tears pass away\n With dawn of day;\n Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart,\n And pain and sorrow all depart.\n\n\n936 H. M.\n As Mount Zion, which can not be moved.\n Psalm 125:1.\n\n Their hearts shall not be moved\n Who in the Lord confide;\n But firm as Zion's hill,\n They ever shall abide;\n As mountains shield Jerusalem,\n The Lord shall be a Shield to them.\n\n 2 His blessing on them rests,\n Like freshening dew from heaven;\n And succor from his throne\n In all their need is given;\n Omnipotence shall guard them well,\n And peace remain on Israel.\n\n 3 One like the Son of God\n Is walking at their side,\n When by the fervid flame\n And fiery furnace tried;\n And 'tis enough that he is near,\n To strengthen them in every fear.\n\n\n937 P. M.\n Psalm 121.\n\n To heaven I lift mine eye,\n To heaven, Jehovah's throne,\n For there my Saviour sits on high,\n And thence shall strength and aid supply\n To all he calls his own.\n\n 2 He will not faint nor fail,\n Nor cause thy feet to stray;\n For him no weary hours assail,\n Nor evening darkness spreads her vail\n O'er his eternal day.\n\n 3 Beneath that light divine,\n Securely shalt thou move;\n The sun with milder beams shall shine,\n And eve's still queen her lamp incline\n Benignant from above.\n\n 4 For he, thy God and Friend,\n Shall keep thy soul from harm,\n In each sad scene of doubt attend,\n And guide thy life, and bless thine end,\n With his almighty arm.\n\n\n938 12s & 8s.\n Lord, to whom shall we go.\n John 6:68.\n\n When our purest delights are nipt in the blossom,\n When those we love best are laid low;\n When grief plants in secret her thorn in the bosom,\n Deserted--\"to whom shall we go?\"\n\n 2 When, with error bewildered, our path becomes dreary,\n And tears of despondency flow:\n When the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is weary,\n Despairing--\"to whom shall we go?\"\n\n 3 Where the sad, thirsty soul turns away from the springs\n Of pleasure this world can bestow,\n And sighs for another, and flatters its wings,\n Impatient--\"to whom shall we go?\"\n\n 4 O blest be that light which has parted the clouds,\n And a path to the pilgrim can show;\n That pierces the vail which the future enshrouds,\n And tells us to whom we shall go!\n\n\n\n\n RELAPSE AND RECOVERY.\n\n\n939 L. M.\n Blot out my transgressions.\n Psalm 51.\n\n O Thou that hearest when sinners cry,\n Though all my sins before thee lie,\n Behold me not with angry look,\n But blot their memory from thy book.\n\n 2 Create my nature pure within,\n And form my soul averse to sin;\n Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart,\n Nor hide thy presence from my heart.\n\n 3 I can not live without thy light,\n Cast out and banished from thy sight;\n Thy holy joys, my God, restore,\n And guard me that I fall no more.\n\n 4 Though I have grieved thy Spirit, Lord,\n His help and comfort still afford;\n And let a sinner seek thy throne,\n To plead the merits of the Son.\n\n\n940 L. M. 6 lines.\n The returning wanderer.\n\n Weary of wandering from my God,\n And now made willing to return,\n I hear, and bow beneath the rod;\n For thee, for thee alone, I mourn:\n I have an Advocate above,\n A Friend before the throne of love.\n\n 2 O Jesus, full of truth and grace!\n More full of grace than I of sin;\n Yet once again I seek thy face,\n Open thine arms and take me in;\n And freely my backslidings heal,\n And love the faithless sinner still.\n\n 3 Thou knowest the way to bring me back,\n My fallen spirit to restore;\n O, for thy truth and mercy's sake,\n Forgive, and bid me sin no more!\n The ruins of my soul repair,\n And make my heart a house of prayer.\n\n\n941 L. M.\n Deliverance.\n\n Before thy throne with tearful eyes,\n My gracious Lord, I humbly fall;\n To thee my weary spirit flies,\n For thy forgiving love I call.\n\n 2 How free thy mercy overflows,\n When sinners on thy grace rely!\n Thy tender love no limit knows;\n O, save me--justly doomed to die!\n\n 3 Yes! thou wilt save; my soul is free!\n The gloom of sin is fled away;\n My tongue breaks forth in praise to thee,\n And all my powers thy word obey.\n\n 4 Hence while I wrestle with my foes--\n The world, the flesh, the hosts of hell--\n Sustain thou me till conflicts close,\n Then endless songs my thanks shall tell.\n\n\n942 C. M.\n Turn thee unto me, etc.\n Psalm 25:16.\n\n O thou, whose tender mercy hears\n Contrition's humble sigh;\n Whose hand indulgent wipes the tears\n From sorrow's weeping eye;\n\n 2 See Lord, before thy throne of grace,\n A wretched wanderer mourn:\n Hast thou not bid me seek thy face?\n Hast thou not said--\"Return?\"\n\n 3 And shall my guilty fears prevail\n To drive me from thy feet?\n O, let not this dear refuge fail,\n This only safe retreat!\n\n 4 Absent from thee, my Guide! my Light!\n Without one cheering ray,\n Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night,\n How desolate my way.\n\n 5 O, shine on this benighted heart,\n With beams of mercy shine!\n And let thy healing voice impart\n A taste of joy divine.\n\n\n943 C. M.\n O for a closer walk with God!\n\n O for a closer walk with God!\n A calm and heavenly frame!\n A light to shine upon the road\n That leads me to the Lamb!\n\n 2 Where is the blessedness I knew\n When first I saw the Lord?\n Where is the soul-refreshing view\n Of Jesus and his word?\n\n 3 What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!\n How sweet their memory still!\n But they have left an aching void\n The world can never fill.\n\n 4 Return, O holy Dove, return,\n Sweet messenger of rest;\n I hate the sins that made thee mourn,\n And drove thee from my breast.\n\n 5 The dearest idol I have known,\n Whate'er that idol be,\n Help me to tear it from thy throne,\n And worship only thee.\n\n 6 So shall my walk be close with God,\n Calm and serene my frame;\n So purer light shall mark the road\n That leads me to the Lamb.\n\n\n944 C. M.\n O, that I were as in months past.\n Job. 29:2.\n\n Sweet was the time when first I felt\n The Saviour's pardoning blood\n Applied to cleanse my soul from guilt,\n And bring me home to God.\n\n 2 Soon as the morn the light revealed,\n His praises tuned my tongue;\n And, when the evening shade prevailed,\n His love was all my song.\n\n 3 In prayer, my soul drew near the Lord,\n And saw his glory shine;\n And when I read his holy word,\n I called each promise mine.\n\n 4 But now, when evening shade prevails,\n My soul in darkness mourns;\n And when the morn the light reveals,\n No light to me returns.\n\n 5 Rise, Saviour! help me to prevail,\n And make my soul thy care;\n I know thy mercy can not fail;\n Let me that mercy share.\n\n\n945 8s & 6s.\n Grieve not the Spirit.\n Eph. 4:30.\n\n O Saviour, lend a listening ear,\n And answer my request!\n Forgive, and wipe the falling tear,\n Now with thy love my spirit cheer,\n And set my heart at rest.\n\n 2 I mourn the hidings of thy face;\n The absence of that smile,\n Which led me to a throne of grace,\n And gave my soul a resting-place\n From earthly care and toil.\n\n 3 'Tis sin that separates from thee\n This poor benighted soul;\n My folly and my guilt I see,\n And now upon the bended knee,\n I yield to thy control.\n\n 4 Up to the place of thine abode\n I lift my waiting eye;\n To thee, O holy Lamb of God!\n Whose blood for me so freely flowed,\n I raise my ardent cry.\n\n\n946 7s, 6 lines.\n He hath borne our griefs.\n\n Weeping soul, no longer mourn,\n Jesus all thy griefs hath borne;\n View him bleeding on the tree,\n Pouring out his life for thee;\n There thy every sin he bore:\n Weeping soul, lament no more.\n\n 2 Cast thy guilty soul on him,\n Find him mighty to redeem;\n At his feet thy burden lay,\n Look thy doubts and fears away;\n Now by faith the Son embrace,\n Plead his promise, trust his grace.\n\n\n947 7s, 6 lines.\n Jesus, Saviour, pity me.\n\n Pity, Lord! this child of clay,\n Who can only weep and pray--\n Only on thy love depend:\n Thou who art the sinner's Friend;\n Thou the sinner's only plea--\n Jesus, Saviour, pity me!\n\n 2 From thy flock, a straying Lamb,\n Tender Shepherd, though I am;\n Now, upon the mountain cold,\n Lost, I long to gain the fold,\n And within thine arms to be:\n Jesus, Saviour, pity me!\n\n 3 O, where stillest streams are poured,\n In green pastures lead me, Lord!\n Bring me back, where angels sound\n Joy to the poor wanderer found:\n Evermore my Shepherd be:\n Jesus, Saviour, pity me!\n\n\n948 7s.\n The prodigal invited.\n\n Brother, hast thou wandered far\n From the Father's happy home,\n With thyself and God at war?\n Turn thee, brother--homeward come.\n\n 2 Hast thou wasted all the powers\n God for noble uses gave?\n Squandered life's most golden hours?\n Turn thee, brother--God can save.\n\n 3 He can heal thy bitterest wound,\n He thy gentlest prayer can hear;\n Seek him, for he may be found;\n Call upon him--he is near.\n\n\n949 8s & 7s.\n Father, take me.\n\n Take me, O my Father! take me--\n Take me, save me, through thy Son;\n That which thou wouldst have me, make me;\n Let thy will in me be done.\n\n 2 Long from thee my footsteps straying,\n Thorny proved the way I trod;\n Weary come I now, and praying--\n Take me to thy love my God!\n\n 3 Fruitless years with grief recalling,\n Humbly I confess my sin!\n At thy feet, O Father, falling,\n To thy household take me in.\n\n 4 Freely now to thee I proffer\n This relenting heart of mine;\n Freely, life and soul I offer,\n Gift unworthy love like thine.\n\n 5 Once the world's Redeemer, dying,\n Bore our sins upon the tree;\n On that sacrifice relying,\n Now I look in hope to thee.\n\n 6 Father, take me! all forgiving,\n Fold me to thy loving breast;\n In thy love for ever living,\n I must be for ever blest.\n\n\n950 10s.\n Returning.\n\n A weak and weary dove, with drooping wing,\n And tired of wandering o'er this watery waste,\n Jesus, my ark! once more a worthless thing,\n To thee I fly, thy pardoning love to taste.\n\n 2 For since I left thy sweet, secure retreat,\n In search of pleasures fair, though false and vain,\n My peace--my joy have flown; no rest my feet\n Have found; and now I turn to thee again!\n\n 3 I've sought for rest in friendship's hallowed shrine,\n But loved ones change, and earth's endearments end;\n No love is true and lasting, Lord, but thine;\n Henceforth, Incarnate Love, be thou my friend.\n\n 4 I've sought to find a place to rest my feet\n In fame's alluring temple, bright and gay;\n In health, and competence, and pleasures sweet,\n But short and transient as the passing day.\n\n 5 Yet all in vain: o'er all this dreary waste\n Of sin and sorrow, toil and care, and pain,\n No spot I've found, my weary feet to rest;\n And now, sweet ark, I fly to thee again.\n\n\n\n\n SYMPATHIES AND ACTIVITIES.\n\n\n951 L. M.\n Prayer for general peace.\n\n Thy footsteps, Lord, with joy we trace,\n And mark the conquests of thy grace;\n Complete the work thou hast begun,\n And let thy will on earth be done.\n\n 2 O, show thyself the Prince of Peace;\n Command the din of war to cease;\n O, bid contending nations rest,\n And let thy love rule every breast!\n\n 3 Then peace returns with balmy wing;\n Glad plenty laughs, the valleys sing;\n Reviving commerce lifts her head,\n And want, and woe, and hate, have fled.\n\n 4 Thou good and wise, and righteous Lord,\n All move subservient to thy word;\n O, soon let every nation prove\n The perfect joy of Christian love!\n\n\n952 L. M.\n I pray--that thou shouldst keep, etc.\n John 17:12.\n\n While others pray for grace to die\n O Lord, I pray for grace to live;\n For every hour a fresh supply;\n O see my need and freely give.\n\n 2 I do not dread the hour of death;\n If I am thine, no fears remain;\n I know that with my parting breath\n I yield for ever mortal pain.\n\n 3 E'en if the darkness should appear\n Too deep for faith as well as sight,\n If I am thine, thou wilt be near,\n And take me to thy heavenly light.\n\n 4 But O! my Lord, in life's highway\n I crave the sunshine of thy face;\n And every moment of the day\n I need thy strong supporting grace.\n\n 5 I dare not--will not--Lord, deny\n That heart and feet both go astray;\n Therefore the more to thee I cry\n To keep me in the chosen way.\n\n 6 The more my sin and unbelief\n Keep me from walking near to thee,\n The more, Lord Jesus, is my grief--\n The more I long thy face to see.\n\n\n953 C. M.\n I was a father to the poor.\n Job 29:16.\n\n Blest is the man whose softening heart\n Feels all another's pain;\n To whom the supplicating eye\n Was never raised in vain;\n\n 2 Whose breast expands with generous warmth\n A stranger's woes to feel;\n And bleeds in pity o'er the wound\n He wants the power to heal.\n\n 3 He spreads his kind supporting arms,\n To every child of grief;\n His secret bounty largely flows,\n And brings unasked relief.\n\n 4 To gentle offices of love,\n His feet are never slow;\n He views, through mercy's melting eye,\n A brother in a foe.\n\n 5 Peace from the bosom of his God,\n The Saviour's grace shall give;\n And when he kneels before the throne,\n His trembling soul shall live.\n\n\n954 C. M.\n I delivered the poor and the fatherless.\n Job 59:12.\n\n Bright Source of everlasting love,\n To thee our souls we raise;\n And to thy sovereign bounty rear\n A monument of praise.\n\n 2 Thy mercy gilds the path of life\n With every cheering ray,\n Kindly restrains the rising tear,\n Or wipes that tear away.\n\n 3 To tents of woe, to beds of pain,\n Our cheerful feet repair,\n And with the gifts thy hand bestows,\n Relieve the mourners there.\n\n 4 The widow's heart shall sing for joy;\n The orphan shall be fed;\n The hungering soul we'll gladly point\n To Christ, the living Bread.\n\n\n955 C. M.\n Ye have the poor always with you.\n Matt. 26:11.\n\n Lord, lead the way the Saviour went,\n By lane and cell obscure,\n And let our treasures still be spent\n Like his, upon the poor.\n\n 2 Like him, through scenes of deep distress,\n Who bore the world's sad weight,\n We, in their gloomy loneliness,\n Would seek the desolate.\n\n 3 For thou hast placed us side by side\n In this wide world of ill;\n And, that thy followers may be tried,\n The poor are with us still.\n\n 4 Small are the offerings we can make;\n Yet thou hast taught us, Lord,\n If given for the Saviour's sake,\n They lose not their reward.\n\n\n956 C. M.\n A new commandment.\n\n Beneath the shadow of the cross,\n As earthly hopes remove,\n His new commandment Jesus gives,\n His blessed word of love.\n\n 2 O, bond of union, strong and deep!\n O, bond of perfect peace!\n Not e'en the lifted cross can harm,\n If we but hold to this.\n\n 3 Then, Jesus, be thy Spirit ours!\n And swift our feet shall move\n To deeds of pure self-sacrifice,\n And the sweet tasks of love.\n\n\n957 C. M.\n Scorn not the slightest word or deed.\n\n Scorn not the slightest word or deed,\n Nor deem it void of power;\n There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed,\n That waits its natal hour.\n\n 2 A whispered word may touch the heart,\n And call it back to life;\n A look of love bid sin depart,\n And still unholy strife.\n\n 3 No act falls fruitless, none can tell\n How vast its power may be,\n Nor what results infolded dwell\n Within it silently.\n\n 4 Work on, despair not, bring thy mite,\n Nor care how small it be,\n God is with all that serve the right,\n The holy, true, and free.\n\n\n958 C. M.\n Make channels for the streams of love.\n\n Make channels for the streams of love,\n Where they may broadly run;\n And love has overflowing streams,\n To fill them every one.\n\n 2 But if at any time we cease\n Such channels to provide,\n The very founts of love for us\n Will soon be parched and dried.\n\n 3 For we must share, if we would keep,\n That blessing from above;\n Ceasing to give, we cease to have:\n Such is the law of love.\n\n\n959 C. H. M.\n Blessed are ye that sow, etc.\n Isaiah 32:20.\n\n O be not faithless! with the morn\n Cast thou abroad thy grain!\n At noontide faint not thou forlorn,\n At evening sow again!\n Blessed are they, whate'er betide,\n Who thus all waters sow beside.\n\n 2 Thou knowest not which seed shall grow,\n Or which may die, or live;\n In faith, and hope, and patience, sow!\n The increase God shall give\n According to his gracious will--\n As best his purpose may fulfill.\n\n 3 O, could our inward eye but view,\n Our hearts but feel aright,\n What faith, and love, and hope can do,\n By their celestial might,\n We should not say, till these be dead,\n The power that marvels wrought is fled.\n\n\n960 C. M.\n John 12:3.\n\n She loved her Saviour, and to him\n Her costliest present brought;\n To crown his head, or grace his name,\n No gift too rare she thought.\n\n 2 So let the Saviour be adored,\n And not the poor despised,\n Give to the hungry from your hoard,\n But all, give all to Christ.\n\n 3 Go, clothe the naked, lead the blind,\n Give to the weary rest;\n For sorrow's children comfort find,\n And help for all distressed;\n\n 4 But give to Christ alone thy heart,\n Thy faith, thy love supreme;\n Then for his sake thine alms impart,\n And so give all to him.\n\n\n961 C. M.\n 1 Peter 2:21-23.\n\n What grace, O Lord, and beauty shone\n Around thy steps below;\n What patient love was seen in all\n Thy life and death of woe!\n\n 2 For, ever on thy burdened heart\n A weight of sorrow hung;\n Yet no ungentle, murmuring word\n Escaped thy silent tongue.\n\n 3 Thy foes might hate, despise, revile,\n Thy friends unfaithful prove;\n Unwearied in forgiveness still,\n Thy heart could only love.\n\n 4 O give us hearts to love like thee!\n Like thee, O Lord, to grieve\n Far more for others' sins than all\n The wrongs that we receive.\n\n 5 One with thyself, may every eye,\n In us, thy brethren, see\n The gentleness and grace that spring\n From union, Lord! with thee.\n\n\n962 C. M.\n In thee the fatherless findeth mercy.\n Hos. 14:3.\n\n O gracious Lord, whose mercies rise\n Above our utmost need,\n Incline thine ear unto our cry,\n And hear the orphan plead.\n\n 2 Bereft of all a mother's love,\n And all a mother's care,\n Lord, whither shall we flee for help?\n To whom direct our prayer?\n\n 3 To thee we flee, to thee we pray;\n Thou shalt our Father be:\n More than the fondest parent's care\n We find, O Lord, in thee.\n\n 4 Already Thou hast heard our cry,\n And wiped away our tears:\n Thy mercy has a refuge found\n To guard our helpless years.\n\n 5 O, let thy love descend on those\n Who pity to us show;\n Nor let their children ever taste\n The orphan's cup of woe.\n\n\n963 C. M.\n A father of the fatherless.\n Psalm 68:5.\n\n Where shall the child of sorrow find\n A place for calm repose?\n Thou! Father of the fatherless,\n Pity the orphan's woes!\n\n 2 What friend have I in heaven or earth,\n What friend to trust but thee?\n My father's dead, my mother's dead,\n My God! \"remember me.\"\n\n 3 Thy gracious promise now fulfill,\n And bid my troubles cease;\n In thee the fatherless shall find\n Pure mercy, grace, and peace.\n\n 4 I've not a secret care or pain\n But he that secret knows;\n Thou, Father of the fatherless,\n Pity the orphan's woes.\n\n\n964 C. M.\n Bear ye one another's burdens.\n Gal. 6:2.\n\n Help us, O Lord, thy yoke to wear,\n Delighting in thy will;\n Each other's burdens learn to bear,\n The law of love fulfill.\n\n 2 He that hath pity on the poor,\n Doth lend unto the Lord:\n And, lo! his recompense is sure;\n For more shall be restored.\n\n 3 To thee our all devoted be,\n In whom we move, and live;\n Freely we have received from thee;\n And freely may we give.\n\n 4 And while we thus obey thy word,\n And every want relieve,\n O may we find it, gracious Lord!\n More blest than to receive.\n\n\n965 S. M.\n Not hurt in all my holy mountain.\n Isaiah 11:9.\n\n Hush the loud cannon's roar,\n The frantic warrior's call,\n Why should the earth be drenched with gore?\n Are we not brothers all?\n\n 2 Want, from the wretch depart;\n Chains, from the captive fall;\n Sweet mercy, melt the oppressor's heart:\n Sufferers are brothers all.\n\n 3 Churches and sects, strike down\n Each mean partition wall;\n Let love each harsher feeling drown:\n Christians are brothers all.\n\n 4 Let love and truth alone\n Hold human hearts in thrall,\n That heaven its work at length may own,\n And men be brothers all.\n\n\n966 S. M.\n Establish thou the work of our hands.\n Psalm 90:17.\n\n O praise our God to-day,\n His constant mercy bless,\n Whose love hath helped us on our way,\n And granted us success.\n\n 2 O happiest work below,\n Earnest of joy above,\n To sweeten many a cup of woe,\n By deeds of holy love!\n\n 3 Lord! may it be our choice\n This blessed rule to keep:\n Rejoice with them that do rejoice,\n And weep with them that weep.\n\n\n967 S. M.\n In the morning sow thy seed.\n Eccl. 11:6.\n\n Sow in the morn thy seed;\n At eve hold not thy hand;\n To doubt and fear, give thou no heed;\n Broadcast it o'er the land.\n\n 2 Thou knowest not which shall thrive--\n The late or early sown;\n Grace keeps the precious germ alive,\n When and wherever strown;\n\n 3 The good, the fruitful ground\n Expect not here nor there;\n On hillside and in dale 'tis found;\n Go forth, then, everywhere!\n\n 4 And duly shall appear,\n In verdure, beauty, strength,\n The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,\n And the full corn at length.\n\n 5 Thou canst not toil in vain;\n Cold, heat, the moist and dry,\n Shall foster and mature the grain\n For garners in the sky.\n\n 6 Thence, when the glorious end--\n The day of God--is come,\n The angel-reapers shall descend,\n And heaven cry, Harvest-home.\n\n\n968 P. M.\n The orphan's prayer.\n\n What though earthly friends may frown,\n Why should I dejected be?\n Father, let thy will be known,\n Let me find my all in thee.\n Never let my soul despair,\n God will hear the orphan's prayer;\n God will hear,\n God will hear the orphan's prayer.\n\n 2 Sorrow's child I long have been,\n Often for unkindness mourned;\n Friendless orphan, poor and mean,\n By the proud and wealthy scorned.\n Still to God will I repair,\n God will hear the orphan's prayer;\n God will hear,\n God will hear the orphan's prayer.\n\n 3 Earthly comforts fade and die,\n Sorrows oft our joys attend;\n But if we on God rely,\n He will prove a constant friend.\n On him I'll cast every care,\n He regards the orphan's prayer;\n He regards,\n He regards the orphan's prayer.\n\n\n969 8s & 7s.\n Psalm 126:6.\n\n He that goeth forth with weeping,\n Bearing precious seed in love,\n Never tiring, never sleeping,\n Findeth mercy from above.\n\n 2 Soft descend the dews of heaven;\n Bright the rays celestial shine;\n Precious fruits will thus be given,\n Through the influence all divine.\n\n 3 Sow thy seed; be never weary;\n Let no fears thy soul annoy;\n Be the prospect ne'er so dreary,\n Thou shalt reap the fruits of joy.\n\n 4 Lo! the scene of verdure brightening,\n In the rising grain appear;\n Look again; the fields are whitening,\n For the harvest time is near.\n\n\n970 8s & 7s.\n Life's work.\n\n All around us, fair with flowers,\n Fields of beauty sleeping lie;\n All around us clarion voices\n Call to duty stern and high.\n\n 2 Following every voice of mercy\n With a trusting, loving heart;\n Let us in life's earnest labor\n Still be sure to do our part.\n\n 3 Now, to-day, and not to-morrow,\n Let us work with all our might,\n Lest the wretched faint and perish\n In the coming stormy night.\n\n 4 Now, to-day, and not to-morrow,\n Lest, before to-morrow's sun,\n We, too, mournfully departing,\n Shall have left our work undone.\n\n\n971 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Freely you have received, etc.\n Matt. 10:8.\n\n With my substance I will honor\n My Redeemer and my Lord;\n Were ten thousand worlds my manor,\n All were nothing to his word:\n Hallelujah!\n Now we offer to the Lord.\n\n 2 While the heralds of salvation\n His abounding grace proclaim,\n Let his saints of every station\n Gladly join to spread his fame:\n Hallelujah!\n Gifts we offer to his name.\n\n 3 May his kingdom be promoted;\n May the world the Saviour know;\n Be to him these gifts devoted,\n For to him my all I owe:\n Hallelujah!\n Run, ye heralds to and fro.\n\n 4 Praise the Saviour, all ye nations;\n Praise him, all ye hosts above;\n Shout with joyful acclamations\n His divine, victorious love:\n Hallelujah!\n By this gift our love we'll prove.\n\n\n972 11s & 10s.\n That he who loveth God, etc.\n 1 John 4:21.\n\n One whom Jesus loved has truly spoken!\n The holier worship which God deigns to bless,\n Restores the lost, and heals the spirit broken,\n And feeds the widow and the fatherless.\n\n 2 Then, brother man, fold to thy heart thy brother!\n For where love dwells, the peace of God is there;\n To worship rightly is to love each other;\n Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.\n\n 3 Follow, with reverent steps, the great example\n Of him whose holy work was doing good;\n So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple,\n Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.\n\n 4 Thus shall all shackles fall; the stormy clangor\n Of wild war music o'er the earth shall cease;\n Love shall tread out the baleful fires of anger,\n And in its ashes plant the tree of peace.\n\n\n973 11s & 10s.\n I the Lord will hasten it, etc.\n Isaiah 60:22.\n\n Down the dark future, through long generations,\n The sounds of war grow fainter, and then cease;\n And like a bell with solemn, sweet vibrations,\n I hear once more the voice of Christ say, \"Peace!\"\n\n 2 Peace! and no longer, from its brazen portals,\n The blast of war's great organ shakes the skies;\n But beautiful as songs of the immortals,\n The holy melodies of love arise.\n\n\n974 11s & 10s.\n Peace on earth.\n\n Peace, peace on earth! the heart of man for ever,\n Through all these weary strifes, foretells the day;\n Blessed be God, the hope forsakes him never,\n That war shall end, and swords be sheathed for aye.\n\n 2 Peace, peace on earth! for men shall love each other;\n Hosts shall go forth to bless, and not destroy;\n For man shall see in every man a brother,\n And peace on earth fulfill the angels' joy.\n\n\n975 10s.\n Restore such a one in the spirit, etc.\n Gal. 6:1.\n\n Breathe thoughts of pity o'er a brother's fall,\n But dwell not with stern anger on his fault:\n The grace of God alone holds thee, holds all;\n Were that withdrawn, thou too wouldst swerve and halt.\n\n 2 Send back the wanderer to the Saviour's fold--\n That were an action worthy of a saint;\n But not in malice let the crime be told,\n Nor publish to the world the evil taint.\n\n 3 The Saviour suffers when his children slide;\n Then is his holy name by men blasphemed!\n And he afresh is mocked and crucified,\n Even by those his bitter death redeemed.\n\n 4 Rebuke the sin, and yet in love rebuke;\n Feel as one member in another's pain;\n Win back the soul that his fair path forsook,\n And mighty and eternal is thy gain.\n\n\n976 8s & 5s.\n Work on, hope on.\n\n Every day hath toil and trouble,\n Every heart hath care;\n Meekly bear thine own full measure,\n And thy brother's share,\n Fear not, shrink not, though the burden\n Heavy to thee prove;\n God shall fill thy mouth with gladness,\n And thy heart with love.\n\n 2 Patiently enduring, ever\n Let thy spirit be\n Bound, by links that can not sever,\n To humanity.\n Labor, wait! thy master labored\n Till his task was done;\n Count not lost thy fleeting moments--\n Life hath but begun.\n\n 3 Labor! wait! though midnight shadows\n Gather round thee here,\n And the storm above thee lowering\n Fill thy heart with fear--\n Wait in hope! the morning dawneth\n When the night is gone,\n And a peaceful rest awaits thee\n When thy work is done.\n\n\n\n\n PRIVATE DEVOTIONS.\n\n\n977 L. M.\n Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone.\n\n Far from my thoughts, vain world! begone,\n Let my religious hours alone:\n Fain would mine eyes my Saviour see;\n I wait a visit, Lord! from thee.\n\n 2 My heart grows warm with holy fire,\n And kindles with a pure desire;\n Come, my dear Jesus! from above,\n And feed my soul with heavenly love.\n\n 3 Blest Saviour, what delicious fare--\n How sweet thine entertainments are!\n Never did angels taste above\n Redeeming grace and dying love.\n\n 4 Hail, great Immanuel, all-divine!\n In thee thy Father's glories shine:\n Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest One,\n That eyes have seen, or angels known!\n\n\n978 L. M.\n Abide with us; for it is toward evening.\n Luke 24:29.\n\n Sun of my soul! thou Saviour dear,\n It is not night if thou be near:\n O, may no earth-born cloud arise\n To hide thee from thy servant's eyes!\n\n 2 When soft the dews of kindly sleep\n My wearied eyelids gently steep,\n Be my last thought--how sweet to rest\n For ever on my Saviour's breast!\n\n 3 Abide with me from morn till eve,\n For without thee I can not live;\n Abide with me when night is nigh,\n For without thee I dare not die.\n\n 4 Be near to bless me when I wake,\n Ere through the world my way I take;\n Abide with me till in thy love\n I lose myself in heaven above.\n\n\n979 L. M.\n The fullness of God.\n Eph. 3:19.\n\n My God, my heart with love inflame,\n That I may in thy holy name\n Aloud in songs of praise rejoice,\n While I have breath to raise my voice.\n\n 2 No more let my ungrateful heart\n One moment from thy praise depart;\n But live and sing in sweet accord,\n The glories of my sovereign Lord.\n\n 3 Jesus! thou hope of glory, come,\n And make my heart thy constant home:\n Through all the remnant of my days,\n O let me speak and live thy praise!\n\n\n980 8s & 4s.\n In the night watches.\n Psalm 63:6.\n\n In silence of the voiceless night,\n When chased by dreams, the slumbers flee,\n Whom, in the darkness, do I seek,\n O God, but thee?\n\n 2 And if there weigh upon my breast,\n Vague memories of the day foregone,\n Scarce knowing why, I fly to thee,\n And lay them down.\n\n 3 Or, if it be the gloom that comes,\n In token of impending ill,\n My bosom heeds not what it is,\n Since 'tis thy will.\n\n 4 For, O! in spite of constant care,\n Or aught beside, how joyfully\n I pass that solitary hour,\n My God, with thee!\n\n 5 More tranquil than the stilly night,\n More peaceful than that voiceless hour,\n Supremely blest, my bosom lies\n Beneath thy power.\n\n 6 For what on earth can I desire,\n Of all it hath to offer me?\n Or whom in heaven do I seek,\n O God, but thee?\n\n\n981 L. M.\n In the world, but not of it.\n\n O that I could for ever dwell,\n Delighted, at the Saviour's feet;\n Behold the form I love so well,\n And all his tender words repeat!\n\n 2 The world shut out from all my soul,\n And heaven brought in with all its bliss,\n O! is there aught from pole to pole,\n One moment to compare with this?\n\n 3 This is the hidden life I prize--\n A life of penitential love;\n When I my follies most despise,\n And raise my highest thoughts above?\n\n 4 When all I am I clearly see,\n And freely own with deepest shame;\n When the Redeemer's love to me\n Kindles within a deathless flame.\n\n 5 Thus would I live till nature fail,\n And all my former sins forsake;\n Then rise to God within the vail,\n And of eternal joys partake.\n\n\n982 L. M.\n Retirement and meditation.\n Psalm 4:4.\n\n Return, my roving heart, return,\n And chase these shadowy forms no more;\n Seek out some solitude to mourn,\n And thy forsaken God implore.\n\n 2 O thou, great God, whose piercing eye\n Distinctly marks each deep recess;\n In these sequestered hours draw nigh,\n And with thy presence fill the place.\n\n 3 Through all the windings of my heart,\n My search let heavenly wisdom guide;\n And still its radiant beams impart\n Till all be searched and purified.\n\n 4 Then with the visits of thy love,\n Vouchsafe my inmost soul to cheer;\n Till every grace shall join to prove\n That God has fixed his dwelling there.\n\n\n983 L. M. D.\n The gate of heaven.\n\n Our Father God! not face to face\n May mortal sense commune with thee,\n Nor lift the curtains of that place\n Where dwells thy secret Majesty:\n Yet wheresoe'er our spirits bend\n In reverent faith and humble prayer,\n Thy promised blessing will descend,\n And we shall find thy Spirit there.\n\n 2 Lord! be the spot where now we meet\n An open gateway into heaven;\n Here may we sit at Jesus' feet,\n And feel our deepest sins forgiven.\n Here may desponding care look up;\n And sorrow lay its burden down,\n Or learn of him to drink the cup,\n To bear the cross and win the crown.\n\n 3 Here may the sick and wandering soul,\n To truth still blind, to sin a slave,\n Find better than Bethesda's pool,\n Or than Siloam's healing wave;\n And may we learn, while here, apart\n From the world's passion and its strife,\n That thy true shrine's a loving heart,\n And thy best praise a holy life!\n\n\n984 C. M.\n Joy unspeakable.\n 1 Pet. 1:8.\n\n Sweet is the prayer whose holy stream\n In earnest pleading flows;\n Devotion dwells upon the theme,\n And warm and warmer glows.\n\n 2 Faith grasps the blessing she desires,\n Hope points the upward gaze;\n And love, untrembling love inspires\n The eloquence of praise.\n\n 3 But sweeter far the still, small voice,\n Heard by the human ear,\n When God hath made the heart rejoice,\n And dried the bitter tear.\n\n 4 Nor accents flow, nor words ascend;\n All utterance faileth there;\n But listening spirits comprehend,\n And God accepts the prayer.\n\n\n985 C. M.\n Communion with God in retirement.\n\n Far from the world, O Lord, I flee,\n From strife and tumult far;\n From scenes where Satan wages still\n His most successful war.\n\n 2 The calm retreat, the silent shade,\n With prayer and praise agree;\n And seem by thy sweet bounty made\n For those who follow thee.\n\n 3 There, if thy Spirit touch the soul,\n And grace her mean abode,\n O, with what peace, and joy, and love,\n She then communes with God!\n\n 4 There, like the nightingale she pours\n Her solitary lays;\n Nor asks a witness of her song,\n Nor thirsts for human praise.\n\n 5 Author and Guardian of my life!\n Sweet Source of light divine,\n And all harmonious names in one--\n My Saviour!--thou art mine!\n\n 6 What thanks I owe thee, and what love--\n A boundless, endless store--\n Shall echo through the realms above,\n When time shall be no more.\n\n\n986 C. M.\n Secret prayer.\n Matt. 6:6.\n\n Father divine, thy piercing eye\n Sees through the darkest night,\n In deep retirement thou art nigh,\n With heart-discerning sight.\n\n 2 There may that piercing eye survey,\n My duteous homage paid,\n With every morning's dawning ray\n And every evening's shade.\n\n 3 O let thy own celestial fire\n The incense still inflame;\n While my warm vows to thee aspire,\n Through my Redeemer's name.\n\n 4 So shall the visits of thy love\n My soul in secret bless;\n So shalt thou deign in worlds above,\n Thy suppliant to confess.\n\n\n987 C. M.\n Sanctify the Lord God in your hearts.\n 1 Pet. 3:15\n\n O could I find, from day to day,\n A nearness to my God,\n Then would my hours glide sweet away\n While leaning on his word.\n\n 2 Lord, I desire with thee to live\n Anew from day to day,\n In joys the world can never give,\n Nor ever take away.\n\n 3 Blest Jesus, come and rule my heart,\n And make me wholly thine,\n That I may never more depart,\n Nor grieve thy love divine.\n\n 4 Thus, till my last, expiring breath,\n Thy goodness I'll adore;\n And when my frame dissolves in death,\n My soul shall love thee more.\n\n\n988 S. M.\n I am still with thee.\n Psalm 139:18.\n\n Still with thee, O my God,\n I would desire to be;\n By day, by night, at home, abroad,\n I would be still with thee;--\n\n 2 With thee, when dawn comes in,\n And calls me back to care;\n Each day returning to begin\n With thee, my God, in prayer;--\n\n 3 With thee, amid the crowd\n That throngs the busy mart,\n To hear thy voice, 'mid clamor loud,\n Speak softly to my heart;--\n\n 4 With thee, when day is done,\n And evening calms the mind:\n The setting as the rising sun,\n With thee my heart would find.\n\n 5 With thee, when darkness brings\n The signal of repose,\n Calm in the shadow of thy wings,\n Mine eyelids I would close.\n\n 6 With thee, in thee, by faith\n Abiding I would be;\n By day, by night, in life, in death,\n I would be still with thee.\n\n\n989 7s.\n Your life is hid with Christ in God.\n Coll. 3:3.\n\n Let my life be hid in thee,\n Life of life, and Light of light!\n Love's illimitable Sea!\n Depth of peace, of power the Hight.\n\n 2 Let my life be hid in thee,\n When my foes are gathering round;\n Covered with thy panoply,\n Safe within thy holy ground.\n\n 3 Let my life be hid in thee,\n From vexation and annoy;\n Calm in thy tranquillity,\n All my mourning turned to joy.\n\n 4 Let my life be hid in thee;\n When my strength and health shall fail,\n Let thine immortality\n In my dying hour prevail.\n\n\n990 7s, double.\n That I may win Christ.\n Phil. 3:8.\n\n Jesus, Saviour all divine,\n Hast thou made me truly thine?\n Hast thou bought me by thy blood?\n Reconciled my heart to God?\n Hearken to my tender prayer,\n Let me thine own image bear;\n Let me love thee more and more,\n Till I reach heaven's blissful shore.\n\n 2 Thou canst fit me by thy grace\n For the heavenly dwelling-place;\n All thy promises are sure,\n Ever shall thy love endure;\n Then what more could I desire,\n How to greater bliss aspire?\n All I need, in thee I see,\n Thou art all in all to me.\n\n\n991 7s.\n Thou God seest me.\n Gen. 16:13.\n\n God is in the loneliest spot\n Present, though thou know it not;\n Morning vows and evening prayer\n Make a Bethel everywhere.\n\n 2 Go where duty guides thy feet;\n There good angels thou shalt meet;\n Hosts of God thou canst not see,\n Watch thy steps and wait on thee.\n\n\n992 12s & 11s.\n I make mention of you, etc.\n Rom. 1:9.\n\n When far from the hearts where our fondest thoughts center,\n Denied for a time their loved presence to share;\n In spirit we meet, when the closet we enter,\n And hold sweet communion together in prayer!\n\n 2 O! fondly I think, as night's curtains surround them,\n The Shepherd of Israel tenderly keeps,\n The angels of light are encamping around them,\n They are watched by the eye that ne'er slumbers nor sleeps,\n\n 3 When the voice of the morning once more shall awake them,\n And summon them forth to the calls of the day,\n I will think of that God who will never forsake them,\n The Friend ever near though all else be away.\n\n 4 Then why should one thought of anxiety seize us,\n Though distance divide us from those whom we love?\n They rest in the covenant mercy of Jesus,\n Their prayers meet with ours in the mansions above.\n\n 5 O! sweet bond of friendship, whate'er may betide us,\n Though on life's stormy billows our barks may be driven,\n Though distance, or trial, or death may divide us,\n Eternal re-union awaits us in heaven.\n\n\n\n\n AFFLICTIONS.\n\n\n993 L. M.\n The things that are unseen are eternal.\n 2 Cor. 4:18.\n\n Thy will be done! I will not fear\n The fate provided by thy love;\n Though clouds and darkness shroud me here,\n I know that all is bright above.\n\n 2 The stars of heaven are shining on,\n Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears;\n The hopes of earth indeed are gone,\n But are not ours the immortal years?\n\n 3 Father! forgive the heart that clings,\n Thus trembling, to the things of time;\n And bid my soul, on angel wings,\n Ascend into a purer clime.\n\n 4 There shall no doubts disturb its trust,\n No sorrows dim celestial love;\n But these afflictions of the dust,\n Like shadows of the night, remove.\n\n 5 E'en now, above, there's radiant day,\n While clouds and darkness brood below;\n Then, Father, joyful on my way\n To drink the bitter cup I go.\n\n\n994 L. M.\n Blessed are they that mourn.\n Matt. 5:4.\n\n Deem not that they are blest alone\n Whose days a peaceful tenor keep;\n The God who loves our race has shown\n A blessing for the eyes that weep.\n\n 2 The light of smiles shall fill again\n The lids that overflow with tears,\n And weary hours of woe and pain\n Are earnests of serener years.\n\n 3 O, there are days of hope and rest\n For every dark and troubled night!\n And grief may bide an evening guest,\n But joy shall come with early light.\n\n 4 And thou who o'er thy friend's low bier\n Dost shed the bitter drops like rain,\n Hope that a brighter, happier sphere\n Will give him to thy arms again.\n\n 5 Nor let the good man's trust depart,\n Though life its common gifts deny;\n Though with a pierced and broken heart,\n And spurned of men, he goes to die.\n\n 6 For God hath marked each anguished day,\n And numbered every secret tear;\n And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay\n For all his children suffer here.\n\n\n995 L. M.\n Let not the water-flood overflow me.\n Psalm 69:15.\n\n God of my life, to thee I call;\n Afflicted at thy feet I fall;\n When the great water-floods prevail,\n Leave not my trembling heart to fail.\n\n 2 Friend of the friendless and the faint,\n Where should I lodge my deep complaint?\n Where, but with thee, whose open door\n Invites the helpless and the poor?\n\n 3 He who has helped me hitherto,\n Will help me all the journey through,\n And give me daily cause to raise\n New trophies to his endless praise.\n\n 4 Though rough and thorny be the road,\n It leads thee home, apace, to God;\n Then count thy present trials small,\n For heaven will make amends for all.\n\n\n996 L. M.\n God only is my rock.\n Psalm 62:2.\n\n My spirit looks to God alone;\n My rock and refuge is his throne;\n In all my fears, in all my straits,\n My soul for his salvation waits.\n\n 2 Trust him, ye saints, in all your ways;\n Pour out your hearts before his face;\n When helpers fail, and foes invade,\n God is our all-sufficient aid.\n\n\n997 L. M. 6 lines.\n Heb. 4:15.\n\n As oft, with worn and weary feet,\n We tread earth's rugged valley o'er,\n The thought--how comforting and sweet!\n Christ took this very path before!\n Our wants and weaknesses he knows,\n From life's first dawning to its close.\n\n 2 Do sickness, feebleness, or pain,\n Or sorrow, in our path appear?\n The recollection will remain,\n More deeply did he suffer here!\n His life, how truly sad and brief,\n Filled up with suffering and with grief!\n\n 3 If Satan tempt our hearts to stray,\n And whisper evil things within,\n So did he, in the desert way,\n Assail our Lord with thoughts of sin;\n When worn, and in a feeble hour,\n The tempter came with all his power.\n\n 4 Just such as I, this earth he trod,\n With every human ill but sin;\n And, though indeed the Son of God,\n As I am now, so he has been.\n My God, my Saviour, look on me\n With pity, love and sympathy.\n\n\n998 L. M.\n The refiner's fire.\n Mal. 3:3.\n\n Saviour! though my rebellious will\n Has been, by thy blest power, renewed;\n Yet in its secret workings still\n How much remains to be subdued!\n\n 2 Oft I recall, with grief and shame,\n How many years their course had run\n Ere grace my murmuring heart o'ercame,\n Ere I could say, \"Thy will be done!\"\n\n 3 At length thy patient, wondrous love,\n Unchanging, tender, pitying, strong,\n Availed that stony heart to move,\n Which had rebelled, alas! so long.\n\n 4 Then was I taught by thee to say,\n \"Do with me what to thee seems best,\n Give--take, whate'er thou wilt away,\n Health, comfort, usefulness, or rest.\n\n 5 \"Be my whole life in suffering spent,\n But let me be in suffering thine;\n Still, O my Lord, I am content,\n Thou now hast made thy pleasure mine.\"\n\n\n999 L. M. 6 lines.\n Touched with the feeling of, etc.\n Heb. 4:15.\n\n When gathering clouds around I view,\n And days are dark and friends are few;\n On him I lean, who, not in vain,\n Experienced every human pain.\n He sees my wants, allays my fears,\n And counts and treasures up my tears.\n\n 2 If aught should tempt my soul to stray\n From heavenly wisdom's narrow way,\n To fly the good I would pursue,\n Or do the ill I would not do;\n Still he who felt temptation's power,\n Will guard me in that dangerous hour.\n\n 3 When, sorrowing, o'er some stone I bend,\n Which covers all that was a friend;\n And from his hand, his voice, his smile,\n Divides me for a little while--\n My Saviour marks the tears I shed,\n For \"Jesus wept\" o'er Lazarus dead.\n\n 4 And, O! when I have safely passed\n Through every conflict but the last,\n Still, Lord, unchanging, watch beside\n My dying bed, for thou hast died;\n Then point to realms of cloudless day,\n And wipe the latest tear away.\n\n\n1000 L. M.\n I was brought low, and he helped me.\n Psalm 116:6.\n\n I will extol thee, Lord on high:\n At thy command diseases fly;\n Who, but a God can speak and save\n From the dark borders of the grave?\n\n 2 Thine anger but a moment stays,\n Thy love is life and length of days:\n Though grief and tears the night employ,\n The morning star restores our joy.\n\n\n1001 C. M.\n O Lord, save me, and I shall be saved.\n Jer. 17:14.\n\n Great Source of boundless power and grace!\n Attend my mournful cry;\n In hours of dark and deep distress,\n To thee alone I fly.\n\n 2 Thou art my Strength, my Life, my Stay;\n Assist my feeble trust;\n O, drive my gloomy fears away,\n And raise me from the dust.\n\n 3 Fain would I call thy grace to mind,\n And trust thy glorious name:\n Jehovah, powerful, wise, and kind,\n For ever is the same.\n\n 4 Thy presence, Lord, can cheer my heart,\n When earthly comforts die;\n Thy voice can bid my pains depart,\n And raise my pleasures high.\n\n 5 Here let me rest--on thee depend,\n My God, my Hope, my All;\n Be thou my everlasting Friend,\n And I shall never fall.\n\n\n1002 C. M.\n Thou rulest the raging of the sea.\n Psalm 89:9.\n\n To thee, my God, whose presence fills\n The earth, and seas, and skies,\n To thee, whose name, whose heart is Love,\n With all my powers I rise.\n\n 2 Troubles in long succession roll;\n Wave rushes upon wave;\n Pity, O pity my distress!\n Thy child, thy suppliant, save!\n\n 3 O bid the roaring tempest cease;\n Or give me strength to bear\n Whate'er thy holy will appoints,\n And save me from despair!\n\n 4 To thee, my God, alone I look,\n On thee alone confide;\n Thou never hast deceived the soul\n That on thy grace relied.\n\n 5 Though oft thy ways are wrapt in clouds\n Mysterious and unknown,\n Truth, righteousness, and mercy stand,\n The pillars of thy throne.\n\n\n1003 C. M.\n Acts 14:22.\n\n Christ leads me through no darker rooms\n Than he went through before:\n He that into God's kingdom comes\n Must enter by this door.\n\n 2 Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet\n Thy blessed face to see;\n For if thy work on earth be sweet,\n What must thy glory be?\n\n 3 Then I shall end my sad complaints,\n And weary, sinful days,\n And join with those triumphant saints\n That sing Jehovah's praise.\n\n\n1004 C. M.\n When the waves arise, thou stillest them.\n Psalm 89:9.\n\n Affliction is a stormy deep,\n Where wave resounds to wave;\n Though o'er our heads the billows roll,\n We know the Lord can save.\n\n 2 When darkness, and when sorrows rose,\n And pressed on every side,\n The Lord hath still sustained our steps,\n And still hath been our guide.\n\n 3 Perhaps, before the morning dawn,\n He will restore our peace;\n For he who bade the tempest roar\n Can bid the tempest cease.\n\n 4 Here will we rest, here build our hopes,\n Nor murmur at his rod;\n He's more to us than all the world--\n Our Health, our Life, our God.\n\n\n1005 C. M.\n Songs in the night.\n Job. 35:10.\n\n O thou who driest the mourner's tear,\n How dark this world would be,\n If, when deceived and wounded here,\n We could not fly to thee.\n\n 2 But thou wilt heal the broken heart,\n Which, like the plants that throw\n Their fragrance from the wounded part,\n Breathes sweetness out of woe.\n\n 3 When joy no longer soothes or cheers,\n And e'en the hope that threw\n A moment's sparkle o'er our tears\n Is dimmed and vanished too;\n\n 4 O, who would bear life's stormy doom,\n Did not thy wing of love\n Come brightly wafting through the gloom,\n Our peace-branch from above?\n\n 5 Then sorrow, touched by thee, grows bright\n With more than rapture's ray;\n The darkness shows us worlds of light\n We never saw by day.\n\n\n1006 C. M.\n God is my portion for ever.\n Psalm 73:26.\n\n My times of sorrow and of joy,\n Great God! are in thy hand;\n My choicest comforts come from thee,\n And go at thy command.\n\n 2 If thou shouldst take them all away,\n Yet would I not repine;\n Before they were possessed by me,\n They were entirely thine.\n\n 3 Nor would I drop a murmuring word,\n Though all the world were gone,\n But seek enduring happiness\n In thee, and thee alone.\n\n\n1007 C. M. 6 lines.\n God is the strength of my heart.\n Psalm 73:26.\n\n Happy are they who learn in thee,\n Though patient suffering teach,\n The secret of enduring strength,\n And praise too deep for speech;\n Peace that no pleasure from without,\n Nor strife within, can reach.\n\n 2 Safe in thy sanctifying grace,\n Almighty to restore,\n Borne onward--sin and death behind,\n And love and life before--\n O let my soul abound in hope,\n And praise thee evermore!\n\n\n1008 C. M.\n The Lord will strengthen him, etc.\n Psalm 41:3.\n\n When languor and disease invade\n This trembling house of clay,\n 'Tis sweet to look beyond my pains,\n And long to fly away:\n\n 2 Sweet to look inward, and attend\n The whispers of his love;\n Sweet to look upward to the place\n Where Jesus pleads above:\n\n 3 Sweet to look back, and see my name\n In life's fair book set down;\n Sweet to look forward, and behold\n Eternal joys my own:\n\n 4 Sweet to rejoice in lively hope,\n That when my change shall come,\n Angels shall hover round my bed,\n And waft my spirit home:\n\n 5 Sweet in his faithfulness to rest,\n Whose love can never end;\n Sweet on his covenant of grace\n For all things to depend.\n\n 6 If such the sweetness of the streams,\n What must the fountain be,\n Where saints and angels draw their bliss\n Immediately from thee!\n\n 7 O may the unction of these truths\n For ever with me stay,\n Till, from her sin-worn cage dismissed,\n My spirit flies away.\n\n\n1009 C. M.\n The sorrows of death compassed me.\n Psalm 116:3.\n\n My God, thy service well demands\n The remnant of my days:\n Why was this fleeting breath renewed,\n But to renew thy praise?\n\n 2 Thine arms of everlasting love\n Did this weak frame sustain;\n When life was hovering o'er the grave,\n And nature sunk with pain.\n\n 3 Thou, when the pains of death were felt,\n Didst chase the fears of hell,\n And teach my pale and quivering lips\n Thy matchless grace to tell.\n\n 4 Calmly I bowed my fainting head\n On thy dear, faithful breast;\n Pleased to obey my Father's call\n To his eternal rest.\n\n 5 Into thy hands, my Saviour God,\n Did I my soul resign,\n In firm dependence on that truth\n Which made salvation mine.\n\n 6 Back from the borders of the grave,\n At thy command I come,\n Nor will I urge a speedier flight\n To my celestial home.\n\n\n1010 C. M.\n Christ our Refuge.\n Heb. 6:18.\n\n In every trouble, sharp and strong,\n My soul to Jesus flies;\n My anchor-hold is firm in him,\n When swelling billows rise.\n\n 2 His comforts bear my spirits up,\n I trust a faithful God;\n The sure foundation of my hope\n Is in a Saviour's blood.\n\n 3 Loud hallelujahs sing, my soul,\n To thy Redeemer's name;\n In joy and sorrow, life and death,\n His love is still the same.\n\n\n1011 C. M.\n Entire submission.\n\n And can my heart aspire so high,\n To say--\"My Father God!\"\n Lord, at thy feet I long to lie,\n And learn to kiss the rod.\n\n 2 I would submit to all thy will,\n For thou art good and wise;\n Let every anxious thought be still,\n Nor one faint murmur rise.\n\n 3 Thy love can cheer the darksome gloom,\n And bid me wait serene;\n Till hopes and joys immortal bloom,\n And brighten all the scene.\n\n 4 My Father! O permit my heart\n To plead her humble claim;\n And ask the bliss those words impart,\n In my Redeemer's name.\n\n\n1012 C. M.\n Out of the depths.\n Psalm 130:1.\n\n O thou! who, in the olive shade,\n When the dark hour came on,\n Didst, with a breath of heavenly aid,\n Strengthen thy suffering Son;\n\n 2 O, by the anguish of that night,\n Send us now blest relief;\n Or to the chastened, let thy might\n Hallow this whelming grief.\n\n 3 And thou, that, when the starry sky,\n Saw the dread strife begun,\n Didst teach adoring faith to cry,\n Father! thy will be done;\n\n 4 By thy meek Spirit, thou, of all\n That e'er have mourned the chief,\n Blest Saviour! if the stroke must fall,\n Hallow this whelming grief.\n\n\n1013 C. M.\n One thing have I desired.\n Psalm 27:4.\n\n With earnest longings of the mind,\n My God, to thee I look;\n So pants the hunted hart to find\n And taste the cooling brook.\n\n 2 When shall I see thy courts of grace,\n And meet my God again?\n So long an absence from thy face,\n My heart endures with pain.\n\n 3 'Tis with a mournful pleasure now,\n I think on ancient days;\n Then to thy house did numbers go,\n And all our work was praise.\n\n 4 But why, my soul, sunk down so far,\n Beneath this heavy load?\n Why do my thoughts indulge despair;\n And sin against my God?\n\n 5 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand\n Can all thy woes remove;\n For I shall yet before him stand,\n And sing restoring love.\n\n\n1014 C. M.\n Thou hast loosed my bonds.\n Psalm 116:16.\n\n Now to thy heavenly Father's praise,\n My heart, thy tribute bring;\n That goodness which prolongs my days,\n With grateful pleasure sing.\n\n 2 Whene'er he sends afflicting pains,\n His mercy holds the rod;\n His powerful word the heart sustains,\n And speaks a faithful God.\n\n 3 A faithful God is ever nigh\n When humble grief implores;\n His ear attends each plaintive sigh,\n He pities and restores.\n\n 4 Lord, I am thine, for ever thine,\n Nor shall my purpose move;\n Thy hand, that loosed my bonds of pain,\n Has bound me with thy love.\n\n\n1015 S. M.\n Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.\n Heb. 12:6.\n\n How tender is thy hand,\n O thou most gracious Lord!\n Afflictions come at thy command,\n And leave us at thy word.\n\n 2 How gentle was the rod\n That chastened us for sin!\n How soon we found a smiling God,\n Where deep distress had been!\n\n 3 A Father's hand we felt,\n A Father's heart we knew;\n 'Mid tears of penitence we knelt,\n And found his word was true.\n\n 4 Now we will bless the Lord,\n And in his strength confide;\n For ever be his name adored,\n For there is none beside.\n\n\n1016 S. M.\n Lead me to the Rock, etc.\n Psalm 61:2.\n\n When overwhelmed with grief,\n My heart within me dies,\n Helpless, and far from all relief,\n To heaven I lift mine eyes.\n\n 2 O lead me to the Rock\n That's high above my head,\n And make the covert of thy wings\n My shelter and my shade.\n\n 3 Within thy presence, Lord,\n For ever I'll abide;\n Thou art the tower of my defense,\n The refuge where I hide.\n\n\n1017 S. M.\n The bow in the cloud.\n\n Out of the depths of woe,\n To thee, O Lord! I cry;\n Darkness surrounds thee, but I know\n That thou art ever nigh.\n\n 2 Like them I watch and pray,\n Who for the morning long;\n Catch the first gleam of welcome day,\n Then burst into a song.\n\n 3 Glory to God above!\n The waters soon will cease;\n For, lo! the swift returning dove\n Brings home the sign of peace!\n\n 4 Though storms thy face obscure,\n And dangers threaten loud,\n Thy holy covenant is sure;\n Thy bow is in the cloud!\n\n\n1018 S. M.\n God dealeth with you as with sons.\n Heb. 12:7.\n\n How gracious and how wise\n Is our chastising God;\n And, O! how rich the blessings are\n Which blossom from his rod!\n\n 2 He lifts it up on high\n With pity in his heart,\n That every stroke his children feel,\n May grace and peace impart.\n\n 3 Instructed thus, they bow\n And own his sovereign sway;\n They turn their erring footsteps back\n To his forsaken way.\n\n 4 His covenant love they seek,\n And seek the happy bands\n That closer still engage their hearts\n To honor his commands.\n\n 5 Our Father, we consent\n To discipline divine;\n And bless the pain that makes our souls\n Still more completely thine.\n\n 6 Supported by thy love,\n We tend to realms of peace,\n Where every pain shall far remove,\n And every frailty cease.\n\n\n1019 S. M.\n The inward man is renewed, etc.\n 2 Cor. 4:16.\n\n We love this outward world,\n Its fair sky overhead,\n Its morning's soft, gray mist unfurled,\n Its sunsets rich and red.\n\n 2 But there's a world within,\n That higher glory hath;\n A life the struggling soul must win--\n The life of joy and faith.\n\n 3 For this the Father's love\n Doth shade the world of sense,\n The bounding play of health remove,\n And dim the sparkling glance;\n\n 4 That, though the earth grows dull,\n And earthly pleasures few,\n The spirit gain its wisdom full\n To suffer and to do.\n\n 5 Holy this world within,\n Unknown to sound or sight--\n The world of victory over sin,\n Of faith, and love, and light.\n\n\n1020 S. M.\n Perfect peace in Christ.\n Isaiah 26:3.\n\n Thou very present aid\n In suffering and distress,\n The soul which still on thee is stayed,\n Is kept in perfect peace.\n\n 2 The soul, by faith reclined\n On the Redeemer's breast,\n 'Mid raging storms exults to find\n An everlasting rest.\n\n 3 Sorrow and fear are gone\n Whene'er thy face appears:\n It stills the sighing orphan's moan,\n And dries the widow's tears:\n\n 4 It hallows every cross;\n It sweetly comforts me;\n Makes me forget my every loss,\n And find my all in thee.\n\n 5 Jesus, to whom I fly,\n Doth all my wishes fill:\n What though created streams are dry,\n I have the fountain still.\n\n 6 Stripped of my earthly friends,\n I find them all in One;\n And peace and joy that never ends,\n And heaven in Christ begun.\n\n\n1021 7s.\n One for evermore with thee.\n\n Prince of Peace! control my will;\n Bid this struggling heart be still;\n Bid my fears and doubtings cease--\n Hush my spirit into peace.\n\n 2 Thou hast bought me with thy blood,\n Opened wide the gate to God;\n Peace I ask--but peace must be,\n Lord, in being one with thee.\n\n 3 May thy will, not mine, be done;\n May thy will and mine be one:\n Chase these doubtings from my heart;\n Now thy perfect peace impart.\n\n 4 Saviour, at thy feet I fall;\n Thou my Life, my God, my All,\n Let thy happy servant be\n One for evermore with thee.\n\n\n1022 7s.\n Correct me, but with judgment.\n Jer. 10:24.\n\n Gently, gently lay thy rod\n On my sinful head, O God!\n Stay thy wrath, in mercy stay,\n Lest I sink beneath its sway.\n\n 2 Heal me, for my flesh is weak;\n Heal me, for thy grace I seek;\n This my only plea I make--\n Heal me for thy mercy's sake.\n\n 3 Who, within the silent grave,\n Shall proclaim thy power to save?\n Lord! my sinking soul reprieve;\n Speak, and I shall rise and live.\n\n 4 Lo! he comes--he heeds my plea!\n Lo! he comes--the shadows flee;\n Glory round me dawns once more!\n Rise, my spirit, and adore!\n\n\n1023 7s.\n Affliction cometh not forth of the dust.\n Job 5:6.\n\n 'Tis my happiness below,\n Not to live without the cross,\n But the Saviour's power to know,\n Sanctifying every loss.\n\n 2 Trials must and will befall;\n But with humble faith to see\n Love inscribed upon them all--\n This is happiness to me.\n\n 3 Did I meet no trials here,\n No chastisement by the way;\n Might I not, with reason, fear\n I should prove a castaway?\n\n 4 Trials make the promise sweet;\n Trials give new life to prayer;\n Trials bring me to his feet--\n Lay me low, and keep me there.\n\n\n1024 8s & 7s.\n All thy waves and thy billows, etc.\n Psalm 42:7.\n\n Full of trembling expectation,\n Feeling much and fearing more,\n Mighty God of my salvation!\n I thy timely aid implore;\n Suffering Son of Man, be near me,\n All my sufferings to sustain;\n By thy sorer griefs to cheer me,\n By thy more than mortal pain.\n\n 2 Call to mind that unknown anguish,\n In thy days of flesh below;\n When thy troubled soul did languish\n Under a whole world of woe;\n When thou didst our curse inherit,\n Groan beneath our guilty load,\n Burdened with a wounded spirit,\n Bruised by all the wrath of God.\n\n 3 By thy most severe temptation,\n In that dark, Satanic hour;\n By thy last, mysterious passion,\n Screen me from the adverse power;\n By thy fainting in the garden,\n By thy bloody sweat I pray,\n Write upon my heart the pardon,\n Take my sins and fears away.\n\n 4 By the travail of thy spirit,\n By thine outcry on the tree,\n By thine agonizing merit,\n In my pangs, remember me!\n By thy pangs of crucifixion,\n My weak, dying soul befriend;\n Make me patient in affliction,\n Keep me faithful to the end.\n\n\n1025 8s & 7s.\n Afterward.\n Heb. 12:11.\n\n Why should I, in vain repining,\n Mourn the clouds that cross my way;\n Since my Saviour's presence, shining,\n Turns my darkness into day?\n\n 2 Earthly honor, earthly treasure,\n All the warmest passions win,\n And the silken wings of pleasure\n Only waft us on to sin.\n\n 3 But, within the vale of sorrow,\n All with tempests overblown,\n Purer light and joy we borrow\n From the face of God alone.\n\n 4 Welcome, then, each darker token!\n Mercy sent it from above!\n So the heart, subdued, not broken,\n Bends in fear, and melts with love.\n\n\n1026 8s, 7s & 4s.\n In the night his song shall be with me.\n Psalm 42:8.\n\n In the floods of tribulation,\n While the billows o'er me roll,\n Jesus whispers consolation,\n And supports my sinking soul;\n Sweet affliction!\n Bringing Jesus to my soul.\n\n 2 In the darkest dispensations\n Doth my faithful Lord appear,\n With his richest consolations,\n To reanimate and cheer.\n Sweet affliction!\n Thus to bring my Saviour near.\n\n 3 All I meet shall still befriend me\n In my path to heavenly joy,\n Where, though trials now attend me,\n Trials never more annoy.\n Sweet affliction!\n Every promise gives me joy.\n\n 4 Wearing there a weight of glory,\n Still the path I'll ne'er forget;\n But, exulting, cry, It led me\n To my blessed Saviour's seat.\n Sweet affliction!\n Which has brought me to his feet.\n\n\n1027 8s.\n Thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.\n Psalm 41:3.\n\n How vast is the tribute I owe,\n Of gratitude, homage and praise,\n To the giver of all I possess,\n The life and the length of my days!\n\n 2 When the sorrows I boded were come,\n I poured out my sighs and my tears;\n And to him, who alone can relieve,\n My soul breathed her vows and her prayers.\n\n 3 When my heart throbbed with pain and alarm,\n When paleness my cheek overspread,\n When sickness pervaded my frame--\n Then my soul on my Maker was stayed.\n\n 4 When death's awful image was nigh,\n And no mortal was able to save,\n Thou didst brighten the valley of death,\n And illumine the gloom of the grave.\n\n 5 In mercy thy presence dispels\n The shades of adversity's night,\n And turns the sad scene of despair\n To a morning of joy and delight.\n\n 6 Great source of my comforts restored,\n Thou healer and balm of my woes!\n Thou hope and desire of my soul!\n On thy mercy I'll ever repose.\n\n 7 How boundless the gratitude due\n To thee, O thou God of my praise!\n The fountain of all I possess,\n The life and the light of my days!\n\n\n1028 8s.\n When he hath tried me, etc.\n Job. 23:10.\n\n O why this disconsolate frame!\n Though earthly enjoyments decay,\n My Jesus is ever the same--\n My Sun in the gloomiest day.\n\n 2 Though molten awhile in the fire,\n 'Tis only the gold to refine;\n And be this my simple desire,\n Though suffering, not to repine.\n\n 3 O what are the pleasures to me\n Which earth in its fullness can boast?\n Delusive, its vanities flee--\n A flash of enjoyment at most.\n\n 4 And if my Redeemer could part,\n For me, with his throne in the skies,\n O why is so dear to my heart\n What he in his wisdom denies?\n\n 5 Then let the rude tempest assail,\n Let blasts of adversity blow,\n The heavens, though distant, I hail,\n Beyond this rough ocean of woe.\n\n 6 When safe on that beautiful strand,\n I'd smile on the billows that foam;\n Kind angels to hail me to land,\n And Jesus to welcome me home.\n\n\n1029 7s & 6s.\n I was sick, and ye visited me.\n Matt. 25:36.\n\n 'Tis not a lonely night watch\n Which by the couch I spend:\n Jesus is close beside us,\n Our Saviour and our Friend.\n\n 2 Often I strive all vainly,\n To ease the aching head,\n Then, silently and gently,\n Himself he makes thy bed.\n\n 3 Do we not hear him saying,\n \"Your guilt on me was laid,\"\n \"Ye are my blood-bought jewels;\"\n \"Fear not, be not dismayed.\"\n\n 4 \"I sit beside the furnace,\"\n \"The gold will soon be pure,\"\n \"And blessed are those servants\n Who to the end endure.\"\n\n 5 Amen! O blessed Saviour,\n Dwell with us, in us, here,\n And let us welcome trials,\n Till we thine image bear.\n\n\n1030 11s & 8s.\n I sought him whom my soul loveth.\n Canticles 3:1.\n\n O thou in whose presence my soul takes delight,\n On whom in affliction I call;\n My comfort by day and my song in the night,\n My hope, my salvation, my all!\n\n 2 Where dost thou at noontide resort with thy sheep\n To feed on the pastures of love?\n For why in the valley of death should I weep,\n Or alone in the wilderness rove?\n\n 3 O why should I wander an alien from thee,\n And cry in the desert for bread?\n Thy foes will rejoice when my sorrows they see,\n And smile at the tears I have shed.\n\n 4 You daughters of Zion, declare have you seen\n The star that on Israel shone?\n Say if your tents my beloved has been,\n And where with his flock he is gone?\n\n 5 This is my beloved; his form is divine,\n His vestments shed odors around,\n The locks on his head are as grapes on the vine\n When autumn with plenty is crowned.\n\n 6 The roses of Sharon, the lilies that grow\n In the vales, on the banks of the streams,\n On his cheeks in the beauty of excellence glow,\n And his eyes are as quivers of beams.\n\n 7 His voice, as the sound of the dulcimer sweet,\n Is heard through the shadows of death;\n The cedars of Lebanon bow at his feet,\n The air is perfumed with his breath.\n\n 8 His lips as a fountain of righteousness flow\n That water the garden of grace;\n From which their salvation the Gentiles shall know,\n And bask in the smiles of his face.\n\n 9 Love sits on his eyelids, and scatters delight\n Through all the bright mansions on high;\n Their faces the cherubim vail in his sight,\n And tremble with fullness of joy.\n\n 10 He looks, and ten thousands of angels rejoice,\n And myriads wait for his word;\n He speaks, and eternity, filled with his voice,\n Re-echoes the praise of her Lord.\n\n\n1031 11s & 10s.\n Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.\n 2 Cor. 6:10.\n\n We will not weep, for God is standing by us,\n And tears will blind us to the blessed sight;\n We will not doubt, if darkness still doth try us:\n Our souls have promise of serenest light.\n\n 2 We will not faint, if heavy burdens bend us;\n They press no harder than our souls can bear;\n The thorniest way is lying still behind us;\n We shall be braver for the past despair.\n\n 3 O not in doubt shall be our journey's ending:\n Sin with its fears, shall leave us at the last;\n All its best hopes in glad fulfillment blending,\n Life shall be with us more when death is past.\n\n 4 Help us, O Father! when the world is pressing\n On our frail hearts, that faint without their Friend;\n Help us, O Father! let thy constant blessing\n Strengthen our weakness, till the joyful end.\n\n\n1032 P. M.\n All my springs are in thee.\n Psalm 87:7.\n\n As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean,\n Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,\n So deep in my heart, the still prayer of devotion\n Unheard by the world, rises silent to thee--\n My God! silent to thee--\n Pure, warm, silent to thee.\n\n 2 As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,\n The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,\n So, dark as I roam thro' this wintery world shrouded,\n The hope of my spirit turns trembling to thee--\n My God! trembling to thee--\n True, fond, trembling to thee.\n\n\n1033 4s & 6s, or C. M.\n Canticles 4:16.\n\n The spring-tide hour\n Brings leaf and flower,\n With songs of life and love;\n And many a lay\n Wears out the day\n In many a leafy grove.\n Bird, flower, and tree,\n Seem to agree\n Their choicest gifts to bring;\n But this poor heart\n Bears not its part,\n In it there is no spring.\n\n 2 Dews fall apace,\n The dews of grace,\n Upon this soul of sin;\n And love divine\n Delights to shine\n Upon the waste within:\n Yet year by year,\n Fruits, flowers, appear,\n And birds their praises sing;\n But this poor heart\n Bears not its part,\n Its winter has no spring.\n\n 3 Lord, let thy love,\n Fresh from above,\n Soft as the south-wind blow!\n Call forth its bloom,\n Wake its perfume,\n And bid its spices flow!\n And when thy voice\n Makes earth rejoice,\n And the hills laugh and sing,\n Lord! make this heart\n To bear its part,\n And join the praise of spring!\n\n\n\n\n PRESENT AND FUTURE: LIFE AND DEATH.\n\n\n1034 L. M.\n Soon will the storm of life be o'er.\n\n Gently, my Saviour, let me down,\n To slumber in the arms of death;\n I rest my soul on thee alone,\n E'en till my last, expiring breath.\n\n 2 Soon will the storm of life be o'er,\n And I shall enter endless rest;\n There I shall live to sin no more,\n And bless thy name, for ever blest.\n\n 3 Bid me possess sweet peace within;\n Let childlike patience keep my heart,\n Then shall I feel my heaven begin,\n Before my spirit hence depart.\n\n 4 O, speed thy chariot, God of love,\n And take me from this world of woe;\n I long to reach those joys above,\n And bid farewell to all below.\n\n 5 There shall my raptured spirit raise\n Still louder notes than angels sing,\n High glories to Immanuel's grace,\n My God, my Saviour, and my King!\n\n\n1035 L. M.\n The glory of man is as the flower, etc.\n 1 Pet. 1:24.\n\n The morning flowers display their sweets,\n And gay their silken leaves unfold,\n As careless of the noon-day heats\n And fearless of the evening cold.\n\n 2 Nipt by the wind's untimely blast,\n Parched by the sun's directer ray,\n The momentary glories waste,\n The short-lived beauties die away.\n\n 3 So blooms the human face divine,\n When youth its pride and beauty shows;\n Fairer than spring the colors shine,\n And sweeter than the virgin rose.\n\n 4 Or worn by slowly rolling years,\n Or broke by sickness in a day,\n The fading glory disappears,\n The short-lived beauties die away.\n\n 5 Yet these, new-rising from the tomb,\n With luster brighter far shall shine;\n Revive with ever-during bloom,\n Safe from diseases and decline.\n\n 6 Let sickness blast, and death devour,\n If heaven must recompense our pains;\n Perish the grass, and fade the flower,\n If firm the word of God remains.\n\n\n1036 L. M.\n Death of parents.\n\n The God of mercy will indulge\n The flowing tear, the heaving sigh,\n When honored parents fall around,\n When friends beloved and kindred die.\n\n 2 Yet not one anxious murmuring thought\n Should with our mourning passion blend;\n Nor should our bleeding hearts forget\n Their mighty, ever-living Friend.\n\n 3 Parent, Protector, Guardian, Guide,\n Thou art each tender name in one;\n On thee we cast our every care,\n And comfort seek from thee alone.\n\n 4 To thee, our Father, would we look,\n Our Rock, our Portion, and our Friend,\n And on thy covenant love and truth,\n With humble, steadfast hope depend.\n\n\n1037 L. M.\n They are not lost, but gone before.\n\n Dear is the spot where Christians sleep,\n And sweet the strains their spirits pour;\n O, why should we in anguish weep?\n They are not lost, but gone before.\n\n 2 Secure from every mortal care,\n By sin and sorrow vexed no more,\n Eternal happiness they share\n Who are not lost, but gone before.\n\n 3 To Zion's peaceful courts above\n In faith triumphant may we soar,\n Embracing, in the arms of love,\n The friends not lost, but gone before.\n\n 4 To Jordan's bank whene'er we come,\n And hear the swelling waters roar;\n Jesus! convey us safely home,\n To friends not lost, but gone before.\n\n\n1038 L. M.\n Them which sleep in Jesus.\n 1 Thess. 4:14.\n\n Asleep in Jesus! Blessed sleep\n From which none ever wakes to weep;\n A calm and undisturbed repose,\n Unbroken by the last of foes.\n\n 2 Asleep in Jesus! O how sweet\n To be for such a slumber meet!\n With holy confidence to sing,\n That death has lost its venomed sting.\n\n 3 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest,\n Whose waking is supremely blest:\n No fear, no woe, shall dim the hour\n That manifests the Saviour's power.\n\n 4 Asleep in Jesus! O for me\n May such a blissful refuge be:\n Securely shall my ashes lie,\n And wait the summons from on high.\n\n 5 Asleep in Jesus! time nor space\n Affects this precious hiding-place:\n On Indian plains, or Lapland snows,\n Believers find the same repose.\n\n 6 Asleep in Jesus! far from thee\n Thy kindred and their graves may be:\n But thine is still a blessed sleep,\n which none ever wake to weep.\n\n\n1039 L. M.\n Let me die the death of the righteous.\n Num. 23:10.\n\n How blest the righteous when he dies!\n When sinks a weary soul to rest!\n How mildly beam the closing eyes!\n How gently heaves the expiring breast!\n\n 2 So fades a summer cloud away;\n So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;\n So gently shuts the eye of day;\n So dies a wave along the shore.\n\n 3 A holy quiet reigns around,\n A calm which life nor death destroys;\n And nought disturbs that peace profound\n Which his unfettered soul enjoys.\n\n 4 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay,\n Light from its load the spirit flies,\n While heaven and earth combine to say,\n \"How blest the righteous when he dies!\"\n\n\n1040 L. M.\n Death of an infant.\n\n As the sweet flower that scents the morn,\n But withers in the rising day--\n Thus lovely seemed the infant's dawn;\n Thus swiftly fled his life away!\n\n 2 Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,\n Death timely came with friendly care;\n The opening bud to heaven conveyed,\n And bade it bloom for ever there.\n\n 3 He died to sin, and all its woes,\n But for a moment felt the rod--\n On love's triumphant wing he rose,\n To rest for ever with his God!\n\n\n1041 L. M.\n Death of an infant.\n\n So fades the lovely, blooming flower,\n Frail, smiling solace of an hour;\n So soon our transient comforts fly,\n And pleasure only blooms to die.\n\n 2 Is there no kind, no healing art,\n To soothe the anguish of the heart?\n Spirit of grace, be ever nigh;\n Thy comforts are not made to die.\n\n 3 Let gentle patience smile on pain,\n Till dying hope revives again;\n Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye,\n And faith points upward to the sky.\n\n\n1042 L. M.\n The early dead.\n\n How blest are they whose transient years\n Pass like an evening meteor's flight;\n Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears:\n Whose course is short, unclouded, bright.\n\n 2 O, cheerless were our lengthened way:\n But heaven's own light dispels the gloom,\n Streams downward from eternal day,\n And casts a glory round the tomb.\n\n 3 O, stay thy tears; the blest above\n Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth,\n And sung a song of joy and love;\n Then why should anguish reign on earth?\n\n\n1043 L. M.\n Death is the gate of endless joy.\n\n Why should we start and fear to die?\n What timorous worms we mortals are!\n Death is the gate of endless joy,\n And yet we dread to enter there.\n\n 2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife,\n Fright our approaching souls away;\n Still we shrink back again to life,\n Fond of our prison and our clay.\n\n 3 O if my Lord would come and meet,\n My soul would stretch her wings in haste,\n Fly fearless through death's iron gate,\n Nor feel the terrors as she passed!\n\n 4 Jesus can make a dying bed\n Feel soft as downy pillows are,\n While on his breast I lean my head,\n And breathe my life out sweetly there.\n\n\n1044 L. M.\n The small and great are there.\n Job 3:19.\n\n The glories of our birth and state\n Are shadows, not substantial things;\n There is no armor against fate;\n Death lays his icy hands on kings.\n\n 2 Princes and magistrates must fall,\n And in the dust be equal made;\n The high and mighty with the small,\n Scepter and crown with scythe and spade.\n\n 3 The laurel withers on our brow;\n Then boast no more your mighty deeds;\n Upon death's purple altar now\n See where the victor victim bleeds!\n\n\n1045 L. M.\n That I may know how frail I am.\n Psalm 39:4.\n\n Almighty Maker of my frame,\n Teach me the measure of my days;\n Teach me to know how frail I am,\n And spend the remnant to thy praise.\n\n 2 My days are shorter than a span;\n A little point my life appears;\n How frail at best is dying man!\n How vain are all his hopes and fears!\n\n 3 Vain his ambition, noise, and show,\n Vain are the cares which rack his mind;\n He heaps up treasures mixed with woe,\n And dies, and leaves them all behind.\n\n 4 O be a nobler portion mine;\n My God, I bow before thy throne;\n Earth's fleeting treasures I resign,\n And fix my hope on thee alone.\n\n\n1046 L. M.\n Make me to know mine end.\n Psalm 39:4.\n\n O God, thy grace and blessing give\n To us, who on thy name attend,\n That we this mortal life may live\n Regardful of our journey's end.\n\n 2 Teach us to know that Jesus died,\n And rose again, our souls to save;\n Teach us to take him as our Guide,\n Our Help from childhood to the grave.\n\n 3 Then shall not death with terror come,\n But welcome as a bidden guest--\n The herald of a better home,\n The messenger of peace and rest.\n\n 4 And, when the awful signs appear\n Of judgment, and the throne above,\n Our hearts still fixed, we shall not fear,\n God is our trust; and God is Love.\n\n\n1047 L. M.\n I will fear no evil.\n Psalm 23:4.\n\n Though I walk through the gloomy vale,\n Where death and all its terrors are,\n My heart and hope shall never fail,\n For God my Shepherd's with me there.\n\n 2 Amid the darkness and the deeps,\n Thou art my comfort, thou my stay;\n Thy staff supports my feeble steps,\n Thy rod directs my doubtful way.\n\n\n1048 L. M.\n On the death of an infant.\n\n O mourner! who with tender love,\n Hast wept beside some infant grave,\n Hast thou not sought a Friend above,\n Who died thy little one to save?\n\n 2 Then lift thy weary, weeping eye\n Above the waves that round thee dwell;\n Is not thy darling safe on high?\n Canst thou not whisper--It is well?\n\n 3 Yes, it is well--though never more\n His infant form to earth be given;\n He rests where sin and grief are o'er,\n And thou shalt meet thy child in heaven.\n\n\n1049 P. M.\n Blossom of being; seen and gone.\n\n No bitter tears for thee be shed,\n Blossom of being! seen and gone!\n With flowers alone we strew thy bed,\n O blest departed one!\n Whose all of life, a rosy ray,\n Blushed into dawn, and passed away.\n\n 2 Yes! thou art fled, ere guilt had power\n To stain thy cherub-soul and form,\n Closed is the soft ephemeral flower\n That never felt a storm!\n The sunbeam's smile, the zephyr's breath,\n All that it knew from birth to death.\n\n 3 Oh! hadst thou still on earth remained,\n Vision of beauty! fair as brief!\n How soon thy brightness had been stained\n With passion or with grief!\n Now, not a sullying breath can rise,\n To dim thy glory in the skies.\n\n\n1050 L. M.\n Unvail thy bosom, faithful tomb.\n\n Unvail thy bosom, faithful tomb;\n Take this new treasure to thy trust,\n And give these sacred relics room\n To slumber in the silent dust.\n\n 2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear,\n Invade thy bounds; no mortal woes\n Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,\n While angels watch the soft repose.\n\n 3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son\n Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed:\n Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne\n The morning break, and pierce the shade.\n\n 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn;\n Attend, O earth, his sovereign word;\n Restore thy trust; a glorious form\n Shall then arise to meet the Lord.\n\n\n1051 L. M.\n I am now ready to be offered.\n 2 Tim. 4:6.\n\n The hour of my departure's come;\n I hear the voice that calls me home;\n At last, O Lord! let troubles cease,\n And let thy servant die in peace.\n\n 2 The race appointed I have run,\n The combat's o'er, the prize is won;\n And now my witness is on high,\n And now my record's in the sky.\n\n 3 Not in mine innocence I trust;\n I bow before thee in the dust;\n And through my Saviour's blood alone\n I look for mercy at thy throne.\n\n 4 I come, I come at thy command;\n I give my spirit to thy hand;\n Stretch forth thine everlasting arms,\n And shield me in the last alarms.\n\n\n1052 C. M.\n As a tale that is told.\n Psalm 90:9.\n\n How short and hasty is our life:\n How vast our soul's affairs!\n Yet foolish mortals vainly strive\n To lavish out their years.\n\n 2 Our days run thoughtlessly along,\n Without a moment's stay;\n We, like a story, or a song,\n Do pass our lives away.\n\n 3 God from on high invites us home;\n But we march heedless on,\n And, ever hastening to the tomb,\n Stoop downward as we run.\n\n 4 Draw us, O God, with thy rich grace,\n And lift our thoughts on high,\n That we may end this mortal race,\n And see salvation nigh.\n\n\n1053 C. M.\n A desire to depart.\n Phil. 1:23.\n\n Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell,\n With all your feeble light:\n Farewell, thou ever-changing moon,\n Pale empress of the night.\n\n 2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,\n In brighter flames arrayed;\n My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere,\n No more demands thine aid.\n\n 3 Ye stars are but the shining dust\n Of my divine abode,\n The pavement of those heavenly courts\n Where I shall reign with God.\n\n 4 The Father of eternal light\n Shall there his beams display,\n Nor shall one moment's darkness mix\n With that unvaried day.\n\n 5 No more the drops of piercing grief\n Shall swell into mine eyes;\n Nor the meridian sun decline\n Amid those brighter skies.\n\n 6 There all the millions of his saints\n Shall in one song unite,\n And each the bliss of all shall view\n With infinite delight.\n\n\n1054 C. M.\n And Moses went up to the top of Pisgah.\n Deut. 34:1.\n\n Death can not make our souls afraid,\n If God be with us there;\n We may walk through its darkest shade,\n And never yield to fear.\n\n 2 I could renounce my all below,\n If my Redeemer bid;\n And run, if I were called to go,\n And die as Moses did.\n\n 3 Might I but climb to Pisgah's top,\n And view the promised land,\n My flesh itself would long to drop,\n And welcome the command.\n\n 4 Clasped in my heavenly Father's arms,\n I would forget my breath,\n And lose my life among the charms\n Of so divine a death.\n\n\n1055 C. M.\n What is your life?\n\n Life is a span--a fleeting hour;\n How soon the vapor flies!\n Man is a tender, transient flower,\n That, even in blooming, dies.\n\n 2 The once-loved form, now cold and dead,\n Each mournful thought employs;\n And nature weeps her comforts fled,\n And withered all her joys.\n\n 3 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,\n When what we now deplore\n Shall rise in full, immortal prime,\n And bloom to fade no more.\n\n 4 Cease then, fond nature, cease thy tears,\n Religion points on high;\n There everlasting spring appears,\n And joys that can not die.\n\n\n1056 C. M.\n Weep not.\n\n Dear as thou wast, and justly dear\n We would not weep for thee:\n One thought shall check the starting tear,\n It is that thou art free.\n\n 2 And thus shall faith's consoling power\n The tears of love restrain;\n O, who that saw thy parting hour,\n Could wish thee here again!\n\n 3 Gently the passing spirit fled,\n Sustained by grace divine;\n O, may such grace on us be shed,\n And make our end like thine!\n\n\n1057 C. M.\n Why do we mourn departing friends.\n\n Why do we mourn departing friends,\n Or shake at death's alarms?\n 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends\n To call them to his arms.\n\n 2 Are we not tending upward, too,\n As fast as time can move?\n Nor would we wish the time more slow\n To keep us from our Love.\n\n 3 Why should we tremble to convey\n Their bodies to the tomb?\n 'Twas there the flesh of Jesus lay,\n Amid its silent gloom.\n\n 4 The graves of all the saints he blest,\n And softened every bed;\n Where should the dying members rest,\n But with their dying Head?\n\n 5 Thence he arose, ascending high,\n And showed our feet the way;\n Up to the Lord our souls shall fly,\n At the great rising day.\n\n 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,\n And bid our kindred rise:\n Awake, ye nations under ground;\n Ye saints, ascend the skies.\n\n\n1058 C. M.\n I will cause the sun to go down at noon.\n Amos 8:9.\n\n When blooming youth is snatched away\n By death's resistless hand,\n Our hearts the mournful tribute pay,\n Which pity must demand.\n\n 2 While pity prompts the rising sigh,\n O may this truth, impressed\n With awful power, \"I too must die,\"\n Sink deep in every breast.\n\n 3 Let this vain world engage no more;\n Behold the opening tomb:\n It bids us seize the present hour:\n To-morrow death may come.\n\n 4 O let us fly--to Jesus fly,\n Whose powerful arm can save;\n Then shall our hopes ascend on high,\n And triumph o'er the grave.\n\n 5 Great God thy sovereign grace impart,\n With cleansing, healing power;\n This only can prepare the heart\n For death's approaching hour.\n\n\n1059 C. M.\n Sorrow not.\n 1 Thess. 4:13.\n\n Not for the pious dead we weep;\n Their sorrows now are o'er;\n The sea is calm, the tempest past,\n On that eternal shore.\n\n 2 Their peace is sealed, their rest is sure,\n Within that better home:\n Awhile we weep and linger here,\n Then follow to the tomb.\n\n\n1060 C. M.\n John 14.\n\n Let not your hearts with anxious thoughts\n Be troubled or dismayed:\n But trust in God your Father's care,\n And trust my gracious aid.\n\n 2 I to my Father's house return;\n There numerous mansions stand,\n And glory manifold abounds\n Through all the happy land.\n\n 3 I go your entrance to secure,\n And your abode prepare;\n Regions unknown are safe to you,\n When I, your Friend, am there.\n\n 4 Thence shall I come when ages close,\n To take you home with me;\n There shall we meet to part no more,\n Where sorrows ne'er shall be.\n\n 5 I am the Way, the Truth, the Life;\n No son of human race,\n But such as I conduct and guide,\n Shall see my Father's face.\n\n\n1061 C. P. M.\n They desire a better country.\n Heb. 11:16.\n\n How happy is the pilgrim's lot!\n How free from every anxious thought,\n From worldly hope and fear!\n Confined to neither court nor cell,\n His soul disdains on earth to dwell--\n He only sojourns here.\n\n 2 This happiness in part is mine,\n Already saved from low design,\n From every creature-love;\n Blest with the scorn of finite good,\n My soul is lightened of its load,\n And seeks the things above.\n\n 3 There is my house and portion fair;\n My treasure and my heart are there,\n And my abiding home;\n For me my elder brethren stay,\n And angels beckon me away,\n And Jesus bids me come.\n\n 4 I come, thy servant, Lord, replies;\n I come to meet thee in the skies,\n And claim my heavenly rest!\n Soon will the pilgrim's journey end;\n Then, O my Saviour, Brother, Friend,\n Receive me to thy breast!\n\n\n1062 C. M.\n Death of a child.\n\n She was the music of our home,\n A day that knew no night,\n The fragrance of our garden bower,\n A thing all smiles and light.\n\n 2 Above the couch we bent and prayed\n In the half-lighted room,\n As the bright hues of infant life\n Sank slowly into gloom.\n\n 3 The form remained; but there was now\n No soul our love to share;\n Farewell, with weeping hearts, we said,\n Child of our love and care.\n\n 4 But years are moving quickly past,\n And time will soon be o'er;\n Death shall be swallowed up of life\n On the immortal shore.\n\n\n1063 C. M.\n Victory over death.\n 1 Cor. 15:55.\n\n O for an overcoming faith\n To cheer my dying hours,\n To triumph o'er the monster death,\n And all his frightful powers.\n\n 2 Joyful, with all the strength I have,\n My quivering lips shall sing,\n Where is thy boasted victory, grave?\n And where the monster's sting?\n\n 3 If sin be pardoned, I'm secure--\n Death has no sting beside;\n The law gives sin its damning power,\n But Christ my ransom died.\n\n 4 Now to the God of victory\n Immortal thanks be paid,\n Who makes us conquerors while we die,\n Through Christ our living Head.\n\n\n1064 C. M.\n Remember them, etc.\n Heb. 13:7.\n\n What though the arm of conquering death\n Does God's own house invade;\n What though our teacher and our friend\n Is numbered with the dead;--\n\n 2 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,\n The aged and the young;\n The watchful eye in darkness closed,\n And dumb the instructive tongue?\n\n 3 The eternal Shepherd still survives,\n His teachings to impart:\n Lord, be our Leader and our Guide,\n And rule and keep our heart.\n\n 4 Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives,\n We have a boundless store,\n And shall be fed with what he gives,\n Who lives for evermore.\n\n\n1065 S. M.\n Sighing for rest.\n\n O where shall rest be found--\n Rest for the weary soul?\n 'Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound,\n Or pierce to either pole.\n\n 2 The world can never give\n The bliss for which we sigh:\n 'Tis not the whole of life to live,\n Nor all of death to die.\n\n 3 Beyond this vale of tears\n There is a life above,\n Unmeasured by the flight of years;\n And all that life is love.\n\n 4 There is a death whose pang\n Outlasts the fleeting breath:\n O what eternal horrors hang\n Around the second death!\n\n 5 Lord God of truth and grace,\n Teach us that death to shun,\n Lest we be banished from thy face,\n And evermore undone.\n\n\n1066 S. M.\n Whoso believeth in me shall never die.\n John 11:26.\n\n It is not death to die--\n To leave this weary road,\n And, 'mid the brotherhood on high,\n To be at home with God.\n\n 2 It is not death to close\n The eye long dimmed by tears,\n And wake, in glorious repose,\n To spend eternal years.\n\n 3 It is not death to bear\n The wrench that sets us free\n From dungeon chain--to breathe the air\n Of boundless liberty.\n\n 4 It is not death to fling\n Aside this sinful dust,\n And rise, on strong, exulting wing,\n To live among the just.\n\n 5 Jesus, thou Prince of life!\n Thy chosen can not die;\n Like thee, they conquer in the strife,\n To reign with thee on high.\n\n\n1067 S. M.\n Your fathers, where are they?\n Zech. 1:5.\n\n Our fathers! where are they,\n With all they called their own?\n Their joys and griefs, their hopes and cares,\n Their wealth and honor, gone!\n\n 2 But joy or grief succeeds,\n Beyond our mortal thought,\n While still the remnant of their dust\n Lies in the grave forgot.\n\n 3 God of our fathers, hear,\n Thou everlasting Friend,\n While we, as on life's utmost verge,\n Our souls to thee commend.\n\n\n1068 S. M.\n Far from my heavenly home.\n\n Far from my heavenly home,\n Far from my Father's breast,\n Fainting, I cry, Blest Saviour! come,\n And speed me to my rest.\n\n 2 My spirit homeward turns,\n And fain would thither flee;\n My heart, O Zion! droops and yearns,\n When I remember thee.\n\n 3 To thee, to thee, I press,\n A dark and toilsome road;\n When shall I pass the wilderness\n And reach the saints' abode.\n\n 4 God of my life! be near;\n On thee my hopes I cast;\n O guide me through the desert here,\n And bring me home at last!\n\n\n1069 S. M.\n Go to thy rest, fair child.\n\n Go to thy rest, fair child!\n Go to thy dreamless bed,\n While yet so gentle, undefiled,\n With blessings on thy head.\n\n 2 Fresh roses in thy hand,\n Buds on thy pillow laid,\n Haste from this dark and fearful land,\n Where flowers so quickly fade.\n\n 3 Before thy heart had learned\n In waywardness to stray;\n Before thy feet had ever turned\n The dark and downward way;\n\n 4 Ere sin had seared the breast,\n Or sorrow woke the tear;\n Rise to thy throne of changeless rest,\n In yon celestial sphere!\n\n 5 Because thy smile was fair,\n Thy lip and eye so bright,\n Because thy loving cradle care\n Was such a dear delight;\n\n 6 Shall love, with weak embrace,\n Thy upward wing detain?\n No! gentle angel, seek thy place\n Amid the cherub train.\n\n\n1070 S. M.\n At midnight there was a cry made.\n Matt. 25:6.\n\n Servant of God, well done!\n Rest from thy loved employ;\n The battle fought, the victory won,\n Enter thy Master's joy.\n\n 2 The voice at midnight came;\n He started up to hear;\n A mortal arrow pierced his frame,\n He fell, but felt no fear.\n\n 3 Tranquil amid alarms,\n It found him on the field,\n A veteran slumbering on his arms,\n Beneath his red-cross shield.\n\n 4 At midnight came the cry,\n \"To meet thy God, prepare!\"\n He woke--and caught his Captain's eye;\n Then, strong in faith and prayer,\n\n 5 His spirit, with a bound,\n Left its encumbering clay;\n His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,\n A darkened ruin lay.\n\n 6 The pains of death are past,\n Labor and sorrow cease;\n And life's long warfare, closed at last,\n His soul is found in peace.\n\n\n1071 7s, double.\n The valley of the shadow of death.\n Psalm 23:4.\n\n Though I walk the downward shade,\n Deepening through the vail of death,\n Yet I will not be afraid,\n But, with my departing breath,\n I will glory in my God,\n In my Saviour I will trust,\n Strengthened by his staff and rod,\n While this body falls to dust.\n\n 2 Soon on wings, on wings of love,\n My transported soul shall rise,\n Like the home-returning dove,\n Vanishing through boundless skies:\n Then, where death shall be no more,\n Sin nor suffering e'er molest,\n All my days of mourning o'er,\n In his presence I shall rest.\n\n\n1072 7s, double.\n The spirit shall return to, etc.\n Eccl. 12:7.\n\n Deathless spirit, now arise!\n Soar, thou native of the skies!\n Pearl of price, by Jesus bought,\n To his glorious likeness wrought,\n Go, to shine before his throne,\n Deck his mediatorial crown;\n Go, his triumph to adorn;\n Made for God, to God return.\n\n 2 Lo! he beckons from on high!\n Fearless to his presence fly;\n Thine the merit of his blood,\n Thine the righteousness of God!\n Angels, joyful to attend,\n Hovering round thy pillow bend,\n Wait, to catch the signal given,\n And escort thee quick to heaven.\n\n 3 Is thy earthly house distressed,\n Willing to retain its guest?\n 'Tis not thou, but it, must die--\n Fly, celestial tenant, fly!\n Burst thy shackles, drop thy clay,\n Sweetly breathe thyself away,\n Singing, to thy crown remove,\n Swift of wing, and fired with love.\n\n\n1073 C. M. D.\n A soldier of renown.\n\n Fallen--on Zion's battle-field,\n A soldier of renown,\n Armed in the panoply of God,\n In conflict cloven down!\n His helmet on his armor bright,\n His cheek unblanched with fear--\n While round his head there gleamed a light,\n His dying hour to cheer.\n\n 2 Fallen--while cheering with his voice\n The sacramental host,\n With banners floating on the air--\n Death found him at his post;\n In life's high prime the warfare closed,\n But not ingloriously;\n He fell beyond the outer wall,\n And shouted, victory!\n\n [3 Fallen--a holy man of God,\n An Israelite indeed,\n A standard bearer of the cross,\n Mighty in word and deed--\n A master spirit of the age,\n A bright and burning light,\n Whose beams across the firmament\n Scattered the clouds of night.]\n\n 4 Fallen--as sets the sun at eve,\n To rise in splendor where\n His kindred luminaries shine,\n Their heaven of bliss to share;\n Beyond the stormy battle-field\n He reigns in triumph now,\n Sweeping a harp of wondrous song,\n With glory on his brow!\n\n\n1074 8s & 7s.\n Suffer little children to come unto me.\n Matt. 19:14.\n\n They are going--only going--\n Jesus called them long ago;\n All the wintery time they're passing,\n Softly as the falling snow.\n When the violets in the spring-time\n Catch the azure of the sky,\n They are carried out to slumber\n Sweetly where the violets lie.\n\n 2 They are going--only going--\n When with summer earth is dressed,\n In their cold hands holding roses\n Folded to each silent breast;\n When the autumn hangs red banners\n Out above the harvest sheaves,\n They are going--ever going--\n Thick and fast, like falling leaves.\n\n 3 All along the mighty ages,\n All adown the solemn time,\n They have taken up their homeward\n March to that serener clime,\n Where the watching, waiting angels\n Lead them from the shadow dim,\n To the brightness of his presence\n Who has called them unto him.\n\n 4 They are going--only going--\n Out of pain and into bliss--\n Out of sad and sinful weakness\n Into perfect holiness.\n Snowy brows--no care shall shade them;\n Bright eyes--tears shall never dim;\n Rosy lips--no time shall fade them:\n Jesus called them unto him.\n\n 5 Little hearts for ever stainless--\n Little hands as pure as they--\n Little feet by angels guided,\n Never a forbidden way!\n They are going--ever going--\n Leaving many a lonely spot;\n But 'tis Jesus who has called them--\n Suffer and forbid them not.\n\n\n1075 8s & 7s.\n Homeward.\n\n Dropping down the troubled river\n To the tranquil, tranquil shore,\n Where the sweet light shineth ever,\n And the sun goes down no more.\n\n 2 Dropping down the winding river\n To the wide and welcome sea,\n Where no tempest wrecketh ever,\n Where the sky is fair and free.\n\n 3 Dropping down the rapid river,\n To the dear and deathless land,\n Where the living live for ever\n At the Father's own right hand.\n\n\n1076 8s & 7s.\n Sister, thou wast mild and lovely.\n\n Sister, thou wast mild and lovely,\n Gentle as the summer breeze,\n Pleasant as the air of evening,\n When it floats among the trees.\n\n 2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber--\n Peaceful in the grave so low:\n Thou no more wilt join our number;\n Thou no more our songs shalt know.\n\n 3 Dearest sister, thou hast left us;\n Here thy loss we deeply feel;\n But 'tis God that hath bereft us:\n He can all our sorrows heal.\n\n 4 Yet again we hope to meet thee,\n When the day of life is fled,\n Then in heaven with joy to greet thee,\n Where no farewell tear is shed.\n\n\n1077 8s & 7s.\n Blessed are the dead, etc.\n Rev. 14:13.\n\n Happy soul! thy days are ended,\n All thy mourning days below;\n Go, by angel guards attended,\n To the sight of Jesus go!\n Waiting to receive thy spirit,\n Lo! the Saviour stands above;\n Shows the purchase of his merit,\n Reaches out the crown of love.\n\n 2 Struggling through thy latest passion\n To thy dear Redeemer's breast,\n To his uttermost salvation,\n To his everlasting rest;\n For the joy he sets before thee,\n Bear thy transitory pain;\n Die, to live a life of glory;\n Suffer, with thy Lord to reign.\n\n\n1078 P. M.\n What is your life? It is even a vapor.\n James 4:14.\n\n What is life? 'tis but a vapor,\n Soon it vanishes away:\n Life is but a dying taper--\n O, my soul, why wish to stay!\n Why not spread thy wings and fly\n Straight to yonder world of joy!\n\n 2 See that glory, how resplendent!\n Brighter far than fancy paints;\n There, in majesty transcendent,\n Jesus reigns the King of saints,\n Why not spread thy wings and fly\n Straight to yonder world of joy!\n\n 3 Joyful crowds his throne surrounding,\n Sing with rapture of his love;\n Through the heavens his praise resounding,\n Filling all the courts above.\n Why not spread thy wings and fly\n Straight to yonder world of joy!\n\n 4 Go, and share his people's glory,\n 'Midst the ransomed crowd appear;\n Thine a joyful, wondrous story,\n One that angels love to hear.\n Why not spread thy wings and fly\n Straight to yonder world of joy!\n\n\n1079 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Death of an aged pilgrim.\n\n Tossed no more on life's rough billow,\n All the storms of sorrow fled,\n Death hath found a quiet pillow\n For the aged Christian's head,\n Peaceful slumbers\n Guarding now his lowly bed.\n\n 2 O, may we be reunited\n To the spirits of the just,\n Leaving all that sin has blighted\n With corruption, in the dust;\n Hear us, Jesus,\n Thou our Lord, our Life, our Trust.\n\n\n1080 7s & 4s.\n Prayer for support in death.\n\n When the vale of death appears,\n Faint and cold this mortal clay,\n Blest Redeemer, soothe my fears,\n Light me through the gloomy way;\n Break the shadows,\n Usher in eternal day.\n\n 2 Upward from this dying state\n Bid my waiting soul aspire;\n Open thou the crystal gate;\n To thy praise attune my lyre:\n Then, triumphant,\n I will join the immortal choir.\n\n\n1081 7s & 6s.\n Time is winging us away.\n\n Time is winging us away\n To our eternal home;\n Life is but a winter's day--\n A journey to the tomb;\n Youth and vigor soon will flee;\n Blooming beauty lose its charms;\n All that's mortal soon shall be\n Inclosed in death's cold arms.\n\n 2 Time is winging us away\n To our eternal home;\n Life is but a winter's day--\n A journey to the tomb!\n But the Christian shall enjoy\n Health and beauty soon above,\n Far beyond the world's alloy,\n Secure in Jesus' love.\n\n\n1082 10s.\n His eye was not dim, etc.\n Deut. 34:7.\n\n Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime,\n In full activity of zeal and power;\n A Christian can not die before his time;\n The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour.\n\n 2 Go to the grave: at noon from labor cease;\n Rest on thy sheaves; the harvest-task is done;\n Come from the heat of battle, and in peace,\n Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won.\n\n 3 Go to the grave; for thee thy Saviour lay\n In death's embrace, ere he arose on high;\n And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,\n Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.\n\n 4 Go to the grave--no; take thy seat above;\n Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord,\n Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love,\n And open vision for the written word.\n\n\n1083 8s & 9s.\n Death of a missionary.\n\n Weep not for the saint that ascends\n To partake of the joys of the sky,\n Weep not for the seraph that bends\n With the worshiping chorus on high.\n\n 2 Weep not for the spirit now crowned\n With the garland to martyrdom given,\n O weep not for him; he has found\n His reward and his refuge in heaven.\n\n 3 But weep for their sorrows, who stand\n And lament o'er the dead by his grave--\n Who sigh when they muse on the land\n Of their home, far away o'er the wave.\n\n 4 And weep for the nations that dwell\n Where the light of the truth never shone,\n Where anthems of praise never swell,\n And the love of the Lamb is unknown.\n\n 5 Weep not for the saint that ascends\n To partake of the joys of the sky;\n Weep not for the seraph that bends\n With the worshiping chorus on high:\n\n 6 But weep for the mourners who stand\n By the grave of their brother, in tears,\n And weep for the people whose land\n Still must wait till the day-spring appears.\n\n\n1084 8s & 3s.\n All is well.\n\n What's this that steals upon my frame?\n Is it death?\n That soon will quench this vital flame?\n Is it death?\n If this be death, I soon shall be\n From every pain and sorrow free,\n I shall my Lord in glory see--\n All is well!\n\n 2 Weep not, my friends, weep not for me,\n All is well!\n My sins are pardoned, I am free;\n All is well.\n There's not a cloud that doth arise,\n To hide my Saviour from my eyes;\n I soon shall mount the upper skies--\n All is well.\n\n 3 Tune, tune your harps, ye saints in glory,\n All is well;\n I will rehearse the pleasing story,\n All is well.\n Bright angels have from glory come,\n They're round my bed, they're in my room,\n They wait to waft my spirit home--\n All is well.\n\n 4 Hark, hark, my Lord and Master calls me,\n All is well;\n I soon shall see his face in glory,\n All is well.\n Farewell, dear friends, adieu, adieu,\n I can no longer stay with you--\n My glittering crown appears in view;\n All is well.\n\n 5 Hail, hail, all hail, ye blood-washed throng,\n Saved by grace;\n I've come to join your rapturous song,\n Saved by grace.\n All, all is peace and joy divine,\n All heaven and glory now are mine;\n O, hallelujah to the Lamb!\n All is well.\n\n\n1085 P. M.\n Present with the Lord.\n 2 Cor. 5:8.\n\n O think that, while you're weeping here,\n His hand a golden harp is stringing;\n And with a voice serene and clear,\n His ransomed soul, without a tear,\n His Saviour's praise is singing!\n\n 2 And think that all his pains are fled,\n His toils and sorrows closed for ever;\n While he, whose blood for man was shed,\n Has placed upon his servant's head\n A crown that fadeth never!\n\n 3 For thus, while round your lowly bier\n Surviving friends are sadly bending,\n Your souls, like his, to Jesus dear,\n Shall wing their flight to yonder sphere,\n Faith lightest pinions lending.\n\n 4 And thus, when to the silent tomb,\n Your lifeless dust like his is given,\n Like faith shall whisper, 'midst the gloom,\n That yet again in faithful bloom,\n That dust shall smile in heaven!\n\n\n1086 8s & 4s.\n There remaineth a rest.\n Heb. 4:9.\n\n There is a calm for those who weep,\n A rest for weary pilgrims found;\n They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,\n Low in the ground.\n\n 2 The storm that racks the wintery sky\n No more disturbs their deep repose,\n Than summer evening's latest sigh,\n That shuts the rose.\n\n 3 Thou traveler in this vale of tears,\n To realms of everlasting light,\n Through time's dark wilderness of years,\n Pursue thy flight.\n\n 4 Whate'er thy lot--whate'er thou be--\n Confess thy folly--kiss the rod;\n And in thy chastening sorrows see\n The hand of God.\n\n 5 Though long of winds and waves the sport,\n Condemned in wretchedness to roam,\n Thou soon shalt reach a sheltering port,\n A quiet home.\n\n\n1087 6s & 4s.\n Forsake me not, etc.\n Psalm 71:9.\n\n Lowly and solemn be\n Thy children's cry to thee,\n Father divine;\n A hymn of suppliant breath,\n Owning that life and death\n Alike are thine.\n\n 2 O Father, in that hour,\n When earthly help and power\n Are all in vain,\n When spears, and shield, and crown,\n In faintness are cast down,\n Do thou sustain.\n\n 3 By him who bowed to take\n The death-cup for our sake,\n The thorn, the rod--\n From whom the last dismay\n Was not to pass away--\n Aid us, O God.\n\n 4 Trembling beside the grave,\n We call on thee to save,\n Father divine:\n Hear, hear our suppliant breath;\n Keep us, in life and death,\n Thine, only thine.\n\n\n1088 7s & 6s.\n All the rivers run into the sea.\n Eccl. 1:7.\n\n As flows the rapid river,\n With channel broad and free,\n Its waters rippling ever,\n And hastening to the sea;\n So life is onward flowing,\n And days of offered peace,\n And man is swiftly going\n Where calls of mercy cease.\n\n 2 As moons are ever waning,\n As hastes the sun away,\n As stormy winds, complaining,\n Bring on the wintery day:\n So fast the night comes o'er us--\n The darkness of the grave;\n The death is just before us;\n God takes the life he gave.\n\n 3 Say, hath thy heart its treasure\n Laid up in worlds above?\n And is it all thy pleasure\n Thy God to praise and love?\n Beware lest death's dark river\n Its billows o'er thee roll,\n And thou lament for ever\n The ruin of thy soul.\n\n\n1089 8s & 4s.\n As a dream, when one awaketh.\n Psalm 73:20.\n\n Alas! how poor and little worth\n Are all those glittering toys of earth\n That lure us here!\n Dreams of a sleep that death must break:\n Alas! before it bids us wake,\n They disappear.\n\n 2 Where is the strength that spurned decay,\n The step that rolled so light and gay,\n The heart's blithe tone?\n The strength is gone, the step is slow,\n And joy grows weariness and woe\n When age comes on.\n\n 3 Our birth is but a starting-place;\n Life is the running of the race,\n And death the goal:\n There all those glittering toys are brought;\n That path alone, of all unsought,\n Is found of all.\n\n 4 O, let the soul its slumbers break,\n Arouse its senses, and awake\n To see how soon\n Life, like its glories, glides away,\n And the stern footsteps of decay\n Come stealing on.\n\n\n1090 S. H. M.\n Friend after friend departs.\n\n Friend after friend departs;\n Who hath not lost a friend?\n There is no union here of hearts,\n That finds not here an end?\n Were this frail world our only rest,\n Living or dying, none were blest.\n\n 2 Beyond the flight of time,\n Beyond this vale of death,\n There surely is some blessed clime,\n Where life is not a breath,\n Nor life's affections transient fire,\n Whose sparks fly upward to expire,\n\n 3 There is a world above,\n Where parting is unknown;\n A whole eternity of love,\n Formed for the good alone;\n And faith beholds the dying here\n Translated to that happier sphere.\n\n 4 Thus star by star declines,\n Till all are passed away,\n As morning high and higher shines\n To pure and perfect day;\n Nor sink those stars in empty night;\n They hide themselves in heaven's own light.\n\n\n1091 8s & 4s.\n Weep not for me.\n\n When the spark of life is waning,\n Weep not for me;\n When the languid eye is streaming,\n Weep not for me;\n When the feeble pulse is ceasing,\n Start not at its swift decreasing,\n 'Tis the fettered soul's releasing,\n Weep not for me.\n\n 2 When the pangs of death assail me,\n Weep not for me;\n Christ is mine, he can not fail me,\n Weep not for me;\n Yes, though sin and doubt endeavor,\n From his love my soul to sever,\n Jesus is my strength for ever;\n Weep not for me.\n\n\n1092 7s & 6s.\n Mortality swallowed up of life.\n 2 Cor. 5:4.\n\n No, no, it is not dying\n To go unto our God,\n This gloomy earth forsaking,\n Our journey homeward taking\n Along the starry road.\n\n 2 No, no, it is not dying\n Heaven's citizen to be,\n A crown immortal wearing,\n And rest unbroken sharing,\n From care and conflict free.\n\n 3 No, no, it is not dying\n The Shepherd's voice to know;\n His sheep he ever leadeth,\n His peaceful flock he feedeth,\n Where living pastures grow.\n\n 4 No, no, it is not dying\n To wear a heavenly crown,\n Among God's people dwelling,\n The glorious triumph swelling,\n Of him whose sway we own.\n\n 5 O no, this is not dying,\n Thou Saviour of mankind;\n There, streams of love are flowing,\n No hindrance ever knowing;\n Here, only drops we find.\n\n\n1093 10s, 6s, & 4s.\n The burial of the dead.\n\n Thou God of love! beneath thy sheltering wings\n We leave our holy dead,\n To rest in hope! From this world's sufferings\n Their souls have fled!\n\n 2 O! when our souls are burdened with the weight\n Of life, and all its woes,\n Let us remember them, and calmly wait\n For our life's close!\n\n\n1094 6s & 8s.\n Go to thy rest in peace.\n\n Go to thy rest in peace,\n And soft be thy repose;\n Thy toils are o'er, thy troubles cease;\n From earthly cares, in sweet release,\n Thine eyelids gently close.\n\n 2 Go to thy peaceful rest;\n For thee we need not weep,\n Since thou art now among the blest--\n No more by sin and sorrow pressed,\n But hushed in quiet sleep.\n\n 3 Go to thy rest; and while\n Thy absence we deplore,\n One thought our sorrow shall beguile;\n For soon, with a celestial smile,\n We meet to part no more.\n\n\n1095 11s.\n He died at his post.\n\n Away from his home and the friends of his youth,\n He hasted, the herald of mercy and truth,\n For the love of his Lord, and to seek for the lost:\n Soon, alas! was his fall--but he died at his post.\n\n 2 The stranger's eye wept, that, in life's brightest bloom,\n One gifted so highly should sink to the tomb;\n For in ardor he led in the van of the host,\n And he fell like a soldier--he died at his post.\n\n 3 He wept not himself that his warfare was done--\n The battle was fought, and the victory won;\n But he whispered of those whom his heart clung to most,\n \"Tell my brethren, for me, that I died at my post.\"\n\n 4 He asked not a stone to be sculptured with verse;\n He asked not that fame should his merits rehearse;\n But he asked as a boon, when he gave up the ghost,\n That his brethren might know that he died at his post.\n\n 5 Victorious his fall--for he rose as he fell,\n With Jesus, his Master, in glory to dwell:\n He has passed o'er the stream, and has reached the bright coast,\n For he fell like a martyr--he died at his post.\n\n 6 And can we the words of his exit forget?\n O! no; they are fresh in our memory yet:\n An example so worthy shall never be lost,\n We will fall in the work--we will die at our post.\n\n\n1096 12s & 11s.\n Farewell to a friend departed.\n\n Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee,\n Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb:\n The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee,\n And the lamp of his love is thy guide thro' the gloom.\n\n 2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee,\n Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side;\n But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee,\n And sinners may hope, since the Saviour has died.\n\n 3 Thou art gone to the grave; and its mansion forsaking,\n Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long;\n But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking,\n And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's song.\n\n 4 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee;\n Since God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, thy Guide;\n He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee;\n And death has no sting, since the Saviour has died.\n\n\n1097 11s, peculiar.\n Heavenly prospect.\n\n Christian, the vision before thee is glorious,\n The earth shall allure thy tried spirit no more:\n Thou wast in the day of thy trial victorious,\n Secure now at last, thy temptations are o'er.\n\n 2 Hard was the strife, but the strong one in battle,\n Has been thy defender, and vanquished thy foes;\n And heaven stood by thee to help thee in trouble,\n And joyed when the sound of thy triumph arose.\n\n 3 High was the anthem those raptures revealing,\n Ten thousand celestials the chorus prolong;\n But louder the strains of the ransomed are pealing,\n And glory is swelling the conqueror's song.\n\n\n1098 11s & 12s.\n Vanity of vanities.\n Eccl. 12:8.\n\n Far, far o'er hill and dale, on the winds stealing,\n List to the tolling bell, mournfully pealing,\n Hark, hark, it seems to say, as melt those sounds away,\n So earthly joys decay, while new their feeling!\n\n 2 Now through the charmed air, on the winds stealing,\n List to the mourner's prayer, solemnly bending:\n Hark, hark, it seems to say, turn from those joys away,\n To those which ne'er decay, for life is ending.\n\n 3 So when our mortal ties death shall dissever,\n Lord, may we reach the skies where care comes never,\n And in eternal day, joining the angels' lay,\n To our Creator pay homage for ever.\n\n\n\n\n SECOND ADVENT.\n\n\n1099 C. M.\n Looking for the coming of the day of God.\n 2 Peter 3:12.\n\n Hope of our hearts, O Lord, appear,\n Thou glorious star of day!\n Shine forth, and chase the dreary night,\n With all our tears, away.\n\n 2 Strangers on earth, we wait for thee;\n O leave the Father's throne;\n Come with a shout of victory, Lord,\n And claim us as thine own.\n\n 3 O bid the bright archangel now\n The trump of God prepare,\n To call thy saints--the quick, the dead,\n To meet thee in the air.\n\n 4 No resting-place we seek on earth,\n No loveliness we see;\n Our eye is on the royal crown,\n Prepared for us and thee.\n\n 5 But, dearest Lord, however bright\n That crown of joy above,\n What is it to the brighter hope\n Of dwelling in thy love?\n\n 6 What to the joy, the deeper joy,\n Unmingled, pure and free,\n Of union with our living Head,\n Of fellowship with thee?\n\n 7 This joy e'en now on earth is ours;\n But only, Lord, above\n Our heart without a pang shall know\n The fullness of thy love.\n\n 8 There, near thy heart, upon the throne,\n Thy ransomed Bride shall see\n What grace was in the bleeding Lamb,\n Who died to make her free.\n\n\n1100 S. M. D.\n Come, Lord Jesus.\n Rev. 22:20.\n\n The Church has waited long\n Her absent Lord to see;\n And still in loneliness she waits,\n A friendless stranger she.\n Age after age has gone,\n Sun after sun has set,\n And still in weeds of widowhood\n She weeps a mourner yet.\n Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!\n\n 2 Saint after saint on earth\n Has lived, and loved, and died;\n And as they left us, one by one,\n We laid them side by side;\n We laid them down to sleep,\n But not in hope forlorn;\n We laid them but to ripen there,\n Till the last glorious morn.\n Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!\n\n 3 The whole creation groans,\n And waits to hear that voice\n That shall restore her comeliness,\n And make her wastes rejoice.\n Come, Lord, and wipe away\n The curse, the sin, the stain,\n And make this blighted world of ours\n Thine own fair world again.\n Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!\n\n\n1101 P. M.\n When the King of kings comes.\n\n When the King of kings comes,\n When the Lord of lords comes;\n We shall have a joyful day,\n When the King of kings comes:\n To see the nations broken down,\n And kingdoms once of great renown,\n And saints now suffering wear the crown,\n When the King of kings comes.\n\n 2 When the trump of God calls,\n When the last of foes falls;\n We shall have a joyful day,\n When the King of kings comes:\n To see the saints raised from the dead,\n And all together gathered,\n And made like to their glorious Head,\n When the King of kings comes.\n\n 3 When the foe's distress comes,\n When the church's rest comes;\n We shall have a joyful day,\n When the King of kings comes:\n To see the New Jerusalem,\n Its fullness and its matchless frame,\n Surpassing all report and fame,\n When the King of kings comes.\n\n 4 When the world's course is run,\n When the judgment is begun;\n We shall have a joyful day,\n When the King of kings comes:\n To see the sons of God well known,\n All spotless to their Father shown,\n And Jesus all his brethren own,\n When the King of kings comes.\n\n 5 When our Lord in clouds comes,\n When he with great power comes;\n We shall have a joyful day,\n When the King of kings comes:\n To see all things by him restored,\n And God himself alone adored,\n By all the saints with one accord,\n When the King of kings comes.\n\n\n1102 8s, 7s & 4s.\n O, come quickly.\n\n Saviour, haste: our souls are waiting\n For the long expected day,\n When, new heavens and earth creating,\n Thou shalt banish grief away;\n All the sorrow\n Caused by sin and Satan's sway.\n\n 2 Haste, O hasten thine appearing,\n Take thy mourning people home;\n 'Tis this hope our spirits cheering,\n While we in the desert roam,\n Makes thy people\n Strangers here till thou dost come.\n\n 3 Lord, how long shall the creation\n Groan and travail sore in pain,\n Waiting for its sure salvation\n When thou shalt in glory reign,\n And like Eden\n This sad earth shall bloom again?\n\n 4 Reign, O reign, almighty Saviour,\n Heaven and earth in one unite;\n Make it known, that in thy favor,\n There alone is life and light;\n When we see thee\n We shall have supreme delight.\n\n\n1103 8s, 7s & 4s.\n The Lord cometh, etc.\n Jude 14.\n\n Lo! he cometh--countless trumpets\n Wake to life the slumbering dead;\n 'Mid ten thousand saints and angels,\n See their great exalted Head:\n Hallelujah!--\n Welcome, welcome, Son of God!\n\n 2 Full of joyful expectation,\n Saints behold the Judge appear;\n Truth and justice go before him--\n Now the joyful sentence hear;\n Hallelujah!--\n Welcome, welcome, Judge divine!\n\n 3 \"Come, ye blessed of my Father!\n Enter into life and joy:\n Banish all your fears and sorrows;\n Endless praise be your employ;\"\n Hallelujah!--\n Welcome, welcome, to the skies.\n\n\n1104 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Behold he cometh with clouds.\n Rev. 1:7.\n\n Lo! he comes, with clouds descending,\n Once for favored sinners slain,\n Thousand thousand saints attending,\n Swell the triumph of his train!\n Hallelujah!\n Jesus now shall ever reign!\n\n 2 Every eye shall now behold him,\n Robed in dreadful majesty;\n Those who set at naught and sold him,\n Pierced and nailed him to the tree,\n Deeply wailing,\n Shall the true Messiah see.\n\n 3 Every island, sea, and mountain,\n Heaven and earth, shall flee away;\n All who hate him, must, confounded,\n Hear the trump proclaim the day,\n Come to judgment!\n Come to judgment! come away!\n\n 4 Now redemption, long expected,\n See in solemn pomp appear!\n All his saints by man rejected,\n Now shall meet him in the air,\n Hallelujah!\n See the day of God appear!\n\n 5 Lord, thy Bride says by thy Spirit,\n Hasten thou the general doom!\n Promised glory to inherit,\n Take thy weary pilgrims home!\n All creation\n Travails, groans, and bids thee come.\n\n 6 Yes--Amen! Let all adore thee,\n High on thy exalted throne;\n Saviour, take the power and glory,\n Claim the kingdoms for thy own!\n O! come quickly!\n Hallelujah, come, Lord, come!\n\n\n1105 P. M.\n That blessed hope.\n Titus 2:13.\n\n We wait for thee, all-glorious One;\n We look for thine appearing;\n We bear thy name, and on the throne,\n We see thy presence cheering.\n Faith even now\n Uplifts its brow,\n And sees the Lord descending,\n And with him bliss unending.\n\n 2 We wait for thee, through days forlorn,\n In patient self-denial;\n We know that thou our grief hast borne\n Upon thy cross of trial.\n And well may we\n Submit with thee\n To bear the cross and love it,\n Until thy hand remove it.\n\n 3 We wait for thee; already thou\n Hast all our heart's submission;\n And though the spirit sees thee now,\n We long for open vision;\n When ours shall be\n Sweet rest with thee,\n And pure, unfading pleasure,\n And life in endless measure.\n\n 4 We wait for thee in certain hope--\n The time will soon be over;\n With child-like longing we look up,\n The glory to discover.\n O, bliss! to share\n Thy triumph there,\n When home with joy and singing,\n The Lord his saints is bringing!\n\n\n\n\n THE RESURRECTION.\n\n\n1106 L. M.\n The day of the Lord will come.\n 2 Peter 3:10.\n\n The Lord will come, the earth shall quake,\n The hills their fixed seat forsake;\n And withering, from the vault of night,\n The stars withdraw their feeble light.\n\n 2 The Lord will come, but not the same\n As once in lowly form he came;\n A silent Lamb to slaughter led,\n The bruised, the suffering, and the dead.\n\n 3 The Lord will come--a dreadful form,\n With wreath of flame, and robe of storm,\n On cherub wings, and wings of wind,\n Anointed Judge of human kind.\n\n 4 While sinners in despair shall call,\n \"Rocks, hide us! mountains, on us fall!\"\n The saints, ascending from the tomb,\n Shall joyful sing--\"The Lord is come!\"\n\n\n1107 L. M.\n The great day of his wrath.\n Rev. 6:17.\n\n That day of wrath! that dreadful day,\n When heaven and earth shall pass away!\n What power shall be the sinner's stay?\n How shall he meet that dreadful day?\n\n 2 When shriveling like a parched scroll,\n The flaming heavens together roll;\n When, louder yet, and yet more dread,\n Swells the high trump that wakes the dead;\n\n 3 O, on that day, that dreadful day,\n When man to judgment wakes from clay,\n Be thou, O God, the sinner's stay,\n Though heaven and earth shall pass away.\n\n\n1108 C. M.\n Because I live, you shall live also.\n John 14:19.\n\n When, downward, to the darksome tomb,\n I thoughtful turn my eyes,\n Frail nature trembles at the gloom,\n And anxious fears arise.\n\n 2 Why shrinks my soul? in death's embrace\n Once Jesus captive slept;\n And angels hovering o'er the place,\n His lowly pillow kept.\n\n 3 Thus shall they guard my sleeping dust,\n And, as the Saviour rose,\n The grave again shall yield her trust,\n And end my deep repose.\n\n 4 My Lord, before to glory gone,\n Shall bid me come away;\n And calm and bright shall break the dawn\n Of heaven's eternal day.\n\n 5 Then let my faith each fear dispel,\n And gild with light the grave;\n To him my loftiest praises swell,\n Who died from death to save.\n\n\n1109 S. M.\n And to wait for His Son from heaven.\n 1 Thess. 1:10.\n\n In expectation sweet,\n We wait, and sing, and pray,\n Till Christ's triumphal car we meet,\n And see an endless day.\n\n 2 He comes! the Conqueror comes!\n Death falls beneath his sword;\n The joyful prisoners burst their tombs,\n And rise to meet their Lord.\n\n 3 The trumpet sounds--Awake!\n Ye dead, to judgment come!\n The pillars of creation shake,\n While hell receives her doom.\n\n 4 Thrice happy morn for those\n Who love the ways of peace;\n No night of sorrow e'er shall close\n Upon its perfect bliss.\n\n\n1110 S. M.\n Awake and sing, you that dwell in dust.\n Isaiah 26:19.\n\n Rest for the toiling hand,\n Rest for the anxious brow,\n Rest for the weary, way-worn feet,\n Rest from all labor now;\n\n 2 Soon shall the trump of God\n Give out the welcome sound\n That shakes thy silent chamber-walls,\n And breaks the turf-sealed ground.\n\n 3 Ye dwellers in the dust,\n Awake! come forth and sing;\n Sharp has your frost of winter been,\n But bright shall be your spring.\n\n 4 'Twas sown in weakness here;\n 'Twill then be raised in power:\n That which was sown an earthly seed,\n Shall rise a heavenly flower.\n\n\n1111 11s.\n At the last trump.\n 1 Cor. 15:52.\n\n The chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll in fire,\n As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire;\n Lo! self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud;\n And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bowed.\n\n 2 The glory! the glory! around him are poured\n Mighty hosts of the angels that wait on the Lord;\n And the glorified saints, and the martyrs are there,\n And there, all who the palm-wreaths of victory wear!\n\n 3 The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard;\n Lo! the depths of the stone-covered charnel are stirred!\n From the sea, from the earth, from the south, from the north,\n All the vast generations of men are come forth.\n\n 4 The judgment! the judgment! the thrones are all set,\n Where the lamb and the bright-crowned elders are met!\n There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,\n And the doom of eternity hangs on his word.\n\n\n1112 P. M.\n He will swallow up death in victory.\n Isaiah 25:8.\n\n Lo! the seal of death is breaking;\n Those who slept its sleep are waking;\n Heaven opes its portals fair!\n Hark! the harps of God are ringing;\n Hark! the seraph's hymn is flinging\n Music on immortal air.\n\n 2 There, no more at eve declining,\n Suns without a cloud are shining\n O'er the land of life and love;\n There the founts of life are flowing,\n Flowers unknown to time, are blowing\n In that radiant scene above.\n\n 3 There no sigh of memory swelleth;\n There no tear of misery welleth;\n Hearts will bleed or break no more;\n Past is all the cold world's scorning,\n Gone the night, and broke the morning,\n Over all the golden shore.\n\n\n1113 6s & 5s.\n For the trumpet shall sound.\n 1 Cor. 15:52.\n\n The last lovely morning,\n All blooming and fair,\n Is fast onward fleeting,\n And soon will appear.\n CHORUS.\n While the mighty, mighty, mighty trump\n Sounds, Come, come away,\n O, let us be ready to hail the glad day.\n\n 2 And when that bright morning\n In splendor shall dawn,\n Our tears shall be ended,\n Our sorrows all gone.\n\n 3 The Bridegroom from glory\n To earth shall descend,\n Ten thousand bright angels\n Around him attend.\n\n 4 The grave shall be opened,\n The dead shall arise,\n And with the Redeemer\n Mount up to the skies.\n\n 5 The saints then immortal\n In glory shall reign,\n The Bride with the Bridegroom\n For ever remain.\n\n\n\n\n FINAL JUDGMENT.\n\n\n1114 C. P. M.\n That he may find mercy, etc.\n 2 Tim. 1:18.\n\n When thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come\n To take thy ransomed people home,\n Shall I among them stand?\n Shall such a worthless worm as I,\n Who sometimes am afraid to die,\n Be found at thy right hand?\n\n 2 I love to meet thy people now,\n Before thy feet with them to bow,\n Though vilest of them all;\n But--can I bear the piercing thought--\n What if my name should be left out\n When thou for them shalt call?\n\n 3 O Lord, prevent it by thy grace:\n Be thou my only hiding-place,\n In this, the accepted day;\n Thy pardoning voice, O, let me hear,\n To still my unbelieving fear,\n Nor let me fall, I pray.\n\n 4 And when the final trump shall sound,\n Among thy saints let me be found,\n To bow before thy face;\n Then in triumphant strains I'll sing,\n While heaven's resounding mansions ring\n With praise of sovereign grace.\n\n\n1115 S. M.\n Behold the day is come.\n\n Behold the day is come;\n The righteous Judge is near;\n And sinners, trembling at their doom,\n Shall soon their sentence hear.\n\n 2 Angels, in bright attire,\n Conduct him through the skies;\n Darkness and tempest, smoke and fire,\n Attend him as he flies.\n\n 3 How awful is the sight!\n How loud the thunders roar!\n The sun forbears to give his light,\n And stars are seen no more.\n\n 4 The whole creation groans;\n But saints arise and sing:\n They are the ransomed of the Lord,\n And he their God and King.\n\n\n1116 8s, 7s & 4s.\n The voice of the archangel, etc.\n 1 Thess. 4:16.\n\n Hark, ye mortals, hear the trumpet\n Sounding loud, the mighty roar!\n Hark! the archangel's voice proclaiming,\n Thou, old Time, shalt be no more.\n Rolling ages,\n Now your solemn close appears.\n\n\n1117 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Every eye shall see him.\n Rev. 1:7.\n\n Day of judgment, day of wonders!\n Hark! the trumpet's awful sound,\n Louder than a thousand thunders,\n Shakes the vast creation round;\n How the summons\n Will the sinner's heart confound!\n\n 2 See the Judge our nature wearing,\n Clothed in majesty divine!\n You who long for his appearing,\n Then shall say, \"This Lord is mine!\"\n Gracious Saviour,\n Own me in that day for thine!\n\n 3 At his call the dead awaken,\n Rise to life from earth and sea:\n All the powers of nature, shaken\n By his looks, prepare to flee:\n Careless sinner,\n What will then become of thee?\n\n 4 Horrors past imagination\n Will surprise your trembling heart,\n When you hear your condemnation,\n \"Hence, accursed wretch, depart!\n Hence, with Satan\n And his angels have your part.\"\n\n 5 But to those who have confessed,\n Loved and served the Lord below,\n He will say, \"Come near, you blessed,\n See the kingdom I bestow:\n You for ever\n Shall my love and glory know.\"\n\n 6 Under sorrows and reproaches,\n May this thought our courage raise!\n Swiftly God's great day approaches,\n Sighs shall then be changed to praise:\n May we triumph,\n When the world is in a blaze!\n\n\n1118 11s & 5s.\n Where shall the ungodly, etc.\n 1 Peter 4:18.\n\n Ah, guilty sinner, ruined by transgression,\n What shall thy doom be, when, arrayed in terror,\n God shall command thee, covered with pollution,\n Up to the judgement?\n\n 2 Stop, thoughtless sinner, stop awhile and ponder,\n Ere death arrest thee, and the Judge, in vengeance\n Hurl from his presence thy affrighted spirit,\n Swift to perdition.\n\n 3 Oft has he called thee, but thou wouldst not hear him,\n Mercies and judgments have alike been slighted;\n Yet he is gracious, and with arms unfolded,\n Waits to embrace thee.\n\n 4 Come, then, poor sinner, come away this moment,\n Just as you are, come, filthy and polluted,\n Come to the fountain open for the guilty;\n Jesus invites you.\n\n 5 But, if you trifle with his gracious message,\n Cleave to the world and love its guilty pleasures,\n Mercy, grown weary, shall, in righteous judgment,\n Leave you for ever.\n\n 6 O! guilty sinner, hear the voice of warning;\n Fly to the Saviour, and embrace his pardon;\n So shall your spirit meet with joy triumphant,\n Death and the judgment.\n\n\n\n\n HEAVEN.\n\n\n1119 L. M.\n The former things are passed away.\n Rev. 21:4.\n\n There is a land mine eye hath seen,\n In visions of enraptured thought,\n So bright that all which spreads between\n Is with its radiant glory fraught;\n\n 2 A land upon whose blissful shore\n There rests no shadow, falls no stain;\n There those who meet shall part no more,\n And those long parted, meet again.\n\n 3 Its skies are not like earthly skies,\n With varying hues of shade and light;\n It hath no need of suns to rise\n To dissipate the gloom of night.\n\n 4 There sweeps no desolating wind\n Across that calm, serene abode;\n The wanderer there a home may find,\n Within the paradise of God.\n\n\n1120 C. M.\n Rev. 14:1-3.\n\n On Zion's glorious summit stood\n A numerous host redeemed by blood;\n They hymned their King in strains divine:\n I heard the song, and strove to join.\n\n 2 Here all who suffered sword or flame\n For truth, or Jesus' lovely name,\n Shout victory now, and hail the Lamb,\n And bow before the great I AM.\n\n 3 While everlasting ages roll,\n Eternal love shall feast their soul,\n And scenes of bliss for ever new\n Rise in succession to their view.\n\n 4 O sweet employ, to sing and trace\n The amazing hights and depths of grace;\n And spend from sin and sorrow free,\n A blissful, vast eternity!\n\n 5 O what a sweet, exalted song,\n When every tribe and every tongue,\n Redeemed by blood, with Christ appear,\n And join in one full chorus there!\n\n 6 My soul anticipates the day--\n Would stretch her wings and soar away,\n To aid the song, the palm to bear,\n And praise my great Redeemer there.\n\n\n1121 L. M.\n Rev. 22:4.\n\n Lo! round the throne, a glorious band,\n The saints in countless myriads stand;\n Of every tongue redeemed to God,\n Arrayed in garments washed in blood.\n\n 2 Through tribulation great they came;\n They bore the cross, despised the shame;\n But now from all their labors rest,\n In God's eternal' glory blest.\n\n 3 They see the Saviour face to face;\n They sing the triumph of his grace;\n And day and night, with ceaseless praise,\n To him their loud hosannas raise.\n\n 4 O, may we tread the sacred road\n That holy saints and martyrs trod;\n Wage to the end the glorious strife,\n And win, like them, a crown of life.\n\n\n1122 L. M.\n Return unto thy rest, O my soul.\n Psalm 116:7.\n\n Return, my soul, and sweetly rest,\n On thy almighty Father's breast;\n The bounties of his grace adore,\n And count his wondrous mercies o'er.\n\n 2 Thy mercy, Lord, preserved my breath,\n And snatched my fainting soul from death;\n Removed my sorrows, dried my tears,\n And saved me from surrounding snares.\n\n 3 What shall I render to thee, Lord?\n Or how his wondrous grace record?\n To him my grateful voice I'll raise,\n With just thanksgiving to his praise.\n\n 4 O Zion! in thy sacred courts,\n Where glory dwells, and joy resorts,\n To notes divine I'll tune the song,\n And praise shall flow from every tongue.\n\n\n1123 L. M.\n In my Father's house, etc.\n John 14:2.\n\n Thy Father's house! thine own bright home,\n And thou hast there a place for me!\n Though yet an exile here I roam,\n That distant home by faith I see.\n\n 2 I see its domes resplendent glow,\n Where beams of God's own glory fall;\n And trees of life immortal grow,\n Whose fruits o'erhang the sapphire wall.\n\n 3 I know that thou, who on the tree\n Didst deign our mortal guilt to bear,\n Wilt bring thine own to dwell with thee,\n And waitest to receive me there!\n\n 4 Thy love will there array my soul\n In thine own robe of spotless hue;\n And I shall gaze while ages roll,\n On thee, with raptures ever new!\n\n 5 O, welcome day! when thou my feet\n Shalt bring the shining threshold o'er;\n A Father's warm embrace to meet,\n And dwell at home for evermore!\n\n\n1124 L. M.\n The heavenly mansion.\n\n My heavenly home is bright and fair,\n We'll be gathered home;\n Nor death nor sighing visit there,\n We'll be gathered home:\n CHORUS.\n We'll wait till Jesus comes,\n We'll wait till Jesus comes,\n We'll wait till Jesus comes,\n And we'll be gathered home.\n\n 2 Its glittering towers the sun outshine,\n We'll be gathered home;\n That heavenly mansion shall be mine,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 3 My Father's house is built on high,\n We'll be gathered home;\n Above the arched and starry sky,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 4 When from this earthly prison free,\n We'll be gathered home;\n That heavenly mansion mine shall be,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 5 While here, a stranger far from home,\n We'll be gathered home;\n Affliction's waves may round me foam,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 6 Let others seek a home below,\n We'll be gathered home,\n Which flames devour or waves o'erthrow,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 7 Be mine the happier lot to own,\n We'll be gathered home;\n A heavenly mansion near the throne,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 8 Then, fail this earth, let stars decline,\n We'll be gathered home;\n And sun and moon refuse to shine,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n 9 All nature sink and cease to be,\n We'll be gathered home;\n That heavenly mansion stands for me,\n We'll be gathered home.\n\n\n1125 L. M.\n 1 Pet. 1:4.\n\n There is a region lovelier far\n Than sages tell or poets sing--\n Brighter than summer's beauties are,\n And softer than the tints of spring.\n CHORUS.\n I'm going home, I'm going home,\n I'm going home to die no more,\n To die no more, to die no more,\n I'm going home to die no more.\n\n 2 It is all holy and serene,\n The land of glory and repose;\n No cloud obscures the radiant scene;\n There not a tear of sorrow flows.\n\n\n1126 C. M.\n They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy.\n Psalm 126:5.\n\n There is an hour of hallowed peace\n For those with care oppressed,\n When sighs and sorrowing tears shall cease,\n And all be hushed to rest.\n\n 2 'Tis then the soul is freed from fears\n And doubts which here annoy;\n Then they that oft had sown in tears,\n Shall reap again in joy.\n\n 3 There is a home of sweet repose,\n Where storms assail no more;\n The stream of endless pleasure flows,\n On that celestial shore.\n\n 4 There purity with love appears,\n And bliss without alloy;\n There they that oft had sown in tears\n Shall reap again in joy.\n\n\n1127 C. M. D.\n There's music in the upper heaven.\n\n There's music in the upper heaven--\n The choral notes that swell,\n Are sweeter, fuller, richer far,\n Than human lips can tell;\n When rings the gush of golden harps,\n And heavenly lutes are swept,\n To tell the quenchless love of him\n Who o'er a lost world wept.\n\n 2 The gliding rush of countless wings,\n Borne on the swelling breeze,\n That wafts the rustling music by,\n Amid embowered trees;\n The echo of the myriad feet,\n That fall on pavements fair,\n Of glittering dazzling gold that gleams\n In untold brightness there.\n\n 3 The music of the pearly gates,\n When back by angels flung,\n Admitting there a ransomed soul,\n Their sinless bands among;\n The silvery sound that's swelling up,\n When flows the stream of life;\n The rustle of the emerald leaf,\n With healing virtues rife:\n\n 4 And then the tide of melody\n That swells and bursts, when rings\n The new song in that far-off world,\n That thrilling rapture brings:\n But, awed, we may not note its power,\n Its depths we may not sound;\n Unfathomed, fathomless it rolls\n In glorious might around.\n\n\n1128 C. M.\n Earnestly desiring.\n 2 Cor. 5:2.\n\n O could our thoughts and wishes fly\n Above these gloomy shades,\n To those bright worlds beyond the sky,\n Which sorrow ne'er invades!\n\n 2 There joys, unseen by mortal eyes,\n Or reason's feeble ray,\n In ever-blooming prospect rise,\n Unconscious of decay.\n\n 3 Lord, send a beam of light divine,\n To guide our upward aim!\n With one reviving touch of thine,\n Our languid hearts inflame.\n\n 4 Then shall, on faith's sublimest wing,\n Our ardent wishes rise\n To those bright scenes where pleasures spring,\n Immortal to the skies.\n\n\n1129 C. M.\n There is a land, a happy land.\n\n There is a land, a happy land\n Where tears are wiped away\n From every eye, by God's own hand,\n And night is turned to day.\n\n 2 There is a home, a happy home,\n Where way-worn travelers rest,\n Where toil and languor never come,\n And every mourner's blest.\n\n 3 There is a port, a peaceful port,\n A safe and quiet shore,\n Where weary mariners resort\n And fear the storms no more.\n\n 4 There is a crown, a dazzling crown,\n Bedecked with jewels fair;\n And priests and kings of high renown,\n That crown of glory wear.\n\n 5 That land be mine, that calm retreat,\n That crown of glory bright;\n Then I'll esteem each bitter sweet,\n And every burden light.\n\n\n1130 8s & 6s.\n The hope--laid up for you in heaven.\n Col. 1:5.\n\n There is an hour of peaceful rest,\n To mourning wanderers given;\n There is a tear for souls distressed,\n A balm for every wounded breast--\n 'Tis found above--in heaven.\n\n 2 There is a home for weary souls,\n By sins and sorrows driven;\n When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals,\n Where storms arise and ocean rolls,\n And all is drear--but heaven.\n\n 3 There faith lifts up the tearless eye,\n The heart with anguish riven;\n It views the tempest passing by,\n Sees evening shadows quickly fly,\n And all serene--in heaven.\n\n 4 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,\n And joys supreme are given;\n There rays divine disperse the gloom;\n Beyond the dark and narrow tomb\n Appears the dawn--of heaven.\n\n\n1131 C. M.\n Rev. 15:2, 3.\n\n Hark! hark! the voice of ceaseless praise,\n Around Jehovah's throne;\n Songs of celestial joy they raise,\n To mortal lips unknown.\n\n 2 Upon the sea of glass they stand\n In shining robes of light;\n The harps of God are in their hand,\n They rest not day or night.\n\n 3 O! for an angel's perfect love,\n A seraph's soaring wing,\n To sing with thousand saints above,\n The triumphs of our King.\n\n 4 On earth our feeble voice we try,\n In weakness and in shame,\n We bless, we laud, we magnify,\n We conquer in his name.\n\n 5 But, O! with pure and sinless heart,\n His mercies to adore,\n My God, to know thee as thou art,\n Nor grieve thy Spirit more!\n\n 6 O! blessed hope! a \"little while,\"\n And we, amidst that throng,\n Shall live in our Redeemer's smile,\n And swell the immortal song.\n\n\n1132 C. M.\n Far up the everlasting hills.\n\n There is a fold where none can stray,\n And pastures ever green,\n Where sultry sun, or stormy day,\n Or night, is never seen.\n\n 2 Far up the everlasting hills,\n In God's own light it lies;\n His smile its vast dominion fills\n With joy that never dies.\n\n 3 One narrow vale, one darksome wave,\n Divides that land from this;\n I have a Shepherd pledged to save,\n And bear me home to bliss.\n\n 4 Soon at his feet my soul shall lie,\n In life's last struggling breath;\n But I shall only seem to die,\n I shall not taste of death.\n\n 5 Far from this guilty world to be\n Exempt from toil and strife;\n To spend eternity with thee--\n My Saviour, this is life!\n\n\n1133 S. M.\n Inheritance of the saints in light.\n Col. 1:12.\n\n And is there, Lord, a rest\n For weary souls designed,\n Where not a care shall stir the breast,\n Or sorrow entrance find?\n\n 2 Is there a blissful home,\n Where kindred minds shall meet,\n And live, and love, nor ever roam\n From that serene retreat?\n\n 3 Are their bright, happy fields,\n Where nought that blooms shall die;\n Where each new scene fresh pleasure yields,\n And healthful breezes sigh?\n\n 4 Are there celestial streams,\n Where living waters glide,\n With murmurs sweet as angel dreams,\n And flowery banks beside?\n\n 5 For ever blessed they\n Whose joyful feet shall stand,\n While endless ages waste away,\n Amid that glorious land!\n\n 6 My soul would thither tend\n While toilsome years are given;\n Then let me, gracious Lord, ascend\n To sweet repose in heaven!\n\n\n1134 S. M.\n I love to think of heaven.\n\n I love to think of heaven,\n Where white-robed angels are,\n Where many a friend is gathered safe,\n From fear, and toil, and care.\n CHORUS.\n There will be no more parting there,\n There will be no more parting there,\n In heaven above, where all is love,\n There will be no more parting there.\n\n 2 I love to think of heaven,\n Where my Redeemer reigns,\n Where rapturous songs of triumph rise,\n In endless, joyous strains.\n\n 3 I love to think of heaven,\n The saints' eternal home,\n Where palms, and robes, and crowns ne'er fade,\n And all our joys are one.\n\n 4 I love to think of heaven,\n The greetings there we'll meet,\n The harps--the songs for ever ours--\n The walks--the golden streets.\n\n 5 I love to think of heaven,\n That promised land so fair;\n O how my raptured spirit longs\n To be for ever there.\n\n\n1135 S. M.\n Come, sing to me of heaven.\n\n Come, sing to me of heaven,\n When I'm about to die;\n Sing songs of holy ecstasy,\n To waft my soul on high.\n CHORUS.\n There'll be no sorrow there,\n There'll be no sorrow there,\n In heaven above, where all is love,\n There'll be no sorrow there.\n\n 2 When the last moment comes,\n O, watch my dying face,\n To catch the bright seraphic glow,\n Which on each feature plays.\n\n 3 Then to my raptured ear\n Let one sweet song be given;\n Let music charm me last on earth,\n And greet me first in heaven!\n\n\n1136 6s & 4s.\n Hebrews 11:16.\n\n Know ye that better land,\n Where care's unknown?\n Know ye that blessed band\n Around the throne?\n There, there is happiness,\n There streams of purest bliss;\n There, there are rest and peace--\n There, there alone.\n\n 2 Yes, yes, we know that place,\n We know it well;\n Eye hath not seen his face,\n Tongue can not tell;\n There are the angels bright,\n There saints enrobed in white,\n All, all are clothed in light--\n There, there they dwell.\n\n 3 O! we are weary here,\n A little band,\n Yet soon in glory there\n We hope to stand;\n Then let us haste away,\n Speed o'er this world's dark way,\n Unto that land of day--\n That better land.\n\n 4 Come! hasten that sweet day,\n Let time begone,\n Come! Lord, make no delay,\n On thy white throne;\n Thy face we wish to see,\n To dwell and reign with thee,\n And, thine for ever be--\n Thine, thine alone.\n\n\n1137 7s, double.\n Who are these--and whence came they?\n Rev. 7:13.\n\n Who are these in bright array,\n This exulting, happy throng,\n Round the altar night and day,\n Hymning one triumphant song?\n \"Worthy is the Lamb, once slain,\n Blessing, honor, glory, power,\n Wisdom, riches, to obtain,\n New dominion every hour.\"\n\n 2 These through fiery trials trod;\n These from great affliction came;\n Now, before the throne of God,\n Sealed with his almighty name.\n Clad in raiment pure and white,\n Victor-palms in every hand,\n Through their great Redeemer's might,\n More than conquerors they stand.\n\n 3 Hunger, thirst, disease unknown,\n On immortal fruits they feed;\n Them the Lamb, amidst the throne,\n Shall to living fountains lead;\n Joy and gladness banish sighs;\n Perfect love dispels all fears;\n And for ever from their eyes\n God shall wipe away their tears.\n\n\n1138 7s, double.\n They rest from their labors.\n Rev. 14:13.\n\n High in yonder realms of light,\n Dwell the raptured saints above;\n Far beyond our feeble sight,\n Happy in Immanuel's love:\n Once they knew, like us below,\n Pilgrims in this vale of tears,\n Torturing pain and heavy woe,\n Gloomy doubts, distressing fears.\n\n 2 'Mid the chorus of the skies,\n 'Mid the angelic lyres above,\n Hark, their songs melodious rise,\n Songs of praise to Jesus' love!\n Happy spirits, ye are fled\n Where no grief can entrance find;\n Lulled to rest the aching head,\n Soothed the anguish of the mind.\n\n 3 All is tranquil and serene,\n Calm and undisturbed repose;\n There no cloud can intervene,\n There no angry tempest blows;\n Every tear is wiped away,\n Sighs no more shall heave the breast,\n Night is lost in endless day,\n Sorrow--in eternal rest.\n\n\n1139 7s, 6s & 4s.\n Good night till then.\n\n I journey forth rejoicing,\n From this dark vale of tears,\n To heavenly joy and freedom,\n From earthly bonds and fears;\n Where Christ our Lord shall gather\n All his redeemed again,\n His kingdom to inherit;--\n Good night till then!\n\n 2 Go to thy quiet resting,\n Poor tenement of clay!\n From all thy pain and weakness\n I gladly haste away;\n But still in faith confiding\n To find thee yet again,\n All glorious and immortal;--\n Good night till then!\n\n 3 Why thus so sadly weeping,\n Beloved one of my heart?\n The Lord is good and gracious,\n Though now he bids us part.\n Oft have we met in gladness,\n And we shall meet again,\n All sorrows left behind us;--\n Good night till then!\n\n 4 I go to see his glory,\n Whom we have loved below;\n I go, the blessed angels,\n The holy saints, to know;\n Our lovely ones departed,\n I go to find again,\n And wait for you to join us;--\n Good night till then!\n\n 5 I hear the Saviour calling;\n The joyful hour has come:\n The angel-guards are ready\n To guide me to our home;\n Where Christ our Lord shall gather\n All his redeemed again,\n His kingdom to inherit;--\n Good night till then!\n\n\n1140 7s.\n Rev. 7:13-17.\n\n Palms of glory, raiment bright,\n Crowns that never fade away,\n Gird and deck the saints in light;\n Priest, and kings, and conquerors they.\n\n 2 Yet the conquerors bring their palms\n To the Lamb amidst the throne,\n And proclaim in joyful psalms\n Victory through his cross alone.\n\n 3 Kings for harps their crowns resign,\n Crying, as they strike the chords,\n \"Take the kingdom, it is thine,\n King of kings, and Lord of lords!\"\n\n 4 Round the altar saints confess,\n If their robes are white as snow,\n 'Twas the Saviour's wondrous grace,\n And his blood, that made them so.\n\n 5 Who were these? on earth they dwelt;\n Sinners once, of Adam's race;\n Guilt, and fear, and suffering felt;\n But were saved by sovereign grace.\n\n 6 They were mortal, too, like us:\n Ah! when we, like them, must die,\n May our souls, translated thus,\n Triumph, reign and shine on high!\n\n\n1141 7s & 6s.\n He hath prepared for them a city.\n Heb. 11:16.\n\n We are on our journey home,\n Where Christ our Lord is gone;\n We shall meet around his throne,\n When he makes his people one\n In the new Jerusalem.\n\n 2 We can see that distant home,\n Though clouds rise dark between;\n Faith views the radiant dome,\n And a luster flashes keen\n From the new Jerusalem.\n\n 3 O glory shining far\n From the never-setting Sun!\n O trembling morning star!\n Our journey's almost done\n To the new Jerusalem.\n\n 4 O holy! heavenly home!\n O, rest eternal there!\n When shall the exiles come,\n Where they cease from earthly care,\n In the new Jerusalem.\n\n 5 Our hearts are breaking now\n Those mansions fair to see:\n O Lord! thy heavens bow,\n And raise us up with thee\n To the new Jerusalem.\n\n\n1142 8s & 7s.\n Arise and depart, etc.\n Micah 2:16.\n\n This is not my place of resting,\n Mine a city yet to come;\n Onward to it I am hasting--\n On to my eternal home.\n\n 2 In it, all is light and glory,\n O'er it shines a nightless day:\n Every trace of sin's sad story,\n All the curse has passed away.\n\n 3 There the Lamb, our Shepherd, leads us,\n By the streams of life along;\n On the freshest pastures feeds us,\n Turns our sighing into song.\n\n 4 Soon we pass this desert dreary,\n Soon we bid farewell to pain;\n Never more be sad or weary,\n Never, never sin again.\n\n\n1143 S. M. D.\n Rev. 21:25.\n\n There is no night in heaven:\n In that blest world above\n Work never can bring weariness,\n For work itself is love.\n There is no night in heaven:\n Yet nightly round the bed\n Of every Christian wanderer\n Faith has an angel tread.\n\n 2 There is no grief in heaven:\n For life is one glad day,\n And tears are of those former things\n Which all have passed away,\n There is no grief in heaven:\n Yet angels from on high,\n On golden pinions earthward glide,\n The Christian's tears to dry.\n\n 3 There is no want in heaven:\n The Lamb of God supplies\n Life's tree of twelvefold fruitage still,\n Life's spring which never dries.\n There is no want in heaven:\n Yet in a desert land\n The fainting prophet was sustained\n And fed by angel's hand.\n\n 4 There is no sin in heaven!\n Behold that blessed throng;\n All holy is their spotless robes,\n All holy is their song.\n There is no sin in heaven:\n Here who from sin is free?\n Yet angels aid us in our strife\n For Christ's true liberty.\n\n 5 There is no death in heaven:\n For they who gain that shore\n Have won their immortality,\n And they can die no more.\n There is no death in heaven;\n But, when the Christian dies,\n The angels wait his parting soul,\n And waft it to the skies.\n\n\n1144 7s & 6s.\n Reunion in heaven.\n\n No seas again shall sever,\n No desert intervene,\n No deep sad-flowing river\n Shall roll its tide between.\n\n 2 Love and unsevered union\n Of soul with those we love,\n Nearness and glad communion,\n Shall be our joy above.\n\n 3 No dread of wasting sickness,\n No thought of ache or pain,\n No fretting hours of weakness,\n Shall mar our peace again.\n\n 4 No death our homes o'ershading\n Shall e'er our harps unstring\n For all is life unfading\n In presence of our King,\n\n\n1145 7s & 6s.\n The beautiful of lands.\n\n There is a land immortal,\n The beautiful of lands;\n Beside its ancient portal\n A silent sentry stands;\n He only can undo it,\n And open wide the door;\n And mortals who pass through it,\n Are mortals nevermore.\n\n 2 Though dark and drear the passage\n That leadeth to the gate,\n Yet grace comes with the message,\n To souls that watch and wait;\n And at the time appointed\n A messenger comes down,\n And leads the Lord's anointed\n From cross to glory's crown.\n\n 3 Their sighs are lost in singing,\n They're blessed in their tears;\n Their journey heavenward winging,\n They leave on earth their fears:\n Death like an angel seemeth;\n \"We welcome thee,\" they cry;\n Their face with glory beameth--\n 'Tis life for them to die!\n\n\n1146 6s & 4s.\n Heaven is my home.\n\n I'm but a stranger here;\n Heaven is my home;\n Earth is a desert drear;\n Heaven is my home.\n Danger and sorrow stand\n Round me on every hand,\n Heaven is my fatherland--\n Heaven is my home.\n\n 2 What though the tempests rage,\n Heaven is my home;\n Short is my pilgrimage;\n Heaven is my home.\n And Time's wild wintry blast\n Soon will be overpast,\n I shall reach home at last;\n Heaven is my home.\n\n 3 There at my Saviour's side,\n Heaven is my home;\n I shall be glorified;\n Heaven is my home.\n There with the good and blest,\n Those I loved most and best,\n I shall for ever rest:\n Heaven is my home.\n\n 4 Therefore I'll murmur not;\n Heaven is my home;\n Whate'er my earthly lot,\n Heaven is my home.\n For I shall surely stand,\n There at my Lord's right hand,\n Heaven is my fatherland--\n Heaven is my home.\n\n\n1147 6s & 7s.\n The region above.\n\n There's a region above,\n Free from sin and temptation,\n And a mansion of love,\n For each heir of salvation.\n Then dismiss all thy fears,\n Weary pilgrim of sorrow;\n Though thy sun set in tears,\n 'Twill rise brighter to-morrow.\n\n 2 There our toils will be done,\n And free grace be our story,\n God himself be our Sun,\n And our unsetting glory.\n In that world of delight\n Spring shall never be ended,\n Nor shall shadows nor night,\n With its brightness be blended.\n\n 3 There shall friends no more part,\n Nor shall farewells be spoken,\n There'll be balm for the heart\n That with anguish was broken.\n From affliction set free,\n And from God ne'er to sever,\n We his glory shall see,\n And enjoy him for ever.\n\n\n1148 5s & 4s.\n Rev. 22:5.\n\n No shadows yonder!\n All light and song!\n Each day I wonder,\n And say how long\n Shall time me sunder\n From that dear throng?\n\n 2 No weeping yonder--\n All fled away!\n While here I wander\n Each weary day,\n And sigh as I ponder\n My long, long stay.\n\n 3 No partings yonder--\n Time and space never\n Again shall sunder--\n Hearts can not sever--\n Dearer and fonder\n Hands clasped for ever.\n\n 4 None wanting yonder--\n Bought by the Lamb,\n All gathered under\n The evergreen palm--\n Loud as night's thunder\n Ascends the glad psalm.\n\n\n1149 8s & 7s.\n Rest for the weary.\n\n In the Christian's home in glory,\n There remains a land of rest,\n There my Saviour's gone before me\n To fulfill my soul's request.\n CHORUS.\n There is rest for the weary,\n There is rest for you--\n On the other side of Jordan,\n In the sweet fields of Eden,\n Where the tree of life is blooming,\n There is rest for you.\n\n 2 He is fitting up my mansion,\n Which eternally shall stand,\n For my stay shall not be transient,\n In that holy, happy land.\n\n 3 Pain nor sickness ne'er shall enter,\n Grief nor woe my lot shall share,\n But in that celestial center,\n I a crown of life shall wear.\n\n 4 Death itself shall then be vanquished,\n And his sting shall be withdrawn;\n Shout for gladness, O ye ransomed!\n Hail with joy the rising morn.\n\n 5 Sing, O sing, ye heirs of glory;\n Shout your triumph as you go;\n Zion's gates will open for you,\n You shall find an entrance through.\n\n\n1150 8s.\n What must it be to be there?\n\n We speak of the realms of the blest,\n That country so bright and so fair,\n And oft are its glories confessed,\n But what must it be to be there?\n\n 2 We speak of its pathways of gold,\n Of its walls decked with jewels so rare,\n Of its wonders and pleasures untold,\n But what must it be to be there?\n\n 3 We speak of its freedom from sin,\n From sorrow, temptation and care,\n From trials without and within,\n But what must it be to be there?\n\n 4 We speak of its service of love,\n The robes which the glorified wear,\n The Church of the First-born above,\n But what must it be to be there?\n\n 5 O Lord, in this valley of woe,\n Our spirits for heaven prepare;\n Then shortly we also shall know\n And feel what it is to be there.\n\n\n1151 8s & 7s.\n Shall we know each other there?\n\n When we hear the music ringing\n In the bright celestial dome,\n When sweet angel voices, singing,\n Gladly bid us welcome home\n To the land of ancient story,\n Where the spirit knows no care,\n In that land of light and glory,\n Shall we know each other there?\n\n 2 When the holy angels meet us,\n As we go to join their band,\n Shall we know the friends that greet us\n In the glorious spirit land?\n Shall we see the same eyes shining\n On us as in days of yore?\n Shall we feel their dear arms twining\n Fondly round us as before?\n\n 3 Yes, my earth-worn soul rejoices,\n And my weary heart grows light,\n For the sweet and cheerful voices,\n And the forms so pure and bright,\n That shall welcome us in heaven,\n Are the loved of long ago;\n And to them 'tis kindly given,\n Thus their mortal friends to know.\n\n 4 O, ye weary, sad, and tossed ones,\n Droop not, faint not by the way;\n Ye shall join the loved and just ones\n In the land of perfect day.\n Harp-strings, touched by angel fingers,\n Murmured in my raptured ear--\n Evermore their sweet song lingers--\n We shall know each other there.\n\n\n1152 8s & 7s.\n Happy home.\n\n In that world of ancient story,\n Where no storms can ever come,\n Where the Saviour dwells in glory,\n There remains for us a home.\n CHORUS.\n Happy home, happy home,\n Jesus bids his followers come,\n To that land of bliss and glory,\n Our happy, happy home.\n\n 2 There within the heavenly mansions,\n Where life's river flows so clear,\n We shall see our blessed Saviour,\n If we love and serve him here.\n\n 3 There with holy angels dwelling,\n Where the ransomed wander free,\n Jesus' praises ever telling,\n Sing we through eternity.\n\n 4 There amid the shining numbers,\n All our toils and labors o'er,\n Where the Guardian never slumbers,\n We shall dwell for evermore.\n\n\n1153 6s & 4s.\n Almost home.\n\n Is it a long way off?\n O, no! a few more years,\n A few more bitter tears--\n We shall be there.\n Sometimes the way seems long,\n Our comforters all go,\n Woe follows after woe,\n Care after care.\n\n 2 O! brethren dear, how weak,\n How faint and weak we are!\n Yet Jesus leads us far\n Through tangled ways\n Into the very heart\n Of this dark wilderness\n Where dangers thickest press,\n And Satan strays.\n\n 3 But he is strong and wise,\n And we, his children blind,\n Must trust his thoughtful mind\n And tender care.\n So gentle is his love,\n We may be sure that sight\n Would show us all is right,\n And answered prayer.\n\n 4 'Tis no uncertain way\n We tread, for Jesus still\n Leads with unerring skill\n Where'er we roam;\n And from the desert wild\n Soon shall our path emerge,\n And land us on the verge\n Of our dear home.\n\n\n1154 6s & 4s.\n I'm going home.\n\n I am a stranger here;\n No home, no rest I see;\n Not all earth counts most dear\n Can win a sigh from me.\n I'm going home.\n\n 2 Jesus, thy home is mine,\n And I thy Father's child;\n With hopes and joys divine,\n The world's a dreary wild.\n I'm going home.\n\n 3 Home! O! how soft and sweet,\n It thrills upon the heart!\n Home! where the brethren meet,\n And never, never part.\n I'm going home.\n\n 4 Home! where the Bridegroom takes\n The purchase of his love:\n Home! where the Father waits\n To welcome saints above.\n I'm going home.\n\n 5 Yes! when the world looks cold,\n Which did my Lord revile,\n A lamb within the fold,\n I can look up and smile.\n I'm going home.\n\n 6 When earth's delusive charms\n Would snare my pilgrim feet,\n I fly to Jesus' arms,\n And yet again repeat,\n I'm going home.\n\n 7 When breaks each mortal tie\n That holds me from the goal,\n This, this can satisfy\n The cravings of my soul--\n I'm going home.\n\n 8 Ah! gently, gently lead,\n Along the painful way,\n Bid every word and deed,\n And every look to say,\n I'm going home.\n\n\n1155 7s & 6s.\n Strangers and pilgrims.\n Heb. 11:13.\n\n We have no home but heaven;\n A pilgrim's garb we wear;\n Our path is marked by changes,\n And strewed with many a care;\n Surrounded with temptation;\n By varied ills oppressed;\n Each day's experience warns us\n That this is not our rest.\n\n 2 We have no home but heaven;\n Then, wherefore seek one here?\n Why murmur at privation,\n Or grieve when trouble's near?\n It is but for a season\n That we as strangers roam,\n And strangers must not look for\n The comforts of a home.\n\n 3 We have no home but heaven;\n We want no home beside;\n O, God, our Friend and Father,\n Our footsteps thither guide,\n Unfold to us its glory,\n Prepare us for its joy,\n Its pure and perfect friendship,\n Its angel-like employ.\n\n 4 We have a home in heaven:--\n How cheering is the thought!\n How bright the expectations\n Which God's own word has taught!\n With eager hearts we hasten\n The promised bliss to share;\n We have no home but heaven;--\n O, would that we were there!\n\n\n1156 8s & 7s.\n Shall we e'er forget the story?\n\n When we reach a quiet dwelling,\n On the strong eternal hills,\n And our praise to him is swelling,\n Who the vast creation fills;\n When the paths of prayer and duty,\n And affliction all are trod,\n And we wake to see the beauty\n Of our Saviour and our God:\n\n 2 With the light of resurrection,\n When our changed bodies glow,\n And we gain the full perfection\n Of the bliss begun below;\n When the life that flesh obscureth\n In each radiant form shall shine,\n And the joy that aye endureth,\n Flashes forth in beams divine:\n\n 3 While we wave the palms of glory\n Through the long eternal years,\n Shall we e'er forget the story\n Of our mortal griefs and fears?\n Shall we e'er forget the sadness,\n And the clouds that hung so dim,\n When our hearts are filled with gladness,\n And our tears are dried by him?\n\n 4 Shall the memory be banished\n Of his kindness and his care,\n When the wants and woes are vanished\n Which he loved to soothe and share?\n All the way by which he led us,\n All the grievings which he bore,\n All the patient love he taught us,\n Shall we think of them no more?\n\n 5 Yes! we surely shall remember\n How he quickened us from death--\n How he fanned the dying ember\n With his Spirit's glowing breath.\n We shall read the tender meaning\n Of the sorrows and alarms,\n As we trod the desert, leaning\n On his everlasting arms.\n\n 6 And his rest will be the dearer\n When we think of weary ways,\n And his light will seem the clearer\n As we muse on cloudy days.\n O 'twill be a glorious morrow\n To a dark and stormy day!\n We shall recollect our sorrow\n As the streams that pass away.\n\n\n1157 8s, 6 lines.\n Beautiful Zion.\n Psalm 50:2.\n\n Beautiful Zion, built above--\n Beautiful city, that I love;\n Beautiful gates of pearly white,\n Beautiful temple--God its light!\n He who was slain on Calvary\n Opens those pearly gates to me.\n\n 2 Beautiful heaven, where all is light;\n Beautiful angels, clothed in white;\n Beautiful strains that never tire,\n Beautiful harps through all the choir:\n There shall I join the chorus sweet,\n Worshiping at the Saviour's feet.\n\n 3 Beautiful crowns on every brow,\n Beautiful palms the conquerors show,\n Beautiful robes the ransomed wear,\n Beautiful all who enter there!\n Thither I press with eager feet;\n There shall my rest be long and sweet.\n\n 4 Beautiful throne for Christ our King,\n Beautiful songs the angels sing,\n Beautiful rest--all wanderings cease--\n Beautiful home of perfect peace;\n There shall my eyes the Saviour see:\n Haste to this heavenly home with me!\n\n\n1158 P. M.\n The better land.\n\n I hear thee speak of the better land,\n Thou callest its children a happy band;\n Mother! O where is that radiant shore,\n Shall we not seek it, and weep no more?\n Is it where the flower of the orange blows,\n And the fire-flies dance in the myrtle boughs?\n Not there! not there!\n\n 2 Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,\n And the date grows ripe under sunny skies,\n Or, 'midst the green islands of glittering seas,\n Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,\n And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,\n Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?\n Not there! not there!\n\n 3 Is it far away in some region old,\n Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold,\n And the burning rays of the rubies shine,\n And the diamond lights up the secret mine?\n And the pearl glows forth from the coral strand,\n Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?\n Not there! not there!\n\n 4 Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy,\n Ear hath not heard its sweet song of joy!\n Dreams can not picture a world so fair,\n Sorrow and death may not enter there,\n Time may not breathe on its fadeless bloom,\n Far beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb!\n 'Tis there! 'tis there!\n\n\n1159 9s & 8s.\n The Father-land.\n\n There is a place where my hopes are stayed,\n My heart and my treasure are there;\n Where verdure and blossoms never fade,\n And fields are eternally fair.\n CHORUS.\n That blissful place is my father-land;\n By faith its delights I explore;\n Come, favor my flight, angelic band,\n And waft me in peace to the shore.\n\n 2 There is a place where the angels dwell,\n A pure and peaceful abode;\n The joys of that place no tongue can tell;\n For there is the palace of God!\n\n 3 There is a place where my friends are gone\n Who suffered and worshiped with me!\n Exalted with Christ, high on his throne,\n The King in his beauty they see.\n\n 4 There is a place where I hope to live\n When life and its labors are o'er,\n A place which the Lord to me will give,\n And then I shall sorrow no more.\n\n\n1160 4s & 10s.\n The former things are passed away.\n Rev. 21:4.\n\n No sickness there,\n No weary wasting of the frame away,\n No fearful shrinking from the midnight air,\n No dread of summer's bright and fervid ray.\n\n 2 No hidden grief,\n No wild and cheerless vision of despair,\n No vain petition for a swift relief,\n No tearful eye, no broken hearts are there.\n\n 3 Care has no home\n Within that realm of ceaseless praise and song:\n Its tossing billows break and melt in foam,\n Far from the mansions of the spirit-throng.\n\n 4 No parted friends\n O'er mournful recollections have to weep!\n No bed of death enduring love attends,\n To watch the coming of a pulseless sleep.\n\n 5 No blasted flower\n Or withered bud celestial gardens grow!\n No scorching blast or fierce descending shower\n Scatters destruction like a ruthless foe!\n\n 6 No battle-word\n Startles the sacred host with fear and dread!\n The song of peace, Creation's morning heard,\n Is sung wherever angel-minstrels tread!\n\n 7 Let us depart\n If scenes like these await the weary soul!\n Look up, thou stricken one! Thy wounded heart,\n Shall bleed no more at sorrow's stern control!\n\n 8 With faith our guide,\n White-robed and innocent, to lead the way,\n Why fear to plunge in Jordan's rolling tide,\n And find the ocean of eternal day!\n\n\n1161 P. M.\n That beautiful world.\n\n We're going home, we've had visions bright\n Of that holy land, that world of light,\n Where the long, dark night of time is past,\n And the morn of eternity dawns at last;\n Where the weary saint no more shall roam,\n But dwell in a happy, peaceful home:\n Where the brow with sparkling gems is crowned,\n And the waves of bliss are flowing round.\n O, that beautiful world! O, that beautiful world!\n\n 2 We're going home, we soon shall be,\n Where the sky is clear, and all are free:\n Where the victor's song floats o'er the plains,\n And the seraph's anthems blend with its strains;\n Where the sun rolls down its brilliant flood,\n And beams on a world that is fair and good;\n Where stars, once dimmed at nature's doom,\n Will ever shine o'er the new earth's bloom.\n O, that beautiful world! O, that beautiful world!\n\n 3 'Mid the ransomed throng, 'mid the seas of bliss,\n 'Mid the holy city's gorgeousness;\n 'Mid the verdant plains, 'mid angels' cheer,\n 'Mid the saints that round the throne appear;\n Where the conqueror's song, as it sounds afar,\n Is wafted on the ambrosial air;\n Through endless years we then shall prove,\n The worth of a Saviour's matchless love.\n O, that beautiful world! O, that beautiful world.\n\n\n1162 P. M.\n The sun-bright clime.\n\n Have you heard, have you heard of that sun-bright clime,\n Undimmed by sorrow, unhurt by time;\n Where age hath no power o'er the fadeless frame--\n Where the eye is fire, and the heart is flame--\n Have you heard of that sun-bright clime?\n\n 2 A river of water gushes there,\n 'Mid flowers of beauty strangely fair,\n And a thousand wings are hovering o'er\n The dazzling wave and the golden shore\n That are seen in that sun-bright clime.\n\n 3 Millions of forms, all clothed in white,\n In garments of beauty, clear and bright,\n There dwell in their own immortal bowers,\n 'Mid fadeless hues of countless flowers\n That bloom in that sun-bright clime.\n\n 4 Ear hath not heard, and eye hath not seen,\n Their swelling songs, and their changeless sheen;\n Their ensigns are waving, their banners unfurl,\n O'er jasper walls and gates of pearl,\n That are fixed in that sun-bright clime.\n\n 5 But far, far away is that sinless clime,\n Undimmed by sorrow, unhurt by time;\n Where, amid all things bright and fair, is given\n The home of the just, and its name is heaven--\n The name of that sun-bright clime.\n\n\n1163 P. M.\n We'll be there in a little while.\n\n We have heard of that bright, that holy land,\n We have heard, and our hearts are glad,\n For we are a lonely pilgrim band;\n We are weary, and worn, and sad.\n They tell us that pilgrims are dwelling there,\n No more are they called homeless ones,\n And they say that the goodly land is fair,\n Where the fountain of life ever runs.\n CHORUS.\n We'll be there, we'll be there in a little while,\n And we'll join with the pure and blest,\n We'll all have the palms, the robes, the crowns,\n And we'll be for ever at rest.\n\n 2 We have heard of the palms, the robes, the crowns,\n Of that silvery band in white,\n Of the city fair with its golden gates\n All radiant with heavenly light.\n We have heard of the angels there, and saints\n With their golden harps, how they sing,\n And the mount, with the fruitful tree of life,\n And the leaves that healing bring.\n\n 3 There are beautiful birds in the bowers green,\n Their songs are blythe and sweet,\n Their warbling gushing ever new,\n The angel harpers greet.\n We'll be there, we'll be there in a little while,\n And we'll join with the pure and blest;\n We'll all have the palms, the robes, the crowns,\n And we'll be for ever at rest.\n\n\n1164 P. M.\n Shall we sing in heaven?\n\n Shall we sing in heaven for ever,\n Shall we sing?\n Shall we sing in heaven for ever,\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n They that meet shall sing for ever,\n Far beyond the rolling river,\n Meet to sing, and love for ever,\n In that happy land.\n\n 2 Shall we know each other ever,\n In that land?\n Shall we know each other ever,\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n They that meet shall know each other,\n Far beyond the rolling river, etc.\n\n 3 Shall we sing with holy angels\n In that land?\n Shall we sing with holy angels\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n Saints and angels sing for ever,\n Far beyond the rolling river, etc.\n\n 4 Shall we rest from care and sorrow,\n In that land?\n Shall we rest from care and sorrow,\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n They that meet shall rest for ever,\n Far beyond the rolling river, etc.\n\n 5 Shall me meet our dear, lost children,\n In that land?\n Shall me meet our dear, lost children,\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n Children meet and sing for ever,\n Far beyond the rolling river, etc.\n\n 6 Shall we meet our Christian parents,\n In that land?\n Shall we meet our Christian parents,\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n Parents and children meet together,\n Far beyond the rolling river, etc.\n\n 7 Shall we meet our faithful teachers\n In that land?\n Shall we meet our faithful teachers\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n Teachers and scholars meet together,\n Far beyond the rolling river, etc.\n\n 8 Shall we know our blessed Saviour\n In that land?\n Shall we know our blessed Saviour\n In that happy land?\n Yes! O, yes! in that land, that happy land,\n We shall know our blessed Saviour\n Far beyond the rolling river,\n Love and serve him there for ever.\n In that happy land.\n\n\n1165 P. M.\n Behold I make all things new.\n Rev. 21:5.\n\n That clime is not like this dull clime of ours;\n All, all is brightness there;\n A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers,\n And a benigner air.\n No calm below is like that calm above,\n No region here is like that realm of love;\n Earth's softest spring ne'er shed so soft a light,\n Earth's brightest summer never shone so bright.\n\n 2 That sky is not like this sad sky of ours,\n Tinged with earth's change and care;\n No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers;\n No broken sunshine there:\n One everlasting stretch of azure pours\n Its stainless splendor o'er those sinless shores:\n For there Jehovah shines with heavenly ray,\n And Jesus reigns, dispensing endless day.\n\n 3 The dwellers there are not like those of earth,\n No mortal stain they bear;\n And yet they seem of kindred blood and birth;\n Whence and how came they there?\n Earth was their native soil; from sin and shame,\n Through tribulation, they to glory came;\n Bond-slaves delivered from sin's crushing load,\n Brands plucked from burning by the hand of God.\n\n 4 Yon robes of theirs are not like those below;\n No angel's half so bright:\n Whence came that beauty, whence that living glow,\n And whence that radiant white?\n Washed in the blood of the atoning Lamb,\n Fair as the light these robes of theirs became;\n And now, all tears wiped off from every eye,\n They wander where the freshest pastures lie.\n\n\n1166 11s & 5s.\n The home of the soul.\n\n Oh where can the soul find relief from its foes?\n A shelter of safety, a home of repose?\n Can earth's highest summit, or deepest hid vale,\n Give a refuge, nor sorrow, nor sin can assail?\n No, no! there's no home!\n There's no home on earth--the soul has no home.\n\n 2 Shall it leave the low earth, and soar to the sky,\n And seek for a home in the mansions on high!\n In the bright realms of bliss will a dwelling be given,\n And the soul find a home in the glory of heaven?\n Yes, yes! there's a home!\n There's a home in high heaven--the soul has a home.\n\n 3 O! holy and sweet its rest shall be there!\n Free for ever from sin, and from sorrow and care;\n And the loud hallelujahs of angels shall rise,\n To welcome the soul to its home in the skies!\n Home, home! home of the soul!\n The bosom of God is the home of the soul!\n\n\n1167 P. M.\n Ever-green mountains.\n\n There's a land far away, 'mid the stars, we are told,\n Where they know not the sorrows of time,\n Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold,\n And where life is a treasure sublime;\n 'Tis the land of our God--'tis the home of the soul,\n Where the ages of splendor eternally roll:\n Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal,\n On the ever-green mountains of life.\n\n 2 Here our gaze can not soar to that beautiful land,\n But our visions have told of its bliss,\n And our souls by the gale from its gardens are fanned,\n When we faint in the deserts of this;\n And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose,\n When our spirits were torn with temptation and woes,\n And we've drank from the tide of the river that flows\n From the ever-green mountains of life.\n\n 3 O the stars never tread the blue heavens by night,\n But we think where the ransomed have trod,\n And the day never smiles from his palace of light,\n But we feel the bright smiles of our God.\n We are traveling homeward thro' changes and gloom,\n To a kingdom where pleasures unchangingly bloom;\n And our guide is the glory that shines thro' the tomb\n From the ever-green mountains of life.\n\n\n1168 P. M.\n Within the vail.\n Heb. 6:19.\n\n Upon the frontier of this shadowy land\n We, pilgrims of eternal sorrow, stand:\n What realm lies forward, with its happier store\n Of forests green and deep,\n Of valleys hushed in sleep,\n And lakes most peaceful? 'Tis the land of\n Evermore.\n\n 2 Very far off its marble cities seem--\n Very far off--beyond our sensual dream--\n Its woods, unruffled by the wild wind's roar:\n Yet does the turbulent surge\n Howl on its very verge.\n One moment--and we breathe within the\n Evermore.\n\n 3 They whom we loved and lost so long ago,\n Dwell in those cities far from mortal woe--\n Haunt those fresh woodlands, whence sweet carrollings soar.\n Eternal peace have they:\n God wipes their tears away:\n They drink that river of life which flows for\n Evermore.\n\n 4 Thither we hasten through these regions dim,\n But, lo! the wide wings of the seraphim\n Shine in the sunset! On that joyous shore\n Our lightened hearts shall know\n The life of long ago:\n The sorrow-burdened path shall fade for\n Evermore.\n\n\n1169 10s.\n No night in heaven.\n\n No night shall be in heaven! no gathering gloom\n Shall o'er that glorious landscape ever come;\n No tears shall fall in sadness o'er those flowers\n That breathe their fragrance through celestial bowers.\n\n 2 No night shall be in heaven! no dreadful hour\n Of mental darkness, of the tempter's power--\n Across these skies no envious clouds shall roll,\n To dim the sunlight of the raptured soul.\n\n 3 No night shall be in heaven. Forbid to sleep,\n These eyes no more their mournful vigils keep;\n Their fountains dried--their tears all wiped away--\n They gaze undazzled on eternal day.\n\n 4 No night shall be in heaven--no sorrow's reign;\n No secret anguish, no corporeal pain;\n No shivering limbs, no burning fever there;\n No soul's eclipse, no winter of despair.\n\n 5 No night shall be in heaven, but endless noon--\n No fast declining sun, no waning moon:\n But there the Lamb shall yield perpetual light,\n 'Mid pastures green, and waters ever bright.\n\n\n\n\n HOME--THE FAMILY.\n\n\n1170 L. M.\n I will make there an altar unto God.\n Gen. 35:3.\n\n Thou sovereign Lord of earth and skies,\n Supremely good, supremely wise;\n Fix thou the place of our abode;\n But may we still live near to God.\n\n 2 Where'er our dwelling shall be found,\n We will thy throne of grace surround;\n An altar to thy name will raise,\n With sacrifice of prayer and praise.\n\n 3 With faith and with devotion, Lord!\n Teach us each day to hear thy word:\n Grant us thy light to learn thy will,\n And strength our duties to fulfill.\n\n 4 Our circles with thy presence bless;\n Keep out each root of bitterness;\n And may, to each, the last remove\n Be to the mansions of thy love.\n\n\n1171 C. M.\n The happy home.\n\n Happy the home, when God is there,\n And love fills every breast;\n Where one their wish, and one their prayer,\n And one their heavenly rest.\n\n 2 Happy the home, where Jesus' name\n Is sweet to every ear;\n Where children early lisp his fame\n And parents hold him dear.\n\n 3 Happy the home where prayer is heard,\n And praise is wont to rise;\n Where parents love the sacred word,\n And live but for the skies.\n\n 4 Lord! let us in our homes agree,\n This blessed peace to gain;\n Unite our hearts in love to thee,\n And love to all will reign.\n\n\n1172 C. M. D.\n My mother's Bible.\n\n This book is all that's left me now,\n Tears will unbidden start,\n With faltering heart and throbbing brow,\n I press it to my heart.\n For many generations past,\n Here is our family tree;\n My mother's hand this Bible clasped;\n She dying gave it me.\n\n 2 Ah! well do I remember those\n Whose name these records bear;\n Who round the hearth-stone used to close,\n After the evening prayer,\n And tell of what those pages said,\n In terms my heart would thrill!\n Though they are with the silent dead,\n Here are they living still.\n\n 3 My father read this holy book\n To brothers, sisters dear;\n How calm was my poor mother's look,\n Who leaned God's word to hear.\n Her angel face--I see it yet!\n What thronging memories come!\n Again that little group is met,\n Within the walls of home.\n\n 4 Thou truest friend man ever knew,\n Thy constancy I've tried;\n Where all were false, I found thee true--\n My counselor and guide.\n The mines of earth no treasures give,\n That could this volume buy;\n In teaching me the way to live,\n It taught me how to die.\n\n\n1173 S. M.\n As for me and my house, etc.\n Josh. 24:15.\n\n In all my ways, O God!\n I would acknowledge thee;\n And seek to keep my heart and house\n From all pollution free.\n\n 2 Where'er I have a tent,\n An altar will I raise;\n And thither my oblations bring\n Of humble prayer and praise.\n\n 3 Could I my wish obtain,\n My household, Lord, should be\n Devoted to thyself alone,\n A nursery for thee.\n\n\n1174 H. M.\n A birth-day hymn.\n\n God of my life, to thee\n My cheerful soul I raise,\n Thy goodness bade me be,\n And still prolongs my days:\n I see my natal hour return,\n And bless the day that I was born.\n\n 2 Though but a child of earth,\n I glorify thy name,\n From whom alone my birth,\n And all my blessing came;\n Creating and preserving grace\n Let all that is within me praise.\n\n 3 My soul, and all its powers,\n Thine, wholly thine shall be;\n All, all my happy hours\n I consecrate to thee;\n Whate'er I have, whate'er I am,\n Shall magnify my Maker's name.\n\n 4 Long as I live beneath,\n To thee O let me live,\n To thee my every breath\n In thanks and blessings give;\n Me to thine image, Lord, restore,\n And I shall praise thee evermore.\n\n\n1175 8s & 7s.\n For thy name's sake, lead me etc.\n Psalm 31:3.\n\n Gently, Lord, O gently lead us\n Through this gloomy vale of tears,\n Through the changes thou'st decreed us,\n Till our last great change appears.\n O! refresh us with thy blessing,\n O! refresh us with thy grace,\n May thy mercies never ceasing,\n Fit us for thy dwelling place.\n\n 2 When temptation's darts assail us,\n When in devious paths we stray,\n Let thy goodness never fail us,\n Lead us in thy perfect way.\n O! refresh us with thy blessing, etc.\n\n 3 In the hour of pain and anguish,\n In the hour when death draws near,\n Suffer not our hearts to languish,\n Suffer not our souls to fear.\n O! refresh us with thy blessing, etc.\n\n 4 When this mortal life is ended,\n Bid us in thine arms to rest,\n Till by angel bands attended,\n We awake among the blest.\n O! refresh us with thy blessing, etc.\n\n 5 Then, O! crown us with thy blessing,\n Through the triumphs of thy grace;\n Then shall praises never ceasing,\n Echo through thy dwelling place.\n O! refresh us with thy blessing, etc.\n\n\n\n\n MORNING HYMNS.\n\n\n1176 L. M.\n They are new every morning.\n Lam. 3:23.\n\n New every morning is the love\n Our wakening and uprising prove;\n Through sleep and darkness safely brought,\n Restored to life, and power, and thought.\n\n 2 New mercies, each returning day,\n Hover around us while we pray:\n New perils past, new sins forgiven,\n New thoughts of God, new hopes of heaven.\n\n 3 Old friends, old scenes will lovelier be\n As more of heaven in each we see;\n Some softening gleam of love and prayer\n Shall dawn on every cross and care.\n\n 4 Only, O Lord, in thy dear love,\n Fit us for perfect rest above,\n And keep us this, and every day,\n To live more nearly as we pray.\n\n\n1177 L. M.\n Be thou their arm every morning.\n Isaiah 33:2.\n\n Lord of eternal truth and might!\n Ruler of nature's changing scheme!\n Who dost bring forth the morning light,\n And temper noon's effulgent beam:\n\n 2 Quench thou in us the flames of strife,\n And bid the heat of passion cease;\n From perils guard our feeble life,\n And keep our souls in perfect peace.\n\n\n1178 L. M.\n I have set the Lord always before me.\n Psalm 16:8.\n\n Forth in thy name, O Lord! I go,\n My daily labors to pursue;\n Thee, only thee, resolved to know\n In all I think, or speak, or do.\n\n 2 Thee will I set at my right hand,\n Whose eyes mine inmost substance see,\n And labor on at thy command,\n And offer all my works to thee.\n\n 3 For thee delightfully employ\n Whate'er thy bounteous grace hath given,\n And run my course with constant joy,\n And closely walk with thee to heaven.\n\n\n1179 L. M.\n Be thou in the fear of the Lord, etc.\n Prov. 23:17.\n\n God of the morning, at whose voice\n The cheerful sun makes haste to rise,\n And, like a giant, doth rejoice\n To run his journey through the skies!\n\n 2 O, like the sun may I fulfill\n The appointed duties of the day;\n With ready mind, and active will,\n March on and keep my heavenly way.\n\n\n1180 L. M.\n Burn thereon sweet incense every morning.\n Exodus 30:7.\n\n I praise thy name, O God of Light,\n For rest and safety through the night;\n Beneath thy wing securely kept,\n I closed my eyes and sweetly slept.\n\n 2 Redeemed from weariness, I rise\n To greet the light with cheerful eyes;\n And with the birds on joyful wing,\n My soul would rise, and sweetly sing.\n\n 3 I thank thee, Lord, for all thy care,\n For all the blessings that I share--\n Life, reason, health, and home, and friends,\n And every gift thy goodness sends.\n\n 4 O let me never, never cease\n To cherish trust and thankfulness:\n From thee, thou Maker of my frame,\n Each undeserved blessing came.\n\n 5 As numberless as stars of heaven,\n Are the rich bounties thou hast given;\n And fresh as dews, and sweet as flowers,\n The love that smiles on all my hours.\n\n 6 O let me to thy altar bring\n A pure and grateful offering;\n And let my thanks, as incense, rise\n In Christ, a pleasing sacrifice.\n\n\n1181 L. M.\n A morning invocation.\n\n Awake, my soul! and with the sun\n Thy daily course of duty run;\n Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise\n To pay thy morning sacrifice.\n\n 2 Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart!\n And with the angels bear thy part,\n Who, all night long, unwearied sing\n Glory to the eternal King.\n\n 3 Glory to thee, who safe hast kept,\n And hast refreshed me, while I slept:\n Grant, Lord! when I from death shall wake,\n I may of endless life partake.\n\n 4 Lord! I my vows to thee renew;\n Scatter my sins as morning dew;\n Guard my first springs of thought and will,\n And with thyself my spirit fill.\n\n\n1182 C. M.\n He giveth his beloved sleep.\n Psalm 127:2.\n\n Lord of my life! O may thy praise\n Employ my noblest powers,\n Whose goodness lengthens out my days\n And fills the circling hours.\n\n 2 While many spent the night in sighs,\n And restless pains and woes,\n In gentle sleep I closed my eyes,\n And undisturbed repose.\n\n 3 O let the same Almighty care\n My waking hours attend;\n From every danger, every snare,\n My heedless steps defend.\n\n 4 Smile on my minutes as they roll,\n And guide my future days;\n And let thy goodness fill my soul\n With gratitude and praise.\n\n\n1183 C. M.\n In the morning, etc.\n Psalm 5:3.\n\n To thee let my first offerings rise,\n Whose sun creates the day;\n Swift as his gladdening influence flies,\n And spotless as his ray.\n\n 2 This day thy favoring hand be nigh,\n So oft vouchsafed before:\n Still may it lead, protect, supply,\n And I that hand adore.\n\n 3 If bliss thy providence impart,\n For which, resigned, I pray;\n Give me to feel the grateful heart,\n And thus thy love repay.\n\n 4 Afflictions should thy love intend,\n As vice or folly's cure,\n Patient to gain that glorious end,\n May I the means endure!\n\n 5 Be this and every future day\n Still wiser than the past,\n And when I all my life survey,\n May grace sustain at last.\n\n\n1184 S. M.\n A morning without clouds.\n 2 Sam. 23:4.\n\n See how the rising sun\n Pursues his shining way;\n And wide proclaims his Maker's praise,\n With every brightening ray.\n\n 2 Thus would my rising soul\n Its heavenly parent sing;\n And to its great Original\n An humble tribute bring.\n\n 3 O may I grateful use\n The blessings I receive;\n And ne'er in thought, in word, or deed,\n His holy Spirit grieve.\n\n 4 May all my days and powers\n Be sacred, Lord, to thee:\n And in thy presence may I spend\n A blest eternity!\n\n\n1185 S. M.\n I will sing of thy mercy in the morning.\n Psalm 59:16.\n\n The morning light returns,\n The sun begins to shine;\n Now let our souls in haste arise,\n To run the race divine.\n\n 2 We praise the Father's love,\n Who kept us through the night;\n O may his kindness be our song,\n His pleasure our delight.\n\n 3 While passing through this day,\n Lord, we implore thy care,\n To guide us on the heavenly way,\n And guard from every snare.\n\n 4 And when our life shall close,\n O may it be in peace;\n May we lie down in sweet repose,\n And wake in endless bliss.\n\n\n1186 7s.\n My voice shalt thou hear in the morning.\n Psalm 5:3.\n\n Now the shades of night are gone;\n Now the morning light is come;\n Lord, may I be thine to-day--\n Drive the shades of sin away.\n\n 2 Fill my soul with heavenly light,\n Banish doubt, and cleanse my sight;\n In thy service, Lord, to-day,\n Help me labor, help me pray.\n\n 3 Keep my haughty passions bound--\n Save me from my foes around;\n Going out and coming in,\n Keep me safe from every sin.\n\n 4 When my work of life is past,\n O! receive me then at last!\n When I reach the heavenly shore,\n Night of sin will be no more.\n\n\n1187 7s.\n Psalm 3:5.\n\n Thou that dost my life prolong,\n Kindly aid my morning song;\n Thankful let my offerings rise\n To the God that rules the skies.\n\n 2 Gently, with the dawning ray,\n On my soul thy beams display;\n Sweeter than the smiling morn,\n Let thy cheering light return.\n\n\n1188 7s & 3s.\n The Lord God is a Sun.\n Psalm 84:11.\n\n Jesus, Sun of Righteousness,\n Brightest beam of love divine,\n With the early morning rays\n Do thou on our darkness shine,\n And dispel with purest light\n All our night!\n\n 2 Like the sun's reviving ray,\n May thy love, with tender glow,\n All our coldness melt away,\n Warm and cheer us forth to go,\n Gladly serve thee and obey\n All the day!\n\n 3 Thou, our only Life and Guide!\n Never leave us nor forsake:\n In thy light may we abide\n Till the eternal morning break--\n Moving on to Zion's hill\n Homeward still!\n\n\n\n\n EVENING HYMNS.\n\n\n1189 L. M.\n Hide me under the shadow of thy wings.\n Psalm 17:8.\n\n Glory to thee, my God, this night,\n For all the blessings of the light;\n Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,\n Beneath thine own almighty wings.\n\n 2 Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,\n The ill which I this day have done;\n That with the world, myself, and thee,\n I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.\n\n 3 Teach me to live, that I may dread\n The grave as little as my bed;\n Teach me to die, that so I may\n Rise glorious at thy Judgment-day.\n\n 4 O let my soul on thee repose,\n And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close;\n Sleep, which shall me more vigorous make,\n To serve my God when I awake.\n\n 5 Be thou my guardian while I sleep,\n Thy watchful station near me keep;\n My heart with love celestial fill,\n And guard me from the approach of ill.\n\n 6 Lord, let my soul for ever share\n The bliss of thy paternal care:\n 'Tis heaven on earth, 'tis heaven above,\n To see thy face and sing thy love!\n\n\n1190 L. M.\n I will lay me down in peace.\n Psalm 4:8.\n\n Thus far the Lord has led me on;\n Thus far his power prolongs my days;\n And every evening shall make known,\n Some fresh memorial of his grace.\n\n 2 Much of my time has run to waste,\n And I, perhaps, am near my home;\n But he forgives my follies past;\n He gives me strength for days to come.\n\n 3 I lay my body down to sleep;\n Peace is the pillow for my head;\n While well-appointed angels keep\n Their watchful stations round my bed.\n\n 4 Thus, when the night of death shall come,\n My flesh shall rest beneath the ground,\n And wait thy voice to rouse my tomb,\n With sweet salvation in the sound.\n\n\n1191 C. M.\n The angel of the Lord, etc.\n Psalm 34:7.\n\n And now another day is gone,\n I'll sing my Maker's praise;\n My comforts every hour make known\n His providence and grace.\n\n 2 I lay my body down to sleep;\n Let angels guard my head;\n And through the hours of darkness keep\n Their watch around my bed.\n\n 3 With cheerful heart I close my eyes,\n Since thou wilt not remove;\n And in the morning let me rise,\n Rejoicing in thy love.\n\n\n1192 C. M.\n Let my prayer come before thee, etc.\n Psalm 141:2.\n\n Blest Sovereign, let my evening song\n Like holy incense rise;\n Assist the offerings of my tongue\n To reach the lofty skies.\n\n 2 Through all the dangers of the day,\n Thy hand was still my guard;\n And still, to drive my wants away,\n Thy mercy stood prepared.\n\n 3 Perpetual blessings from above\n Encompass me around;\n But O how few returns of love\n Hath my Creator found!\n\n 4 Lord, with this guilty heart of mine,\n To thy dear cross I flee;\n And to thy grace my soul resign,\n To be renewed by thee.\n\n\n1193 C. M.\n The day goeth away.\n Jer. 6:4.\n\n Hail, tranquil hour of closing day!\n Begone, disturbing care;\n And look, my soul, from earth away,\n To him who heareth prayer.\n\n 2 How sweet the tear of penitence,\n Before his throne of grace,\n While, to the contrite spirit's sense,\n He shows his smiling face.\n\n 3 How sweet, through long remembered years,\n His mercies to recall;\n And, pressed with wants, and griefs, and fears,\n To trust his love for all.\n\n 4 How sweet to look, in thoughtful hope,\n Beyond this fading sky,\n And hear him call his children up\n To his fair home on high.\n\n 5 Calmly the day forsakes our heaven,\n To dawn beyond the west;\n So let my soul, in life's last even,\n Retire to glorious rest.\n\n\n1194 C. M. D.\n The shadows of the evening, etc.\n Jer. 6:4.\n\n The shadows of the evening hours\n Fall from the darkening sky;\n Upon the fragrance of the flowers\n The dews of evening lie:\n Before thy throne, O Lord of heaven,\n We kneel at close of day;\n Look on thy children from on high,\n And hear us while we pray.\n\n 2 The sorrows of thy servants, Lord,\n O, do not thou despise;\n But let the incense of our prayers\n Before thy mercy rise;\n The brightness of the coming night\n Upon the darkness rolls:\n With hopes of future glory chase\n The shadows on our souls.\n\n 3 Slowly the rays of daylight fade;\n So fade within our heart\n The hopes in earthly love and joy,\n That one by one depart;\n Slowly the bright stars, one by one,\n Within the heavens shine;\n Give us, O Lord, fresh hopes in heaven\n And trust in things divine.\n\n 4 Let peace, O Lord, thy peace, O God,\n Upon our souls descend;\n From midnight fears and perils, thou\n Our trembling hearts defend;\n Give us a respite from our toil,\n Calm and subdue our woes;\n Through the long day we suffer, Lord,\n O, give us now repose!\n\n\n1195 S. M.\n Now is our salvation nearer, etc.\n Rom. 13:11.\n\n A sweetly solemn thought,\n Comes to me o'er and o'er;\n To-day, I'm nearer to my home\n Than e'er I've been before.\n\n 2 Nearer my Father's house,\n Where many mansions be,\n And nearer to the great white throne,\n Nearer the crystal sea;\n\n 3 Nearer the bound of life,\n Where falls my burden down;\n Nearer to where I leave my cross,\n And where I gain my crown.\n\n 4 Saviour, confirm my trust,\n Complete my faith in thee;\n And let me feel as if I stood\n Close on eternity;\n\n 5 Feel as if now my feet\n Were slipping o'er the brink;\n For I may now be nearer home,\n Much nearer than I think.\n\n\n1196 S. M.\n He that keepest Israel shall not sleep.\n Psalm 121:4.\n\n Another day is past,\n The hours for ever fled;\n And time is bearing me away,\n To mingle with the dead.\n\n 2 My mind in perfect peace\n My Father's care shall keep;\n I yield to gentle slumber now,\n For thou canst never sleep.\n\n 3 How blessed, Lord, are they,\n On thee securely stayed!\n Nor shall they be in life alarmed,\n Nor be in death dismayed.\n\n\n1197 S. M.\n The day is past and gone.\n\n The day is past and gone,\n The evening shades appear;\n O may we all remember well\n The night of death draws near.\n\n 2 We lay our garments by,\n Upon our beds to rest;\n So death will soon disrobe us all\n Of what we now possess.\n\n 3 Lord, keep us safe this night,\n Secure from every fear,\n Beneath the pinions of thy love,\n Till morning light appear.\n\n 4 And when we early rise,\n To view the unwearied sun,\n May we set out to win the prize\n And after glory run.\n\n 5 And when our days are past,\n And we from time remove,\n O may we in thy bosom rest--\n The bosom of thy love.\n\n\n1198 7s, 6 lines.\n The evening sacrifice.\n Psalm 141:2.\n\n Now from labor and from care\n Evening shades have set me free,\n In the work of praise and prayer,\n Lord, I would converse with thee;\n O, behold me from above,\n Fill me with a Saviour's love.\n\n 2 For the blessings of this day,\n For the mercies of this hour,\n For the gospel's cheering ray,\n For the Spirit's quickening power,\n Grateful notes to thee I raise;\n Lord! accept my song of praise.\n\n\n1199 7s.\n Softly, now, the light of day.\n\n Softly, now, the light of day\n Fades upon my sight away;\n Free from care, from labor free,\n Lord! I would commune with thee.\n\n 2 Soon, for me, the light of day\n Shall for ever pass away;\n Then, from sin and sorrow free,\n Take me, Lord! to dwell with thee.\n\n\n1200 7s & 6s.\n Twilight.\n\n The mellow eve is gliding\n Serenely down the west;\n So, every care subsiding,\n My soul would sink to rest.\n\n 2 The woodland hum is ringing\n The daylight's gentle close;\n May angels round me, singing,\n Thus hymn my last repose.\n\n 3 The evening star has lighted\n Her crystal lamp on high;\n So, when in death benighted,\n May hope illume the sky.\n\n 4 In golden splendor dawning,\n The morrow's light shall break;\n O, on the last bright morning\n May I in glory wake!\n\n\n1201 P. M.\n Evening aspiration.\n\n God that madest earth and heaven,\n Darkness and light!\n Who the day for toil hast given,\n For rest the night!\n May thine angel guards defend us,\n Slumber sweet thy mercy send us,\n Holy dreams and hopes attend us,\n This livelong night!\n\n\n1202 8s & 7s.\n Saviour! breathe an evening blessing.\n\n Saviour! breathe an evening blessing,\n Ere repose our eyelids seal;\n Sin and want we come confessing;\n Thou canst save, and thou canst heal.\n\n 2 Though destruction walk around us,\n Though the arrows past us fly,\n Angel-guards from thee surround us--\n We are safe if thou art nigh.\n\n 3 Though the night be dark and dreary,\n Darkness can not hide from thee:\n Thou art he who, never weary,\n Watcheth where thy people be.\n\n 4 Should swift death this night o'ertake us,\n And our couch become our tomb,\n May the morn in heaven awake us,\n Clad in bright and deathless bloom.\n\n\n1203 8s & 7s.\n Abide with us.\n\n Tarry with me, O my Saviour,\n For the day is passing by;\n See the shades of evening gather,\n And the night is drawing nigh.\n\n 2 Many friends were gathered round me\n In the bright days of the past;\n But the grave has closed above them,\n And I linger here at last.\n\n 3 Deeper, deeper grow the shadows;\n Paler now the glowing west;\n Swift the night of death advances;\n Shall it be the night of rest?\n\n 4 Feeble, trembling, fainting, dying,\n Lord, I cast myself on thee;\n Tarry with me through the darkness!\n While I sleep, still watch by me.\n\n 5 Tarry with me, O my Saviour!\n Lay my head upon thy breast\n Till the morning; then awake me--\n Morning of eternal rest!\n\n\n1204 8s & 7s.\n While I was musing.\n Psalm 39:3.\n\n Silently the shades of evening\n Gather round my lowly door;\n Silently they bring before me\n Faces I shall see no more.\n\n 2 O! the lost, the unforgotten,\n Though the world be oft forgot;\n O! the shrouded and the lonely--\n In our hearts they perish not.\n\n 3 Living in the silent hours,\n Where our spirits only blend,\n They, unlinked with earthly trouble,\n We, still hoping for its end.\n\n 4 How such holy memories cluster,\n Like the stars when storms are past;\n Pointing up to that far heaven\n We may hope to gain at last.\n\n\n1205 8s & 7s.\n Fleeting moments.\n\n Faintly flow, thou falling river,\n Like a dream that dies away;\n Down to ocean gliding ever,\n Keep thy calm, unruffled way:\n Time with such a silent motion,\n Floats along on wings of air,\n To eternity's dark ocean,\n Burying all its treasure there.\n\n 2 Roses bloom and then they wither;\n Cheeks are bright, then fade and die;\n Shapes of light are wafted hither,\n Then, like visions, hurry by:\n Quick as clouds at evening driven\n O'er the many- west,\n Years are bearing us to heaven--\n Home of happiness and rest.\n\n\n1206 8s, 7s & 7s.\n Sweet it is to trust in thee.\n\n Through the day thy love hath spared us,\n Wearied, we lie down to rest;\n Through the silent watches guard us,\n Let no foe our peace molest.\n Father! thou our guardian be;\n Sweet it is to trust in thee.\n\n 2 Wandering in the land of strangers,\n Dwelling in the midst of foes,\n Us and ours preserve from dangers:\n In thy love we all repose.\n Father! thou our guardian be;\n Sweet it is to trust in thee.\n\n\n1207 8s & 7s.\n A child's prayer.\n\n Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me;\n Bless thy little lamb to-night:\n Through the darkness be thou near me;\n Keep me safe till morning light.\n\n 2 All this day thy hand has led me,\n And I thank thee for thy care;\n Thou hast clothed me, warmed me, fed me,\n Listen to my evening prayer!\n\n 3 May my sins be all forgiven;\n Bless the friends I love so well;\n Take me, when I die, to heaven,\n Happy there with thee to dwell.\n\n\n1208 10s & 6s.\n At peace with all the world, etc.\n\n The day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep,\n My weary spirit seeks repose in thine;\n Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep\n This little life of mine.\n\n 2 With loving kindness curtain thou my bed,\n And cool in rest my burning pilgrim feet;\n Thy pardon be the pillow for my head--\n So shall my sleep be sweet.\n\n 3 At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and thee,\n No fears my soul's unwavering faith can shake;\n All's well, whichever side the grave for me\n The morning light may break!\n\n\n1209 10s & 4s.\n I will sing of the mercies, etc.\n\n Father supreme! thou high and holy One!\n To thee we bow;\n Now, when the burden of the day is gone,\n Devoutly, now.\n\n 2 From age to age unchanging, still the same\n All-good thou art;\n Hallowed for ever be thy reverend name\n In every heart!\n\n 3 When the glad morn upon the hills was spread,\n Thy smile was there;\n Now, as the darkness gathers overhead,\n We feel thy care.\n\n 4 Night spreads her shade upon another day\n For ever past;\n So, o'er our faults, thy love, we humbly pray,\n A vail may cast.\n\n 5 Silence and calm, o'er hearts by earth distrest,\n Now sweetly steal;\n So every fear that struggles in the breast\n Shall faith conceal.\n\n 6 Thou, through the dark, wilt watch above our sleep\n With eye of love;\n And thou wilt wake us, when the sunbeams leap\n The hills above.\n\n 7 O, may each heart its gratitude express\n As life expands,\n And find the triumph of its happiness\n In thy commands!\n\n\n1210 P. M.\n Fading, still fading.\n\n Fading, still fading, the last beam is shining;\n Father in heaven! the day is declining;\n Safety and innocence flee with the light,\n Temptation and danger walk forth with the night;\n From the fall of the shade till the morning bells chime,\n Shield us from danger and keep us from crime!\n Father! have mercy, thro' Jesus Christ our Lord! Amen!\n\n 2 Father in heaven! O, hear when we call,\n Hear for Christ's sake, who is Saviour of all!\n Feeble and fainting, we trust in thy might;\n In doubting and darkness, thy love be our light!\n Let us sleep on thy breast while the night taper burns,\n Wake in thy arms when morning returns.\n Father! have mercy, thro' Jesus Christ our Lord! Amen!\n\n\n\n\n YOUTH AND AGE.\n\n\n1211 C. M.\n By cool Siloam's shady rill.\n\n By cool Siloam's shady rill\n How fair the lily grows!\n How sweet the breath, beneath the hill,\n Of Sharon's dewy rose!\n\n 2 Lo! such the child, whose early feet\n The paths of peace have trod,\n Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,\n Is upward drawn to God.\n\n 3 By cool Siloam's shady rill\n The lily must decay;\n The rose that blooms beneath the hill,\n Must shortly fade away.\n\n 4 And soon, too soon, the wintry hour\n Of man's maturer age,\n Will shake the soul with sorrow's power,\n And stormy passions rage.\n\n 5 O, thou who givest life and breath,\n We seek thy grace alone,\n In childhood, manhood, age and death,\n To keep us still thine own.\n\n\n1212 C. M.\n A child' sprayer.\n\n Dear Jesus! ever at my side,\n How loving must thou be,\n To leave thy home in heaven, to guard\n A little child like me.\n\n 2 Thy beautiful and shining face\n I see not, though so near;\n The sweetness of thy soft low voice\n I am too deaf to hear.\n\n 3 I can not feel thee touch my hand\n With pressure light and mild,\n To check me, as my mother did\n When I was but a child.\n\n 4 But I have felt thee in my thoughts,\n Fighting with sin for me;\n And when my heart loves God, I know\n The sweetness is from thee.\n\n 5 And when, dear Saviour! I kneel down,\n Morning and night, to prayer,\n Something there is within my heart\n Which tells me thou art there.\n\n 6 Yes! when I pray, thou prayest too--\n Thy prayer is all for me;\n But when I sleep, thou sleepest not,\n But watchest patiently.\n\n\n1213 C. M.\n Out of the mouth of babes.\n Psalm 8:2.\n\n Come, let us join the hosts above,\n Now in our youngest days,\n Remember our Creator's love,\n And lisp our Father's praise.\n\n 2 His majesty will not despise\n The day of feeble things;\n Grateful the songs of children rise,\n And please the King of kings.\n\n 3 He loves to be remembered thus,\n And honored for his grace;\n Out of the mouth of babes likes us,\n His wisdom perfects praise.\n\n 4 Glory to God, and praise, and power,\n Honor and thanks be given!\n Children and cherubim adore\n The Lord of earth and heaven.\n\n\n1214 C. M.\n Lead us not into temptation.\n Matt. 6:13.\n\n While in the slippery paths of youth,\n I run secure and free!\n O let thy blessed word of truth,\n My guide and counsel be.\n\n 2 If near the tempter's wily snare\n In heedlessness I tread;\n O be thy kind protecting care,\n To save me overspread.\n\n 3 Thus o'er my life let mercy move,\n And guide my feet the way\n That leads me to thy throne above--\n To everlasting day.\n\n\n1215 C. M. D.\n Remember thy Creator, etc.\n Eccl. 12:1.\n\n Ye joyous ones, upon whose brow\n The light of youth is shed,\n O'er whose glad path life's early flowers\n In glowing beauty spread;\n Forget not him whose love hath poured\n Around that golden light,\n And tinged those opening buds of hope\n With hues so softly bright.\n\n 2 Thou tempted one, just entering\n Upon enchanted ground,\n Ten thousand snares are spread for thee,\n Ten thousand foes surround:\n A dark and a deceitful band,\n Upon thy path they lower;\n Trust not thine own unaided strength\n To save thee from their power.\n\n 3 Thou whose yet bright and joyous eye\n May soon be dimmed with tears,\n To whom the hours of bitterness\n Must come in coming years;\n Teach early thy confiding eye\n To pierce the cloudy screen,\n To look above the storms, where all\n Is holy and serene.\n\n\n1216 C. M.\n Happy is the man that findeth wisdom.\n Prov. 3:13.\n\n O happy is the man who hears\n Instruction's warning voice;\n And who celestial wisdom makes\n His early, only choice.\n\n 2 For she has treasure greater far\n Than east or west unfold,\n And her reward is more secure\n Than all the gain of gold.\n\n 3 In her right hand she holds to view\n A length of happy years;\n And in her left the prize of fame\n And honor bright appears.\n\n 4 She guides our youth with innocence\n In pleasure's path to tread;\n A crown of glory she bestows\n Upon the hoary head.\n\n 5 According as her labors rise,\n So her rewards increase;\n Her ways are ways of pleasantness,\n And all her paths are peace.\n\n\n1217 S. M.\n The Child Jesus.\n Luke 2:27.\n\n Hail, gracious, heavenly Prince!\n To thee let children fly:\n And on thy kindest providence,\n O may we all rely.\n\n 2 Jesus will take the young\n Beneath his special care;\n And he will keep their youthful days\n From every woe and snare.\n\n 3 He knows their tender frame,\n Nor will their youth contemn;\n For he a little child became,\n To love and pity them.\n\n 4 Nor does he now forget\n His youthful days on earth:\n Nor would we ever cease our praise\n For the Redeemer's birth.\n\n\n1218 8s & 7s.\n From my youth up.\n Matt. 19:20.\n\n Lord, a little band, and lowly,\n We are come to sing to thee;\n Thou art great, and high, and holy,\n O how solemn should we be!\n\n 2 Fill our hearts with thoughts of Jesus,\n And of heaven, where he is gone;\n And let nothing ever please us\n He would grieve to look upon.\n\n 3 For we know the Lord of glory\n Always sees what children do,\n And is writing now the story\n Of our thoughts and actions too.\n\n 4 Let our sins be all forgiven;\n Make us fear whate'er is wrong;\n Lead us on our way to heaven,\n There to sing a nobler song.\n\n\n1219 8s & 7s.\n Give me thy heart.\n\n Take my heart, O Father! mold it\n In obedience to thy will;\n And as ripening years unfold it,\n Keep it true and childlike still.\n\n 2 Father, keep it pure and lowly,\n Strong and brave, yet free from strife,\n Turning from the paths unholy\n Of a vain or sinful life.\n\n 3 Ever let thy might surround it;\n Strengthen it with power divine;\n Till thy cords of love have bound it,\n Father, wholly unto thine.\n\n\n1220 11s & 8s.\n I think when I read that sweet story, etc.\n\n I think when I read that sweet story of old,\n When Jesus was here among men,\n How he called little children as lambs to his fold,\n I should like to have been with them then.\n I wish that his hands had been placed on my head,\n That his arm had been thrown around me,\n And that I might have seen his kind look when he said,\n \"Let the little ones come unto me.\"\n\n 2 Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go,\n And ask for a share in his love;\n And if I thus earnestly seek him below,\n I shall see him and hear him above--\n In that beautiful place he is gone to prepare\n For all who are washed and forgiven;\n And many dear children are gathering there--\n \"For of such is the kingdom of heaven.\"\n\n 3 But thousands and thousands who wander and fall,\n Never heard of that heavenly home;\n I should like them to know there is room for them all,\n And that Jesus has bid them to come;\n I long for the joy of that glorious time,\n The sweetest, and brightest, and best,\n When the dear little children of every clime\n Shall crowd to his arms and be blessed.\n\n\n1221 L. M. 6 lines.\n Thy sun shall no more go down.\n Isaiah 50:20.\n\n At evening time, when day is done,\n Life's little day is near its close,\n And all the glare and heat are gone,\n And gentle dews foretell repose--\n To crown my faith before the night,\n At evening time let there be light.\n\n 2 At evening time when labor's past,\n Though storms and toils have marred my day,\n Mercy has tempered every blast,\n And love and hope have cheered the way:\n Now let the parting hour be bright;\n At evening time let there be light.\n\n 3 God doth send light at evening time,\n And bid the fears, the doubtings, flee.\n I trust his promises sublime;\n His glory now is risen on me;\n His full salvation is in sight;\n At evening time there now is light.\n\n\n1222 C. M. D.\n At evening there shall be light.\n Zech. 14:7.\n\n Our pathway oft is wet with tears,\n Our sky with clouds o'ercast,\n And worldly cares and worldly fears\n Go with us to the last;--\n Not to the last! God's word hath said,\n Could we but read aright:\n O pilgrim! lift in hope thy head--\n At eve it shall be light!\n\n 2 Though earth-born shadows now may shroud\n Our toilsome path awhile,\n God's blessed word can part each cloud,\n And bid the sunshine smile.\n If we but trust in living faith,\n His love and power divine,\n Then, though our sun may set in death,\n His light shall round us shine.\n\n 3 When tempest-clouds are dark on high,\n His bow of love and peace\n Shines beauteous in the vaulted sky--\n A pledge that storms shall cease.\n Then keep we on with hope unchilled,\n By faith and not by sight,\n And we shall own his word fulfilled--\n At eve it shall be light.\n\n\n1223 C. M.\n When I am old--forsake me not.\n Psalm 71:18.\n\n God of my childhood and my youth,\n The Guide of all my days,\n I have declared thy heavenly truth,\n And told thy wondrous ways.\n\n 2 Wilt thou forsake my hoary hairs,\n And leave my fainting heart?\n Who shall sustain my sinking years,\n If God, my strength, depart?\n\n 3 Let me thy power and truth proclaim\n To the surviving age,\n And leave a savor of thy name\n When I shall quit the stage.\n\n 4 The land of silence and of death\n Attends my next remove;\n O, may these poor remains of breath\n Teach the wide world thy love.\n\n\n1224 C. H. M.\n Watch and pray.\n\n Go watch and pray; thou canst not tell\n How near thine hour may be;\n Thou canst not know how soon the bell\n May toll its notes for thee:\n Death's countless snares beset thy way;\n Frail child of dust, go watch and pray.\n\n 2 Fond youth, while free from blighting care,\n Does thy firm pulse beat high?\n Do hope's glad visions, bright and fair,\n Dilate before thine eye?\n Soon these must change, must pass away;\n Frail child of dust, go watch and pray.\n\n 3 Thou aged man, life's wintry storm\n Hath seared thy vernal bloom;\n With trembling limbs, and wasting form,\n Thou'rt bending o'er thy tomb;\n And can vain hope lead thee astray?\n Go, weary pilgrim, watch and pray.\n\n 4 Ambition, stop thy panting breath:\n Pride, sink thy lifted eye!\n Behold the caverns, dark with death,\n Before you open lie:\n The heavenly warning now obey;\n Ye sons of pride, go watch and pray.\n\n\n1225 C. P. M.\n Thou art my trust from my youth.\n Psalm 71:5.\n\n Thy mercy heard my infant prayer,\n Thy love, with all a mother's care,\n Sustained my childish days;\n Thy goodness watched my ripening youth,\n And formed my heart to love thy truth,\n And filled my lips with praise.\n\n 2 Then e'en in age and grief, thy name\n Shall still my languid heart inflame,\n And bow my faltering knee:\n O! yet this bosom feels the fire,\n This trembling hand and drooping lyre\n Have yet a strain for thee!\n\n 3 Yes! broken, tuneless, still, O Lord,\n This voice transported shall record\n Thy goodness, tried so long;\n Till, sinking slow, with calm decay,\n Its feeble murmurs melt away\n Into a seraph's song.\n\n\n1226 8s & 7s.\n Only waiting.\n\n Only waiting till the shadows\n Are a little longer grown;\n Only waiting till the glimmer\n Of the day's last beam is flown;\n Till the night of earth is faded\n From the heart once full of day;\n Till the stars of heaven are breaking\n Through the twilight soft and gray.\n\n 2 Only waiting till the reapers\n Have the last sheaf gathered home;\n For the summer time is faded,\n And the autumn winds have come.\n Quickly, reapers, gather quickly\n The last ripe hours of my heart,\n For the bloom of life is withered,\n And I hasten to depart.\n\n 3 Only waiting till the shadows\n Are a little longer grown;\n Only waiting till the glimmer\n Of the day's last beam is flown;\n Then, from out the gathered darkness,\n Holy, deathless stars shall rise,\n By whose light my soul shall gladly\n Tread its pathway to the skies.\n\n\n1227 10s.\n Abide with me.\n\n Abide with me! fast falls the eventide;\n The darkness thickens; Lord! with me abide!\n When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,\n Help of the helpless! O abide with me!\n\n 2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;\n Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;\n Change and decay in all around I see;\n O thou who changest not! abide with me.\n\n 3 I need thy presence every passing hour;\n What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?\n Who like thyself my guide and stay can be?\n Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me!\n\n 4 Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;\n Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies;\n Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;\n In life, in death, O Lord! abide with me.\n\n\n1228 11s & 10s.\n Come unto me.\n\n Come unto me, when shadows darkly gather,\n When the sad heart is weary and distrest,\n Seeking for comfort from your heavenly Father,\n Come unto me, and I will give you rest!\n\n 2 Ye who have mourned when the spring flowers were taken,\n When the ripe fruit fell richly to the ground,\n When the loved slept, in brighter homes to waken,\n Where their pale brows with spirit-wreaths are crowned.\n\n 3 Large are the mansions in thy Father's dwelling,\n Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim;\n Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling,\n Soft are the tones which raise the heavenly hymn.\n\n 4 There, like an Eden, blossoming in gladness,\n Bloom the fair flowers the earth too rudely pressed;\n Come unto me, all ye who droop in sadness,\n Come unto me, and I will give you rest.\n\n\n1229 8s & 7s.\n For old age.\n\n Gracious Source of every blessing!\n Guard our breast from anxious fears;\n Let us, each thy care possessing,\n Sink into the vale of years.\n\n 2 All our hopes on thee reclining,\n Peace companion of our way,\n May our sun, in smiles declining,\n Rise in everlasting day.\n\n\n\n\n TIMES AND SEASONS--SEED-TIME AND HARVEST.\n\n\n1230 L. M.\n Seed-time and harvest.\n\n Eternal Source of every joy,\n Well may thy praise our lips employ,\n While in thy temple we appear,\n Whose goodness crowns the circling year.\n\n 2 The flowery spring at thy command\n Embalms the air and paints the land;\n The summer rays with vigor shine,\n To raise the corn and cheer the vine.\n\n 3 Thy hand in autumn richly pours\n Through all our coasts redundant stores,\n And winters, softened by thy care,\n No more a face of horror wear.\n\n 4 Seasons and months, and weeks and days,\n Demand successive songs of praise;\n Still be the cheerful homage paid\n With opening light and evening shade!\n\n 5 O! may our more harmonious tongues\n In worlds unknown pursue the songs;\n And in those brighter courts adore,\n Where days and years revolve no more!\n\n\n1231 C. M.\n Psalm 147.\n\n With songs and honors sounding loud,\n Address the Lord on high;\n Over the heaven's he spreads his cloud,\n And waters vail the sky.\n\n 2 He sends his showers of blessings down\n To cheer the plains below;\n He makes the grass the mountains crown,\n And corn in valleys grow.\n\n 3 His steady counsels change the face\n Of the declining year;\n He bids the sun cut short his race,\n And wintery days appear.\n\n 4 His hoary frost, his fleecy snow,\n Descend and clothe the ground;\n The liquid streams forbear to flow,\n In icy fetters bound.\n\n 5 He sends his word, and melts the snow,\n The fields no longer mourn;\n He calls the warmer gales to blow,\n And bids the spring return.\n\n 6 The changing wind, the flying cloud,\n Obey his mighty word;\n With songs and honors sounding loud,\n Praise ye the sovereign Lord.\n\n\n1232 C. M.\n Thou crownest the year with thy goodness.\n Psalm 65:3.\n\n Fountain of life, and God of love!\n How rich thy bounties are!\n The rolling seasons, as they move,\n Proclaim thy constant care.\n\n 2 When in the bosom of the earth\n The sower hid the grain,\n Thy goodness marked its secret birth,\n And sent the early rain.\n\n 3 The spring's sweet influence, Lord, was thine,\n Its mild, refreshing showers;\n Thou gavest the ripening suns to shine,\n And summer's golden hours.\n\n 4 Thy quickening life, for ever near,\n Matured the swelling grain;\n The bounteous harvest crowns the year,\n And plenty fills the plain.\n\n 5 With thankful hearts we trace thy way\n Through all our smiling vales;\n Thou, by whose love, nor night nor day,\n Seed-time nor harvest, fails!\n\n\n1233 S. M.\n Psalm 126:6.\n\n The harvest dawn is near,\n The year delays not long;\n And he who sows with many a tear,\n Shall reap with many a song.\n\n 2 Sad to his toil he goes,\n His seed with weeping leaves;\n But he shall come, at twilight's close,\n And bring his golden sheaves.\n\n\n1234 6s & 4s.\n The God of harvest praise.\n\n The God of harvest praise;\n In loud thanksgiving raise\n Hand, heart and voice;\n The valleys smile and sing,\n Forests and mountains ring,\n The plains their tribute bring,\n The streams rejoice.\n\n 2 Yea, bless his holy name,\n And purest thanks proclaim\n Through all the earth;\n To glory in your lot\n Is duty--but be not\n God's benefits forgot,\n Amidst your mirth.\n\n 3 The God of harvest praise;\n Hands, hearts, and voices raise,\n With sweet accord:\n From field to garner throng,\n Bearing your sheaves along,\n And in your harvest song,\n Bless ye the Lord.\n\n\n1235 7s, 6 lines.\n The little hills rejoice on every side.\n Psalm 65:12.\n\n Praise, and thanks, and cheerful love,\n Rise from everything below,\n To the mighty One above,\n Who his wondrous love doth show:\n Praise him, each created thing!\n God, your Maker; God of spring!\n\n 2 Praise him, trees so lately bare;\n Praise him, fresh and new-born flowers;\n All ye creatures of the air,\n All ye soft-descending showers,\n Praise, with each awakening thing,\n God, your Maker; God of spring!\n\n 3 Praise him, man!--thy fitful heart\n Let this balmy season move\n To employ its noblest part,\n Gentlest mercy, sweetest love;\n Blessing, with each living thing,\n God, your Father; God of spring!\n\n\n1236 7s, double.\n Harvest-Home.\n\n Come, ye thankful people, come,\n Raise the song of Harvest-home!\n All is safely gathered in,\n Ere the winter-storms begin;\n God, our Maker, doth provide\n For our wants to be supplied;\n Come to God's own temple, come,\n Raise the song of Harvest-home!\n\n 2 We ourselves are God's own field,\n Fruit unto his praise to yield;\n Wheat and tares together sown,\n Unto joy our sorrow grown:\n First the blade, and then the ear,\n Then the full corn shall appear:\n Lord of harvest, grant that we\n Wholesome grain and pure may be!\n\n 3 For the Lord our God shall come,\n And shall take his harvest home!\n From his field shall purge away\n All that doth offend, that day;\n Give his angels charge at last\n In the fires the tares to cast,\n But the fruitful ears to store\n In his garner evermore.\n\n 4 Then, thou Church triumphant, come,\n Raise the song of Harvest-home!\n All are safely gathered in,\n Free from sorrow, free from sin;\n There for ever, purified,\n In God's garner to abide;\n Come, ten thousand angels, come,\n Raise the glorious Harvest-home!\n\n\n1237 8s & 4s.\n Thy paths drop fatness.\n Psalm 65:11.\n\n Lord of the harvest! thee we hail;\n Thine ancient promise doth not fail;\n The varying seasons haste their round,\n With goodness all our years are crowned;\n Our thanks we pay\n This holy day;\n O let our hearts in tune be found!\n\n 2 If spring doth wake the song of mirth;\n If summer warms the fruitful earth;\n When winter sweeps the naked plain,\n Or autumn yields its ripened grain;\n Still do we sing\n To thee, our King;\n Through all their changes thou dost reign.\n\n 3 But chiefly when thy liberal hand\n Scatters new plenty o'er the land,\n When sounds of music fill the air,\n As homeward all their treasures bear;\n We too will raise\n Our hymn of praise,\n For we thy common bounties share.\n\n 4 Lord of the harvest! all is thine!\n The rains that fall, the suns that shine,\n The seed once hidden in the ground,\n The skill that makes our fruits abound!\n New, every year,\n The gifts appear;\n New praises from our lips shall sound!\n\n\n1238 13s & 14s.\n All thy works praise thee.\n Psalm 145:10.\n\n When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil,\n When summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil;\n When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood,\n In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Maker good.\n\n 2 The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade;\n The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade;\n The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way,\n The moon and stars their Maker's name in silent pomp display.\n\n 3 Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky--\n Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny!\n No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be,\n Thee, Father, must we always love--Creator! honor thee.\n\n 4 The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of summer fade,\n The autumn droop in winter, the bird forsake the shade;\n The winds be lulled--the sun and moon forget their old decree;\n But we, in nature's latest hour, Lord, will cling to thee!\n\n\n\n\n OLD AND NEW YEAR.\n\n\n1239 L. M.\n The opening year.\n\n Great God, we sing that mighty hand\n By which supported still we stand:\n The opening year thy mercy shows;\n Thy mercy crown it till it close!\n\n 2 By day, by night, at home, abroad,\n Still we are guarded by our God;\n By his incessant bounty fed,\n By his unerring counsel led.\n\n 3 With grateful hearts the past we own;\n The future, all to us unknown,\n We to thy guardian care commit,\n And peaceful leave before thy feet.\n\n 4 In scenes exalted or depressed,\n Be thou our joy, and thou our rest:\n Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise,\n Adored through all our changing days.\n\n\n1240 C. M.\n Psalm 90:12.\n\n And now, my soul, another year\n Of thy short life is past;\n I can not long continue here,\n And this may be my last.\n\n 2 Much of my hasty life is gone,\n Nor will return again:\n And swift my passing moments run,\n The few that yet remain.\n\n 3 Awake, my soul; with utmost care\n Thy true condition learn;\n What are thy hopes? how sure? how fair?\n What is thy great concern?\n\n 4 Behold, another year begins;\n Set out afresh for heaven;\n Seek pardon for thy former sins,\n In Christ so freely given.\n\n 5 Devoutly yield thyself to God,\n And on his grace depend;\n With zeal pursue the heavenly road,\n Nor doubt a happy end.\n\n\n1241 S. M.\n Thou hast made my days, etc.\n Psalm 39:5.\n\n My few revolving years,\n How swift they glide away!\n How short the term of life appears,\n When past--but as a day.\n\n 2 Lord, through another year,\n If thou permit my stay,\n With watchful care may I pursue\n The true and living way.\n\n\n1242 5s & 12s.\n Come let us anew.\n\n Come let us anew\n Our journey pursue--\n Roll round with the year,\n And never stand still till the Master appear;\n His adorable will\n Let us gladly fulfill,\n And our talents improve\n By the patience of hope, and the labor of love.\n\n 2 Our life is a dream;\n Our time, as a stream,\n Glides swiftly away,\n And the fugitive moment refuses to stay:\n The arrow is flown;\n The moment is gone;\n The millennial year\n Rushes on to our view, and eternity's near.\n\n 3 O that each in the day\n Of his coming, may say,\n \"I have fought my way through;\n I have finished the work thou didst give me to do;\"\n O that each from his Lord,\n May receive the glad word,\n \"Well and faithfully done;\n Enter into my joy, and sit down on my throne.\"\n\n\n1243 7s.\n All below is but a dream.\n\n While with ceaseless course the sun\n Hasted through the former year,\n Many souls their race have run,\n Never more to meet us here.\n Fixed in an eternal state,\n They have done with all below,\n We a little longer wait,\n But how little, none can know.\n\n 2 As the winged arrow flies\n Speedily the mark to find;\n As the lightning from the skies\n Darts, and leaves no trace behind--\n Swiftly thus our fleeting days\n Bear us down life's rapid stream;\n Upward, Lord, our spirits raise,\n All below is but a dream.\n\n 3 Thanks for mercies past receive,\n Pardon of our sins renew;\n Teach us henceforth how to live,\n With eternity in view;\n Bless thy word to old and young,\n Fill us with a Saviour's love;\n When our life's short race is run,\n May we dwell with thee above.\n\n\n1244 7s.\n The way of man is not in himself.\n Jer. 10:23.\n\n For thy mercy and thy grace,\n Faithful through another year,\n Hear our song of thankfulness,\n Father, and Redeemer, hear!\n\n 2 In our weakness and distress,\n Rock of strength! be thou our stay!\n In the pathless wilderness\n Be our true and living way!\n\n 3 Who of us death's awful road\n In the coming year shall tread?\n With thy rod and staff, O God!\n Comfort thou his dying head!\n\n 4 Keep us faithful, keep us pure,\n Keep us evermore thine own!\n Help, O help us to endure!\n Fit us for the promised crown!\n\n 5 So, within thy palace gate,\n We shall praise, on golden strings,\n Thee, the only Potentate,\n Lord of lords, and King of kings!\n\n\n\n\n THANKSGIVING.\n\n\n1245 L. M.\n Praise for national blessings.\n\n Almighty Sovereign of the skies,\n To thee let songs of gladness rise,\n Each grateful heart its tribute bring,\n And every voice thy goodness sing.\n\n 2 From thee our choicest blessings flow,\n Life, health and strength, thy hands bestow;\n The daily good thy creatures share,\n Springs from thy providential care.\n\n 3 The rich profusion nature yields,\n The harvest waving o'er the fields,\n The cheering light, refreshing shower,\n Are gifts from thy exhaustless store.\n\n 4 At thy command the vernal bloom\n Revives the world from winter's gloom;\n The summer's heat the fruit matures,\n And autumn all her treasures pours.\n\n 5 From thee proceed domestic ties,\n Connubial bliss, parental joys;\n On thy support the nations stand,\n Obedient to thy high command.\n\n 6 Let every power of heart and tongue\n Unite to swell the grateful song;\n While age and youth in chorus join,\n And praise the Majesty divine.\n\n\n1246 L. M.\n Offer unto God thanksgiving.\n Psalm 50:14.\n\n Thanks be to him who built the hills;\n Thanks be to him the streams who fills;\n Thanks be to him who lights each star\n That sparkles in the blue afar.\n\n 2 Thanks be to him who makes the morn,\n And bids it glow with beams new-born;\n Who draws the shadows of the night,\n Like curtains, o'er our wearied sight.\n\n 3 Thanks be to him who sheds abroad,\n Within our hearts, the love of God--\n The spirit of all truth and peace,\n Fountain of joy and holiness.\n\n\n1247 7s.\n Praise for deliverance and peace.\n\n Peace! the welcome sound proclaim;\n Dwell with rapture on the theme;\n Loud, still louder swell the strain;\n Peace on earth, good-will to men!\n\n 2 Breezes! whispering soft and low,\n Gently murmur as ye blow,\n Now, when war and discord cease,\n Praises to the God of peace.\n\n 3 Ocean's billows, far and wide\n Rolling in majestic pride!\n Loud, still louder swell the strain;\n Peace on earth! good-will to men.\n\n 4 Vocal songsters of the grove,\n Sweetly chant in notes of love,\n Now, when war and discord cease,\n Praises to the God of peace.\n\n 5 Mortals, who these blessings feel!\n Christians, who before him kneel!\n Loud, still louder swell the strain;\n Peace on earth, good-will to men!\n\n\n1248 P. M.\n Magnify him with thanksgiving.\n Psalm 69:30.\n\n Let every heart rejoice and sing;\n Let choral anthems rise;\n Ye reverend men, and children, bring\n To God your sacrifice;\n For he is good--the Lord is good,\n And kind are all his ways;\n With songs and honors sounding loud,\n The Lord Jehovah praise;\n While the rocks and the rills,\n While the vales and the hills,\n A glorious anthem raise,\n Let each prolong the grateful song,\n And the God of our fathers praise.\n\n 2 He bids the sun to rise and set;\n In heaven his power is known;\n And earth, subdued to him, shall yet\n Bow low before his throne;\n For he is good--the Lord is good,\n And kind are all his ways, etc.\n\n\n1249 7s.\n The memory of thy great goodness.\n Psalm 145:7.\n\n Praise to God, immortal praise,\n For the love that crowns our days!\n Bounteous source of every joy,\n Let thy praise our tongues employ.\n\n 2 For the blessings of the field,\n For the stores the gardens yield;\n For the vine's exalted juice,\n For the generous olive's use:\n\n 3 Flocks that whiten all the plain;\n Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;\n Clouds that drop their fattening dews;\n Suns that temperate warmth diffuse:\n\n 4 All that Spring with bounteous hand\n Scatters o'er the smiling land;\n All that liberal Autumn pours\n From her rich o'erflowing stores:\n\n 5 These to thee, my God, we owe,\n Source whence all our blessings flow;\n And for these my soul shall raise\n Grateful vows and solemn praise.\n\n\n1250 6s & 4s.\n He shall bless thee in the land.\n Deut. 28:8.\n\n God bless our native land!\n Firm may she ever stand\n Through storm and night;\n When the wild tempests rave,\n Ruler of wind and wave,\n Do thou our country save\n By thy great might.\n\n 2 For her our prayer shall rise\n To God, above the skies;\n On him we wait:\n Thou who art ever nigh,\n Guarding with watchful eye,\n To thee aloud we cry,\n God save the State!\n\n\n1251 6s & 4s.\n National hymn.\n\n My country! 'tis of thee,\n Sweet land of liberty,\n Of thee I sing;\n Land where my fathers died;\n Land of the pilgrim's pride;\n From every mountain-side\n Let freedom ring.\n\n 2 My native country! thee,\n Land of the noble free,\n Thy name I love;\n I love thy rocks and rills,\n Thy woods and templed hills,\n My heart with rapture thrills,\n Like that above.\n\n 3 Let music swell the breeze,\n And ring from all the trees\n Sweet freedom's song;\n Let mortal tongues awake,\n Let all that breathes partake,\n Let rocks their silence break,\n The sound prolong.\n\n 4 Our father's God! to thee,\n Author of liberty!\n To thee we sing;\n Long may our land be bright\n With freedom's holy light;\n Protect us by thy might,\n Great God, our King.\n\n\n1252 8s & 7s.\n Psalm 148.\n\n Praise the Lord! ye heavens, adore him;\n Praise him, angels in the hight;\n Sun and moon, rejoice before him;\n Praise him, all ye stars of light!\n\n 2 Praise the Lord--for he hath spoken;\n Worlds his mighty voice obeyed;\n Laws which never shall be broken,\n For their guidance he hath made.\n\n 3 Praise the Lord--for he is glorious;\n Never shall his promise fail;\n God hath made his saints victorious,\n Sin and death shall not prevail.\n\n 4 Praise the God of our salvation;\n Hosts on high his power proclaim;\n Heaven and earth, and all creation,\n Laud and magnify his name!\n Hallelujah, Amen.\n\n\n1253 8s & 7s.\n Anniversary hymn.\n\n God of mercy, do thou never\n From our offering turn away,\n But command a blessing ever\n On the memory of this day.\n\n 2 Light and peace do thou ordain it;\n O'er it be no shadow flung;\n Let no deadly darkness stain it,\n And no clouds be o'er it hung.\n\n 3 May the song this people raises,\n And its vows to thee addressed,\n Mingle with the prayers and praises\n That thou hearest from the blest.\n\n 4 When the lips are cold that sing thee,\n And the hearts that love thee, dust,\n Father, then our souls shall bring thee\n Holier love and firmer trust.\n\n\n\n\n FASTS.\n\n\n1254 L. M.\n National judgments deprecated.\n\n While o'er our guilty land, O Lord,\n We view the terrors of thy sword;\n O! whither shall the helpless fly;\n To whom but thee direct their cry?\n\n 2 The helpless sinner's cries and tears\n Are grown familiar to thy ears;\n Oft has thy mercy sent relief,\n When all was fear and hopeless grief.\n\n 3 On thee, our guardian God, we call;\n Before thy throne of grace we fall;\n And is there no deliverance there,\n And must we perish in despair?\n\n 4 See, we repent, we weep, we mourn,\n To our forsaken God we turn;\n O spare our guilty country, spare\n The church which thou hast planted here.\n\n 5 We plead thy grace, indulgent God;\n We plead thy Son's atoning blood;\n We plead thy gracious promises;\n And are they unavailing pleas?\n\n 6 These pleas, presented at thy throne,\n Have brought ten thousand blessings down\n On guilty lands in helpless woe;\n Let them prevail to save us too.\n\n\n1255 L. M.\n Public humiliation.\n\n Great Maker of unnumbered worlds,\n And whom unnumbered worlds adore,\n Whose goodness all thy creatures share,\n While nature trembles at thy power,--\n\n 2 Thine is the hand that moves the spheres,\n That wakes the wind, and lifts the sea;\n And man who moves, the lord of earth,\n Acts but the part assigned by thee.\n\n 3 While suppliant crowds implore thy aid,\n To thee we raise the humble cry;\n Thy altar is the contrite heart,\n Thy incense, the repentant sigh.\n\n 4 O may our land, in this her hour,\n Confess thy hand and bless the rod,\n By penitence make thee her Friend,\n And find in thee a guardian God.\n\n\n1256 L. M.\n Confession and prayer.\n\n O may the power which melts the rock,\n Be felt by all assembled here!\n Or else our service will but mock\n The God whom we profess to fear.\n\n 2 Lord, while thy judgments shake the land,\n Thy people's eyes are fixed on thee!\n We own thy just, uplifted hand,\n Which thousands can not, will not see.\n\n 3 How long hast thou bestowed thy care\n On this indulged, ungrateful spot;\n While other nations, far and near,\n Have envied and admired our lot.\n\n 4 Here peace and liberty have dwelt,\n The glorious gospel brightly shone;\n And oft our enemies have felt\n That God has made our cause his own.\n\n 5 But, ah! both heaven and earth have heard\n Our vile requital of his love!\n We, whom like children he has reared,\n Against his goodness rebels prove.\n\n 6 His grace despised, his power defied,\n And legions of the blackest crimes,\n Profaneness, riot, lust and pride,\n Are signs that mark the present times.\n\n 7 The Lord, displeased, hath raised his rod;\n Ah, where are now the faithful few,\n Who tremble for the ark of God,\n And know what Israel ought to do?\n\n 8 Lord, hear thy people everywhere,\n Who meet to mourn, confess and pray;\n The nation and thy churches spare,\n And let thy wrath be turned away.\n\n\n1257 L. P. M.\n For all that are in authority.\n 1 Tim. 2:2.\n\n Lord! thou hast bid thy people pray\n For all who bear the sovereign sway,\n And as thy servants rule and reign;\n Ordained by thee, these ruling powers;\n Behold! in faith we pray for ours;\n Nor let us for them pray in vain.\n\n 2 Our rulers with thy favor bless;\n 'Stablish their seats in righteousness,\n Let wisdom ever hold the helm;\n The counsels of our senates guide;\n Let justice in our courts preside;\n Rule thou! and guard our widespread realm.\n\n\n1258 L. M.\n He maketh wars to cease.\n Psalm 46:9.\n\n O God of love! O King of peace!\n Make wars throughout the world to cease;\n The wrath of sinful man restrain;\n Give peace, O God! give peace again.\n\n 2 Remember, Lord! thy works of old,\n The wonders that our father's told,\n Remember not our sins' dark stain;\n Give peace, O God! give peace again.\n\n 3 Whom shall we trust but thee, O Lord!\n Where rest but on thy faithful word?\n None ever called on thee in vain;\n Give peace, O God! give peace again.\n\n 4 Where saints and angels dwell above,\n All hearts are knit in holy love;\n O bind us in that heavenly chain;\n Give peace, O God! give peace again.\n\n\n1259 L. P. M.\n Be instructed ye judges of the earth.\n Psalm 2:10.\n\n Judges, who rule the world by laws,\n Will ye despise the righteous cause,\n When the oppressed before you stands?\n Dare ye condemn the righteous poor,\n And let rich sinners go secure,\n While gold and greatness bribe your hands?\n\n 2 Have ye forgot, or never knew,\n That God will judge the judges, too?\n High in the heavens his justice reigns;\n Yet you invade the rights of God,\n And send your bold decrees abroad,\n To bind the conscience in your chains!\n\n 3 The Almighty thunders from the sky--\n Their grandeur melts, their titles die--\n They perish like dissolving frost;\n As empty chaff, when whirlwinds rise,\n Before the sweeping tempest flies,\n So shall their hopes and names be lost.\n\n 4 Thus shall the vengeance of the Lord\n Safety and joy to saints afford;\n And all that hear shall join and say--\n \"Sure there's a God that rules on high,\n A God that hears his children cry,\n And will their sufferings well repay.\"\n\n\n1260 L. M. 6 lines.\n Let the wickedness of the wicked, etc.\n Psalm 7:9.\n\n Our earth we now lament to see\n With floods of wickedness o'erflowed,\n With violence, wrong, and cruelty,\n One wide-extended field of blood,\n Where men like fiends each other tear\n In all the hellish rage of war.\n\n 2 O might the universal Friend\n This havoc of his creatures see;\n Bid our unnatural discord end,\n Declare us reconciled in thee;\n Write kindness on our inward parts,\n And chase the murderer from our hearts!\n\n\n1261 C. M.\n During a pestilence.\n\n Let the land mourn through all its coasts!\n And humble all its state;\n Princes and rulers, at their posts,\n Awhile sit desolate.\n\n 2 Let all the people, high and low,\n Rich, poor, and great and small,\n Invoke, in fellowship of woe,\n The Maker of them all.\n\n 3 For God hath summoned from his place,\n Death, in a direr form,\n To waken, warn, and scourge our race,\n Than earthquakes, fire, or storm.\n\n 4 Let churches weep within their pale,\n And families apart;\n Let each in secrecy bewail\n The plague of his own heart.\n\n 5 So while the land bemoans its sin,\n The pestilence may cease,\n And mercy, tempering wrath, bring in\n God's blessed health and peace.\n\n\n1262 C. M.\n He is a God that judgeth in the earth.\n Psalm 58:11.\n\n Lord, Lord, defend the desolate,\n And rescue from the hands\n Of wicked men the low estate,\n Of him that help demands.\n\n 2 Visit the weak and fatherless,\n Defend the poor man's cause,\n And raise the man in deep distress\n By just and equal laws.\n\n 3 Yea, Lord, judge thou the world in might,\n The wrongs of earth redress;\n For thou art he who shall by right,\n The nations all possess.\n\n\n1263 C. M.\n Turn us again, O God of hosts.\n Psalm 80:7.\n\n See, gracious God, before thy throne\n Thy mourning people bend;\n 'Tis on thy sovereign grace alone\n Our humble hopes depend.\n\n 2 Dark, frowning judgments from thy hand,\n Thy dreadful powers display;\n Yet mercy spares this guilty land,\n And still we live to pray.\n\n 3 O, turn us, turn us, mighty Lord,\n By thy convincing grace;\n Then shall our hearts obey thy word,\n And humbly seek thy face.\n\n\n1264 C. M.\n The Lord reigneth, let the people tremble.\n Psalm 99:1.\n\n High as the heavens above the ground,\n Reigns the Creator, God:\n Wide as the whole creation's bound,\n Extends his awful rod.\n\n 2 Let princes of exalted state,\n To him ascribe their crown,\n Render their homage at his feet,\n And cast their glories down.\n\n 3 Know that his kingdom is supreme,\n Your lofty thoughts are vain;\n He calls you gods, that awful name,\n But ye must die like men.\n\n 4 Then let the sovereigns of the globe,\n Not dare to vex the Just;\n He puts on vengeance like a robe,\n And treads the worms to dust.\n\n 5 Ye judges of the earth, be wise,\n And think of heaven with fear;\n The meanest saint that you despise\n Has an avenger there.\n\n\n1265 C. M.\n Our land.\n\n Lord, while for all mankind we pray,\n Of every clime and coast,\n O hear us for our native land--\n The land we love the most.\n\n 2 O guard our shores from every foe,\n With peace our borders bless,\n With prosperous times our cities crown,\n Our fields with plenteousness.\n\n 3 Unite us in the sacred love\n Of knowledge, truth, and thee;\n And let our hills and valleys shout\n The songs of liberty.\n\n 4 Lord of the nations, thus to thee\n Our country we commend;\n Be thou her refuge and her trust,\n Her everlasting friend.\n\n\n1266 C. M.\n Gen. 18:23.\n\n Thus Abraham, full of sacred awe,\n Before Jehovah stood,\n And with a humble, fervent prayer,\n For guilty Sodom sued.\n\n 2 And could a single holy soul\n So rich a boon obtain?\n Great God! and shall a nation pray,\n And plead with thee in vain?\n\n 3 Still we are thine; we bear thy name;\n Here yet is thine abode;\n Long has thy presence blessed our land;\n Forsake us not, O God!\n\n\n\n\n MISSIONARY ASSEMBLIES.\n\n\n1267 L. M.\n All the ends of the world.\n Psalm 22:27.\n\n Come from the east, with gifts, ye kings!\n With gold, and frankincense, and myrrh;\n Where'er the morning spreads her wings,\n Let man to God his vows prefer.\n\n 2 Come from the west! the bond, the free;\n His easy service make your choice;\n Ye isles of the Pacific sea,\n Like halcyon nests, in God rejoice.\n\n 3 Come from the south! through the desert sands\n A highway for the Lord prepare;\n Let Ethiopia stretch her hands,\n And Libya pour her soul in prayer.\n\n 4 Come from the north! let Europe raise\n In all her languages one song;\n Give God the glory, power, and praise,\n That to his holy name belong.\n\n\n1268 L. M.\n Isaiah 51:9.\n\n Arm of the Lord, awake! awake!\n Put on thy strength, the nations shake,\n And let the world, adoring, see\n Triumphs of mercy wrought by thee.\n\n 2 Say to the heathen, from thy throne,\n \"I am Jehovah--God alone!\"\n Thy voice their idols shall confound,\n And cast their altars to the ground.\n\n 3 No more let human blood be spilt--\n Vain sacrifice for human guilt!\n But to each conscience be applied\n The blood that flowed from Jesus' side.\n\n 4 Let Zion's time of favor come;\n O bring the tribes of Israel home!\n And let our wondering eyes behold\n Gentiles and Jews in Jesus' fold.\n\n 5 Almighty God, thy grace proclaim\n In, every land, of every name!\n Let adverse powers before thee fall,\n And crown the Saviour Lord of all.\n\n\n1269 L. M.\n Rev. 11:15.\n\n Soon may the last glad song arise\n Through all the millions of the skies;\n That song of triumph, which records\n That all the earth is now the Lord's.\n\n 2 Let thrones and powers and kingdoms be\n Obedient, mighty God! to thee;\n And over land, and stream, and main,\n Now wave the scepter of thy reign.\n\n 3 O let that glorious anthem swell;\n Let host to host the triumph tell,\n That not one rebel heart remains,\n But over all the Saviour reigns.\n\n\n1270 C. M.\n Go unto all the world.\n Mar. 16:15.\n\n Go, and the Saviour's grace proclaim,\n Ye messengers of God;\n Go, publish through Immanuel's name,\n Salvation bought with blood.\n\n 2 What though your arduous task may lie\n Through regions dark as death;\n What though your faith and zeal to try,\n Perils beset your path!\n\n 3 Yet, with determined courage, go;\n And armed with power divine,\n Your God will needful aid bestow,\n And on your labors shine.\n\n 4 He who has called you to the war\n Will recompense your pains;\n Before Messiah's conquering car\n Mountains shall sink to plains.\n\n 5 Shrink not though earth and hell oppose,\n But plead your Master's cause;\n Nor doubt that e'en your mighty foes\n Shall bow before his cross.\n\n\n1271 C. M.\n The morning cometh.\n Isaiah 21:12.\n\n Light of the lonely pilgrim's heart;\n Star of the coming day!\n Arise, and with thy morning beams\n Chase all our griefs away!\n\n 2 Come, blessed Lord! let every shore\n And answering island sing\n The praises of thy royal name,\n And own thee as their King.\n\n 3 Bid the whole earth responsive now,\n To the bright world above,\n Break forth in sweetest strains of joy\n In memory of thy love.\n\n 4 Jesus! thy fair creation groans,\n The air, the earth, the sea,\n In unison with all our hearts,\n And calls aloud for thee.\n\n 5 Thine was the cross, with all its fruits\n Of grace and peace divine;\n Be thine the crown of glory now,\n The palm of victory thine!\n\n\n1272 S. M.\n Matt. 13:8.\n\n God of the prophets' power!\n God of the gospel's sound!\n Move glorious on--send out thy voice\n To all the nations round.\n\n 2 With hearts and lips unfeigned,\n We bless thee for thy word;\n We praise thee for the joyful news,\n Which our glad ears have heard.\n\n 3 O may we treasure well\n The counsels that we hear,\n Till righteousness and holy joy\n In all our hearts appear.\n\n 4 Water the sacred seed,\n And give it large increase;\n May neither fowls, nor rocks, nor thorns,\n Prevent the fruits of peace.\n\n 5 And though we sow in tears,\n Our souls at last shall come,\n And gather in our sheaves with joy,\n At heaven's great harvest-home.\n\n\n1273 S. M.\n Rise, gracious God, and shine.\n\n Rise, gracious God, and shine\n In all thy saving might;\n Now prosper every good design,\n To spread thy glorious light.\n\n 2 O bring the nations near\n That they may sing thy praise;\n Thy word let all the heathen hear,\n And learn thy holy ways.\n\n 3 Send forth thy glorious power;\n All nations then shall see,\n And earth present her grateful store,\n In converts born to thee.\n\n\n1274 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Love of God, all love excelling.\n\n Love of God, all love excelling!\n How can I its wonders tell!\n Now, my troubled spirit quelling,\n Now, it breaks the powers of hell:\n O what mercies\n Start beneath its magic spell!\n\n 2 Love of God, all love embracing\n In its wide extended arms;\n All our doubts and fears displacing,\n Saves our souls from death's alarms:\n O what sweetness\n Dwells within its blissful charms!\n\n 3 Love of God, all love possessing!\n Filling all our souls with joy;\n Pouring on each heart a blessing,\n Which no time can e'er destroy:\n Now may praises\n All our hearts and tongues employ.\n\n 4 Love of God, all love extending\n Far o'er sea and ocean strands;\n Thou art on the breezes sending\n Joyful news to distant lands:\n May thy triumphs\n Bind the world within thy bands.\n\n\n1275 8s & 7s.\n Onward!\n\n Onward, onward, men of heaven!\n Bear the gospel banner high;\n Rest not till its light is given--\n Star of every pagan sky;\n Send it where the pilgrim stranger\n Faints beneath the torrid ray;\n Bid the hearty forest ranger\n Hail it ere he fades away.\n\n 2 Where the Arctic ocean thunders,\n Where the tropics fiercely glow,\n Broadly spread its page of wonders,\n Brightly bid its radiance flow;\n India marks its luster stealing;\n Shivering Greenland loves its rays,\n Afric, 'mid her deserts kneeling,\n Lifts the untaught strain of praise.\n\n 3 Rude in speech, or wild in feature,\n Dark in spirit, though they be,\n Show that light to every creature--\n Prince or vassal, bond or free:\n Lo! they haste to every nation;\n Host on host the ranks supply:\n Onward! Christ is your salvation,\n And your death is victory.\n\n\n1276 8s & 7s.\n Shout the tidings of salvation.\n\n Shout the tidings of salvation,\n To the aged and the young;\n Till the precious invitation\n Waken every heart and tongue.\n CHORUS.\n Send the sound\n The earth around,\n From the rising to the setting of the sun,\n Till each gathering crowd\n Shall proclaim aloud,\n The glorious work is done.\n\n 2 Shout the tidings of salvation,\n O'er the prairies on the west;\n Till each gathering congregation,\n With the gospel sound is blest.\n\n 3 Shout the tidings of salvation,\n Mingling with the ocean's roar;\n Till the ships of every nation,\n Bear the news from shore to shore.\n\n 4 Shout the tidings of salvation\n O'er the islands of the sea;\n Till, in humble adoration,\n All to Christ shall bow the knee.\n\n\n1277 8s & 7s.\n Quit you like men; be strong.\n 1 Cor. 16:13.\n\n We are living, we are dwelling\n In a grand and awful time,\n In an age on ages telling;\n To be living is sublime.\n\n 2 Hark! the onset! will ye fold your\n Faith-clad arms in lazy lock?\n Up! O, up! thou drowsy soldier;\n Worlds are charging to the shock.\n\n 3 Worlds are charging, heaven beholding;\n Thou hast but an hour to fight;\n Now, the blazoned cross unfolding,\n On! right onward for the right.\n\n 4 On! let all the soul within you\n For the truth's sake go abroad:\n Strike! let every nerve and sinew\n Tell on ages--tell for God.\n\n\n1278 P. M.\n God speed the right!\n\n Now to heaven our prayer ascending,\n God speed the right!\n In a noble cause extending,\n God speed the right!\n Be their zeal in heaven recorded,\n With success on earth rewarded,\n God speed the right!\n\n 2 Be that prayer again repeated,\n God speed the right!\n Ne'er despairing, though defeated,\n God speed the right!\n Like the good and great in story,\n If they fail, they fail with glory;\n God speed the right!\n\n 3 Patient, firm, and persevering,\n God speed the right!\n Ne'er the event or danger fearing,\n God speed the right!\n Pains, nor toils, nor trials heeding,\n And in heaven's own time succeeding,\n God speed the right!\n\n 4 Still their onward course pursuing,\n God speed the right!\n Every foe at length subduing,\n God speed the right!\n Truth thy cause, whate'er delay it,\n There's no power on earth can stay it,\n God speed the right!\n\n\n1279 C. M.\n Blessed is the people that know, etc.\n Psalm 89:15.\n\n How sweet the gospel trumpet sounds!\n Its notes are grace and love;\n Its echo through the world resounds,\n From Jesus' throne above.\n CHORUS.\n It is the sound, the joyful sound,\n Of mercy rich and free;\n Pardon it offers, peace proclaims,\n Sinner! it speaks to thee.\n\n 2 It tells the weary soul of rest,\n The poor of heavenly wealth,\n Of joy to heal the mourning breast;\n It brings the sin-sick health.\n\n 3 Its words announce a heavenly feast,\n Of water, milk, and wine,\n And manna in the wilderness,\n Provisions all divine.\n\n 4 It speaks of boundless grace, by which\n The vilest are forgiven;\n To Christians it proclaims a rich\n Inheritance in heaven.\n\n 5 To men of high and low degree,\n Its message is addressed;\n The Jew and Gentile, bond and free,\n Are with its blessings blessed.\n\n\n1280 8s, 7s & 4s.\n All the kindreds of the nations.\n Psalm 22:27.\n\n O'er the gloomy hills of darkness,\n Look, my soul, be still and gaze;\n All the promises do travail\n With a glorious day of grace:\n Blessed jubilee,\n Let thy glorious morning dawn.\n\n 2 Let the Indian, let the ,\n Let the rude barbarian see,\n That divine and glorious conquest\n Once obtained on Calvary:\n Let the gospel\n Loud resound from pole to pole.\n\n 3 Kingdoms wide that sit in darkness,\n Grant them, Lord, the glorious light;\n And from eastern coast to western,\n May the morning chase the night!\n And redemption,\n Freely purchased, win the day.\n\n 4 Fly abroad, thou mighty gospel!\n Win and conquer! never cease!\n May thy lasting wide dominion\n Multiply and still increase!\n Sway thy scepter,\n Saviour, all the world around.\n\n\n1281 8s, 7s & 4s.\n The missionary's farewell.\n\n Yes, my native land, I love thee;\n And all thy scenes, I love them well:\n Home and friends, and happy country,\n Can I bid you all farewell?\n Can I leave you,\n Far in heathen lands to dwell?\n\n 2 Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure,\n Holy days and Sabbath bell,\n Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure,\n Can I--can I say, farewell?\n Can I leave you,\n Far in heathen lands to dwell.\n\n 3 Yes, I hasten from you gladly;\n To the strangers let me tell\n How he died--the blessed Saviour--\n To redeem a world from hell:\n Let me hasten,\n Far in heathen lands to dwell.\n\n 4 Bear me on, thou restless ocean,\n From the scenes I love so well:\n Heaves my heart with warm emotion\n While I go far hence to dwell:\n Glad I bid thee,\n Native land, farewell, farewell!\n\n\n1282 8s, 7s & 4s.\n My name shall be great, etc.\n Mal. 1:11.\n\n Light of them that sit in darkness,\n Rise and shine! thy blessings bring\n Light to lighten all the Gentiles!\n Rise with healing on thy wing;\n To thy brightness\n Let all kings and nations come.\n\n 2 May the heathen now adoring\n Idol-gods of wood and stone,\n Come, and, worshiping before him,\n Serve the living God alone!\n Let thy glory\n Fill the earth as floods the sea.\n\n 3 Thou to whom all power is given,\n Speak the word: at thy command\n Let thy truth and faithful heralds\n Spread thy name from land to land:\n Lord, be with them\n Always to the end of time.\n\n\n1283 6s, 7s & 4.\n Farewell hymn for missionaries.\n\n Eternal Lord! whose power\n Can calm the heaving ocean,\n Exalted thou,\n Yet gracious bow;\n Accept our warm devotion.\n\n 2 For thee, our all we leave,\n Nor drop a tear of sadness;\n As on we glide,\n Be thou our guide,\n And fill our hearts with gladness.\n\n 3 We go 'mid pagan gloom\n To spread the truth victorious;\n Thy blessing send,\n Thy word attend,\n And make its triumph glorious.\n\n 4 And when our toils are done,\n Smooth thou the dying pillow:\n O, bring us blest\n To endless rest,\n Safe o'er death's troubled billow!\n\n\n1284 11s & 10s.\n The day of joy.\n\n Wake thee, O Zion! thy mourning is ended;\n God--thine own God--hath regarded thy prayer;\n Wake thee, and hail him in glory descended,\n Thy darkness to scatter--thy wastes to repair.\n\n 2 Wake thee, O Zion! his spirit of power\n To newness of life is awaking the dead;\n Array thee in beauty, and greet the glad hour\n That brings thee salvation, through Jesus who bled.\n\n 3 Saviour, we gladly, with voices resounding\n Loud as the thunder, our chorus would swell:\n Till from rock, wood and mountain, its echoes rebounding,\n To all the wide world of salvation shall tell.\n\n\n1285 7s & 6s.\n Missionary hymn.\n\n From Greenland's icy mountains,\n From India's coral strand--\n Where Afric's sunny fountains\n Roll down their golden sand--\n From many an ancient river,\n From many a palmy plain,\n They call us to deliver\n Their land from error's chain.\n\n 2 What though the spicy breezes\n Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle--\n Though every prospect pleases,\n And only man is vile;\n In vain with lavish kindness\n The gifts of God are strewn;\n The heathen, in their blindness,\n Bow down to wood and stone.\n\n 3 Shall we whose souls are lighted\n By wisdom from on high--\n Shall we, to man benighted,\n The lamp of life deny?\n Salvation! O salvation!\n The joyful sound proclaim,\n Till earth's remotest nation\n Has learned Messiah's name.\n\n 4 Waft--waft, you winds, his story,\n And you, you waters, roll,\n Till, like a sea of glory,\n It spreads from pole to pole;\n Till, o'er our ransomed nature,\n The Lamb for sinners slain,\n Redeemer, King, Creator,\n In bliss returns to reign.\n\n\n1286 7s & 5s.\n Rev. 11:6.\n\n Onward speed thy conquering flight,\n Angel, onward speed!\n Cast abroad thy radiant light,\n Bid the shades recede;\n Tread the idols in the dust,\n Heathen fanes destroy;\n Spread the gospel's love and trust,\n Spread the gospel's joy.\n\n 2 Onward speed thy conquering flight,\n Angel, onward haste;\n Quickly on each mountain hight\n Be thy standard placed;\n Let thy blissful tidings float\n Far o'er vale and hill,\n Till the sweetly-echoing note\n Every bosom thrill.\n\n 3 Onward speed thy conquering flight,\n Angel, onward fly!\n Long has been the reign of night;\n Bring the morning nigh:\n Unto thee earth's sufferers lift\n Their imploring wail;\n Bear them heaven's holy gift,\n Ere their courage fail.\n\n 4 Onward speed thy conquering flight,\n Angel, onward speed!\n Morning bursts upon our sight,\n Lo! the time decreed:\n Now the Lord his kingdom takes,\n Thrones and empires fall;\n Now the joyous song awakes,\n \"God is All in All!\"\n\n\n1287 7s & 6s.\n Roll on, thou mighty ocean.\n\n Roll on, thou mighty ocean;\n And, as thy billows flow,\n Bear messengers of mercy\n To every land below.\n\n 2 Arise, ye gales, and waft them\n Safe to the destined shore,\n That man may sit in darkness\n And death's deep shade no more.\n\n 3 O thou eternal Ruler,\n Who holdest in thine arm\n The tempests of the ocean,\n Protect them from all harm.\n\n 4 O be thy presence with them,\n Wherever they may be;\n Though far from us who love them,\n O be they still with thee!\n\n\n\n\n THE SEA.\n\n\n1288 L. M. 6 lines.\n They that go down, etc.\n Psalm 107:23.\n\n Eternal Father! strong to save,\n Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,\n Who biddest the mighty ocean deep\n Its own appointed limits keep;\n O hear us when we cry to thee\n For those in peril on the sea!\n\n 2 O Christ! whose voice the waters heard,\n And hushed their raging at thy word,\n Who walkedst on the foaming deep,\n And calm amidst its rage didst sleep;\n O hear us when we cry to thee\n For those in peril on the sea!\n\n 3 O God of boundless love and power!\n Our brethren shield in danger's hour;\n From rock and tempest, fire and foe,\n Protect them wheresoe'er they go,\n Thus evermore shall rise to thee\n Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.\n\n\n1289 L. M.\n He raiseth the stormy wind.\n Psalm 107:25.\n\n Glory to thee, whose powerful word\n Bids the tempestuous wind arise;\n Glory to thee, the sovereign Lord\n Of air and earth, and seas and skies.\n\n 2 Let air and earth and skies obey,\n And seas thy awful will perform;\n From them we learn to own thy sway,\n And shout to meet the gathering storm.\n\n 3 What though the floods lift up their voice,\n Thou hearest, Lord, our silent cry;\n They can not damp thy children's joys,\n Or shake the soul, while God is nigh.\n\n 4 Roar on, ye waves! our souls defy\n Your roaring to disturb their rest;\n In vain to impair the calm ye try--\n The calm in a believer's breast.\n\n\n1290 L. M.\n The Lord is mightier, etc.\n Psalm 93:4.\n\n The floods, O Lord, lift up their voice,\n The mighty floods lift up their roar;\n The floods in tumult loud rejoice,\n And climb in foam the sounding shore.\n\n 2 But mightier than the mighty sea,\n The Lord of glory reigns on high;\n Far o'er its waves we look to thee,\n And see their fury break and die.\n\n 3 Thy word is true, thy promise sure,\n That ancient promise sealed in love;\n Here be thy temple ever pure,\n As thy pure mansions shine above.\n\n\n1291 L. M.\n Rocked in the cradle of the deep.\n\n Rocked in the cradle of the deep,\n I lay me down in peace to sleep;\n Secure I rest upon the wave,\n For thou, O Lord! hast power to save.\n\n 2 I know thou wilt not slight my call!\n For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall!\n And calm and peaceful is my sleep,\n Rocked in the cradle of the deep.\n\n 3 And such the trust that still were mine,\n Though stormy winds swept o'er the brine,\n Or though the tempest's fiery breath\n Roused me from sleep to wreck and death!\n\n 4 In ocean caves still safe with thee,\n The germs of immortality;\n And calm and peaceful is my sleep,\n Rocked in the cradle of the deep.\n\n\n1292 C. M.\n Let not the deep swallow me up.\n Psalm 69:15.\n\n How are thy servants blest, O Lord!\n How sure is their defense!\n Eternal Wisdom is their guide,\n Their help, Omnipotence.\n\n 2 In foreign realms, and lands remote,\n Supported by thy care,\n Through burning climes they pass unhurt,\n And breathe in tainted air.\n\n 3 When by the dreadful tempest borne\n High on the broken wave,\n They know thou art not slow to hear,\n Nor impotent to save.\n\n 4 The storm is laid, the winds retire,\n Obedient to thy will;\n The sea, that roars at thy command,\n At thy command is still.\n\n 5 In midst of dangers, fears and deaths,\n Thy goodness I'll adore;\n I'll praise thee for thy mercies past,\n And humbly hope for more.\n\n\n1293 C. M.\n Thy path in the great waters.\n Psalm 77:19.\n\n Thy way is in the deep, O Lord!\n E'en there we'll go with thee;\n We'll meet the tempest at thy word,\n And walk upon the sea!\n\n 2 Poor tremblers at his rougher wind,\n Why do we doubt him so?\n Who gives the storm a path, will find\n The way our feet shall go.\n\n 3 A moment may his hand be lost,\n Drear moment of delay!--\n We cry, \"Lord, help the tempest tost,\"\n And safe we're borne away.\n\n\n1294 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Far, far at sea.\n\n Star of peace, to wanderers weary,\n Bright the beams that smile on me;\n Cheer the pilot's vision dreary,\n Far, far at sea.\n\n 2 Star of Hope, gleam on the billow,\n Bless the soul that sighs for thee;\n Bless the sailor's lonely pillow,\n Far, far at sea.\n\n 3 Star of faith, when winds are mocking\n All his toil, he flies to thee;\n Save him, on the billows rocking,\n Far, far at sea.\n\n 4 Star Divine! O, safely guide him--\n Bring the wanderer home to thee;\n Sore temptations long have tried him,\n Far, far at sea.\n\n\n1295 7s.\n Thou rulest the raging of the sea.\n Psalm 89:9.\n\n Lord! whom winds and seas obey,\n Guide us through the watery way;\n In the hollow of thy hand\n Hide, and bring us safe to land.\n\n 2 Jesus! let our faithful mind\n Rest, on thee alone reclined;\n Every anxious thought repress;\n Keep our souls in perfect peace.\n\n 3 Keep the souls whom now we leave;\n Bid them to each other cleave:\n Bid them walk on life's rough sea;\n Bid them come by faith to thee.\n\n 4 Save, till all these tempests end,\n All who on thy love depend;\n Waft our happy spirits o'er,\n Land us on the heavenly shore.\n\n\n1296 12s.\n Lord, save, or we perish.\n\n When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming,\n When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is gleaming,\n Nor hope lends a ray, the poor seaman to cherish,\n We fly to our Maker--Save, Lord, or we perish!\n\n 2 O Jesus, once rocked on the breast of the billow,\n Aroused by the shriek of despair from thy pillow,\n Now seated in glory, the mariner cherish,\n Who cries, in his anguish--Save, Lord, or we perish!\n\n 3 And, O, when the whirlwind of passion is raging,\n When sin in our hearts its sad warfare is waging,\n Then send down thy grace, thy redeemed to cherish;\n Rebuke the destroyer--Save, Lord, or we perish!\n\n\n\n\n MARRIAGE HYMNS.\n\n\n1297 C. M.\n John 2:2.\n\n Since Jesus freely did appear\n To grace a marriage feast;\n Lord, we ask thy presence here\n To make a wedding guest.\n\n 2 Upon the bridal pair look down,\n Who now have plighted hands;\n Their union with thy favor crown,\n And bless the nuptial bands.\n\n 3 With gifts of grace their hearts endow,\n Of all rich dowries best;\n Their substance bless, and peace bestow\n To sweeten all the rest.\n\n 4 In purest love their souls unite,\n That they, with Christian care,\n May make domestic burdens light,\n By taking mutual share.\n\n\n1298 C. M.\n Not good for man to be alone.\n Gen. 2:18.\n\n Not for the summer hour alone,\n When skies resplendent shine,\n And youth and pleasure fill the throne,\n Our hearts and hands we join.\n\n 2 But for those stern and wintry days\n Of sorrow, pain, and fear,\n When heaven's wise discipline doth make\n Our earthly journey drear.\n\n 3 Not for this span of life alone,\n Which like a blast doth fly;\n And, as the transient flowers of grass,\n Just blossom, droop, and die.\n\n 4 But for a being without end,\n This vow of love we take;\n Grant us, O Lord, one home at last,\n For thy great mercy's sake.\n\n\n1299 7s.\n They twain shall be one.\n Matt. 19:5.\n\n Father of the human race,\n Sanction with thy heavenly grace\n What on earth hath now been done,\n That these twain be truly one.\n\n 2 One in sickness and in health,\n One in poverty and wealth,\n And as year rolls after year,\n Each to other still more dear.\n\n 3 One in purpose, one in heart,\n Till the mortal stroke shall part;\n One in cheerful piety,\n One for ever, Lord, with thee.\n\n\n\n\n DEDICATORY.\n\n\n1300 L. M.\n How much less this house.\n 1 Kings 8:27.\n\n The perfect world, by Adam trod,\n Was the first temple built to God;\n His fiat laid the corner-stone,\n And heaved its pillars one by one.\n\n 2 He hung its starry roof on high--\n The broad, illimitable sky;\n He spread its pavement, green and bright,\n And curtained it with morning light.\n\n 3 The mountains in their places stood,\n The sea--the sky--and \"all was good;\"\n And when its first few praises rang,\n The \"morning stars together sang.\"\n\n 4 Lord, 'tis not ours to make the sea,\n And earth, and sky, a house for thee;\n But in thy sight our offering stands--\n An humbler temple, \"made with hands.\"\n\n 5 We can not bid the morning star\n To sing how bright thy glories are;\n But, Lord, if thou wilt meet us here,\n Thy praise shall be the Christian's tear.\n\n\n1301 H. M.\n Peace be within thy walls.\n Psalm 122:7.\n\n In sweet, exalted strains,\n The King of glory praise;\n O'er heaven and earth he reigns,\n Through everlasting days;\n Beneath this roof, O deign to show\n How God can dwell with men below.\n\n 2 Here may thine ears attend\n Our interceding cries;\n And grateful praise ascend,\n All fragrant, to the skies;\n Here may thy word melodious sound,\n And spread the joys of heaven around.\n\n 3 Here may the attentive throng\n Imbibe thy truth and love;\n And converts join the song\n Of seraphim above;\n And willing crowds surround thy board,\n With sacred joy and sweet accord.\n\n 4 Here may our unborn sons\n And daughters sound thy praise,\n And shine like polished stones\n Through long-succeeding days;\n Here, Lord! display thy saving power,\n While temples stand, and men adore.\n\n\n1302 L. M.\n He called the name of that place Bethel.\n Gen. 28:19.\n\n O bow thine ear, Eternal One,\n On thee our heart adoring calls;\n To thee the followers of thy Son\n Have raised, and now devote these walls.\n\n 2 Here let thy holy days be kept;\n And be this place to worship given,\n Like that bright spot where Jacob slept,\n The house of God, the gate of heaven.\n\n 3 Here may thine honor dwell; and here,\n As incense, let thy children's prayer,\n From contrite hearts and lips sincere,\n Rise on the still and holy air.\n\n 4 Here be thy praise devoutly sung;\n Here let thy truth beam forth to save,\n As when, of old, thy Spirit hung,\n On wings of light, o'er Jordan's wave.\n\n 5 And when the lips, that with thy name\n Are vocal now, to dust shall turn,\n On others may devotion's flame\n Be kindled here, and purely burn!\n\n\n1303 C. M.\n In his temple we speak of his glory.\n Psalm 29:9.\n\n O thou whose own vast temple stands\n Built over earth and sea,\n Accept the walls that human hands\n Have raised to worship thee.\n\n 2 Lord, from thine inmost glory send,\n Within these courts to bide,\n The peace that dwelleth, without end,\n Serenely by thy side.\n\n 3 May erring minds, that worship here,\n Be taught the better way;\n And they who mourn, and they who fear,\n Be strengthened as they pray.\n\n 4 May faith grow firm, and love grow warm,\n And pure devotion rise,\n While round these hallowed walls the storm\n Of earth-born passion dies.\n\n\n1304 7s.\n Make them joyful in my house of prayer.\n Isaiah 56:7.\n\n Lord of hosts, to thee we raise\n Here a house of prayer and praise!\n Thou thy people's hearts prepare\n Here to meet for praise and prayer.\n\n 2 Let the living here be fed\n With thy word, the heavenly bread;\n Here in hope of glory blest,\n May the dead be laid to rest.\n\n 3 Here to thee a temple stand,\n While the sea shall gird the land;\n Here reveal thy mercy sure,\n While the sun and moon endure.\n\n 4 Hallelujah!--earth and sky\n To the joyful sound reply;\n Hallelujah!--hence ascend\n Prayer and praise till time shall end.\n\n\n\n\n MISCELLANEOUS.\n\n\n1305 L. M.\n Here have we no continuing city.\n Heb. 13:14.\n\n \"We've no abiding city here;\"\n Sad truth, were this to be our home;\n But let this thought our spirits cheer,\n \"We seek a city yet to come.\"\n\n 2 \"We've no abiding city here;\"\n We seek a city out of sight:\n Zion its name--the Lord is there,\n It shines with everlasting light.\n\n 3 O sweet abode of peace and love,\n Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest!\n Had I the pinions of the dove,\n I'd fly to thee, and be at rest.\n\n 4 But, hush, my soul! nor dare repine;\n The time my God appoints is best;\n While here, to do his will be mine,\n And his to fix my time of rest.\n\n\n1306 L. M.\n The mercies of God.\n Rom 12:2.\n\n My God, how endless is thy love!\n Thy gifts are every evening new;\n And morning mercies, from above,\n Gently distill like early dew.\n\n 2 Thou spreadest the curtains of the night,\n Great Guardian of my sleeping hours;\n Thy sovereign word restores the light,\n And quickens all my drowsy powers.\n\n 3 I yield my powers to thy command;\n To thee I consecrate my days;\n Perpetual blessings from thy hand\n Demand perpetual songs of praise.\n\n\n1307 L. M.\n Lord, let thy goodness lead our land.\n\n Lord, let thy goodness lead our land,\n Still saved by thine almighty hand,\n The tribute of its love to bring\n To thee, our Saviour and our King.\n\n 2 Let every public temple raise\n Triumphant songs of holy praise;\n Let every peaceful, private home,\n A temple, Lord, to thee become.\n\n 3 Still be it our supreme delight\n To walk as in thy glorious sight;\n Still in thy precepts and thy fear,\n Till life's last hour to persevere.\n\n\n1308 C. M.\n Submission.\n\n Teach us, in time of deep distress,\n To own thy hand, O God,\n And in submissive silence learn\n The lessons of thy rod.\n\n 2 In every changing scene of life,\n Whate'er that scene may be,\n Give us a meek and humble mind,\n A mind at peace with thee.\n\n 3 Do thou direct our steps aright;\n Help us thy name to fear;\n And give us grace to watch and pray,\n And strength to persevere.\n\n 4 Then may we close our eyes in death,\n Without a fear or care;\n For death is life, and labor rest,\n If thou art with us there.\n\n\n1309 C. M.\n Psalm. 145:18.\n\n Dear Father, to thy mercy-seat\n My soul for shelter flies;\n 'Tis here I find a safe retreat\n When storms and tempests rise.\n\n 2 My cheerful hope can never die,\n If thou my God art near;\n Thy grace can raise my comforts high\n And banish every fear.\n\n 3 My great Protector, and my Lord!\n Thy constant aid impart;\n O let thy kind, thy gracious word,\n Sustain my trembling heart.\n\n 4 O! never let my soul remove\n From this divine retreat;\n Still let me trust thy power and love,\n And dwell beneath thy feet.\n\n\n1310 C. M.\n The hour of prayer.\n\n Thou Lord of life! whose tender care\n Hath led us on till now,\n We in this quiet hour of prayer\n Before thy presence bow.\n\n 2 Thou, blessed God! hast been our Guide;\n Through life, our Guard and Friend;\n O, still, on life's uncertain tide,\n Preserve us to the end!\n\n 3 To thee our grateful praise we bring,\n For mercies day by day:\n Lord, teach our hearts thy love to sing,\n Lord, teach us how to pray!\n\n\n1311 C. M.\n Love of God.\n\n Thou Grace divine, encircling all,\n A soundless, shoreless sea!\n Wherein at last, our souls shall fall,\n O Love of God most free!\n\n 2 When over dizzy steeps we go,\n One soft hand blinds our eyes,\n The other leads us safe and slow,\n O Love of God most wise!\n\n 3 And though we turn us from thy face,\n And wander wide and long,\n Thou holdest us still in thine embrace,\n O Love of God most strong!\n\n 4 The saddened heart, the restless soul,\n The toilworn frame and mind,\n Alike confess thy sweet control,\n O Love of God most kind!\n\n 5 But not alone thy care we claim,\n Our wayward steps to win:\n We know thee by a dearer name,\n O Love of God within!\n\n 6 And filled and quickened by thy breath,\n Our souls are strong and free\n To rise o'er sin, and fear, and death,\n O Love of God, to thee!\n\n\n1312 C. M.\n They that seek me early shall find me.\n Prov. 8:17.\n\n Happy the child whose tender years\n Receive instruction well,\n Who hates the sinner's path, and fears\n The road that leads to hell.\n\n 2 'Twill save us from a thousand snares\n To mind religion young,\n Grace will preserve our following years,\n And make our virtues strong.\n\n 3 To thee, Almighty God, to thee\n Our childhood we resign;\n 'Twill please us to look back and see\n That our whole lives were thine.\n\n 4 O let the work of prayer and praise\n Employ my youngest breath;\n Thus I'm prepared for longer days,\n Or fit for early death.\n\n\n1313 C. M. 6 lines.\n Vespers.\n\n O Shadow in a sultry land,\n We gather to thy breast,\n Whose love, unfolding like the night,\n Brings quietude and rest,\n Glimpse of the fairer life to be,\n In foretaste here possessed;\n\n 2 From aimless wanderings we come,\n From drifting to and fro;\n The wave of being mingles deep,\n Amid its ebb and flow;\n The grander sweep of tides serene\n Our spirits yearn to know!\n\n 3 That which the garish day had lost,\n The twilight vigil brings,\n While softlier the vesper bell\n Its silver cadence rings,--\n The sense of an immortal trust,\n The brush of angel wings!\n\n 4 Drop down behind the solemn hills,\n O Day, with golden skies!\n Serene above its fading glow,\n Night, starry-crowned, arise!\n So beautiful may heaven be,\n When life's last sunbeam dies!\n\n\n1314 S. M.\n Christ the Day-Star.\n\n We lift our hearts to thee,\n Thou Day-star from on high:\n The sun itself is but thy shade,\n Yet cheers both earth and sky.\n\n 2 O, let thy rising beams\n Dispel the shades of night;\n And let the glories of thy love,\n Come like the morning light!\n\n 3 How beauteous nature now!\n How dark and sad before!--\n With joy we view the pleasing change,\n And nature's God adore.\n\n 4 May we this life improve,\n To mourn for errors past;\n And live this short, revolving day,\n As if it were our last.\n\n\n1315 C. M.\n Evening.\n\n O Lord! another day is flown,\n And we, a feeble band,\n Are met once more before thy throne,\n To bless thy fostering hand.\n\n 2 Thy heavenly grace to each impart;\n All evil far remove;\n And shed abroad in every heart\n Thine everlasting love.\n\n 3 Our souls, obedient to thy sway,\n In Christian bonds unite;\n Let peace and love conclude the day,\n And hail the morning light.\n\n 4 Thus, cleansed from sin, and wholly thine,\n A flock by Jesus led,\n The Sun of Righteousness shall shine\n In glory on our head.\n\n 5 O still restore our wandering feet,\n And still direct our way,\n Till worlds shall fail, and faith shall greet\n The dawn of endless day.\n\n\n1316 P. M.\n Flee as a bird.\n\n Flee as a bird to your mountain,\n Thou who art weary of sin;\n Go to the clear flowing fountain,\n Where you may wash and be clean!\n Fly, for the avenger is near thee;\n Call, and the Saviour will hear thee;\n He on his bosom will bear thee,\n Thou who art weary of sin,\n O thou who art weary of sin.\n\n 2 He will protect thee for ever,\n Wipe every falling tear;\n He will forsake thee, O never,\n Sheltered so tenderly there;\n Haste, then, the hours are flying,\n Spend not the moments in sighing,\n Cease from your sorrow and crying,\n The Saviour will wipe every tear,\n The Saviour will wipe every tear.\n\n\n1317 P. M.\n Evening prayer.\n\n I come to thee to-night,\n In my lone closet, where no eye can see,\n And dare to crave an interview with thee,\n Father of love and light.\n\n 2 Softly the moonbeams shine\n On the still branches of the shadowy trees,\n While all sweet sounds of evening on the breeze\n Steal through the slumbering vine.\n\n 3 Thou gavest the calm repose\n That rests on all; the air, the birds, the flower,\n The human spirit in its weary hour,\n Now at the bright day's close.\n\n 4 Father! my soul would be\n Pure as the drops of eve's unsullied dew--\n And as the stars whose nightly course is true,\n So would I be to thee.\n\n 5 Not for myself alone\n Would I the blessings of thy love implore;\n But for each penitent the wide earth o'er,\n Whom thou hast called thine own.\n\n 6 And for my heart's best friends,\n Whose steadfast kindness o'er my painful years\n Has watched, to soothe affliction's griefs and tears,\n My warmest prayer ascends.\n\n 7 And now, O Father, take\n The heart I cast with humble faith on thee,\n And cleanse its depths from each impurity,\n For my Redeemer's sake.\n\n\n1318 6s & 4.\n Calvary.\n\n Whene'er I think of thee,\n O! sacred Calvary,\n Love fills my breast.\n Flow, then, the joyous tears;\n Flee, all my guilty fears;\n Saviour! thy cross appears,\n And I find rest.\n\n 2 When from thy bleeding side\n I see the crimson tide\n Streaming for me;\n Faith in thy flowing blood,\n O! spotless Lamb of God,\n Points me from earth's dark clod,\n Upward to thee.\n\n 3 When death's unsparing dart\n Pierces my fainting heart,\n Sweetly I'll sing:\n Grave! thou no terror hast;\n All fearful gloom is past;\n Victor through Christ at last,\n Death has no sting!\n\n\n1319 8s & 7s.\n Invitation.\n\n Come to Calvary's holy mountain,\n Sinners, ruined by the fall!\n Here a pure and healing fountain,\n Flows to cleanse the guilty soul;\n In a full, perpetual tide,\n Opened when the Saviour died.\n\n 2 Come in sorrow and contrition,\n Wounded, impotent, and blind;\n Here the guilty find remission,\n Here the lost a refuge find;\n Health this fountain will restore;\n He that drinks shall thirst no more.\n\n 3 Come, ye dying, live for ever,\n 'Tis a soul-reviving flood;\n God is faithful--he will never\n Break the covenant, sealed in blood;\n Signed, when our Redeemer died,\n Sealed, when he was crucified.\n\n\n1320 7s, 6 lines.\n Glory to our King.\n\n Glory, glory to our King!\n Crowns unfading wreathe his head;\n Jesus is the name we sing--\n Jesus risen from the dead;\n Jesus, Victor of the grave;\n Jesus, mighty now to save.\n\n 2 Now behold him high enthroned;\n Glory beaming from his face,\n By adoring angels owned\n God of holiness and grace:\n O for hearts and tongues to sing,\n Glory, glory to our King.\n\n 3 Jesus, on thy people shine;\n Warm our hearts and tune our tongues,\n That with angels we may join--\n Share their bliss, and swell their songs:\n Glory, honor, praise, and power,\n Lord, be thine for evermore.\n\n\n1321 8s & 7s.\n Night.\n\n Hear my prayer, O heavenly Father,\n Ere I lay me down to sleep:\n Bid thy angels pure and holy,\n Round my bed their vigil keep.\n\n 2 Great my sins are, but thy mercy\n Far outweighs them every one;\n Down before thy cross I cast them,\n Trusting in thy help alone.\n\n 3 Keep me through this night of peril,\n Underneath its boundless shade;\n Take me to thy rest, I pray thee,\n When my pilgrimage is made!\n\n 4 None shall measure out thy patience\n By the span of human thought;\n None shall bound the tender mercies\n Which thy holy Son hath wrought.\n\n 5 Pardon all my past transgressions;\n Give me strength for days to come;\n Guide and guard me with thy blessing,\n Till thine angels bid me home!\n\n\n1322 8s & 7s.\n Our Mediator.\n\n Jesus, hail! enthroned in glory,\n There for ever to abide;\n All the heavenly host adore thee,\n Seated at thy Father's side.\n\n 2 There for sinners thou art pleading;\n There thou dost our place prepare;\n Ever for us interceding,\n Till in glory we appear.\n\n 3 Worship, honor, power, and blessing,\n Thou art worthy to receive;\n Loudest praises, without ceasing,\n Meet it is for us to give.\n\n 4 Help, ye bright, angelic spirits;\n Bring your sweetest, noblest lays;\n Help to sing our Saviour's merits,\n Help to chant Immanuel's praise.\n\n\n1323 8s, 7s & 4s.\n Adoration.\n\n Let us sing the King Messiah,\n King of Righteousness and Peace;\n Hail him, all his happy subjects,\n Never let his praises cease!\n Ever hail him,\n Let his honors still increase!\n\n 2 How transcendent are thy glories!\n Fairer than the sons of men,\n While thy blessed mediation\n Brings us back to God again!\n Blessed Redeemer,\n How we triumph in thy reign!\n\n 3 Gird thy sword on, Mighty Hero,\n Make thy word of truth thy car,\n Prosper in thy course triumphant,\n All success attend thy war!\n Gracious Victor,\n Let mankind before thee bow!\n\n 4 Blessed are all that touch thy scepter,\n Blessed are all that own thy reign!\n Freed from sin, that worst of tyrants,\n Rescued from his galling chain!\n Saints and angels,\n All who know thee bless thy name!\n\n\n1324 H. M.\n Excellency of Christ.\n\n O you immortal throng\n Of angels round the throne,\n Join with our feeble song\n To make the Saviour known:\n On earth you knew his wondrous grace:\n In heaven you view his beauteous face.\n\n 2 You saw the heavenly child\n In human flesh arrayed,\n All innocent and mild,\n While in a manger laid;\n And praise to God, and peace on earth,\n Proclaimed aloud for such a birth.\n\n 3 You in the wilderness\n Beheld the tempter spoiled,\n Well known in every dress,\n In every combat foiled:\n And joyed to crown the Victor's head,\n Before his frown when Satan fled.\n\n 4 Around the bloody tree\n You pressed with strong desire,\n That wondrous sight to see--\n The Lord of life expire!\n And could your eyes have known a tear,\n In sad surprise had dropped it there.\n\n 5 Around his sacred tomb\n A willing watch you keep,\n Till the blest moment come\n To rouse him from his sleep:\n Then rolled the stone, and all adored\n With joy unknown, our rising Lord.\n\n 6 When, all arrayed in light,\n The shining Conqueror rode,\n You hailed his rapturous flight\n Up to the throne of God;\n Your golden wings you waved around,\n And struck your strings of sweetest sound.\n\n 7 The warbling notes pursue,\n And louder anthems raise,\n While mortals sing with you\n Their own Redeemer's praise.\n And you, my heart, with equal flame,\n Perform your part with joy the same.\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n\n No. No. of Hymns.\n\n I. THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. 1-23\n II. GOD.\n Being and Perfections; in Creation; in Providence;\n in Redemption. 24-116\n III. CHRIST.\n The Nativity; Life and Ministry; Sufferings; Crucifixion;\n Burial and Resurrection; Ascension; Coronation;\n Mediatorial Reign. 117-265\n IV. THE GOSPEL.\n Proclamation; Invitations; Faith and Repentance; Baptism;\n Remission of Sins; Spirit of Adoption; Hope of Eternal\n Life. 266-440\n V. THE CHURCH.\n Divine Constitution; Officers; Love, Unity and Fellowship;\n Lord's Supper; Prayer and Social Meetings; Growth and\n Future Triumphs 441-610\n VI. PUBLIC WORSHIP.\n The Lord's Day; Gratitude and Praise; Opening; Closing. 611-759\n VII. THE NEW LIFE.\n Trust and Joy; Aspirations; Temptations and Conflicts;\n Submission and Deliverance; _Relapse and Recovery_;\n Sympathies and Activities; Private Devotions;\n Afflictions. 760-1032\n VIII. THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE.\n Life and Death; Second Advent; Resurrection; Final Judgment;\n Heaven. 1033-1169\n IX. HOME.\n The Family; Morning Hymns; Evening Hymns; Youth and Age. 1170-1229\n X. TIMES AND SEASONS.\n Seed-time and Harvest; Old and New Year; Thanksgiving; Fasts;\n Missionary Assemblies; The Sea; Marriage;\n Dedications. 1230-1304\n XI. MISCELLANEOUS. 1305-1331\n\n\n\n\n INDEX OF SUBJECTS.\n\n\n (==>The Figures indicate the _Numbers_ of the Hymns.)\n\n A\n Absence from the assembly of the saints, 1013.\n Activities of Christian Life, 951-976.\n Adoption--see Spirit of Adoption.\n Advent, first, of Christ--see Christ.\n Advent, second, 1099-1105.\n Affliction, sympathy with, 1029.\n Afflictions, 993-1032.\n Blessings, 910, 1031.\n Comfort in, 154, 156, 439, 509, 802, 914, 1028, 1228.\n Age--see Youth and Age.\n Aged, Hymns for, 1203, 1229.\n Death of, 1079.\n Angels--Attendants of Christ, 255, 259.\n Song of, 119-121, 123, 126, 132, 134, 135, 137-140.\n Anniversary Hymn, 1253.\n Ascension--see Christ.\n Ashamed of Jesus, 355, 373, 381.\n Aspirations, 806-844.\n After fellowship with God, 612, 683, 688, 697, 704, 716, 764, 823,\n 834, 839, 853, 856, 859, 862, 887, 899, 928, 943, 979, 980,\n 987-989, 1032.\n After Love to Christ, 505, 804, 807, 811, 813, 814, 891.\n After Heaven, 806, 810, 812, 817, 819-822, 824-833, 836, 841, 843,\n 844, 873, 888, 917, 930-933, 1068, 1099, 1121.\n After progress in Christian experience, 816, 818, 835, 864, 881,\n 896, 915, 990.\n After the joys of Worship, 858, 924, 1013, 1122.\n Atonement--see Christ.\n\n B\n Backsliders--see Relapse and Recovery.\n Gentleness toward, 490, 975.\n Invitation to, 288, 296.\n Returning, 868.\n Baptism--Believers, 373-394.\n Christ's, 142, 377, 382, 384-387, 389.\n Benediction, 750, 752.\n Benevolence--see Sympathies and Activities.\n Bible--see Holy Scriptures.\n Birth-Day Hymn, 1174.\n Brotherly Love--see Love.\n Burial and Resurrection of Christ, 180-197.\n Burial Hymn, 1093.\n Business Meeting, 549.\n\n C\n Canaan, Heavenly, 428, 429, 431.\n Child's Prayer, 1207, 1212, 1218, 1219.\n Christ--Advent, first, 117-140.\n Advent, second, 1099-1105.\n All-Sufficiency, 222-225, 237, 247, 257, 409, 791, 891, 918.\n Ascension, 195-202.\n Atonement, 212, 215, 216, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 252, 253, 258,\n 261, 263, 363, 390-392, 512, 533, 536, 538, 543, 546, 563,\n 564, 946\n Baptism, 142, 377, 382, 384-387, 389.\n Compassion, 153, 154, 156, 225, 999.\n Condescension, 155, 638.\n Coronation, 203-207.\n Crucifixion, 168-179.\n Divinity, 215, 217, 236, 239, 246, 659, 661-663.\n Example, 143, 144, 146, 149, 150, 157, 160, 162, 164, 165, 376,\n 555, 961.\n Intercession, 219, 940, 999.\n King, 208-211, 213-215, 217, 218, 230, 243, 245, 246, 255, 256.\n Life and Ministry, 141-156.\n Mediatorial Reign, 208-265.\n Miracles, 145, 151.\n Mission, 124, 125, 129, 136, 639.\n Poverty, 148.\n Preciousness, 227, 244, 249-251, 262, 406, 412, 416, 440, 513, 518,\n 542, 634, 659, 778, 779, 787, 798, 1030.\n Priest, 228, 233, 235, 242, 997, 999.\n Prophet, Priest, and King, 226, 232.\n Refuge, 261, 262, 264, 363, 400, 439, 543, 559, 678, 912, 938.\n Resurrection, 180-194.\n Sufferings, 157-167.\n Way, 223, 248, 797.\n Worthiness, 152, 656, 668, 670, 672, 927.\n Church--441-610.\n Afflictions, 446, 459.\n Church--Constitution, 441-463.\n Delight in, 447, 452, 454, 458, 460, 463, 491, 508, 585, 595, 680,\n 686, 714.\n Deliverance of, 448.\n Fellowship, 477-511.\n Growth and Triumphs, 462, 591-610.\n God's dwelling, 684, 687, 690, 691.\n Joining, 478, 482, 516, 522.\n Ministry, 465-476.\n Ordinances--see Lord's Day, and Lord's Supper.\n Organization of one, 483, 487.\n Permanency, 455, 464.\n Closing Hymns, 715-759.\n Communion--see Love, Unity and fellowship.\n In Christ, 515, 585.\n With Christ, 544, 685, 710, 978, 981.\n With God, 561, 562, 566, 671, 765, 766, 855, 979, 983, 985, 1032.\n Completeness in Christ, 408, 409, 412, 413, 425.\n Confession--of sin, 864, 868, 871, 882, 926, 945.\n Of unbelief, 869.\n Of weakness, 872.\n Conflicts--see Temptations and Conflicts.\n Consecration to Christ, 371, 374-376, 378, 380-383, 387-391, 394,\n 398-401, 489.\n Contentment, 67, 558, 779, 785, 787.\n Contrition, 588, 864, 868, 871, 882--see, also, Relapse and Recovery.\n Coronation--see Christ.\n Creation, God in, 43-61.\n Cross--Glorying in, 355, 373, 374, 381, 390-392, 512, 543, 545, 668.\n Crucifixion--see Christ.\n\n D\n Dangers, 847, 872.\n Day of Judgment, 1114-1118.\n Deacons, 468, 475.\n Death--of the aged, 1079.\n Of Infants, 1040-1042, 1048, 1049, 1062, 1074.\n Of Ministers, 1070, 1073, 1064.\n Of a Missionary, 1083, 1095.\n Of persons in the prime of life, 1073, 1082.\n Sudden, 1070.\n Of the young, 1058.\n Dedication, 1300-1304.\n Deliverances, 114, 692, 1000, 1009, 1014--see, also, Submission and\n Deliverance.\n Despondency, 890, 1033.\n Dying--Hymns for the, 1034, 1043, 1045-1047, 1051, 1053, 1054, 1061,\n 1063, 1071, 1078, 1080, 1081, 1084, 1087, 1139, 1226.\n\n E\n Elders--Ordination of, 468, 469.\n Evening Hymns, 1189, 1210.\n Exhortation--to Faithfulness, 486, 496, 861, 866, 877, 879, 895, 896,\n 934.\n To Forbearance and Gentleness, 490, 972, 975.\n To look to Jesus, 790.\n To Mourners, 1048.\n To Perseverance, 883, 894.\n To Pray.\n To Trust, 880, 890.\n To Watch and Pray, 870, 872.\n\n F\n Faith and Repentance, 336-370.\n Faithfulness, 876, 894-896.\n Family, 1170-1175--see, also, _Morning and Evening_.\n Fasts, 1254-1265.\n Fellowship--see Communion.\n Final Judgment--see Day of Judgment.\n Foretastes, 532, 544, 572, 613, 616, 617, 679, 719.\n Forgiveness--see Remission of Sins.\n Friends--Absent, 992.\n Funeral Hymns--see Life and Death.\n Future--see Present.\n\n G\n Gentleness, 975.\n Gethsemane, 157, 159, 160, 162-167.\n Glory of God--see God.\n Glorying in the Cross--see Cross.\n God--Being and Perfections, 24-42.\n Compassion, 93-95, 1005.\n Dominion, 28, 56, 57.\n Eternity, 25, 44, 75.\n Glory and Majesty, 36, 49, 55, 60, 80, 91, 102, 675.\n Goodness, 34, 48, 52, 83, 96, 583, 609, 669.\n Greatness, 24, 31, 38, 41, 45, 46, 49, 54, 59, 62, 71.\n Holiness, 36, 56.\n Immutability, 853.\n Invisibility, 84, 983.\n Justice, 85.\n Love, 30, 42, 46, 49, 52, 61, 66, 86, 104, 107, 110, 113, 116, 147.\n Mercy, 106-116.\n Omnipotence, 43, 53, 82, 89.\n Omnipresence, 27, 33, 50, 52, 67, 573, 636.\n Omniscience, 32, 35, 40, 89.\n Providence, 62-104, 763.\n Unsearchableness, 79, 84, 90.\n Wisdom, 26, 37, 69, 105, 112.\n Word of--see Holy Scriptures.\n Works, 43-61.\n Gospel--Conditions, 336-394.\n Invitations, 273, 276-335.\n Power of, 268, 271.\n Proclamation, 266-275.\n Promises--see Remission of Sins, Spirit of Adoption, and Hope of\n Eternal Life.\n Grace, 403, 405.\n Gratitude, 634-673.\n\n H\n Harvest--see Seed-time.\n Heart-Searchings, 1114.\n Heaven, 1119-1169.\n Holy Scriptures, 1-23.\n Holy Spirit--see Spirit of Adoption.\n Home, 1170-1229.\n Hope of Eternal Life, 426-440.\n Humiliation--see Fasts.\n Humility, 588.\n\n I\n Immanuel--see Christ's Divinity.\n Infants--Death of, 1040, 1042, 1048, 1049, 1062, 1069, 1074.\n Invitations--see Gospel.\n\n J\n Jesus--see Christ.\n Joy--In Consecration, 398-400.\n In Divine Support, 770, 792, 794, 915.\n In fellowship with Christians, 508.\n In fellowship with God, 765, 766.\n In Hope, 793.\n In Pardon, 402, 404, 407, 408.\n In Submission, 777, 781, 802, 1023, 1026, 1027.\n In Tribulation, 838, 1028.\n Joys of earth--Transitory, 1035.\n\n K\n Kindness--see Sympathies and Activities, and Love, Unity and\n Fellowship.\n Kingdom of Christ--see Mediatorial Reign.\n\n L\n Liberality in giving, 971.\n Life and Death, 1034-1098.\n Life--Brevity of, 1045, 1052, 1055, 1078, 1081.\n Looking to Jesus, 790.\n Longing for the courts of the Lord, 686, 688.\n Lord's Day, 611-694, 699.\n Evening of, 615.\n Morning, early, 623.\n Lord's Prayer, 580.\n Lord's Supper, 512-546.\n Love--for Christ--see Aspirations.\n For Christians, 477-511.\n For God see--Aspirations.\n For Man, 972.\n Of Christ--see Christ.\n Of Christians, 477-511.\n Of God--see God.\n Love, Unity and Fellowship, 477-511.\n\n M\n Majesty of God--see God.\n Man--Dignity of, redeemed, 109, 413.\n Frailty and Mortality, 1035, 1045, 1052, 1055, 1089, 1098.\n Marriage, 1297-1299.\n Mediatorial Reign, 208-265.\n Meditation, 562.\n Mercy-Seat, 547, 551, 564.\n Ministers--Death of, 1064, 1073.\n Ministry--see Church.\n Missionaries--see Church.\n Death of, 1083, 1095.\n Farewell of, 1281, 1283.\n Missionary Assemblies, 1267-1287--see, also, Church, and Gospel.\n Morning Hymns, 1176-1188.\n\n N\n National Hymns--see Thanksgiving, and Fasts.\n Nativity--see Christ, Advent of.\n Nature--God seen in, 43-59.\n And Revelation--see Holy Scriptures.\n New Life, 760-1033.\n New Year, 1239-1244.\n Night--see Evening Hymns.\n\n O\n Officers of the Church, 465-476.\n Old Age, 1203, 1226, 1227, 1229.\n Old and New Year, 1239-1244.\n Omnipotence--see God.\n Omnipresence--see God.\n Omniscience--see God.\n Opening Hymns, 674-714.\n Oppression deprecated, 972, 1259, 1262.\n Ordinances--see Baptism, Lord's Day, and Lord's Supper.\n Ordination, 468, 469.\n Orphans, 962, 963, 968.\n\n P\n Pardon--see Remission of Sins.\n Parting, 430, 484, 485, 500, 502, 507.\n At close of Service, 720, 721, 724, 732, 739, 754-756.\n After Lord's Supper, 530.\n With Missionaries, 465, 466, 470, 471.\n Party spirit deprecated, 497, 501, 511.\n Passover--Christ the true, 546.\n Pastors--see Church Ministry.\n Patience, 901, 931.\n Peace and War, 951, 965, 973, 974, 1247, 1258, 1260.\n Peace--among Christians, 497, 499.\n In trouble, 414, 423, 1020.\n Of God, 760.\n Salutation of, 750.\n Perseverance, 883-885, 894-896.\n Pestilence, 1261.\n Philanthropy, 972--see, also, Sympathies and Activities.\n Pity for the erring, 975.\n Poor--see Sympathies and Activities.\n Praise--see Gratitude, and Thanksgiving.\n Calls to, 24, 29, 58, 101, 102, 650, 654, 673, 674, 681, 682,\n 700-702, 743, 927.\n Due from Man, 47, 48.\n From his works, 51-55.\n For benefits, 644, 650-652, 692, 736, 893, 922, 1225, 1230-1239,\n 1243.\n For Deliverances, 912, 1014, 1020, 1292.\n For Redemption, 643, 646, 648, 649, 927.\n Prayer at night, 1209, 1210.\n Prayer--a child's, 1207, 1212, 1218, 1219.\n For Contentment, 558, 775.\n For Deliverance, 857, 1001, 1016, 1017, 1022, 1024.\n For entire conformity to the will of God, 896, 915, 952, 990.\n For Guidance, 115, 572, 575, 587, 590, 730, 744, 773, 805, 809,\n 842, 876, 1175, 1244.\n For God's remembrance, 862, 1024.\n For Laborers, 473.\n For Strength, 584, 589, 872, 877.\n For Submissiveness, 913, 918, 920, 921.\n For support in Death, 1080, 1087.\n For Teachableness, 683, 780.\n Prayer--Hour of, 550, 561, 581, 679, 712.\n In anguish, 925, 1002, 1012, 1087.\n In Old Age, 1229.\n Invitation to, 569, 570, 574, 586.\n Lord's, paraphrased, 580.\n Secret--see Private Devotions.\n Prayer and Social Meetings, 547-590.\n Opening of, 568, 576.\n Preaching--see Proclamation.\n Present and Future, 1034-1169.\n Private Devotions, 977-992.\n Proclamation of the Gospel, 266-275.\n Procrastination deprecated, 276, 277, 279, 280, 282, 284, 297, 298,\n 302, 306, 311, 322, 323, 334, 970.\n Prodigals returning, 364, 367, 368, 868.\n Providence--see God.\n Public Worship, 611-759.\n Punishment of Wicked--see Final Judgment.\n\n R\n Reception of Members--see Love, Unity and Fellowship.\n Recovery from Sickness, 1009, 1014, 1027.\n Redemption--God in, 105-116--see Christ.\n Relapse and Recovery, 939-950.\n Remission of Sins, 395-408.\n Repentance--see Faith.\n Resurrection--of Christ, 180-197.\n Of the Just and Unjust, 1109, 1113--see, also, Second Advent.\n Resignation--see Submission.\n Retirement, 562, 577--see, also, Private Devotions.\n Retrospection, 871, 882, 903, 943, 944, 1156, 1203, 1204.\n Reunion, 705.\n\n S\n Scriptures see Holy Scriptures.\n Sea, 1288-1296.\n Seasons--see Times and Seasons.\n Seed-time and Harvest, 1230-1238.\n Self-dedication--see Consecration.\n Self examination, 981.\n Sickness, 1000, 1008, 1009, 1014, 1027, 1029.\n Sin--see Remission.\n Sons of God--see Spirit of Adoption.\n Spirit of Adoption, 409-425.\n Spiritual Blessing, 492.\n Spiritual Life, 486.\n Stewardship, 876.\n Storm, 82, 87, 1289, 1292.\n Strangers and Pilgrims, 498.\n Strife deprecated, 499.\n Submission, 68, 81, 560, 771, 777, 799, 803, 980, 998, 1011, 1023.\n Submission and Deliverance, 898-938.\n Supplication, 578, 1012, 1017, 1024.\n Surrender to Christ, 359, 360, 364, 365, 368.\n Sympathies and Activities, 951-976.\n\n T\n Temptations and Conflicts, 845-897.\n Thanksgiving, 1245-1253.\n Times and Seasons, 1230-1304.\n Trials--see Afflictions.\n Trust, 65, 66, 70, 74, 87-89, 100, 103, 104, 414, 582.\n Trust and Joy, 706-805.\n\n U\n Unbelief deplored, 869.\n Unity of Christians, 707, 723--see, also, Love, Unity and Fellowship.\n\n V\n Vanity of earthly Ambitions, 874, 893, 950, 1044, 1098.\n Vigilance, 848, 860, 861, 863, 866, 875, 884.\n\n W\n Waiting on God, 508, 566, 567, 708, 765.\n Waiting to go home, 931, 1226.\n War--see Peace.\n Warfare--Christian, 427, 557, 845-897.\n Warnings--see Gospel Invitations.\n Watching with the sick, 1029.\n Watchfulness--see Vigilance.\n Winter of the Soul, 1033.\n Wisdom of God--see God.\n Word of God--Abused, 8.\n Precious, 20, 22, 23.\n Source of Knowledge, 5, 8, 9, 11, 15, 16, 18.\n Source of Strength and Comfort, 2, 4, 6, 10, 12, 14, 17, 21.\n Spread of, 6.\n Superior to Nature, 1-3, 19.\n World Renounced, 447, 791, 808, 813, 893, 923.\n Worship, Family, 1170-1210.\n Worship--Private, 977-992.\n Public, 611-759.\n Social, 547-590.\n Wrath of God--see Final Judgment.\n\n Y\n Year--Old and New, 1239-1244.\n Youth and Age, 1211-1229.\n Youth--Death of, 1058,\n Invited, 325.\n Warned, 1215.\n\n\n\n\n INDEX OF FIRST LINES.\n\n\n ==>(The figures indicate the _Numbers_ of the Hymns.)\n\n A\n Abide with me, fast falls the eventide, _F. Lyte._ 1227\n A broken heart, my God, my King, _Watts._ 347\n A charge to keep I have, _C. Wesley._ 876\n Acquaint thee, O mortal, _Knox._ 789\n A few more years shall roll, _Bonar._ 828\n Affliction is a stormy deep, _Cotton._ 1004\n After the toil, when the morning breaks, 933\n Again our earthly cares we leave, 696\n Again the Lord of light and life, _Mrs. Barbauld._ 694\n Ah, guilty sinner, ruined by transgression, 1118\n Ah, what avails my strife, _C. Wesley._ 364\n Ah, wretched, vile, ungrateful heart, _Mrs. Steele._ 341\n Alas, and did my Saviour bleed, _Watts._ 240\n Alas, how poor and little worth, _Longfellow (Tr.)_ 1089\n Alas, what hourly dangers rise, _Mrs. Steele._ 872\n A little longer still, _Christian Register._ 931\n All around us, fair with flowers, 970\n All as God wills, who wisely heeds, _Whittier._ 904\n All hail the power of Jesus' name, _Perronet._ 203\n All ye nations, praise the Lord, _Montgomery._ 743\n All you that are weary and sad, come, 321\n All you that have confessed, 496\n Almighty Father, gracious Lord, _Mrs. Steele._ 644\n Almighty Father of mankind, _Logan._ 87\n Almighty God, thy word is cast, 733\n Almighty Maker of my frame, _Mrs. Steele._ 1045\n Almighty Sovereign of the skies, 1245\n Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, _Newton._ 403\n Am I a soldier of the cross, _Watts._ 863\n Among the mountain trees, _T. J. Edmunson._ 166\n A mother may forgetful be, _Mrs. Steele._ 446\n And are we yet alive, _C. Wesley._ 705\n And can I yet delay, _C. Wesley._ 365\n And can my heart aspire so high, _Mrs. Steele._ 1011\n And did the holy and the just, _Mrs. Steele._ 173\n And is the gospel peace and love, _Mrs. Steele._ 143\n And is there, Lord, a rest, _Palmer._ 1133\n And let our bodies part, _C. Wesley._ 739\n And must I part with all I have, _Beddome._ 360\n And now another day is gone, 1191\n And now, my soul, another year, 1240\n And will the judge descend, _Doddridge._ 300\n Angels from the realms of glory, _Montgomery._ 137\n Angels, roll the rock away, _Gibbons._ 189\n Another day is past, 1196\n Another six days' work is done, _Stennett._ 616\n A parting hymn we sing, _A. R. W._ 530\n A pilgrim through this lonely world, _Bonar._ 150\n Approach, my soul, the mercy seat, _Newton._ 564\n Arise, ye people, and adore, _F. Lyte._ 199\n Arise, ye saints, arise, 877\n Arm of the Lord, awake, awake, _Shrubsole._ 1268\n Around Bethesda's healing wave, _Barton._ 349\n As down in the sunless retreats, _Moore._ 1032\n As flows the rapid river, _S. F. Smith._ 1088\n Ashamed of Christ, our souls disdain, 381\n Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep! _Mrs. McKay._ 1038\n As much have I of worldly good, 148\n As o'er the past my memory strays, 871\n As oft with worn and weary feet, _Wilberforce._ 997\n As on the cross the Saviour hung, _Stennett._ 176\n As the hart, with eager looks, _Montgomery._ 823\n As the sweet flower that scents, _Cunningham._ 1040\n A sweetly solemn thought, _Alice Carey._ 1195\n At evening time when day is done, _Montgomery._ 1221\n Awake, and sing the song, _Hammond._ 648\n Awaked from sin's delusive sleep, _Moore._ 342\n Awake, my soul, and with the sun, _Kenn._ 1181\n Awake, my soul, to joyful lays, _Medley._ 634\n Awake, my soul, lift up thine eyes, _Mrs. Barbauld._ 847\n Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve, _Doddridge._ 866\n Awake, my tongue, thy tribute bring, _Needham._ 105\n Awake, our souls, away our fears, _Watts._ 856\n Awake, ye saints, awake, _Cotterill._ 630\n Awake, you saints, and raise your, _Doddridge._ 815\n Away from earth my spirit turns, _Palmer._ 518\n Away from his home, _W. Hunter._ 1095\n A weak and weary dove, with drooping wing, 950\n\n B\n Beautiful Zion, built above, 1157\n Before Jehovah's awful throne, _Watts._ 674\n Before thy throne, with tearful eyes, _Palmer._ 941\n Begin, my soul, the lofty strain, _Mrs. Rowe._ 53\n Behold the blind their sight receive, _Watts._ 145\n Behold the bright morning appears, 194\n Behold the day is come, _Beddome._ 1115\n Behold the glories of the Lamb, _Watts._ 236\n Behold the lofty sky, _Watts._ 19\n Behold the man! how glorious he, 171\n Behold the morning sun, _Watts._ 271\n Behold the mountain of the Lord, _M. Bruce._ 597\n Behold the Saviour of mankind, _S. Wesley, sen._ 175\n Behold the sure foundation stone, _Watts._ 444\n Behold the woman's promised seed, _Watts._ 118\n Behold, where in a mortal form, _Enfield._ 149\n Beneath the shadow of the cross, _S. Longfellow._ 956\n Benignant God of love and power, 549\n Be still, be still, for all around, 684\n Be still, my heart, these anxious cares, _Newton._ 898\n Be thou exalted, O my God, _Watts._ 675\n Beyond, beyond that boundless sea, _Conder._ 84\n Beyond the smiling and the weeping, _Bonar._ 840\n Beyond the starry skies, _Turner, varied._ 259\n Beyond where Cedron's waters flow, _S. F. Smith._ 164\n Bleeding hearts, defiled by sin, 307\n Blessed are the humble souls that see, _Watts._ 411\n Blest are the pure in heart, _Keble._ 741\n Blessed are the sons of God, _Humphreys._ 420\n Blessed be the dear uniting love, _C. Wesley._ 488\n Blessed be the everlasting God, _Watts._ 182\n Blessed be the tie that binds, _Fawcett._ 495\n Blessed be thy love, dear Lord, _John Austin._ 916\n Blessed day of God, most calm, most bright, 699\n Blessed feast of love divine, 532\n Blessed hour when mortal man retires, _Raffles._ 679\n Blessed is the hour when cares depart, _S. F. Smith._ 712\n Blessed is the man whose, _Mrs. Barbauld._ 953\n Blessed is the man who shuns the place, _Watts._ 772\n Blessed morning whose young dawning, _Watts._ 183\n Blessed Saviour, Friend divine, _W. T. Moore._ 406\n Blessed Sovereign, let my evening song, _Watts._ 1192\n Blow ye the trumpet, blow, _Altered by Toplady._ 273\n Book of grace and book of glory, 21\n Bread of heaven, on thee we feed, _Conder._ 534\n Breast the wave, Christian, when it, _Staughton._ 895\n Breathe thoughts of pity o'er a, _Edmeston._ 975\n Bright and joyful was the morn, 127\n Brightness of the Father's glory, 661\n Bright source of everlasting love, _Boden._ 954\n Bright the vision that delighted, _Ancient Hymns._ 662\n Bright was the guiding star, _Spirit of the Psalms._ 229\n Broad is the road that leads to death, _Watts._ 283\n Brother, hast thou wandered far, 948\n Burdened with guilt, wouldst thou be blest, 318\n Buried beneath the yielding wave, 382\n Burst, ye emerald gates, and bring, 202\n By cool Siloam's shady rill, _Heber._ 1211\n By faith in Christ I walk with God, _Newton._ 855\n\n C\n Call Jehovah thy salvation, _Montgomery._ 421\n Calm on the listening ear of night, _Sears._ 123\n Child amid the flowers at play, _Mrs. Hemans._ 574\n Children of the heavenly King, _Cennick._ 498\n Child of sin and sorrow, _T. Hastings._ 322\n Christian! see the Orient morning, 602\n Christians, keep your armor bright, 861\n Christian, the morn breaks sweetly o'er thee, 934\n Christian, the vision before thee, _A. S. Hayden._ 1097\n Christ leads me through no darker, _R. Baxter._ 1003\n Christ, the Lord, is risen to-day, _C. Wesley._ 190\n Cling to the crucified, 372\n Cling to the mighty One, 265\n Come, all ye saints of God, 927\n Come, and behold the place, 386\n Come, Christian brethren, ere we, _H. K. White._ 720\n Come, come, come to the Saviour, _A. D. Fillmore._ 324\n Come, dear friends, we are all brethren, 501\n Come, every pious heart, _Stennett._ 670\n Come from the East with gifts, ye Kings, 1267\n Come, happy souls, adore the Lamb, 377\n Come humble sinner, in whose breast, _Jones._ 291\n Come in, thou blessed of our God, _Kelly._ 478\n Come in, thou blessed of the Lord, _Montgomery._ 522\n Come let us anew, _C. Wesley._ 1242\n Come, let us join in songs of praise, 233\n Come, let us join our cheerful songs, _Watts._ 206\n Come, let us join our friends above, _C. Wesley._ 494\n Come, let us join with hosts above, _C. Wesley._ 1213\n Come, let us join with one accord, _C. Wesley._ 618\n Come, let us pray; 'tis sweet to feel, 569\n Come, let us to the Lord our God, _Morrison._ 357\n Come, Lord, and warm each, _Mrs. Steele._ 697\n Come, my Christian brethren, come, 824\n Come on, my partners in distress, 509\n Come, O thou King of all thy saints, _Mrs. Steele._ 693\n Come, O thou mighty Saviour, _Palmer._ 598\n Come, saints, let us join in the praise, _De Fleury._ 666\n Come, sing to me of heaven, 1135\n Come, sinners, to the gospel feast, 285\n Come, sound his praise abroad, _Watts._ 702\n Come to Calvary's holy mountain, _Montgomery._ 1319\n Come to the Ark, come to the Ark, 292\n Come to the house of prayer, _E. Taylor._ 570\n Come unto me, when shadows darkly gather, 1228\n Come, weary souls, with sin, _Mrs. Steele._ 281\n Come, we that love the Lord, _Watts._ 701\n Come, ye thankful people, come, _Henry Alford._ 1236\n Come, ye that know and fear the Lord, _G. Burder._ 113\n Come, ye disconsolate, where'er, _T. Moore._ 586\n Come, you sinners, poor and needy, _Hart._ 312\n Come, you that love the Lord indeed, 481\n Come, you that love the Saviour's, _Mrs. Steele._ 230\n Crown his head with endless blessing, 205\n\n D\n Dark and thorny is the desert, 888\n Dark was the night, and cold the ground, 160\n Daughter of Zion, awake from thy sadness, 605\n Day of judgment, day of wonders, _Newton._ 1117\n Dear as thou wast, and justly dear, _Dale._ 1056\n Dear Father, to thy mercy-seat, 1309\n Dear is the spot where Christians sleep, 1037\n Dear Jesus, ever at thy side, _Faber._ 1212\n Death can not make our souls afraid, _Watts._ 1054\n Deathless Spirit, now arise, _Toplady._ 1072\n Deem not that they are blest alone, _W. C. Bryant._ 994\n Delay not, delay not, O sinner, _T. Hastings._ 330\n Desponding soul, O cease thy woe, _T. U. Walters._ 363\n Did Christ o'er sinners weep, _Beddome._ 161\n Didst thou, Lord Jesus, suffer shame, _Kirkham._ 355\n Dismiss us with thy blessing, Lord, _Hart._ 721\n Does the gospel word proclaim, _Newton._ 369\n Do not I trust in thee, O Lord, 766\n Down the dark future, through long, _Longfellow._ 973\n Draw near, ye weary, _Mrs. St. Leon Loud._ 154\n Dropping down the troubled river, _Bonar._ 1075\n\n E\n Early, my God, without delay, _Watts._ 698\n Earth has a joy unknown in heaven, 396\n Earth, with her ten thousand flowers, 61\n Ere mountains reared their forms sublime, _F. Lyte._ 25\n Ere to the world again we go, 717\n Eternal Father, strong to save, _Hymns, anc. & mod._ 1288\n Eternal Lord, from land to land, 592\n Eternal Lord, whose power, _Ray Palmer._ 1283\n Eternal Source of every joy, _Doddridge._ 1230\n Eternal Source of life and light, 730\n Eternal Wisdom, thee we praise, _Watts._ 112\n Every day hath toil and trouble, _Bailey._ 976\n Exalted Prince of life, we own, _Doddridge._ 210\n\n F\n Fading, still fading, the last beam is shining, 1210\n Faintly flow, thou falling river, 1205\n Fair shines the morning star, _Montgomery._ 326\n Faith adds new charms to earthly bliss, _Watts._ 352\n Fallen on Zion's battle field, _J. N. Maffitt._ 1073\n Far as thy name is known, _Watts._ 458\n Far down the ages now, _Bonar._ 459\n Farewell, my friends, time rolls along, 507\n Far, far o'er hill and dale, 1098\n Far from mortal cares retreating, _J. Taylor._ 709\n Far from my heavenly home, _Hymns, anc. & mod._ 1068\n Far from my thoughts, vain world, _Watts._ 977\n Far from these narrow scenes, _Mrs. Steele._ 429\n Far from the world, O Lord, I flee, _Cowper._ 985\n Father divine, thy piercing eye, _Doddridge._ 986\n Father, glory be to thee, _Gaskell._ 749\n Father, hear our humble claim, 707\n Father, how wide thy glory shines, _Watts._ 111\n Father, I know that all my life, _A. L. Waring._ 775\n Father, I know thy ways are just, 908\n Father, in thy mysterious presence, _S. Johnson._ 584\n Father, I wait before thy throne, _Watts._ 415\n Father of love, our Guide and Friend, 773\n Father, O hear me now, _Anna W. Hall._ 925\n Father of mercies, bow thine ear, _Beddome._ 467\n Father of mercies, God of love, _Raffles._ 81\n Father of mercies, in thy word, _Mrs. Steele._ 10\n Father of spirits, humbly bent, _Bowring._ 671\n Father of spirits, nature's God, 27\n Father of the human race, _Collyer._ 1299\n Father supreme, thou high and holy One, 1209\n Father, to us thy children, humbly, _J. F. Clarke._ 589\n Father, whate'er of earthly bliss, _Mrs. Steele._ 558\n Father, whene'er our trembling, _Bulfinch._ 869\n Flee as a bird to your mountain, 1316\n Fling out the banner, let it float, _Doane._ 267\n For a season called to part, _Newton._ 748\n For ever with the Lord, _Montgomery._ 873\n Forgiveness, 'tis a joyful sound, _Gibbons._ 395\n Forth from the dark and stormy sky, _Heber._ 678\n Forth in thy name, O Lord, I go, _C. Wesley._ 1178\n For thy mercy and thy grace, _Henry Downton._ 1244\n For Zion's sake I will not rest, _J. Quarles._ 595\n Fountain of light and living breath, 764\n Fountain of life and God of love, 1232\n Friend after friend departs, _Montgomery._ 1090\n From all that dwell below the skies, _Watts._ 718\n From Calvary a cry was heard, _Montgomery._ 168\n From every stormy wind that blows, _Stowell._ 547\n From Greenland's icy mountains, _Heber._ 1285\n From the cross uplifted high, _Haweis._ 303\n From the recesses of a lowly spirit, _Bowring._ 588\n From the regions of love, lo! an angel, 139\n From the table now retiring, 535\n Full of trembling expectation, _C. Wesley._ 1024\n\n G\n Gently, gently lay thy rod, _F. Lyte._ 1022\n Gently, Lord, O gently lead us, _Hastings._ 1175\n Gently, my Saviour, let me down, _Hill._ 1034\n Gird on thy conquering sword, _Doddridge._ 609\n Give me the wings of faith to rise, _Watts._ 817\n Give to our God immortal praise, _Watts._ 107\n Give to the Lord thine heart, 299\n Give to the winds thy fears, _Gerhardt._ 880\n Glorious in thy saints appear, _Newton._ 747\n Glorious things of thee are spoken, _Newton._ 460\n Glory, glory everlasting, 664\n Glory, glory to our King, _Kelly._ 1320\n Glory to God on high, 668\n Glory to God who deigns to bless, 734\n Glory to thee, my God, this night, _Kenn._ 1189\n Glory to thee, whose powerful word, _C. Wesley._ 1289\n Go, and the Saviour's grace proclaim, _Morell._ 1270\n God bless our native land, _Dwight._ 1250\n God calling yet; shall I, _From the German._ 339\n God doth not leave his own, 802\n God eternal, Lord of all, _J. E. Millard._ 60\n God in the gospel of his Son, _Beddome._ 268\n God is in his holy temple, 711\n God is in the loneliest spot, _Conder._ 991\n God is love; his mercy brightens, _Bowring._ 116\n God is the fountain whence, 96\n God is the refuge of his saints, _Watts._ 442\n God moves in a mysterious way, _Cowper._ 79\n God! my supporter and my hope, _Watts._ 114\n God of mercy, do thou never, _Pierpont._ 1253\n God of mercy, God of love, _J. Taylor._ 882\n God of my childhood and my youth, _Watts._ 1223\n God of my life, thy boundless grace, 412\n God of my life, to thee, 1174\n God of my life, to thee I call, _Cowper._ 995\n God of our salvation, 897\n God of our salvation, hear us, _Kelly._ 756\n God of the morning, at whose voice, 1179\n God of the prophet's power, 1272\n God's law demands one living faith, _Briggs._ 7\n God, that madest earth and heaven, _Heber._ 1201\n God with us! O glorious name, 130\n Go, messenger of peace and love, _Balfour._ 466\n Go on, you pilgrims, while below, 486\n Go to dark Gethsemane, _Montgomery._ 162\n Go to the grave, in all thy, _Montgomery._ 1082\n Go to thy rest, fair child, 1069\n Go to thy rest in peace, 1094\n Go up, go up, my heart, _Bonar._ 833\n Go watch and pray; thou canst not tell, 1224\n Go when the morning shineth, 579\n Go with thy servant, Lord, 471\n Grace! 'tis a charming sound, _Doddridge._ 405\n Gracious Saviour, we adore thee, _Cutting._ 394\n Gracious Source of every blessing, 1229\n Greatest of beings, Source of life, _Watts._ 46\n Great God, attend while Zion sings, _Watts._ 680\n Great God! how infinite art thou, _Watts._ 39\n Great God! the followers of thy, _H. Ware, jr._ 677\n Great God! thy penetrating eye, _E. Scott._ 40\n Great God! we sing that mighty, _Doddridge._ 1239\n Great God! whose universal sway, _Watts._ 213\n Great is the Lord, our God, _Watts._ 452\n Great Maker of unnumbered worlds, 1255\n Great Ruler of all nature's frame, _Doddridge._ 82\n Great Source of boundless power, _Mrs. Steele._ 1001\n Great Source of life and light, 418\n Great was the day, the joy was great, _Watts._ 269\n Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, _Oliver._ 115\n Guide us, Lord, while hand in hand, 745\n\n H\n Had I ten thousand gifts beside, _Chatham._ 257\n Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews, _Watts._ 480\n Happy are they who learn in thee, 1007\n Happy soul, thy days are ended, _C. Wesley._ 1077\n Happy the child whose tender years, _Watts._ 1312\n Happy the Church, thou sacred place, _Watts._ 441\n Happy the home when God is there, 1171\n Happy the saints whose lot is cast, 719\n Happy the souls to Jesus joined, _C. Wesley._ 491\n Hail, gracious, heavenly Prince, 1217\n Hail, morning known among the, _Wardlaw._ 614\n Hail, ransomed world, awake to glory, 328\n Hail, sacred truth, whose piercing rays, 13\n Hail, sweetest, dearest tie that binds, _Sutton._ 430\n Hail the blest morn, when the great Mediator, 138\n Hail the day that saw him rise, _C. Wesley._ 628\n Hail, thou long expected Jesus, _C. Wesley._ 136\n Hail to the brightness of Zion's, _T. Hastings._ 608\n Hail to the Prince of life and, _Doddridge._ 218\n Hail, tranquil hour of closing day, _L. Bacon._ 1193\n Hallelujah! best and sweetest, _Breviary._ 924\n Hark, from the world on high, _W. T. Moore._ 140\n Hark, hark, the notes of joy, 132\n Hark, hark, the voice of ceaseless praise, 1131\n Hark how the gospel trumpet sounds, _Medley._ 272\n Hark how the watchmen cry, _C. Wesley._ 878\n Hark, sinner, while God from, _J. B. Hague._ 334\n Hark, ten thousand harps and voices, _Kelly._ 663\n Hark the glad sound! the Saviour, _Doddridge._ 124\n Hark, the herald angels sing, _C. Wesley._ 126\n Hark, the song of jubilee, _Montgomery._ 600\n Hark, the voice of love and mercy, _Evans._ 178\n Hark, what joyful notes are swelling, _W. T. Moore._ 134\n Hark, what mean those holy voices, _Cawood._ 135\n Hark, ye mortals, hear the trumpet, 1116\n Hasten, Lord, the glorious time, _F. Lyte._ 599\n Haste, O sinner, to be wise, _T. Scott._ 306\n Haste, traveler, haste, the night, _Collyer._ 276\n Have you heard, have you heard of that, 1162\n Have we no tears to shed for him, _Lyra Cath._ 170\n Head of the Church triumphant, _C. Wesley._ 742\n Hear, Father, hear our prayer, 587\n Hear, gracious God, a sinner's cry, 344\n Hear my prayer, O heavenly, _Thos. Park._ 1321\n Hear, O sinner, mercy hails you, _Reed._ 316\n Hear the royal proclamation, 274\n Hear what God the Lord hath spoken, _Cowper._ 601\n Heavenly Father, to whose eye, _Conder._ 572\n He bids us come, his voice we know, 795\n He came not with his heavenly crown, _Doane._ 155\n He dies! the Friend of sinners dies, _Watts._ 172\n He has come, the Christ of God, _Bonar._ 129\n He knelt! the Saviour knelt, _Mrs. Hemans._ 165\n He leadeth me, O blessed thought, 768\n He lives, the great Redeemer lives, _Mrs. Steele._ 212\n Help us, O Lord, thy yoke to wear 964\n Here behold me as I cast, _Joachim Neander._ 891\n Here I sink before thee lowly, 539\n Here is my heart, I give it thee, 348\n Here, O my Lord, I see thee face to face, 544\n Here, Saviour, we would come, 388\n Here we are but straying, _I. N. Carman._ 829\n He sendeth sun, he sendeth, _Sarah F. Adams._ 68\n He that goeth forth with weeping, _Hastings._ 969\n He who on earth as man was known, _Newton._ 246\n High as the heavens above the ground, _Watts._ 1264\n High in yonder realms of light, _Raffles._ 1138\n Holy Bible! book divine, 20\n Holy Father, thou hast taught me, 887\n Holy Lord, our hearts prepare, 576\n Honor and happiness unite, _Cowper._ 413\n Hope of our hearts, O Lord, appear, 1099\n Ho, reapers of life's harvest, 476\n Hosanna, raise the pealing hymn, 234\n Hosanna to our conquering King, _Watts._ 243\n Hosanna to the Prince of light, _Watts._ 185\n How are thy servants blest, O Lord, _Addison._ 1292\n How beauteous are their feet, _Watts._ 270\n How beauteous were the marks, _A. C. Coxe._ 144\n How blest are they whose transient, _Norton._ 1042\n How blest the righteous when, _Mrs. Barbauld._ 1039\n How blest the sacred tie that, _Mrs. Barbauld._ 479\n How bright these glorious spirits shine, 909\n How calm and beautiful the morn, _T. Hastings._ 186\n How charming is the place, _Stennett._ 454\n How did my heart rejoice to hear, _Watts._ 445\n How firm a foundation, ye saints of, _Kirkham._ 792\n How free and boundless is the grace, _Beddome._ 287\n How gentle God's commands, _Doddridge._ 92\n How gracious and how wise, _Doddridge._ 1018\n How happy are they who their, _C. Wesley._ 408\n How happy every child of grace, _C. Wesley._ 404\n How happy is the Christian's state, 402\n How happy is the pilgrim's lot, _C. Wesley._ 1061\n How honored, how dear is that sacred, _Conder._ 585\n How honored is the place, _Watts._ 457\n How long, O Lord, our Saviour, 831\n How oft, alas! this wretched heart, _Mrs. Steele._ 868\n How painfully pleasing the fond recollection, 23\n How pleased and blest was I, _Watts._ 627\n How pleasing to behold and see, _Dobell._ 515\n How pleasant, how divinely fair, _Watts._ 686\n How precious is the book divine, _Fawcett._ 9\n How shall I my Saviour set forth, _Maxwell._ 659\n How shall the young secure their hearts, _Watts._ 15\n How short and hasty is our life, _Watts._ 1052\n How sweet, how heavenly is the sight, _Swain._ 493\n How sweetly flowed the gospel sound, _Bowring._ 141\n How sweet the gospel trumpet sounds, 1279\n How sweet the name of Jesus sounds, _Newton._ 247\n How sweet the praise, how high, _B. Skene._ 638\n How sweet to be allowed to pray, 560\n How sweet to leave the world awhile, _Kelly._ 548\n How tender is thy hand, _T. Hastings._ 1015\n How vain is all beneath the skies, 426\n How various and how new, _Stennett._ 652\n How vast is the tribute I owe, 1027\n Humble souls, who seek salvation, _Fawcett._ 393\n Hungry, and faint, and poor, 703\n Hush the loud cannon's roar, _Johns._ 965\n\n I\n I am a stranger here, 1154\n I am thy workmanship, O Lord, _Conder._ 816\n I am weary of straying, O fain, 837\n I can not always trace the way, _Charlotte Elliott._ 86\n \"I come,\" the great Redeemer cries, 385\n I come to thee, to-night, 1317\n I did thee wrong, my God, _Bonar._ 926\n If human kindness meets return, _R. W. Noel._ 520\n If life's pleasures charm you, _F. S. Key._ 439\n If 'tis sweet to mingle where, 571\n I have no resting place on earth, _W. Baxter._ 819\n I hear thee speak of the better, _Mrs. Hemans._ 1158\n I journey forth, _Hymns from Land of Luther._ 1139\n I know not if or dark or bright, 803\n I know that my Redeemer lives, _Medley._ 219\n I'll praise my Maker while I've, _Watts._ 72\n I look to thee in every need, 912\n I love the volume of thy word, _Watts._ 8\n I love thy kingdom, Lord, _Dwight._ 453\n I love to steal awhile away, _Mrs. Brown._ 562\n I love to think of heaven, 1134\n I'm but a stranger here, _T. R. Taylor._ 1146\n I'm not ashamed to own my Lord, _Watts._ 865\n In all my Lord's appointed ways, _Ryland._ 380\n In all my ways, O God, 1173\n In every trouble, sharp and strong, 1010\n In expectation sweet, _Kelly._ 1109\n Infinite excellence is thine, _Fawcett._ 237\n In heavenly love abiding, 785\n In hymns of praise, eternal God, 119\n In Jordan's tide the Baptist, _Rippon's Coll._ 142\n In memory of the Saviour's love, 524\n In seasons of grief, to my God I'll, _Hunter._ 264\n In silence of the voiceless night, 980\n In sweet, exalted strains, _Francis._ 1301\n In that world of ancient story, _Miss H. M. Bolman._ 1152\n In the Christian's home in glory, 1149\n In thee, O Lord, I put my trust, _W. T. Moore._ 845\n In the floods of tribulation, _Pearce._ 1026\n In thy name, O Lord, assembling, _Kelly._ 713\n In time of fear, when trouble's near, _Hastings._ 788\n In trouble and in grief, O God, 910\n I praise thy name, O God of light, 1180\n I saw the cross of Jesus, _F. Whitfield._ 543\n I sing the almighty power of God, _Watts._ 50\n Is it a long way off, 1153\n Israel's Shepherd, guide me, feed, _Beckersteth._ 751\n Israel the desert trod, 778\n Is there a lone and dreary hour, _Mrs. Gilman._ 761\n It came upon the midnight clear, _E. H. Sears._ 120\n I think when I read that sweet story of old, 1220\n It is finished, man of sorrows, _T. H. Hedge._ 533\n It is not death to die, _Bethune._ 1066\n It is the hour of prayer, 568\n It is the Lord, enthroned in light, _Green._ 906\n I will extol thee, Lord on high, 1000\n I will not let thee go, thou help, _Desyler._ 798\n I would not live alway, I ask not, _Muhlenberg._ 836\n\n J\n Jehovah reigns, he dwells in light, _Watts._ 44\n Jehovah reigns, his throne is high, _Watts._ 28\n Jerusalem, my glorious home, 821\n Jerusalem, my happy home, 820\n Jesus, and shall it ever be, _Gregg._ 373\n Jesus, cast a look on me, _Berridge._ 780\n Jesus, guide our way, _Count Zinzendorf._ 805\n Jesus, hail! enthroned in glory, _Bakewell._ 1322\n Jesus has died for me, _W. T. Moore._ 541\n Jesus has died that I might live, _C. Wesley._ 814\n Jesus, I love thy charming name, _Doddridge._ 251\n Jesus, immortal King, arise, _Burder._ 245\n Jesus, I my cross have, _F. Lyte._ 923\n Jesus, in thee our eyes behold, _Watts._ 242\n Jesus, in thy transporting name, _Mrs. Steele._ 238\n Jesus invites his saints, _Watts._ 529\n Jesus, Lamb of God, for me, _Ray Palmer._ 390\n Jesus, Lord, we look to thee, _C. Wesley._ 499\n Jesus, lover of my soul, _C. Wesley._ 262\n Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone, _Cennick._ 375\n Jesus, my love, my chief delight, _Beddome._ 807\n Jesus, my strength, my hope, _C. Wesley._ 567\n Jesus, our Lord, ascend thy throne, _Watts._ 204\n Jesus, Saviour, all divine, _T. Hastings._ 990\n Jesus shall reign where'er the sun, _Watts._ 209\n Jesus, Sun of Righteousness, _Rosenmoth._ 1188\n Jesus, take me for thine own, 918\n Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear, _May L. Duncan._ 1207\n Jesus, the Friend of man, _Watts._ 526\n Jesus, these eyes have never seen, _Ray Palmer._ 776\n Jesus, the spring of joys divine, _Mrs. Steele._ 220\n Jesus, the very thought is sweet, _Bernard._ 227\n Jesus, thou art the sinner's Friend, _Burnham._ 241\n Jesus, thou joy of loving hearts, _Bernard._ 513\n Jesus, thou Shepherd of the sheep, _Collyer._ 482\n Jesus, thou Source of calm repose, 225\n Jesus, thy blessings are not few, _Watts._ 295\n Jesus, to thy wounds I fly, _C. Wesley._ 391\n Jesus wept! those tears are over, 156\n Jesus, where'er thy people meet, _Cowper._ 551\n Joyfully, joyfully, onward I move, 793\n Joy to the world, the Lord is come, _Watts._ 125\n Judges who rule the world by laws, _Watts._ 1259\n Just as I am, without one plea, _Charlotte Elliott._ 343\n\n K\n Keep us, Lord, O keep us ever, 755\n Kind Father, look with pity now, _W. T. Moore._ 864\n Kindred in Christ, for his dear sake, _Newton._ 477\n King Jesus, reign for evermore, _Wardlaw's Coll._ 208\n Know ye that better land, 1136\n\n L\n Lamb of God, whose bleeding love, _C. Wesley._ 537\n Lamp of our feet, whereby we trace, _Barton._ 16\n Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us, _Edmeston._ 842\n Let earthly minds the world pursue, _Newton._ 647\n Let earth, with every isle and sea, _Watts._ 255\n Let everlasting glories crown, _Watts._ 221\n Let every heart and tongue, _W. T. Moore._ 651\n Let every heart rejoice and sing, _Washburne._ 1248\n Let every mortal ear attend, _Watts._ 286\n Let me be with thee, when, _Charlotte Elliott._ 810\n Let me go, my soul is weary, _W. Baxter._ 825\n Let my life be hid in thee, 989\n Let not your hearts with anxious, _Wardlaw's Coll._ 1060\n Let others boast their ancient line, _Cruttenden._ 425\n Let party names no more, _Beddome._ 497\n Let the land mourn through all, _Montgomery._ 1261\n Let the whole race of creatures lie, _Watts._ 89\n Let thoughtless thousands choose, _Hopkins._ 338\n Let us awake our joys, _Kingsbury._ 667\n Let us sing the King Messiah, 1323\n Let us with a joyful mind, _Milton._ 97\n Let Zion and her sons rejoice, _Watts._ 594\n Life is a span, a fleeting hour, _Mrs. Steele._ 1055\n Life is the time to serve the Lord, _Watts._ 284\n Lift up your heads, ye gates, _Montgomery._ 196\n Lift up your stately heads, ye doors, 197\n Light of the lonely pilgrim's heart, 1271\n Light of them that sit in darkness, 1282\n Like morning, when her early breeze, _Moore._ 409\n Like Noah's weary dove, _Muhlenberg._ 456\n Like sheep, we went astray, _Watts._ 258\n Listen to the gospel telling, _W. T. Moore._ 315\n Lo! he comes with clouds, _Olivers._ 1104\n Lo! he cometh! countless trumpets, 1103\n Long as I live I'll praise thy name, _Watts._ 645\n Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest, 791\n Look from on high, great God, _Rippon's Coll._ 688\n Look, ye saints, the sight is glorious, _Kelly._ 207\n Lord, a little band and lowly, 1218\n Lord, all I am is known to thee, 35\n Lord, at this closing hour, _E. T. Fitch._ 735\n Lord, at thy table we behold, _Stennett._ 523\n Lord, bless thy saints assembled here, 483\n Lord, cause thy face on us to shine, 723\n Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing, _Burder._ 754\n Lord, how delightful 'tis to see, _Watts._ 722\n Lord, I am thine, entirely thine, _Davies._ 397\n Lord, I have foes without, within, _Montgomery._ 853\n Lord, I have made thy word my choice, _Watts._ 12\n Lord, in whose might the Saviour trod, _Bulfinch._ 414\n Lord, lead the way the Saviour went, _Croswell._ 955\n Lord, let thy goodness lead our land, 1307\n Lord, let thy Spirit penetrate, _Bonar._ 417\n Lord, Lord, defend the desolate, _Milton._ 1262\n Lord, may the Spirit of this feast, _Mrs. Sigourney._ 519\n Lord, my weak thought in vain, _Ray Palmer._ 26\n Lord, now we part in thy blest name, _Heber._ 724\n Lord of all being, throned afar, _O. W. Holmes._ 636\n Lord of eternal truth and might, _Breviary._ 1177\n Lord of hosts, to thee we raise, _Montgomery._ 1304\n Lord of my life, O may thy praise, _Mrs. Steele._ 1182\n Lord of the harvest, hear, _C. Wesley._ 473\n Lord of the harvest, thee we hail, _J. H. Gurney._ 1237\n Lord of the worlds above, _Watts._ 714\n Lord, thou hast bid thy people pray, _C. Wesley._ 1257\n Lord, thou hast formed mine every, _E. A. Scott._ 33\n Lord, thou hast searched and seen me, _Watts._ 32\n Lord, we come before thee now, _Hammond._ 708\n Lord, we expect a day, 822\n Lord, what is man? extremes how, _Newton._ 109\n Lord, when my thoughts delighted, _Mrs. Steele._ 345\n Lord, when together here we meet, 732\n Lord, while for all mankind we pray, _Welford._ 1265\n Lord, whom winds and seas obey, _C. Wesley._ 1295\n Lo! round the throne a glorious band, 1121\n Lo! the Seal of death is breaking, 1112\n Love divine, all love excelling, _C. Wesley._ 710\n Love for all! and can it be, _S. Longfellow._ 367\n Love of God! all love excelling, _W. T. Moore._ 1274\n Lonely and solemn be, _Mrs. Hemans._ 1087\n\n M\n Majestic sweetness sits enthroned, _Stennett._ 250\n Make channels for the streams of love, _French._ 958\n Mary to the Saviour's tomb, _Newton._ 192\n May the grace of Christ our Saviour, _Newton._ 752\n Meekly in Jordan's flowing stream, _S. F. Smith._ 384\n Mercy alone can meet my case, _Montgomery._ 361\n 'Mid scenes of confusion, and creature, _Denham._ 510\n Mistaken souls that dream of heaven, _Watts._ 354\n Morning breaks upon the tomb, _Collyer._ 191\n Mortals, awake, with angels join, _Medley._ 121\n Must Simon bear the cross alone, _G. N. Allen._ 889\n My Christian friends in bonds of love, 485\n My country, 'tis of thee, _S. F. Smith._ 1251\n My days are gliding swiftly by, _Nelson._ 800\n My dear Redeemer and my Lord, _Watts._ 146\n My faith looks up to thee, _Ray Palmer._ 542\n My feet are worn and weary with the march, 843\n My few revolving years, _Beddome._ 1241\n My God, how endless is thy love, _Watts._ 1306\n My God, how excellent thy grace, _Watts._ 106\n My God, how wonderful thou art, 80\n My God, in whom are all the springs, 64\n My God, is any hour so sweet, _Charlotte Elliott._ 581\n My God, my Father, while I, _Charlotte Elliott._ 900\n My God, my heart with love inflame, 979\n My God, my King, thy various praise, _Watts._ 635\n My God, my strength, my hope, _C. Wesley._ 915\n My God, permit my tongue, _Watts._ 704\n My God, the spring of all my joys, _Watts._ 769\n My God, thy boundless love I praise, _H. Moore._ 42\n My God, thy service well demands, _Doddridge._ 1009\n My gracious Redeemer I love, _Francis._ 657\n My heavenly home is bright and fair, 1124\n My Jesus, as thou wilt, _B. Schmolk._ 921\n My only Saviour, when I feel, 557\n My opening eyes with rapture see, 612\n My precious Lord, for thy dear name, 553\n My Prophet thou, my heavenly guide, 226\n My rest is heaven, my home is not here, _F. Lyte._ 838\n My Saviour, my almighty Friend, _Watts._ 249\n My Shepherd's mighty aid, _J. Roberts._ 781\n My spirit longs for thee, _John Byrom._ 834\n My spirit looks to God alone, _Watts._ 996\n My spirit on thy care, _F. Lyte._ 779\n My soul, be on thy guard, _Heath._ 875\n My soul, how lovely is the place, _Watts._ 691\n My soul, it is thy God, 881\n My soul, repeat his praise, _Watts._ 95\n My soul, triumphant in the Lord, _Doddridge._ 436\n My times are in thy hand, 914\n My times of sorrow and joy, _Beddome._ 1006\n\n N\n Nature with all her powers shall sing, _Watts._ 45\n Nay, tell us not of dangers dire, _Lamar._ 867\n Nearer, my God, to thee, _Mrs. S. F. Adams._ 928\n Near the cross our station taking, 536\n New every morning is the love, _Keble._ 1176\n Night with ebon pinion, _L. H. Jameson._ 163\n No bitter tears for thee be shed, _Mrs. Hemans._ 1049\n No change of time shall ever, _Tate & Brady._ 65\n No night shall be in heaven, 1169\n No, no, it is not dying, _Malon._ 1092\n No seas again shall sever, _Bonar._ 1144\n No shadows yonder, _Bonar._ 1148\n No sickness there, _Neal._ 1160\n Not all the blood of beasts, _Watts._ 531\n Not for the pious dead we weep, _Mrs. Barbauld._ 1059\n Not for the summer hour alone, _Mrs. Sigourney._ 1298\n Not here, not here! not where the sparkling, 839\n Not to condemn the sons of men, _Watts._ 147\n Not to the terrors of the Lord, _Watts._ 449\n Now, as long as here I roam, _Gerhardt._ 799\n Now be my heart inspired to sing, 211\n Now begin the heavenly theme, _Langford._ 653\n Now for a song of lofty praise, _Watts._ 181\n Now from labor and from care, _T. Hastings._ 1198\n Now I have found a Friend, _Ryle._ 440\n Now I have found the ground, _C. Wesley._ 400\n Now is the accepted time, _Dobel._ 297\n Now is the day of grace, 298\n Now let each happy guest, 527\n Now let our cheerful eyes survey, _Doddridge._ 235\n Now let our souls on wings sublime, _Gibbons._ 806\n Now may he, who from the dead, _Newton._ 746\n Now may the Lord, our Shepherd, _Montgomery._ 715\n Now the shades of night are gone, 1186\n Now to heaven our prayer ascending, 1278\n Now to thy heavenly Father's praise, _Mrs. Steele._ 1014\n Now to the Lord, who makes, 340\n\n O\n O be not faithless with the morn, _B. Barton._ 959\n O bless the Lord, my soul, let all, _Watts._ 93\n O bless the Lord, my soul, his, _Montgomery._ 650\n O blest the souls, for ever blest, 685\n O bow thine ear, eternal One, _Pierpont._ 1302\n O Christ, our King, Creator, Lord, _Ray Palmer._ 215\n O come in life's gay morning, 325\n O come, loud anthems let us sing, _Tate & Brady._ 682\n O could I find from day to day, 987\n O could I speak the matchless worth, _Medley._ 152\n O could our thoughts and wishes fly, _Mrs. Steele._ 1128\n O day of rest and gladness, _Wordsworth._ 633\n O do not let the world depart, 280\n O'er the gloomy hills of darkness, _Williams._ 1280\n O, eyes that are weary, and hearts that are sore, 790\n O Father, gladly we repose, _G. Gaskell._ 763\n O Father, though the anxious fear, 620\n O Father, with protecting care, 687\n O for a closer walk with God, _Cowper._ 943\n O for a faith that will not shrink, _Bath Coll._ 353\n O for a heart to praise my God, _C. Wesley._ 811\n O for an overcoming faith, _Watts._ 1063\n O for the peace that floweth as a river, _Bonar._ 930\n Of thy love, some gracious token, _Kelley._ 759\n Oft in sorrow, oft in woe, 883\n O God, by whom the seed is given, _Heber._ 731\n O God, my heart is fully bent, _Tate & Brady._ 38\n O God of Bethel, by whose hand, _Doddridge._ 73\n O God of love! O King of peace! 1258\n O God, thy grace and blessing give, 1046\n O God, unseen, yet ever near, 521\n O God, we praise thee and confess, _Patrick._ 36\n O gracious Lord, whose mercies rise, 962\n O happy children who follow Jesus, 508\n O happy day that fixed my choice, _Doddridge._ 398\n O happy is the man who hears, 1216\n O happy they who know the Lord, 492\n O, he whom Jesus loved has truly, _Whittier._ 972\n O holy Saviour, Friend unseen, 371\n O how divine, how sweet the joy, _Needham._ 358\n O how I love thy holy law, _Watts._ 14\n O how kindly hast thou led me, _Grinfield._ 922\n O Israel, to thy tents repair, _Kelly._ 850\n O Jesus, King most wonderful, _Breviary._ 244\n O Jesus, Saviour of the lost, _Bickersteth._ 559\n O let my trembling soul be still, _Bowring._ 902\n O Jesus, the giver of all we enjoy, 665\n O let the joyful tidings fill the wide, 610\n O let your mingling voices rise, 639\n O Lord, and shall thy spirit rest, _Mrs. Steele._ 410\n O Lord, and will thy pardoning love, 383\n O Lord, another day is flown, _H. K. White._ 1315\n O Lord, how full of sweet, _Madame Guyon._ 67\n O Lord, how happy should we be, 582\n O Lord, I would delight in thee, 566\n O Lord, thy heavenly grace impart, _J. F. Oberlin._ 765\n O Lord, thy perfect word, _Beddome._ 18\n O Lord, thy precepts I survey, _Watts._ 17\n O Lord, when faith, with fixed eyes, 169\n O Lord, thy counsels, 899\n O love beyond conception great, 108\n O love divine, how sweet thou art, _C. Wesley._ 505\n O love divine, that stooped to, _O. W. Holmes._ 66\n O love of God, how strong and true, _Bonar._ 110\n O may the power which melts the rock, 1256\n O mourner, who with tender love, 1048\n O my soul, what means this sadness, _Fawcett._ 890\n Once the angel started back, _Bishop Williams._ 546\n One baptism and one faith, _E. Robinson._ 511\n One there is above all others, _Newton._ 263\n On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, _Stennett._ 431\n Only waiting till the shadows, 1226\n O North, with all thy vales of, _W. C. Bryant._ 256\n O, not to fill the mouth of fame, 771\n On the mountain's top appearing, _Kelly._ 604\n Onward, Christian, though the, _S. Johnson._ 885\n Onward, onward, men of heaven, _Mrs. Sigourney._ 1275\n Onward speed thy conquering, _S. F. Smith._ 1286\n On Zion's glorious summit stood, _Kent._ 1120\n O peace of God, sweet peace of God, 760\n O praise our God to-day, 966\n O present still, though still unseen, _W. Scott._ 725\n O render thanks to God above, _Tate & Brady._ 637\n O sacred day of peace and joy, 613\n O sacred Head, now wounded, _Gerhardt._ 177\n O Saviour, lend a listening ear, _T. Hastings._ 945\n O Saviour, whose mercy severe in its, _Grant._ 893\n O shadow in a sultry land, 1313\n O source divine and life of all, _Sterling._ 30\n O strong to save and bless, _Bonar._ 786\n O suffering Friend of human kind, _Bulfinch._ 157\n O sweetly breathe the lyres above, _Palmer._ 399\n O tell me no more of this world's, _Gambold._ 841\n O that I could for ever dwell, _Reed._ 981\n O that I had wings like a dove, _W. T. Moore._ 826\n O there's a better world on high, 433\n O think that while you're weeping, _Dr. Huie._ 1085\n O this is blessing, this is rest, _Anna L. Waring._ 762\n O thou Fount of every blessing, _Robinson._ 660\n O thou from whom all goodness flows, _Hawes._ 862\n O thou in whose presence my soul takes delight, 1030\n O thou my Light, my Life, my Joy, 74\n O thou pure light of souls that love, _Breviary._ 554\n O thou that hearest prayer, 424\n O thou that hearest when sinners cry, _Watts._ 939\n O thou to whom in ancient times, _Ware._ 676\n O thou to whose all searching sight, _C. Wesley._ 809\n O thou who driest the mourner's tear, _Moore._ 1005\n O thou who in the olive shade, _Mrs. Hemans._ 1012\n O thou whose own vast temple, _W. C. Bryant._ 1303\n O thou whose tender mercy hears, _Mrs. Steele._ 942\n O turn you, O turn you, for why will you die, 329\n Our blest Redeemer, ere he breathed, 422\n Our Christ hath reached his, _Frothingham._ 450\n Our earth we now lament to see, _C. Wesley._ 1260\n Our Father God, not face to face, _E. H. Chapin._ 983\n Our Father in heaven, _S. J. Hale._ 580\n Our Fathers, where are they, 1067\n Our God, our help in ages past, _Watts._ 75\n Our heavenly Father calls, _Doddridge._ 528\n Our Lord is risen from the dead, _C. Wesley._ 195\n Our pathway oft is wet with tears, _Barton._ 1222\n Our Saviour bowed beneath the wave, 376\n Our souls are in the Saviour's hand, 907\n Out of the depths of woe, _Montgomery._ 1017\n O what amazing words of grace, _Medley._ 290\n O when shall I see Jesus, 830\n O where are kings and empires now, _A. C. Coxe._ 451\n O where can the soul find relief from, _Dutton._ 1166\n O where is now that glowing love, _Kelly._ 858\n O where shall rest be found, _Montgomery._ 1065\n O why despond in life's dark vale, 77\n O why this disconsolate frame, 1028\n O worship the King all glorious above, _Grant._ 102\n O you immortal throng, _Doddridge._ 1324\n\n P\n Psalm of glory, raiment bright, _Montgomery._ 1140\n Peace be to this congregation, _C. Wesley._ 750\n Peacefully, tenderly, 506\n Peace, peace on earth; the heart, _Longfellow._ 974\n Peace! the welcome sound proclaim, 1247\n Peace, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan, 350\n People of the living God, _Montgomery._ 368\n Pity, Lord, this child of clay, 947\n Planted in Christ, the living Vine, _S. F. Smith._ 487\n Plunged in a gulf of dark despair, _Watts._ 252\n Praise and thanks, and cheerful love, 1235\n Praise God, ye heavenly hosts above, _W. T. Moore._ 728\n Praise, my soul, the King of heaven, _F. Lyte._ 101\n Praise on thee in Zion's gates, _Conder._ 655\n Praise the Lord, his glories show, _F. Lyte._ 58\n Praise the Lord, ye heavens adore, _Dub. Coll._ 1252\n Praise the Lord, ye saints adore him, _B. Skene._ 673\n Praise to God, immortal praise, _Epis. Coll._ 1249\n Praise ye the Lord, immortal choir, 51\n Praise ye the Lord, 'tis good to raise, _Watts._ 24\n Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, _Montgomery._ 565\n Precious Bible! what a treasure, _Newton._ 22\n Prince of peace! control my will, 1021\n Purer yet and purer, _Mason._ 835\n\n Q\n Quiet, Lord, my froward heart, _Newton._ 920\n\n R\n Raise your triumphant songs, _Watts._ 649\n Redeemed from guilt, redeemed from, _F. Lyte._ 401\n Rejoice, believers in the Lord, _Newton._ 770\n Rejoice, O earth, the Lord is King, 640\n Repent, the voice celestial cries, _Doddridge._ 356\n Rest for the toiling hand, _Bonar._ 1110\n Restless thy spirit, poor wandering, _A. Broaddus._ 333\n Restore, O Father, to our times restore, 461\n Rest, weary heart, 796\n Return, my roving heart, return, _Doddridge._ 982\n Return, my soul, and sweetly rest, _Latrobe._ 1122\n Return, O wanderer, now return, _Collyer._ 288\n Return, O wanderer, to thy home, _T. Hastings._ 296\n Rise, glorious Conqueror, rise, 201\n Rise, gracious God, and shine, _Pratt's Coll._ 1273\n Rise, my soul, and stretch thy, _R. Seagrave._ 832\n Rise, O my soul, pursue the path, _Needham._ 860\n Rise, tune thy voice to sacred song, 642\n Rocked in the cradle of the deep, _Mrs. Willard._ 1291\n Rock of Ages, cleft for me, _Toplady._ 261\n Roll on, thou mighty ocean, _Noel's Coll._ 1287\n\n S\n Safely through another week, _Newton._ 629\n Salvation, O the joyful sound, _Watts._ 254\n Saviour, breathe an evening blessing, _Edmeston._ 1202\n Saviour, haste, our souls are waiting, 1102\n Saviour, I lift my trembling eyes, 216\n Saviour, teach me day by day, 784\n Saviour, through my rebellious, _Charlotte Elliott._ 998\n Saviour, thy gentle voice, 656\n Saviour, thy law we love, 387\n Saviour, when in dust, to thee, _Grant._ 578\n Say, whence does this union arise, _Baldwin._ 500\n Say, who is she that looks abroad, 596\n Scorn not the slightest word or deed, 957\n See! from Zion's sacred mountain, _Kelly._ 462\n See! gracious God, before thy throne, _Mrs. Steele._ 1263\n See how the rising sun, _E. Scott._ 1184\n See how the willing converts trace, _Stennett._ 379\n See the shining dew-drops, 669\n Servant of God, well done, _Montgomery._ 1070\n Shall we grow weary in our watch, _Whittier._ 896\n Shall we sing in heaven for ever, 1164\n Shed kindly light amid the encircling, _Newman._ 590\n She loved her Saviour; and to him, _Cutter._ 960\n Shepherd of souls, refresh and bless, 525\n Shepherds, hail the wondrous stranger, _Psalmist._ 133\n Shepherd of thy little flock, 575\n She was the music of our home, _Bonar._ 1062\n Shout the tidings of salvation, 1276\n Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, _Watts._ 346\n Silent, like men in solemn haste, _Bonar._ 848\n Silently the shades of evening, 1204\n Silent night, hallowed night, 131\n Since all the varying scenes of life, 85\n Since first thy word awaked my heart, _Moore._ 407\n Since God is mine, then present, _Beddome._ 88\n Since I can read my title clear, _Watts._ 434\n Since Jesus freely did appear, _Berridge._ 1297\n Since o'er thy footstool here below, _Muhlenberg._ 55\n Sing of Jesus, sing for ever, _Kelly._ 260\n Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice, 47\n Sinner, art thou still secure, _Newton._ 308\n Sinner, come, 'mid thy gloom, 319\n Sinner, go; will you go, 327\n Sinners, come; no longer wander, _B. Skene._ 335\n Sinners, seek the priceless treasure, _W. T. Moore._ 311\n Sinners, turn; why will you die, _C. Wesley._ 304\n Sinners, will you scorn the message, _Allen._ 314\n Sister, thou wast mild and lovely, _S. F. Smith._ 1076\n Sleep not, soldier of the cross, _Gaskell._ 884\n So fades the lonely, blooming flower, _Mrs. Steele._ 1041\n Softly now the light of day, _Doane._ 1199\n Soft be the gently breathing notes, _Collyer._ 514\n Soldiers of Christ, arise, _C. Wesley._ 879\n Songs of immortal praise belong, _Watts._ 37\n Songs of praise awake the morn, _Montgomery._ 654\n Son of God, our glorious Head, _G. B. Ide._ 475\n Soon and for ever the breaking of day, 844\n Soon may the last glad song arise, 1269\n Soon we shall meet again, _C. Wesley._ 738\n Source of being, source of light, _C. Wesley._ 59\n Sound, sound the truth abroad, _Kelly._ 275\n Sovereign Ruler of the skies, _Ryland._ 919\n Sow in the morn, thy seed, _Montgomery._ 967\n Stand up and bless the Lord, _Montgomery._ 700\n Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears, _Watts._ 427\n Star of the morn and even, _F. T. Palgrave._ 797\n Star of peace to wanderers weary, 1294\n Stealing from the world away, _Ray Palmer._ 577\n Still nigh me, O my Saviour, stand, _C. Wesley._ 224\n Still one in life, and one in death, _Bonar._ 484\n Still will we trust, though earth, _W. H. Burleigh._ 801\n Still with thee, O my God, 988\n Stop, poor sinner, stop and think, _Newton._ 317\n Sun of my Soul, thou Saviour dear, _Keble._ 978\n Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, 550\n Sweet is the fading light of eve, _S. F. Smith._ 615\n Sweet is the friendly voice, _Jervis._ 366\n Sweet is the morning of thy grace, _Watts._ 76\n Sweet is the prayer, whose holy stream, 984\n Sweet is the task, O Lord, _F. Lyte._ 625\n Sweet is the work, my God, my King, _Watts._ 611\n Sweet land of rest, for thee I sigh, 812\n Sweet the moment, rich in blessing, _Altered from Batty._ 538\n Sweet was the time when first I felt, _Newton._ 944\n\n T\n Take me, my Father, take me, 949\n Take my heart, O Father, mould it, 1219\n Tarry with me, O my Saviour, 1203\n Teach us in time of deep distress, 1308\n Thanks be to him who built the hills, _Bonar._ 1246\n Thanks for mercies past received, 744\n That clime is not like this dull clime of ours, 1165\n That day of wrath! that dreadful day, _Sir W. Scott._ 1107\n The Almighty reigns exalted high, _Watts._ 62\n The angels that watched round the, _Collyer._ 193\n The billows swell, the winds are high, _Cowper._ 857\n The captive's oar may pause upon the galley, 894\n The chariot, the chariot, its wheels, _I. Williams._ 1111\n The child leans on its parent's, _I. Williams._ 794\n The Christian banner, dread no loss, _J. G. Lyons._ 266\n The Christian warrior, see him, _Montgomery._ 846\n The Church has waited long, _Bonar._ 1100\n The day is ended; ere I sink to sleep, _Kimball._ 1208\n The day is past and gone, _Watts._ 1197\n The dove, let loose in Eastern skies, _Moore._ 818\n Thee we adore, O gracious Lord, 217\n The floods, O Lord, lift up their, _G. Burgess._ 1290\n The glories of our birth and state, _Sherley._ 1044\n The God of harvest praise, _Montgomery._ 1234\n The God of mercy will indulge, _Fawcett._ 1036\n The great Redeemer we adore, _Stennett._ 378\n The harvest dawn is near, _G. Burgess._ 1233\n The heavenly spheres to thee, O God, _Bowring._ 54\n The heavens declare thy glory, Lord, _Watts._ 1\n The hour of my departure's come, _Logan._ 1051\n Their hearts shall not be moved, 936\n The King of heaven his table, _Doddridge._ 294\n The last lovely morning, 1113\n The Lord descended from above, _Sternhold._ 90\n The Lord is great; ye hosts of heaven adore, 41\n The Lord is King, lift up thy voice, _Conder._ 214\n The Lord is my Shepherd, no, _Montgomery._ 103\n The Lord is risen, indeed, _Kelly._ 187\n The Lord Jehovah reigns, and royal, _Watts._ 57\n The Lord Jehovah reigns, let all, _Watts._ 56\n The Lord my pasture shall prepare, _Addison._ 70\n The Lord my Shepherd is, _Watts._ 94\n The Lord of glory is my light, _Watts._ 447\n The Lord will come, the earth shall, _Heber._ 1106\n The mellow eve is gliding, _Sac. Songs._ 1200\n The morning dawns upon the place, _Montgomery._ 158\n The morning flowers display their, _C. Wesley._ 1035\n The morning light returns, _A. S. Hayden._ 1185\n The offerings to thy throne which rise, _Bowring._ 695\n The perfect world by Adam trod, _N. P. Willis._ 1300\n The Prince of salvation in triumph, _S. F. Smith._ 606\n There is a calm for those who, _Montgomery._ 1086\n There is a fold where none can stray, _East._ 1132\n There is a fountain filled with blood, _Cowper._ 253\n There is a land, a happy land, 1129\n There is a land immortal, _Barry Cornwall._ 1145\n There is a land mine eye hath seen, 1119\n There is a land of pure delight, _Watts._ 428\n There is a little, lonely fold, 448\n There is a name I love to hear, 416\n There is an hour of hallowed, _W. B. Tappan._ 1126\n There is an hour of peaceful, _W. B. Tappan._ 1130\n There is a place where my hopes, _W. Hunter._ 1159\n There is a region lovelier far, _Tuck._ 1125\n There is a stream whose gentle flow, _Watts._ 4\n There is no night in heaven, 1143\n There's a region above, 1147\n There's a land far away, 'mid, _J. F. Clarke._ 1167\n There seems a voice in every gale, _Mrs. Opie._ 48\n There's music in the upper heaven, 1127\n There's not a tint that paints the, _Wallace._ 52\n There's nothing bright above, below, _Moore._ 63\n The Saviour bids us watch and pray, 870\n The Saviour calls; let every ear, _Mrs. Steele._ 289\n The Saviour, O what endless charms, _Mrs. Steele._ 239\n The Saviour risen, to-day we praise, 622\n The shadows of the evening, _Miss A. A. Procter._ 1194\n The Son of man they did betray, 179\n The spacious firmament on high, _Addison._ 43\n The spring tide hour, _J. S. B. Monsell._ 1033\n The starry firmament on high, _Grant._ 3\n The tempter to my soul hath said, _Montgomery._ 851\n The sun above us gleaming, _A. Crithfield._ 892\n The voice of free grace cries \"escape, _Thornby._ 332\n The winds were howling o'er the deep, _Heber._ 151\n The world may change from, _Sarah F. Adams._ 438\n They are going, only going, 1074\n They who seek the throne of grace, 573\n Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we, _Doddridge._ 617\n Think gently of the erring one, _Miss Fletcher._ 490\n This book is all that's left me now, _Morris._ 1172\n This is not my place of resting, _Bonar._ 1142\n This is the day the first ripe sheaf, 621\n This is the day the Lord hath made, _Watts._ 619\n This is the glorious day, _Watts._ 624\n This Lord is the Lord we adore, _Hart._ 658\n This world is poor from shore to shore, _Nelson._ 874\n Thou art gone to the grave, but we will, _Heber._ 1096\n Thou art my hiding place, O Lord, _Raffles._ 563\n Thou art my portion, O my God, _Watts._ 774\n Thou art, O God, the life and light, _Moore._ 49\n Thou art, O Lord, the boundless source, _W. T. Moore._ 34\n Thou art our Shepherd, glorious God, 729\n Thou art the way, and he who sighs, 223\n Thou art the way, to thee alone, _Doane._ 248\n Thou, dear Redeemer, dying Lamb, _Cennick._ 231\n Though all the world my choice, _G. Terstergan._ 336\n Though faint, yet pursuing, we go on our way, 583\n Though I walk through the gloomy vale, _Watts._ 1047\n Though I walk the downward shade, 1071\n Though troubles assail, and dangers, _Newton._ 100\n Thou God of love! beneath thy sheltering wings, 1093\n Thou grace divine, encircling all, _Eliza Scudder._ 1311\n Thou hidden love of God, whose, _G. Terstergan._ 859\n Thou Lord of life, whose tender care, 1310\n Thou only Sovereign of my heart, _Mrs. Steele._ 222\n Thou Saviour, from thy throne on, _Ray Palmer._ 555\n Thou sovereign Lord of earth and skies, 1170\n Thou sweet gliding Cedron, _Maria De Fleury._ 167\n Thou that dost my life prolong, _Enfield._ 1187\n Thou very present aid, _C. Wesley._ 1020\n Thou who didst stoop below, _Martineau's Coll._ 200\n Through all the changing scenes, _Tate & Brady._ 911\n Through all this life's eventful road, 716\n Through cross to crown! and though, _Rosegarten._ 932\n Through the day thy love has spared us, _Kelly._ 1206\n Through the love of God our Saviour, 787\n Thus Abraham, full of sacred awe, _T. Scott._ 1266\n Thus far the Lord has led me on, _Watts._ 1190\n Thy Father's house thine own, _Ray Palmer._ 1123\n Thy footsteps, Lord, with joy we trace, 951\n Thy goodness, Lord, our souls confess, _Gibbons._ 83\n Thy kingdom, gracious Lord, _W. T. Moore._ 455\n Thy kingdom, Lord, for ever stands, _Watts._ 443\n Thy mercy heard my infant, _Sir Robt. Grant._ 1225\n Thy name, almighty Lord, _Watts._ 740\n Thy Spirit shall unite, _Doddridge._ 419\n Thy way is in the deep, O Lord, 1293\n Thy way is in the sea, _Fawcett._ 91\n Thy way, not mine, O Lord, _Bonar._ 913\n Thy will be done; I will not fear, _Jane Roscoe._ 993\n Time is winging us away, _Burton._ 1081\n 'Tis midnight; and on Olive's, _W. B. Tappan._ 159\n 'Tis my happiness below, _Cowper._ 1023\n 'Tis not a lonely night watch, 1029\n 'Tis religion that can give, 782\n To bless thy chosen race, _Tate & Brady._ 737\n To-day if you will hear his voice, _Miller._ 279\n To-day the Saviour calls, 323\n To God, the great, the ever blest, _Watts._ 727\n To God, the only wise, _Watts._ 736\n To heaven I lift mine eyes, _John Bowdler._ 937\n To him that loved the sons of men, 646\n To him who did salvation bring, 672\n To Jesus, the crown of my hope, _Cowper._ 827\n To-morrow, Lord, is thine, _Doddridge._ 302\n To our Redeemer's glorious name, _Mrs. Steele._ 643\n To spend one sacred day, _Watts._ 631\n Tossed no more on life's rough billow, 1079\n To thee be praise for ever, 757\n To thee let my first offerings rise, 1183\n To thee, my God, whose presence fills, _Gibbons._ 1002\n To thee my heart, eternal King, _Exeter Coll._ 2\n To thee, my Shepherd and my, _Higginbottom._ 641\n To thee, O God, to thee, _Wm. Wilson._ 98\n To thee our wants are known, _Newton._ 758\n To the hall of that feast came the sinful and fair, 153\n To thy temple we repair, _Montgomery._ 706\n To us a child of hope is born, _Montgomery._ 122\n To weary hearts, _From the German, by Whittier._ 901\n Triumphant, Christ ascends on, _Mrs. Steele._ 198\n Triumphant Zion! lift thy head, _Doddridge._ 591\n 'Twas on that night, when doomed to know, 517\n\n U\n Unchangeable, all-perfect Lord, _Lange._ 31\n Unvail thy bosom, faithful tomb, _Watts._ 1050\n Upon the frontier of this, _Dub. Uni. Mag._ 1168\n Upon the Gospel's sacred page, _Bowring._ 6\n Up to the hills I lift mine eyes, _Watts._ 726\n\n V\n Vainly through night's weary hours, _F. Lyte._ 783\n Vouchsafe, O Lord, thy presence now, _G. B. Ide._ 468\n\n W\n Wait, O my soul, the Maker's will, _Beddome._ 69\n Wake thee, O Zion, thy mourning is, _Palmer._ 1284\n Watchman, tell us of the night, _Bowring._ 128\n We are living, we are dwelling, _A. C. Coxe._ 1277\n We are on our journey home, _C. Beecher._ 1141\n We are too far from thee, our Saviour, 804\n We are on the ocean sailing, 313\n Weary souls that wander wide, _C. Wesley._ 392\n Weary of wandering from my God, _C. Wesley._ 940\n We ask for peace, O Lord, _Miss A. A. Procter._ 423\n We bless the prophet of the Lord, _Watts._ 232\n Weeping sinners, dry your tears, 310\n Weeping souls, no longer mourn, _Toplady._ 946\n Weep not for the saint that ascends, _Bacon._ 1083\n We have heard of that bright, that holy land, 1163\n We have no home but heaven--a pilgrim's, 1155\n Welcome, delightful morn, _Hayward._ 632\n Welcome, O Saviour, to my heart, _Bourne's Coll._ 359\n Welcome, sweet day of rest, _Watts._ 626\n Welcome, ye hopeful heirs of heaven, 516\n We lift our hearts to thee, _J. Wesley._ 1314\n We love this outward world, 1019\n We love thy name, we love thy laws, 374\n We're bound for the land of the, _R. L. Collier._ 331\n We're going home, we've had visions bright, 1161\n We're traveling home to heaven above, 320\n We shall meet no more to part, 503\n We sing the Saviour's wondrous death, 174\n We speak of the realms of the blest, 1150\n We've no abiding city here, _Kelly._ 1305\n We wait for thee, _from the German of Hiller._ 1105\n We wait in faith, in prayer we wait, 905\n We will not weep, for God, _W. H. Hurlbut._ 1031\n What could your Redeemer do, _C. Wesley._ 305\n Whate'er my God ordains is right, 935\n What glory guides the sacred page, _Cowper._ 11\n What grace, O Lord, and beauty shone, 961\n What is life? 'tis but a vapor, _Kelly._ 1078\n What shall I render to my God, _Watts._ 692\n What sinners value I resign, _Watts._ 808\n What's this that steals upon my, 1084\n What though earthly friends may frown, 968\n What though the arm of conquering, _Doddridge._ 1064\n What various hindrances we meet, _Cowper._ 556\n When adverse winds and waves, _Mrs. Sigourney._ 903\n When all thy mercies, O my God, _Addison._ 78\n When blooming youth is snatched, _Mrs. Steele._ 1058\n When darkness long has vailed my, _Cowper._ 854\n When downward to the darksome, _Ray Palmer._ 1108\n When far from the hearts where our, _Macduff._ 992\n When for eternal worlds we steer, 437\n When gathering clouds around I view, _Sir Robt. Grant._ 999\n When human hopes and joys depart, _Roscoe._ 337\n When I can trust my all with God, _Conder._ 777\n When in the hour of lonely woe, _Conder._ 852\n Whene'er I think of thee, _W. Baxter._ 1318\n When I sink down in gloom or fear, 362\n When Israel, of the Lord beloved, _Sir W. Scott._ 849\n When Israel through the desert, _Beddome._ 5\n When I survey the wondrous cross, _Watts._ 512\n When Jordan hushed his waters, _T. Campbell._ 117\n When languor and disease invade, _Toplady._ 1008\n When marshaled on the nightly, _H. K. White._ 351\n When musing sorrow weeps the, _B. W. Noel._ 432\n When our purest delights are nipt in the bud, 938\n When overwhelmed with grief, _Watts._ 1016\n When reft of all, and hopeless care, _Drummond._ 435\n When shall we all meet again, 502\n When shall we meet again, _Select Hymns._ 504\n When spring unlocks the flowers to, _Heber._ 1238\n When the King of kings comes, 1101\n When the spark of life is waning, _Dale._ 1091\n When the vale of death appears, _Mrs. Gilbert._ 1080\n When the worn spirit wants repose, _Edmeston._ 623\n When thou, my, _Countess of the Huntington._ 1114\n When through the torn sail the wild, _Heber._ 1296\n When we can not see our way, 370\n When we hear the music ringing, _W. M._ 1151\n When we reach a quiet dwelling, 1156\n When we the sacred grave survey, 180\n When shall the child of sorrow find, 963\n Where two or three with sweet accord, _Newton._ 552\n While in sweet communion feeding, 540\n While in the slippery paths of, _A. S. Hayden._ 1214\n While life prolongs its precious light, _Dwight._ 277\n While now thy throne of grace we, _C. Robins._ 683\n While o'er our guilty land, O God, _Pres't Davis._ 1254\n While others pray for grace to die, 952\n While thee I seek, _Miss H. M. Williams._ 561\n While thou, my God, art my help, _W. Young._ 929\n While with ceaseless course the sun, _Newton._ 1243\n Whither goest thou, pilgrim stranger, 886\n Whither, O whither, should I fly, _C. Wesley._ 767\n Who are these in bright array, _Montgomery._ 1137\n Why do we mourn departing friends, _Watts._ 1057\n Why should I in vain repining, _Edmeston._ 1025\n Why should we start and fear to die, _Watts._ 1043\n Why will ye waste on trifling cares, _Doddridge._ 282\n With earnest longings of the mind, _Watts._ 1013\n Within thy house, Lord, _Con. Ev. Mag._ 690\n With Israel's God who can compare, _Newton._ 71\n With joy we meditate the grace, _Watts._ 228\n With joy we own thy servant, _Montgomery._ 469\n With my substance I will honor, _Francis._ 971\n With one consent let all the earth, _Doddridge._ 29\n With sacred joy we lift our eyes, _Watts._ 689\n With songs and honors sounding, _Hugh White._ 1231\n With tearful eyes I look around, 278\n With willing hearts we tread, 389\n Worship, honor, glory, blessing, 753\n\n Y\n Ye Christian heralds, _Winchell's Sel._ 465\n Ye golden lamps of heaven, _Doddridge._ 1053\n Ye humble souls that seek the, _Doddridge._ 184\n Ye joyous ones, upon whose, _R. H. Waterson._ 1215\n Ye men and angels, witness now, _Beddome._ 489\n Ye nations round the earth, rejoice, _Watts._ 681\n Ye saints, your music bring, _Reed._ 545\n Ye servants of the Lord, _Doddridge._ 472\n Yes, for me, for me he careth, _Bonar._ 99\n Yes, my native land, I love thee, _S. F. Smith._ 1281\n Yes! our Shepherd leads with, _Krummacker._ 104\n Yes! the Redeemer rose, _Doddridge._ 188\n Yes, we trust the day is breaking, _Kelly._ 603\n Ye trembling captives, hear, _Pratt's Coll._ 301\n Ye who in his courts are found, _Hill's Coll._ 309\n Ye wretched, hungry, starving, _Mrs. Steele._ 293\n You glittering toys of earth, adieu, _Mrs. Steele._ 813\n You may sing of the beauty of, _W. Hunter._ 463\n You messengers of Christ, _Voke._ 470\n Your harps, ye trembling saints, _Toplady._ 917\n You servants of God, _C. Wesley._ 474\n\n Z\n Zion, awake; thy strength renew, _Shrubsole._ 593\n Zion stands with hills surrounded, _Kelly._ 464\n Zion, the marvelous story be telling, 607\n\n\n\n\n Transcriber's Notes\n\n\n--Silently corrected a number of palpable typos and\n inconsistently-formatted items.\n\n--Generated a new cover image for free, unrestricted use with this\n electronic edition.\n\n--Standardized author names in the index (where the original used\n multiple forms).\n\n--Added the author information from the index at the end of each hymn.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Christian Hymn Book, by Various\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\n\n The Life Of\n\n William Ewart Gladstone\n\n By\n\n John Morley\n\n In Three Volumes--Vol. III.\n\n (1890-1898)\n\n Toronto\n\n George N. Morang & Company, Limited\n\n Copyright, 1903\n\n By The Macmillan Company\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nBook VIII. 1880-1885\n Chapter I. Opening Days Of The New Parliament. (1880)\n Chapter II. An Episode In Toleration. (1880-1883)\n Chapter III. Majuba. (1880-1881)\n Chapter IV. New Phases Of The Irish Revolution. (1880-1882)\n Chapter V. Egypt. (1881-1882)\n Chapter VI. Political Jubilee. (1882-1883)\n Chapter VII. Colleagues--Northern Cruise--Egypt. (1883)\n Chapter VIII. Reform. (1884)\n Chapter IX. The Soudan. (1884-1885)\n Chapter X. Interior Of The Cabinet. (1895)\n Chapter XI. Defeat Of Ministers. (May-June 1885)\n Chapter XII. Accession Of Lord Salisbury. (1885)\nBook IX. 1885-1886\n Chapter I. Leadership And The General Election. (1885)\n Chapter II. The Polls In 1885. (1885)\n Chapter III. A Critical Month (December 1885)\n Chapter IV. Fall Of The First Salisbury Government. (January 1886)\n Chapter V. The New Policy. (1886)\n Chapter VI. Introduction Of The Bill. (1886)\n Chapter VII. The Political Atmosphere. Defeat Of The Bill. (1886)\nBook X. 1886-1892\n Chapter I. The Morrow Of Defeat. (1886-1887)\n Chapter II. The Alternative Policy In Act. (1886-1888)\n Chapter III. The Special Commission. (1887-1890)\n Chapter IV. An Interim. (1889-1891)\n Chapter V. Breach With Mr. Parnell. (1890-1891)\n Chapter VI. Biarritz. (1891-1892)\n Chapter VII. The Fourth Administration. (1892-1894)\n Chapter VIII. Retirement From Public Life. (1894)\n Chapter IX. The Close. (1894-1898)\n Chapter X. Final.\nAppendix\n Irish Local Government, 1883. (Page 103)\n General Gordon's Instructions. (Page 153)\n The Military Position In The Soudan, April 1885. (Page 179)\n Home Rule Bill, 1886. (Page 308)\n On The Place Of Italy. (Page 415)\n The Naval Estimates Of 1894.\n Mr. Gladstone's Cabinet Colleagues. (Page 525)\nChronology\nFootnotes\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VIII. 1880-1885\n\n\n\n\nChapter I. Opening Days Of The New Parliament. (1880)\n\n\n Il y a bien du factice dans le classement politique des hommes.\n --GUIZOT.\n\n There is plenty of what is purely artificial in the political\n classification of men.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nOn May 20, after eight-and-forty years of strenuous public life, Mr.\nGladstone met his twelfth parliament, and the second in which he had been\nchief minister of the crown. \"At 4.15,\" he records, \"I went down to the\nHouse with Herbert. There was a great and fervent crowd in Palace Yard,\nand much feeling in the House. It almost overpowered me, as I thought by\nwhat deep and hidden agencies I have been brought back into the midst of\nthe vortex of political action and contention. It has not been in my power\nduring these last six months to have made notes, as I would have wished,\nof my own thoughts and observations from time to time; of the new access\nof strength which in some important respects has been administered to me\nin my old age; and of the remarkable manner in which Holy Scripture has\nbeen applied to me for admonition and for comfort. Looking calmly on this\ncourse of experience, I do believe that the Almighty has employed me for\nHis purposes in a manner larger or more special than before, and has\nstrengthened me and led me on accordingly, though I must not forget the\nadmirable saying of Hooker, that even ministers of good things are like\ntorches, a light to others, waste and destruction to themselves.\"\n\nOne who approached his task in such a spirit as this was at least\nimpregnable to ordinary mortifications, and it was well; for before many\ndays were over it became perceptible that the new parliament and the new\nmajority would be no docile instrument of ministerial will. An acute chill\nfollowed the discovery that there was to be no recall of Frere or Layard.\nVery early in its history Speaker Brand, surveying his flock from the\naugust altitude of the Chair with an acute, experienced, and friendly eye,\nmade up his mind that the liberal party were \"not only strong, but\ndetermined to have their own way in spite of Mr. Gladstone. He has a\ndifficult team to drive.\" Two men of striking character on the benches\nopposite quickly became formidable. Lord Randolph Churchill headed a\nlittle group of four tories, and Mr. Parnell a resolute band of five and\nthirty Irishmen, with momentous results both for ministers and for the\nHouse of Commons.\n\nNo more capable set of ruling men were ever got together than the cabinet\nof 1880; no men who better represented the leading elements in the\ncountry, in all their variety and strength. The great possessors of land\nwere there, and the heirs of long governing tradition were there; the\nindustrious and the sedate of the middle classes found their men seated at\nthe council board, by the side of others whose keen-sighted ambition\nsought sources of power in the ranks of manual toil; the church saw one of\nthe most ardent of her sons upon the woolsack, and the most illustrious of\nthem in the highest place of all; the people of the chapel beheld with\ncomplacency the rising man of the future in one who publicly boasted an\nunbroken line of nonconformist descent. They were all men well trained in\nthe habits of business, of large affairs, and in experience of English\nlife; they were all in spite of difference of shade genuinely liberal; and\nthey all professed a devoted loyalty to their chief. The incident of the\nresolutions on the eastern question(1) was effaced from all (M1) memories,\nand men who in those days had assured themselves that there was no return\nfrom Elba, became faithful marshals of the conquering hero. Mediocrity in\na long-lived cabinet in the earlier part of the century was the object of\nDisraeli's keenest mockery. Still a slight ballast of mediocrity in a\ngovernment steadies the ship and makes for unity--a truth, by the way, that\nMr. Disraeli himself, in forming governments, sometimes conspicuously put\nin practice.\n\nIn fact Mr. Gladstone found that the ministry of which he stood at the\nhead was a coalition, and what was more, a coalition of that vexatious\nkind, where those who happened not to agree sometimes seemed to be almost\nas well pleased with contention as with harmony. The two sections were not\nalways divided by differences of class or station, for some of the peers\nin the cabinet often showed as bold a liberalism as any of the commoners.\nThis notwithstanding, it happened on more than one critical occasion, that\nall the peers _plus_ Lord Hartington were on one side, and all the\ncommoners on the other. Lord Hartington was in many respects the lineal\nsuccessor of Palmerston in his coolness on parliamentary reform, in his\ninclination to stand in the old ways, in his extreme suspicion of what\nsavoured of sentiment or idealism or high-flown profession. But he was a\nPalmerston who respected Mr. Gladstone, and desired to work faithfully\nunder him, instead of being a Palmerston who always intended to keep the\nupper hand of him. Confronting Lord Hartington was Mr. Chamberlain, eager,\nintrepid, self-reliant, alert, daring, with notions about property,\ntaxation, land, schools, popular rights, that he expressed with a\nplainness and pungency of speech that had never been heard from a privy\ncouncillor and cabinet minister before, that exasperated opponents,\nstartled the whigs, and brought him hosts of adherents among radicals out\nof doors. It was at a very early stage in the existence of the government,\nthat this important man said to an ally in the cabinet, \"I don't see how\nwe are to get on, if Mr. Gladstone goes.\" And here was the key to many\nleading incidents, both during the life of this administration and for the\neventful year in Mr. Gladstone's career that followed its demise.\n\nThe Duke of Argyll, who resigned very early, wrote to Mr. Gladstone after\nthe government was overthrown (Dec. 18, 1885), urging him in effect to\nside definitely with the whigs against the radicals:--\n\n\n From the moment our government was fairly under way, I saw and\n felt that speeches _outside_ were allowed to affect opinion, and\n politically to commit the cabinet in a direction which was not\n determined by you deliberately, or by the government as a whole,\n but by the audacity ... of our new associates. Month by month I\n became more and more uncomfortable, feeling that there was no\n paramount direction--nothing but _slip_ and _slide_, what the\n Scotch call \"slithering.\" The outside world, knowing your great\n gifts and powers, assume that you are dictator in your own\n cabinet. And in one sense you are so, that is to say, that when\n you choose to put your foot down, others will give way. But your\n amiability to colleagues, your even extreme gentleness towards\n them, whilst it has always endeared you to them personally, has\n enabled men playing their own game ... to take out of your hands\n the _formation_ of opinion.\n\n\nOn a connected aspect of the same thing, Mr. Gladstone wrote to Lord\nRosebery (Sept. 16, 1880):--\n\n\n ... All this is too long to bore people with--and yet it is not so\n long, nor so interesting, as one at least of the subjects which we\n just touched in conversation at Mentmore; the future of politics,\n and the food they offer to the mind. What is outside parliament\n seems to me to be fast mounting, nay to have already mounted, to\n an importance much exceeding what is inside. Parliament deals with\n laws, and branches of the social tree, not with the root. I always\n admired Mrs. Grote's saying that politics and theology were the\n only two really great subjects; it was wonderful considering the\n atmosphere in which she had lived. I do not doubt which of the two\n she would have put in the first place; and to theology I have no\n doubt she would have given a wide sense, as including everything\n that touches the relation between the seen and the unseen.\n\n\nWhat is curious to note is that, though Mr. Gladstone in making his\ncabinet had thrown the main weight against (M2) the radicals, yet when\nthey got to work, it was with them he found himself more often than not in\nenergetic agreement. In common talk and in partisan speeches, the prime\nminister was regarded as dictatorial and imperious. The complaint of some\nat least among his colleagues in the cabinet of 1880 was rather that he\nwas not imperious enough. Almost from the first he too frequently allowed\nhimself to be over-ruled; often in secondary matters, it is true, but\nsometimes also in matters on the uncertain frontier between secondary and\nprimary. Then he adopted a practice of taking votes and counting numbers,\nof which more than one old hand complained as an innovation. Lord\nGranville said to him in 1886, \"I think you too often counted noses in\nyour last cabinet.\"\n\nWhat Mr. Gladstone described as the severest fight that he had ever known\nin any cabinet occurred in 1883, upon the removal of the Duke of\nWellington's statue from Hyde Park Corner. A vote took place, and three\ntimes over he took down the names. He was against removal, but was unable\nto have his own way over the majority. Members of the government thought\nthemselves curiously free to walk out from divisions. On a Transvaal\ndivision two members of the cabinet abstained, and so did two other\nministers out of the cabinet. In other cases, the same thing happened, not\nonly breaking discipline, but breeding much trouble with the Queen. Then\nan unusual number of men of ability and of a degree of self-esteem not\nbelow their ability, had been left out of the inner circle; and they and\ntheir backers were sometimes apt to bring their pretensions rather\nfretfully forward. These were the things that to Mr. Gladstone's\ntemperament proved more harassing than graver concerns.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nAll through the first two months of its business, the House showed signs\nof independence that almost broke the spirit of the ministerial whips. A\nbill about hares and rabbits produced lively excitement, ministerialists\nmoved amendments upon the measure of their own leaders, and the minister\nin charge boldly taxed the mutineers with insincerity. A motion for local\noption was carried by 229 to 203, both Mr. Gladstone and Lord Hartington\nin the minority. On a motion about clerical restrictions, only a strong\nand conciliatory appeal from the prime minister averted defeat. A more\nremarkable demonstration soon followed. The Prince Imperial, unfortunate\nson of unfortunate sire, who had undergone his famous baptism of fire in\nthe first reverses among the Vosges in the Franco-German war of 1870, was\nkilled in our war in Zululand. Parliament was asked to sanction a vote of\nmoney for a memorial of him in the Abbey. A radical member brought forward\na motion against it. Both Mr. Gladstone and Sir Stafford Northcote\nresisted him, yet by a considerable majority the radical carried his\npoint. The feeling was so strong among the ministerialists, that\nnotwithstanding Mr. Gladstone's earnest exhortation, they voted almost to\na man against him, and he only carried into the lobby ten official votes\non the treasury bench.\n\nThe great case in which the government were taken to have missed the\nimport of the election was the failure to recall Sir Bartle Frere from\nSouth Africa. Of this I shall have enough to say by and by. Meanwhile it\ngave an undoubted shock to the confidence of the party, and their\nenergetic remonstrance on this head strained Mr. Gladstone's authority to\nthe uttermost. The Queen complained of the tendency of the House of\nCommons to trench upon the business of the executive. Mr. Gladstone said\nin reply generally, that no doubt within the half century \"there had been\nconsiderable invasion by the House of Commons of the province assigned by\nthe constitution to the executive,\" but he perceived no increase in recent\ntimes or in the present House. Then he proceeded (June 8, 1880):--\n\n\n ... Your Majesty may possibly have in view the pressure which has\n been exercised on the present government in the case of Sir Bartle\n Frere. But apart from the fact that this pressure represents a\n feeling which extends far beyond the walls of parliament, your\n Majesty may probably remember that, in the early part of 1835, the\n House of Commons addressed the crown against the appointment of\n Lord Londonderry to be ambassador at St. Petersburg, on (M3)\n account, if Mr. Gladstone remembers rightly, of a general\n antecedent disapproval. This was an exercise of power going far\n beyond what has happened now; nor does it seem easy in principle\n to place the conduct of Sir B. Frere beyond that general right of\n challenge and censure which is unquestionably within the function\n of parliament and especially of the House of Commons.\n\n\nIn the field where mastery had never failed him, Mr. Gladstone achieved an\nearly success, and he lost no time in justifying his assumption of the\nexchequer. The budget (June 10) was marked by the boldness of former days,\nand was explained and defended in one of those statements of which he\nalone possessed the secret. Even unfriendly witnesses agreed that it was\nmany years since the House of Commons had the opportunity of enjoying so\nextraordinary an intellectual treat, where \"novelties assumed the air of\nindisputable truths, and complicated figures were woven into the thread of\nintelligible and animated narrative.\" He converted the malt tax into a\nbeer duty, reduced the duties on light foreign wines, added a penny to the\nincome tax, and adjusted the licence duties for the sale of alcoholic\nliquors. Everybody said that \"none but a _cordon bleu_ could have made\nsuch a sauce with so few materials.\" The dish was excellently received,\nand the ministerial party were in high spirits. The conservatives stood\nangry and amazed that their own leaders had found no device for the repeal\nof the malt duty. The farmer's friends, they cried, had been in office for\nsix years and had done nothing; no sooner is Gladstone at the exchequer\nthan with magic wand he effects a transformation, and the long-suffering\nagriculturist has justice and relief.\n\nIn the course of an effort that seemed to show full vigour of body and\nmind, Mr. Gladstone incidentally mentioned that when a new member he\nrecollected hearing a speech upon the malt tax in the old House of Commons\nin the year 1833. Yet the lapse of nearly half a century of life in that\ngreat arena had not relaxed his stringent sense of parliamentary duty.\nDuring most of the course of this first session, he was always early in\nhis place and always left late. In every discussion he came to the front,\nand though an under-secretary made the official reply, it was the prime\nminister who wound up. One night he made no fewer than six speeches,\ntouching all the questions raised in a miscellaneous night's sitting.\n\nIn the middle of the summer Mr. Gladstone fell ill. Consternation reigned\nin London. It even exceeded the dismay caused by the defeat at Maiwand. A\nfriend went to see him as he lay in bed. \"He talked most of the time, not\non politics, but on Shakespeare's Henry viii., and the decay of\ntheological study at Oxford. He never intended his reform measure to\nproduce this result.\" After his recovery, he went for a cruise in the\n_Grantully Castle_, not returning to parliament until September 4, three\ndays before the session ended, when he spoke with all his force on the\neastern question.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIn the electoral campaign Mr. Gladstone had used expressions about Austria\nthat gave some offence at Vienna. On coming into power he volunteered an\nassurance to the Austrian ambassador that he would willingly withdraw his\nlanguage if he understood that he had misapprehended the circumstances.\nThe ambassador said that Austria meant strictly to observe the treaty of\nBerlin. Mr. Gladstone then expressed his regret for the words \"of a\npainful and wounding character\" that had fallen from him. At the time, he\nexplained, he was \"in a position of greater freedom and less\nresponsibility.\"\n\nAt the close of the session of 1880, ministers went to work upon the\nunfulfilled portions of the Berlin treaty relating to Greece and\nMontenegro. Those stipulations were positive in the case of Montenegro; as\nto Greece they were less definite, but they absolutely implied a cession\nof more or less territory by Turkey. They formed the basis of Lord\nSalisbury's correspondence, but his arguments and representations were\nwithout effect.\n\nMr. Gladstone and his colleagues went further. They proposed and obtained\na demonstration off the Albanian coast on behalf of Montenegro. Each great\nPower sent a man-of-war, but the concert of Europe instantly became what\n(M4) Mr. Gladstone called a farce, for Austria and Germany made known that\nunder no circumstances would they fire a shot. France rather less\nprominently took the same course. This defection, which was almost\nboastful on the part of Austria and Germany, convinced the British cabinet\nthat Turkish obduracy would only be overcome by force, and the question\nwas how to apply force effectually with the least risk to peace. As it\nhappened, the port of Smyrna received an amount of customs' duties too\nconsiderable for the Porte to spare it. The idea was that the united fleet\nat Cattaro should straightway sail to Smyrna and lay hold upon it. The\ncabinet, with experts from the two fighting departments, weighed carefully\nall the military responsibilities, and considered the sequestration of the\ncustoms' dues at Smyrna to be practicable. Russia and Italy were friendly.\nFrance had in a certain way assumed special cognisance of the Greek case,\nbut did nothing particular. From Austria and Germany nothing was to be\nhoped. On October 4, the Sultan refused the joint European request for the\nfulfilment of the engagements entered into at Berlin. This refusal was\ndespatched in ignorance of the intention to coerce. The British government\nhad only resolved upon coercion in concert with Europe. Full concert was\nnow out of the question. But on the morning of Sunday, the 10th, Mr.\nGladstone and Lord Granville learned with as much surprise as delight from\nMr. Goschen, then ambassador extraordinary at Constantinople, that the\nSultan had heard of the British proposal of force, and apparently had not\nheard of the two refusals. On learning how far England had gone, he\ndetermined to give way on both the territorial questions. As Mr. Gladstone\nenters in his diary, \"a faint tinge of doubt remained.\" That is to say,\nthe Sultan might find out the rift in the concert and retract. Russia,\nhowever, had actually agreed to force. On Tuesday, the 12th, Mr.\nGladstone, meeting Lord Granville and another colleague, was \"under the\ncircumstances prepared to proceed _en trois_.\" The other two \"rather\ndiffered.\" Of course it would have been for the whole cabinet to decide.\nBut between eleven and twelve Lord Granville came in with the news that\nthe note had arrived and all was well. \"The whole of this extraordinary\nvolte-face,\" as Mr. Gladstone said with some complacency, \"had been\neffected within six days; and it was entirely due not to a threat of\ncoercion from Europe, but to the knowledge that Great Britain had asked\nEurope to coerce.\" Dulcigno was ceded by the Porte to Montenegro. On the\nGreek side of the case, the minister for once was less ardent than for the\ncomplete triumph of his heroic Montenegrins, but after tedious\nnegotiations Mr. Gladstone had the satisfaction of seeing an important\nrectification of the Greek frontier, almost restoring his Homeric Greece.\nThe eastern question looked as if it might fall into one of its fitful\nslumbers once more, but we shall soon see that this was illusory. Mr.\nGoschen left Constantinople in May, and the prime minister said to him\n(June 3, 1881):--\n\n\n I write principally for the purpose of offering you my hearty\n congratulations on the place you have taken in diplomacy by force\n of mind and character, and on the services which, in thus far\n serving the most honourable aims a man can have, you have rendered\n to liberty and humanity.\n\n\nOnly in Afghanistan was there a direct reversal of the policy of the\nfallen government. The new cabinet were not long in deciding on a return\nto the older policy in respect of the north-west frontier of India. All\nthat had happened since it had been abandoned, strengthened the case\nagainst the new departure. The policy that had been pursued amid so many\nlamentable and untoward circumstances, including the destruction of a very\ngallant agent of England at Cabul, had involved the incorporation of\nCandahar within the sphere of the Indian system. Mr. Gladstone and his\ncabinet determined on the evacuation of Candahar. The decision was made\npublic in the royal speech of the following January (1881). Lord\nHartington stated the case of the government with masterly and crushing\nforce, in a speech,(2) which is no less than a strong text-book of the\nwhole argument, if any reader should now desire to comprehend it. The\nevacuation was censured in the Lords by 165 against 79; in the Commons\nministers carried the day by a majority of 120.\n\n\n\n\nChapter II. An Episode In Toleration. (1880-1883)\n\n\n The state, in choosing men to serve it, takes no notice of their\n opinions; if they be willing faithfully to serve it, that\n satisfies. ... Take heed of being sharp, or too easily sharpened\n by others, against those to whom you can object little but that\n they square not with you in every opinion concerning matters of\n religion.\n\n --OLIVER CROMWELL.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nOne discordant refrain rang hoarsely throughout the five years of this\nadministration, and its first notes were heard even before Mr. Gladstone\nhad taken his seat. It drew him into a controversy that was probably more\ndistasteful to him than any other of the myriad contentions, small and\ngreat, with which his life was encumbered. Whether or not he threaded his\nway with his usual skill through a labyrinth of parliamentary tactics\nincomparably intricate, experts may dispute, but in an ordeal beyond the\nregion of tactics he never swerved from the path alike of liberty and\ncommon-sense. It was a question of exacting the oath of allegiance before\na member could take his seat.\n\nMr. Bradlaugh, the new member for Northampton, who now forced the question\nforward, as O'Connell had forced forward the civil equality of catholics,\nand Rothschild and others the civil equality of Jews, was a free-thinker\nof a daring and defiant type. Blank negation could go no further. He had\nabundant and genuine public spirit, and a strong love of truth according\nto his own lights, and he was both a brave and a disinterested man. This\nhard-grit secularism of his was not the worst of his offences in the view\nof the new majority and their constituents. He had published an\nimpeachment of the House of Brunswick, which few members of parliament had\never heard of or looked at. But even abstract republicanism was not the\nworst. What placed him at extreme disadvantage in fighting the battle in\nwhich he was now engaged, was his republication of a pamphlet by an\nAmerican doctor on that impracticable question of population, which though\ntoo rigorously excluded from public discussion, confessedly lies among the\nroots of most other social questions. For this he had some years before\nbeen indicted in the courts, and had only escaped conviction and\npunishment by a technicality. It was Mr. Bradlaugh's refusal to take the\noath in a court of justice that led to the law of 1869, enabling a witness\nto affirm instead of swearing. He now carried the principle a step\nfurther.\n\nWhen the time came, the Speaker (April 29) received a letter from the\niconoclast, claiming to make an affirmation, instead of taking the oath of\nallegiance.(3) He consulted his legal advisers, and they gave an opinion\nstrongly adverse to the claim. On this the Speaker wrote to Mr. Gladstone\nand to Sir Stafford Northcote, stating his concurrence in the opinion of\nthe lawyers, and telling them that he should leave the question to the\nHouse. His practical suggestion was that on his statement being made, a\nmotion should be proposed for a select committee. The committee was duly\nappointed, and it reported by a majority of one, against a minority that\ncontained names so weighty as Sir Henry James, Herschell, Whitbread, and\nBright, that the claim to affirm was not a good claim. So opened a series\nof incidents that went on as long as the parliament, clouded the radiance\nof the party triumph, threw the new government at once into a minority,\ndimmed the ascendency of the great minister, and what was more, showed\nhuman nature at its worst. The incidents themselves are in detail not\nworth recalling here, but they are a striking episode in the history of\ntoleration, as well as a landmark in Mr. Gladstone's journey from the day\nfive-and-forty years before when, in (M5) reference to Molesworth as\ncandidate for Leeds, he had told his friends at Newark that men who had no\nbelief in divine revelation were not the men to govern this nation whether\nthey be whigs or radicals.(4)\n\nHis claim to affirm having been rejected, Bradlaugh next desired to swear.\nThe ministerial whip reported that the feeling against him in the House\nwas uncontrollable. The Speaker held a council in his library with Mr.\nGladstone, the law officers, the whip, and two or three other persons of\nauthority and sense. He told them that if Bradlaugh had in the first\ninstance come to take the oath, he should have allowed no intervention,\nbut that the case was altered by the claimant's open declaration that an\noath was not binding on his conscience. A hostile motion was expected when\nBradlaugh came to the table to be sworn, and the Speaker suggested that it\nshould be met by the previous question, to be moved by Mr. Gladstone. Then\nthe whip broke in with the assurance that the usual supporters of the\ngovernment could not be relied upon. The Speaker went upstairs to dress,\nand on his return found that they had agreed on moving another select\ncommittee. He told them that he thought this a weak course, but if the\nprevious question would be defeated, perhaps a committee could not be\nhelped. Bradlaugh came to the table, and the hostile motion was made. Mr.\nGladstone proposed his committee, and carried it by a good majority\nagainst the motion that Bradlaugh, being without religious belief, could\nnot take an oath. The debate was warm, and the attacks on Bradlaugh were\noften gross. The Speaker honourably pointed out that such attacks on an\nelected member whose absence was enforced by their own order, were unfair\nand unbecoming, but the feelings of the House were too strong for him and\ntoo strong for chivalry. The opposition turned affairs to ignoble party\naccount, and were not ashamed in their prints and elsewhere to level the\ncharge of \"open patronage of unbelief and Malthusianism, Bradlaugh and\nBlasphemy,\" against a government that contained Gladstone, Bright, and\nSelborne, three of the most conspicuously devout men to be found in all\nEngland. One expression of faith used by a leader in the attack on\nBradlaugh lived in Mr. Gladstone's memory to the end of his days. \"You\nknow, Mr. Speaker,\" cried the champion of orthodox creeds, \"we all of us\nbelieve in a God of some sort or another.\" That a man should consent to\nclothe the naked human soul in this truly singular and scanty remnant of\nspiritual apparel, was held to be the unalterable condition of fitness for\na seat in parliament and the company of decent people. Well might Mr.\nGladstone point out how vast a disparagement of Christianity, and of\northodox theism also, was here involved:--\n\n\n They say this, that you may go any length you please in the denial\n of religion, provided only you do not reject the name of the\n Deity. They tear religion into shreds, so to speak, and say that\n there is one particular shred with which nothing will ever induce\n them to part. They divide religion into the dispensable and the\n indispensable, and among that kind which can be dispensed with--I\n am not now speaking of those who declare, or are admitted, under a\n special law, I am not speaking of Jews or those who make a\n declaration, I am speaking solely of those for whom no provision\n is made except the provision of oath--they divide, I say, religion\n into what can and what cannot be dispensed with. There is\n something, however, that cannot be dispensed with. I am not\n willing, Sir, that Christianity, if the appeal is made to us as a\n Christian legislature, shall stand in any rank lower than that\n which is indispensable. I may illustrate what I mean. Suppose a\n commander has to despatch a small body of men on an expedition on\n which it is necessary for them to carry on their backs all that\n they can take with them; the men will part with everything that is\n unnecessary, and take only that which is essential. That is the\n course you ask us to take in drawing us upon theological ground;\n you require us to distinguish between superfluities and\n necessaries, and you tell us that Christianity is one of the\n superfluities, one of the excrescences, and has nothing to do with\n the vital substance, the name of the Deity, which is\n indispensable. I say that the adoption of such a proposition as\n that, which is in reality at the very root of your contention, is\n disparaging in the very highest degree to the Christian\n faith....(5)\n\n\n(M6) Even viewed as a theistic test, he contended, this oath embraced no\nacknowledgment of Providence, of divine government, of responsibility, or\nretribution; it involved nothing but a bare and abstract admission, a form\nvoid of all practical meaning and concern.\n\nThe House, however, speedily showed how inaccessible were most of its\nmembers to reason and argument of this kind or any kind. On June 21, Mr.\nGladstone thus described the proceedings to the Queen. \"With the renewal\nof the discussion,\" he wrote, \"the temper of the House does not improve,\nboth excitement and suspicion appearing to prevail in different quarters.\"\nA motion made by Mr. Bradlaugh's colleague that he should be permitted to\naffirm, was met by a motion that he should not be allowed either to affirm\nor to swear.\n\n\n _To the Queen._\n\n Many warm speeches were made by the opposition in the name of\n religion; to those Mr. Bright has warmly replied in the name of\n religious liberty. The contention on the other side really is that\n as to a certain ill-defined fragment of truth the House is still,\n under the Oaths Act, the guardian of religion. The primary\n question, whether the House has jurisdiction under the statute, is\n almost hopelessly mixed with the question whether an atheist, who\n has declared himself an atheist, ought to sit in parliament. Mr.\n Gladstone's own view is that the House has no jurisdiction for the\n purpose of excluding any one willing to qualify when he has been\n duly elected; but he is very uncertain how the House will vote or\n what will be the end of the business, if the House undertakes the\n business of exclusion.\n\n _June 22._--The House of Commons has been occupied from the\n commencement of the evening until a late hour with the adjourned\n debate on the case of Mr. Bradlaugh. The divided state of opinion\n in the House made itself manifest throughout the evening. Mr.\n Newdegate made a speech which turned almost wholly upon the\n respective merits of theism and atheism. Mr. Gladstone thought it\n his duty to advise the House to beware of entangling itself in\n difficulties possibly of a serious character, by assuming a\n jurisdiction in cases of this class.\n\n At one o'clock in the morning, the first great division was taken,\n and the House resolved by 275 votes against 230 that Mr. Bradlaugh\n should neither affirm nor swear. The excitement at this result was\n tremendous. Some minutes elapsed before the Speaker could declare\n the numbers. \"Indeed,\" wrote Mr. Gladstone to the Queen, \"it was\n an ecstatic transport, and exceeded anything which Mr. Gladstone\n remembers to have witnessed. He read in it only a witness to the\n dangers of the course on which the House has entered, and to its\n unfitness for the office which it has rashly chosen to assume.\" He\n might also have read in it, if he had liked, the exquisite delight\n of the first stroke of revenge for Midlothian.\n\n\nThe next day (June 23) the matter entered on a more violent phase.\n\n\n _To the Queen._\n\n This day, when the Speaker took the chair at a quarter past\n twelve, Mr. Bradlaugh came to the table and claimed to take the\n oath. The Speaker read to him the resolution of the House which\n forbids it. Mr. Bradlaugh asked to be heard, and no objection was\n taken. He then addressed the House from the bar. His address was\n that of a consummate speaker. But it was an address which could\n not have any effect unless the House had undergone a complete\n revolution of mind. He challenged the legality of the act of the\n House, expressing hereby an opinion in which Mr. Gladstone\n himself, going beyond some other members of the minority, has the\n misfortune to lean towards agreeing with him.... The Speaker now\n again announced to Mr. Bradlaugh the resolution of the House. Only\n a small minority voted against enforcing it. Mr. Bradlaugh\n declining to withdraw, was removed by the serjeant-at-arms. Having\n suffered this removal, he again came beyond the bar, and entered\n into what was almost a corporal struggle with the serjeant.\n Hereupon Sir S. Northcote moved that Mr. Bradlaugh be committed\n for his offence. Mr. Gladstone said that while he thought it did\n not belong to him, under the circumstances of the case, to advise\n the House, he could take no objection to the advice thus given.\n\n\nThe Speaker, it may be said, thought this view of (M7) Mr. Gladstone's a\nmistake, and that when Bradlaugh refused to withdraw, the leader of the\nHouse ought, as a matter of policy, to have been the person to move first\nthe order to withdraw, next the committal to the custody of the\nserjeant-at-arms. \"I was placed in a false position,\" says the Speaker,\n\"and so was the House, in having to follow the lead of the leader of the\nopposition, while the leader of the House and the great majority were\npassive spectators.\"(6) As Mr. Gladstone and other members of the\ngovernment voted for Bradlaugh's committal, on the ground that his\nresistance to the serjeant had nothing to do with the establishment of his\nrights before either a court or his constituency, it would seem that the\nSpeaker's complaint is not unjust. To this position, however, Mr.\nGladstone adhered, in entire conformity apparently to the wishes of the\nkeenest members of his cabinet and the leading men of his party.\n\nThe Speaker wrote to Sir Stafford Northcote urging on him the propriety of\nallowing Bradlaugh to take the oath without question. But Northcote was\nforced on against his better judgment by his more ardent supporters. It\nwas a strange and painful situation, and the party system assuredly did\nnot work at its best--one leading man forced on to mischief by the least\nresponsible of his sections, the other held back from providing a cure by\nthe narrowest of the other sections. In the April of 1881 Mr. Gladstone\ngave notice of a bill providing for affirmation, but it was immediately\napparent that the opposition would make the most of every obstacle to a\nsettlement, and the proposal fell through. In August of this year the\nSpeaker notes, \"The difficulties in the way of settling this question\nsatisfactorily are great, and in the present temper of the House almost\ninsuperable.\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIt is not necessary to recount all the stages of this protracted struggle:\nwhat devices and expedients and motions, how many odious scenes of\nphysical violence, how many hard-fought actions in the lawcourts, how many\nconflicts between the House of Commons and the constituency, what glee and\nrubbing of hands in the camp of the opposition at having thrust their\nrivals deep into a quagmire so unpleasant. The scandal was intolerable,\nbut ministers were helpless, as a marked incident now demonstrated. It was\nnot until 1883 that a serious attempt was made to change the law. The\nAffirmation bill of that year has a biographic place, because it marks in\na definite way how far Mr. Gladstone's mind--perhaps not, as I have said\nbefore, by nature or by instinct peculiarly tolerant--had travelled along\none of the grand highroads of human progress. The occasion was for many\nreasons one of great anxiety. Here are one or two short entries, the\nreader remembering that by this time the question was two years old:--\n\n\n _April 24, Tuesday._--On Sunday night a gap of three hours in my\n sleep was rather ominous; but it was not repeated.... Saw the\n Archbishop of Canterbury, with whom I had a very long conversation\n on the Affirmation bill and on _Church and State_. Policy\n generally as well as on special subjects.... Globe Theatre in the\n evening; excellent acting.... 25.... Worked on Oaths question....\n 26.... Made a long and _begeistert_(7) speech on the Affirmation\n bill, taking the bull by the horns.\n\n\nHis speech upon this measure was a noble effort. It was delivered under\ncircumstances of unsurpassed difficulty, for there was revolt in the\nparty, the client was repugnant, the opinions brought into issue were to\nMr. Gladstone hateful. Yet the speech proved one of his greatest.\nImposing, lofty, persuasive, sage it would have been, from whatever lips\nit might have fallen; it was signal indeed as coming from one so fervid,\nso definite, so unfaltering in a faith of his own, one who had started\nfrom the opposite pole to that great civil principle of which he now\ndisplayed a grasp invincible. If it be true of a writer that the best\nstyle is that which most directly flows from living qualities in the\nwriter's own mind and is a pattern of their actual working, so is the same\nthing to be said of oratory. These high themes of Faith, on the one hand,\nand Freedom on the (M8) other, exactly fitted the range of the thoughts in\nwhich Mr. Gladstone habitually lived. \"I have no fear of Atheism in this\nHouse,\" he said; \"Truth is the expression of the Divine mind, and however\nlittle our feeble vision may be able to discern the means by which God may\nprovide for its preservation, we may leave the matter in His hands, and we\nmay be sure that a firm and courageous application of every principle of\nequity and of justice is the best method we can adopt for the preservation\nand influence of Truth.\" This was Mr. Gladstone at his sincerest and his\nhighest. I wonder, too, if there has been a leader in parliament since the\nseventeenth century, who could venture to address it in the strain of the\nmemorable passage now to be transcribed:--\n\n\n You draw your line at the point where the abstract denial of God\n is severed from the abstract admission of the Deity. My\n proposition is that the line thus drawn is worthless, and that\n much on your side of the line is as objectionable as the atheism\n on the other. If you call upon us to make distinctions, let them\n at least be rational; I do not say let them be Christian\n distinctions, but let them be rational. I can understand one\n rational distinction, that you should frame the oath in such a way\n as to recognise not only the existence of the Deity, but the\n providence of the Deity, and man's responsibility to the Deity;\n and in such a way as to indicate the knowledge in a man's own mind\n that he must answer to the Deity for what he does, and is able to\n do. But is that your present rule? No, Sir, you know very well\n that from ancient times there have been sects and schools that\n have admitted in the abstract as freely as Christians the\n existence of a Deity, but have held that of practical relations\n between Him and man there can be none. Many of the members of this\n House will recollect the majestic and noble lines--\n\n Omnis enim per se divom natura necesse est\n Immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur,\n Semota a nostris rebus sejunctaque longe.\n Nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis,\n Ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga nostri,\n Nec bene promeritis capitur, nec tangitur ira.(8)\n\n \"Divinity exists\"--according to these, I must say, magnificent\n lines--\"in remote and inaccessible recesses; but with, us it has no\n dealing, of us it has no need, with us it has no relation.\" I do\n not hesitate to say that the specific evil, the specific form of\n irreligion, with which in the educated society of this country you\n have to contend, and with respect to which you ought to be on your\n guard, is not blank atheism. That is a rare opinion very seldom\n met with; but what is frequently met with is that form of opinion\n which would teach us that, whatever may be beyond the visible\n things of this world, whatever there may be beyond this short span\n of life, you know and you can know nothing of it, and that it is a\n bootless undertaking to attempt to establish relations with it.\n That is the mischief of the age, and that mischief you do not\n attempt to touch.\n\n\nThe House, though but few perhaps recollected their Lucretius or had ever\neven read him, sat, as I well remember, with reverential stillness,\nhearkening from this born master of moving cadence and high sustained\nmodulation to \"the rise and long roll of the hexameter,\"--to the plangent\nlines that have come down across the night of time to us from great Rome.\nBut all these impressions of sublime feeling and strong reasoning were\nsoon effaced by honest bigotry, by narrow and selfish calculation, by flat\ncowardice. The relieving bill was cast out by a majority of three. The\ncatholics in the main voted against it, and many nonconformists,\nhereditary champions of all the rights of private judgment, either voted\nagainst it or did not vote at all. So soon in these affairs, as the world\nhas long ago found out, do bodies of men forget in a day of power the\nmaxims that they held sacred and inviolable in days when they were weak.\n\nThe drama did not end here. In that parliament Bradlaugh was never allowed\nto discharge his duty as a member, but when after the general election of\n1885, being once more chosen by Northampton, he went to the table to take\nthe oath, as in former days Mill and others of like non-theologic\ncomplexion had taken it, the Speaker would suffer no intervention against\nhim. Then in 1888, though the majority was conservative, Bradlaugh himself\nsecured the passing of an affirmation (M9) law. Finally, in the beginning\nof 1891, upon the motion of a Scotch member, supported by Mr. Gladstone,\nthe House formally struck out from its records the resolution of June 22,\n1881, that had been passed, as we have seen, amid \"ecstatic transports.\"\nBradlaugh then lay upon his deathbed, and was unconscious of what had been\ndone. Mr. Gladstone a few days later, in moving a bill of his own to\ndiscard a lingering case of civil disability attached to religious\nprofession, made a last reference to Mr. Bradlaugh:--\n\n\n A distinguished man, he said, and admirable member of this House,\n was laid yesterday in his mother-earth. He was the subject of a\n long controversy in this House--a controversy the beginning of\n which we recollect, and the ending of which we recollect. We\n remember with what zeal it was prosecuted; we remember how\n summarily it was dropped; we remember also what reparation has\n been done within the last few days to the distinguished man who\n was the immediate object of that controversy. But does anybody who\n hears me believe that that controversy, so prosecuted and so\n abandoned, was beneficial to the Christian religion?(9)\n\n\n\n\nChapter III. Majuba. (1880-1881)\n\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}.\n\n --AEsch. _Prom._ 1078.\n\n In a boundless coil of mischief pure senselessness will entangle\n you.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIt would almost need the pen of Tacitus or Dante to tell the story of\nEuropean power in South Africa. For forty years, said Mr. Gladstone in\n1881, \"I have always regarded the South African question as the one great\nunsolved and perhaps insoluble problem of our colonial system.\" Among the\nother legacies of the forward policy that the constituencies had\ndecisively condemned in 1880, this insoluble problem rapidly became acute\nand formidable.\n\nOne of the great heads of impeachment in Midlothian had been a war\nundertaken in 1878-9 against a fierce tribe on the borders of the colony\nof Natal. The author and instrument of the Zulu war was Sir Bartle Frere,\na man of tenacious character and grave and lofty if ill-calculated aims.\nThe conservative government, as I have already said,(10) without\nenthusiasm assented, and at one stage they even formally censured him.\nWhen Mr. Gladstone acceded to office, the expectation was universal that\nSir Bartle would be at once recalled. At the first meeting of the new\ncabinet (May 3) it was decided to retain him. The prime minister at first\nwas his marked protector. The substantial reason against recall was that\nhis presence was needed to carry out the policy of confederation, and\ntowards confederation it was hoped that the Cape parliament was\nimmediately about to take (M10) a long preliminary step. \"Confederation,\"\nMr. Gladstone said, \"is the pole-star of the present action of our\ngovernment.\" In a few weeks, for a reason that will be mentioned in\ntreating the second episode of this chapter, confederation broke down. A\nless substantial but still not wholly inoperative reason was the strong\nfeeling of the Queen for the high commissioner. The royal prepossessions\nnotwithstanding, and in spite of the former leanings of Mr. Gladstone, the\ncabinet determined, at the end of July, that Sir Bartle should be\nrecalled. The whole state of the case is made sufficiently clear in the\ntwo following communications from the prime minister to the Queen:--\n\n\n _To the Queen._\n\n _May 28, 1880._--Mr. Gladstone presents his humble duty, and has\n had the honour to receive your Majesty's telegram respecting Sir\n B. Frere. Mr. Gladstone used on Saturday his best efforts to avert\n a movement for his dismissal, which it was intended by a powerful\n body of members on the liberal side to promote by a memorial to\n Mr. Gladstone, and by a motion in the House. He hopes that he has\n in some degree succeeded, and he understands that it is to be\n decided on Monday whether they will at present desist or\n persevere. Of course no sign will be given by your Majesty's\n advisers which could tend to promote perseverance, at the same\n time Mr. Gladstone does not conceal from himself two things: the\n first, that the only chance of Sir B. Frere's remaining seems to\n depend upon his ability to make progress in the matter of\n confederation; the second, that if the agitation respecting him in\n the House, the press, and the country should continue, confidence\n in him may be so paralysed as to render his situation intolerable\n to a high-minded man and to weaken his hands fatally for any\n purpose of good.\n\n _July 29, 1880._--It was not without some differences of opinion\n among themselves that, upon their accession to office, the cabinet\n arrived at the conclusion that, if there was a prospect of\n progress in the great matter of confederation, this might afford a\n ground of co-operation between them and Sir B. Frere,\n notwithstanding the strong censures which many of them in\n opposition had pronounced upon his policy. This conclusion gave\n the liveliest satisfaction to a large portion, perhaps to the\n majority, of the House of Commons; but they embraced it with the\n more satisfaction because of your Majesty's warm regard for Sir B.\n Frere, a sentiment which some among them personally share.\n\n It was evident, however, and it was perhaps in the nature of the\n case, that a confidence thus restricted was far from agreeable to\n Sir B. Frere, who, in the opinion of Mr. Gladstone, has only been\n held back by a commendable self-restraint and sense of duty, from\n declaring himself aggrieved. Thus, though the cabinet have done\n the best they could, his standing ground was not firm, nor could\n they make it so. But the total failure of the effort made to\n induce the Cape parliament to move, has put confederation wholly\n out of view, for a time quite indefinite, and almost certainly\n considerable. Mr. Gladstone has therefore the painful duty of\n submitting to your Majesty, on behalf of the Cabinet, the enclosed\n copy of a ciphered telegram of recall.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe breaking of the military power of the Zulus was destined to prove much\nless important than another proceeding closely related to it, though not\ndrawing the same attention at the moment. I advise the reader not to\ngrudge a rather strict regard to the main details of transactions that,\nowing to unhappy events of later date, have to this day held a conspicuous\nplace in the general controversy as to the great minister's statesmanship.\n\nFor some time past, powerful native tribes had been slowly but steadily\npushing the Boers of the Transvaal back, and the inability to resist was\nnow dangerously plain. In 1876 the Boers had been worsted in one of their\nincessant struggles with the native races, and this time they had barely\nbeen able to hold their own against an insignificant tribe of one of the\nleast warlike branches. It was thought certain by English officials on the\nground, that the example would not be lost on fiercer warriors, and that a\nnative conflagration might any day burst into blaze in other regions of\nthe immense territory. The British government despatched an agent of great\nlocal experience; he found the Boer (M11) government, which was loosely\norganised even at its best, now completely paralysed, without money,\nwithout internal authority, without defensive power against external foes.\nIn alarm at the possible result of such a situation on the peace of the\nEuropean domain in South Africa, he proclaimed the sovereignty of the\nQueen, and set up an administration. This he was empowered by secret\ninstructions to do, if he should think fit. Here was the initial error.\nThe secretary of state in Downing Street approved (June 21, 1877), on the\nexpress assumption that a sufficient number of the inhabitants desired to\nbecome the Queen's subjects. Some have thought that if he had waited the\nBoers would have sought annexation, but this seems to be highly\nimprobable. In the annexation proclamation promises were made to the Boers\nof 'the fullest legislative privileges compatible with the circumstances\nof the country and the intelligence of the people.' An assembly was also\npromised.\n\nThe soundness of the assumption was immediately disputed. The Boer\ngovernment protested against annexation. Two delegates--one of them Mr.\nKruger--repaired to England, assured Lord Carnarvon that their fellow-Boers\nwere vehemently opposed to annexation, and earnestly besought its\nreversal. The minister insisted that he was right and they were wrong.\nThey went back, and in order to convince the government of the true\nstrength of feeling for independence, petitions were prepared seeking the\nrestoration of independence. The signatures were those of qualified\nelectors of the old republic. The government were informed by Sir Garnet\nWolseley that there were about 8000 persons of the age to be electors, of\nwhom rather fewer than 7000 were Boers. To the petitions were appended\nalmost exactly 7000 names. The colonial office recognised that the\nopposition of the Boers to annexation was practically unanimous. The\ncomparatively insignificant addresses on the other side came from the town\nand digging population, which was as strong in favour of the suppression\nof the old republic, as the rural population was strong against it.\n\nFor many months the Boers persevered. They again sent Kruger and Joubert\nto England; they held huge mass meetings; they poured out prayers to the\nhigh commissioner to give back their independence; they sent memorial\nafter memorial to the secretary of state. In the autumn of 1879 Sir Garnet\nWolseley assumed the administration of the Transvaal, and issued a\nproclamation setting forth the will and determination of the government of\nthe Queen that this Transvaal territory should be, and should continue to\nbe for ever, an integral part of her dominions in South Africa. In the\nclosing days of 1879 the secretary of state, Sir Michael Hicks Beach, who\nhad succeeded Carnarvon (Jan. 1878), received from the same eminent\nsoldier a comprehensive despatch, warning him that the meetings of protest\nagainst annexation, attended by thousands of armed men in angry mood,\nwould be likely to end in a serious explosion. While putting all sides of\nthe question before his government, Sir Garnet inserted one paragraph of\nmomentous import. \"The Transvaal,\" he said, \"is rich in minerals; gold has\nalready been found in quantities, and there can be little doubt that\nlarger and still more valuable goldfields will sooner or later be\ndiscovered. Any such discovery would soon bring a large British population\nhere. The time must eventually arrive when the Boers will be in a small\nminority, as the country is very sparsely peopled, and would it not\ntherefore be a very near-sighted policy to recede now from the position we\nhave taken up here, simply because for some years to come, the retention\nof 2000 or 3000 troops may be necessary to reconsolidate our power?\"(11)\nThis pregnant and far-sighted warning seems to have been little considered\nby English statesmen of either party at this critical time or afterwards,\nthough it proved a vital element in any far-sighted decision.\n\nOn March 9--the day, as it happened, on which the intention to dissolve\nparliament was made public--Sir Garnet telegraphed for a renewed expression\nof the determination of the government to retain the country, and he\nreceived the assurance that he sought. The Vaal river, he told the Boers,\nwould flow backwards through the Drakensberg sooner than the British would\nbe withdrawn from the Transvaal. The picturesque figure did not soften the\nBoer heart. (M12) This was the final share of the conservative cabinet in\nthe unfortunate enterprise on which they had allowed the country to be\nlaunched.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nWhen the question of annexation had originally come before parliament, Mr.\nGladstone was silent. He was averse to it; he believed that it would\ninvolve us in unmixed mischief; but he felt that to make this judgment\nknown at that period would not have had any effect towards reversing what\nhad been done, while it might impede the chances of a good issue, slender\nas these might be.(12) In the discussion at the opening of the final\nsession of the old parliament, Lord Hartington as leader of the\nopposition, enforcing the general doctrine that it behoved us to\nconcentrate our resources, and to limit instead of extending the empire,\ntook the Transvaal for an illustration. It was now conclusively proved, he\nsaid, that a large majority of the Boers were bitterly against annexation.\nThat being so, it ought not to be considered a settled question merely\nbecause annexation had taken place; and if we should find that the balance\nof advantage was in favour of the restoration of independence, no false\nsense of dignity should stand in the way. Mr. Gladstone in Midlothian had\nbeen more reserved. In that indictment, there are only two or three\nreferences, and those comparatively fugitive and secondary, to this\narticle of charge. There is a sentence in one of the Midlothian speeches\nabout bringing a territory inhabited by a free European Christian republic\nwithin the limits of a monarchy, though out of 8000 persons qualified to\nvote, 6500 voted against it. In another sentence he speaks of the\nTransvaal as a country \"where we have chosen most unwisely, I am tempted\nto say insanely, to place ourselves in the strange predicament of the free\nsubjects of a monarchy going to coerce the free subjects of a republic,\nand to compel them to accept a citizenship which they decline and refuse;\nbut if that is to be done, it must be done by force.\"(13) A third sentence\ncompletes the tale: \"If Cyprus and the Transvaal were as valuable as they\nare valueless, I would repudiate them because they are obtained by means\ndishonourable to the character of the country.\" These utterances of the\nmighty unofficial chief and the responsible official leader of the\nopposition were all. The Boer republicans thought that they were enough.\n\nOn coming into power, the Gladstone government found the official evidence\nall to the effect that the political aspect of the Transvaal was decidedly\nimproving. The commissioners, the administrators, the agents, were\nunanimous. Even those among them who insisted on the rooted dislike of the\nmain body of the Boers to British authority, still thought that they were\nacquiescing, exactly as the Boers in the Cape Colony had acquiesced. Could\nministers justify abandonment, without far stronger evidence than they\nthen possessed that they could not govern the Transvaal peaceably? Among\nother things, they were assured that abandonment would be fatal to the\nprospects of confederation, and might besides entail a civil war. On May\n7, Sir Bartle Frere pressed the new ministers for an early announcement of\ntheir policy, in order to prevent the mischiefs of agitation. The cabinet\ndecided the question on May 12, and agreed upon the terms of a\ntelegram(14) by which Lord Kimberley was to inform Frere that the\nsovereignty of the Queen over the Transvaal could not be relinquished, but\nthat he hoped the speedy accomplishment of confederation would enable free\ninstitutions to be conferred with promptitude. In other words, in spite of\nall that had been defiantly said by Lord Hartington, and more cautiously\nimplied by Mr. Gladstone, the new government at once placed themselves\nexactly in the position of the old one.(15)\n\nThe case was stated in his usual nervous language by Mr. Chamberlain a few\nmonths later.(16) \"When we came into office,\" (M13) he said, \"we were all\nagreed that the original annexation was a mistake, that it ought never to\nhave been made; and there arose the question could it then be undone? We\nwere in possession of information to the effect that the great majority of\nthe people of the Transvaal were reconciled to annexation; we were told\nthat if we reversed the decision of the late government, there would be a\ngreat probability of civil war and anarchy; and acting upon these\nrepresentations, we decided that we could not recommend the Queen to\nrelinquish her sovereignty. But we assured the Boers that we would take\nthe earliest opportunity of granting to them the freest and most complete\nlocal institutions compatible with the welfare of South Africa. It is easy\nto be wise after the event. It is easy to see now that we were wrong in so\ndeciding. I frankly admit we made a mistake. Whatever the risk was, and I\nbelieve it was a great risk, of civil war and anarchy in the Transvaal, it\nwas not so great a danger as that we actually incurred by maintaining the\nwrong of our predecessors.\" Such was the language used by Mr. Chamberlain\nafter special consultation with Lord Kimberley. With characteristic\ntenacity and that aversion ever to yield even the smallest point, which\ncomes to a man saturated with the habit of a lifetime of debate, Mr.\nGladstone wrote to Mr. Chamberlain (June 8, 1881): \"I have read with\npleasure what you say of the Transvaal. Yet I am not prepared, for myself,\nto concede that we made a mistake in not advising a revocation of the\nannexation when we came in.\"\n\nAt this instant a letter reached Mr. Gladstone from Kruger and Joubert\n(May 10, 1880), telling him that there was a firm belief among their\npeople that truth prevailed. \"They were confident that one day or another,\nby the mercy of the Lord, the reins of the imperial government would be\nentrusted again to men who look out for the honour and glory of England,\nnot by acts of injustice and crushing force, but by the way of justice and\ngood faith. And, indeed, this belief has proven to be a good belief.\" It\nwould have been well for the Boers and well for us, if that had indeed\nbeen so. Unluckily the reply sent in Mr. Gladstone's name (June 15),\ninformed them that obligations had now been contracted, especially towards\nthe natives, that could not be set aside, but that consistently with the\nmaintenance of the Queen's sovereignty over the Transvaal, ministers\ndesired that the white inhabitants should enjoy the fullest liberty to\nmanage their local affairs. \"We believe that this liberty may be most\neasily and promptly conceded to the Transvaal, as a member of a South\nAfrican confederation.\" Solemn and deliberate as this sounds, no step\nwhatever was effectively taken towards conferring this full liberty, or\nany liberty at all.\n\nIt is worth while, on this material point, to look back. The original\nproclamation had promised the people the fullest legislative privileges\ncompatible with the circumstances of the country and the intelligence of\nthe people. Then, at a later date (April 1877), Sir Bartle Frere met a\ngreat assemblage of Boers, and told them that they should receive, as soon\nas circumstances rendered it practicable, as large a measure of\nself-government as was enjoyed by any colony in South Africa.(17) The\nsecretary of state had also spoken to the same effect. During the short\nperiod in which Sir Bartle Frere was connected with the administration of\nthe Transvaal, he earnestly pressed upon the government the necessity for\nredeeming the promises made at the time of annexation, \"of the same\nmeasure of perfect self-government now enjoyed by Cape Colony,\" always, of\ncourse, under the authority of the crown.(18) As the months went on, no\nattempt was made to fulfil all these solemn pledges, and the Boers\nnaturally began to look on them as so much mockery. Their anger in turn\nincreased the timidity of government, and it was argued that the first use\nthat the Boers would make of a free constitution would be to stop the\nsupplies. So a thing called an Assembly was set up (November 9, 1879),\ncomposed partly of British officers and partly of nominated members. This\nwas a complete falsification of a whole set of our national promises.\nStill annexation might conceivably have been (M14) accepted, even the\nsting might have been partially taken out of the delay of the promised\nfree institutions, if only the administration had been considerate,\njudicious, and adapted to the ways and habits of the people. Instead of\nbeing all these things it was stiff, headstrong, and intensely stupid.(19)\n\nThe value of the official assurances from agents on the spot that\nrestoration of independence would destroy the chances of confederation,\nand would give fuel to the fires of agitation, was speedily tested. It was\nprecisely these results that flowed from the denial of independence. The\nincensed Boer leaders worked so successfully on the Cape parliament\nagainst confederation, that this favourite panacea was indefinitely hung\nup. Here, again, it is puzzling to know why ministers did not retrace\ntheir steps. Here, again, their blind guides in the Transvaal persisted\nthat they knew the road; persisted that with the exception of a turbulent\nhandful, the Boers of the Transvaal only sighed for the enjoyment of the\n_pax britannica_, or, if even that should happen to be not quite true, at\nany rate they were incapable of united action, were mortal cowards, and\ncould never make a stand in the field. While folly of this kind was\nfinding its way by every mail to Downing Street, violent disturbances\nbroke out in the collection of taxes. Still Sir Owen Lanyon--who had been\nplaced in control in the Transvaal in March 1879--assured Lord Kimberley\nthat no serious trouble would arise (November 14). At the end of the month\nhe still denies that there is much or any cause for anxiety. In December\nseveral thousands of Boers assembled at Paardekraal, declared for the\nrestoration of their republic, and a general rising followed. Colley, who\nhad succeeded General Wolseley as governor of Natal and high commissioner\nfor south-east Africa, had been so little prepared for this, that at the\nend of August he had recommended a reduction of the Transvaal\ngarrisons,(20) and even now he thought the case so little serious that he\ncontented himself (December 4) with ordering four companies to march for\nthe Transvaal. Then he and Lanyon began to get alarmed, and with good\nreason. The whole country, except three or four beleaguered British posts,\nfell into the hands of the Boers.\n\nThe pleas for failure to take measures to conciliate the Boers in the\ninterval between Frere's recall and the outbreak, were that Sir Hercules\nRobinson had not arrived;(21) that confederation was not yet wholly given\nup; that resistance to annexation was said to be abating; that time was in\nour favour; that the one thing indispensable to conciliate the Boers was a\nrailway to Delagoa Bay; that this needed a treaty, and we hoped soon to\nget Portugal to ratify a treaty, and then we might tell the Boers that we\nshould soon make a survey, with a view at some early date to proceed with\nthe project, and thus all would in the end come right. So a fresh page was\nturned in the story of loitering unwisdom.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOn December 6, Mr. Brand, the sagacious president of the Orange Free\nState, sent a message of anxious warning to the acting governor at Cape\nTown, urging that means should be devised to avert an imminent collision.\nThat message, which might possibly have wakened up the colonial office to\nthe real state of the case, did not reach London until December 30.\nExcuses for this fatal delay were abundant: a wire was broken; the\ngovernor did not think himself concerned with Transvaal affairs; he sent\nthe message on to the general, supposing that the general would send it on\nhome; and so forth. For a whole string of the very best reasons in the\nworld the message that (M15) might have prevented the outbreak, arrived\nthrough the slow post at Whitehall just eleven days after the outbreak had\nbegun. Members of the legislature at the Cape urged the British government\nto send a special commissioner to inquire and report. The policy of giving\nconsideration to the counsels of the Cape legislature had usually been\npursued by the wiser heads concerned in South African affairs, and when\nthe counsels of the chief of the Free State were urgent in the same\ndirection, their weight should perhaps have been decisive. Lord Kimberley,\nhowever, did not think the moment opportune (Dec. 30).(22) Before many\nweeks, as it happened, a commission was indeed sent, but unfortunately not\nuntil after the mischief had been done. Meanwhile in the Queen's speech a\nweek later an emphatic paragraph announced that the duty of vindicating\nher Majesty's authority had set aside for the time any plan for securing\nto European settlers in the Transvaal full control over their own local\naffairs. Seldom has the sovereign been made the mouthpiece of an utterance\nmore shortsighted.\n\nAgain the curtain rose upon a new and memorable act. Four days after the\nQueen's speech, President Brand a second time appeared upon the scene\n(Jan. 10, 1881), with a message hoping that an effort would be made\nwithout the least delay to prevent further bloodshed. Lord Kimberley\nreplied that provided the Boers would desist from their armed opposition,\nthe government did not despair of making a satisfactory settlement. Two\ndays later (Jan. 12) the president told the government that not a moment\nshould be lost, and some one (say Chief Justice de Villiers) should be\nsent to the Transvaal burghers by the government, to stop further\ncollision and with a clear and definite proposal for a settlement.\n\"Moments,\" he said, \"are precious.\" For twelve days these precious moments\npassed. On Jan. 26 the secretary of state informed the high commissioner\nat Cape Town, now Sir Hercules Robinson, that President Brand pressed for\nthe offer of terms and conditions to the Boers through Robinson, \"provided\nthey cease from armed opposition, making it clear to them how this is to\nbe understood.\" On this suggestion he instructed Robinson to inform Brand\nthat if armed opposition should at once cease, the government \"would\nthereupon endeavour to frame such a scheme as in their belief would\nsatisfy all friends of the Transvaal community.\" Brand promptly advised\nthat the Boers should be told of this forthwith, before the satisfactory\narrangements proposed had been made more difficult by further collision.\nThis was on Jan. 29. Unhappily on the very day before, the British force\nhad been repulsed at Laing's Nek. Colley, on Jan. 23, had written to\nJoubert, calling on the Boer leaders to disperse, informing them that\nlarge forces were already arriving from England and India, and assuring\nthem that if they would dismiss their followers, he would forward to\nLondon any statement of their grievances. It would have been a great deal\nmore sensible to wait for an answer. Instead of waiting for an answer\nColley attacked (Jan. 28) and was beaten back--the whole proceeding a\nrehearsal of a still more disastrous error a month later.\n\nBrand was now more importunate than ever, earnestly urging on General\nColley that the nature of the scheme should be made known to the Boers,\nand a guarantee undertaken that if they submitted they would not be\ntreated as rebels. \"I have replied,\" Colley tells Lord Kimberley, \"that I\ncan give no such assurance, and can add nothing to your words.\" In other\ncorrespondence he uses grim language about the deserts of some of the\nleaders. On this Mr. Gladstone, writing to Lord Kimberley (Feb. 5), says\ntruly enough, \"Colley with a vengeance counts his chickens before they are\nhatched, and his curious letter throws some light backward on the\nproceedings in India. His line is singularly wide of ours.\" The secretary\nof state, finding barrack-room rigidity out of place, directs Colley (Feb.\n8) to inform Brand (M16) that the government would be ready to give all\nreasonable guarantees as to treatment of Boers after submission, if they\nceased from armed opposition, and a scheme would be framed for permanent\nfriendly settlement. As it happened, on the day on which this was\ndespatched from Downing Street, Colley suffered a second check at the\nIngogo River (Feb. 8). Let us note that he was always eager in his\nrecognition of the readiness and promptitude of the military support from\nthe government at home.(23)\n\nThen an important move took place from the other quarter. The Boers made\ntheir first overture. It came in a letter from Kruger to Colley (Feb. 12).\nIts purport was fairly summarised by Colley in a telegram to the colonial\nsecretary, and the pith of it was that Kruger and his Boers were so\ncertain of the English government being on their side if the truth only\nreached them, that they would not fear the result of inquiry by a royal\ncommission, and were ready, if troops were ordered to withdraw from the\nTransvaal, to retire from their position, and give such a commission a\nfree passage. This telegram reached London on Feb. 13th, and on the 15th\nit was brought before the cabinet.\n\nMr. Gladstone immediately informed the Queen (Feb. 15) that viewing the\nlikelihood of early and sanguinary actions, Lord Kimberley thought that\nthe receipt of such an overture at such a juncture, although its terms\nwere inadmissible, made it a duty to examine whether it afforded any hope\nof settlement. The cabinet were still more strongly inclined towards\ncoming to terms. Any other decision would have broken up the government,\nfor on at least one division in the House on Transvaal affairs Mr. Bright\nand Mr. Chamberlain, along with three other ministers not in the cabinet,\nhad abstained from voting. Colley was directed (Feb. 16) to inform the\nBoers that on their desisting from armed opposition, the government would\nbe ready to send commissioners to develop a scheme of settlement, and that\nmeanwhile if this proposal were accepted, the English general was\nauthorised to agree to the suspension of hostilities. This was in\nsubstance a conditional acceptance of the Boer overture.(24) On the same\nday the general was told from the war office that, as respected the\ninterval before receiving a reply from Mr. Kruger, the government did not\nbind his discretion, but \"we are anxious for your making arrangements to\navoid effusion of blood.\" The spirit of these instructions was clear. A\nweek later (Feb. 23) the general showed that he understood this, for he\nwrote to Mr. Childers that \"he would not without strong reason undertake\nany operation likely to bring on another engagement, until Kruger's reply\nwas received.\"(25) If he had only stood firm to this, a tragedy would have\nbeen averted.\n\nOn receiving the telegram of Feb. 16, Colley was puzzled to know what was\nthe meaning of suspending hostilities if armed opposition were abandoned\nby the Boers, and he asked the plain question (Feb. 19) whether he was to\nleave Laing's Nek (which was in Natal territory) in Boer occupation, and\nour garrisons isolated and short of provisions, or was he to occupy\nLaing's Nek and relieve the garrisons. Colley's inquiries were instantly\nconsidered by the cabinet, and the reply settled. The garrisons were to be\nfree to provision themselves and peaceful intercourse allowed; \"but,\"\nKimberley tells Colley, \"we do not mean that you should march to the\nrelief of garrisons or occupy Laing's Nek, if the arrangement proceeds.\n_Fix reasonable time within which answer must be sent by Boers._\"\n\nOn Feb. 21 Colley despatched a letter to Kruger, stating that on the Boers\nceasing from armed opposition, the Queen would appoint a commission. He\nadded that \"upon this proposal being accepted _within forty-eight hours\nfrom the receipt of this letter_,\" he was authorised to agree to a\nsuspension of hostilities on the part of the British.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\n(M17) In this interval a calamity, destined to be historic, occurred,\ntrivial in a military sense, but formidable for many years to come in the\nissues moral and political that it raised, and in the passions for which\nit became a burning watchword. On the night of Feb. 26, Colley with a\nforce of 359 men all told, made up of three different corps, marched out\nof his camp and occupied Majuba Hill. The general's motives for this\nprecipitancy are obscure. The best explanation seems to be that he\nobserved the Boers to be pushing gradually forward on to advanced ground,\nand thought it well, without waiting for Kruger's reply, to seize a height\nlying between the Nek and his own little camp, the possession of which\nwould make Laing's Nek untenable. He probably did not expect that his move\nwould necessarily lead to fighting, and in fact when they saw the height\noccupied, the Boers did at first for a little time actually begin to\nretire from the Nek, though they soon changed their minds.(26) The British\noperation is held by military experts to have been rash; proper steps were\nnot taken by the general to protect himself upon Majuba, the men were not\nwell handled, and the Boers showed determined intrepidity as they climbed\nsteadily up the hill from platform to platform, taking from seven in the\nmorning (Feb. 27) up to half-past eleven to advance some three thousand\nyards and not losing a man, until at last they scaled the crest and poured\na deadly fire upon the small British force, driving them headlong from the\nsummit, seasoned soldiers though most of them were. The general who was\nresponsible for the disaster paid the penalty with his life. Some ninety\nothers fell and sixty were taken prisoners.\n\nAt home the sensation was profound. The hysterical complaints about our\nmen and officers, General Wood wrote to Childers, \"are more like French\ncharacter than English used to be.\" Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues had a\npolitical question to consider. Colley could not be technically accused of\nwant of good faith in moving forward on the 26th, as the time that he had\nappointed had expired. But though Majuba is just inside Natal--some four\nmiles over the border--his advance was, under the circumstances of the\nmoment, essentially an aggressive movement. Could his defeat justify us in\nwithdrawing our previous proposals to the Boers? Was a military\nmiscarriage, of no magnitude in itself, to be turned into a plea for\nabandoning a policy deliberately adopted for what were thought powerful\nand decisive reasons? \"Suppose, for argument's sake,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote\nto Lord Kimberley when the sinister news arrived (Mar. 2), \"that at the\nmoment when Colley made the unhappy attack on Majuba Hill, there shall\nturn out to have been decided on, and possibly on its way, a satisfactory\nor friendly reply from the Boer government to your telegram? I fear the\nchances may be against this; but if it prove to be the case, we could not\nbecause we had failed on Sunday last, insist on shedding more blood.\" As\nit happened, the Boer answer was decided on before the attack at Majuba,\nand was sent to Colley by Kruger at Heidelberg in ignorance of the event,\nthe day after the ill-fated general's death. The members of the Transvaal\ngovernment set out their gratitude for the declaration that under certain\nconditions the government of the Queen was inclined to cease hostilities;\nand expressed their opinion that a meeting of representatives from both\nsides would probably lead with all speed to a satisfactory result. This\nreply was despatched by Kruger on the day on which Colley's letter of the\n21st came into his hands (Feb. 28), and it reached Colley's successor on\nMarch 7.\n\nSir Evelyn Wood, now after the death of Colley in chief command,\nthroughout recommended military action. Considering the disasters we had\nsustained, he thought the happiest result would be that after a successful\nbattle, which he hoped to fight in about a fortnight, the Boers would\ndisperse without any guarantee, and many now in the field against their\nwill would readily settle down. He explained that by happy result, he did\nnot mean that a series of actions fought by any six companies could affect\nour military prestige, but that a British victory would enable the Boer\n(M18) leaders to quench a fire that had got beyond their control. The next\nday after this recommendation to fight (March 6), he, of his own motion,\naccepted a proposal telegraphed from Joubert at the instigation of the\nindefatigable Brand, for a suspension of hostilities for eight days, for\nthe purpose of receiving Kruger's reply. There was a military reason\nbehind. General Wood knew that the garrison in Potchefstrom must surrender\nunless the place were revictualled, and three other beleaguered garrisons\nwere in almost equal danger. The government at once told him that his\narmistice was approved. This armistice, though Wood's reasons were\nmilitary rather than diplomatic, virtually put a stop to suggestions for\nfurther fighting, for it implied, and could in truth mean nothing else,\nthat if Kruger's reply were promising, the next step would not be a fight,\nbut the continuance of negotiation. Sir Evelyn Wood had not advised a\nfight for the sake of restoring military prestige, but to make it easier\nfor the Boer leaders to break up bands that were getting beyond their\ncontrol. There was also present in his mind the intention, if the\ngovernment would sanction it, of driving the Boers out of Natal, as soon\nas ever he had got his men up across the swollen river. So far from\nsanctioning it, the government expressly forbade him to take offensive\naction. On March 8, General Wood telegraphed home: \"Do not imagine I wish\nto fight. I know the attending misery too well. But now you have so many\ntroops coming, I recommend decisive though lenient action; and I can,\nhumanly speaking, promise victory. Sir G. Colley never engaged more than\nsix companies. I shall use twenty and two regiments of cavalry in\ndirection known to myself only, and undertake to enforce dispersion.\" This\nthen was General Wood's view. On the day before he sent this telegram, the\ngeneral already had received Kruger's reply to the effect that they were\nanxious to negotiate, and it would be best for commissioners from the two\nsides to meet. It is important to add that the government were at the same\ntime receiving urgent warnings from President Brand that Dutch sympathy,\nboth in the Cape Colony and in the Orange Free State, with the Dutch in\nthe Transvaal was growing dangerous, and that the prolongation of\nhostilities would end in a formidable extension of their area.(27) Even in\nJanuary Lanyon had told Colley that men from the Free State were in the\nfield against him. Three days before Majuba, Lord Kimberley had written to\nColley (February 24), \"My great fear has been lest the Free State should\ntake part against us, or even some movement take place in the Cape Colony.\nIf our willingness to come to terms has avoided such a calamity, I shall\nconsider it will have been a most important point gained.\"(28)\n\nTwo memoranda for the Queen show the views of the cabinet on the new\nposition of affairs:--\n\n\n _To the Queen._\n\n _March 8, 1881._--The cabinet considered with much care the terms\n of the reply to Sir Evelyn Wood's telegram reporting (not\n textually) the answer of the Boer leaders to the proposals which\n Sir George Colley had sent to them. They felt justified in\n construing the Boer answer as leaving the way open to the\n appointment of commissioners, according to the telegram previously\n seen and approved by your Majesty. They were anxious to keep the\n question moving in this direction, and under the extreme urgency\n of the circumstances as to time, they have despatched a telegram\n to Sir Evelyn Wood accordingly. Mr. Gladstone has always urged,\n and still feels, that the proposal of the Boers for the\n appointment of commissioners was fortunate on this among other\n grounds, that it involved a recognition of your Majesty's _de\n facto_ authority in the Transvaal.\n\n _March 12._--The cabinet determined, in order to obviate\n misapprehension or suspicion, to desire Sir E. Wood to inform the\n government from what quarter the suggestion of an armistice\n actually proceeded. They agreed that the proper persons to be\n appointed as commissioners were Sir H. Robinson, Sir E. Wood, and\n Mr. De Villiers, chief justice of the Cape; together with Mr.\n Brand of the Free State as _amicus curiae_, should he be willing to\n lend his good offices in the spirit in which he has hitherto\n acted. The cabinet then considered fully the terms of the\n communication to be made to the Boers by Sir E. Wood. In this,\n which is matter of extreme urgency, they prescribe a time for the\n reply of the Boers not later than the 18th; renew the promise of\n amnesty; require the dispersion of the Boers to their own homes;\n and state the general outlines of the permanent arrangement which\n they would propose for the territory.... The cabinet believe that\n in requiring the dispersion of the Boers to their homes, they will\n have made the necessary provision for the vindication of your\n Majesty's authority, so as to open the way for considering terms\n of pacific settlement.\n\n\nOn March 22, under instructions from home, the general concluded an\nagreement for peace. The Boers made some preliminary requests to which the\ngovernment declined to assent. Their proposal that the commission should\nbe joint was rejected; its members were named exclusively by the crown.\nThey agreed to withdraw from the Nek and disperse to their homes; we\nagreed not to occupy the Nek, and not to follow them up with troops,\nthough General Roberts with a large force had sailed for the Cape on March\n6. Then the political negotiation went forward. Would it have been wise,\nas the question was well put by the Duke of Argyll (not then a member of\nthe government), \"to stop the negotiation for the sake of defeating a body\nof farmers who had succeeded under accidental circumstances and by great\nrashness on the part of our commanders, in gaining a victory over us?\"\nThis was the true point.\n\nThe parliamentary attack was severe. The galling argument was that\ngovernment had conceded to three defeats what they had refused to ten\ntimes as many petitions, memorials, remonstrances; and we had given to men\nwith arms in their hands what we refused to their peaceful prayers. A\ngreat lawyer in the House of Lords made the speech that is expected from a\ngreat lawyer who is also a conspicuous party leader; and ministers\nundoubtedly exposed an extent of surface that was not easy to defend, not\nbecause they had made a peace, but because they had failed to prevent the\nrising. High military authorities found a curious plea for going on, in\nthe fact that this was our first contest with Europeans since the\nbreech-loader came in, and it was desirable to give our troops confidence\nin the new-fashioned weapon. Reasons of a very different sort from this\nwere needed to overthrow the case for peace. How could the miscarriage at\nMajuba, brought on by our own action, warrant us in drawing back from an\nengagement already deliberately proffered? Would not such a proceeding,\nasked Lord Kimberley, have been little short of an act of bad faith? Or\nwere we, in Mr. Gladstone's language, to say to the Boers, \"Although we\nmight have treated with you before these military miscarriages, we cannot\ndo so now, until we offer up a certain number of victims in expiation of\nthe blood that has been shed. Until that has been done, the very things\nwhich we believed before to be reasonable, which we were ready to discuss\nwith you, we refuse to discuss now, and we must wait until Moloch has been\nappeased\"? We had opened a door for negotiation; were we to close it\nagain, because a handful of our forces had rashly seized a post they could\nnot hold? The action of the Boers had been defensive of the _status quo_,\nfor if we had established ourselves on Majuba, their camp at Laing's Nek\nwould have been untenable. The minister protested in the face of the House\nof Commons that \"it would have been most unjust and cruel, it would have\nbeen cowardly and mean, if on account of these defensive operations we had\nrefused to go forward with the negotiations which, before the first of\nthese miscarriages had occurred, we had already declared that we were\nwilling to promote and undertake.\"(29)\n\nThe policy of the reversal of annexation is likely to remain a topic of\nendless dispute.(30) As Sir Hercules Robinson put (M19) it in a letter to\nLord Kimberley, written a week before Majuba (Feb. 21), no possible course\nwas free from grave objection. If you determine, he said, to hold by the\nannexation of the Transvaal, the country would have to be conquered and\nheld in subjection for many years by a large force. Free institutions and\nself-government under British rule would be an impossibility. The only\npalliative would be to dilute Dutch feeling by extensive English\nimmigration, like that of 1820 to the Eastern Province. But that would\ntake time, and need careful watching; and in the meantime the result of\nholding the Transvaal as a conquered colony would undoubtedly be to excite\nbitter hatred between the English and Dutch throughout the Free State and\nthis colony, which would be a constant source of discomfort and danger. On\nthe other hand, he believed that if they were, after a series of reverses\nand before any success, to yield all the Boers asked for, they would be so\noverbearing and quarrelsome that we should soon be at war with them again.\nOn the whole, Sir Hercules was disposed to think--extraordinary as such a\nview must appear--that the best plan would be to re-establish the supremacy\nof our arms, and then let the malcontents go. He thought no middle course\nany longer practicable. Yet surely this course was open to all the\nobjections. To hold on to annexation at any cost was intelligible. But to\nface all the cost and all the risks of a prolonged and a widely extended\nconflict, with the deliberate intention of allowing the enemy to have his\nown way after the conflict had been brought to an end, was not\nintelligible and was not defensible.\n\nSome have argued that we ought to have brought up an overwhelming force,\nto demonstrate that we were able to beat them, before we made peace.\nUnfortunately demonstrations of this species easily turn into\nprovocations, and talk of this kind mostly comes from those who believe,\nnot that peace was made in the wrong way, but that a peace giving their\ncountry back to the Boers ought never to have been made at all, on any\nterms or in any way. This was not the point from which either cabinet or\nparliament started. The government had decided that annexation had been an\nerror. The Boers had proposed inquiry. The government assented on\ncondition that the Boers dispersed. Without waiting a reasonable time for\na reply, our general was worsted in a rash and trivial attack. Did this\ncancel our proffered bargain? The point was simple and unmistakable,\nthough party heat at home, race passion in the colony, and our everlasting\nhuman proneness to mix up different questions, and to answer one point by\narguments that belong to another, all combined to produce a confusion of\nmind that a certain school of partisans have traded upon ever since.\nStrange in mighty nations is moral cowardice, disguised as a Roman pride.\nAll the more may we admire the moral courage of the minister. For moral\ncourage may be needed even where aversion to bloodshed fortunately happens\nto coincide with high prudence and sound policy of state.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe negotiations proceeded, if negotiation be the right word. The Boers\ndisbanded, a powerful British force was encamped on the frontier, no Boer\nrepresentative sat on the commission, and the terms of final agreement\nwere in fact, as the Boers afterwards alleged, dictated and imposed. Mr.\nGladstone watched with a closeness that, considering the tremendous load\nof Ireland, parliamentary procedure, and the incessant general business of\na prime minister, is amazing. When the Boers were over-pressing, he warned\nthem that it was only \"the unshorn strength\" of the administration that\nenabled the English cabinet, rather to the surprise of the world, to spare\nthem the sufferings of a war. \"We could not,\" he said to Lord Kimberley,\n\"have carried our Transvaal policy, unless we had here a strong\ngovernment, and we spent some, if not much, of our strength in carrying\nit.\" A convention was concluded at Pretoria in (M20) August, recognising\nthe quasi-independence of the Transvaal, subject to the suzerainty of the\nQueen, and with certain specified reservations. The Pretoria convention of\n1881 did not work smoothly. Transvaal affairs were discussed from time to\ntime in the cabinet, and Mr. Chamberlain became the spokesman of the\ngovernment on a business where he was destined many years after to make so\nconspicuous and irreparable a mark. The Boers again sent Kruger to London,\nand he made out a good enough case in the opinion of Lord Derby, then\nsecretary of state, to justify a fresh arrangement. By the London\nconvention of 1884, the Transvaal state was restored to its old title of\nthe South African Republic; the assertion of suzerainty in the preamble of\nthe old convention did not appear in the new one;(31) and various other\nmodifications were introduced--the most important of them, in the light of\nlater events, being a provision for white men to have full liberty to\nreside in any part of the republic, to trade in it, and to be liable to\nthe same taxes only as those exacted from citizens of the republic.\n\nWhether we look at the Sand River Convention in 1852, which conferred\nindependence; or at Shepstone's proclamation in 1877, which took\nindependence away; or at the convention of Pretoria in 1881, which in a\nqualified shape gave it back; or at the convention of London in 1884,\nwhich qualified the qualification over again, till independence, subject\nto two or three specified conditions, was restored,--we can but recall the\ncaustic apologue of sage Selden in his table-talk on contracts. \"Lady\nKent,\" he says, \"articled with Sir Edward Herbert that he should come to\nher when she sent for him, and stay with her as long as she would have\nhim; to which he set his hand. Then he articled with her that he should go\naway when he pleased, and stay away as long as he pleased; to which she\nset her hand. This is the epitome of all the contracts in the world,\nbetwixt man and man, betwixt prince and subject.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter IV. New Phases Of The Irish Revolution. (1880-1882)\n\n\n The agitation of the Irish land league strikes at the roots of all\n contract, and therefore at the very foundations of modern society;\n but if we would effectually withstand it, we must cease to insist\n on maintaining the forms of free contract where the reality is\n impossible.--T. H. GREEN.(32)\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nOn the day in 1880 when Lord Beaconsfield was finally quitting the\nofficial house in Downing Street, one who had been the ablest and most\nzealous supporter of his policy in the press, called to bid him good-bye.\nThe visitor talked gloomily of the national prospect; of difficulties with\nAustria, with Russia, with the Turk; of the confusions to come upon Europe\nfrom the doctrines of Midlothian. The fallen minister listened. Then\nlooking at his friend, he uttered in deep tones a single word.\n\"_Ireland!_\" he said.\n\nIn a speech made in 1882 Mr. Gladstone put the case to the House of\nCommons:--\n\n\n The government had to deal with a state of things in Ireland\n entirely different from any that had been known there for fifty\n years.... With a political revolution we have ample strength to\n cope. There is no reason why our cheeks should grow pale, or why\n our hearts should sink, at the idea of grappling with a political\n revolution. The strength of this country is tenfold what is\n required for such a purpose. But a social revolution is a very\n different matter.... The seat and source of the movement was not\n to be found during the time the government was in power. It is to\n be looked for in the foundation of the land league.(33)\n\n\nTwo years later he said at Edinburgh:--\n\n\n I frankly admit I had had much upon my hands connected with the\n doings of the Beaconsfield government in almost every quarter of\n the world, and I did not know, no one knew, the severity of the\n crisis that was already swelling upon the horizon, and that\n shortly after rushed upon us like a flood.(34)\n\n\nSo came upon them by degrees the predominance of Irish affairs and Irish\nactivity in the parliament of 1880, which had been chosen without much\nreference to Ireland.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nA social revolution with the land league for its organ in Ireland, and Mr.\nParnell and his party for its organ in parliament, now, in Mr. Gladstone's\nwords, rushed upon him and his government like a flood. The mind of the\ncountry was violently drawn from Dulcigno and Thessaly, from Batoum and\nErzeroum, from the wild squalor of Macedonia and Armenia to squalor not\nless wild in Connaught and Munster, in Mayo, Galway, Sligo, Kerry.\nAgrarian agitation on the one hand, parliamentary violence on the other,\nwere the two potent weapons by which the Irish revolutionary leader\nassailed the misrule of the British garrison as the agents of the British\nparliament in his country. This formidable movement slowly unmasked\nitself. The Irish government, represented by Mr. Forster in the cabinet,\nbegan by allowing the law conferring exceptional powers upon the executive\nto lapse. The main reason was want of time to pass a fresh Act. In view of\nthe undoubted distress in some parts of Ireland, and of the harshness of\ncertain evictions, the government further persuaded the House of Commons\nto pass a bill for compensating an evicted tenant on certain conditions,\nif the landlord turned him out of his holding. The bill was no easy dose\neither for the cabinet or its friends. Lord Lansdowne stirred much\ncommotion by retiring from the government, and landowners and capitalists\nwere full of consternation. At least one member of the cabinet was\nprofoundly uneasy. It is impossible to read the letters of the Duke of\nArgyll to Mr. Gladstone on land, church establishment, the Zulu war,\nwithout wondering on what theory a cabinet was formed that included him,\nable and (M21) upright as he was, along with radicals like Mr.\nChamberlain. Before the cabinet was six months old the duke was plucking\nMr. Gladstone's sleeve with some vivacity at the Birmingham language on\nIrish land. Mr. Parnell in the committee stage abstained from supporting\nthe measure, sixteen liberals voted against the third reading, and the\nHouse of Lords, in which nationalist Ireland had not a single\nrepresentative, threw out the bill by a majority of 282 against 51. It was\nsaid that if all the opposition peers had stayed away, still ministers\nwould have been beaten by their own supporters.\n\nLooking back upon these events, Mr. Gladstone set out in a memorandum of\nlater years, that during the session of 1880 the details of the budget\ngave him a good deal to do, while the absorbing nature of foreign\nquestions before and after his accession to office had withdrawn his\nattention from his own Land Act of 1870:(35)--\n\n\n Late in the session came the decisive and disastrous rejection by\n the House of Lords of the bill by means of which the government\n had hoped to arrest the progress of disorder, and avert the\n necessity for measures in the direction of coercion. The rapid and\n vast extension of agrarian disturbance followed, as was to be\n expected, this wild excess of landlordism, and the Irish\n government proceeded to warn the cabinet that coercive legislation\n would be necessary.\n\n Forster allowed himself to be persuaded by the governmental agents\n in Ireland that the root of the evil lay within small compass;\n that there were in the several parishes a certain limited number\n of unreasonable and mischievous men, that these men were known to\n the police, and that if summary powers were confided to the Irish\n government, by the exercise of which these objectionable persons\n might be removed, the evil would die out of itself. I must say I\n never fell into this extraordinary illusion of Forster's about his\n 'village ruffian.' But he was a very impracticable man placed in a\n position of great responsibility. He was set upon a method of\n legislation adapted to the erroneous belief that the mischief lay\n only with a very limited number of well-known individuals, that is\n to say, the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act.... Two points of\n difference arose: first, as to the nature of the coercion to be\n used; secondly, as to its time. I insisted that we were bound to\n try what we could do against Parnell under the existing law,\n before asking for extraordinary powers. Both Bright and\n Chamberlain, if I remember right, did very good service in\n protesting against haste, and resisting Forster's desire to\n anticipate the ordinary session for the purpose of obtaining\n coercive powers. When, however, the argument of time was exhausted\n by the Parnell trial(36) and otherwise, I obtained no support from\n them in regard to the kind of coercion we were to ask. I\n considered it should be done by giving stringency to the existing\n law, but not by abolishing the right to be tried before being\n imprisoned. I felt the pulse of various members of the cabinet,\n among whom I seem to recollect Kimberley and Carlingford, but I\n could obtain no sympathy, and to my dismay both Chamberlain and\n Bright arrived at the conclusion that if there was to be coercion\n at all, which they lamented, there was something simple and\n effective in the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act which made\n such a method preferable to others.(37) I finally acquiesced. It\n may be asked why? My resistance would have broken up the\n government or involved my own retirement. My reason for\n acquiescence was that I bore in mind the special commission under\n which the government had taken office. It related to the foreign\n policy of the country, the whole spirit and effect of which we\n were to reconstruct. This work had not yet been fully\n accomplished, and it seemed to me that the effective prosecution\n of it was our first and highest duty. I therefore submitted.\n\n\nBy the end of November Mr. Gladstone explained to the Queen that the state\nof Ireland was menacing; its distinctive character was not so much that of\ngeneral insecurity of life, as that of a widespread conspiracy against\nproperty. The worst of it was, he said, that the leaders, unlike\nO'Connell, failed to denounce crime. The outbreak was not comparable to\nthat of 1832. In 1879 homicides were 64 against 242 for the earlier year\nof disturbance. But things were bad enough. (M22) In Galway they had a\npoliceman for every forty-seven adult males, and a soldier for every\nninety-seven. Yet dangerous terrorism was rampant. \"During more than\nthirty-seven years since I first entered a cabinet,\" Mr. Gladstone told\nthe Speaker (November 25), \"I have hardly known so difficult a question of\nadministration, as that of the immediate duty of the government in the\npresent state of Ireland. The multitude of circumstances to be taken into\naccount must strike every observer. Among these stand the novelty of the\nsuspension of Habeas Corpus in a case of agrarian crime stimulated by a\npublic society, and the rather serious difficulty of obtaining it; but\nmore important than these is the grave doubt whether it would really reach\nthe great characteristic evil of the time, namely, the paralysis of most\nimportant civil and proprietary rights, and whether the immediate proposal\nof a remedy, probably ineffective and even in a coercive sense partial,\nwould not seriously damage the prospects of that arduous and comprehensive\ntask which without doubt we must undertake when parliament is summoned.\"\nIn view of considerations of this kind, the awkwardness of directing an\nAct of parliament virtually against leaders who were at the moment the\nobject of indictment in the Irish law courts; difficulties of time; doubts\nas to the case being really made out; doubts as to the efficacy of the\nproposed remedy, Mr. Forster did not carry the cabinet, but agreed to\ncontinue the experiment of the ordinary law. The experiment was no\nsuccess, and coercion accompanied by land reform became the urgent policy.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe opening of the session of 1881 at once brought obstruction into full\nview. The Irish took up their position as a party of action. They spoke\nincessantly; as Mr. Gladstone put it, \"sometimes rising to the level of\nmediocrity, and more often grovelling amidst mere trash in unbounded\nprofusion.\" Obstruction is obstruction all the world over. It was not\nquite new at Westminster, but it was new on this scale. Closure proposals\nsprang up like mushrooms. Liberal members with a historical bent ran\nprivately to the Speaker with ancient precedents of dictatorial powers\nasserted by his official ancestors, and they exhorted him to revive them.\n\nMr. Forster brought in his bill. Its scope may be described in a sentence.\nIt practically enabled the viceroy to lock up anybody he pleased, and to\ndetain him as long as he pleased, while the Act remained in force.(38) The\ndebate for leave to introduce the bill lasted several days, without any\nsign of coming to an end. Here is the Speaker's account of his own\nmemorable act in forcing a close:--\n\n\n _Monday, Jan. 31._--The House was boiling over with indignation at\n the apparent triumph of obstruction, and Mr. _G_., yielding to the\n pressure of his friends, committed himself unwisely, as I thought,\n to a continuous sitting on this day in order to force the bill\n through its first stage.\n\n On Tuesday, after a sitting of twenty-four hours, I saw plainly\n that this attempt to carry the bill by continuous sitting would\n fail, the Parnell party being strong in numbers, discipline, and\n organisation, and with great gifts of speech. I reflected on the\n situation, and came to the conclusion that it was my duty to\n extricate the House from the difficulty by closing the debate of\n my own authority, and so asserting the undoubted will of the House\n against a rebellious minority. I sent for Mr. G. on Tuesday (Feb.\n 1), about noon, and told him that I should be prepared to put the\n question in spite of obstruction on the following conditions: 1.\n That the debate should be carried on until the following morning,\n my object in this delay being to mark distinctly to the outside\n world the extreme gravity of the situation, and the necessity of\n the step which I was about to take. 2. That he should reconsider\n the regulation of business, either by giving more authority to the\n House, or by conferring authority on the Speaker.\n\n He agreed to these conditions, and summoned a meeting of the\n cabinet, which assembled in my library at four P.M. on Tuesday\n while the House was sitting, and I was in the chair. At that\n meeting the resolution as to business assumed the shape in which\n it finally appeared on the following Thursday, it having been\n previously considered at former meetings of the cabinet. I\n arranged with Playfair to take the chair on Tuesday night about\n midnight, engaging to resume it on Wednesday morning at nine.\n Accordingly at nine I took the chair, Biggar being in possession\n of the House. I rose, and he resumed his seat. I proceeded with my\n address as concerted with May, and when I had concluded I put the\n question. The scene was most dramatic; but all passed off without\n disturbance, the Irish party on the second division retiring under\n protest.\n\n I had communicated, with Mr. G.'s approval, my intention to close\n the debate to Northcote, but to no one else, except May, from whom\n I received much assistance. Northcote was startled, but expressed\n no disapproval of the course proposed.\n\n\nSo ended the memorable sitting of January 31. At noon, on February 2, the\nHouse assembled in much excitement. The question was put challenging the\nSpeaker's conduct. \"I answered,\" he says, \"on the spur of the moment that\nI had acted on my own responsibility, and from a sense of duty to the\nHouse. I never heard such loud and protracted cheering, none cheering more\nloudly than Gladstone.\" \"The Speaker's firmness in mind,\" Mr. Gladstone\nreported to the Queen, \"his suavity in manner, his unwearied patience, his\nincomparable temper, under a thousand provocations, have rendered possible\na really important result.\"\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nAfter coercion came a land bill, and here Mr. Gladstone once more\ndisplayed his unequalled mastery of legislative skill and power. He had to\nexplain and be ready to explain again and again, what he told Lord\nSelborne was \"the most difficult measure he had ever known to come under\nthe detailed consideration of a cabinet.\" It was no affair this time of\nspeeches out of a railway carriage, or addressed to excited multitudes in\nvast halls. That might be, if you so pleased, \"the empty verbosity of\nexuberant rhetoric\"; but nobody could say that of the contest over the\ncomplexities of Irish tenure, against the clever and indomitable Irish\nexperts who fought under the banner of Mr. Parnell. Northcote was not far\nwrong when he said that though the bill was carried by two to one, there\nwas hardly a man in the House beyond the Irish ranks who cared a straw\nabout it. Another critic said that if the prime minister had asked the\nHouse to pass the _Koran_ or the _Nautical Almanac_ as a land bill, he\nwould have met no difficulty.\n\nThe history of the session was described as the carriage of a single\nmeasure by a single man. Few British members understood it, none mastered\nit. The whigs were disaffected about it, the radicals doubted it, the\ntories thought that property as a principle was ruined by it, the\nIrishmen, when the humour seized them, bade him send the bill to line\ntrunks. Mr. Gladstone, as one observer truly says, \"faced difficulties\nsuch as no other bill of this country has ever encountered, difficulties\nof politics and difficulties of law, difficulties of principle and\ndifficulties of detail, difficulties of party and difficulties of\npersonnel, difficulties of race and difficulties of class, and he has\nnever once failed, or even seemed to fail, in his clear command of the\nquestion, in his dignity and authority of demeanour, in his impartiality\nin accepting amending suggestions, in his firmness in resisting\ndestructive suggestions, in his clear perception of his aim, and his\nstrong grasp of the fitting means. And yet it is hardly possible to\nappreciate adequately the embarrassments of the situation.\"\n\nEnough has already been said of the legislation of 1870, and its\nestablishment of the principle that Irish land is not the subject of an\nundivided ownership, but a partnership.(39) The act of 1870 failed because\nit had too many exceptions and limitations; because in administration the\ncompensation to the tenant for disturbance was inadequate; and because it\ndid not fix the cultivator in his holding. Things had now ripened. The\nRichmond Commission shortly before had pointed to a court for fixing\nrents; that is, for settling the terms of the partnership. A commission\nnominated by Mr. Gladstone and presided over by Lord Bessborough had\nreported early in 1881 in favour not only of fair rents to be settled by a\ntribunal, but of fixity of tenure or the right of (M23) the tenant to\nremain in his holding if he paid his rent, and of free sale; that is, his\nright to part with his interest. These \"three F's\" were the substance of\nthe legislation of 1881.\n\nRents could not be paid, and landlords either would not or could not\nreduce them. In the deepest interests of social order, and in confirmation\nof the tenant's equitable and customary ownership, the only course open to\nthe imperial legislature was to erect machinery for fixing fair rents. The\nalternative to what became matter of much objurgation as dual ownership,\nwas a single ownership that was only a short name for allowing the\nlandlord to deal as he liked with the equitable interest of the tenant.\nWithout the machinery set up by Mr. Gladstone, there could be no security\nfor the protection of the cultivator's interest. What is more, even in\nview of a wide and general extension of the policy of buying out the\nlandlord and turning the tenant into single owner, still a process of\nvaluation for purposes of fair price would have been just as\nindispensable, as under the existing system was the tiresome and costly\nprocess of valuation for purposes of fair rent. It is true that if the\npolicy of purchase had been adopted, this process would have been\nperformed once for all. But opinion was not nearly ready either in England\nor Ireland for general purchase. And as Mr. Gladstone had put it to Bright\nin 1870, to turn a little handful of occupiers into owners would not have\ntouched the fringe of the case of the bulk of the Irish cultivators, then\nundergoing acute mischief and urgently crying for prompt relief. Mr.\nBright's idea of purchase, moreover, assumed that the buyer would come\nwith at least a quarter of the price in his hand,--an assumption not\nconsistent with the practical possibilities of the case.\n\nThe legislation of 1881 no doubt encountered angry criticism from the\nEnglish conservative, and little more than frigid approval from the Irish\nnationalist. It offended the fundamental principle of the landlords; its\nadministration and the construction of some of its leading provisions by\nthe courts disappointed and irritated the tenant party. Nevertheless any\nattempt in later times to impair the authority of the Land Act of 1881\nbrought the fact instantly to light, that the tenant knew it to be the\nfundamental charter of his redemption from worse than Egyptian bondage. In\nmeasuring this great agrarian law, not only by parliamentary force and\nlegislative skill and power, but by the vast and abiding depth of its\nsocial results, both direct and still more indirect, many will be disposed\nto give it the highest place among Mr. Gladstone's achievements as\nlawmaker.\n\nFault has sometimes been found with Mr. Gladstone for not introducing his\nbill in the session of 1880. If this had been done, it is argued, Ireland\nwould have been appeased, no coercion would have been necessary, and we\nshould have been spared disastrous parliamentary exasperations and all the\nother mischiefs and perils of the quarrel between England and Ireland that\nfollowed. Criticism of this kind overlooks three facts. Neither Mr.\nGladstone nor Forster nor the new House of Commons was at all ready in\n1880 to accept the Three F's. Second, the Bessborough commission had not\ntaken its evidence, and made its momentous report. Third, this argument\nassumes motives in Mr. Parnell, that probably do not at all cover the\nwhole ground of his policy. As it happened, I called on Mr. Gladstone one\nmorning early in 1881. \"You have heard,\" I asked, \"that the Bessborough\ncommission are to report for the Three F's?\" \"I have not heard,\" he said;\n\"it is incredible!\" As so often comes to pass in politics, it was only a\nstep from the incredible to the indispensable. But in 1880 the\nindispensable was also the impossible. It was the cruel winter of 1880-1\nthat made much difference.\n\nIn point of endurance the session was one of the most remarkable on\nrecord. The House of Commons sat 154 days and for 1400 hours; some 240 of\nthese hours were after midnight. Only three times since the Reform bill\nhad the House sat for more days; only once, in 1847, had the total number\nof hours been exceeded and that only by seven, and never before had the\nHouse sat so many hours after midnight. On the Coercion bill the House sat\ncontinuously once for 22 hours, and once for 41. The debates on the Land\nbill took up 58 sittings, and the Coercion bill 22. No such length of\ndiscussion, Mr. Gladstone told the Queen, (M24) was recorded on any\nmeasure since the committee on the first Reform bill. The Reform bill of\n1867 was the only measure since 1843 that took as many as 35 days of\ndebate. The Irish Church bill took 21 days and the Land bill of 1870 took\n25. Of the 14,836 speeches delivered, 6315 were made by Irish members. The\nSpeaker and chairman of committees interposed on points of order nearly\n2000 times during the session. Mr. Parnell, the Speaker notes, \"with his\nminority of 24 dominates the House. When will the House take courage and\nreform its procedure?\" After all, the suspension of _habeas corpus_ is a\nthing that men may well think it worth while to fight about, and a\nrevolution in a country's land-system might be expected to take up a good\ndeal of time.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nIt soon appeared that no miracle had been wrought by either Coercion Act\nor Land Act. Mr. Parnell drew up test cases for submission to the new land\ncourt. His advice to the army of tenants would depend, he said, on the\nfate of these cases. In September Mr. Forster visited Hawarden, and gave a\nbad account of the real meaning of Mr. Parnell's plausible propositions\nfor sending test cases to the newly established land commission, as well\nas of other ugly circumstances. \"It is quite clear as you said,\" wrote Mr.\nGladstone to Forster in Ireland, \"that Parnell means to present cases\nwhich the commission must refuse, and then to treat their refusal as\nshowing that they cannot be trusted, and that the bill has failed.\" As he\ninterpreted it afterwards, there was no doubt that in one sense the Land\nAct tended to accelerate a crisis in Ireland, for it brought to a head the\naffairs of the party connected with the land league. It made it almost a\nnecessity for that party either to advance or to recede. They chose the\ndesperate course. At the same date, he wrote in a letter to Lord\nGranville:--\n\n\n With respect to Parnellism, I should not propose to do more than a\n severe and strong denunciation of it by severing him altogether\n from the Irish people and the mass of the Irish members, and by\n saying that home rule has for one of its aims local government--an\n excellent thing to which I would affix no limits except the\n supremacy of the imperial parliament, and the rights of all parts\n of the country to claim whatever might be accorded to Ireland.\n This is only a repetition of what I have often said before, and I\n have nothing to add or enlarge. But I have the fear that when the\n occasion for action comes, which will not be in my time, many\n liberals may perhaps hang back and may cause further trouble.\n\n\nIn view of what was to come four years later, one of his letters to\nForster is interesting (April 12, 1882), among other reasons as\nillustrating the depth to which the essence of political liberalism had\nnow penetrated Mr. Gladstone's mind:--\n\n\n 1. About local government for Ireland, the ideas which more and\n more establish themselves in my mind are such as these.\n\n (1.) Until we have seriously responsible bodies to deal with us in\n Ireland, every plan we frame comes to Irishmen, say what we may,\n as an English plan. As such it is probably condemned. At best it\n is a one-sided bargain, which binds us, not them.\n\n (2.) If your excellent plans for obtaining local aid towards the\n execution of the law break down, it will be on account of this\n miserable and almost total want of the sense of responsibility for\n the public good and public peace in Ireland; and this\n responsibility we cannot create except through local\n self-government.\n\n (3.) If we say we must postpone the question till the state of the\n country is more fit for it, I should answer that the least danger\n is in going forward at once. It is liberty alone which fits men\n for liberty. This proposition, like every other in politics, has\n its bounds; but it is far safer than the counter doctrine, wait\n till they are fit.\n\n (4.) In truth I should say (differing perhaps from many), that for\n the Ireland of to-day, the first question is the rectification of\n the relations between landlord and tenant, which happily is going\n on; the next is to relieve Great Britain from the enormous weight\n of the government of Ireland unaided by the people, and from the\n hopeless contradiction in which we stand while we give a\n parliamentary representation, hardly effective for anything but\n mischief without the local institutions of self-government which\n it presupposes, and on which alone it can have a sound and healthy\n basis.\n\n\nWe have before us in administration, he wrote to Forster in September--\n\n\n a problem not less delicate and arduous than the problem of\n legislation with which we have lately had to deal in parliament.\n Of the leaders, the officials, the skeleton of the land league I\n have no hope whatever. The better the prospects of the Land Act\n with their adherents outside the circle of wire-pullers, and with\n the Irish people, the more bitter will be their hatred, and the\n more sure they will be to go as far as fear of the people will\n allow them in keeping up the agitation, which they cannot afford\n to part with on account of their ulterior ends. All we can do is\n to turn more and more the masses of their followers, to fine them\n down by good laws and good government, and it is in this view that\n the question of judicious releases from prison, should improving\n statistics of crime encourage it, may become one of early\n importance.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nIt was in the autumn of 1881 that Mr. Gladstone visited Leeds, in payment\nof the debt of gratitude due for his triumphant return in the general\nelection of the year before. This progress extended over four days, and\nalmost surpassed in magnitude and fervour any of his experiences in other\nparts of the kingdom. We have an interesting glimpse of the physical\neffort of such experiences in a couple of his letters written to Mr.\nKitson, who with immense labour and spirit had organized this severe if\nglorious enterprise:--\n\n\n _Hawarden Castle, Sept. 28, 1881._--I thank you for the very clear\n and careful account of the proposed proceedings at Leeds. It lacks\n as yet that _rough_ statement of numbers at each meeting, which is\n requisite to enable me to understand what I shall have to do. This\n will be fixed by the scale of the meeting. I see no difficulty but\n one--a procession through the principal thoroughfares is one of the\n most exhausting processes I know as a _preliminary_ to addressing\n a mass meeting. A mass meeting requires the physical powers to be\n in their best and freshest state, as far as anything can be fresh\n in a man near seventy-two; and I have on one or more former\n occasions felt them wofully contracted. In Midlothian I never had\n anything of the kind before a great physical effort in speaking;\n and the lapse even of a couple of years is something. It would\n certainly be most desirable to have the mass meeting first, and\n then I have not any fear at all of the procession through whatever\n thoroughfares you think fit.\n\n _Oct. 2, 1881._--I should be very sorry to put aside any of the\n opportunities of vision at Leeds which the public may care to use;\n but what I had hoped was that these might come _after_ any\n speeches of considerable effort and not _before_ them. To\n understand what a physical drain, and what a reaction from tension\n of the senses is caused by a \"progress\" before addressing a great\n audience, a person must probably have gone through it, and gone\n through it at my time of life. When I went to Midlothian, I begged\n that this might never happen; and it was avoided throughout. Since\n that time I have myself been sensible for the first time of a\n diminished power of voice in the House of Commons, and others also\n for the first time have remarked it.\n\n\nVast torchlight processions, addresses from the corporation, four score\naddresses from political bodies, a giant banquet in the Cloth Hall Yard\ncovered in for the purpose, on one day; on another, more addresses, a\npublic luncheon followed by a mass meeting of over five-and-twenty\nthousand persons, then a long journey through dense throngs vociferous\nwith an exultation that knew no limits, a large dinner party, and at the\nend of all a night train. The only concessions that the veteran asked to\nweakness of the flesh, were that at the banquet he should not appear until\nthe eating and drinking were over, and that at the mass meeting some\npreliminary speakers should intervene to give him time to take breath\nafter his long and serious exercises of the morning. When the time came\nhis voice was heard like the note of a clear and deep-toned bell. So much\nhad vital energy, hardly less rare than his mental power, to do with the\nvaried exploits of this spacious career.\n\nThe topics of his Leeds speeches I need not travel over. (M25) What\nattracted most attention and perhaps drew most applause was his warning to\nMr. Parnell. \"He desires,\" said the minister, \"to arrest the operation of\nthe Land Act; to stand as Moses stood between the living and the dead; to\nstand there not as Moses stood, to arrest, but to spread the plague.\" The\nmenace that followed became a catchword of the day: \"If it shall appear\nthat there is still to be fought a final conflict in Ireland between law\non the one side and sheer lawlessness upon the other, if the law purged\nfrom defect and from any taint of injustice is still to be repelled and\nrefused, and the first conditions of political society to remain\nunfulfilled, then I say, gentlemen, without hesitation, the resources of\ncivilisation against its enemies are not yet exhausted.\"(40)\n\nNor was the pageant all excitement. The long speech, which by way of\nprelusion to the great mass meeting he addressed to the chamber of\ncommerce, was devoted to the destruction of the economic sophisters who\ntried to persuade us that \"the vampire of free-trade was insidiously\nsucking the life-blood of the country.\" In large survey of broad social\nfacts, exposition of diligently assorted figures, power of scientific\nanalysis, sustained chain of reasoning, he was never better. The\nconsummate mastery of this argumentative performance did not slay a heresy\nthat has nine lives, but it drove the thing out of sight in Yorkshire for\nsome time to come.(41)\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nOn Wednesday October 12, the cabinet met, and after five hours of\ndeliberation decided that Mr. Parnell should be sent to prison under the\nCoercion Act. The Irish leader was arrested at his hotel the next morning,\nand carried off to Kilmainham, where he remained for some six months. The\nsame day Mr. Gladstone was presented with an address from the Common\nCouncil of London, and in his speech at the Guildhall gave them the news:--\n\n\n Our determination has been that to the best of our power, our\n words should be carried into acts [referring to what he had said\n at Leeds], and even within these few moments I have been informed\n that towards the vindication of law and order, of the rights of\n property, of the freedom of the land, of the first elements of\n political life and civilisation, the first step has been taken in\n the arrest of the man who unhappily from motives which I do not\n challenge, which I cannot examine and with which I have nothing to\n do, has made himself beyond all others prominent in the attempt to\n destroy the authority of the law, and to substitute what would end\n in being nothing more or less than anarchical oppression exercised\n upon the people of Ireland.\n\n\nThe arrest of Mr. Parnell was no doubt a pretty considerable strain upon\npowers conferred by parliament to put down village ruffians; but times\nwere revolutionary, and though the Act of parliament was not a wise one,\nbut altogether the reverse of wise, it was no wonder that having got the\ninstrument, ministers thought they might as well use it. Still executive\nviolence did not seem to work, and Mr. Gladstone looked in a natural\ndirection for help in the milder way of persuasion. He wrote (December\n17th) to Cardinal Newman:--\n\n\n I will begin with defining strictly the limits of this appeal. I\n ask you to read the inclosed papers; and to consider whether you\n will write anything to Rome upon them. I do not ask you to write,\n nor to tell me whether you write, nor to make any reply to this\n letter, beyond returning the inclosures in an envelope to me in\n Downing Street. I will state briefly the grounds of my request,\n thus limited. In 1844, when I was young as a cabinet minister, and\n the government of Sir R. Peel was troubled with the O'Connell\n manifestations, they made what I think was an appeal to Pope\n Gregory XVI. for his intervention to discourage agitation in\n Ireland. I should be very loath now to tender such a request at\n Rome. But now a different case arises. Some members of the Roman\n catholic priesthood in Ireland deliver certain sermons and\n otherwise express themselves in the way which my inclosures\n exhibit. I doubt whether if they were laymen we should not have\n settled their cases by putting them into gaol. I need not describe\n the sentiments uttered. Your eminence will feel them and judge\n them as strongly as I do. But now as to the Supreme Pontiff. You\n will hardly be surprised when I say that I regard him, if apprised\n of the facts, as responsible for the conduct of these priests. For\n I know perfectly well that he has the means of silencing them; and\n that, if any one of them were in public to dispute the decrees of\n the council of 1870 as plainly as he has denounced law and order,\n he would be silenced.\n\n Mr. Errington, who is at Rome, will I believe have seen these\n papers, and will I hope have brought the facts as far as he is\n able to the knowledge of his holiness. But I do not know how far\n he is able; nor how he may use his discretion. He is not our\n official servant, but an independent Roman catholic gentleman and\n a volunteer.\n\n My wish is as regards Ireland, in this hour of her peril and her\n hope, to leave nothing undone by which to give heart and strength\n to the hope and to abate the peril. But my wish as regards the\n Pope is that he should have the means of bringing those for whom\n he is responsible to fulfil the elementary duties of citizenship.\n I say of citizenship; of Christianity, of priesthood, it is not\n for me to speak.\n\n\nThe cardinal replied that he would gladly find himself able to be of\nservice, however slight it might be, in a political crisis which must be\nfelt as of grave anxiety by all who understand the blessing of national\nunity and peace. He thought Mr. Gladstone overrated the pope's power in\npolitical and social matters. Absolute in questions of theology, it was\nnot so in political matters. If the contest in Ireland were whether\n\"rebellion\" or whether \"robbery\" was a sin, we might expect him to\nanathematise its denial. But his action in concrete matters, as whether a\npolitical party is censurable or not, was not direct, and only in the long\nrun effective. Local power and influence was often a match for Roman\nright. The pope's right keeps things together, it checks extravagances,\nand at length prevails, but not without a fight. Its exercise is a matter\nof great prudence, and depends upon times and circumstances. As for the\nintemperate dangerous words of priests and curates, surely such persons\nbelonged to their respective bishops, and scarcely required the\nintroduction of the Supreme Authority.\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nWe have now arrived at April 1882. The reports brought to the cabinet by\nMr. Forster were of the gloomiest. The Land Act had brought no\nimprovement. In the south-west and many of the midland counties\nlawlessness and intimidation were worse than ever. Returns of agrarian\ncrime were presented in every shape, and comparisons framed by weeks, by\nmonths, by quarters; do what the statisticians would, and in spite of\nfluctuations, murders and other serious outrages had increased. The policy\nof arbitrary arrest had completely failed, and the officials and crown\nlawyers at the Castle were at their wits' end.\n\nWhile the cabinet was face to face with this ugly prospect, Mr. Gladstone\nreceived a communication volunteered by an Irish member, as to the new\nattitude of Mr. Parnell and the possibility of turning it to good account.\nMr. Gladstone sent this letter on to Forster, replying meanwhile \"in the\nsense of not shutting the door.\" When the thing came before the cabinet,\nMr. Chamberlain--who had previously told Mr. Gladstone that he thought the\ntime opportune for something like a reconciliation with the Irish\nparty--with characteristic courage took his life in his hands, as he put\nit, and set to work to ascertain through the emissary what use for the\npublic good could be made of Mr. Parnell's changed frame of mind. On April\n25th, the cabinet heard what Mr. Chamberlain had to tell them, and it came\nto this, that Mr. Parnell was desirous to use his influence on behalf of\npeace, but his influence for good depended on the settlement of the\nquestion of arrears. Ministers decided that they could enter into no\nagreement and would give no pledge. They would act on their own\nresponsibility in the light of the knowledge they had gained of Mr.\nParnell's views. Mr. Gladstone was always impatient of any reference to\n\"reciprocal assurances\" or \"tacit understanding\" in respect of the\ndealings with the prisoner in Kilmainham. Still the nature of the\nproceedings was plain enough. The object of the communications to which\nthe government were invited by Mr. Parnell through his emissary, was,\nsupposing him to be anxious to do what (M26) he could for law and order,\nto find out what action on the part of the government would enable him to\nadopt this line.\n\nEvents then moved rapidly. Rumours that something was going on got abroad,\nand questions began to be put in parliament. A stout tory gave notice of a\nmotion aiming at the release of the suspects. As Mr. Gladstone informed\nthe Queen, there was no doubt that the general opinion of the public was\nmoving in a direction adverse to arbitrary imprisonment, though the\nquestion was a nice one for consideration whether the recent surrender by\nthe no-rent party of its extreme and most subversive contentions, amounted\nto anything like a guarantee for their future conduct in respect of peace\nand order. The rising excitement was swelled by the retirement of Lord\nCowper from the viceroyalty, and the appointment as his successor of Lord\nSpencer, who had filled that post in Mr. Gladstone's first government. On\nMay 2nd, Mr. Gladstone read a memorandum to the cabinet to which they\nagreed:--\n\n\n The cabinet are of opinion that the time has now arrived when with\n a view to the interests of law and order in Ireland, the three\n members of parliament who have been imprisoned on suspicion since\n last October, should be immediately released; and that the list of\n suspects should be examined with a view to the release of all\n persons not believed to be associated with crimes. They propose at\n once to announce to parliament their intention to propose, as soon\n as necessary business will permit, a bill to strengthen the\n ordinary law in Ireland for the security of life and property,\n while reserving their discretion with regard to the Life and\n Property Protection Act [of 1881], which however they do not at\n present think it will be possible to renew, if a favourable state\n of affairs shall prevail in Ireland.\n\n\nFrom this proceeding Mr. Forster dissented, and he resigned his office.\nHis point seems to have been that no suspect should be released until the\nnew Coercion Act had been fashioned, whereas the rest of the cabinet held\nthat there was no excuse for the continued detention under arbitrary\nwarrant of men as to whom the ground for the \"reasonable suspicion\"\nrequired by the law had now disappeared. He probably felt that the\nappointment of a viceroy of cabinet rank and with successful Irish\nexperience was in fact his own supersession. \"I have received your\nletter,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote to him (May 2), \"with much grief, but on this\nit would be selfish to expatiate. I have no choice; followed or not\nfollowed I must go on. There are portions of the subject which touch you\npersonally, and which seem to me to deserve _much_ attention. But I have\nsuch an interest in the main issue, that I could not be deemed impartial;\nso I had better not enter on them. One thing, however, I wish to say. You\nwish to minimise in any further statement the cause of your retreat. In my\nopinion--_and I speak from experience_--viewing the nature of that course,\nyou will find this hardly possible. For a justification you, I fear, will\nhave to found upon the doctrine of 'a new departure.' We must protest\nagainst it, and deny it with heart and soul.\"\n\nThe way in which Mr. Gladstone chose to put things was stated in a letter\nto the Queen (May 3): \"In his judgment there had been two, and only two,\nvital powers of commanding efficacy in Ireland, the Land Act, and the land\nleague; they had been locked in a combat of life and death; and the\ncardinal question was which of the two would win. From the serious effort\nto amend the Land Act by the Arrears bill of the nationalists,(42) from\nthe speeches made in support of it, and from information voluntarily\ntendered to the government as to the views of the leaders of the league,\nthe cabinet believed that those who governed the land league were now\nconscious of having been defeated by the Land Act on the main question,\nthat of paying rent.\"\n\nFor the office of Irish secretary Mr. Gladstone selected Lord Frederick\nCavendish, who was the husband of a niece of Mrs. Gladstone's, and one of\nthe most devoted of his friends and adherents. The special reason for the\nchoice of this capable and high-minded man, was that Lord Frederick had\nframed a plan of finance at the treasury for a new scheme of land\npurchase. The two freshly appointed Irish ministers at once crossed over\nto a country seething in disorder. The (M27) afternoon of the fatal sixth\nof May was passed by the new viceroy and Lord Frederick in that grim\napartment in Dublin Castle, where successive secretaries spend unshining\nhours in saying No to impossible demands, and hunting for plausible\nanswers to insoluble riddles. Never did so dreadful a shadow overhang it\nas on that day. The task on which the two ministers were engaged was the\nconsideration of the new provisions for coping with disorder, which had\nbeen prepared in London. The under-secretary, Mr. Burke, and one of the\nlawyers, were present. Lord Spencer rode out to the park about five\no'clock, and Lord Frederick followed him an hour later. He was overtaken\nby the under-secretary walking homewards, and as the two strolled on\ntogether, they were both brutally murdered in front of the vice-regal\nresidence. The assassins did not know who Lord Frederick was. Well has it\nbeen said that Ireland seems the sport of a destiny that is aimless.(43)\n\nThe official world of London was on that Saturday night in the full round\nof its pleasures. The Gladstones were dining at the Austrian embassy. So,\ntoo, was Sir William Harcourt, and to him as home secretary the black\ntidings were sent from Dublin late in the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone\nhad already left, she for a party at the admiralty, he walking home to\nDowning Street. At the admiralty they told her of bad news from Ireland\nand hurried her away. Mr. Gladstone arrived at home a few minutes after\nher. When his secretary in the hall told him of the horrible thing that\nhad been done, it was as if he had been felled to the ground. Then they\nhastened to bear what solace they could, to the anguish-stricken home\nwhere solace would be so sorely needed.\n\nThe effect of this blind and hideous crime was at once to arrest the\nspirit and the policy of conciliation. While the Irish leaders were locked\nup, a secret murder club had taken matters in hand in their own way, and\nripened plots within a stone's throw of the Castle. No worse blow could\nhave been struck at Mr. Parnell's policy. It has been said that the\nnineteenth century had seen the course of its history twenty-five times\ndiverted by actual or attempted crime. In that sinister list the murders\nin the Phoenix Park have a tragic place.\n\nThe voice of party was for the moment hushed. Sir Stafford Northcote wrote\na letter of admirable feeling, saying that if there was any way in which\nMr. Gladstone thought they could serve the government, he would of course\nlet them know. The Prince of Wales wrote of his own horror and indignation\nat the crime, and of his sympathy with Mr. Gladstone in the loss of one\nwho was not only a colleague of many merits, but a near connection and\ndevoted friend. With one or two scandalous exceptions, the tone of the\nEnglish press was sober, sensible, and self-possessed. \"If a nation,\" said\na leading journal in Paris, \"should be judged by the way in which it acts\non grave occasions, the spectacle offered by England is calculated to\nproduce a high opinion of the political character and spirit of the\nBritish people.\" Things of the baser sort were not quite absent, but they\ndid not matter. An appeal confronted the electors of the North-West Riding\nas they went to the poll at a bye-election a few days later, to \"Vote for\n----, and avenge the death of Lord Frederick Cavendish!\" They responded by\nplacing ----'s opponent at the head of the poll by a majority of two\nthousand.\n\nThe scene in the House had all the air of tragedy, and Mr. Gladstone\nsummoned courage enough to do his part with impressive composure. A\ncolleague was doing some business with him in his room before the\nsolemnity began. When it was over, they resumed it, Mr. Gladstone making\nno word of reference to the sombre interlude, before or after. \"Went\nreluctantly to the House,\" he says in his diary, \"and by the help of God\nforced out what was needful on the question of the adjournment.\" His words\nwere not many, when after commemorating the marked qualities of Mr. Burke,\nhe went on in laboured tones and slow speech and hardly repressed\nemotion:--\n\n\n The hand of the assassin has come nearer home; and though I feel\n it difficult to say a word, yet I must say that one of the very\n noblest hearts in England has ceased to beat, and has ceased at\n the very moment when it was just devoted to the service of\n Ireland, full of love for that country, full of hope for her\n future, full of capacity to render her service.\n\n\nWriting to Lady Frederick on a later day, he mentions a public reference\nto some pathetic words of hers (May 19):--\n\n\n Sexton just now returned to the subject, with much approval from\n the House. You will find it near the middle of a long speech.\n Nothing could be better either in feeling or in grace (the man is\n little short of a master), and I think it will warm your heart.\n You have made a mark deeper than any wound.\n\n\nTo Lord Ripon in India, he wrote (June 1):--\n\n\n The black act brought indeed a great personal grief to my wife and\n me; but we are bound to merge our own sorrow in the larger and\n deeper affliction of the widow and the father, in the sense of the\n public loss of a life so valuable to the nation, and in the\n consideration of the great and varied effects it may have on\n immediate and vital interests. Since the death of this dearly\n loved son, we have heard much good of the Duke, whom indeed we saw\n at Chatsworth after the funeral, and we have seen much of Lady\n Frederick, who has been good even beyond what we could have hoped.\n I have no doubt you have heard in India the echo of words spoken\n by Spencer from a letter of hers, in which she said she could give\n up even him if his death were to work good to his fellow-men,\n which indeed was the whole object of his life. These words have\n had a tender effect, as remarkable as the horror excited by the\n slaughter. Spencer wrote to me that a priest in Connemara read\n them from the altar; when the whole congregation spontaneously\n fell down upon their knees. In England, the national attitude has\n been admirable. The general strain of language has been, \"Do not\n let this terrible and flagitious crime deter you from persevering\n with the work of justice.\"\n\n\nWell did Dean Church say that no Roman or Florentine lady ever uttered a\nmore heroic thing than was said by this English lady when on first seeing\nMr. Gladstone that terrible midnight she said, \"You did right to send him\nto Ireland.\"(44) \"The loss of F. Cavendish,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote to his\neldest son, \"will ever be to us all as an unhealed wound.\"\n\nOn the day after the murders Mr. Gladstone received a note through the\nsame channel by which Mr. Chamberlain had carried on his communications:\n\"I am authorised by Mr. Parnell to state that if Mr. Gladstone considers\nit necessary for the maintenance of his [Mr. G.'s] position and for\ncarrying out his views, that Mr. Parnell should resign his seat, Mr.\nParnell is prepared to do so immediately.\" To this Mr. Gladstone replied\n(May 7):--\n\n\n My duty does not permit me for a moment to entertain Mr. Parnell's\n proposal, just conveyed to me by you, that he should if I think it\n needful resign his seat; but I am deeply sensible of the\n honourable motives by which it has been prompted.\n\n\n\"My opinion is,\" said Mr. Gladstone to Lord Granville, \"that if Parnell\ngoes, no restraining influence will remain; the scale of outrages will be\nagain enlarged; and no repressive bill can avail to put it down.\" Those of\nthe cabinet who had the best chance of knowing, were convinced that Mr.\nParnell was \"sincerely anxious for the pacification of Ireland.\"\n\nThe reaction produced by the murders in the Park made perseverance in a\nmilder policy impossible in face of English opinion, and parliament\neagerly passed the Coercion Act of 1882. I once asked an Irishman of\nconsummate experience and equitable mind, with no leanings that I know of\nto political nationalism, whether the task of any later ruler of Ireland\nwas comparable to Lord Spencer's. \"Assuredly not,\" he replied: \"in 1882\nIreland seemed to be literally a society on the eve of dissolution. The\nInvincibles still roved with knives about the streets of Dublin.\nDiscontent had been stirred in the ranks of the Royal Irish Constabulary,\nand a dangerous mutiny broke out in the metropolitan force. Over half of\nthe country the demoralisation of every class, the terror, the fierce\nhatred, the universal distrust, had grown to an incredible pitch. The\nmoral cowardice of what ought to have been the governing class was\nastounding. The landlords would hold meetings and agree not to go beyond a\ncertain abatement, and then they would go individually and privately offer\nto the tenant a greater abatement. Even the agents of the law and the\ncourts were shaken in their duty. The power of random arrest and detention\nunder the Coercion Act of 1881 had not improved the _moral_ of magistrates\nand police. The sheriff would let the word get out that he was coming to\nmake a seizure, and profess surprise that the cattle had vanished. The\nwhole country-side turned out in thousands in half the counties in Ireland\nto attend flaming meetings, and if a man did not attend, angry neighbours\ntrooped up to know the reason why. The clergy hardly stirred a finger to\nrestrain the wildness of the storm; some did their best to raise it. All\nthat was what Lord Spencer had to deal with; the very foundations of the\nsocial fabric rocking.\"\n\nThe new viceroy attacked the formidable task before him with resolution,\nminute assiduity, and an inexhaustible store of that steady-eyed patience\nwhich is the sovereign requisite of any man who, whether with coercion or\nwithout, takes in hand the government of Ireland. He was seconded with\nhigh ability and courage by Mr. Trevelyan, the new Irish secretary, whose\nfortitude was subjected to a far severer trial than has ever fallen to the\nlot of any Irish secretary before or since. The coercion that Lord Spencer\nhad to administer was at least law. The coercion with which parliament\nentrusted Mr. Forster the year before was the negation of the spirit of\nlaw, and the substitution for it of naked and arbitrary control over the\nliberty of the subject by executive power--a system as unconstitutional in\ntheory as it was infatuated in policy and calamitous in result. Even\nbefore the end of the parliament, Mr. Bright frankly told the House of\nCommons of this Coercion Act: \"I think that the legislation of 1881 was\nunfortunately a great mistake, though I was myself a member of the\ngovernment concerned in it.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter V. Egypt. (1881-1882)\n\n\n I find many very ready to say what I ought to have done when a\n battle is over; but I wish some of these persons would come and\n tell me what to do before the battle.--WELLINGTON.\n\n\nIn 1877 Mr. Gladstone penned words to which later events gave an only too\nstriking verification. \"Territorial questions,\" he said, \"are not to be\ndisposed of by arbitrary limits; we cannot enjoy the luxury of taking\nEgyptian soil by pinches. We may seize an Aden and a Perim, where is no\nalready formed community of inhabitants, and circumscribe a tract at will.\nBut our first site in Egypt, be it by larceny or be it by emption, will be\nthe almost certain egg of a North African empire, that will grow and grow\nuntil another Victoria and another Albert, titles of the lake-sources of\nthe White Nile, come within our borders; and till we finally join hands\nacross the equator with Natal and Cape Town, to say nothing of the\nTransvaal and the Orange River on the south, or of Abyssinia or Zanzibar\nto be swallowed by way of viaticum on our journey.\"(45) It was one of the\nironies in which every active statesman's life abounds, that the author of\nthat forecast should have been fated to take his country over its first\nmarches towards this uncoveted destination.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nFor many months after Mr. Gladstone formed his second ministry, there was\nno reason to suppose that the Egyptian branch of the eastern question,\nwhich for ever casts its (M28) perplexing shadow over Europe, was likely\nto give trouble. The new Khedive held a regularly defined position, alike\ntowards his titular sovereign at Constantinople, towards reforming\nministers at Cairo, towards the creditors of his state, and towards the\ntwo strong European Powers who for different reasons had the supervision\nof Egyptian affairs in charge. The oppression common to oriental\ngovernments seemed to be yielding before western standards. The load of\ninterest on a profligate debt was heavy, but it was not unskilfully\nadjusted. The rate of village usury was falling, and the value of land was\nrising. Unluckily the Khedive and his ministers neglected the grievances\nof the army, and in January 1881 its leaders broke out in revolt. The\nKhedive, without an armed force on whose fidelity he could rely, gave way\nto the mutineers, and a situation was created, familiar enough in all\noriental states, and not unlike that in our own country between Charles\nI., or in later days the parliament, and the roundhead troopers: anger and\nrevenge in the breast of the affronted civil ruler, distrust and dread of\npunishment in the mind of the soldiery. During the autumn (1881) the\ncrisis grew more alarming. The Khedive showed neither energy nor tact; he\nneither calmed the terror of the mutineers nor crushed them.\nInsubordination in the army began to affect the civil population, and a\nnational party came into open existence in the chamber of notables. The\nsoldiers found a head in Arabi, a native Egyptian, sprung of fellah\norigin. Want either of stern resolution or of politic vision in the\nKhedive and his minister had transferred the reality of power to the\ninsurgents. The Sultan of Turkey here saw his chance; he made a series of\ndiplomatic endeavours to reestablish a shattered sovereignty over his\nnominal feudatory on the Nile. This pretension, and the spreading tide of\ndisorder, brought England and France actively upon the scene. We can see\nnow, what expert observers on the spot saw then, that the two Powers\nmistook the nature of the Arabist movement. They perceived in it no more\nthan a military rising. It was in truth national as well as military; it\nwas anti-European, and above all, it was in its objects anti-Turk.\n\nIn 1879 the two governments had insisted on imposing over Egypt two\ncontrollers, with limited functions but irremovable. This, as Mr.\nGladstone argued later, was to bring foreign intervention into the heart\nof the country, and to establish in the strictest sense a political\ncontrol.(46) As a matter of fact, not then well known, in September 1879\nLord Salisbury had come to a definite understanding with the French\nambassador in London, that the two governments would not tolerate the\nestablishment in Egypt of political influence by any competing European\nPower; and what was more important, that they were prepared to take action\nto any extent that might be found necessary to give effect to their views\nin this respect. The notable acquisition by Lord Beaconsfield of an\ninterest in the Suez Canal, always regarded by Mr. Gladstone as a\npolitically ill-advised and hazardous transaction, had tied the English\nknot in Egypt still tighter.\n\nThe policy of the Gladstone cabinet was defined in general words in a\ndespatch from the foreign minister to the British agent at Cairo. Lord\nGranville (November 1881) disclaimed any self-aggrandising designs on the\npart of either England or France. He proclaimed the desire of the cabinet\nto uphold in Egypt the administrative independence secured to her by the\ndecrees of the sovereign power on the Bosphorus. Finally he set forth that\nthe only circumstances likely to force the government of the Queen to\ndepart from this course of conduct, would be the occurrence in Egypt of a\nstate of anarchy.(47)\n\nJustly averse to a joint occupation of Egypt by England and France, as the\nmost perilous of all possible courses, the London cabinet looked to the\nSultan as the best instrument for restoring order. Here they were\nconfronted by two insurmountable obstacles: first, the steadfast hostility\nof France to any form of Turkish intervention, and second, that strong\ncurrent of antipathy to the Sultan which had been set flowing over British\nopinion in the days of Midlothian.(48)\n\n(M29) In December (1881) the puissant genius of Gambetta acquired\nsupremacy for a season, and he without delay pressed upon the British\ncabinet the necessity of preparing for joint and immediate action.\nGambetta prevailed. The Turk was ruled out, and the two Powers of the west\ndetermined on action of their own. The particular mode of common action,\nhowever, in case action should become necessary, was left entirely open.\n\nMeanwhile the British cabinet was induced to agree to Gambetta's proposal\nto send instructions to Cairo, assuring the Khedive that England and\nFrance were closely associated in the resolve to guard by their united\nefforts against all causes of complaint, internal or external, which might\nmenace the existing order of things in Egypt. This was a memorable\nstarting-point in what proved an amazing journey. This Joint Note (January\n6, 1881) was the first link in a chain of proceedings that brought each of\nthe two governments who were its authors, into the very position that they\nwere most strenuously bent on averting; France eventually ousted herself\nfrom Egypt, and England was eventually landed in plenary and permanent\noccupation. So extraordinary a result only shows how impenetrable were the\nwindings of the labyrinth. The foremost statesmen of England and France\nwere in their conning towers, and England at any rate employed some of the\nablest of her agents. Yet each was driven out of an appointed course to an\nunforeseen and an unwelcome termination. Circumstances like these might\nteach moderation both to the French partisans who curse the vacillations\nof M. de Freycinet, and to the English partisans who, while rejoicing in\nthe ultimate result, curse the vacillations of the cabinet of Mr.\nGladstone, in wisely striving to unravel a knot instead of at all risks\ncutting it.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe present writer described the effect of the Joint Note in the following\nwords written at the time(49): \"At Cairo the Note fell like a bombshell.\nNobody there had expected any such declaration, and nobody was aware of\nany reason why it should have been launched. What was felt was that so\nserious a step on such delicate ground could not have been adopted without\ndeliberate calculation, nor without some grave intention. The Note was,\ntherefore, taken to mean that the Sultan was to be thrust still further in\nthe background; that the Khedive was to become more plainly the puppet of\nEngland and France; and that Egypt would sooner or later in some shape or\nother be made to share the fate of Tunis. The general effect was,\ntherefore, mischievous in the highest degree. The Khedive was encouraged\nin his opposition to the sentiments of his Chamber. The military,\nnational, or popular party was alarmed. The Sultan was irritated. The\nother European Powers were made uneasy. Every element of disturbance was\nroused into activity.\"\n\nIt is true that even if no Joint Note had ever been despatched, the\nprospects of order were unpromising. The most careful analysis of the\nvarious elements of society in Egypt by those best acquainted at first\nhand with all those elements, whether internal or external, whether\nEgyptian or European, and with all the roots of antagonism thriving among\nthem, exhibited no promise of stability. If Egypt had been a simple case\nof an oriental government in revolutionary commotion, the ferment might\nhave been left to work itself out. Unfortunately Egypt, in spite of the\nmaps, lies in Europe. So far from being a simple case, it was\nindescribably entangled, and even the desperate questions that rise in our\nminds at the mention of the Balkan peninsula, of Armenia, of\nConstantinople, offer no such complex of difficulties as the Egyptian\nriddle in 1881-2. The law of liquidation(50)--whatever else we may think of\nit--at least made the policy of Egypt for the Egyptians unworkable. Yet the\nBritish cabinet were not wrong in thinking that this was no reason for\nsliding into the competing policy of Egypt for the English _and_ the\nFrench, which would have been more unworkable still.\n\nEngland strove manfully to hold the ground that she (M30) had taken in\nNovember. Lord Granville told the British ambassador in Paris that his\ngovernment disliked intervention either by themselves or anybody else as\nmuch as ever; that they looked upon the experiment of the Chamber with\nfavourable eyes; that they wished to keep the connection of the Porte with\nEgypt so far as it was compatible with Egyptian liberties; and that the\nobject of the Joint Note was to strengthen the existing government of\nEgypt. Gambetta, on the other hand, was convinced that all explanations of\nthis sort would only serve further to inflate the enemies of France and\nEngland in the Egyptian community, and would encourage their designs upon\nthe law of liquidation. Lord Granville was honourably and consistently\nanxious to confine himself within the letter of international right, while\nGambetta was equally anxious to intervene in Egyptian administration,\nwithin right or without it, and to force forward that Anglo-French\noccupation in which Lord Granville so justly saw nothing but danger and\nmischief. Once more Lord Granville, at the end of the month which had\nopened with the Joint Note, in a despatch to the ambassador at Paris\n(January 30), defined the position of the British cabinet. What measures\nshould be taken to meet Egyptian disorders? The Queen's government had \"a\nstrong objection to the occupation of Egypt by themselves.\" Egypt and\nTurkey would oppose; it would arouse the jealousy of other Powers, who\nwould, as there was even already good reason to believe, make counter\ndemonstrations; and, finally, such an occupation would be as distasteful\nto the French nation as the sole occupation of Egypt by the French would\nbe to ourselves. Joint occupation by England and France, in short, might\nlessen some difficulties, but it would seriously aggravate others. Turkish\noccupation would be a great evil, but it would not entail political\ndangers as great as those attending the other two courses. As for the\nFrench objections to the farther admission of the other European Powers to\nintervene in Egyptian affairs, the cabinet agreed that England and France\nhad an exceptional position in Egypt, but might it not be desirable to\nenter into some communication with the other Powers, as to the best way of\ndealing with a state of things that appeared likely to interfere both with\nthe Sultan's firmans and with Egypt's international engagements?\n\nAt this critical moment Gambetta fell from power. The mark that he had set\nupon western policy in Egypt remained. Good observers on the spot, trained\nin the great school of India, thought that even if there were no more than\na chance of working with the national party, the chance was well worth\ntrying. As the case was put at the time, \"It is impossible to conceive a\nsituation that more imperatively called for caution, circumspection, and\ndeference to the knowledge of observers on the scene, or one that was\nactually handled with greater rashness and hurry. Gambetta had made up his\nmind that the military movement was leading to the abyss, and that it must\nbe peremptorily arrested. It may be that he was right in supposing that\nthe army, which had first found its power in the time of Ismail, would go\nfrom bad to worse. But everything turned upon the possibility of pulling\nup the army, without arousing other elements more dangerous still. M.\nGambetta's impatient policy was worked out in his own head without\nreference to the conditions on the scene, and the result was what might\nhave been expected.\"(51)\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe dual control, the system of carrying on the Egyptian government under\nthe advice of an English and a French agent, came to an end. The rude\nadministration in the provinces fell to pieces. The Khedive was helplessly\ninvolved in struggle after struggle with the military insurgents. The army\nbecame as undisputed masters of the government, as the Cromwellian army at\nsome moments in our civil war. Meanwhile the British government, true to\nMr. Gladstone's constant principle, endeavoured to turn the question from\nbeing purely Anglo-French, into an international question. The Powers were\nnot unfavourable, but nothing came of it. Both from Paris and from London\nsomewhat bewildered suggestions proceeded by way of evading the central\nenigma, whether the intervention should be Turkish (M31) or Anglo-French.\nIt was decided at any rate to send powerful Anglo-French fleets to\nAlexandria, and Mr. Gladstone only regretted that the other Powers\n(including Turkey) had not been invited to have their flags represented.\nTo this the French objected, with the evil result that the other Powers\nwere displeased, and the good effect that the appearance of the Sultan in\nthe field might have had upon the revolutionary parties in Egypt was lost.\nOn May 21, 1882, M. de Freycinet went so far as to say that, though he was\nstill opposed to Turkish intervention, he would not regard as intervention\na case in which Turkish forces were summoned by England and France to\noperate under Anglo-French control, upon conditions specified by the two\nPowers. If it became advisable to land troops, recourse should be had on\nthese terms to Turkish troops and them only. Lord Granville acceded. He\nproposed (May 24) to address the Powers, to procure international sanction\nfor the possible despatch of Turkish troops to Egypt. M. Freycinet\ninsisted that no such step was necessary. At the same time (June 1), M. de\nFreycinet told the Chamber that there were various courses to which they\nmight be led, but he excluded one, and this was a French military\nintervention. That declaration narrowed the case to a choice between\nEnglish intervention, or Turkish, or Anglo-Turkish, all of them known to\nbe profoundly unpalatable to French sentiment. Such was the end of Lord\nGranville's prudent and loyal endeavour to move in step with France.\n\nThe next proposal from M. de Freycinet was a European conference, as\nPrince Bismarck presumed, to cover the admissibility of Turkish\nintervention. A conference was too much in accord with the ideas of the\nBritish cabinet, not to be welcomed by them. The Turk, however, who now\nmight have had the game in his own hands, after a curious exhibition of\nduplicity and folly, declined to join, and the conference at first met\nwithout him (June 23). Then, pursuing tactics well known at all times at\nConstantinople, the Sultan made one of his attempts to divide the Powers,\nby sending a telegram to London (June 25), conferring upon England rights\nof exclusive control in the administration of Egypt.\n\nThis Mr. Gladstone and Lord Granville declined without even consulting the\ncabinet, as too violent an infraction, I suppose, of the cardinal\nprinciple of European concert. The Queen, anxious for an undivided English\ncontrol at any price, complained that the question was settled without\nreference to the cabinet, and here the Queen was clearly not wrong, on\ndoctrines of cabinet authority and cabinet responsibility that were\nusually held by nobody more strongly than by the prime minister himself.\n\nMr. Gladstone and his cabinet fought as hard as they could, and for good\nreasons, against single-handed intervention by Great Britain. When they\nsaw that order could not be re-established without the exercise of force\nfrom without, they insisted that this force should be applied by the\nSultan as sovereign of Egypt. They proposed this solution to the\nconference, and Lord Dufferin urged it upon the Sultan. With curious\ninfatuation (repeated a few years later) the Sultan stood aside. When it\nbecame necessary to make immediate provision for the safety of the Suez\nCanal, England proposed to undertake this duty conjointly with France, and\nsolicited the co-operation of any other Power. Italy was specially invited\nto join. Then when the progress of the rebellion had broken the Khedive's\nauthority and brought Egypt to anarchy, England invited France and Italy\nto act with her in putting the rebellion down. France and Italy declined.\nEngland still urged the Porte to send troops, insisting only on such\nconditions as were indispensable to secure united action. The Porte again\nheld back, and before it carried out an agreement to sign a military\nconvention, events had moved too fast.(52) Thus, by the Sultan's\nperversities and the fluctuations of purpose and temper in France,\nsingle-handed intervention was inexorably forced upon the one Power that\nhad most consistently striven to avoid it. Bismarck, it is true, judged\nthat Arabi was now a power to be reckoned with; the Austrian\nrepresentatives used language of like purport; and Freycinet also inclined\nto coming to terms with Arabi. The British cabinet had persuaded\nthemselves that the overthrow of the military (M32) party was an\nindispensable precedent to any return of decently stable order.\n\nThe situation in Egypt can hardly be adequately understood without a\nmultiplicity of details for which this is no place, and in such cases\ndetails are everything. Diplomacy in which the Sultan of Turkey plays a\npart is always complicated, and at the Conference of Constantinople the\ncobwebs were spun and brushed away and spun again with diligence\nunexampled. The proceedings were without any effect upon the course of\nevents. The Egyptian revolution ran its course. The moral support of\nTurkish commissioners sent by the Sultan to Cairo came to nothing, and the\nmoral influence of the Anglo-French squadron at Alexandria came to\nnothing, and in truth it did more harm than good. The Khedive's throne and\nlife were alike in danger. The Christians flocked down from the interior.\nThe residents in Alexandria were trembling for their lives. At the end of\nMay our agent at Cairo informed his government that a collision between\nMoslems and Christians might occur at any moment. On June 11 some fifty\nEuropeans were massacred by a riotous mob at Alexandria. The British\nconsul was severely wounded, and some sailors of the French fleet were\namong the killed. Greeks and Jews were murdered in other places. At last a\ndecisive blow was struck. For several weeks the Egyptians had been at work\nupon the fortifications of Alexandria, and upon batteries commanding the\nBritish fleet. The British admiral was instructed (July 3) that if this\noperation were continued, he should immediately destroy the earthworks and\nsilence the batteries. After due formalities he (July 11) opened fire at\nseven in the morning, and by half-past five in the evening the Alexandria\nguns were silenced. Incendiaries set the town on fire, the mob pillaged\nit, and some murders were committed. The French ships had sailed away,\ntheir government having previously informed the British ambassador in\nParis that the proposed operation would be an act of war against Egypt,\nand such an act of war without the express consent of the Chamber would\nviolate the constitution.\n\nThe new situation in which England, now found herself was quickly\ndescribed by the prime minister to the House of Commons. On July 22, he\nsaid: \"We should not fully discharge our duty, if we did not endeavour to\nconvert the present interior state of Egypt from anarchy and conflict to\npeace and order. We shall look during the time that remains to us to the\nco-operation of the Powers of civilised Europe, if it be in any case open\nto us. But if every chance of obtaining co-operation is exhausted, the\nwork will be undertaken by the single power of England.\" As for the\nposition of the Powers it may be described in this way. Germany and\nAustria were cordial and respectful; France anxious to retain a completely\nfriendly understanding, but wanting some equivalent for the inevitable\ndecline of her power in Egypt; Italy jealous of our renewing close\nrelations with France; Russia still sore, and on the lookout for some\nplausible excuse for getting the Berlin arrangement of 1878 revised in her\nfavour, without getting into difficulties with Berlin itself.\n\nFrance was not unwilling to take joint action with England for the defence\nof the canal, but would not join England in intervention beyond that\nobject. At the same time Freycinet wished it to be understood that France\nhad no objection to our advance, if we decided to make an advance. This\nwas more than once repeated. Gambetta in vehement wrath declared his dread\nlest the refusal to co-operate with England should shake an alliance of\npriceless value; and lest besides that immense catastrophe, it should hand\nover to the possession of England for ever, territories, rivers, and ports\nwhere the French right to live and trade was as good as hers. The mighty\norator declaimed in vain. Suspicion of the craft of Bismarck was in France\nmore lively than suspicion of aggressive designs in the cabinet of Mr.\nGladstone, and the Chamber was reminded how extremely well it would suit\nGermany that France should lock up her military force in Tunis yesterday,\nin Egypt to-day. Ingenious speakers, pointing to Europe covered with camps\nof armed men; pointing to the artful statesmanship that had pushed Austria\ninto Bosnia and (M33) Herzegovina, and encouraged France herself to occupy\nTunis; pointing to the expectant nations reserving their liberty for\nfuture occasions--all urgently exhorted France now to reserve her own\nliberty of action too. Under the influence of such ideas as these, and by\nthe working of rival personalities and parties, the Chamber by an immense\nmajority turned the Freycinet government out of office (July 29) rather\nthan sanction even such a degree of intervention as concerned the\nprotection of the Suez Canal.\n\nNine days after the bombardment of Alexandria, the British cabinet decided\non the despatch of what was mildly called an expeditionary force to the\nMediterranean, under the command of Sir Garnet Wolseley. The general's\nalertness, energy, and prescient calculation brought him up to Arabi at\nTel-el-Kebir (Sept. 13), and there at one rapid and decisive blow he\ncrushed the military insurrection.(53)\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThe bombardment of Alexandria cost Mr. Gladstone the British colleague who\nin fundamentals stood closest to him of them all. In the opening days of\nJuly, amid differences of opinion that revealed themselves in frequent and\nprotracted meetings of the cabinet, it was thought probable that Mr.\nGladstone and Bright would resign rather than be parties to despatching\ntroops to the Mediterranean; and the two representative radicals were\nexpected to join them. Then came the bombardment, but only Bright went--not\nuntil after earnest protestations from the prime minister. As Mr.\nGladstone described things later to the Queen, Bright's letters and\nconversation consisted very much more of references to his past career and\nstrong statements of feeling, than of attempts to reason on the existing\nfacts of the case, with the obligations that they appeared to entail. Not\nsatisfied with his own efforts, Mr. Gladstone turned to Lord Granville,\nwho had been a stout friend in old days when Bright's was a name of\nreproach and obloquy:--\n\n\n _July 12._--Here is the apprehended letter from dear old John\n Bright, which turns a white day into a black one. It would not be\n fair in me to beg an interview. His kindness would make him\n reluctant to decline; but he would come laden with an\n apprehension, that I by impetuosity and tenacity should endeavour\n to overbear him. But pray consider whether you could do it. He\n would not have the same fear of your dealings with him. I do not\n think you could get a _reversal_, but perhaps he would give you\n another short delay, and at the end of this the sky might be\n further settled.\n\n\nTwo days later Mr. Gladstone and Bright had a long, and we may be sure\nthat it was an earnest, conversation. The former of them the same day put\nhis remarks into the shape of a letter, which the reader may care to have,\nas a statement of the case for the first act of armed intervention, which\nled up by a direct line to the English occupation of Egypt, Soudan wars,\nand to some other events from which the veil is not even yet lifted:--\n\n\n The act of Tuesday [the bombardment of Alexandria] was a solemn\n and painful one, for which I feel myself to be highly responsible,\n and it is my earnest desire that we should all view it now, as we\n shall wish at the last that we had viewed it. Subject to this\n testing rule, I address you as one whom I suppose not to believe\n all use whatever of military force to be unlawful; as one who\n detests war in general and believes most wars to have been sad\n errors (in which I greatly agree with you), but who in regard to\n any particular use of force would look upon it for a justifying\n cause, and after it would endeavour to appreciate its actual\n effect.\n\n The general situation in Egypt had latterly become one in which\n everything was governed by sheer military violence. Every\n legitimate authority--the Khedive, the Sultan, the notables, and\n the best men of the country, such as Cherif and Sultan pashas--had\n been put down, and a situation, of _force_ had been created, which\n could only be met by force. This being so, we had laboured to the\n uttermost, almost alone but not without success, to secure that if\n force were employed against the violence of Arabi, it should be\n force armed with the highest sanction of law; that it should be\n the force of the sovereign, authorised and restrained by the\n united Powers of Europe, who in such a case represent the\n civilised world.\n\n While this is going on, a by-question arises. The British fleet,\n lawfully present in the waters of Alexandria, had the right and\n duty of self-defence. It demanded the discontinuance of attempts\n made to strengthen the armament of the fortifications.... Met by\n fraud and falsehood in its demand, it required surrender with a\n view to immediate dismantling, and this being refused, it\n proceeded to destroy.... The conflagration which followed, the\n pillage and any other outrages effected by the released convicts,\n these are not due to us, but to the seemingly wanton wickedness of\n Arabi....\n\n Such being the amount of our act, what has been its reception and\n its effect? As to its reception, we have not received nor heard of\n a word of disapproval from any Power great or small, or from any\n source having the slightest authority. As to its effect, it has\n taught many lessons, struck a heavy, perhaps a deadly, blow at the\n reign of violence, brought again into light the beginnings of\n legitimate rule, shown the fanaticism of the East that massacre of\n Europeans is not likely to be perpetrated with impunity, and\n greatly advanced the Egyptian question towards a permanent and\n peaceable solution. I feel that in being party to this work I have\n been a labourer in the cause of peace. Your co-operation in that\n cause, with reference to preceding and collateral points, has been\n of the utmost value, and has enabled me to hold my ground, when\n without you it might have been difficult.\n\n\nThe correspondence closed with a wish from Mr. Gladstone: \"Believe in the\nsore sense of practical loss, and the (I trust) unalterable friendship and\nregard with which I remain, etc.\" When Bright came to explain his\nresignation in parliament, he said something about the moral law, which\nled to a sharp retort from the prime minister, but still their friendship\ndid appear to remain unalterable, as Mr. Gladstone trusted that it would.\n\nWhen the question by and by arose whether Arabi should be put to death,\nBright wrote to the prime minister on behalf of clemency. Mr. Gladstone in\nreplying took a severe line: \"I am sorry to say the inquiry is too likely\nto show that Arabi is very much more than a rebel. Crimes of the gravest\nkind have been committed; and with most of them he stands, I fear, in\n_presumptive_ (that is, unproved) connection. In truth I must say that,\nhaving begun with no prejudice against him, and with the strong desire\nthat he should be saved, I am almost driven to the conclusion that he is a\nbad man, and that it will not be an injustice if he goes the road which\nthousands of his innocent countrymen through him have trodden.\" It is a\ngreat mistake to suppose that Mr. Gladstone was all leniency, or that when\nhe thought ill of men, he stayed either at palliating words or at\nhalf-measures.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VI. Political Jubilee. (1882-1883)\n\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ZETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~},\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}.--PLUTARCH, _Moralia_, c. 18.\n\n He strives like an athlete all his life long, and then when he\n comes to the end of his striving, he has what is meet.\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}: {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}; {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}; {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}. {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH YPOGEGRAMMENI~},\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}.\n --PINDAR, _Pyth._ viii. 135.\n\n Things of a day! What is a man? What, when he is not? A dream of\n shadow is mankind. Yet when there comes down glory imparted from\n God, radiant light shines among men and genial days.\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH DASIA AND PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH YPOGEGRAMMENI~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PSI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~};--_Ol._ i. 131.\n\n Die since we must, wherefore should a man sit idle and nurse in\n the gloom days of long life without aim, without name?\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe words from \"antique books\" that I have just translated and\ntranscribed, were written out by Mr. Gladstone inside the cover of the\nlittle diary for 1882-3. To what the old world had to say, he added\nDante's majestic commonplace: \"You were not to live like brutes, but to\npursue virtue and knowledge.\"(54) These meditations on the human lot, on\nthe mingling of our great hopes with the implacable realities, made the\nvital air in which all through his life he drew deep breath. Adjusted to\nhis ever vivid religious creed, amid all the turbid business of the\nworldly elements, they were the sedative and the restorer. Yet here and\nalways the last word was Effort. The moods that in less strenuous natures\nended in melancholy, philosophic or poetic, to him were fresh incentives\nto redeem the time.\n\nThe middle of December 1882 marked his political jubilee. It was now half\na century since he had entered public life, and the youthful graduate from\nOxford had grown to be the foremost man in his country. Yet these fifty\ncourses of the sun and all the pageant of the world had in some ways made\nbut little difference in him. In some ways, it seemed as if time had\nrolled over him in vain. He had learned many lessons. He had changed his\nparty, his horizons were far wider, new social truths had made their way\ninto his impressionable mind, he recognised new social forces. His aims\nfor the church, that he loved as ardently as he gloried in a powerful and\nbeneficent state, had undergone a revolution. Since 1866 he had come into\ncontact with democracy at close quarters; the Bulgarian campaign and\nMidlothian lighting up his early faith in liberty, had inflamed him with\nnew feeling for the voice of the people. As much as in the early time when\nhe had prayed to be allowed to go into orders, he was moved by a\ndominating sense of the common claims and interests of mankind. 'The\ncontagion of the world's slow stain' had not infected him; the lustre and\nlong continuity of his public performances still left all his innermost\nideals constant and undimmed.\n\nHis fifty years of public life had wrought his early habits of severe\ntoil, method, exactness, concentration, into cast-iron. Whether they had\nsharpened what is called knowledge of the world, or taught him insight\ninto men and skill in discrimination among men, it is hard to say. He\nalways talked as if he found the world pretty much what he had expected.\nMan, he used often to say, is the least comprehensible of creatures, and\nof men the most incomprehensible are the politicians. Yet nobody was less\nof the cynic. As for Weltschmerz, world-weariness, ennui, tedium (M34)\nvitae--that enervating family were no acquaintances of his, now nor at any\ntime. None of the vicissitudes of long experience ever tempted him either\ninto the shallow satire on life that is so often the solace of the little\nand the weak; or on the other hand into the _saeva indignatio_, the sombre\nbrooding reprobation, that has haunted some strong souls from Tacitus and\nDante to Pascal, Butler, Swift, Turgot. We may, indeed, be sure that\nneither of these two moods can ever hold a place in the breast of a\ncommanding orator.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nI have spoken of his new feeling for democracy. At the point of time at\nwhich we have arrived, it was heartily reciprocated. The many difficulties\nin the course of public affairs that confronted parliament and the nation\nfor two years or more after Mr. Gladstone's second accession to power, did\nlittle to weaken either his personal popularity or his hold upon the\nconfidence of the constituencies. For many years he and Mr. Disraeli had\nstood out above the level of their adherents; they were the centre of\nevery political storm. Disraeli was gone (April 19, 1881), commemorated by\nMr. Gladstone in a parliamentary tribute that cost him much searching of\nheart beforehand, and was a masterpiece of grace and good feeling. Mr.\nGladstone stood alone, concentrating upon himself by his personal\nascendency and public history the bitter antagonism of his opponents, only\nmatched by the enthusiasm and devotion of his followers. The rage of\nfaction had seldom been more unbridled. The Irish and the young fourth\nparty were rivals in malicious vituperation; of the two, the Irish on the\nwhole observed the better manners. Once Mr. Gladstone was wounded to the\nquick, as letters show, when a member of the fourth party denounced as \"a\ngovernment of infamy\" the ministry with whose head he had long been on\nterms of more than friendship alike as host and guest. He could not fell\nhis trees, he could not read the lessons in Hawarden church, without\nfinding these innocent habits turned into material for platform mockery.\n\"In the eyes of the opposition, as indeed of the country,\" said a great\nprint that was never much his friend, \"he is the government and he is the\nliberal party,\" and the writer went on to scold Lord Salisbury for wasting\nhis time in the concoction of angry epigrams and pungent phrases that were\nneither new nor instructive.(55) They pierced no joint in the mail of the\nwarrior at whom they were levelled. The nation at large knew nothing of\ndifficulties at Windsor, nothing of awkward passages in the cabinet,\nnothing of the trying egotisms of gentlemen out of the cabinet who\ninsisted that they ought to be in. Nor would such things have made any\ndifference except in his favour, if the public had known all about them.\nThe Duke of Argyll and Lord Lansdowne had left him; his Irish policy had\ncost him his Irish secretary, and his Egyptian policy had cost him Mr.\nBright. They had got into a war, they had been baffled in legislation,\nthey had to raise the most unpopular of taxes, there had been the\nfrightful tragedy in Ireland. Yet all seemed to have been completely\novercome in the public mind by the power of Mr. Gladstone in uniting his\nfriends and frustrating his foes, and the more bitterly he was hated by\nsociety, the more warmly attached were the mass of the people. Anybody who\nhad foreseen all this would have concluded that the government must be in\nextremity, but he went to the Guildhall on the 9th of November 1882, and\nhad the best possible reception on that famous stage. One tory newspaper\nfelt bound to admit that Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues had\nrehabilitated themselves in the public judgment with astounding rapidity,\nand were now almost as strong in popular and parliamentary support as when\nthey first took office.(56) Another tory print declared Mr. Gladstone to\nbe stronger, more popular, more despotic, than at any time since the\npolicy to carry out which he was placed in office was disclosed.(57) The\nsession of 1882 had only been exceeded in duration by two sessions for\nfifty years.\n\nThe reader has had pictures enough from friendly hands, so here is one\nfrom a persistent foe, one of the most brilliant journalists of that time,\nwho listened to him from (M35) the gallery for years. The words are from\nan imaginary dialogue, and are put into the mouth of a well-known whig in\nparliament:--\n\n\n Sir, I can only tell you that, profoundly as I distrusted him, and\n lightly as on the whole I valued the external qualities of his\n eloquence, I have never listened to him even for a few minutes\n without ceasing to marvel at his influence over men. That\n white-hot face, stern as a Covenanter's yet mobile as a\n comedian's; those restless, flashing eyes; that wondrous voice,\n whose richness its northern burr enriched as the tang of the wood\n brings out the mellowness of a rare old wine; the masterly cadence\n of his elocution; the vivid energy of his attitudes; the fine\n animation of his gestures;--sir, when I am assailed through eye and\n ear by this compacted phalanx of assailants, what wonder that the\n stormed outposts of the senses should spread the contagion of\n their own surrender through the main encampment of the mind, and\n that against my judgment, in contempt of my conscience, nay, in\n defiance of my very will, I should exclaim, \"This is indeed the\n voice of truth and wisdom. This man is honest and sagacious beyond\n his fellows. He must be believed, he must be obeyed!\"(58)\n\n\nOn the day of his political jubilee (Dec. 13), the event was celebrated in\nmany parts of the country, and he received congratulatory telegrams from\nall parts of the world; for it was not only two hundred and forty liberal\nassociations who sent him joyful addresses. The Roumelians poured out\naloud their gratitude to him for the interest he constantly manifested in\ntheir cause, and for his powerful and persistent efforts for their\nemancipation. From Athens came the news that they had subscribed for the\nerection of his statue, and from the Greeks also came a splendid casket.\nIn his letter of thanks,(59) after remonstrating against its too great\nmaterial value, he said:--\n\n\n I know not well how to accept it, yet I am still less able to\n decline it, when I read the touching lines of the accompanying\n address, in itself an ample token, in which you have so closely\n associated my name with the history and destinies of your country.\n I am not vain enough to think that I have deserved any of the\n numerous acknowledgments which I have received, especially from\n Greeks, on completing half a century of parliamentary life. Your\n over-estimate of my deeds ought rather to humble than to inflate\n me. But to have laboured within the measure of justice for the\n Greece of the future, is one of my happiest political\n recollections, and to have been trained in a partial knowledge of\n the Greece of the past has largely contributed to whatever slender\n faculties I possess for serving my own country or my kind. I\n earnestly thank you for your indulgent judgment and for your too\n costly gifts, and I have the honour to remain, etc.\n\n\nWhat was deeper to him than statues or caskets was found in letters from\ncomparative newcomers into the political arena thanking him not only for\nhis long roll of public service, but much more for the example and\nencouragement that his life gave to younger men endeavouring to do\nsomething for the public good. To one of these he wrote (Dec. 15):--\n\n\n I thank you most sincerely for your kind and friendly letter. As\n regards the prospective part of it, I can assure you that I should\n be slow to plead the mere title to retirement which long labour is\n supposed to earn. But I have always watched, and worked according\n to what I felt to be the measure of my own mental force. A monitor\n from within tells me that though I may still be equal to some\n portions of my duties, or as little unequal as heretofore, there\n are others which I cannot face. I fear therefore I must keep in\n view an issue which cannot be evaded.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAs it happened, this volume of testimony to the affection, gratitude, and\nadmiration thus ready to go out to him from so many quarters coincided in\npoint of time with one or two extreme vexations in the conduct of his\ndaily business as head of the government. Some of them were aggravated by\nthe loss of a man whom he regarded as one of his two or three most\nimportant friends. In September 1882 the Dean of Windsor died, and in his\ndeath Mr. Gladstone (M36) suffered a heavy blow. To the end he always\nspoke of Dr. Wellesley's friendship, and the value of his sagacity and\nhonest service, with a warmth by this time given to few.\n\n\n _Death of the Dean of Windsor._\n\n _To Lord Granville, Sept. 18, 1882._--My belief is that he has been\n cognizant of every crown appointment in the church for nearly a\n quarter of a century, and that the whole of his influence has been\n exercised with a deep insight and a large heart for the best\n interests of the crown and the church. If their character during\n this period has been in the main more satisfactory to the general\n mind of the country than at some former periods, it has been in no\n small degree owing to him.\n\n It has been my duty to recommend I think for fully forty of the\n higher appointments, including twelve which were episcopal. I\n rejoice to say that every one of them has had his approval. But I\n do not scruple to own that he has been in no small degree a help\n and guide to me; and as to the Queen, whose heart I am sure is at\n this moment bleeding, I do not believe she can possibly fill his\n place as a friendly adviser either in ecclesiastical or other\n matters.\n\n _To the Duchess of Wellington, Sept. 24._--He might, if he had\n chosen, have been on his way to the Archbishopric of Canterbury.\n Ten or eleven years ago, when the present primate was not expected\n to recover, the question of the succession was considered, and I\n had her Majesty's consent to the idea I have now mentioned. But,\n governed I think by his great modesty, he at once refused.\n\n _To Mrs. Wellesley, Nov. 19, 1882._--I have remained silent, at\n least to you, on a subject which for no day has been absent from\n my thoughts, because I felt that I could add nothing to your\n consolations and could take away nothing from your grief under\n your great calamity. But the time has perhaps come when I may\n record my sense of a loss of which even a small share is so large.\n The recollections of nearly sixty years are upon my mind, and\n through all that period I have felt more and more the force and\n value of your husband's simple and noble character. No less have I\n entertained an ever-growing sense of his great sagacity and the\n singularly true and just balance of his mind. We owe much indeed\n to you both for your constantly renewed kindness, but I have\n another debt to acknowledge in the invaluable assistance which he\n afforded me in the discharge of one among the most important and\n most delicate of my duties. This void never can be filled, and it\n helps me in some degree to feel what must be the void to you.\n Certainly he was happy in the enjoyment of love and honour from\n all who knew him; yet these were few in comparison with those whom\n he so wisely and so warmly served without their knowing it; and\n the love and honour paid him, great as they were, could not be as\n great as he deserved. His memory is blessed--may his rest be deep\n and sweet, and may the memory and example of him ever help you in\n your onward pilgrimage.\n\n\nThe same week Dr. Pusey died--a name that filled so large a space in the\nreligious history of England for some thirty years of the century. Between\nMr. Gladstone and him the old relations of affectionate friendship\nsubsisted unbroken, notwithstanding the emancipation, as we may call it,\nof the statesman from maxims and principles, though not, so far as I know,\nfrom any of the leading dogmatic beliefs cherished by the divine. \"I\nhope,\" he wrote to Phillimore (Sept. 20, 1882), \"to attend Dr. Pusey's\nfuneral to-morrow at Oxford.... I shall have another mournful office to\ndischarge in attending the funeral of the Dean of Windsor, more mournful\nthan the first. Dr. Pusey's death is the ingathering of a ripe shock, and\nI go to his obsequies in token of deep respect and in memory of much\nkindness from him early in my life. But the death of Dean Wellesley is to\nmy wife and me an unexpected and very heavy blow, also to me an\nirreparable loss. I had honoured and loved him from Eton days.\"\n\nThe loss of Dean Wellesley's counsels was especially felt in\necclesiastical appointments, and the greatest of these was made necessary\nby the death of the Archbishop of Canterbury at the beginning of December.\nThat the prime minister should regard so sage, conciliatory, and\nlarge-minded a steersman as Dr. Tait with esteem was certain, and their\nrelations were easy and manly. Still, Tait had been an active liberal when\nMr. Gladstone was a tory, and (M37) from the distant days of the _Tracts\nfor the Times_, when Tait had stood amongst the foremost in open dislike\nof the new tenets, their paths in the region of theology lay wide apart.\n\"I well remember,\" says Dean Lake, \"a conversation with Mr. Gladstone on\nTait's appointment to London in 1856, when he was much annoyed at Tait's\nbeing preferred to Bishop Wilberforce, and of which he reminded me nearly\nthirty years afterwards, at the time of the archbishop's death, by saying,\n'Ah! I remember you maintaining to me at that time that his {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} and\nhis judgment would make him a great bishop.' \"(60) And so, from the point\nof ecclesiastical statesmanship, he unquestionably was.\n\nThe recommendation of a successor in the historic see of Canterbury, we\nmay be very certain, was no common event to Mr. Gladstone. Tait on his\ndeathbed had given his opinion that Dr. Harold Browne, the Bishop of\nWinchester, would do more than any other man to keep the peace of the\nchurch. The Queen was strong in the same sense, thinking that the bishop\nmight resign in a year or two, if he could not do the work. He was now\nseventy-one years old, and Mr. Gladstone judged this to be too advanced an\nage for the metropolitan throne. He was himself now seventy-three, and\nthough his sense of humour was not always of the protective kind, he felt\nthe necessity of some explanatory reason, and with him to seek a plea was\nto find one. He wrote to the Bishop of Winchester:--\n\n\n ... It may seem strange that I, who in my own person exhibit so\n conspicuously the anomaly of a disparate conjunction between years\n and duties, should be thus forward in interpreting the\n circumstances of another case certainly more mitigated in many\n respects, yet differing from my own case in one vital point, the\n newness of the duties of the English, or rather anglican or\n British, primacy to a diocesan bishop, however able and\n experienced, and the newness of mental attitude and action, which\n they would require. Among the materials of judgment in such an\n instance, it seems right to reckon precedents for what they are\n worth; and I cannot find that from the time of Archbishop Sheldon\n any one has assumed the primacy at so great an age as seventy.\n Juxon, the predecessor of Sheldon, was much older; but his case\n was altogether peculiar. I cannot say how pleasant it would have\n been to me personally, but for the barrier I have named, to mark\n my respect and affection for your lordship by making to you such a\n proposal. What is more important is, that I am directly authorised\n by her Majesty to state that this has been the single impediment\n to her conferring the honour, and imposing the burden, upon you of\n such an offer.(61)\n\n\nThe world made free with the honoured name of Church, the Dean of Saint\nPaul's, and it has constantly been said that he declined the august\npreferment to Canterbury on this occasion. In that story there is no\ntruth. \"Formal offer,\" the Dean himself wrote to a friend, \"there was\nnone, and could not be, for I had already on another occasion told my mind\nto Gladstone, and said that reasons of health, apart from other reasons,\nmade it impossible for me to think of anything, except a retirement\naltogether from office.\"(62)\n\nWhen it was rumoured that Mr. Gladstone intended to recommend Dr. Benson,\nthen Bishop of Truro, to the archbishopric, a political supporter came to\nremonstrate with him. \"The Bishop of Truro is a strong tory,\" he said,\n\"but that is not all. He has joined Mr. Raikes's election committee at\nCambridge; and it was only last week that Raikes made a violent personal\nattack on yourself.\" \"Do you know,\" replied Mr. Gladstone, \"you have just\nsupplied me with a strong argument in Dr. Benson's favour? For if he had\nbeen a worldly man or self-seeker, he would not have done anything so\nimprudent.\" Perhaps we cannot wonder that whips and wirepullers deemed\nthis to be somewhat over-ingenious, a Christianity out of season. Even\nliberals who took another point of view, still asked themselves how it was\n(M38) that when church preferment came his way, the prime minister so\noften found the best clergymen in the worst politicians. They should have\nremembered that he was of those who believed \"no more glorious church in\nChristendom to exist than the church of England\"; and its official\nordering was in his eyes not any less, even if it was not infinitely more,\nimportant in the highest interests of the nation than the construction of\na cabinet or the appointment of permanent heads of departments. The church\nwas at this moment, moreover, in one of those angry and perilous crises\nthat came of the Elizabethan settlement and the Act of Uniformity, and the\nanglican revival forty years ago, and all the other things that mark the\narrested progress of the Reformation in England. The anti-ritualist hunt\nwas up. Civil courts were busy with the conscience and conduct of the\nclergy. Harmless but contumacious priests were under lock and key. It\nseemed as if more might follow them, or else as if the shock of the great\ntractarian catastrophe of the forties might in some new shape recur. To\nrecommend an archbishop in times like these could to a churchman be no\nlight responsibility.\n\nWith such thoughts in his mind, however we may judge them, it is not\naltogether surprising that in seeking an ecclesiastical governor for an\ninstitution to him the most sacred and beloved of all forms of human\nassociation, Mr. Gladstone should have cared very little whether the\npersonage best fitted in spirituals was quite of the right shade as to\nstate temporals. The labour that he now expended on finding the best man\nis attested by voluminous correspondence. Dean Church, who was perhaps the\nmost freely consulted by the prime minister, says, \"Of one thing I am\nquite certain, that never for hundreds of years has so much honest\ndisinterested pains been taken to fill the primacy--such inquiry and\ntrouble resolutely followed out to find the really fittest man, apart from\nevery personal and political consideration, as in this case.\"(63)\n\nAnother ecclesiastical vacancy that led to volumes of correspondence was\nthe deanery of Westminster the year before. In the summer of 1881 Dean\nStanley died, and it is interesting to note how easy Mr. Gladstone found\nit to do full justice to one for whom as erastian and latitudinarian he\ncould in opinion have such moderate approval. In offering to the Queen his\n\"cordial sympathy\" for the friend whom she had lost, he told her how early\nin his own life and earlier still in the dean's he had opportunities of\nwatching the development of his powers, for they had both been educated at\na small school near the home of Mr. Gladstone's boyhood.(64) He went on to\nspeak of Stanley's boundless generosity and brilliant gifts, his genial\nand attaching disposition. \"There may be,\" he said, \"and must be much\ndiversity as to parts of the opinions of Dean Stanley, but he will be long\nremembered as one who was capable of the deepest and widest love, and who\nreceived it in return.\"\n\nFar away from these regions of what he irreverently called the shovel hat,\nabout this time Carlyle died (Feb. 4, 1881), a firm sympathiser with Mr.\nGladstone in his views of the unspeakable Turk, but in all else the rather\nboisterous preacher of a gospel directly antipathetic. \"Carlyle is at\nleast a great fact in the literature of his time; and has contributed\nlargely, in some respects too largely, towards forming its characteristic\nhabits of thought.\" So Mr. Gladstone wrote in 1876, in a highly\ninteresting parallel between Carlyle and Macaulay--both of them honest, he\nsaid, both notwithstanding their honesty partisans; both of them, though\nvariously, poets using the vehicle of prose; both having the power of\npainting portraits extraordinary for vividness and strength; each of them\nvastly though diversely powerful in expression, each more powerful in\nexpression than in thought; neither of them to be resorted to for\ncomprehensive disquisition, nor for balanced and impartial judgments.(65)\nPerhaps it was too early in 1876 to speak of Carlyle as forming the\ncharacteristic habits of thought of his time, but undoubtedly now when he\ndied, his influence was beginning to tell heavily against the speculative\nliberalism that had reigned in England for two generations, with enormous\nadvantage to the peace, prosperity and power of (M39) the country and the\ntwo generations concerned. Half lights and half truths are, as Mr.\nGladstone implies, the utmost that Carlyle's works were found to yield in\nphilosophy and history, but his half lights pointed in the direction in\nwhich men for more material reasons thought that they desired to go.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nA reconstruction of the ministry had become necessary by his own\nabandonment of the exchequer. For one moment it was thought that Lord\nHartington might become chancellor, leaving room for Lord Derby at the\nIndia office, but Lord Derby was not yet ready to join. In inviting Mr.\nChilders to take his place as chancellor of the exchequer, Mr. Gladstone\ntold him (Dec. 1, 1882): \"The basis of my action is not so much a desire\nto be relieved from labour, as an anxiety to give the country a much\nbetter finance minister than myself,--one whose eyes will be always ranging\nfreely and vigilantly over the whole area of the great establishments, the\npublic service and the laws connected with his office, for the purposes of\nimprovement and of good husbandry.\"\n\nThe claim of Sir Charles Dilke to a seat in the cabinet had become\nirresistible alike by his good service as undersecretary at the foreign\noffice, and by his position out of doors; and as the admission of a\nradical must be balanced by a whig--so at least it was judged--Mr. Gladstone\nsucceeded in inducing Lord Derby to join, though he had failed with him\nnot long before.(66)\n\nApart from general objections at court, difficulties arose about the\ndistribution of office. Mr. Chamberlain, who has always had his full share\nof the virtues of staunch friendship, agreed to give up to Sir C. Dilke\nhis own office, which he much liked, and take the duchy, which he did not\nlike at all. In acknowledging Mr. Chamberlain's letter (Dec. 14) Mr.\nGladstone wrote to him, \"I shall be glad, if I can, to avoid acting upon\nit. But I cannot refrain from at once writing a hearty line to acknowledge\nthe self-sacrificing spirit in which it is written; and which, I am sure,\nyou will never see cause to repent or change.\" This, however, was found to\nbe no improvement, for Mr. Chamberlain's language about ransoms to be paid\nby possessors of property, the offence of not toiling and spinning, and\nthe services rendered by courtiers to kings, was not much less repugnant\nthan rash assertions about the monarch evading the income-tax. All\ncontention on personal points was a severe trial to Mr. Gladstone, and any\nconflict with the wishes of the Queen tried him most of all. One of his\naudiences upon these affairs Mr. Gladstone mentions in his diary: \"Dec.\n11.--Off at 12.45 to Windsor in the frost and fog. Audience of her Majesty\nat 3. Most difficult ground, but aided by her beautiful manners, we got\nover it better than might have been expected.\" The dispute was stubborn,\nbut like all else it came to an end; colleagues were obliging, holes and\npegs were accommodated, and Lord Derby went to the colonial office, and\nSir C. Dilke to the local government board. An officer of the court, who\nwas in all the secrets and had foreseen all the difficulties, wrote that\nthe actual result was due \"to the judicious manner in which Mr. Gladstone\nmanaged everything. He argued in a friendly way, urging his views with\nmoderation, and appealed to the Queen's sense of courtesy.\"\n\nIn the course of his correspondence with the Queen, the prime minister\ndrew her attention (Dec. 18) to the fact that when the cabinet was formed\nit included three ministers reputed to belong to the radical section, Mr.\nBright, Mr. Forster, and Mr. Chamberlain, and of these only the last\nremained. The addition of Lord Derby was an addition drawn from the other\nwing of the party. Another point presented itself. The cabinet originally\ncontained eight commoners and six peers. There were now seven peers and\nsix commoners. This made it requisite to add a commoner. As for Mr.\nChamberlain, the minister assured the Queen that though he had not yet,\nlike Mr. Bright, undergone the mollifying influence of age and experience,\nhis leanings on foreign policy would be far more acceptable to her Majesty\nthan those of Mr. Bright, while his views were not known to be any more\ndemocratic in principle. He further expressed his firm opinion (Dec. 22)\n(M40) that though Lord Derby might on questions of peace and war be some\nshades nearer to the views of Mr. Bright than the other members of the\ncabinet, yet he would never go anything like the length of Mr. Bright in\nsuch matters. In fact, said Mr. Gladstone, the cabinet must be deemed a\nlittle less pacific now than it was at its first formation. This at least\nwas a consolatory reflection.\n\nMinisterial reconstruction is a trying moment for the politician who\nthinks himself \"not a favourite with his stars,\" and is in a hurry for a\nbox seat before his time has come. Mr. Gladstone was now harassed with\nsome importunities of this kind.(67) Personal collision with any who stood\nin the place of friends was always terrible to him. His gift of sleep\ndeserted him. \"It is disagreeable to talk of oneself,\" he wrote to Lord\nGranville (Jan. 2, 1883), \"when there is so much of more importance to\nthink and speak about, but I am sorry to say that the incessant strain and\npressure of work, and especially the multiplication of these personal\nquestions, is overdoing me, and for the first time my power of sleep is\nseriously giving way. I dare say it would soon right itself if I could\noffer it any other medicine than the medicine in Hood's 'Song of the\nShirt.' \" And the next day he wrote: \"Last night I improved, 3-1/2-hours to\n4-1/2, but this is different from 7 and 8, my uniform standard through\nlife.\" And two days later: \"The matter of sleep is with me a very grave\none. I am afraid I may have to go up and consult Clark. My habit has\nalways been to reckon my hours rather exultingly, and say how little I am\nawake. It is not impossible that I may have to ask you to meet me in\nLondon, but I will not do this except in necessity. I think that, to\nconvey a clear idea, I should say I attach no importance to the broken\nsleep itself; it is the state of the brain, tested by my own sensations,\nwhen I begin my work in the morning, which may make me need higher\nassurance.\" Sir Andrew Clark, \"overflowing with kindness, as always,\" went\ndown to Hawarden (Jan. 7), examined, and listened to the tale of heavy\nwakeful nights. While treating the case as one of temporary and accidental\nderangement, he instantly forbade a projected expedition to Midlothian,\nand urged change of air and scene.\n\nThis prohibition eased some of the difficulties at Windsor, where\nMidlothian was a name of dubious association, and in announcing to the\nQueen the abandonment by Dr. Clark's orders of the intended journey to the\nnorth, Mr. Gladstone wrote (Jan. 8, 1883):--\n\n\n In your Majesty's very kind reference on the 5th to his former\n visits to Midlothian, and to his own observations on the 24th\n April 1880, your Majesty remarked that he had said he did not then\n think himself a responsible person. He prays leave to fill up the\n outline which these words convey by saying he at that time (to the\n best of his recollection) humbly submitted to your Majesty his\n admission that he must personally bear the consequences of all\n that he had said, and that he thought some things suitable to be\n said by a person out of office which could not suitably be said by\n a person in office; also that, as is intimated by your Majesty's\n words, the responsibilities of the two positions severally were\n different. With respect to the political changes named by your\n Majesty, Mr. Gladstone considers that the very safe measure of\n extending to the counties the franchise enjoyed by the boroughs\n stands in all likelihood for early consideration; but he doubts\n whether there can be any serious dealing of a general character\n with the land laws by the present parliament, and so far as\n Scottish disestablishment is concerned he does not conceive that\n that question has made progress during recent years; and he may\n state that in making arrangements recently for his expected visit\n to Midlothian, he had received various overtures for deputations\n on this subject, which he had been able to put aside.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nOn January 17, along with Mrs. Gladstone, at Charing Cross he said\ngood-bye to many friends, and at Dover to Lord Granville, and the\nfollowing afternoon he found himself at Cannes, the guest of the\nWolvertons at the Chateau (M41) Scott, \"nobly situated, admirably planned,\nand the kindness exceeded even the beauty and the comfort.\" \"Here,\" he\nsays, \"we fell in with the foreign hours, the snack early, dejeuner at\nnoon, dinner at seven, break-up at ten.... I am stunned by this wonderful\nplace, and so vast a change at a moment's notice in the conditions of\nlife.\" He read steadily through the _Odyssey_, Dixon's _History of the\nChurch of England_, Scherer's _Miscellanies_, and _The Life of\nClerk-Maxwell_, and every day he had long talks and walks with Lord Acton\non themes personal, political and religious--and we may believe what a\nrestorative he found in communion with that deep and well-filled mind--that\n\"most satisfactory mind,\" as Mr. Gladstone here one day calls it. He took\ndrives to gardens that struck him as fairyland. The Prince of Wales paid\nhim kindly attentions as always. He had long conversations with the Comte\nde Paris, and with M. Clemenceau, and with the Duke of Argyll, the oldest\nof his surviving friends. In the evening he played whist. Home affairs he\nkept at bay pretty successfully, though a speech of Lord Hartington's\nabout local government in Ireland drew from him a longish letter to Lord\nGranville that the reader, if he likes, will find elsewhere.(68) His\nconversation with M. Clemenceau (whom he found \"decidedly pleasing\") was\nthought indiscreet, but though the most circumspect of men, the buckram of\na spurious discretion was no favourite wear with Mr. Gladstone. As for the\nreport of his conversation with the French radical, he wrote to Lord\nGranville, \"It includes much which Clemenceau did not say to me, and omits\nmuch which he did, for our principal conversation was on Egypt, about\nwhich he spoke in a most temperate and reasonable manner.\" He read the\n\"harrowing details\" of the terrible scene in the court-house at\nKilmainham, where the murderous Invincibles were found out. \"About Carey,\"\nhe said to Lord Granville, \"the spectacle is indeed loathsome, but I\ncannot doubt that the Irish government are distinctly _right_. In\naccepting an approver you do not incite him to do what is in itself wrong;\nonly his own bad mind can make it wrong to him. The government looks for\nthe truth. Approvers are, I suppose, for the most part base, but I do not\nsee how you could act on a distinction of degree between them. Still, one\nwould have heard the hiss from the dock with sympathy.\"\n\nLord Granville wrote to him (Jan. 31, 1883) that the Queen insisted much\nupon his diminishing the amount of labour thrown upon him, and expressed\nher opinion that his acceptance of a peerage would relieve him of the\nheavy strain. Lord Granville told her that personally he should be\ndelighted to see him in the Lords, but that he had great doubts whether\nMr. Gladstone would be willing. From Cannes Mr. Gladstone replied (Feb.\n3):--\n\n\n As to removal into the House of Lords, I think the reasons against\n it of general application are conclusive. At least I cannot see my\n way in regard to them. But at any rate it is obvious that such a\n step is quite inapplicable to the circumstances created by the\n present difficulty. It is really most kind of the Queen to testify\n such an interest, and the question is how to answer her. You would\n do this better and perhaps more easily than I.\n\n\nPerhaps he remembered the case of Pulteney and of the Great Commoner.\n\nHe was not without remorse at the thought of his colleagues in harness\nwhile he was lotus-eating. On the day before the opening of the session he\nwrites, \"I feel dual: I am at Cannes, and in Downing Street eating my\nparliamentary dinner.\" By February 21 he was able to write to Lord\nGranville:--\n\n\n As regards my health there is no excuse. It has got better and\n better as I have stayed on, and is now, I think, on a higher level\n than for a long time past. My sleep, for example, is now about as\n good as it can be, and far better than it was during the autumn\n sittings, _after_ which it got so bad. The pleasure I have had in\n staying does not make an argument at all; it is a mere expression\n or anticipation of my desire to be turned out to grass for\n good....\n\n\nAt last the end of the holiday came. \"I part from Cannes with a heavy\nheart,\" he records on Feb. 26:--\n\n\n Read the _Iliad_, copiously. Off by the 12.30 train. We exchanged\n bright sun, splendid views, and a little dust at the beginning of\n our journey, for frost and fog, which however hid no scenery, at\n the end. _27th, Tuesday._--Reached Paris at 8, and drove to the\n Embassy, where we had a most kind reception [from Lord Lyons].\n Wrote to Lord Granville, Lord Spencer, Sir W. Harcourt. Went with\n Lord L. to see M. Grevy; also Challemel-Lacour in his most\n palatial abode. Looked about among the shops; and at the sad face\n of the Tuileries. An embassy party to dinner; excellent company.\n\n _To Lord Granville._\n\n _Feb. 27th._--I have been with Lord Lyons to see Grevy and\n Challemel-Lacour. Grevy's conversation consisted of civilities and\n a mournful lecture on the political history of France, with many\n compliments to the superiority of England. Challemel thought the\n burdens of public life intolerable and greater here than in\n England, which is rather strong. Neither made the smallest\n allusion to present questions, and it was none of my business to\n introduce them....\n\n\nAfter three days of bookstalls, ivory-hunting, and conversation, by the\nevening of March 2 the travellers were once more after a bright day and\nrapid passage safe in Downing Street.\n\nShortly after their return from the south of France the Gladstones paid a\nvisit to the Prince and Princess of Wales:--\n\n\n _March 30, 1883._--Off at 11.30 to Sandringham. Reception kinder if\n possible even than heretofore. Wrote.... Read and worked on London\n municipality. _31, Saturday_.--Wrote. Root-cut a small tree in the\n forenoon; then measured oaks in the park; one of 30 feet. In the\n afternoon we drove to Houghton, a stately house and place, but\n woe-begone. Conversation with Archbishop of Canterbury, Prince of\n Wales and others. Read ... _Life of Hatherley_, Law's account of\n Craig. _April 1._--Sandringham church, morning. West Newton,\n evening. Good services and sermons from the archbishop. The Prince\n bade me read the lessons. Much conversation with the archbishop,\n also Duke of Cambridge. Read _Nineteenth Century_ on Revised\n Version; Manning on Education; _Life of Hatherley_; Craig's\n _Catechism_. Wrote, etc. 2.--Off at 11. D. Street 3.15. Wrote to\n the Queen. Long conversation with the archbishop in the train.\n\n\nHere a short letter or two may find a place:--\n\n\n _To Lady Jessel on her husband's death._\n\n _March 30._--Though I am reluctant to intrude upon your sorrow\n still so fresh, and while I beg of you on no account to\n acknowledge this note, I cannot refrain from writing to assure you\n not only of my sympathy with your grief, but of my profound sense\n of the loss which the country and its judiciary have sustained by\n the death of your distinguished husband. From the time of his\n first entrance into parliament I followed his legal expositions\n with an ignorant but fervid admiration, and could not help placing\n him in the first rank, a rank held by few, of the many able and\n powerful lawyers whom during half a century I have known and heard\n in parliament. When I came to know him as a colleague, I found\n reason to admire no less sincerely his superiority to\n considerations of pecuniary interest, his strong and tenacious\n sense of the dignity of his office, and his thoroughly frank,\n resolute, and manly character. These few words, if they be a\n feeble, yet I assure you are also a genuine, tribute to a memory\n which I trust will long be cherished. Earnestly anxious that you\n may have every consolation in your heavy bereavement.\n\n _To Cardinal Manning._\n\n _April 19._--I thank you much for your kind note, though I am sorry\n to have given you the trouble of writing it. Both of us have much\n to be thankful for in the way of health, but I should have, hoped\n that your extremely spare living would have saved you from the\n action of anything like gouty tendencies. As for myself, I can in\n no way understand how it is that for a full half century I have\n been permitted and enabled to resist a pressure of special\n liabilities attaching to my path of life, to which so many have\n given way. I am left as a solitary, surviving all his compeers.\n But I trust it may not be long ere I escape into some position\n better suited to declining years.\n\n _To Sir W. V. Harcourt._\n\n _April 27._--A separate line to thank you for your more than kind\n words about my rather Alexandrine speech last night; as to which I\n can only admit that it contained one fine passage--six lines in\n length.(69) Your \"instincts\" of kindliness in all personal matters\n are known to all the world. I should be glad, on selfish grounds,\n if I could feel sure that they had not a little warped your\n judicial faculty for the moment. But this misgiving abates nothing\n from my grateful acknowledgment.\n\n\nAn application was made to him on behalf of a member of the opposite party\nfor a political pension, and here is his reply, to which it may be added\nthat ten years later he had come rather strongly to the view that\npolitical pensions should be abolished, and he was only deterred from\ntrying to carry out his view by the reminder from younger ministers, not\nthemselves applicants nor ever likely to be, that it would hardly be a\ngracious thing to cut off benefactions at a time when the bestowal of them\nwas passing away from him, though he had used them freely while that\nbestowal was within his reach.\n\n\n _Political Pensions._\n\n _July 4, 1883._--You are probably aware that during the fifty years\n which have passed since the system of political and civil pensions\n was essentially remodelled, no political pension has been granted\n by any minister except to one of those with whom he stood on terms\n of general confidence and co-operation. It is needless to refer to\n older practice.\n\n This is not to be accounted for by the fact that after meeting the\n just claims of political adherents, there has been nothing left to\n bestow. For, although it has happened that the list of pensions of\n the first class has usually been full, it has not been so with\n political pensions of the other classes, which have, I think,\n rarely if ever been granted to the fullest extent that the Acts\n have allowed. At the present time, out of twelve pensions which\n may legally be conferred, only seven have been actually given, if\n I reckon rightly. I do not think that this state of facts can have\n been due to the absence of cases entitled to consideration, and I\n am quite certain that it is not to be accounted for by what are\n commonly termed party motives. It was obvious to me that I could\n not create a precedent of deviation from a course undeviatingly\n pursued by my predecessors of all parties, without satisfying\n myself that a new form of proceeding would be reasonable and safe.\n The examination of private circumstances, such as I consider the\n Act to require, is from its own nature difficult and invidious:\n but the examination of competing cases in the ex-official corps is\n a function that could not, I think, be discharged with the\n necessary combination of free responsible action, and of exemption\n from offence and suspicion. Such cases plainly may occur.(70)\n\n _To H.R.H. the Prince of Wales._\n\n _August 14th._--I am much shocked at an omission which I made last\n night in failing to ask your royal Highness's leave to be the\n first to quit Lord Alcester's agreeable party, in order that I\n might attend to my duties in the House of Commons. In my early\n days not only did the whole company remain united, if a member of\n the royal family were present, until the exalted personage had\n departed; but I well recollect the application of the same rule in\n the case of the Archbishop (Howley) of Canterbury. I am sorry to\n say that I reached the House of Commons in time to hear some\n outrageous speeches from the ultra Irish members. I will not say\n that they were meant to encourage crime, but they tended directly\n to teach the Irish people to withhold their confidence from the\n law and its administrators; and they seemed to exhibit Lord\n Spencer as the enemy to the mass of the community--a sad and\n disgraceful fact, though I need not qualify what I told your royal\n Highness, that they had for some time past not been guilty of\n obstruction.\n\n\nEven in pieces that were in their nature more or less official, he touched\nthe occasions of life by a note that was not merely official, or was\nofficial in its best form. To Mrs. Garfield he wrote (July 21, 1881):--\n\n\n You will, I am sure, excuse me, though a personal stranger, for\n addressing you by letter, to convey to you the assurance of my own\n feelings and those of my countrymen on the occasion of the late\n horrible attempt to murder the President of the United States, in\n a form more palpable at least than that of messages conveyed by\n telegraph. Those feelings have been feelings in the first instance\n of sympathy, and afterwards of joy and thankfulness, almost\n comparable, and I venture to say only second to the strong\n emotions of the great nation, of which he is the appointed head.\n Individually I have, let me beg you to believe, had my full share\n in the sentiments which have possessed the British nation. They\n have been prompted and quickened largely by what I venture to\n think is the ever-growing sense of harmony and mutual respect and\n affection between the two countries, and of a relationship which\n from year to year becomes more and more a practical bond of union\n between us. But they have also drawn much of their strength from a\n cordial admiration of the simple heroism which has marked the\n personal conduct of the President, for we have not yet wholly lost\n the capacity of appreciating such an example of Christian faith\n and manly fortitude. This exemplary picture has been made complete\n by your own contribution to its noble and touching features, on\n which I only forbear to dwell because I am directly addressing\n you.\n\n\nUnder all the conventional solemnities in Mr. Gladstone on such occasions,\nwe are conscious of a sincere feeling that they were in real relation to\nhuman life and all its chances and changes.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII. Colleagues--Northern Cruise--Egypt. (1883)\n\n\n Parran faville della sua virtute\n In non curar d'argento ne d'affanni.\n\n --_Paradiso_, xvii. 83.\n\n Sparks of his worth shall show in the little heed he gives either\n to riches or to heavy toils.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe session of 1883 was marked by one legislative performance of the first\norder, the bill devised against corrupt practices at elections. This\ninvaluable measure was worked through the House of Commons mainly by Sir\nHenry James, the attorney general, whose skill and temper in a business\nthat was made none the easier by the fact of every man in the House\nsupposing himself to understand the subject, excited Mr. Gladstone's\ncordial admiration; it strengthened that peculiarly warm regard in which\nhe held Sir Henry, not only now but even when the evil days of political\nseverance came. The prime minister, though assiduous, as he always was, in\nthe discharge of those routine and secondary duties which can never be\nneglected without damage to the House, had, for the first session in his\ncareer as head of a government, no burden in the shaping of a great bill.\nHe insisted, in spite of some opposition in the cabinet, on accepting a\nmotion pledging parliament to economy (April 3). In a debate on the Congo,\nhe was taken by some to have gone near to giving up the treaty-making\npower of the crown. He had to face more than one of those emergencies that\nwere naturally common for the leader of a party with a zealous radical\nwing represented in his cabinet, and in some measure these occasions beset\nMr. Gladstone from 1869 (M42) onwards. His loyalty and kindness to\ncolleagues who got themselves and him into scrapes by imprudent speeches,\nand his activity and resource in inventing ways out of scrapes, were\nalways unfailing. Often the difficulty was with the Queen, sometimes with\nthe House of Lords, occasionally with the Irish members. Birmingham, for\ninstance, held a grand celebration (June 13) on the twenty-fifth\nanniversary of Mr. Bright's connection as its representative. Mr. Bright\nused strong language about \"Irish rebels,\" and then learned that he would\nbe called to account. He consulted Mr. Gladstone, and from him received a\nreply that exhibits the use of logic as applied to inconvenient displays\nof the sister art of rhetoric:--\n\n\n _To Mr. Bright._\n\n _June 15, 1883._--I have received your note, and I am extremely\n sorry either that you should have personal trouble after your\n great exertions, or that anything should occur to cloud the\n brilliancy or mar the satisfaction of your recent celebration in\n Birmingham. I have looked at the extract from your speech, which\n is to be alleged as the _corpus delicti_, with a jealous eye. It\n seems well to be prepared for the worst. The points are, I think,\n _three_:--1. \"Not a few\" tories are guilty of determined\n obstruction. I cannot conceive it possible that this can be deemed\n a breach of privilege. 2. These members are found 'in alliance'\n with the Irish party. Alliance is often predicated by those who\n disapprove, upon the ground that certain persons have been voting\n together. This I think can hardly be a breach of privilege even in\n cases where it may be disputable or untrue.\n\n But then: 3. This Irish party are \"rebels\" whose oath of\n allegiance is broken by association with the enemies of the\n country. Whether these allegations are true or not, the following\n questions arise:--(a) Can they be proved; (b) Are they allegations\n which would be allowed in debate? I suppose you would agree with\n me that they cannot be proved; and I doubt whether they would be\n allowed in debate. The question whether they are a breach of\n privilege is for the House; but the Speaker would have to say, if\n called upon, whether they were allowable in debate. My impression\n is that he would say no; and I think you would not wish to use\n elsewhere expressions that you could not repeat in the House of\n Commons.\n\n\nThe Speaker has a jotting in his diary which may end this case of a great\nman's excess:--\n\n\n _June 18._--Exciting sitting. Bright's language about Irish rebels.\n Certainly his language was very strong and quite inadmissible if\n spoken within the House. In conversation with Northcote I\n deprecated the taking notice of language outside the House, though\n I could not deny that the House, if it thought fit, might regard\n the words as a breach of privilege. But Northcote was no doubt\n urged by his friends.\n\n\nMr. Chamberlain's was a heavier business, and led to much correspondence\nand difficult conversation in high places. A little of it, containing\ngeneral principles, will probably suffice here:--\n\n\n _To Sir Henry Ponsonby._\n\n _June 22.--Re_ Chamberlain's speech. I am sorry to say I had not\n read the report until I was warned by your letters to Granville\n and to Hamilton, for my sight does not allow me to read largely\n the small type of newspapers. I have now read it, and I must at\n once say with deep regret. We had done our best to keep the Bright\n celebration in harmony with the general tone of opinion by the\n mission which Granville kindly undertook. I am the more sorry\n about this speech, because Chamberlain has this year in parliament\n shown both tact and talent in the management of questions not\n polemical, such as the bankruptcy bill. The speech is open to\n exception from three points of view, as I think--first in relation\n to Bright, secondly in relation to the cabinet, thirdly and most\n especially in relation to the crown, to which the speech did not\n indicate the consciousness of his holding any special relation.\n\n _June. 26._--It appeared to me in considering the case of Mr.\n Chamberlain's speech that by far the best correction would be\n found, if a natural opportunity should offer, in a speech\n differently from himself. I found also that he was\n engaged to preside on Saturday next at the dinner of the Cobden\n Club. I addressed myself therefore to this point, and Mr.\n Chamberlain will revert, on that occasion, to the same line of\n thought.... But, like Granville, I consider that the offence does\n not consist in holding certain opinions, of which in my judgment\n the political force and effect are greatly exaggerated, but in the\n attitude assumed, and the tone and colour given to the speech.\n\n _To Lord Granville._\n\n _July 1, 1883._--I have read with care Chamberlain's speech of last\n night [at the Cobden Club dinner].... Am I right or wrong in\n understanding the speech as follows? He admits without stint that\n in a cabinet concessions may be made as to action, but he seems to\n claim an unlimited liberty of speech. Now I should be as far as\n possible from asserting that under all circumstances speech must\n be confined within the exact limits to which action is tied down.\n But I think the dignity and authority, not to say the honour and\n integrity, of government require that the liberty of speaking\n beyond those limits should be exercised sparingly, reluctantly,\n and with much modesty and reserve. Whereas Chamberlain's\n Birmingham speech exceeded it largely, gratuitously, and with a\n total absence of recognition of the fact that he was not an\n individual but a member of a body. And the claim made last night\n to liberty of speech must be read with the practical illustration\n afforded by the Birmingham discourse, which evidently now stands\n as an instance, a sort of moral instance, of the mode in which\n liberty of speech is to be reconciled with limitation of\n action.(71)\n\n In order to test the question, must we not bear in mind that the\n liberty claimed in one wing of a cabinet may also be claimed in\n another, and that while one minister says I support this measure,\n though it does not go far enough, another may just as lawfully say\n I support this measure, though it goes too far? For example,\n Argyll agreed to the Disturbance Compensation bill in 1880, mainly\n out of regard to his colleagues and their authority. What if he\n had used in the House of Lords language like that I have just\n supposed? Every extravagance of this kind puts weapons into the\n hands of opponents, and weakens the authority of government, which\n is hardly ever too strong, and is often too weak already.\n\n\nIn a letter written some years before when he was leader of the House, Mr.\nGladstone on the subject of the internal discipline of a ministerial corps\ntold one, who was at that time and now his colleague, a little story:--\n\n\n As the subject is one of interest, perhaps you will let me mention\n the incident which first obliged me to reflect upon it. Nearly\n thirty years ago, my leader, Sir R. Peel, agreed in the Irish\n Tithes bills to give 25 per cent. of the tithe to the landlord in\n return for that \"Commutation.\" Thinking this too much (you see\n that twist was then already in me), I happened to say so in a\n private letter to an Irish clergyman. Very shortly after I had a\n note from Peel, which inclosed one from Shaw, his head man in\n Ireland, complaining of my letter as making his work impossible if\n such things were allowed to go on. Sir R. Peel indorsed the\n remonstrance, and I had to sing small. The discipline was very\n tight in those days (and we were in opposition, not in\n government). But it worked well on the whole, and I must say it\n was accompanied on Sir R. Peel's part with a most rigid regard to\n rights of all kinds within the official or quasi-official corps,\n which has somewhat declined in more recent times.\n\n\nA minister had made some reference in a public speech, to what happened in\nthe cabinet of which he was a member. \"I am sure it cannot have occurred\nto you,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote, \"that the cabinet is the operative part of\nthe privy council, that the privy councillor's oath is applicable to its\nproceedings, that this is a very high obligation, and that no one can\ndispense with it except the Queen. I may add that I believe no one is\nentitled even to make a note of the proceedings except the prime minister,\nwho has to report its proceedings on every occasion of its meeting to the\nQueen, and who must by a few scraps assist his memory.\"\n\nBy the end of the session, although its labours had not (M43) been on the\nlevel of either 1881 or 1882, Mr. Gladstone was somewhat strained. On Aug.\n22 he writes to Mrs. Gladstone at Hawarden: \"Yesterday at 41/2 I entered the\nHouse hoping to get out soon and write you a letter, when the Speaker told\nme Northcote was going to raise a debate on the Appropriation bill, and I\nhad to wait, listen, and then to speak for more than an hour, which tired\nme a good deal, finding me weak after sitting till 2.30 the night before,\nand a long cabinet in the interval. Rough work for 73!\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIn September he took a holiday in a shape that, though he was no hearty\nsailor, was always a pleasure and a relief to him. Three letters to the\nQueen tell the story, and give a glimpse of court punctilio:--\n\n\n _On the North Sea, Sept. 15. Posted at Copenhagen, Sept. 16,\n 1883._--Mr. Gladstone presents his humble duty to your Majesty, and\n has to offer his humble apology for not having sought from your\n Majesty the usual gracious permission before setting foot on a\n foreign shore. He embarked on the 8th in a steamer of the Castles\n Company under the auspices of Sir Donald Currie, with no more\n ambitious expectation than that of a cruise among the Western\n Isles. But the extraordinary solidity, so to call it, of a very\n fine ship (the _Pembroke Castle_, 4000 tons, 410 feet long) on the\n water, rendering her in no small degree independent of weather,\n encouraged his fellow-voyagers, and even himself, though a most\n indifferent sailor, to extend their views, and the vessel is now\n on the North Sea running over to Christiansand in Norway, from\n whence it is proposed to go to Copenhagen, with the expectation,\n however, of again touching British soil in the middle of next\n week. Mr. Gladstone humbly trusts that, under these circumstances,\n his omission may be excused.\n\n Mr. Tennyson, who is one of the party, is an excellent sailor, and\n seems to enjoy himself much in the floating castle, as it may be\n termed in a wider sense than that of its appellation on the\n register. The weather has been variable with a heavy roll from the\n Atlantic at the points not sheltered; but the stormy North Sea has\n on the whole behaved extremely well as regards its two besetting\n liabilities to storm and fog.\n\n _Ship __\"__Pembroke Castle,__\"__ Mouth of the Thames. Sept. 20,\n 1883._--Mr. Gladstone with his humble duty reports to your Majesty\n his return this evening from Copenhagen to London. The passage was\n very rapid, and the weather favourable. He had the honour, with\n his wife and daughter and other companions of his voyage, to\n receive an invitation to dine at Fredensborg on Monday. He found\n there the entire circle of illustrious personages who have been\n gathered for some time in a family party, with a very few\n exceptions. The singularly domestic character of this remarkable\n assemblage, and the affectionate intimacy which appeared to\n pervade it, made an impression upon him not less deep than the\n demeanour of all its members, which was so kindly and so simple,\n that even the word condescending could hardly be applied to it.\n Nor must Mr. Gladstone allow himself to omit another striking\n feature of the remarkable picture, in the unrestrained and\n unbounded happiness of the royal children, nineteen in number, who\n appeared like a single family reared under a single roof.\n\n [_The royal party, forty in number, visit the ship._]\n\n The Emperor of Russia proposed the health of your Majesty. Mr.\n Gladstone by arrangement with your Majesty's minister at this\n court, Mr. Vivian, proposed the health of the King and Queen of\n Denmark, and the Emperor and Empress of Russia, and the King and\n Queen of the Hellenes. The King of Denmark did Mr. Gladstone the\n honour to propose his health; and Mr. Gladstone in acknowledging\n this toast, thought he could not do otherwise, though no speeches\n had been made, than express the friendly feeling of Great Britain\n towards Denmark, and the satisfaction with which the British\n people recognised the tie of race which unites them with the\n inhabitants of the Scandinavian countries. Perhaps the most\n vigorous and remarkable portion of the British nation had, Mr.\n Gladstone said, been drawn from these countries. After luncheon,\n the senior imperial and royal personages crowded together into a\n small cabin on the deck to hear Mr. Tennyson read two of his\n poems, several of the younger branches clustering round the doors.\n Between 2 and 3, the illustrious party left the _Pembroke Castle_,\n and in the midst of an animated scene, went on board the King of\n Denmark's yacht, which steamed towards Elsinore.\n\n Mr. Gladstone was much pleased to observe that the Emperor of\n Russia appeared to be entirely released from the immediate\n pressure of his anxieties supposed to weigh much upon his mind.\n The Empress of Russia has the genial and gracious manners which on\n this, and on every occasion, mark H.R.H. the Princess of Wales.\n\n -------------------------------------\n\n _Sept. 22, 1883._--Mr. Gladstone presents his humble duty to your\n Majesty, and has to acknowledge your Majesty's letter of the 20th\n \"giving him full credit for not having reflected at the time\" when\n he decided, as your Majesty believes, to extend his recent cruise\n to Norway and Denmark.\n\n He may humbly state that he had no desire or idea beyond a glance,\n if only for a few hours, at a little of the fine and peculiar\n scenery of Norway. But he is also responsible for having\n acquiesced in the proposal (which originated with Mr. Tennyson) to\n spend a day at Copenhagen, where he happens to have some\n associations of literary interest; for having accepted an\n unexpected invitation to dine with the king some thirty miles off;\n and for having promoted the execution of a wish, again\n unexpectedly communicated to him, that a visit of the illustrious\n party to the _Pembroke Castle_ should be arranged. Mr. Gladstone\n ought probably to have foreseen all these things. With respect to\n the construction put upon his act abroad, Mr. Gladstone ought\n again, perhaps, to have foreseen that, in countries habituated to\n more important personal meetings, which are uniformly declared to\n be held in the interests of general peace, his momentary and\n unpremeditated contact with the sovereigns at Fredensborg would be\n denounced, or suspected of a mischievous design. He has, however,\n some consolation in finding that, in England at least, such a\n suspicion appears to have been confined to two secondary journals,\n neither of which has ever found (so far as he is aware) in any act\n of his anything but guilt and folly.\n\n Thus adopting, to a great extent, your Majesty's view, Mr.\n Gladstone can confirm your Majesty's belief that (with the\n exception of a sentence addressed by him to the King of the\n Hellenes singly respecting Bulgaria), there was on all hands an\n absolute silence in regard to public affairs....\n\n\nIn proposing at Kirkwall the health of the poet who was his fellow-guest\non the cruise, Mr. Gladstone let fall a hint--a significant and perhaps a\njust one--on the comparative place of politics and letters, the difference\nbetween the statesman and orator and the poet. \"Mr. Tennyson's life and\nlabour,\" he said, \"correspond in point of time as nearly as possible to my\nown; but he has worked in a higher field, and his work will be more\ndurable. We public men play a part which places us much in view of our\ncountrymen, but the words which we speak have wings and fly away and\ndisappear.... But the Poet Laureate has written his own song on the hearts\nof his countrymen that can never die.\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIt was said in 1884 that the organisation of Egypt was a subject, whether\nregarded from the English or the European point of view, that was probably\nmore complicated and more fraught with possible dangers in the future,\nthan any question of foreign policy with which England had had to deal for\nthe last fifty years or more.\n\nThe arguments against prolonged English occupation were tolerably clear.\nIt would freeze all cordiality between ourselves and the French. It would\nmake us a Mediterranean military power. In case of war, the necessity of\nholding Egypt would weaken us. In diplomacy it would expose fresh surface\nto new and hostile combinations. Yet, giving their full weight to every\none of these considerations, a British statesman was confronted by one of\nthose intractable dilemmas that make up the material of a good half of\nhuman history. The Khedive could not stand by himself. The Turk would not,\nand ought not to be endured for his protector. Some other European power\nwould step in and block the English road. Would common prudence in such a\ncase suffer England to acquiesce and stand aside? Did not subsisting\nobligations also confirm the precepts of policy and self-interest? In many\nminds this reasoning was clenched and clamped by the sacrifices that\nEngland had made when she took, and took alone, the initial military step.\n\nEgyptian affairs were one of the heaviest loads that (M44) weighed upon\nMr. Gladstone during the whole of 1884. One day in the autumn of this\nyear, towards the end of the business before the cabinet, a minister asked\nif there was anything else. \"No,\" said Mr. Gladstone with sombre irony as\nhe gathered up his papers, \"we have done our Egyptian business, and we are\nan Egyptian government.\" His general position was sketched in a letter to\nLord Granville (Mar. 22, 1884): \"In regard to the Egyptian question\nproper, I am conscious of being moved by three powerful considerations.\n(1) Respect for European law, and for the peace of eastern Europe,\nessentially connected with its observance. (2) The just claims of the\nKhedive, who has given us no case against him, and his people as connected\nwith him. (3) Indisposition to extend the responsibilities of this\ncountry. On the first two I feel very stiff. On the third I should have\ndue regard to my personal condition as a vanishing quantity.\"\n\nThe question of the continuance of the old dual control by England and\nFrance was raised almost immediately after the English occupation began,\nbut English opinion supported or stimulated the cabinet in refusing to\nrestore a form of co-operation that had worked well originally in the\nhands of Baring and de Blignieres, but had subsequently betrayed its\ninherent weakness. France resumed what is diplomatically styled liberty of\naction in Egypt; and many months were passed in negotiations, the most\nentangled in which a British government was ever engaged. Why did not\nEngland, impatient critics of Mr. Gladstone and his cabinet inquire, at\nonce formally proclaim a protectorate? Because it would have been a direct\nbreach of her moral obligations of good faith to Europe. These were\nundisputed and indisputable. It would have brought her within instant\nreach of a possible war with France, for which the sinister and interested\napproval of Germany would have been small compensation.\n\nThe issue lay between annexation and withdrawal,--annexation to be veiled\nand indirect, withdrawal to be cautious and conditional. No member of the\ncabinet at this time seems to have listened with any favour whatever to\nthe mention of annexation. Apart from other objections, it would\nundeniably have been a flagrant breach of solemn international\nengagements. The cabinet was pledged up to the lips to withdrawal, and\nwhen Lord Hartington talked to the House of Commons of the last British\nsoldier quitting Egypt in a few months, nobody ever doubted then or since\nthat he was declaring the sincere intention of the cabinet. Nor was any\ndoubt possible that the intention of the cabinet entirely coincided at\nthat time with the opinion and wishes of the general public. The\noperations in Egypt had not been popular,(72) and the national temper was\nstill as hostile to all expansion as when it cast out Lord Beaconsfield.\nWithdrawal, however, was beset with inextricable difficulties. Either\nwithdrawal or annexation would have simplified the position and brought\nits own advantages. Neither was possible. The British government after\nTel-el-Kebir vainly strove to steer a course that would combine the\nadvantages of both. Say what they would, military occupation was taken to\nmake them responsible for everything that happened in Egypt. This\nencouraged the view that they should give orders to Egypt, and make Egypt\nobey. But then direct and continuous interference with the Egyptian\nadministration was advance in a path that could only end in annexation. To\ngovern Egypt from London through a native ministry, was in fact nothing\nbut annexation, and annexation in its clumsiest and most troublesome\nshape. Such a policy was least of all to be reconciled with the avowed\npolicy of withdrawal. To treat native ministers as mere ciphers and\npuppets, and then to hope to leave them at the end with authority enough\nto govern the country by themselves, was pure delusion.\n\nSo much for our relations with Egypt internally. Then came Europe and the\nPowers, and the regulation of a financial situation of indescribable\ncomplexity. \"I sometimes fear,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote to Lord Granville\n(Dec. 8, (M45) 1884), \"that some of the foreign governments have the same\nnotion of me that Nicholas was supposed to have of Lord Aberdeen. But\nthere is no one in the cabinet less disposed than I am to knuckle down to\nthem in this Egyptian matter, about which they, except Italy, behave so\nill, some of them without excuse.\" \"As to Bismarck,\" he said, \"it is a\ncase of sheer audacity, of which he has an unbounded stock.\" Two months\nbefore he had complained to Lord Granville of the same powerful personage:\n\"Ought not some notice to be taken of Bismarck's impudent reference to the\nEnglish exchequer? Ought you to have such a remark in your possession\nwithout protest? He coolly assumes in effect that we are responsible for\nall the financial wants and occasions of Egypt.\"\n\nThe sensible reader would resist any attempt to drag him into the\nSerbonian bog of Egyptian finance. Nor need I describe either the\nprotracted conference of the European Powers, or the mission of Lord\nNorthbrook. To this able colleague, Mr. Gladstone wrote on the eve of his\ndeparture (Aug. 29, 1884):--\n\n\n I cannot let you quit our shores without a word of valediction.\n Your colleagues are too deeply interested to be impartial judges\n of your mission. But they certainly cannot be mistaken in their\n appreciation of the generosity and courage which could alone have\n induced you to undertake it. Our task in Egypt generally may not\n unfairly be called an impossible task, and with the impossible no\n man can successfully contend. But we are well satisfied that\n whatever is possible, you will achieve; whatever judgment,\n experience, firmness, gentleness can do, will be done. Our\n expectations from the nature of the case must be moderate; but be\n assured, they will not be the measure of our gratitude. All good\n go with you.\n\n\nLord Northbrook's report when in due time it came, engaged the prime\nminister's anxious consideration, but it could not be carried further.\nWhat the Powers might agree to, parliament would not look at. The\nsituation was one of the utmost delicacy and danger, as anybody who is\naware of the diplomatic embarrassments of it knows. An agreement with\nFrance about the Suez Canal came to nothing. A conference upon finance\ncame to nothing. Bismarck was out of humour with England, partly from his\ndislike of certain exalted English personages and influences at his own\ncourt, partly because it suited him that France and England should be bad\nfriends, partly because, as he complained, whenever he tried to found a\ncolony, we closed in upon him. He preached a sermon on _do ut des_, and\nwhile scouting the idea of any real differences with this country, he\nhinted that if we could not accommodate him in colonial questions, he\nmight not find it in his power to accommodate us in European questions.\nMr. Gladstone declared for treating every German claim in an equitable\nspirit, but said we had our own colonial communities to consider.\n\nIn March 1885, after negotiations that threatened to be endless, the\nLondon Convention was signed and the riddle of the financial sphinx was\nsolved. This made possible the coming years of beneficent reform. The\nwonder is, says a competent observer, how in view of the indifference of\nmost of the Powers to the welfare of Egypt and the bitter annoyance of\nFrance at our position in that country, the English government ever\nsucceeded in inducing all the parties concerned to agree to so reasonable\nan arrangement.(73)\n\nMeanwhile, as we shall see all too soon, the question of Egypt proper, as\nit was then called, had brought up the question of the Soudan, and with it\nan incident that made what Mr. Gladstone called \"the blackest day since\nthe Phoenix Park.\" In 1884 the government still seemed prosperous. The\nordinary human tendency to croak never dies, especially in the politics of\nparty. Men talked of humiliation abroad, ruin at home, agricultural\ninterests doomed, trade at a standstill--calamities all obviously due to a\ngovernment without spirit, and a majority with no independence. But then\nhumiliation, to be sure, only meant jealousy in other countries because we\ndeclined to put ourselves in the wrong, and to be hoodwinked into unwise\nalliances. Ruin only meant reform without revolution. Doom meant an\ninappreciable falling off in the vast volume of our trade.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VIII. Reform. (1884)\n\n\n Decision by majorities is as much an expedient as lighting by gas.\n In adopting it as a rule, we are not realising perfection, but\n bowing to an imperfection. It has the great merit of avoiding, and\n that by a test perfectly definite, the last resort to violence;\n and of making force itself the servant instead of the master of\n authority. But our country rejoices in the belief that she does\n not decide all things by majorities.--GLADSTONE (1858).\n\n\n\nI\n\n\n\"The word procedure,\" said Mr. Gladstone to a club of young political\nmissionaries in 1884, \"has in it something homely, and it is difficult for\nany one, except those who pass their lives within the walls of parliament,\nto understand how vital and urgent a truth it is, that there is no more\nurgent demand, there is no aim or purpose more absolutely essential to the\nfuture victories and the future efficiency of the House of Commons, than\nthat it should effect, with the support of the nation--for it can be\neffected in no other way--some great reform in the matter of its\nprocedure.\" He spoke further of the \"absolute and daily-growing necessity\nof what I will describe as a great internal reform of the House of\nCommons, quite distinct from that reform beyond its doors on which our\nhearts are at present especially set.\" Reform from within and reform from\nwithout were the two tasks, neither of them other than difficult in\nthemselves and both made supremely difficult by the extraordinary spirit\nof faction at that time animating the minority. The internal reform had\nbeen made necessary, as Mr. Gladstone expressed it, by systematised\nobstruction, based upon the abuse of ancient and generous rules, under\nwhich system the House of Commons \"becomes more and more the slave of some\nof the poorest and most insignificant among its members.\" Forty years\nbefore he told the provost of Oriel, \"The forms of parliament are little\nmore than a mature expression of the principles of justice in their\napplication to the proceedings of deliberative bodies, having it for their\nobject to secure freedom and reflection, and well fitted to attain that\nobject.\" These high ideals had been gradually lowered, for Mr. Parnell had\nfound out that the rules which had for their object the security of\nfreedom and reflection, could be still more effectually wrested to objects\nthe very opposite.\n\nIn Mr. Gladstone's first session (1833) 395 members (the speaker excluded)\nspoke, and the total number of speeches was 5765. Fifty years later, in\nthe session of 1883, the total number of speeches had risen to 21,160. The\nremedies proposed from time to time in this parliament by Mr. Gladstone\nwere various, and were the occasion of many fierce and stubborn conflicts.\nBut the subject is in the highest degree technical, and only intelligible\nto those who, as Mr. Gladstone said, \"pass their lives within the walls of\nparliament\"--perhaps not by any means to all even of them. His papers\ncontain nothing of interest or novelty upon the question either of\ndevolution or of the compulsory stoppage of debate. We may as well,\ntherefore, leave it alone, only observing that the necessity for the\nclosure was probably the most unpalatable of all the changes forced on Mr.\nGladstone by change in social and political circumstance. To leave the\nsubject alone is not to ignore its extreme importance, either in the\neffect of revolution in procedure upon the character of the House, and its\npower of despatching and controlling national business; or as an\nindication that the old order was yielding in the political sphere as\neverywhere else to the conditions of a new time.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe question of extending to householders in the country the franchise\nthat in 1867 had been conferred on householders in boroughs, had been\nfirst pressed with eloquence and resolution by Mr. Trevelyan. In 1876 he\nintroduced two resolutions, one for extended franchise, the other for a\nnew (M46) arrangement of seats, made necessary by the creation of the new\nvoters. In a tory parliament he had, of course, no chance. Mr. Gladstone,\nnot naturally any more ardent for change in political machinery than Burke\nor Canning had been, was in no hurry about it, but was well aware that the\ntriumphant parliament of 1880 could not be allowed to expire without the\neffective adoption by the government of proposals in principle such as\nthose made by Mr. Trevelyan in 1876. One wing of the cabinet hung back.\nMr. Gladstone himself, reading the signs in the political skies, felt that\nthe hour had struck; the cabinet followed, and the bill was framed. Never,\nsaid Mr. Gladstone, was a bill so large in respect of the numbers to have\nvotes; so innocent in point of principle, for it raised no new questions\nand sprang from no new principles. It went, he contended and most truly\ncontended, to the extreme of consideration for opponents, and avoided\nseveral points that had especial attractions for friends. So likewise, the\ngeneral principles on which redistribution of seats would be governed,\nwere admittedly framed in a conservative spirit.\n\nThe comparative magnitude of the operation was thus described by Mr.\nGladstone (Feb. 28, 1884):--\n\n\n In 1832 there was passed what was considered a Magna Charta of\n British liberties; but that Magna Charta of British liberties\n added, according to the previous estimate of Lord John Russell,\n 500,000, while according to the results considerably less than\n 500,000 were added to the entire constituency of the three\n countries. After 1832 we come to 1866. At that time the total\n constituency of the United Kingdom reached 1,364,000. By the bills\n which were passed between 1867 and 1869 that number was raised to\n 2,448,000. Under the action of the present law the constituency\n has reached in round numbers what I would call 3,000,000. This\n bill, if it passes as presented, will add to the English\n constituency over 1,300,000 persons. It will add to the Scotch\n constituency, Scotland being at present rather better provided in\n this respect than either of the other countries, over 200,000, and\n to the Irish constituency over 400,000; or in the main, to the\n present aggregate constituency of the United Kingdom taken at\n 3,000,000 it will add 2,000,000 more, nearly twice as much as was\n added since 1867, and more than four times as much as was added in\n 1832.\n\n\nThe bill was read a second time (April 7) by the overwhelming majority of\n340 against 210. Even those who most disliked the measure admitted that a\nmajority of this size could not be made light of, though they went on in\ncharity to say that it did not represent the honest opinion of those who\ncomposed it. It was in fact, as such persons argued, the strongest proof\nof the degradation brought into our politics by the Act of 1867. \"All the\nbribes of Danby or of Walpole or of Pelham,\" cried one excited critic,\n\"all the bullying of the Tudors, all the lobbying of George III., would\nhave been powerless to secure it in the most corrupt or the most servile\ndays of the ancient House of Commons.\"(74)\n\nOn the third reading the opposition disappeared from the House, and on Mr.\nGladstone's prompt initiative it was placed on record in the journals that\nthe bill had been carried by a unanimous verdict. It went to the Lords,\nand by a majority, first of 59 and then of 50, they put what Mr. Gladstone\nmildly called \"an effectual stoppage on the bill, or in other words did\npractically reject it.\" The plain issue, if we can call it plain, was\nthis. What the tories, with different degrees of sincerity, professed to\ndread was that the election might take place on the new franchise, but\nwith an unaltered disposition of parliamentary seats. At heart the bulk of\nthem were as little friendly to a lowered franchise in the counties, as\nthey had been in the case of the towns before Mr. Disraeli educated them.\nBut this was a secret dangerous to let out, for the enfranchised workers\nin the towns would never understand why workers in the villages should not\nhave a vote. Apart from this, the tory leaders believed that unless the\nallotment of seats went with the addition of a couple of million new\nvoters, the prospect would be ruinously unfavourable to their party, and\nthey offered determined resistance to the chance of a jockeying operation\nof this (M47) kind. At least one very eminent man among them had privately\nmade up his mind that the proceeding supposed to be designed by their\nopponents--their distinct professions notwithstanding--would efface the tory\nparty for thirty years to come. Mr. Gladstone and his government on the\nother hand agreed, on grounds of their own and for reasons of their own,\nthat the two changes should come into operation together. What they\ncontended was, that to tack redistribution on to franchise, was to scotch\nor kill franchise. \"I do not hesitate to say,\" Mr. Gladstone told his\nelectors, \"that those who are opposing us, and making use of this topic of\nredistribution of seats as a means for defeating the franchise bill, know\nas well as we do that, had we been such idiots and such dolts as to\npresent to parliament a bill for the combined purpose, or to bring in two\nbills for the two purposes as one measure--I say, they know as well as we\ndo, that a disgraceful failure would have been the result of our folly,\nand that we should have been traitors to you, and to the cause we had in\nhand.\"(75) Disinterested onlookers thought there ought to be no great\ndifficulty in securing the result that both sides desired. As the Duke of\nArgyll put it to Mr. Gladstone, if in private business two men were to\ncome to a breach, when standing so near to one another in aim and\nprofession, they would be shut up in bedlam. This is just what the\njudicious reader will think to-day.\n\nThe controversy was transported from parliament to the platform, and a\nvigorous agitation marked the autumn recess. It was a double agitation.\nWhat began as a campaign on behalf of the rural householder, threatened to\nend as one against hereditary legislators. It is a well-known advantage in\nmovements of this sort to be not only for, but also against, somebody or\nsomething; against a minister, by preference, or if not an individual,\nthen against a body. A hereditary legislature in a community that has\nreached the self-governing stage is an anachronism that makes the easiest\nof all marks for mockery and attack, so long as it lasts. Nobody can doubt\nthat if Mr. Gladstone had been the frantic demagogue or fretful\nrevolutionist that his opponents thought, he now had an excellent chance\nof bringing the question of the House of Lords irresistibly to the front.\nAs it was, in the midst of the storm raised by his lieutenants and\nsupporters all over the country, he was the moderating force, elaborately\nappealing, as he said, to the reason rather than the fears of his\nopponents.\n\nOne reproachful passage in his speeches this autumn acquires a rather\npeculiar significance in the light of the events that were in the coming\nyears to follow. He is dealing with the argument that the hereditary House\nprotects the nation against fleeting opinions:--\n\n\n How is it with regard to the solid and permanent opinion of the\n nation? We have had twelve parliaments since the Reform Act,--I\n have a right to say so, as I have sat in every one of them,--and\n the opinion, the national opinion, has been exhibited in the\n following manner. Ten of those parliaments have had a liberal\n majority. The eleventh parliament was the one that sat from 1841\n to 1847. It was elected as a tory parliament; but in 1846 it put\n out the conservative government of Sir Robert Peel, and put in and\n supported till its dissolution, the liberal government of Lord\n John Russell. That is the eleventh parliament. But then there is\n the twelfth parliament, and that is one that you and I know a good\n deal about [Lord Beaconsfield's parliament], for we talked largely\n on the subject of its merits and demerits, whichever they may be,\n at the time of the last election. That parliament was, I admit, a\n tory parliament from the beginning to the end. But I want to know,\n looking back for a period of more than fifty years, which\n represented the solid permanent conviction of the nation?--the ten\n parliaments that were elected upon ten out of the twelve\n dissolutions, or the one parliament that chanced to be elected\n from the disorganized state of the liberal party in the early part\n of the year 1874? Well, here are ten parliaments on the one side;\n here is one parliament on the other side.... The House of Lords\n was in sympathy with the one parliament, and was in opposition ...\n to the ten parliaments. And yet you are told, when--we will say for\n forty-five years out of fifty--practically the nation has\n manifested its liberal tendencies by the election of liberal\n parliaments, and once only has chanced to elect a thoroughly tory\n parliament, you are told that it is the thoroughly tory parliament\n that represents the solid and permanent opinion of the\n country.(76)\n\n\nIn time a curious thing, not yet adequately explained, fell out, for the\nextension of the franchise in 1867 and now in 1884 resulted in a reversal\nof the apparent law of things that had ruled our political parties through\nthe epoch that Mr. Gladstone has just sketched. The five parliaments since\n1884 have not followed the line of the ten parliaments preceding,\nnotwithstanding the enlargement of direct popular power.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIn August Mr. Gladstone submitted to the Queen a memorandum on the\npolitical situation. It was much more elaborate than the ordinary official\nsubmissions. Lord Granville was the only colleague who had seen it, and\nMr. Gladstone was alone responsible for laying it before the sovereign. It\nis a masterly statement of the case, starting from the assumption for the\nsake of argument that the tories were right and the liberals wrong as to\nthe two bills; then proceeding on the basis of a strongly expressed desire\nto keep back a movement for organic change; next urging the signs that\nsuch a movement would go forward with irresistible force if the bill were\nagain rejected; and concluding thus:--\n\n\n I may say in conclusion that there is no personal act if it be\n compatible with personal honour and likely to contribute to an end\n which I hold very dear, that I would not gladly do for the purpose\n of helping to close the present controversy, and in closing it to\n prevent the growth of one probably more complex and more\n formidable.\n\n\nThis document, tempered, unrhetorical, almost dispassionate, was the\nstarting-point of proceedings that, after enormous difficulties had been\nsurmounted by patience and perseverance, working through his power in\nparliament and his authority in the country, ended in final pacification\nand a sound political settlement. It was Mr. Gladstone's statesmanship\nthat brought this pacification into sight and within reach.\n\nThe Queen was deeply struck both by the force of his arguments and the\nearnest tone in which they were pressed. Though doubting whether there was\nany strong desire for a change in the position of the House of Lords,\nstill she \"did not shut her eyes to the possible gravity of the situation\"\n(Aug. 31). She seemed inclined to take some steps for ascertaining the\nopinion of the leaders of opposition, with a view to inducing them to\nmodify their programme. The Duke of Richmond visited Balmoral (Sept. 13),\nbut when Mr. Gladstone, then himself on Deeside, heard what had passed in\nthe direction of compromise, he could only say, \"Waste of breath!\" To all\nsuggestions of a dissolution on the case in issue, Mr. Gladstone said to a\nconfidential emissary from Balmoral:--\n\n\n Never will I be a party to dissolving in order to determine\n whether the Lords or the Commons were right upon the Franchise\n bill. If I have anything to do with dissolution, it will be a\n dissolution upon organic change in the House of Lords. Should this\n bill be again rejected in a definite manner, there will be only\n two courses open to me, one to cut out of public life, which I\n shall infinitely prefer; the other to become a supporter of\n organic change in the House of Lords, which I hate and which I am\n making all this fuss in order to avoid. We have a few weeks before\n us to try and avert the mischief. After a second rejection it will\n be too late. There is perhaps the alternative of advising a large\n creation of peers; but to this there are great objections, even if\n the Queen were willing. I am not at present sure that I could\n bring myself to be a party to the adoption of a plan like that of\n 1832.\n\n\nWhen people talked to him of dissolution as a means of bringing the Lords\nto account, he replied in scorn: \"A marvellous conception! On such a\ndissolution, if the country disapproved of the conduct of its\nrepresentatives, it would cashier them; but, if it disapproved of the\nconduct of the peers, it would simply have to see them resume their place\nof power, to employ it to the best of their ability as opportunity might\nserve, in thwarting the desires of the country expressed through its\nrepresentatives.\"\n\nIt was reported to Mr. Gladstone that his speeches in (M48) Scotland\n(though they were marked by much restraint) created some displeasure at\nBalmoral. He wrote to Lord Granville (Sept. 26):--\n\n\n The Queen does not know the facts. If she did, she would have\n known that while I have been compelled to deviate from the\n intention, of speaking only to constituents which (with much\n difficulty) I kept until Aberdeen, I have thereby (and again with\n much difficulty in handling the audiences, every one of which\n would have wished a different course of proceeding) been enabled\n to do much in the way of keeping the question of organic change in\n the House of Lords out of the present stage of the controversy.\n\n\nSir Henry Ponsonby, of course at the Queen's instigation, was\nindefatigable and infinitely ingenious in inventing devices of possible\ncompromise between Lords and Commons, or between Lords and ministers, such\nas might secure the passing of franchise and yet at the same time secure\nthe creation of new electoral areas before the extended franchise should\nbecome operative. The Queen repeated to some members of the opposition--she\ndid not at this stage communicate directly with Lord Salisbury--the essence\nof Mr. Gladstone's memorandum of August, and no doubt conveyed the\nimpression that it had made upon her own mind. Later correspondence\nbetween her secretary and the Duke of Richmond set up a salutary ferment\nin what had not been at first a very promising quarter.\n\nMeanwhile Mr. Gladstone was hard at work in other directions. He was\nurgent (Oct. 2) that Lord Granville should make every effort to bring more\npeers into the fold to save the bill when it reappeared in the autumn\nsession. He had himself \"garnered in a rich harvest\" of bishops in July.\nOn previous occasions he had plied the episcopal bench with political\nappeals, and this time he wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury:--\n\n\n _July 2, 1884._--I should have felt repugnance and scruple about\n addressing your Grace at any time on any subject of a political\n nature, if it were confined within the ordinary limits of such\n subjects. But it seems impossible to refuse credit to the\n accounts, which assure us that the peers of the opposition, under\n Lord Salisbury and his coadjutors, are determined to use all their\n strength and influence for the purpose of throwing out the\n Franchise bill in the House of Lords; and thus of entering upon a\n conflict with the House of Commons, from which at each step in the\n proceeding it may probably become more difficult to retire, and\n which, if left to its natural course, will probably develop itself\n into a constitutional crisis of such an order, as has not occurred\n since 1832....\n\n\nTo Tennyson, the possessor of a spiritual power even more than\narchiepiscopal, who had now a place among peers temporal, he addressed a\nremonstrance (July 6):--\n\n\n ... Upon consideration I cannot help writing a line, for I must\n hope you will reconsider your intention. The best mode in which I\n can support a suggestion seemingly so audacious is by informing\n you, that all sober-minded conservative peers are in great dismay\n at this wild proceeding of Lord Salisbury; that the ultra-radicals\n and Parnellites, on the other hand, are in a state of glee, as\n they believe, and with good reason, that the battle once begun\n will end in some great humiliation to the House of Lords, or some\n important change in its composition. That (to my knowledge)\n various bishops of conservative leanings are, on this account,\n going to vote with the government--as may be the case with lay\n peers also. That you are the _only_ peer, so far as I know,\n associated with liberal ideas or the liberal party, who hesitates\n to vote against Lord Salisbury.\n\n\nIn the later stage of this controversy, Tennyson shot the well-known lines\nat him--\n\n\n Steersman, be not precipitate in thine act\n Of steering, for the river here, my friend,\n Parts in two channels, moving to one end--\n This goes straight forward to the cataract:\n That streams about the bend.\n But tho' the cataract seems the nearer way,\n Whate'er the crowd on either bank may say,\n Take thou \"the bend,\" 'twill save thee many a day.\n\n\nTo a poet who made to his generation such exquisite gifts of beauty and\npleasure, the hardest of party-men may pardon unseasonable fears about\nfranchise and one-horse constituencies. As matter of fact and in plain\nprose, this (M49) taking of the bend was exactly what the steersman had\nbeen doing, so as to keep other people out of cataracts.\n\n\"Then why should not Lord Granville try his hand on ambassadors, pressing\nthem to save their order from a tempest that must strain and might wreck\nit?\" To Mr. Chamberlain, who was in his element, or in one of his\nelements, Mr. Gladstone wrote (Oct. 8):--\n\n\n I see that Salisbury by his declaration in the _Times_ of\n Saturday, that the Lords are to contend for the simultaneous\n passing of the two bills, has given you an excellent subject for\n denunciation, and you may safely denounce him to your heart's\n content. But I earnestly hope that you will leave us all elbow\n room on other questions which _may_ arise. If you have seen my\n letters (virtually) to the Queen, I do not think you will have\n found reason for alarm in them. I am sorry that Hartington the\n other day used the word compromise, a word which has never passed\n my lips, though I believe he meant nothing wrong. If we could find\n anything which, though surrendering nothing substantial, would\n build a bridge for honourable and moderate men to retreat by, I am\n sure you would not object to it. But I have a much stronger plea\n for your reserve than any request of my own. It is this, that the\n cabinet has postponed discussing the matter until Wednesday simply\n in order that you may be present and take your share. They meet at\n twelve. I shall venture to count on your doing nothing to narrow\n the ground left open to us, which is indeed but a stinted one.\n\n\nThree days later (Oct. 11) the Queen writing to the prime minister was\nable to mark a further stage:--\n\n\n Although the strong expressions used by ministers in their recent\n speeches have made the task of conciliation undertaken by the\n Queen a most difficult one, she is so much impressed with the\n importance of the issue at stake, that she has persevered in her\n endeavours, and has obtained from the leaders of the opposition an\n expression of their readiness to negotiate on the basis of Lord\n Hartington's speech at Hanley. In the hope that this _may_ lead to\n a compromise, the Queen has suggested that Lord Hartington may\n enter into communication with Lord Salisbury, and she trusts, from\n Mr. Gladstone's telegram received this morning, that he will\n empower Lord Hartington to discuss the possibility of an agreement\n with Lord Salisbury.\n\n\nIn acknowledgment, Mr. Gladstone offered his thanks for all her Majesty's\n\"well-timed efforts to bring about an accommodation.\" He could not,\nhowever, he proceeded, feel sanguine as to obtaining any concession from\nthe leaders, but he is very glad that Lord Hartington should try.\n\nHappily, and as might have been expected by anybody who remembered the\naction of the sensible peers who saved the Reform bill in 1832, the rash\nand headstrong men in high places in the tory party were not allowed to\nhave their own way. Before the autumn was over, prudent members of the\nopposition became uneasy. They knew that in substance the conclusion was\nforegone, but they knew also that just as in their own body there was a\ndivision between hothead and moderate, so in the cabinet they could count\nupon a whig section, and probably upon the prime minister as well. They\nnoted his words spoken in July, \"It is not our desire to see the bill\ncarried by storm and tempest. It is our desire to see it win its way by\npersuasion and calm discussion to the rational minds of men.\"(77)\n\nMeanwhile Sir Michael Hicks Beach had already, with the knowledge and\nwithout the disapproval of other leading men on the tory side, suggested\nan exchange of views to Lord Hartington, who was warmly encouraged by the\ncabinet to carry on communications, as being a person peculiarly fitted\nfor the task, \"enjoying full confidence on one side,\" as Mr. Gladstone\nsaid to the Queen, \"and probably more on the other side than any other\nminister could enjoy.\" These two cool and able men took the extension of\ncounty franchise for granted, and their conferences turned pretty\nexclusively on redistribution. Sir Michael pressed the separation of urban\nfrom rural areas, and what was more specifically important was his\nadvocacy of single-member or one-horse constituencies. His own long\nexperience of a scattered agricultural division had convinced him that\nsuch areas with household suffrage would be unworkable. Lord Hartington\nknew the advantage of two-member constituencies (M50) for his party,\nbecause they made an opening for one whig candidate and one radical. But\nhe did not make this a question of life or death, and the ground was\nthoroughly well hoed and raked. Lord Salisbury, to whom the nature of\nthese communications had been made known by the colleague concerned, told\nhim of the suggestion from the Queen, and said that he and Sir Stafford\nNorthcote had unreservedly accepted it. So far the cabinet had found the\nseveral views in favour with their opponents as to electoral areas, rather\nmore sweeping and radical than their own had been, and they hoped that on\nthe basis thus informally laid, they might proceed to the more developed\nconversation with the two official leaders. Then the tory ultras\ninterposed.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOn the last day of October the Queen wrote to Mr. Gladstone from\nBalmoral:--\n\n\n The Queen thinks that it would be a means of arriving at some\n understanding if the leaders of the parties in both Houses could\n exchange their views personally. The Duke of Argyll or any other\n person unconnected for the present with the government or the\n opposition might be employed in bringing about a meeting, and in\n assisting to solve difficulties. The Queen thinks the government\n should in any project forming the basis of resolutions on\n redistribution to be proposed to the House, distinctly define\n their plans at such a personal conference. The Queen believes that\n were assurance given that the redistribution would not be wholly\n inimical to the prospects of the conservative party, their\n concurrence might be obtained. The Queen feels most strongly that\n it is of the utmost importance that in this serious crisis such\n means, even if unusual, should be tried, and knowing how fully Mr.\n Gladstone recognises the great danger that might arise by\n prolonging the conflict, the Queen _earnestly_ trusts that he will\n avail himself of such means to obviate it.\n\n\nThe Queen then wrote to Lord Salisbury in the same sense in which she had\nwritten to the prime minister. Lord Salisbury replied that it would give\nhim great pleasure to consult with anybody the Queen might desire, and\nthat in obedience to her commands he would do all that lay in him to bring\nthe controversy finally to a just and honourable issue. He went on however\nto say, in the caustic vein that was one of his ruling traits, that while\ncheerfully complying with the Queen's wishes, he thought it right to add\nthat, so far as his information went, no danger attached to the\nprolongation of the controversy for a considerable time, nor did he\nbelieve that there was any real excitement in the country about it. The\nQueen in replying (Nov. 5) said that she would at once acquaint Mr.\nGladstone with what he had said.\n\nThe autumn session began, and the Franchise bill was introduced again.\nThree days later, in consequence of a communication from the other camp,\nthe debate on the second reading was conciliatory, but the tories won a\nbye-election, and the proceedings in committee became menacing and\nclouded. Discrepancies abounded in the views of the opposition upon\nredistribution. When the third reading came (Nov. 11), important men on\nthe tory side insisted on the production of a Seats bill, and declared\nthere must be no communication with the enemy. Mr. Gladstone was\nelaborately pacific. If he could not get peace, he said, at least let it\nbe recorded that he desired peace. The parleys of Lord Hartington and Sir\nMichael Hicks Beach came to an end.\n\nMr. Gladstone, late one night soon after this (Nov. 14), had a long\nconversation with Sir Stafford Northcote at the house of a friend. He had\nthe authority of the cabinet (not given for this special interview) to\npromise the introduction of a Seats bill before the committee stage of the\nFranchise bill in the Lords, provided he was assured that it could be done\nwithout endangering or retarding franchise. Northcote and Mr. Gladstone\nmade good progress on the principles of redistribution. Then came an\nawkward message from Lord Salisbury that the Lords could not let the\nFranchise bill through, until they got the Seats bill from the Commons. So\nnegotiations were again broken off.\n\nThe only hope now was that a sufficient number of Lord Salisbury's\nadherents would leave him in the lurch, if he (M51) did not close with\nwhat was understood to be Mr. Gladstone's engagement, to procure and press\na Seats bill as soon as ever franchise was out of danger. So it happened,\nand the door that had thus been shut, speedily opened. Indirect\ncommunication reached the treasury bench that seemed to show the leaders\nof opposition to be again alive. There were many surmises, everybody was\nexcited, and two great tory leaders in the Lords called on Lord Granville\none day, anxious for a _modus vivendi_. Mr. Gladstone in the Commons, in\nconformity with a previous decision of the cabinet, declared the\nwillingness of the government to produce a bill or explain its provisions,\non receiving a reasonable guarantee that the Franchise bill would be\npassed before the end of the sittings. The ultras of the opposition still\ninsisted on making bets all round that the Franchise bill would not become\nlaw; besides betting, they declared they would die on the floor of the\nHouse in resisting an accommodation. A meeting of the party was summoned\nat the Carlton club for the purpose of declaring war to the knife, and\nLord Salisbury was reported to hold to his determination. This resolve,\nhowever, proved to have been shaken by Mr. Gladstone's language on a\nprevious day. The general principles of redistribution had been\nsufficiently sifted, tested, and compared to show that there was no\ninsuperable discrepancy of view. It was made clear to Lord Salisbury\ncircuitously, that though the government required adequate assurances of\nthe safety of franchise before presenting their scheme upon seats, this\ndid not preclude private and confidential illumination. So the bill was\nread a second time.\n\nAll went prosperously forward. On November 19, Lord Salisbury and Sir S.\nNorthcote came to Downing Street in the afternoon, took tea with the prime\nminister, and had a friendly conversation for an hour in which much ground\nwas covered. The heads of the government scheme were discussed and handed\nto the opposition leaders. Mr. Gladstone was well satisfied. He was much\nstruck, he said after, with the quickness of the tory leader, and found it\na pleasure to deal with so acute a man. Lord Salisbury, for his part, was\ninterested in the novelty of the proceeding, for no precedent could be\nfound in our political or party history for the discussion of a measure\nbefore its introduction between the leaders of the two sides. This novelty\nstirred his curiosity, while he also kept a sharp eye on the main party\nchance. He proved to be entirely devoid of respect for tradition, and Mr.\nGladstone declared himself to be a strong conservative in comparison. The\nmeetings went on for several days through the various parts of the\nquestions, Lord Hartington, Lord Granville, and Sir Charles Dilke being\nalso taken into council--the last of the three being unrivalled master of\nthe intricate details.\n\nThe operation was watched with jealous eyes by the radicals, though they\nhad their guardians in the cabinet. To Mr. Bright who, having been all his\nlife denounced as a violent republican, was now in the view of the new\nschool hardly even so much as a sound radical, Mr. Gladstone thought it\nwell to write (Nov. 25) words of comfort, if comfort were needed:--\n\n\n I wish to give you the assurance that in the private\n communications which are now going on, liberal principles such as\n we should conceive and term them, are in no danger. Those with\n whom we confer are thinking without doubt of party interests, as\n affected by this or that arrangement, but these are a distinct\n matter, and I am not so good at them as some others; but the\n general proposition which I have stated is I think one which I can\n pronounce with some confidence.... The whole operation is\n essentially delicate and slippery, and I can hardly conceive any\n other circumstance in which it would be justified, but in the\n present very peculiar case I think it is not only warranted, but\n called for.\n\n\nOn November 27 all was well over; and Mr. Gladstone was able to inform the\nQueen that \"the delicate and novel communications\" between the two sets of\nleaders had been brought to a happy termination. \"His first duty,\" he\nsaid, \"was to tender his grateful thanks to your Majesty for the wise,\ngracious, and steady influence on your Majesty's part, which has so\npowerfully contributed to bring about this accommodation, and to avert a\nserious crisis of affairs.\" He (M52) adds that \"his cordial\nacknowledgments are due to Lord Salisbury and Sir Stafford Northcote for\nthe manner in which they have conducted their difficult communications.\"\nThe Queen promptly replied: \"I gladly and thankfully return your\ntelegrams. To be able to be of use is all I care to live for now.\" By way\nof winding up negotiations so remarkable, Mr. Gladstone wrote to Lord\nSalisbury to thank him for his kindness, and to say that he could have\ndesired nothing better in candour and equity. Their conversation on the\nSeats bill would leave him none but the most agreeable recollections.\n\nThe Queen was in high good humour, as she had a right to be. She gave Mr.\nGladstone ample credit for his conciliatory spirit. The last two months\nhad been very trying to her, she said, but she confessed herself repaid by\nthe thought that she had assisted in a settlement. Mr. Gladstone's\nseverest critics on the tory side confessed that \"they did not think he\nhad it in him.\" Some friends of his in high places even suggested that\nthis would be a good moment for giving him the garter. He wrote to Sir\nArthur Gordon (Dec. 5): \"The time of this government has been on the whole\nthe most stormy and difficult that I have known in office, and the last\nsix weeks have been perhaps the most anxious and difficult of the\ngovernment.\"\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nOne further episode deserves a section, if the reader will turn back for a\nmoment or two. The question whether the extension of the parliamentary\nfranchise to rural householders should be limited to Great Britain or\nshould apply to the whole kingdom, had been finally discussed in a couple\nof morning sittings in the month of May. Nobody who heard it can forget\nthe speech made against Irish inclusion by Mr. Plunket, the eloquent\ngrandson of the most eloquent of all the orators whom Ireland has sent to\nthe imperial senate. He warned the House that to talk of assimilating the\nfranchise in Ireland to the franchise in England, was to use language\nwithout meaning; that out of seven hundred and sixty thousand inhabited\nhouses in Ireland, no fewer than four hundred and thirty-five thousand\nwere rated at one pound and under; that those whom the bill would\nenfranchise would be taken from a class of whom more than forty per cent.\ncould neither read nor write; that the measure would strengthen the hands\nof that disloyal party who boasted of their entire indifference to English\nopinion, and their undivided obligation to influences which Englishmen\nwere wholly unable to realise. Then in a lofty strain Mr. Plunket foretold\nthat the measure which they were asked to pass would lead up to, and would\nprecipitate, the establishment of a separate Irish nationality. He\nreminded his hearers that the empire had been reared not more by the\nendurance of its soldiers and sailors than by the sagacity and firmness,\nthe common sense and patriotism, of that ancient parliament; and he ended\nwith a fervid prayer that the historian of the future might not have to\ntell that the union of these three kingdoms on which rested all its honour\nand all its power--a union that could never be broken by the force of\ndomestic traitor or foreign foe--yielded at last under the pressure of the\npolitical ambitions and party exigencies of British statesmen.\n\nThe orator's stately diction, his solemn tone, the depth of his\nconviction, made a profound impression. Newer parliamentary hands below\nthe government gangway, as he went on, asked one another by what arts of\nparliamentary defence the veteran minister could possibly deal with this\nsearching appeal. Only a quarter of an hour remained. In two or three\nminutes Mr. Gladstone had swept the solemn impression entirely away.\nContrary to his wont, he began at once upon the top note. With high\npassion in his voice, and mastering gesture in his uplifted arm, he dashed\nimpetuously upon the foe. What weighs upon my mind is this, he said, that\nwhen the future historian speaks of the greatness of this empire, and\ntraces the manner in which it has grown through successive generations, he\nwill say that in that history there was one chapter of disgrace, and that\nchapter of disgrace was the treatment of Ireland. It is the scale of\njustice that will determine the issue of the conflict with Ireland, if\nconflict there is to be. There is nothing we can do, cried the orator,\n(M53) turning to the Irish members, except the imprudence of placing in\nyour hands evidence that will show that we are not acting on principles of\njustice towards you, that can render you for a moment formidable in our\neyes, should the day unfortunately arise when you endeavour to lay hands\non this great structure of the British empire. Let us be as strong in\nright as we are in population, in wealth, and in historic traditions, and\nthen we shall not fear to do justice to Ireland. There is but one mode of\nmaking England weak in the face of Ireland--that is by applying to her\nprinciples of inequality and principles of injustice.\n\nAs members sallied forth from the House to dine, they felt that this\nvehement improvisation had put the true answer. Mr. Plunket's fine appeal\nto those who had been comrades of the Irish loyalists in guarding the\nunion was well enough, yet who but the Irish loyalists had held Ireland in\nthe hollow of their hands for generation upon generation, and who but they\nwere answerable for the odious and dishonouring failure, so patent before\nall the world, to effect a true incorporation of their country in a united\nrealm? And if it should happen that Irish loyalists should suffer from\nextension of equal civil rights to Irishmen, what sort of reason was that\nwhy the principle of exclusion and ascendency which had worked such\nmischief in the past, should be persisted in for a long and indefinite\nfuture? These views, it is important to observe, were shared, not only by\nthe minister's own party, but by a powerful body among his opponents. Some\nof the gentlemen who had been most furious against the government for not\nstopping Irish meetings in the autumn of 1883, were now most indignant at\nthe bare idea of refusing or delaying a proposal for strengthening the\nhands of the very people who promoted and attended such meetings. It is\ntrue also that only two or three months before, Lord Hartington had\ndeclared that it would be most unwise to deal with the Irish franchise.\nStill more recently, Mr. W. H. Smith had declared that any extension of\nthe suffrage in Ireland would draw after it \"confiscation of property,\nruin of industry, withdrawal of capital,--misery, wretchedness, and war.\"\nThe valour of the platform, however, often expires in the keener air of\ncabinet and parliament. It became Lord Hartington's duty now to move the\nsecond reading of provisions which, he had just described as most unwise\nprovisions, and Mr. Smith found himself the object of brilliant mockery\nfrom the daring leader below the gangway on his own side.\n\nLord Randolph produced a more serious, though events soon showed it to be\nnot any more solid an argument, when he said that the man who lives in a\nmud cabin very often has a decent holding, and has money in the savings'\nbank besides, and more than that, he is often more fit to take an interest\nin politics, and to form a sound view about them, than the English\nagricultural labourer. The same speaker proceeded to argue that the Fenian\nproclivities of the towns would be more than counterbalanced by the\nincreased power given to the peasantry. The incidents of agricultural\nlife, he observed, are unfavourable to revolutionary movements, and the\npeasant is much more under the proper and legitimate influence of the\nRoman catholic priesthood than the lower classes of the towns. On the\nwhole, the extension of the franchise to the peasantry of Ireland would\nnot be unfavourable to the landlord interest. Yet Lord Randolph, who\nregaled the House with these chimerical speculations, had had far better\nopportunities than almost any other Englishman then in parliament of\nknowing something about Ireland.\n\nWhat is certain is that English and Scotch members acted with their eyes\nopen. Irish tories and Irish nationalists agreed in menacing predictions.\nThe vast masses of Irish people, said the former, had no sense of loyalty\nand no love of order to which a government could appeal. In many districts\nthe only person who was unsafe was the peace officer or the relatives of a\nmurdered man. The effect of the change would be the utter annihilation of\nthe political power of the most orderly, the most loyal, the most educated\nclasses of Ireland, and the swamping of one-fourth of the community,\nrepresenting two-thirds of its property. A representative of the great\nhouse of Hamilton in the Commons, amid a little cloud of the dishevelled\nprophecies (M54) too common in his class, assured the House that everybody\nknew that if the franchise in Ireland were extended, the days of home rule\ncould not be far distant. The representative of the great house of\nBeresford in the Lords, the resident possessor of a noble domain, an able\nand determined man, with large knowledge of his country, so far as large\nknowledge can be acquired from a single point of view, expressed his\nstrong conviction that after the passage of this bill the Irish outlook\nwould be blacker than it had ever been before.(78)\n\nAnother person, far more powerful than any Hamilton or Beresford, was\nequally explicit. With characteristic frigidity, precision, and\nconfidence, the Irish leader had defined his policy and his expectations.\n\"Beyond a shadow of doubt,\" he had said to a meeting in the Rotunda at\nDublin, \"it will be for the Irish people in England--separated, isolated as\nthey are--and for your independent Irish members, to determine at the next\ngeneral election whether a tory or a liberal English ministry shall rule\nEngland. This is a great force and a great power. If we cannot rule\nourselves, we can at least cause them to be ruled as we choose. This force\nhas already gained for Ireland inclusion in the coming Franchise bill. We\nhave reason to be proud, hopeful, and energetic.\"(79) In any case, he\ninformed the House of Commons, even if Ireland were not included in the\nbill, the national party would come back seventy-five strong. If household\nsuffrage were conceded to Ireland, they would come back ninety strong.(80)\nThat was the only difference. Therefore, though he naturally supported\ninclusion,(81) it was not at all indispensable to the success of his\npolicy, and he watched the proceedings in the committee as calmly as he\nmight have watched a battle of frogs and mice.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IX. The Soudan. (1884-1885)\n\n\n You can only govern men by imagination: without imagination they\n are brutes.... 'Tis by speaking to the soul that you electrify\n men.--NAPOLEON.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIn the late summer of 1881 a certain native of Dongola, proclaiming\nhimself a heaven-inspired Mahdi, began to rally to his banner the wild\ntribes of the southern Soudan. His mission was to confound the wicked, the\nhypocrite, the unbeliever, and to convert the world to the true faith in\nthe one God and his prophet. The fame of the Mahdi's eloquence, his piety,\nhis zeal, rapidly spread. At his ear he found a counsellor, so well known\nto us after as the khalifa, and this man soon taught the prophet politics.\nThe misrule of the Soudan by Egypt had been atrocious, and the combination\nof a religious revival with the destruction of that hated yoke swelled a\ncry that was irresistible. The rising rapidly extended, for fanaticism in\nsuch regions soon takes fire, and the Egyptian pashas had been sore\noppressors, even judged by the rude standards of oriental states. Never\nwas insurrection more amply justified. From the first, Mr. Gladstone's\ncurious instinct for liberty disclosed to him that here was a case of \"a\npeople rightly struggling to be free.\" The phrase was mocked and derided\nthen and down to the end of the chapter. Yet it was the simple truth.\n\"During all my political life,\" he said at a later stage of Soudanese\naffairs, \"I am thankful to say that I have never opened my lips in favour\nof a domination such as that which has been exercised upon certain\ncountries by certain other countries, and I am not going now to begin.\"\n(M55) \"I look upon the possession of the Soudan,\" he proceeded, \"as the\ncalamity of Egypt. It has been a drain on her treasury, it has been a\ndrain on her men. It is estimated that 100,000 Egyptians have laid down\ntheir lives in endeavouring to maintain that barren conquest.\" Still\nstronger was the Soudanese side of the case. The rule of the Mahdi was\nitself a tyranny, and tribe fought with tribe, but that was deemed an\neasier yoke than the sway of the pashas from Cairo. Every vice of eastern\nrule flourished freely under Egyptian hands. At Khartoum whole families of\nCoptic clerks kept the accounts of plundering raids supported by Egyptian\nsoldiers, and \"this was a government collecting its taxes.\" The function\nof the Egyptian soldiers \"was that of honest countrymen sharing in the\nvillainy of the brigands from the Levant and Asia Minor, who wrung money,\nwomen, and drink from a miserable population.\"(82) Yet the railing against\nMr. Gladstone for saying that the \"rebels\" were rightly struggling to be\nfree could not have been more furious if the Mahdi had been for dethroning\nMarcus Aurelius or Saint Louis of France.\n\nThe ministers at Cairo, however, naturally could not find in their hearts\nto withdraw from territory that had been theirs for over sixty years,(83)\nalthough in the winter of 1882-3 Colonel Stewart, an able British officer,\nhad reported that the Egyptian government was wholly unfit to rule the\nSoudan; it had not money enough, nor fighting men enough, nor\nadministrative skill enough, and abandonment at least of large portions of\nit was the only reasonable course. Such counsels found no favour with the\nkhedive's advisers and agents, and General Hicks, an Indian officer,\nappointed on the staff of the Egyptian army in the spring of 1883, was now\ndespatched by the government of the khedive from Khartoum, for the\nrecovery of distant and formidable regions. If his operations had been\nlimited to the original intention of clearing Sennaar of rebels and\nprotecting Khartoum, all might have been well. Unluckily some trivial\nsuccesses over the Mahdi encouraged the Cairo government to design an\nadvance into Kordofan, and the reconquest of all the vast wildernesses of\nthe Soudan. Lord Dufferin, Sir E. Malet, Colonel Stewart, were all of them\nclear that to attempt any such task with an empty chest and a worthless\narmy was madness, and they all argued for the abandonment of Kordofan and\nDarfur. The cabinet in London, fixed in their resolve not to accept\nresponsibility for a Soudan war, and not to enter upon that responsibility\nby giving advice for or against the advance of Hicks, stood aloof.(84) In\nview of all that followed later, and of their subsequent adoption of the\npolicy of abandoning the Soudan, British ministers would evidently have\nbeen wiser if they had now forbidden an advance so pregnant with disaster.\nEvents showed this to have been the capital miscalculation whence all else\nof misfortune followed. The sounder the policy of abandonment, the\nstronger the reasons for insisting that the Egyptian government should not\nundertake operations inconsistent with that policy. The Soudan was not\nwithin the sphere of our responsibility, but Egypt was; and just because\nthe separation of Egypt from the Soudan was wise and necessary, it might\nhave been expected that England would peremptorily interpose to prevent a\ndeparture from the path of separation. What Hicks himself, a capable and\ndauntless man, thought of the chances we do not positively know, but he\nwas certainly alive to the risks of such a march with such material. On\nNovember 5 (1883) the whole force was cut to pieces, the victorious\ndervishes were free to advance northwards, and the loose fabric of\nEgyptian authority was shattered to the ground.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\n(M56) The three British military officers in Cairo all agreed that the\nEgyptian government could not hold Khartoum if the Mahdi should draw down\nupon it; and unless a British, an Indian, or a Turkish force came to the\nrescue, abandonment of the Soudan was the only possible alternative. The\nLondon cabinet decided that they would not employ British or Indian troops\nin the Soudan, and though they had no objection to the resort to the Turks\nby Egypt, if the Turks would pay their own expenses (a condition fatal to\nany such resort), they strongly recommended the khedive to abandon all\nterritory south of Assouan or Wady-Halfa. Sir Evelyn Baring, who had now\nassumed his post upon a theatre where he was for long years to come to\nplay the commanding part, concurred in thinking that the policy of\ncomplete abandonment was the best admitted by the circumstances. It is the\nway of the world to suppose that because a given course is best, it must\ntherefore be possible and ought to be simple. Baring and his colleagues at\nCairo were under no such illusion, but it was the foundation of most of\nthe criticism that now broke forth in the English press.\n\nThe unparalleled difficulties that ultimately attended the evacuation of\nthe Soudan naturally led inconsiderate critics,--and such must ever be the\nmajority,--to condemn the policy and the cabinet who ordered it. So apt are\nmen in their rough judgments on great disputable things, to mistake a mere\nimpression for a real opinion; and we must patiently admit that the\nResult--success or failure in the Event--is the most that they have time\nfor, and all that they can go by. Yet two remarks are to be made upon this\nfacile censure. The first is that those who knew the Soudan best, approved\nmost. On January 22, 1884, Gordon wrote to Lord Granville that the Soudan\never was and ever would be a useless possession, and that he thought the\nQueen's ministers \"fully justified in recommending evacuation, inasmuch as\nthe sacrifices necessary towards securing good government would be far too\nonerous to admit of such an attempt being made.\" Colonel Stewart quite\nagreed, and added the exclamation that nobody who had ever visited the\nSoudan could escape the reflection, \"What a useless possession and what a\nhuge encumbrance on Egypt!\" As we shall see, the time soon came when\nGordon accepted the policy of evacuation, even with an emphasis of his\nown. The second remark is that the reconquest of the Soudan and the\nholding of Khartoum were for the Egyptian government, if left to its own\nresources, neither more nor less than impossible; these objects, whether\nthey were good objects or bad, not only meant recourse to British troops\nfor the first immense operations, but the retention of them in a huge and\nmost inhospitable region for an indefinite time. A third consideration\nwill certainly not be overlooked by anybody who thinks on the course of\nthe years of Egyptian reform that have since elapsed, and constitute so\nremarkable a chapter of British administration,--namely, that this\nbeneficent achievement would have been fatally clogged, if those who\nconducted it had also had the Soudan on their hands. The renovation or\nreconstruction of what is called Egypt proper, its finances, its army, its\ncivil rule, would have been absolutely out of reach, if at the same time\nits guiding statesmen had been charged with the responsibilities\nrecovering and holding that vaster tract which had been so rashly acquired\nand so mercilessly misgoverned. This is fully admitted by those who have\nhad most to do with the result.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe policy of evacuation was taken as carrying with it the task of\nextricating the Egyptian garrisons. This aim induced Mr. Gladstone's\ncabinet once more to play an active military part, though Britain had no\nshare in planting these garrisons where they were. Wise men in Egypt were\nof the same mind as General Gordon, that in the eastern Soudan it would\nhave been better for the British government to keep quiet, and \"let events\nwork themselves out.\" Unfortunately the ready clamour of headlong\nphilanthropists, political party men, and the men who think England\nhumiliated if she ever lets slip an excuse for drawing her sword, drove\nthe cabinet on to the rocks. When the decision of the cabinet was (M57)\ntaken (Feb. 12, 1883) to send troops to Suakin, Mr. Gladstone stood alone\nin objecting. Many thousands of savages were slaughtered under\nhumanitarian pressure, not a few English lives were sacrificed, much\ntreasure flowed, and yet Sinkat fell, and Tokar fell, and our labours in\nthe eastern Soudan were practically fruitless.(85) The operations had no\neffect upon the roll of the fierce mahdi wave over the Soudan.\n\nIn England, excitement of the unsound sort that is independent of\nknowledge, consideration, or deliberation; independent of any weighing of\nthe actual facts and any forecast of latent possibilities, grew more and\nmore vociferous. Ministers quailed. Twice they inquired of their agent in\nEgypt(86) whether General Gordon might not be of use, and twice they\nreceived an adverse reply, mainly on the ground that the presence in\nauthority of a Christian officer was a dubious mode of confronting a\nsweeping outbreak of moslem fanaticism, and would inevitably alienate\ntribes that were still not caught by the Mahdi.(87) Unhappily a third\napplication from London at last prevailed, and Sir E. Baring, supported by\nNubar, by Sir Evelyn Wood, by Colonel Watson, who had served with Gordon\nand knew him well, all agreed that Gordon would be the best man if he\nwould pledge himself to carry out the policy of withdrawing from the\nSoudan as quickly as possible. \"Whoever goes,\" said Sir E. Baring in\npregnant words to Lord Granville, will \"undertake a service of great\ndifficulty and danger.\" This was on January 16th. Two days later the die\nwas cast. Mr. Gladstone was at Hawarden. Lord Granville submitted the\nquestion (Jan. 14, 1884) to him in this form: \"If Gordon says he believes\nhe could by his personal influence excite the tribes to escort the\nKhartoum garrison and inhabitants to Suakin, a little pressure on Baring\nmight be advisable. The destruction of these poor people will be a great\ndisaster.\" Mr. Gladstone telegraphed that to this and other parts of the\nsame letter, he agreed. Granville then sent him a copy of the telegram\nputting \"a little pressure on Baring.\" To this Mr. Gladstone replied (Jan.\n16) in words that, if they had only been taken to heart, would have made\nall the difference:--\n\n\n I can find no fault with your telegram to Baring _re_ Chinese\n Gordon, and the main point that strikes me is this: While his\n opinion on the Soudan may be of great value, must we not be very\n careful in any instruction we give, that he does not shift the\n centre of gravity as to political and military responsibility for\n that country? In brief, if he reports what should be done, he\n should not be the judge _who_ should do it, nor ought he to commit\n us on that point by advice officially given. It would be extremely\n difficult after sending him to reject such advice, and it should\n therefore, I think, be made clear that he is not our agent for the\n purpose of advising on that point.\n\n\nOn January 18, Lord Hartington (then secretary of state for war), Lord\nGranville, Lord Northbrook, and Sir Charles Dilke met at the war office in\nPall Mall. The summons was sudden. Lord Wolseley brought Gordon and left\nhim in the ante-room. After a conversation with the ministers, he came out\nand said to Gordon, \"Government are determined to evacuate the Soudan, for\nthey will not guarantee the future government. Will you go and do it?\" \"_I\nsaid_, 'Yes.' _He said_, 'Go in.' _I went in and saw them. They said_,\n'Did Wolseley tell you our orders?' _I said_, 'Yes.' _I said_, 'You will\nnot guarantee future government of the Soudan, and you wish me to go up\nand evacuate now.' _They said_, 'Yes,' _and it was over, and I left at 8\np.m. for Calais_.\"(88) This graphic story does not pretend to be a full\nversion of all that passed, though it puts the essential point\nunmistakably enough. Lord Granville seems to have drawn Gordon's (M58)\nspecial attention to the measures to be taken for the security of the\nEgyptian garrisons (plural) still holding positions in the Soudan and to\nthe best mode of evacuating the interior.(89) On the other hand, according\nto a very authentic account that I have seen, Gordon on this occasion\nstated that the danger at Khartoum was exaggerated, and that he would be\nable to bring away the garrisons without difficulty.\n\nThus in that conclave of sober statesmen a tragedy began. The next day one\nof the four ministers met another; \"We were proud of ourselves\nyesterday--are you sure we did not commit a gigantic folly?\" The prime\nminister had agreed at once on receiving the news of what was done at the\nwar office, and telegraphed assent the same night.(90) The whole cabinet\nmet four days later, Mr. Gladstone among them, and the decision was\napproved. There was hardly a choice, for by that time Gordon was at\nBrindisi. Gordon, as Mr. Gladstone said, was a hero of heroes. He was a\nsoldier of infinite personal courage and daring; of striking military\nenergy, initiative, and resource; a high, pure, and single character,\ndwelling much in the region of the unseen. But as all who knew him admit,\nand as his own records testify, notwithstanding an under-current of shrewd\ncommon-sense, he was the creature, almost the sport, of impulse; his\nimpressions and purposes changed with the speed of lightning; anger often\nmastered him; he went very often by intuitions and inspirations rather\nthan by cool inference from carefully surveyed fact: with many variations\nof mood he mixed, as we often see in people less famous, an invincible\nfaith in his own rapid prepossessions while they lasted. Everybody now\ndiscerns that to despatch a soldier of this temperament on a piece of\nbusiness that was not only difficult and dangerous, as Sir E. Baring said,\nbut profoundly obscure, and needing vigilant sanity and self-control, was\nlittle better than to call in a wizard with his magic. Mr. Gladstone\nalways professed perplexity in understanding why the violent end of the\ngallant Cavagnari in Afghanistan, stirred the world so little in\ncomparison with the fate of Gordon. The answer is that Gordon seized the\nimagination of England, and seized it on its higher side. His religion was\neccentric, but it was religion; the Bible was the rock on which he founded\nhimself, both old dispensation and new; he was known to hate forms,\nceremonies, and all the \"solemn plausibilities\"; his speech was sharp,\npithy, rapid, and ironic; above all, he knew the ways of war and would not\nbear the sword for nought. All this was material enough to make a popular\nideal, and this is what Gordon in an ever-increasing degree became, to the\nimmense inconvenience of the statesmen, otherwise so sensible and wary,\nwho had now improvidently let the genie forth from the jar.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIt has been sometimes contended that all the mischief that followed was\ncaused by the diversion of Gordon from Suakin, his original destination.\nIf he had gone to the Red Sea, as originally intended, there to report on\nthe state and look of things in the Soudan, instead of being waylaid and\nbrought to Cairo, and thence despatched to Khartoum, they say, no\ncatastrophe would have happened. This is not certain, for the dervishes in\nthe eastern Soudan were in the flush of open revolt, and Gordon might\neither have been killed or taken prisoner, or else he would have come back\nwithout performing any part of his mission. In fact, on his way from\nLondon to Port Said, Gordon had suggested that with a view to carrying out\nevacuation, the khedive should make him governor-general of the Soudan.\nLord Granville authorised Baring to procure the nomination, and this Sir\nEvelyn did, \"for the time necessary to accomplish the evacuation.\" The\ninstructions were thus changed, in an important sense, but the change was\nsuggested by Gordon and sanctioned by Lord Granville.(91)\n\n(M59) When Gordon left London his instructions, drafted in fact by\nhimself, were that he should \"consider and report upon the best mode of\neffecting the evacuation of the interior of the Soudan.\" He was also to\nperform such duties as the Egyptian government might wish to entrust to\nhim, and as might be communicated to him by Sir E. Baring.(92) At Cairo,\nBaring and Nubar, after discussion with Gordon, altered the mission from\none of advice and report to an executive mission--a change that was\ndoubtless authorised and covered by the original reference to duties to be\nentrusted to him by Egypt. But there was no change in the policy either at\nDowning Street or Cairo. Whether advisory or executive, the only policy\ncharged upon the mission was abandonment. When the draft of the new\ninstructions was read to Gordon at Cairo, Sir E. Baring expressly asked\nhim whether he entirely concurred in \"the policy of abandoning the\nSoudan,\" and Gordon not only concurred, but suggested the strengthening\nwords, that he thought \"it should on no account be changed.\"(93) This\ndespatch, along with the instructions to Gordon making this vast\nalteration, was not received in London until Feb. 7. By this time Gordon\nwas crossing the desert, and out of reach of the English foreign office.\n\nOn his way from Brindisi, Gordon had prepared a memorandum for Sir E.\nBaring, in which he set out his opinion that the Soudan had better be\nrestored to the different petty sultans in existence before the Egyptian\nconquest, and an attempt should be made to form them into some sort of\nconfederation. These petty rulers might be left to accept the Mahdi for\ntheir sovereign or not, just as they pleased. But in the same document he\nemphasised the policy of abandonment. \"I understand,\" he says, \"that\nH.M.'s government have come to the irrevocable decision not to incur the\nvery onerous duty of granting to the peoples of the Soudan a just future\ngovernment.\" Left to their independence, the sultans \"would doubtless\nfight among themselves.\" As for future good government, it was evident\nthat \"this we could not secure them without an inordinate expenditure of\nmen and money. The Soudan is a useless possession; ever was so, and ever\nwill be so. No one who has ever lived in the Soudan, can escape the\nreflection, What a useless possession is this land.\" Therefore--so he winds\nup--\"I think H.M.'s government are fully justified in recommending the\nevacuation, inasmuch as the sacrifices necessary towards securing a good\ngovernment would be far too onerous to admit of any such attempt being\nmade. Indeed, one may say it is impracticable at any cost. _H.M.'s\ngovernment will now leave them as God has placed them._\"(94)\n\nIt was, therefore, and it is, pure sophistry to contend that Gordon's\npolicy in undertaking his disastrous mission was evacuation but not\nabandonment. To say that the Soudanese should be left in the state in\nwhich God had placed them, to fight it out among themselves, if they were\nso minded, is as good a definition of abandonment as can be invented, and\nthis was the whole spirit of the instructions imposed by the government of\nthe Queen and accepted by Gordon.\n\nGordon took with him instruments from the khedive into which, along with\ndefinite and specific statements that evacuation was the object of his\nmission, two or three loose sentences are slipped about \"establishing\norganised government in the different provinces of the Soudan,\"\nmaintaining order, and the like. It is true also that the British cabinet\nsanctioned the extension of the area of evacuation from Khartoum to the\nwhole Soudan.(95) Strictly construed, the whole body of instructions,\nincluding firmans and khedive's proclamations, is not technically compact\nnor coherent. But this is only another way of saying that Gordon was to\nhave the widest discretionary powers as to the manner of carrying out the\npolicy, and the best time and mode of announcing it. The policy itself, as\nwell understood by Gordon as by everybody else, was untouched, and it was:\nto leave the Soudanese in the state in which God had placed them.\n\nThe hot controversy on this point is idle and without substance--the idlest\ncontroversies are always the hottest--for (M60) not only was Gordon the\nlast man in all the world to hold himself bound by official instructions,\nbut the actual conditions of the case were too little known, too shifting,\ntoo unstable, to permit of hard and fast directions beforehand how to\nsolve so desperate a problem. Two things at any rate were clear--one, that\nGordon should faithfully adhere to the policy of evacuation and\nabandonment which he had formally accepted; the other, that the British\ngovernment should leave him a free hand. Unhappily neither of these two\nclear things was accepted by either of the parties.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nGordon's policies were many and very mutable. Viewing the frightful\nembarrassments that enveloped him, we cannot wonder. Still the same\nconsiderateness that is always so bounteously and so justly extended to\nthe soldier in the field, is no less due in its measure to the councillor\nin the cabinet. This is a bit of equity often much neglected both by\ncontemporaries and by history.\n\nHe had undertaken his mission without any serious and measured forecast,\nsuch as his comrade, Colonel Stewart, was well fitted to supply. His first\nnotion was that he could restore the representatives of the old rulers,\nbut when he got into the country, he found that there were none; with one\nby no means happy exception, they had all disappeared. When he reached\nBerber, he learned more clearly how the question of evacuation was\ninterlaced with other questions. Once at Khartoum, at first he thought\nhimself welcome as a deliverer, and then when new light as to the real\nfeelings of the Soudanese broke upon him, he flung the policy of his\nmission overboard. Before the end of February, instead of the suzerainty\nof Egypt, the British government should control Soudanese administration,\nwith Zobeir as their governor-general. \"When Gordon left this country,\"\nsaid Mr. Gladstone, \"and when he arrived in Egypt, he declared it to be,\nand I have not the smallest doubt that it was--a fixed portion of his\npolicy, that no British force should be employed in aid of his\nmission.\"(96) When March came, he flung himself with ardour into the\npolicy of \"smashing up\" the Mahdi, with resort to British and Indian\ntroops. This was a violent reversal of all that had been either settled or\ndreamed of, whether in London or at Cairo. A still more vehement stride\ncame next. He declared that to leave outlying garrisons to their fate\nwould be an \"indelible disgrace.\" Yet, as Lord Hartington said, the\ngovernment \"were under no moral obligation to use the military resources\nof this empire for the relief of those garrisons.\" As for Gordon's opinion\nthat \"indelible disgrace\" would attach to the British government if they\nwere not relieved, \"I do not admit,\" said the minister very sensibly,\n\"that General Gordon is on this point a better authority than anybody\nelse.\"(97) All this illustrates the energy of Gordon's mental movements,\nand also, what is more important, the distracting difficulties of the case\nbefore him. In one view and one demand he strenuously persevered, as we\nshall now see.\n\nMr. Gladstone at first, when Gordon set all instructions at defiance, was\nfor recalling him. A colleague also was for recalling him on the first\ninstant when he changed his policy. Another important member of the\ncabinet was, on the contrary, for an expedition. \"I cannot admit,\" wrote a\nfourth leading minister, \"that either generals or statesmen who have\naccepted the offer of a man to lead a forlorn hope, are in the least bound\nto risk the lives of thousands for the uncertain chance of saving the\nforlorn hope.\" Some think that this was stern common sense, others call it\nignoble. The nation, at any rate, was in one of its high idealising\nhumours, though Gordon had roused some feeling against himself in this\ncountry (unjustly enough) by his decree formally sanctioning the holding\nof slaves.\n\nThe general had not been many hours in Khartoum (February 18) before he\nsent a telegram to Sir E. Baring, proposing that on his withdrawal from\nKhartoum, Zobeir Pasha should be named his successor as governor-general\nof the Soudan: he should be made a K.C.M.G., and have presents given to\nhim. This request was strenuously pressed by Gordon. Zobeir had been a\nprime actor in the (M61) devastations of the slave trade; it was he who\nhad acquired Darfur for Egypt; he was a first-rate fighting man, and the\nablest leader in the Soudan. He is described by the English officer who\nknows the Soudan best, as a far-seeing, thoughtful man of iron will--a born\nruler of men.(98) The Egyptian government had desired to send him down to\naid in the operations at Suakin in 1883, but the government in London\nvetoed him, as they were now to veto him a second time. The Egyptian\ngovernment was to act on its own responsibility, but not to do what it\nthought best. So now with Gordon.\n\nGordon in other days had caused Zobeir's son to be shot, and this was\nsupposed to have set up an unquenchable blood-feud between them. Before\nreaching Cairo, he had suggested that Zobeir should be sent to Cyprus, and\nthere kept out of the way. This was not done. On Gordon's way through\nCairo, the two men met in what those present describe as a highly dramatic\ninterview. Zobeir bitterly upbraided Gordon: \"You killed my son, whom I\nentrusted to you. He was as your son. You brought my wives and women and\nchildren in chains to Khartoum.\" Still even after that incident, Gordon\ndeclared that he had \"a mystical feeling\" that Zobeir and he were all\nright.(99) What inspired his reiterated demand for the immediate despatch\nof Zobeir is surmised to have been the conviction forced upon him during\nhis journey to Khartoum, that his first idea of leaving the various petty\nsultans to fight it out with the Mahdi, would not work; that the Mahdi had\ngot so strong a hold that he could only be met by a man of Zobeir's\npolitical capacity, military skill, and old authority. Sir E. Baring,\nafter a brief interval of hesitation, now supported Gordon's request. So\ndid the shrewd and expert Colonel Stewart. Nubar too favoured the idea.\nThe cabinet could not at once assent; they were startled by the change of\nfront as to total withdrawal from the Soudan--the very object of Gordon's\nmission, and accepted by him as such. On February 21 Mr. Gladstone\nreported to the Queen that the cabinet were of opinion that there would be\nthe gravest objection to nominating by an assumption of British authority\na successor to General Gordon in the Soudan, nor did they as yet see\nsufficient reasons for going beyond Gordon's memorandum of January 25, by\nmaking special provision for the government of that country. But at first\nit looked as if ministers might yield, if Baring, Gordon, and Nubar\npersisted.\n\nAs ill-fortune had it, the Zobeir plan leaked out at home by Gordon's\nindiscretion before the government decided. The omnipotent though not\nomniscient divinity called public opinion intervened. The very men who had\nmost loudly clamoured for the extrication of the Egyptian garrisons, who\nhad pressed with most importunity for the despatch of Gordon, who had been\nmost urgent for the necessity of giving him a free hand, now declared that\nit would be a national degradation and a European scandal to listen to\nGordon's very first request. He had himself unluckily given them a capital\ntext, having once said that Zobeir was alone responsible for the slave\ntrade of the previous ten years. Gordon's idea was, as he explained, to\nput Zobeir into a position like that of the Ameer of Afghanistan, as a\nbuffer between Egypt and the Mahdi, with a subsidy, moral support, and all\nthe rest of a buffer arrangement. The idea may or may not have been a good\none; nobody else had a better.\n\nIt was not at all surprising that the cabinet should ask what new reason\nhad come to light why Zobeir should be trusted; why he should oppose the\nMahdi whom at first he was believed to have supported; why he should turn\nthe friend of Egypt; why he should be relied upon as the faithful ally of\nEngland. To these and other doubts Gordon had excellent answers (March 8).\nZobeir would run straight, because it was his interest. If he would be\ndangerous, was not the Mahdi dangerous, and whom save Zobeir could you set\nup against the Mahdi? You talked of slave-holding and slave-hunting, but\nwould slave-holding and slave-hunting (M62) stop with your own policy of\nevacuation? Slave-holding you cannot interfere with, and as for\nslave-hunting, that depended on the equatorial provinces, where Zobeir\ncould be prevented from going, and besides he would have his hands full in\nconsolidating his power elsewhere. As for good faith towards Egypt,\nZobeir's stay in Cairo had taught him our power, and being a great trader,\nhe would rather seek Egypt's close alliance. Anyhow, said Gordon, \"if you\ndo not send Zobeir, you have no chance of getting the garrisons away.\"\n\nThe matter was considered at two meetings of the cabinet, but the prime\nminister was prevented by his physician from attending.(100) A difference\nof opinion showed itself upon the despatch of Zobeir; viewed as an\nabstract question, three of the Commons members inclined to favour it, but\non the practical question, the Commons members were unanimous that no\ngovernment from either side of the House could venture to sanction Zobeir.\nMr. Gladstone had become a strong convert to the plan of sending Zobeir.\n\"I am better in chest and generally,\" he wrote to Lord Granville, \"but\nunfortunately not in throat and voice, and Clark interdicts my appearance\nat cabinet; but I am available for any necessary communication, say with\nyou, or you and Hartington.\" One of the ministers went to see him in his\nbed, and they conversed for two hours. The minister, on his return,\nreported with some ironic amusement that Mr. Gladstone considered it very\nlikely that they could not bring parliament to swallow Zobeir, but\nbelieved that he himself could. Whether his confidence in this was right\nor wrong, he was unable to turn his cabinet. The Queen telegraphed her\nagreement with the prime minister. But this made no difference. \"On\nSaturday 15,\" Mr. Gladstone notes, \"it seemed as if by my casting vote\nZobier was to be sent to Gordon. But on Sunday ---- and ---- receded from\ntheir ground, and I gave way. The nature of the evidence on which\njudgments are formed in this most strange of all cases, precludes (in\nreason) pressing all conclusions, which are but preferences, to extremes.\"\n\"It is well known,\" said Mr. Gladstone in the following year when the\ncurtain had fallen on the catastrophe, \"that if, when the recommendation\nto send Zobeir was made, we had complied with it, an address from this\nHouse to the crown would have paralysed our action; and though it was\nperfectly true that the decision arrived at was the judgment of the\ncabinet, it was also no less the judgment of parliament and the people.\"\nSo Gordon's request was refused.\n\nIt is true that, as a minister put it at the time, to send Zobeir would\nhave been a gambler's throw. But then what was it but a gambler's throw to\nsend Gordon himself? The Soudanese chieftain might possibly have done all\nthat Gordon and Stewart, who knew the ground and were watching the quick\nfluctuation of events with elastic minds, now positively declared that he\nwould have the strongest motives not to do. Even then, could the issue\nhave been worse? To run all the risks involved in the despatch of Gordon,\nand then immediately to refuse the request that he persistently\nrepresented as furnishing him his only chance, was an incoherence that the\nparliament and people of England have not often surpassed.(101) All\nthrough this critical month, from the 10th until the 30th, Mr. Gladstone\nwas suffering more or less from indisposition which he found it difficult\nto throw off.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe chance, whatever it may have been, passed like a flash. Just as the\nproposal inflamed many in England, so it did mischief in Cairo. Zobeir\nlike other people got wind of it; enemies of England at Cairo set to work\nwith him; Sir E. Baring might have found him hard to deal with. It was\nGordon's rashness that had made the design public. Gordon, too, as it\nhappened, had made a dire mistake on his way up. At Berber he had shown\nthe khedive's secret firman, (M63) announcing the intended abandonment of\nthe Soudan. The news spread; it soon reached the Mahdi himself, and the\nMahdi made politic use of it. He issued a proclamation of his own, asking\nall the sheikhs who stood aloof from him or against him, what they had to\ngain by supporting a pasha who was the next day going to give the Soudan\nup. Gordon's argument for this unhappy proceeding was that, the object of\nhis mission being to get out of the country and leave them to their\nindependence, he could have put no sharper spur into them to make them\norganise their own government. But he spoke of it after as the fatal\nproclamation, and so it was.(102)\n\nWhat happened was that the tribes round Khartoum almost at once began to\nwaver. From the middle of March, says a good observer, one searches in\nvain for a single circumstance hopeful for Gordon. \"When the eye wanders\nover the huge and hostile Soudan, notes the little pin-point garrisons,\neach smothered in a cloud of Arab spears, and remembers that Gordon and\nStewart proceeded to rule this vast empire, already given away to others,\none feels that the Soudanese view was marked by common sense.\"(103)\nGordon's too sanguine prediction that the men who had beaten Hicks, and\nthe men who afterwards beat Baker, would never fight beyond their tribal\nlimits, did not come true. Wild forces gathered round the Mahdi as he\nadvanced northwards. The tribes that had wavered joined them. Berber fell\non May 26. The pacific mission had failed, and Gordon and his comrade\nStewart--a more careful and clear-sighted man than himself--were shut up in\nKhartoum.\n\nDistractions grew thicker upon the cabinet, and a just reader, now far\naway from the region of votes of censure, will bear them in mind. The\nQueen, like many of her subjects, grew impatient, but Mr. Gladstone was\njustified in reminding her of the imperfect knowledge, and he might have\ncalled it blank ignorance, with which the government was required on the\nshortest notice to form conclusions on a remote and more than\nhalf-barbarous region.\n\nGordon had told them that he wanted to take his steam vessels to Equatoria\nand serve the king of the Belgians. This Sir Evelyn Baring refused to\nallow, not believing Gordon to be in immediate danger (March 26). From\nGordon himself came a telegram (March 28), \"I think we are now safe, and\nthat, as the Nile rises, we shall account for the rebels.\" Mr. Gladstone\nwas still unwell and absent. Through Lord Granville he told the cabinet\n(March 15) that, with a view to speedy departure from Khartoum, he would\nnot even refuse absolutely to send cavalry to Berber, much as he disliked\nit, provided the military authorities thought it could be done, and\nprovided also that it was declared necessary for Gordon's safety, and was\nstrictly confined to that object. The cabinet decided against an immediate\nexpedition, one important member vowing that he would resign if an\nexpedition were not sent in the autumn, another vowing that he would\nresign if it were. On April 7, the question of an autumn expedition again\ncame up. Six were favourable, five the other way, including the prime\nminister.\n\nAlmost by the end of March it was too probable that no road of retreat was\nany longer open. If they could cut no way out, either by land or water,\nwhat form of relief was possible? A diversion from Suakin to Berber--one of\nGordon's own suggestions? But the soldiers differed. Fierce summer heat\nand little water; an Indian force might stand it; even they would find it\ntough. A dash by a thousand cavalry across two hundred miles of desert--one\nhundred of them without water; without communication with its base, and\nwith the certainty that whatever might befall, no reinforcements could\nreach it for months? What would be your feelings, and your language, asked\nLord (M64) Hartington, if besides having Gordon and Stewart beleaguered in\nKhartoum, we also knew that a small force of British cavalry unable to\ntake the offensive was shut up in the town of Berber?(104) Then the\ngovernment wondered whether a move on Dongola might not be advantageous.\nHere again the soldiers thought the torrid climate a fatal objection, and\nthe benefits doubtful. Could not Gordon, some have asked, have made his\nretreat at an early date after reaching Khartoum, by way of Berber?\nAnswer--the Nile was too low. All this it was that at a later day, when the\ntime had come to call his government to its account, justified Mr.\nGladstone in saying that in such enterprises as these in the Soudan,\nmistakes and miscarriages were inevitable, for they were the proper and\ncertain consequences of undertakings that lie beyond the scope of human\nmeans and of rational and prudent human action, and are a war against\nnature.(105) If anybody now points to the victorious expedition to\nKhartoum thirteen years later, as falsifying such language as this, that\nexperience so far from falsifying entirely justifies. A war against nature\ndemands years of study, observation, preparation, and those who are best\nacquainted with the conditions at first hand all agree that neither the\ntribes nor the river nor the desert were well known enough in 1885, to\nguarantee that overthrow in the case of the Mahdi, which long afterwards\ndestroyed his successor.\n\nOn April 14 Sir E. Baring, while as keenly averse as anybody in the world\nto an expedition for the relief of Khartoum if such an expedition could be\navoided, still watching events with a clear and concentrated gaze, assured\nthe government that it was very likely to be unavoidable; it would be well\ntherefore, without loss of time, to prepare for a move as soon as ever the\nNile should rise. Six days before, Lord Wolseley also had written to Lord\nHartington at the war office, recommending immediate and active\npreparations for an exclusively British expedition to Khartoum. Time, he\nsaid, is the most important element in this question; and in truth it was,\nfor time was flying, and so were events. The cabinet were reported as\nfeeling that Gordon, \"who was despatched on a mission essentially pacific,\nhad found himself, from whatever cause, unable to prosecute it\neffectually, and now proposed the use of military means, which might fail,\nand which, even if they should succeed, might be found to mean a new\nsubjugation of the Soudan--the very consummation which it was the object of\nGordon's mission to avert.\" On June 27 it was known in London that Berber\nhad fallen a month before.\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nLord Hartington, as head of the war department, had a stronger leaning\ntowards the despatch of troops than some of his colleagues, but, says Mr.\nGladstone to Lord Granville in a letter of 1888, \"I don't think he ever\ncame to any sharp issue (like mine about Zobeir); rather that in the main\nhe got what he wanted.\" Wherever the fault lay, the issue was unfortunate.\nThe generals in London fought the battle of the routes with unabated\ntenacity for month after month. One was for the approach to Khartoum by\nthe Nile; another by Suakin and Berber; a third by the Korosko desert. A\ndepartmental committee reported in favour of the Nile as the easiest,\nsafest, and cheapest, but they did not report until July 29. It was not\nuntil the beginning of August that the House of Commons was asked for a\nvote of credit, and Lord Hartington authorised General Stephenson at Cairo\nto take measures for moving troops southward. In his despatch of August 8,\nLord Hartington still only speaks of operations for the relief of Gordon,\n\"should they become necessary\"; he says the government were still\nunconvinced that Gordon could not secure the withdrawal of the garrison\nfrom Khartoum; but \"they are of opinion that the time had arrived for\nobtaining accurate information as to his position,\" and, \"if necessary,\nfor rendering him assistance.\"(106) As soon as the decision was taken,\npreparations were carried out with rapidity and skill. In the same month\nLord Wolseley was (M65) appointed to command the expedition, and on\nSeptember 9 he reached Cairo. The difficulties of a military decision had\nbeen great, said Lord Hartington, and there was besides, he added, a\ndifference of opinion among the military authorities.(107) It was October\n5 before Lord Wolseley reached Wady-Halfa, and the Nile campaign began.\n\nWhatever decision military critics may ultimately form upon the choice of\nthe Nile route, or upon the question whether the enterprise would have\nbeen any more successful if the route had been by Suakin or Korosko, it is\nat least certain that no position, whether strategically false or no, has\never evoked more splendid qualities in face of almost preterhuman\ndifficulties, hardship, and labour. The treacherous and unknown river, for\nit was then unknown, with its rapids, its shifting sandbanks and tortuous\nchannels and rocky barriers and heart-breaking cataracts; the Bayuda\ndesert, haunted by fierce and stealthy enemies; the trying climate, the\nheat, the thirst, all the wearisome embarrassments of transport on camels\nemaciated by lack of food and water--such scenes exacted toil, patience,\nand courage as worthy of remark and admiration as if the advance had\nsuccessfully achieved its object. Nobody lost heart. \"Everything goes on\nswimmingly,\" wrote Sir Herbert Stewart to Lord Wolseley, \"_except as to\ntime_.\" This was on January 14, 1885. Five days later, he was mortally\nwounded.\n\nThe end of it all, in spite of the gallantry of Abu Klea and Kirbekan, of\ndesert column and river column, is only too well known. Four of Gordon's\nsmall steamers coming down from Khartoum met the British desert column at\nGubat on January 21. The general in command at once determined to proceed\nto Khartoum, but delayed his start until the morning of the 24th. The\nsteamers needed repairs, and Sir Charles Wilson deemed it necessary for\nthe safety of his troops to make a reconnaissance down the river towards\nBerber before starting up to Khartoum. He took with him on two of Gordon's\nsteamers--described as of the dimensions of the penny boats upon the\nThames, but bullet proof--a force of twenty-six British, and two hundred\nand forty Soudanese. He had also in tow a nugger laden with dhura. This\nwas what, when Khartoum came in sight (Jan. 28) the \"relief force\"\nactually amounted to. As the two steamers ran slowly on, a solitary voice\nfrom the river-bank now and again called out to them that Khartoum was\ntaken, and Gordon slain. Eagerly searching with their glasses, the\nofficers perceived that the government-house was a wreck, and that no flag\nwas flying. Gordon, in fact, had met his death two days before.\n\nMr. Gladstone afterwards always spoke of the betrayal of Khartoum. But\nMajor Kitchener, who prepared the official report, says that the\naccusations of treachery were all vague, and to his mind, the outcome of\nmere supposition. \"In my opinion,\" he says, \"Khartoum fell from sudden\nassault, when the garrison were too exhausted by privations to make proper\nresistance.\"(108) The idea that the relieving force was only two days late\nis misleading. A nugger's load of dhura would not have put an end to the\nprivations of the fourteen thousand people still in Khartoum; and even\nsupposing that the handful of troops at Gubat could have effected their\nadvance upon Khartoum many days earlier, it is hard to believe that they\nwere strong enough either to drive off the Mahdi, or to hold him at bay\nuntil the river column had come up.\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nThe prime minister was on a visit to the Duke of Devonshire at Holker,\nwhere he had many long conversations with Lord Hartington, and had to deal\nwith heavy post-bags. On Thursday, Feb. 5, after writing to the Queen and\nothers, he heard what had happened on the Nile ten days before. \"After 11\nA.M.,\" he records, \"I learned the sad news of the fall or betrayal of\nKhartoum. H[artington] and I, with C [his wife], went off by the first\ntrain, and reached Downing Street soon after 8.15. The circumstances are\nsad and trying. It is one of the least points about them that they may put\nan end to this government.\"(109) The next day the cabinet met; (M66)\ndiscussions \"difficult but harmonious.\" The Queen sent to him and to Lord\nHartington at Holker an angry telegram--blaming her ministers for what had\nhappened--a telegram not in cipher as usual, but open. Mr. Gladstone\naddressed to the Queen in reply (Feb. 5, 1885) a vindication of the course\ntaken by the cabinet; and it may be left to close an unedifying and a\ntragic chapter:--\n\n\n _To the Queen._\n\n Mr. Gladstone has had the honour this day to receive your\n Majesty's telegram _en clair_, relating to the deplorable\n intelligence received this day from Lord Wolseley, and stating\n that it is too fearful to consider that the fall of Khartoum might\n have been, prevented and many precious lives saved by earlier\n action. Mr. Gladstone does not presume to estimate the means of\n judgment possessed by your Majesty, but so far as his information\n and recollection at the moment go, he is not altogether able to\n follow the conclusion which your Majesty has been pleased thus to\n announce. Mr. Gladstone is under the impression that Lord\n Wolseley's force might have been sufficiently advanced to save\n Khartoum, had not a large portion of it been detached by a\n circuitous route along the river, upon the express application of\n General Gordon, to occupy Berber on the way to the final\n destination. He speaks, however, with submission on a point of\n this kind. There is indeed in some quarters a belief that the\n river route ought to have been chosen at an earlier period, and\n had the navigation of the Nile in its upper region been as well\n known as that of the Thames, this might have been a just ground of\n reproach. But when, on the first symptoms that the position of\n General Gordon in Khartoum was not secure, your Majesty's advisers\n at once sought from the most competent persons the best\n information they could obtain respecting the Nile route, the\n balance of testimony and authority was decidedly against it, and\n the idea of the Suakin and Berber route, with all its formidable\n difficulties, was entertained in preference; nor was it until a\n much later period that the weight of opinion and information\n warranted the definitive choice of the Nile route. Your Majesty's\n ministers were well aware that climate and distance were far more\n formidable than the sword of the enemy, and they deemed it right,\n while providing adequate military means, never to lose from view\n what might have proved to be the destruction of the gallant army\n in the Soudan. It is probable that abundant wrath and indignation\n will on this occasion be poured out upon them. Nor will they\n complain if so it should be; but a partial consolation may be\n found on reflecting that neither aggressive policy, nor military\n disaster, nor any gross error in the application of means to ends,\n has marked this series of difficult proceedings, which, indeed,\n have greatly redounded to the honour of your Majesty's forces of\n all ranks and arms. In these remarks which Mr. Gladstone submits\n with his humble devotion, he has taken it for granted that\n Khartoum has fallen through the exhaustion of its means of\n defence. But your Majesty may observe from the telegram that this\n is uncertain. Both the correspondent's account and that of Major\n Wortley refer to the delivery of the town by treachery, a\n contingency which on some previous occasions General Gordon has\n treated as far from improbable; and which, if the notice existed,\n was likely to operate quite independently of the particular time\n at which a relieving force might arrive. The presence of the enemy\n in force would naturally suggest the occasion, or perhaps even the\n apprehension of the approach of the British army. In pointing to\n these considerations, Mr. Gladstone is far from assuming that they\n are conclusive upon the whole case; in dealing with which the\n government has hardly ever at any of its stages been furnished\n sufficiently with those means of judgment which rational men\n usually require. It may be that, on a retrospect, many errors will\n appear to have been committed. There are many reproaches, from the\n most opposite quarters, to which it might be difficult to supply a\n conclusive answer. Among them, and perhaps among the most\n difficult, as far as Mr. Gladstone can judge, would be the\n reproach of those who might argue that our proper business was the\n protection of Egypt, that it never was in military danger from the\n Mahdi, and that the most prudent course would have been to provide\n it with adequate frontier defences, and to assume no\n responsibility for the lands beyond the desert.\n\n\nOne word more. Writing to one of his former colleagues long after Mr.\nGladstone says:--\n\n\n _Jan. 10, '90._--In the Gordon case we all, and I rather\n prominently, must continue to suffer in silence. Gordon was a\n hero, and a hero of heroes; but we ought to have known that a hero\n of heroes is not the proper person to give effect at a distant\n point, and in most difficult circumstances, to the views of\n ordinary men. It was unfortunate that he should claim the hero's\n privilege by turning upside down and inside out every idea and\n intention with which he had left England, and for which he had\n obtained our approval. Had my views about Zobeir prevailed, it\n would not have removed our difficulties, as Forster would\n certainly have moved, and with the tories and the Irish have\n carried, a condemnatory address. My own opinion is that it is\n harder to justify our doing so much to rescue him, than our not\n doing more. Had the party reached Khartoum in time, he would not\n have come away (as I suppose), and the dilemma would have arisen\n in another form.\n\n\nIn 1890 an application was made to Mr. Gladstone by a certain foreign\nwriter who had undertaken an article on Gordon and his mission. Mr.\nGladstone's reply (Jan. 11, '90) runs to this effect:--\n\n\n I am much obliged by your kind letter and enclosure. I hope you\n will not think it belies this expression when I say that I feel\n myself precluded from supplying any material or entering upon any\n communications for the purpose of self-defence against the charges\n which are freely made and I believe widely accepted against myself\n and against the cabinet of 1880-5 in connection with General\n Gordon. It would be felt in this country, by friends I think in\n many cases as well as adversaries, that General Gordon's\n much-lamented death ought to secure him, so far as we are\n concerned, against the counter-argument which we should have to\n present on his language and proceedings. On this account you will,\n I hope, excuse me from entering into the matter. I do not doubt\n that a true and equitable judgment will eventually prevail.(110)\n\n\n\n\nChapter X. Interior Of The Cabinet. (1895)\n\n\n I am aware that the age is not what we all wish, but I am sure\n that the only means to check its degeneracy is heartily to concur\n in whatever is best in our time.--BURKE.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe year 1885 must be counted as in some respects the severest epoch of\nMr. Gladstone's life. The previous twelve months had not ended cheerfully.\nSleep, the indispensable restorer, and usually his constant friend, was\nplaying him false. The last entry in his diary was this:--\n\n\n The year closed with a bad night, only one hour and a half of\n sleep, which will hardly do to work upon. There is much that I\n should like to have recorded.... But the pressure on me is too\n great for the requisite recollection. It is indeed a time of\n _Sturm und Drang_. What with the confusion of affairs, and the\n disturbance of my daily life by the altered character of my\n nights, I cannot think in calm, but can only trust and pray.\n\n\nHe was unable to be present at the dinner of the tenants, and his eldest\nson in his absence dwelt once more on his father's wish to retire,\nwhenever occasion should come, from the public service, or at least from\nthat kind of service to the public which imposed on him such arduous\nefforts.\n\nOne great element of confusion was the sphinx's riddle of Egyptian\nfinance. On his birthday, among a dozen occupations, he says: \"A little\nwoodcraft for helping sleep; wrote mem. on Egyptian finance which I hope\nmay help to clear my brain and nerves.\" And this was a characteristic way\nof seeking a cure; for now and at every time, any task that demanded close\nthought and firm expression was his surest (M67) sedative. More perplexing\neven than the successive problems of the hour, was the threatened\ndisorganisation, not only of his cabinet, but of the party and its future.\nOn January 20 he was forced to London for two Egyptian cabinets, but he\nspeedily returned to Hawarden, whence he immediately wrote a letter to\nLord Granville:--\n\n\n _January 22, 1885._--Here I am after a journey of 5-1/2 hours from\n door to door, through the unsought and ill-deserved kindness of\n the London and North-Western railway, which entirely spoils me by\n special service.\n\n There was one part of my conversation of to-day with Hartington\n which I should like not to leave in any case without record. He\n referred to the difficulties he had had, and he \"gratefully\"\n acknowledged the considerateness of the cabinet. He said the point\n always urged upon him was, not to break up the liberal party. But,\n he said, can we avoid its breaking up, within a very short time\n after you retire, and ought this consideration therefore to be\n regarded as of such very great force? I said, my reply is in two\n sentences. First, I admit that from various symptoms it is not\n improbable there may be a plan or intention to break up the party.\n But if a rupture of that kind comes,--this is my second sentence--it\n will come upon matters of principle, known and understood by the\n whole country, and your duty will probably be clear and your\n position unembarrassed. But I entreat you to use your utmost\n endeavour to avoid bringing about the rupture on one of the points\n of this Egyptian question, which lies outside the proper business\n of a government and is beyond its powers, which does not turn upon\n clear principles of politics, and about which the country\n understands almost nothing, and cares, for the most part, very\n little. All this he took without rejoinder.\n\n _P.S._--We are going to Holker next week, and Hartington said he\n would try to come and see me there.\n\n\nAs we have already seen,(111) Mr. Gladstone paid his visit to Holker\n(January 30), where he found the Duke of Devonshire \"wonderfully well, and\nkind as ever,\" where he was joined by Lord Hartington, and where they\ntogether spelled out the cipher telegram (on February 5) bringing the evil\nnews of the fall of Khartoum.\n\nIt is not uninteresting to see how the notion of Mr. Gladstone's\nretirement, now much talked of in his family, affected a friendly,\nphilosophic, and most observant onlooker. Lord Acton wrote to him\n(February 2):--\n\n\n You mean that the new parliament, the first of our democratic\n constitution, shall begin its difficult and perilous course\n without the services of a leader who has greater experience and\n authority than any other man. You design to withdraw your\n assistance when most urgently needed, at the moment of most\n conservative apprehension and most popular excitement. By the\n choice of this particular moment for retirement you increase the\n danger of the critical transition, because nobody stands as you do\n between the old order of things and the new, or inspires general\n confidence; and the lieutenants of Alexander are not at their\n best. Next year's change will appear vast and formidable to the\n suspicious foreigner, who will be tempted to doubt our identity.\n It is in the national interest to reduce the outer signs of\n change, to bridge the apparent chasm, to maintain the traditional\n character of the state. The unavoidable elements of weakness will\n be largely and voluntarily aggravated by their untimely\n coincidence with an event which must, at any time, be a blow to\n the position of England among the Powers. Your absence just then\n must grievously diminish our credit.... You alone inspire\n confidence that what is done for the great masses shall be done\n with a full sense of economic responsibility.... A divided liberal\n party and a weak conservative party mean the supremacy of the\n revolutionary Irish....\n\n\nTo this Mr. Gladstone replied:--\n\n\n _10 Downing Street, Feb. 11, 1885._ Your argument against letting\n the outworn hack go to grass, depends wholly on a certain\n proposition, namely this, that there is about to be a crisis in\n the history of the constitution, growing out of the extension of\n the franchise, and that it is my duty to do what I can in aiding\n to steer the ship through the boiling waters of this crisis. My\n answer is simple. There is no crisis at all in view. There is a\n process of slow modification and development mainly in directions\n which I view with misgiving. \"Tory democracy,\" the favourite idea\n on that side, is no more like the conservative party in which I\n was bred, than it is like liberalism. In fact less. It is\n demagogism, only a demagogism not ennobled by love and\n appreciation of liberty, but applied in the worst way, to put down\n the pacific, law-respecting, economic elements which ennobled the\n old conservatism, living upon the fomentation of angry passions,\n and still in secret as obstinately attached as ever to the evil\n principle of class interests. The liberalism of to-day is better\n in what I have described as ennobling the old conservatism; nay,\n much better, yet far from being good. Its pet idea is what they\n call construction,--that is to say, taking into the hands of the\n state the business of the individual man. Both the one and the\n other have much to estrange me, and have had for many, many years.\n But, with all this, there is no crisis. I have even the hope that\n while the coming change may give undue encouragement to\n \"construction,\" it will be favourable to the economic, pacific,\n law-regarding elements; and the sense of justice which abides\n tenaciously in the masses will never knowingly join hands with the\n fiend of Jingoism. On the whole, I do not abandon the hope that it\n may mitigate the chronic distemper, and have not the smallest fear\n of its bringing about an acute or convulsive action. You leave me\n therefore rooted in my evil mind....\n\n\nThe activity of the left wing, acute, perhaps, but not convulsive, became\nmuch more embarrassing than the desire of the right wing to be inactive.\nMr. Chamberlain had been rapidly advancing in public prominence, and he\nnow showed that the agitation against the House of Lords was to be only\nthe beginning and not the end. At Ipswich (January 14), he said this\ncountry had been called the paradise of the rich, and warned his audience\nno longer to allow it to remain the purgatory of the poor. He told them\nthat reform of local government must be almost the first reform of the\nnext parliament, and spoke in favour of allotments, the creation of small\nproprietors, the placing of a small tax on the total property of the\ntaxpayer, and of free education. Mr. Gladstone's attention was drawn from\nWindsor to these utterances, and he replied (January 22) that though he\nthought some of them were \"on various grounds open to grave objection,\"\nyet they seemed to raise no \"definite point on which, in his capacity of\nprime minister, he was entitled to interfere and lecture the speaker.\" A\nfew days later, more terrible things were said by Mr. Chamberlain at\nBirmingham. He pronounced for the abolition of plural voting, and in\nfavour of payment of members, and manhood suffrage. He also advocated a\nbill for enabling local communities to acquire land, a graduated\nincome-tax, and the breaking up of the great estates as the first step in\nland reform. This deliverance was described by not unfriendly critics as\n\"a little too much the speech of the agitator of the future, rather than\nof the minister of the present.\" Mr. Gladstone made a lenient\ncommunication to the orator, to the effect that \"there had better be some\nexplanations among them when they met.\" To Lord Granville he wrote\n(January 31):--\n\n\n Upon the whole, weak-kneed liberals have caused us more trouble in\n the present parliament than radicals. But I think these\n declarations by Chamberlain upon matters which cannot, humanly\n speaking, become practical before the next parliament, can hardly\n be construed otherwise than as having a remote and (in that sense)\n far-sighted purpose which is ominous enough. The opposition can\n hardly fail in their opportunity, I must add in their duty, to\n make them matter of attack. Such things will happen casually from\n time to time, and always with inconvenience--but there is here a\n degree of method and system which seem to give the matter a new\n character.\n\n\nIt will be seen from his tone that Mr. Gladstone, in all the\nembarrassments arising from this source, showed complete freedom from\npersonal irritation. Like the lofty-minded man he was, he imputed no low\nmotives to a colleague because the colleague gave him trouble. He\nrecognised by now that in his cabinet the battle was being fought between\nold time and new. He did not allow his dislike of some of the new methods\nof forming public opinion, to prevent him from doing full justice to the\nenergetic and sincere public spirit behind them. He had, moreover, quite\nenough to do with (M68) the demands of the present, apart from signs that\nwere ominous for the future. A year before, in a letter to Lord Granville\n(March 24, 1884), he had attempted a definition that will, perhaps, be of\ngeneral interest to politicians of either party complexion. It is, at any\nrate, characteristic of his subtlety, if that be the right word, in\ndrawing distinctions:--\n\n\n What are divisions in a cabinet? In my opinion, differences of\n views stated, and if need be argued, and then advisedly\n surrendered with a view to a common conclusion are not \"divisions\n in a cabinet.\" By that phrase I understand unaccommodated\n differences on matters standing for immediate action.\n\n\nIt was unaccommodated differences of this kind that cost Mr. Disraeli\nsecessions on the Reform bill, and secessions no less serious on his\neastern policy, and it is one of the wonders of his history that Mr.\nGladstone prevented secession on the matters now standing for immediate\naction before his own cabinet. During the four months between the meeting\nof parliament and the fall of the government, the two great difficulties\nof the government--Egypt and Ireland--reached their climax.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe news of the fall of Khartoum reached England on February 5. One of the\nleast points, as Mr. Gladstone wrote on the day, was that the grievous\nnews would put an end to the government, and so it very nearly did. As was\nto be expected, Sir Stafford Northcote moved a vote of censure. Mr.\nGladstone informed the Queen, on the day before the division, that the\naspect of the House was \"dubious and equivocal.\" If there was a chance of\noverthrowing the ministry, he said, the nationalists were pretty sure to\nact and vote as a body with Sir Stafford. Mr. Forster, Mr. Goschen, and\nsome members of the whig section of the liberal party, were likely either\nto do the same, or else to abstain. These circumstances looked towards an\nunfavourable issue, if not in the shape of an adverse majority, yet in the\nform of a majority too small to enable the government to carry on with\nadequate authority and efficiency. In the debate, said Mr. Gladstone, Lord\nHartington re-stated with measured force the position of the government,\nand overthrew the contention that had taken a very forward place in the\nindictment against ministers, that their great offence was the failure to\nsend forward General Graham's force to relieve General Gordon. In the\ncourse of this debate Mr. Goschen warned the government that if they\nflinched from the policy of smashing the Mahdi at Khartoum, he should vote\nagainst them. A radical below the gangway upon this went to the party whip\nand declared, with equal resolution, that if the government insisted on\nthe policy, then it would be for him and others to vote against them. Sir\nWilliam Harcourt, in a speech of great power, satisfied the gentlemen\nbelow the gangway, and only a small handful of the party went into the\nlobby with the opposition and the Irish. The division was taken at four in\nthe morning (February 28), and the result was that the government which\nhad come in with morning radiance five years ago, was worn down to an\nattenuated majority of fourteen.(112)\n\nWhen the numbers were declared, Mr. Gladstone said to a colleague on the\nbench, \"_That will do._\" Whether this delphic utterance meant that the\nsize of the majority would justify resignation or retention, the colleague\nwas not sure. When the cabinet met at a more mellowed hour in the day, the\nquestion between going out of office and staying in, was fully discussed.\nMere considerations of ease all pointed one way, for, if they held on,\nthey would seem to be dependent on tory support; trouble was brewing with\nRussia, and the Seats bill would not be through in a hurry. On the other\nhand, fourteen was majority enough to swear by, the party would be\nsurprised by resignation and discouraged, and retirement would wear the\nlook of a false position. In fact Mr. Gladstone, in spite of his incessant\nsighs for a hermit's calm, was always for fighting out every position to\nthe last trench. I can think of no exception, and even when the time came\nten years later, he thought his successors pusillanimous for (M69)\nretiring on a small scratch defeat on cordite.(113) So now he acted on the\nprinciple that with courage cabinets may weather almost any storm. No\nactual vote was taken, but the numbers for and against retirement were\nequal, until Mr. Gladstone spoke. He thought that they should try to go\non, at least until the Seats bill was through. This was the final\ndecision.\n\nAll this brought once more into his mind the general consideration that\nnow naturally much haunted him. He wrote to the Queen (February 27):--\n\n\n Mr. Gladstone believes that circumstances independent of his own\n will enable him to estimate, with some impartiality, future\n political changes, and he is certainly under the impression that,\n partly from the present composition and temper of the liberal\n party, and still more, and even much more, from the changes which\n the conservative party has been undergoing during the last forty\n years (especially the last ten or fifteen of them), the next\n change of government may possibly form the introduction to a\n period presenting some new features, and may mean more than what\n is usually implied in the transfer of power from one party to\n another.\n\n\nMr. Bright has left a note of a meeting with him at this time:--\n\n\n _March 2, 1885._--Dined with Mrs. Gladstone. After dinner, sat for\n half an hour or more with Mr. Gladstone, who is ill with cold and\n hoarseness. Long talk on Egypt. He said he had suffered torment\n during the continuance of the difficulty in that country. The\n sending Gordon out a great mistake,--a man totally unsuited for the\n work he undertook. Mr. Gladstone never saw Gordon. He was\n appointed by ministers in town, and Gladstone concurred, but had\n never seen him.\n\n\nAt this moment clouds began to darken the remote horizon on the north-west\nboundary of our great Indian possessions. The entanglement in the deserts\nof the Soudan was an obvious temptation to any other Power with policies\nof its own, to disregard the susceptibilities or even the solid interests\nof Great Britain. As we shall see, Mr. Gladstone was as little disposed as\nChatham or Palmerston to shrink from the defence of the legitimate rights\nor obligations of his country. But the action of Russia in Afghanistan\nbecame an added and rather poignant anxiety.\n\nAs early as March 12 the cabinet found it necessary to consider the\nmenacing look of things on the Afghan frontier. Military necessities in\nIndia, as Mr. Gladstone described to the Queen what was in the mind of her\nministers, \"might conceivably at this juncture come to overrule the\npresent intentions as to the Soudan as part of them, and it would\nconsequently be imprudent to do anything which could practically extend\nour obligations in that quarter; as it is the entanglement of the British\nforces in Soudanese operations, which would most powerfully tempt Russia\nto adopt aggressive measures.\" Three or four weeks later these\nconsiderations came to a head. The question put by Mr. Gladstone to his\ncolleagues was this: \"Apart from the defence of Egypt, which no one would\npropose to abandon, does there appear to be any obligation of honour or\nany inducement of policy (for myself I should add, is there any moral\nwarrant?) that should lead us in the present state of the demands on the\nempire, to waste a large portion of our army in fighting against nature,\nand I fear also fighting against liberty (such liberty as the case admits)\nin the Soudan?\" The assumptions on which the policy had been founded had\nall broken down. Osman Digna, instead of being readily crushed, had\nbetaken himself to the mountains and could not be got at. The railway from\nSuakin to Berber, instead of serving the advance on Khartoum in the\nautumn, could not possibly be ready in time. Berber, instead of being\ntaken before the hot season, could not be touched. Lord Wolseley, instead\nof being able to proceed with his present forces or a moderate addition,\nwas already asking for twelve more battalions of infantry, with a\nproportion of other arms.\n\nMr. Gladstone's own view of this crisis is to be found in a memorandum\ndated April 9, circulated to the cabinet three or four days before the\nquestion came up for final settlement. (M70) It is long, but then the case\nwas intricate and the stages various. The reader may at least be satisfied\nto know that he will have little more of it.(114)\n\nThree cabinets were held on three successive days (April 13-15). On the\nevening of the first day Mr. Gladstone sent a telegram to the Queen, then\nabroad, informing her that in the existing state of foreign affairs, her\nministers felt bound to examine the question of the abandonment of\noffensive operations in the Soudan and the evacuation of the territory.\nThe Queen, in reply, was rather vehement against withdrawal, partly on the\nground that it would seriously affect our position in India. The Queen had\nthroughout made a great point that the fullest powers should be granted to\nthose on the spot, both Wolseley and Baring having been selected by the\ngovernment for the offices they held. No question cuts deeper in the art\nof administering a vast system like that of Great Britain, than the\ninfluence of the agent at a distant place; nowhere is the balance of peril\nbetween too slack a rein from home and a rein too tight, more delicate.\nMr. Gladstone, perhaps taught by the experience of the Crimean war, always\nstrongly inclined to the school of the tight rein, though I never heard of\nany representative abroad with a right to complain of insufficient support\nfrom a Gladstone cabinet.(115) On this aspect of matters, so raised by the\nQueen, Mr. Gladstone had (March 15) expressed his view to Sir Henry\nPonsonby:--\n\n\n Sir Evelyn Baring was appointed to carry onwards a declared and\n understood policy in Egypt, when all share in the management of\n the Soudan was beyond our province. To Lord Wolseley as general of\n the forces in Egypt, and on account of the arduous character of\n the work before him, we are bound to render in all military\n matters a firm and ungrudging support. We have accordingly not\n scrupled to counsel, on his recommendation, very heavy charges on\n the country, and military operations of the highest importance.\n But we have no right to cast on him any responsibility beyond what\n is strictly military. It is not surely possible that he should\n decide policy, and that we should adopt and answer for it, even\n where it is in conflict with the announcements we have made in\n parliament.\n\n\nBy the time of these critical cabinets in April Sir Evelyn Baring had\nspontaneously expressed his views, and with a full discussion recommended\nabandonment of the expedition to Khartoum.\n\nOn the second day the matter was again probed and sifted and weighed.\n\nAt the third cabinet the decision was taken to retire from the Soudan, and\nto fix the southern frontier of Egypt at the line where it was left for\ntwelve years, until apprehension of designs of another European power on\nthe upper waters of the Nile was held to demand a new policy. Meanwhile,\nthe policy of Mr. Gladstone's cabinet was adopted and followed by Lord\nSalisbury when he came into office. He was sometimes pressed to reverse\nit, and to overthrow the dervish power at Khartoum. To any importunity of\nthis kind, Lord Salisbury's answer was until 1896 unwavering.(116)\n\nIt may be worth noting that, in the course of his correspondence with the\nQueen on the change of policy in the Soudan, Mr. Gladstone casually\nindulged in the luxury of a historical parallel. \"He must assure your\nMajesty,\" he wrote in a closing sentence (April 20), \"that at least he has\nnever in any cabinet known any question more laboriously or more\nconscientiously discussed; and he is confident that the basis of action\nhas not been the mere change in the public view (which, however, is in\nsome cases imperative, as it was with King George III. in the case of the\nAmerican war), but a deep conviction of what the honour and interest of\nthe empire require them as faithful servants of your Majesty to advise.\"\n(M71) The most harmless parallel is apt to be a challenge to discussion,\nand the parenthesis seems to have provoked some rejoinder from the Queen,\nfor on April 28 Mr. Gladstone wrote to her secretary a letter which takes\nhim away from Khartoum to a famous piece of the world's history:--\n\n\n _To Sir Henry Ponsonby._\n\n In further prosecution of my reply to your letter of the 25th, I\n advert to your remarks upon Lord North. I made no reference to his\n conduct, I believe, in writing to her Majesty. What I endeavoured\n to show was that King George III., without changing his opinion of\n the justice of his war against the colonies, was obliged to give\n it up on account of a change of public opinion, and was not open\n to blame for so doing.\n\n You state to me that Lord North never flinched from his task till\n it became hopeless, that he then resigned office, but did not\n change his opinions to suit the popular cry. The implied contrast\n to be drawn with the present is obvious. I admit none of your\n three propositions. Lord North did not, as I read history, require\n to change his opinions to suit the popular cry. They were already\n in accordance with the popular cry; and it is a serious reproach\n against him that without sharing his master's belief in the\n propriety of the war, he long persisted in carrying it on, through\n subserviency to that master.\n\n Lord North did not resign office for any reason but because he\n could not help it, being driven from it by some adverse votes of\n the House of Commons, to which he submitted with great good\n humour, and probably with satisfaction.\n\n Lord North did not, so far as I know, state the cause to be\n hopeless. Nor did those who were opposed to him. The movers of the\n resolution that drove him out of office did not proceed upon that\n ground. General Conway in his speech advised the retention of the\n ground we held in the colonies, and the resolution, which\n expressed the sense of the House as a body, bears a singular\n resemblance to the announcement we have lately made, as it\n declares, in its first clause, that the further prosecution of\n offensive war (on the continent of America) \"will be the means of\n weakening the efforts of this country against her European\n enemies,\" February 27, 1782. This was followed, on March 4, by an\n address on the same basis; and by a resolution declaring that any\n ministers who should advise or attempt to frustrate it should be\n considered \"as enemies to his Majesty and to this country.\" I\n ought, perhaps, to add that I have never stated, and I do not\n conceive, that a change in the public opinion of the country is\n the ground on which the cabinet have founded the change in their\n advice concerning the Soudan.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe reader has by this time perhaps forgotten how Mr. Gladstone\ngood-humouredly remonstrated with Lord Palmerston for associating him as\none of the same school as Cobden and Bright.(117) The twenty intervening\nyears had brought him more and more into sympathy with those two eminent\ncomrades in good causes, but he was not any less alive to the\ninconvenience of the label. Speaking in Midlothian after the dissolution\nin 1880, he denied the cant allegation that to instal the liberals in\npower would be to hand over the destinies of the country to the Manchester\nschool.(118) \"Abhorring all selfishness of policy,\" he said, \"friendly to\nfreedom in every country of the earth attached, to the modes of reason,\ndetesting the ways of force, this Manchester school, this peace-party, has\nsprung prematurely to the conclusion that wars may be considered as having\nclosed their melancholy and miserable history, and that the affairs of the\nworld may henceforth be conducted by methods more adapted to the dignity\nof man, more suited both to his strength and to his weakness, less likely\nto lead him out of the ways of duty, to stimulate his evil passions, to\nmake him guilty before God for inflicting misery on his fellow-creatures.\"\nSuch a view, he said, was a serious error, though it was not only a\nrespectable, it was even a noble error. Then he went on, \"However much you\nmay detest war--and you cannot detest it too much--there is no war--except\none, the war for liberty--that does not contain in it elements of\ncorruption, as well as of misery, that are deplorable to recollect and to\nconsider; but however deplorable wars may be, they are among the\nnecessities of our condition; and there are times when justice, when\nfaith, when the welfare of mankind, require a man not to shrink from the\nresponsibility of undertaking them. And if you undertake war, so also you\nare often obliged to undertake measures that may lead to war.\"(119)\n\nIt is also, if not one of the necessities, at least one of the natural\nprobabilities of our imperfect condition, that when a nation has its\nforces engaged in war, that is the moment when other nations may press\ninconvenient questions of their own. Accordingly, as I have already\nmentioned, when Egyptian distractions were at their height, a dangerous\ncontroversy arose with Russia in regard to the frontier of Afghanistan.\nThe question had been first raised a dozen years before without effect,\nbut it was now sharpened into actuality by recent advances of Russia in\nCentral Asia, bringing her into close proximity to the territory of the\nAmeer. The British and Russian governments appointed a commission to lay\ndown the precise line of division between the Turcoman territory recently\nannexed by Russia and Afghanistan. The question of instructions to the\ncommission led to infinite discussion, of which no sane man not a\nbiographer is now likely to read one word. While the diplomatists were\nthus teasing one another, Russian posts and Afghan pickets came closer\ntogether, and one day (March 30, 1885) the Russians broke in upon the\nAfghans at Penjdeh. The Afghans fought gallantly, their losses were heavy,\nand Penjdeh was occupied by the Russians. \"Whose was the provocation,\" as\nMr. Gladstone said later, \"is a matter of the utmost consequence. We only\nknow that the attack was a Russian attack. We know that the Afghans\nsuffered in life, in spirit, and in repute. We know that a blow was struck\nat the credit and the authority of a sovereign--our protected ally--who had\ncommitted no offence. All I say is, we cannot in that state of things\nclose this book and say, 'We will look into it no more.' We must do our\nbest to have right done in the matter.\"\n\nHere those who were most adverse to the Soudan policy stood firmly with\ntheir leader, and when Mr. Gladstone proposed a vote of credit for eleven\nmillions, of which six and a half were demanded to meet \"the case for\npreparation,\" raised by the collision at Penjdeh, he was supported with\nmuch more than a mechanical loyalty, alike by the regular opposition and\nby independent adherents below his own gangway. The speech in which he\nmoved this vote of a war supply (April 27) was an admirable example both\nof sustained force and lucidity in exposition, and of a combined firmness,\ndignity, reserve, and right human feeling, worthy of a great minister\ndealing with an international situation of extreme delicacy and peril.\nMany anxious moments followed; for the scene of quarrel was far off,\ndetails were hard to clear up, diplomacy was sometimes ambiguous, popular\nexcitement was heated, and the language of faction was unmeasured in its\nviolence. The preliminary resolution on the vote of credit had been\nreceived with acclamation, but a hostile motion was made from the front\nopposition bench (May 11), though discord on a high imperial matter was\nobviously inconvenient enough for the public interest. The mover declared\nthe government to have murdered so many thousand men and to have arranged\na sham arbitration, and this was the prelude to other speeches in the same\nkey. Sir S. Northcote supported the motion--one to displace the ministers\non a bill that it was the declared intention not to oppose. The division\nwas taken at half-past two in the morning, after a vigorous speech from\nthe prime minister, and the government only counted 290 against 260. In\nthe minority were 42 followers of Mr. Parnell. This premature debate\ncleared the air. Worked with patience and with vigorous preparations at\nthe back of conciliatory negotiation, the question was prosecuted to a\nhappy issue, and those who had done their (M72) best to denounce Mr.\nGladstone and Lord Granville for trampling the interests and honour of\ntheir country underfoot thought themselves very lucky, when the time came\nfor them to take up the threads, in being able to complete the business by\nadopting and continuing the selfsame line. With justifiable triumph Mr.\nGladstone asked how they would have confronted Russia if \"that insane\npolicy--for so I still must call it\"--of Afghan occupation which he had\nbrought to an end in 1880, had been persevered in. In such a case, when\nRussia came to advance her claim so to adjust boundaries as to make her\nimmediate neighbour to Afghanistan, she would have found the country full\nof friends and allies, ready to join her in opposing the foreigner and the\ninvader; and she would have been recognised as the liberator.(120)\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIn some respects Mr. Gladstone was never more wonderful than in the few\nweeks that preceded the fall of his second administration. Between the\nmiddle of April and the middle of May, he jots down with half-rueful\nhumour the names of no fewer than nine members of the cabinet who within\nthat period, for one reason or another and at one moment or another,\nappeared to contemplate resignation; that is to say a majority. Of one\nmeeting he said playfully to a colleague, \"A very fair cabinet to-day--only\nthree resignations.\" The large packets of copious letters of this date,\nwritten and received, show him a minister of unalterable patience,\nunruffled self-command; inexhaustible in resource, catching at every straw\nfrom the resource of others, indefatigable in bringing men of divergent\nopinions within friendly reach of one another; of tireless ingenuity in\nminimising differences and convincing recalcitrants that what they took\nfor a yawning gulf was in fact no more than a narrow trench that any\ndecent political gymnast ought to be ashamed not to be able to vault over.\nThough he takes it all as being in the day's work, in the confidence of\nthe old jingle, that be the day short or never so long, at length it\nringeth to evensong, he does not conceal the burden. To Mrs. Gladstone he\nwrites from Downing Street on May-day:--\n\n\n Rather oppressed and tired with the magnitude and the complication\n of subjects on my mind, I did not think of writing by the first\n post, but I will now supply the omission by making use of the\n second. As to all the later history of this ministry, which is now\n entering on its sixth year, it has been a wild romance of\n politics, with a continual succession of hairbreadth escapes and\n strange accidents pressing upon one another, and it is only from\n the number of dangers we have passed through already, that one can\n be bold enough to hope we may pass also through what yet remain.\n Some time ago I told you that dark as the sky was with many a\n thunder-cloud, there were the possibilities of an admirable\n situation and result, and _for me_ a wind-up better than at any\n time I could have hoped. Russia and Ireland are the two _great_\n dangers remaining. The \"ray\" I mentioned yesterday for the first\n is by no means extinct to-day, but there is nothing new of a\n serious character; what there is, is good. So also upon the Irish\n complications there is more hope than there was yesterday,\n although the odds may still be heavily against our getting forward\n unitedly in a satisfactory manner.\n\n\nOn May 2, as he was looking at the pictures in the Academy, Lord Granville\nbrought him tidings of the Russian answer, which meant peace. His short\nentries tell a brave story:--\n\n\n _May 3, Sunday._--Dined at Marlborough House. They were most kind\n and pleasant. But it is so unsundaylike and unrestful. I am much\n fatigued in mind and body. Yet very happy. _May 4._--Wrote to Lord\n Spencer, Mr. Chamberlain, Sir C. Dilke, Lord Granville. Conclave.\n H. of C., 4-3/4-8-1/2 and 9-1/2-2-1/2. Spoke on Russian question. A heavy\n day. Much knocked up. _May 5._--... Another anxious, very anxious\n day, and no clearing of the sky as yet. But after all that has\n come, what may not come? _May 14, Ascension Day._--Most of the day\n was spent in anxious interviews, and endeavours to bring and keep\n the members of the cabinet together. _May 15._--Cabinet 2-4-1/2.\n Again stiff. But I must not lose heart.\n\n\n(M73) Difference of opinion upon the budget at one time wore a threatening\nlook, for the radicals disliked the proposed increase of the duty on beer;\nbut Mr. Gladstone pointed out in compensation that on the other hand the\nequalisation of the death duties struck at the very height of class\npreference. Mr. Childers was, as always, willing to accommodate\ndifficulties; and in the cabinet the rising storm blew over. Ireland never\nblows over.\n\nThe struggle had gone on for three years. Many murderers had been hanged,\nthough more remained undetected; conspirators had fled; confidence was\nrestored to public officers; society in all its various grades returned\nexternally to the paths of comparative order; and the dire emergency of\nthree years before had been brought to an apparent close. The gratitude in\nthis country to the viceroy who had achieved this seeming triumph over the\nforces of disorder was such as is felt to a military commander after a\nhazardous and successful campaign. The country was once more\nhalf-conquered, but nothing was advanced, and the other half of the\nconquest was not any nearer. The scene was not hopeful. There lay\nIreland,--squalid, dismal, sullen, dull, expectant, sunk deep in hostile\nintent. A minority with these misgivings and more felt that the minister's\npregnant phrase about the government \"having no moral force behind them\"\ntoo exactly described a fatal truth.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XI. Defeat Of Ministers. (May-June 1885)\n\n\n {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH DASIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER XI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}.\n\n --AESCH. _Prom._ V. 548.\n\n Never do counsels of mortal men thwart the ordered purpose of\n Zeus.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nWhat was to be the Irish policy? The Crimes Act would expire in August,\nand the state of parties in parliament and of sections within the cabinet,\ntogether with the approach of the general election, made the question\nwhether that Act should be renewed, and if so on what terms, an issue of\ncrucial importance. There were good grounds for suspecting that tories\nwere even then intimating to the Irish that if Lord Salisbury should come\ninto office, they would drop coercion, just as the liberals had dropped it\nwhen they came into office in 1880, and like them would rely upon the\nordinary law. On May 15 Mr. Gladstone announced in terms necessarily\nvague, because the new bill was not settled, that they proposed to\ncontinue what he described as certain clauses of a valuable and equitable\ndescription in the existing Coercion Act.\n\nNo parliamentary situation could be more tempting to an astute opposition.\nThe signs that the cabinet was not united were unmistakable. The leader of\nthe little group of four clever men below the gangway on the tory side\ngave signs that he espied an opportunity. This was one of the occasions\nthat disclosed the intrepidity of Lord Randolph Churchill. He made a\nspeech after Mr. Gladstone's announcement of a (M74) renewal of portions\nof the Crimes Act, not in his place but at a tory club. He declared\nhimself profoundly shocked that so grave an announcement should have been\ntaken as a matter of course. It was really a terrible piece of news.\nIreland must be in an awful state, or else the radical members of the\ncabinet would never have assented to such unanswerable evidence that the\nliberal party could not govern Ireland without resort to that arbitrary\nforce which their greatest orators had so often declared to be no remedy.\nIt did not much matter whether the demand was for large powers or for\nsmall. Why not put some kind thoughts towards England in Irish minds, by\nusing the last days of this unlucky parliament to abrogate all that harsh\nlegislation which is so odious to England, and which undoubtedly abridges\nthe freedom and insults the dignity of a sensitive and imaginative race?\nThe tory party should be careful beyond measure not to be committed to any\nact or policy which should unnecessarily wound or injure the feelings of\nour brothers on the other side of the channel of St. George.(121)\n\nThe key to an operation that should at once, with the aid of the\ndisaffected liberals and the Irish, turn out Mr. Gladstone and secure the\nEnglish elections, was an understanding with Mr. Parnell. The price of\nsuch an understanding was to drop coercion, and that price the tory\nleaders resolved to pay. The manoeuvre was delicate. If too plainly\ndisclosed, it might outrage some of the tory rank and file who would\nloathe an Irish alliance, and it was likely, moreover, to deter some of\nthe disaffected liberals from joining in any motion for Mr. Gladstone's\noverthrow. Lord Salisbury and his friends considered the subject with\n\"immense deliberation some weeks before the fall of the government.\" They\ncame to the conclusion that in the absence of official information, they\ncould see nothing to warrant a government in applying for a renewal of\nexceptional powers. That conclusion they profess to have kept sacredly in\ntheir own bosoms. Why they should give immense deliberation to a decision\nthat in their view must be worthless without official information, and\nthat was to remain for an indefinite time in mysterious darkness, was\nnever explained when this secret decision some months later was revealed\nto the public.(122) If there was no intention of making the decision known\nto the Irishmen, the purpose of so unusual a proceeding would be\ninscrutable. Was it made known to them? Mr. McCarthy, at the time acting\nfor his leader, has described circumstantially how the Irish were\nendeavouring to obtain a pledge against coercion; how two members of the\ntory party, one of them its recognised whip, came to him in succession\ndeclaring that they came straight from Lord Salisbury with certain\npropositions; how he found the assurance unsatisfactory, and asked each of\nthese gentlemen in turn on different nights to go back to Lord Salisbury,\nand put further questions to him; and how each of them professed to have\ngone back to Lord Salisbury, to have conferred with him, and to have\nbrought back his personal assurance.(123) On the other hand, it has been\nuniformly denied by the tory leaders that there was ever any compact\nwhatever with the Irishmen at this moment. We are not called upon here to\ndecide in a conflict of testimony which turns, after all, upon words so\nnotoriously slippery as pledge, compact, or understanding. It is enough to\nmark what is not denied, that Lord Salisbury and his confidential friends\nhad resolved, subject to official information, to drop coercion, and that\nthe only visible reason why they should form the resolution at that\nparticular moment was its probable effect upon Mr. Parnell.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nLet us now return to the ministerial camp. There the whig wing of the\ncabinet, adhering to Lord Spencer, were for a modified renewal of the\nCoercion Act, with the balm of a land purchase bill and a limited\nextension of self-government in local areas. The radical wing were averse\nto coercion, and averse to a purchase bill, but they were willing to yield\na milder form of coercion, on condition that the cabinet would agree not\nmerely to small measures of self-government in local areas, but to the\nerection of a (M75) central board clothed with important administrative\nfunctions for the whole of Ireland. In the House of Commons it was certain\nthat a fairly strong radical contingent would resist coercion in any\ndegree, and a liberal below the gangway, who had not been long in\nparliament but who had been in the press a strong opponent of the coercion\npolicy of 1881, at once gave notice that if proposals were made for the\nrenewal of exceptional law, he should move their rejection. Mr. Gladstone\nhad also to inform the Queen that in what is considered the whig or\nmoderate section of the House there had been recent indications of great\ndislike to special legislation, even of a mild character, for Ireland.\nThese proceedings are all of capital importance in an eventful year, and\nbear pretty directly upon the better known crisis of the year following.\n\nA memorandum by Mr. Gladstone of a conversation between himself and Lord\nGranville (May 6) will best show his own attitude at this opening of a\nmomentous controversy:--\n\n\n ... I told him [Granville] I had given no pledge or indication of\n my future conduct to Mr. Chamberlain, who, however, knew my\n opinions to be strong in favour of some plan for a Central Board\n of Local Government in Ireland on something of an elective\n basis.... Under the circumstances, while the duty of the hour\n evidently was to study the means of possible accommodation, the\n present aspect of affairs was that of a probable split,\n _independently_ of the question what course I might individually\n pursue. My opinions, I said, were very strong and inveterate. I\n did not calculate upon Parnell and his friends, nor upon Manning\n and his bishops. Nor was I under any obligation to follow or act\n with Chamberlain. But independently of all questions of party, of\n support, and of success, I looked upon the extension of a strong\n measure of local government like this to Ireland, now that the\n question is effectually revived by the Crimes Act, as invaluable\n itself, and as the only hopeful means of securing crown and state\n from an ignominious surrender in the next parliament after a\n mischievous and painful struggle. (I did not advert to the\n difficulties which will in this session be experienced in carrying\n on a great battle for the Crimes Act.) My difficulty would lie not\n in my pledges or declarations (though these, of a public\n character, are serious), but in my opinions.\n\n Under these circumstances, I said, I take into view the freedom of\n my own position. My engagements to my colleagues are fulfilled;\n the great Russian question is probably settled; if we stand firm\n on the Soudan, we are now released from that embarrassment; and\n the Egyptian question, if the financial convention be safe, no\n longer presents any very serious difficulties. I am entitled to\n lay down my office as having done my work.\n\n Consequently the very last thing I should contemplate is opening\n the Irish difficulty in connection with my resignation, should I\n resign. It would come antecedently to any parliamentary treatment\n of that problem. If thereafter the secession of some members\n should break up the cabinet, it would leave behind it an excellent\n record at home and abroad. Lord Granville, while ready to resign\n his office, was not much consoled by this presentation of the\n case.\n\n\nLate in the month (May 23) Mr. Gladstone wrote a long letter to the Queen,\ngiving her \"some idea of the shades of opinion existing in the cabinet\nwith reference to legislation for Ireland.\" He thought it desirable to\nsupply an outline of this kind, because the subject was sure to recur\nafter a short time, and was \"likely to exercise a most important influence\nin the coming parliament on the course of affairs.\" The two points on\nwhich there was considerable divergence of view were the expiry of the\nCrimes Act, and the concession of local government. The Irish viceroy was\nready to drop a large portion of what Mr. Gladstone called coercive\nprovisions, while retaining provisions special to Ireland, but favouring\nthe efficiency of the law. Other ministers were doubtful whether any\nspecial legislation was needed for Irish criminal law. Then on the point\nwhether the new bill should be for two years or one, some, including Mr.\nGladstone and Lord Spencer, were for the longer term, others, including\nMr. Chamberlain and Sir Charles Dilke, for the shorter. At last the whole\ncabinet agreed to two years. Next for local government,--some held that a\nliberal move in this region (M76) would possibly obviate all need for\nspecial criminal legislation, and would at any rate take the sting out of\nit. To this \"vastly important subject\" the prime minister presumed to draw\nthe Queen's special attention, as involving great and far-reaching\nquestions. He did not, he said, regard the differences of leaning in the\ncabinet upon these matters with either surprise or dismay. Such\ndifficulties were due to inherent difficulties in the matters themselves,\nand were to be expected from the action of independent and energetic minds\nin affairs so complex.\n\nThere were two main opinions. One favoured the erection of a system of\nrepresentative county government in Ireland. The other view was that\nbesides the county boards, there should be in addition a central board for\nall Ireland, essentially municipal and not political; in the main\nexecutive and administrative, but also with a power to make bye-laws,\nraise funds, and pledge public credit in such modes as parliament should\nprovide. The central board would take over education, primary, in part\nintermediate, and perhaps even higher; poor law and sanitary\nadministration; and public works. The whole charge of justice, police, and\nprisons would remain with the executive. This board would not be directly\nelective by the whole Irish people; it would be chosen by the\nrepresentative county boards. Property, moreover, should have a\nrepresentation upon it distinct from numbers. This plan, \"first made known\nto Mr. Gladstone by Mr. Chamberlain,\" would, he believed, be supported by\nsix out of the eight Commons ministers. But a larger number of ministers\nwere not prepared to agree to any plan involving the principle of an\nelective central board as the policy of the cabinet. On account of this\npreliminary bar, the particular provisions of the policy of a central\nboard were not discussed.\n\nAll this, however, was for the moment retrospective and historic, because\na fortnight before the letter was written, the policy of the central\nboard, of which Mr. Gladstone so decisively approved, had been killed. A\ncommittee of the cabinet was appointed to consider it; some remained\nstubbornly opposed; as the discussion went on, some changed their minds\nand, having resisted, at last inclined to acquiesce. Ministers were aware\nfrom the correspondence of one of them with an eminent third person, that\nMr. Parnell approved the scheme, and in consideration of it would even not\noppose a very limited Crimes bill. This, however, was no temptation to all\nof them; perhaps it had the contrary effect. When it came to the full\ncabinet, it could not be carried. All the peers except Lord Granville were\nagainst it. All the Commoners except Lord Hartington were for it. As the\ncabinet broke up (May 9), the prime minister said to one colleague, \"Ah,\nthey will rue this day\"; and to another, \"Within six years, if it please\nGod to spare their lives, they will be repenting in sackcloth and ashes.\"\nLater in the day he wrote to one of them, \"The division of opinion in the\ncabinet on the subject of local government with a central board for\nIreland was so marked, and if I may use the expression, so diametrical,\nthat I dismissed the subject from my mind, and sorrowfully accepted the\nnegative of what was either a majority, or a moiety of the entire\ncabinet.\"\n\nThis decision, more profoundly critical than anybody excepting Mr.\nGladstone and perhaps Mr. Chamberlain seemed to be aware, left all\nexisting difficulties as acute as ever. In the middle of May things looked\nvery black. The scheme for a central board was dead, though, wrote Mr.\nGladstone to the viceroy, \"for the present only. _It will quickly rise\nagain, as I think, perhaps in larger dimensions._\" Some members of the\ncabinet, he knew not how many, would resign rather than demand from\nparliament, without a Central Board bill, the new Coercion Act. If such\nresignations took place, how was a Coercion bill to be fought through the\nHouse, when some liberals had already declared that they would resist it?\n\nOn May 15 drafts not only of a Coercion bill, but of a bill for land\npurchase, came before the cabinet. Much objection was taken to land\npurchase, especially by the two radical leaders, and it was agreed to\nforego such a bill for the present session. The viceroy gravely lamented\nthis decision, and Mr. Gladstone entered into communication with Mr. (M77)\nChamberlain and Sir C. Dilke. From them he understood that their main\nanxiety sprang from a fear lest the future handling of local government\nshould be prejudiced by premature disposal of the question of land\npurchase, but that in the main they thought the question of local\ngovernment would not be prejudiced if the purchase bill only provided\nfunds for a year. Under this impression and with a full belief that he was\ngiving effect to the real desire of his colleagues in general to meet the\nviews of Lord Spencer, and finding the prospects of such a bill\nfavourable, Mr. Gladstone proceeded (May 20) to give notice of its\nintroduction. Mr. Chamberlain and Sir C. Dilke took this to be a reversal\nof the position to which they had agreed, and would not assent to land\npurchase unless definitely coupled with assurances as to local government.\nThey immediately resigned. The misapprehension was explained, and though\nthe resignations were not formally withdrawn, they were suspended. But the\ntwo radical leaders did not conceal their view of the general state of the\ncase, and in very direct terms told Mr. Gladstone that they differed so\ncompletely on the questions that were to occupy parliament for the rest of\nthe session, as to feel the continuance of the government of doubtful\nadvantage to the country. In Mr. Chamberlain's words, written to the prime\nminister at the time of the misunderstanding (May 21)--\n\n\n I feel there has been a serious misapprehension on both sides with\n respect to the Land Purchase bill, and I take blame to myself if I\n did not express myself with sufficient clearness.... I doubt very\n much if it is wise or was right to cover over the serious\n differences of principle that have lately disclosed themselves in\n the cabinet. I think it is now certain that they will cause a\n split in the new parliament, and it seems hardly fair to the\n constituencies that this should only be admitted, after they have\n discharged their function and are unable to influence the result.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nStill the prime minister altogether declined, in his own phrase, to lose\nheart, and new compromises were invented. Meanwhile he cheerfully went for\nthe Whitsuntide recess to Hawarden, and dived into Lechler's _Wycliffe_,\nWalpole's _George III._, Conrad on German Union, Cooper on the Atonement,\nand so forth. Among other guests at Hawarden came Lord Wolverton, \"with\nmuch conversation; we opened rather a new view as to my retirement.\" What\nthe new view was we do not know, but the conversation was resumed and\nagain resumed, until the unwelcome day (June 4) for return to Downing\nStreet. Before returning, however, Mr. Gladstone set forth his view of the\ninternal crisis in a letter to Lord Hartington:--\n\n\n _To Lord Hartington._\n\n _May 30, 1885._--I am sorry but not surprised that your rather\n remarkable strength should have given way under the pressure of\n labour or anxiety or both. Almost the whole period of this\n ministry, particularly the year and a half since the defeat of\n Hicks, and most particularly of all, the four months since the\n morning when you deciphered the Khartoum telegram at Holker, have\n been without example in my experience, as to the gravity and\n diversity of difficulties which they have presented. What I hope\n is that they will not discourage you, or any of our colleagues, in\n your anticipations of the future. It appears to me that there is\n not one of them, viewed in the gross, which has been due to our\n own action. By viewing in the gross, I mean taking the Egyptian\n question as one. When we subdivide between Egypt proper and the\n Soudan, I find what seem to me two grave errors in our management\n of the Soudan business: the first our _landing_ at Suakin, the\n second the mission of Gordon, or rather the choice of Gordon for\n that mission. But it sometimes happens that the errors gravest in\n their consequences are also the most pardonable. And these errors\n were surely pardonable enough in themselves, without relying on\n the fact that they were approved by the public opinion of the day\n and by the opposition. Plenty of other and worse errors have been\n urged upon us which we have refused or avoided. I do not remember\n a single good measure recommended by opponents, which we have\n declined to adopt (or indeed any good measure which they have\n recommended at all). We certainly have worked hard. I believe that\n according to the measure of human infirmity, we have done fairly\n well, but the duties we have had to discharge have been duties, I\n mean in Egypt and the Soudan, which it was impossible to discharge\n with the ordinary measure of credit and satisfaction, which were\n beyond human strength, and which it was very unwise of our\n predecessors to saddle upon the country.\n\n At this moment we have but two great _desiderata_: the Egyptian\n Convention and the Afghan settlement (the evacuation of the Soudan\n being in principle a thing done). Were these accomplished, we\n should have attained for the empire at home and abroad a position\n in most respects unusually satisfactory, and both of them _ought_\n to be near accomplishment. With the Egyptian Convention fairly at\n work, I should consider the Egyptian question as within a few\n comparatively easy stages of satisfactory solution.\n\n Now as regards the immediate subject. What if Chamberlain and\n Dilke, as you seem to anticipate, raise the question of a\n prospective declaration about local government in Ireland as a\n condition of their remaining in the cabinet? I consider that\n question as disposed of for the present (much against my will),\n and I do not see that any of us, having accepted the decision, can\n attempt to disturb it. Moreover, their ground will be very weak\n and narrow; for their actual reason of going, if they go, will be\n the really small question arising upon the Land Purchase bill.\n\n I think they will commit a great error if they take this course.\n It will be straining at the gnat. No doubt it will weaken the\n party at the election, but I entertain no fear of the immediate\n effect. Their error will, however, in my view go beyond this.\n Forgive me if I now speak with great frankness on a matter, one of\n few, in which I agree with them, and not with you. I am firmly\n convinced that on local government for Ireland they hold a winning\n position; which by resignation now they will greatly compromise.\n You will all, I am convinced, have to give what they recommend; at\n the least what they recommend.\n\n There are two differences between them and me on this subject.\n First as to the matter; I go rather further than they do; for I\n would undoubtedly make a _beginning_ with the Irish police.\n Secondly as to the _ground_; here I differ seriously. I do not\n reckon with any confidence upon Manning or Parnell; I have never\n looked much in Irish matters at negotiation or the conciliation of\n leaders. I look at the question in itself, and I am deeply\n convinced that the measure in itself will (especially if\n accompanied with similar measures elsewhere, _e.g._ in Scotland)\n be good for the country and the empire; I do not say unmixedly\n good, but with advantages enormously outweighing any drawbacks.\n\n Apart from these differences, and taking their point of view, I\n think they ought to endeavour to fight the election with you; and\n in the _new state of affairs_ which will be presented after the\n dissolution, try and see what effect may be produced upon your\n mind, and on other minds, when you have to look at the matter\n _cominus_ and not _eminus_, as actual, and not as hypothetical. I\n gave Chamberlain a brief hint of these speculations when\n endeavouring to work upon him; otherwise I have not mentioned them\n to any one.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOn the day of his return to London from Hawarden Mr. Gladstone had an\ninterview with the two ministers with whom on the merits he was most\ndisposed to agree, though he differed strongly from them as to tactics.\nResignations were still only suspended, yet the prospects of compromise\nwere hopeful. At a cabinet held on the following day (June 5) it was\nagreed that he should in the course of a week give notice of a bill to\ntake the place of the expiring Crimes Act. The point left open was whether\nthe operative provisions of such an Act--agreed on some time before--should\nnot be brought into operation without some special act of the executive\ngovernment, by proclamation, order in council, or otherwise. Local\ngovernment was still left open. Lord Spencer crossed over from Ireland on\nthe night of June 7, and the cabinet met next day. All differences were\nnarrowed down to the point whether the enactments against intimidation\nshould be inoperative unless and until the lord lieutenant should waken\nthem into life by proclamation. As it happened, intimidation had been for\na considerable time upon the increase--from which it might be inferred\neither, on the one side, that coercion failed in its object, or, on the\nother, that more coercion was still indispensable. The precise state in\nwhich matters were left at the eleventh hour before the crisis, now\nswiftly advancing, (M78) was set out by Mr. Gladstone in a letter written\nby him to the Queen in the autumn (October 5), when he was no longer her\nMajesty's minister:--\n\n\n _To the Queen._\n\n ... He has perceived that in various quarters misapprehension\n prevails as to the point at which the deliberations of the late\n cabinet on the question of any renewal of, or substitution for,\n the Crimes Act in Ireland had arrived when their financial defeat\n on the 8th of June caused the tender of their resignation.\n\n Mr. Gladstone prays your Majesty's gracious permission to remove\n this misapprehension by simply stating that which occurred in the\n cabinet at its latest meetings, with reference to this particular\n question. Substantially it would be a repetition, or little more\n (and without any mention of names), of his latest reports to your\n Majesty, to the effect--\n\n 1. That the cabinet had long before arrived at the conclusion that\n the coercion clauses of the Act, properly so called, might be\n safely abandoned.\n\n 2. With regard to the other clauses, which might be generally\n described as procedure clauses, they intended as a rule to advise,\n not their absolute re-enactment, but that the viceroy should be\n empowered to bring them into action, together or separately, as\n and when he might see cause.\n\n 3. But that, with respect to the intimidation or boycotting\n provisions, it still remained for consideration whether they\n should thus be left subject to executive discretion, or whether,\n as the offence had not ceased, they should, as an effective\n instrument of repression, remain in direct and full operation.\n\n\nIt is worth noticing here as a signal instance of Mr. Gladstone's\ntenacious and indomitable will after his defeat, that in a communication\nto the Queen four days later (June 12), he stated that the single\noutstanding point of difference on the Crimes bill was probably in a fair\nway of settlement, but that even if the dissent of the radical members of\nthe cabinet had become operative, it was his firm intention to make new\narrangements for filling the vacant offices and carrying on the\ngovernment. The overthrow came in a different way. The deliberations thus\nsummarised had been held under the shadow of a possibility, mentioned to\nthe Queen in the report of this last cabinet, of a coalition between the\ntories and the Irish nationalists, in order to put an end to the existence\nof the government on their budget. This cloud at last burst, though Mr.\nGladstone at any rate with his usual invincible adherence to the salutary\nrule never to bid good morrow to the devil until you meet him, did not\nstrongly believe in the risk. The diary sheds no light on the state of his\nexpectations:--\n\n\n _June 6._... Read Amiel's _Journal Intime_. Queen's birthday\n dinner, 39; went very well. Much conversation with the Prince of\n Wales, who was handy and pleasant even beyond his wont. Also had\n some speech of his son, who was on my left. _June 7, Trinity\n Sunday._--Chapel Royal at noon and 5.30. Wrote.... Saw Lord\n Granville; ditto _cum_ Kimberley. Read Amiel. Edersheim on Old\n Testament. _June 8._--Wrote, etc.... Pitiless rain. Cabinet,\n 2-3-3/4.... Spoke on budget. Beaten by 264:252. Adjourned the House.\n This is a considerable event.\n\n\nThe amendment that led to this \"considerable event\" was moved by Sir\nMichael Hicks Beach. The two points raised by the fatal motion were,\nfirst, the increased duty on beer and spirits without a corresponding\nincrease on wine; and, second, the increase of the duty on real property\nwhile no relief was given to rates. The fiscal issue is not material. What\nwas ominous was the alliance that brought about the result.\n\nThe defeat of the Gladstone government was the first success of a\ncombination between tories and Irish, that proved of cardinal importance\nto policies and parties for several critical months to come. By a\ncoincidence that cut too deep to be mere accident, divisions in the\nGladstone cabinet found their counterpart in insurrection among the tory\nopposition. The same general forces of the hour, working through the\nenergy, ambition, and initiative of individuals, produced the same effect\nin each of the two parties; the radical programme of Mr. Chamberlain was\nmatched by the (M79) tory democracy of Lord Randolph Churchill; each saw\nthat the final transfer of power from the ten-pound householder to\nartisans and labourers would rouse new social demands; each was aware that\nIreland was the electoral pivot of the day, and while one of them was\nwrestling with those whom he stigmatised as whigs, the other by dexterity\nand resolution overthrew his leaders as \"the old gang.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XII. Accession Of Lord Salisbury. (1885)\n\n\n Politics are not a drama where scenes follow one another according\n to a methodical plan, where the actors exchange forms of speech,\n settled beforehand: politics are a conflict of which chance is\n incessantly modifying the whole course.--SOREL.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIn tendering his resignation to the Queen on the day following his\nparliamentary defeat (June 9), and regretting that he had been unable to\nprepare her for the result, Mr. Gladstone explained that though the\ngovernment had always been able to cope with the combined tory and\nnationalist oppositions, what had happened on this occasion was the silent\nwithdrawal, under the pressure of powerful trades, from the government\nranks of liberals who abstained from voting, while six or seven actually\nvoted with the majority. \"There was no previous notice,\" he said, \"and it\nwas immediately before the division that Mr. Gladstone was apprised for\nthe first time of the likelihood of a defeat.\" The suspicions hinted that\nministers, or at least some of them, unobtrusively contrived their own\nfall. Their supporters, it was afterwards remarked, received none of those\nimperative adjurations to return after dinner that are usual on solemn\noccasions; else there could never have been seventy-six absentees. The\nmajority was composed of members of the tory party, six liberals, and\nthirty-nine nationalists. Loud was the exultation of the latter contingent\nat the prostration of the coercion system. What was natural exultation in\nthem, may have taken the form of modest satisfaction among many liberals,\nthat they could go to the country without the obnoxious label of coercion\ntied round their necks. As for ministers, it was observed that if in the\nstreets you saw a man coming along with a particularly elastic step and a\njoyful frame of (M80) countenance, ten to one on coming closer you would\nfind that it was a member of the late cabinet.(124)\n\nThe ministerial crisis of 1885 was unusually prolonged, and it was\ncurious. The victory had been won by a coalition with the Irish; its\nfruits could only be reaped with Irish support; and Irish support was to\nthe tory victors both dangerous and compromising. The normal process of a\ndissolution was thought to be legally impossible, because by the\nredistribution bill the existing constituencies were for the most part\nradically changed; and a new parliament chosen on the old system of seats\nand franchise, even if it were legally possible, would still be empty of\nall semblance of moral authority. Under these circumstances, some in the\ntory party argued that instead of taking office, it would be far better\nfor them to force Mr. Gladstone and his cabinet to come back, and leave\nthem to get rid of their internal differences and their Irish\nembarrassments as they best could. Events were soon to demonstrate the\nprudence of these wary counsels. On the other hand, the bulk of the tory\nparty like the bulk of any other party was keen for power, because power\nis the visible symbol of triumph over opponents, and to shrink from office\nwould discourage their friends in the country in the electoral conflict\nnow rapidly approaching.\n\nThe Queen meanwhile was surprised (June 10) that Mr. Gladstone should make\nhis defeat a vital question, and asked whether, in case Lord Salisbury\nshould be unwilling to form a government, the cabinet would remain. To\nthis Mr. Gladstone replied that to treat otherwise an attack on the\nbudget, made by an ex-cabinet minister with such breadth of front and\nafter all the previous occurrences of the session, would be contrary to\nevery precedent,--for instance, the notable case of December 1852,--and it\nwould undoubtedly tend to weaken and lower parliamentary government.(125)\nIf an opposition defeated a government, they must be prepared to accept\nthe responsibility of their action. As to the second question, he answered\nthat a refusal by Lord Salisbury would obviously change the situation. On\nthis, the Queen accepted the resignations (June 11), and summoned Lord\nSalisbury to Balmoral. The resignations were announced to parliament the\nnext day. Remarks were made at the time, indeed by the Queen herself, at\nthe failure of Mr. Gladstone to seek the royal presence. Mr. Gladstone's\nexplanation was that, viewing \"the probably long reach of Lord\nHartington's life into the future,\" he thought that he would be more\nuseful in conversation with her Majesty than \"one whose ideas might be\nunconsciously by the limited range of the prospect before him,\"\nand Lord Hartington prepared to comply with the request that he should\nrepair to Balmoral. The visit was eventually not thought necessary by the\nQueen.\n\nIn his first audience Lord Salisbury stated that though he and his friends\nwere not desirous of taking office, he was ready to form a government; but\nin view of the difficulties in which a government formed by him would\nstand, confronted by a hostile majority and unable to dissolve, he\nrecommended that Mr. Gladstone should be invited to reconsider his\nresignation. Mr. Gladstone, however (June 13), regarded the situation and\nthe chain of facts that had led up to it, as being so definite, when\ncoupled with the readiness of Lord Salisbury to undertake an\nadministration, that it would be a mere waste of valuable time for him to\nconsult his colleagues as to the resumption of office. Then Lord Salisbury\nsought assurances of Mr. Gladstone's support, as to finance, parliamentary\ntime, and other points in the working of executive government. These\nassurances neither Mr. Gladstone's own temperament, nor the humour of his\nfriends and his party--for the embers of the quarrel with the Lords upon\nthe franchise bill were still hot--allowed him to give, and he founded\nhimself on the precedent of the communications of December 1845 between\nPeel and Russell. In this default of assurances, Lord Salisbury thought\nthat he should render the Queen no useful service by taking office. So\nconcluded the first stage.\n\n(M81) Though declining specific pledges, Mr. Gladstone now wrote to the\nQueen (June 17) that in the conduct of the necessary business of the\ncountry, he believed there would be no disposition to embarrass her\nministers. Lord Salisbury, however, and his colleagues were unanimous in\nthinking this general language insufficient. The interregnum continued. On\nthe day following (June 18), Mr. Gladstone had an audience at Windsor,\nwhither the Queen had now returned. It lasted over three-quarters of an\nhour. \"The Queen was most gracious and I thought most reasonable.\"\n(_Diary._) He put down in her presence some heads of a memorandum to\nassist her recollection, and the one to which she rightly attached most\nvalue was this: \"In my opinion,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote, \"the whole value of\nany such declaration as at the present circumstances permit, really\ndepends upon the spirit in which it is given and taken. For myself and any\nfriend of mine, I can only say that the spirit in which we should\nendeavour to interpret and apply the declaration I have made, would be the\nsame spirit in which we entered upon the recent conferences concerning the\nSeats bill.\" To this declaration his colleagues on his return to London\ngave their entire and marked approval, but they would not compromise the\nliberty of the House of Commons by further and particular pledges.\n\nIt was sometimes charged against Mr. Gladstone that he neglected his duty\nto the crown, and abandoned the Queen in a difficulty. This is wholly\nuntrue. On June 20, Sir Henry Ponsonby called and opened one or two\naspects of the position, among them these:--\n\n\n 1. Can the Queen do anything more?\n\n I answered, As you ask me, it occurs to me that it might help Lord\n Salisbury's going on, were she to make reference to No. 2 of my\n memorandum [the paragraph just quoted], and to say that in her\n judgment he would be safe in receiving it in a spirit of trust.\n\n 2. If Lord Salisbury fails, may the Queen rely on you?\n\n I answered that on a previous day I had said that if S. failed,\n the situation would be altered. I hoped, and on the whole thought,\n he would go on. But if he did not? I could not promise or expect\n smooth water. The movement of questions such as the Crimes Act and\n Irish Local Government might be accelerated. But my desire would\n be to do my best to prevent the Queen being left without a\n government.(126)\n\n\nMr. Gladstone's view of the position is lucidly stated in the following\nmemorandum, like the others, in his own hand, (June 21):--\n\n\n 1. I have endeavoured in my letters (_a_) to avoid all\n controversial matter; (_b_) to consider not what the incoming\n ministers had a right to ask, but what it was possible for us in a\n spirit of conciliation to give.\n\n 2. In our opinion there was no right to demand from us anything\n whatever. The declarations we have made represent an extreme of\n concession. The conditions required, _e.g._ the first of them\n [control of time], place in abeyance the liberties of parliament,\n by leaving it solely and absolutely in the power of the ministers\n to determine on what legislative or other questions (except\n supply) it shall be permitted to give a judgment. The House of\n Commons may and ought to be disposed to facilitate the progress of\n all necessary business by all reasonable means as to supply and\n otherwise, but would deeply resent any act of ours by which we\n agreed beforehand to the extinction of its discretion.\n\n The difficulties pleaded by Lord Salisbury were all in view when\n his political friend, Sir M. H. Beach, made the motion which, as\n we apprised him, would if carried eject us from office, and are\n simply the direct consequences of their own action. If it be true\n that Lord Salisbury loses the legal power to advise and the crown\n to grant a dissolution, that cannot be a reason for leaving in the\n hands of the executive an absolute power to stop the action\n (except as to supply) of the legislative and corrective power of\n the House of Commons. At the same time these conditions do not\n appear to me to attain the end proposed by Lord Salisbury, for it\n would still be left in the power of the House to refuse supplies,\n and thereby to bring about in its worst form the difficulty which\n he apprehends.\n\n\nIt looked for a couple of days as if he would be compelled (M82) to\nreturn, even though it would almost certainly lead to disruption of the\nliberal cabinet and party.(127) The Queen, acting apparently on Mr.\nGladstone's suggestion of June 20, was ready to express her confidence in\nMr. Gladstone's assurance that there would be no disposition on the part\nof himself or his friends to embarrass new ministers. By this expression\nof confidence, the Queen would thus make herself in some degree\nresponsible as it were for the action of the members of the defeated\nGladstone government in the two Houses. Still Lord Salisbury's\ndifficulties--and some difficulties are believed to have arisen pretty\nacutely within the interior conclaves of his own party--remained for\nforty-eight hours insuperable. His retreat to Hatfield was taken to mark a\nsecond stage in the interregnum.\n\nJune 22 is set down in the diary as \"a day of much stir and vicissitude.\"\nMr. Gladstone received no fewer than six visits during the day from Sir\nHenry Ponsonby, whose activity, judgment, and tact in these duties of\ninfinite delicacy were afterwards commemorated by Lord Granville in the\nHouse of Lords.(128) He brought up from Windsor the draft of a letter that\nmight be written by the Queen to Lord Salisbury, testifying to her belief\nin the sincerity and loyalty of Mr. Gladstone's words. Sir Henry showed\nthe draft to Mr. Gladstone, who said that he could not be party to certain\npassages in it, though willing to agree to the rest. The draft so altered\nwas submitted to Lord Salisbury; he demanded modification, placing a more\ndefinite interpretation on the words of Mr. Gladstone's previous letters\nto the Queen. Mr. Gladstone was immovable throughout the day in declining\nto admit any modifications in the sense desired; nor would he consent to\nbe privy to any construction or interpretation placed upon his words which\nLord Salisbury, with no less tenacity than his own, desired to extend.\n\n\n At 5.40 [June 22] Sir H. Ponsonby returned for a fifth interview,\n his infinite patience not yet exhausted.... He said the Queen\n believed the late government did not wish to come back. I simply\n reminded him of my previous replies, which, he remembered, nearly\n as follows:--That if Lord Salisbury failed, the situation would be\n altered. That I could not in such a case promise her Majesty\n smooth water. That, however, a great duty in such circumstances\n lay upon any one holding my situation, to use his best efforts so\n as, _quoad_ what depended upon him, not to leave the Queen without\n a government. I think he will now go to Windsor.--_June 22, '85_, 6\n P.M.\n\n\nThe next day (June 23), the Queen sent on to Lord Salisbury the letter\nwritten by Mr. Gladstone on June 21, containing his opinion that\nfacilities of supply might reasonably be provided, without placing the\nliberties of the House of Commons in abeyance, and further, his\ndeclaration that he felt sure there was no idea of withholding ways and\nmeans, and that there was no danger to be apprehended on that score. In\nforwarding this letter, the Queen expressed to Lord Salisbury her earnest\ndesire to bring to a close a crisis calculated to endanger the best\ninterests of the state; and she felt no hesitation in further\ncommunicating to Lord Salisbury her opinion that he might reasonably\naccept Mr. Gladstone's assurances. In deference to these representations\nfrom the Queen, Lord Salisbury felt it his duty to take office, the crisis\nended, and the tory party entered on the first portion of a term of power\nthat was destined, with two rather brief interruptions, to be prolonged\nfor many years.(129) In reviewing this interesting episode in the annals\nof the party system, it is impossible not to observe the dignity in form,\nthe patriotism in substance, the common-sense in result, that marked the\nproceedings alike of the sovereign and of her two ministers.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nAfter accepting Mr. Gladstone's resignation the Queen, on June 13,\nproffered him a peerage:--\n\n\n _The Queen to Mr. Gladstone._\n\n Mr. Gladstone mentioned in his last letter but one, his intention\n of proposing some honours. But before she considers these, she\n wishes to offer him an Earldom, as a mark of her recognition of\n his long and distinguished services, and she believes and thinks\n he will thereby be enabled still to render great service to his\n sovereign and country--which if he retired, as he has repeatedly\n told her of late he intended to do shortly,--he could not. The\n country would doubtless be pleased at any signal mark of\n recognition of Mr. Gladstone's long and eminent services, and the\n Queen believes that it would be beneficial to his health,--no\n longer exposing him to the pressure from without, for more active\n work than he ought to undertake. Only the other day--without\n reference to the present events--the Queen mentioned to Mrs.\n Gladstone at Windsor the advantage to Mr. Gladstone's health of a\n removal from one House to the other, in which she seemed to agree.\n The Queen trusts, therefore, that Mr. Gladstone will accept the\n offer of an earldom, which would be very gratifying to her.\n\n\nThe outgoing minister replied on the following day:--\n\n\n Mr. Gladstone offers his humble apology to your Majesty. It would\n not be easy for him to describe the feelings with which he has\n read your Majesty's generous, most generous letter. He prizes\n every word of it, for he is fully alive to all the circumstances\n which give it value. It will be a precious possession to him and\n to his children after him. All that could recommend an earldom to\n him, it already has given him. He remains, however, of the belief\n that he ought not to avail himself of this most gracious offer.\n Any service that he can render, if small, will, however, be\n greater in the House of Commons than in the House of Lords; and it\n has never formed part of his views to enter that historic chamber,\n although he does not share the feeling which led Sir R. Peel to\n put upon record what seemed a perpetual or almost a perpetual\n self-denying ordinance for his family.\n\n When the circumstances of the state cease, as he hopes they may\n ere long, to impose on him any special duty, he will greatly covet\n that interval between an active career and death, which the\n profession of politics has always appeared to him especially to\n require. There are circumstances connected with the position of\n his family, which he will not obtrude upon your Majesty, but\n which, as he conceives, recommend in point of prudence the\n personal intention from which he has never swerved. He might\n hesitate to act upon the motives to which he has last adverted,\n grave as they are, did he not feel rooted in the persuasion that\n the small good he may hope hereafter to effect, can best be\n prosecuted without the change in his position. He must beg your\n Majesty to supply all that is lacking in his expression from the\n heart of profound and lasting gratitude.\n\n\nTo Lord Granville, the nearest of his friends, he wrote on the same day:--\n\n\n I send you herewith a letter from the Queen which moves and almost\n upsets me. It must have cost her much to write, and it is really a\n pearl of great price. Such a letter makes the subject of it\n secondary--but though it would take me long to set out my reasons,\n I remain firm in the intention to accept nothing for myself.\n\n\nLord Granville replied that he was not surprised at the decision. \"I\nshould have greatly welcomed you,\" he said, \"and under some circumstances\nit might be desirable, but I think you are right now.\"\n\nHere is Mr. Gladstone's letter to an invaluable occupant of the\nall-important office of private secretary:--\n\n\n _To Mr. E. W. Hamilton._\n\n _June 30, 1885._--Since you have in substance (and in form?)\n received the appointment [at the Treasury], I am unmuzzled, and\n may now express the unbounded pleasure which it gives me, together\n with my strong sense (not disparaging any one else) of your\n desert. The modesty of your letter is as remarkable as its other\n qualities, and does you the highest honour. I can accept no\n tribute from you, or from any one, with regard to the office of\n private secretary under me except this, that it has always been\n made by me a strict and severe office, and that this is really the\n only favour I have ever done you, or any of your colleagues to\n whom in their several places and measures I am similarly obliged.\n\n As to your services to me they have been simply indescribable. No\n one I think could dream, until by experience he knew, to what an\n extent in these close personal relations devolution can be\n carried, and how it strengthens the feeble knees and thus also\n sustains the fainting heart.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe declaration of the Irish policy of the new government was made to\nparliament by no less a personage than the lord-lieutenant.(130) The prime\nminister had discoursed on frontiers in Asia and frontiers in Africa, but\non Ireland he was silent. Lord Carnarvon, on the contrary, came forward\nvoluntarily with a statement of policy, and he opened it on the broadest\ngeneral lines. His speech deserves as close attention as any deliverance\nof this memorable period. It laid down the principles of that alternative\nsystem of government, with which the new ministers formally challenged\ntheir predecessors. Ought the Crimes Act to be re-enacted as it stood; or\nin part; or ought it to be allowed to lapse? These were the three courses.\nNobody, he thought, would be for the first, because some provisions had\nnever been put in force; others had been put in force but found useless;\nand others again did nothing that might not be done just as well under the\nordinary law. The re-enactment of the whole statute, therefore, was\ndismissed. But the powers for changing venue at the discretion of the\nexecutive; for securing special juries at the same discretion; for holding\nsecret inquiry without an accused person; for dealing summarily with\ncharges of intimidation--might they not be continued? They were not\nunconstitutional, and they were not opposed to legal instincts. No, all\nquite true; but then the Lords should not conceal from themselves that\ntheir re-enactment would be in the nature of special or exceptional\nlegislation. He had been looking through coercion Acts, he continued, and\nhad been astonished to find that ever since 1847, with some very short\nintervals hardly worth mentioning, Ireland had lived under exceptional and\ncoercive legislation. What sane man could admit this to be a satisfactory\nor a wholesome state of things? Why should not they try to extricate\nthemselves from this miserable habit, and aim at some better solution?\n\"Just as I have seen in English colonies across the sea a combination of\nEnglish, Irish, and Scotch settlers bound together in loyal obedience to\nthe law and the crown, and contributing to the general prosperity of the\ncountry, so I cannot conceive that there is any irreconcilable bar here in\ntheir native home and in England to the unity and the amity of the two\nnations.\" He went to his task individually with a perfectly free, open,\nand unprejudiced mind, to hear, to question, and, as far as might be, to\nunderstand. \"My Lords, I do not believe that with honesty and\nsingle-mindedness of purpose on the one side, and with the willingness of\nthe Irish people on the other, it is hopeless to look for some\nsatisfactory solution of this terrible question. My Lords, these I believe\nto be the opinions and the views of my colleagues.\"(131)\n\nThis remarkable announcement, made in the presence of the prime minister,\nin the name of the cabinet as a whole, and by a man of known purity and\nsincerity of character, was taken to be an express renunciation, not\nmerely of the policy of which notice had been given by the outgoing\nadministration, but of coercion as a final instrument of imperial rule. It\nwas an elaborate repudiation in advance of that panacea of firm and\nresolute government, which became so famous before twelve months were\nover. It was the suggestion, almost in terms, that a solution should be\nsought in that policy which had brought union both within our colonies,\nand between the colonies and the mother country, and men did not forget\nthat this suggestion was being made by a statesman who had carried\nfederation in Canada, and tried to carry it in South Africa. We cannot\nwonder that upon leading members of the late government, and especially\nupon the statesman who had been specially responsible for Ireland, the\nimpression was startling and profound. Important members of the tory party\nhurried (M83) from Ireland to Arlington Street, and earnestly warned their\nleader that he would never be able to carry on with the ordinary law. They\nwere coldly informed that Lord Salisbury had received quite different\ncounsel from persons well acquainted with the country.\n\nThe new government were not content with renouncing coercion for the\npresent. They cast off all responsibility for its practice in the past.\nOstentatiously they threw overboard the viceroy with whom the only fault\nthat they had hitherto found, was that his sword was not sharp enough. A\nmotion was made by the Irish leader calling attention to the\nmaladministration of the criminal law by Lord Spencer. Forty men had been\ncondemned to death, and in twenty-one of these cases the capital sentence\nhad been carried out. Of the twenty-one executions six were savagely\nimpugned, and Mr. Parnell's motion called for a strict inquiry into these\nand some other convictions, with a view to the full discovery of truth and\nthe relief of innocent persons. The debate soon became famous from the\nprincipal case adduced, as the Maamtrasna debate. The topic had been so\ncopiously discussed as to occupy three full sittings of the House in the\nprevious October. The lawyer who had just been made Irish chancellor, at\nthat time pronounced against the demand. In substance the new government\nmade no fresh concession. They said that if memorials or statements were\nlaid before him, the viceroy would carefully attend to them. No minister\ncould say less. But incidental remarks fell from the government that\ncreated lively alarm in tories and deep disgust in liberals. Sir Michael\nHicks Beach, then leader of the House, told them that while believing Lord\nSpencer to be a man of perfect honour and sense of duty, \"he must say very\nfrankly that there was much in the Irish policy of the late government\nwhich, though in the absence of complete information he did not condemn,\nhe should be very sorry to make himself responsible for.\"(132) An even\nmore important minister emphasised the severance of the new policy from\nthe old. \"I will tell you,\" cried Lord Randolph Churchill, \"how the\npresent government is foredoomed to failure. They will be foredoomed to\nfailure if they go out of their way unnecessarily to assume one jot or\ntittle of the responsibility for the acts of the late administration. It\nis only by divesting ourselves of all responsibility for the acts of the\nlate government, that we can hope to arrive at a successful issue.\"(133)\n\nTory members got up in angry fright, to denounce this practical\nacquiescence by the heads of their party in what was a violent Irish\nattack not only upon the late viceroy, but upon Irish judges, juries, and\nlaw officers. They remonstrated against \"the pusillanimous way\" in which\ntheir two leaders had thrown over Lord Spencer. \"During the last three\nyears,\" said one of these protesting tories, \"Lord Spencer has upheld\nrespect for law at the risk of his life from day to day, with the\nsanction, with the approval, and with the acknowledgment inside and\noutside of this House, of the country, and especially of the conservative\nparty. Therefore I for one will not consent to be dragged into any\nimplied, however slight, condemnation of Lord Spencer, because it happens\nto suit the exigencies of party warfare.\"(134) This whole transaction\ndisgusted plain men, tory and liberal alike; it puzzled calculating men;\nand it had much to do with the silent conversion of important and leading\nmen.\n\nThe general sentiment about the outgoing viceroy took the form of a\nbanquet in his honour (July 24), and some three hundred members of the two\nHouses attended, including Lord Hartington, who presided, and Mr. Bright.\nThe two younger leaders of the radical wing who had been in the late\ncabinet neither signed the invitation nor were present. But on the same\nevening in another place, Mr. Chamberlain recognised the high qualities\nand great services of Lord Spencer, though they had not always agreed upon\ndetails. He expressed, however, his approval both of the policy and of the\narguments which had led the new government to drop the Crimes Act. At the\nsame time he denounced the \"astounding tergiversation\" of ministers, and\nenergetically declared that \"a strategic movement of that kind, executed\nin opposition to the notorious convictions of the men who effected it,\ncarried out for party purposes and party purposes alone, is the most\nflagrant instance of political dishonesty this country has ever known.\"\n(M84) Lord Hartington a few weeks later told his constituents that the\nconduct of the government, in regard to Ireland, had dealt a heavy blow\n\"both at political morality, and at the cause of order in Ireland.\" The\nseverity of such judgments from these two weighty statesmen testifies to\nthe grave importance of the new departure.\n\nThe enormous change arising from the line adopted by the government was\nvisible enough even to men of less keen vision than Mr. Gladstone, and it\nwas promptly indicated by him in a few sentences in a letter to Lord Derby\non the very day of the Maamtrasna debate:--\n\n\n Within the last two or three weeks, he wrote, the situation has\n undergone important changes. I am not fully informed, but what I\n know looks as if the Irish party so-called in parliament, excited\n by the high biddings of Lord Randolph, had changed what was\n undoubtedly Parnell's ground until within a very short time back.\n It is now said that a central board will not suffice, and that\n there must be a parliament. This I suppose may mean the repeal of\n the Act of Union, or may mean an Austro-Hungarian scheme, or may\n mean that Ireland is to be like a great colony such as Canada. Of\n all or any of these schemes I will now only say that, of course,\n they constitute an entirely new point of departure and raise\n questions of an order totally different to any that are involved\n in a central board appointed for local purposes.\n\n\nLord Derby recording his first impressions in reply (July 19) took the\nrather conventional objection made to most schemes on all subjects, that\nit either went too far or did not go far enough. Local government he\nunderstood, and home rule he understood, but a quasi-parliament in Dublin,\nnot calling itself such though invested with most of the authority of a\nparliament, seemed to him to lead to the demand for fuller recognition. If\nwe were forced, he said, to move beyond local government as commonly\nunderstood, he would rather have Ireland treated like Canada. \"But the\ndifficulties every way are enormous.\" On this Mr. Gladstone wrote a little\nlater to Lord Granville (Aug. 6):--\n\n\n As far as I can learn, both you and Derby are on the same lines as\n Parnell, in rejecting the smaller and repudiating the larger\n scheme. It would not surprise me if he were to formulate something\n on the subject. For my own part I have seen my way pretty well as\n to the particulars of the minor and rejected plan, but the idea of\n the wider one puzzles me much. At the same time, _if_ the election\n gives a return of a decisive character, the sooner the subject is\n dealt with the better.\n\n\nSo little true is it to say that Mr. Gladstone only thought of the\npossibility of Irish autonomy after the election.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nApart from public and party cares, the bodily machinery gave trouble, and\nthe fine organ that had served him so nobly for so long showed serious\nsigns of disorder.\n\n\n _To Lord Richard Grosvenor._\n\n _July 14._--After two partial examinations, a thorough examination\n of my throat (larynx _versus_ pharynx) has been made to-day by Dr.\n Semon in the presence of Sir A. Clark, and the result is rather\n bigger than I had expected. It is, that I have a fair chance of\n real recovery provided I keep silent almost like a Trappist, but\n all treatment would be nugatory without this rest; that the other\n alternative is nothing dangerous, but merely the constant passage\n of the organ from bad to worse. He asked what demands the H. of C.\n would make on me. I answered about three speeches of about five\n minutes each, but he was not satisfied and wished me to get rid of\n it altogether, which I must do, perhaps saying instead a word by\n letter to some friend. Much time has almost of necessity been\n lost, but I must be rigid for the future, and even then I shall be\n well satisfied if I get back before winter to a natural use of the\n voice in conversation. This imports a considerable change in the\n course of my daily life. Here it is difficult to organise it\n afresh. At Hawarden I can easily do it, but there I am at a\n distance from the best aid. I am disposed to \"_top up_,\" with a\n sea voyage, but this is No. 3--Nos. 1 and 2 being rest and then\n treatment.\n\n\nThe sea voyage that was to \"top up\" the rest of the treatment began on\nAugust 8, when the Gladstones became the guests of Sir Thomas and Lady\nBrassey on the _Sunbeam_. They sailed from Greenhithe to Norway, and after\na three weeks' cruise, were set ashore at Fort George on September 1. Mr.\nGladstone made an excellent tourist; was full of interest in all he saw;\nand, I dare say, drew some pleasure from the demonstrations of curiosity\nand admiration that attended his presence from the simple population\nwherever he moved. Long expeditions with much climbing and scrambling were\nhis delight, and he let nothing beat him. One of these excursions, the\nascent to the Voeringfos, seems to deserve a word of commemoration, in the\ninterest either of physiology or of philosophic musings after Cicero's\nmanner upon old age. \"I am not sure,\" says Lady Brassey in her most\nagreeable diary of the cruise,(135) \"that the descent did not seem rougher\nand longer than our journey up had been, although, as a matter of fact, we\ngot over the ground much more quickly. As we crossed the green pastures on\nthe level ground near the village of Saeboe we met several people taking\ntheir evening stroll, and also a tourist apparently on his way up to spend\nthe night near the Voeringfos. The wind had gone down since the morning,\nand we crossed the little lake with fair rapidity, admiring as we went the\nglorious effects of the setting sun upon the tops of the precipitous\nmountains, and the wonderful echo which was aroused for our benefit by the\nboatmen. An extremely jolty drive, in springless country carts, soon\nbrought us to the little inn at Vik, and by half-past eight we were once\nmore on board the _Sunbeam_, exactly ten hours after setting out upon our\nexpedition, which had included a ride or walk, as the case might be, of\neighteen miles, independently of the journey by boat and cart--a hardish\nday's work for any one, but really a wonderful undertaking for a man of\nseventy-five, who disdained all proffered help, and insisted on walking\nthe whole distance. No one who saw Mr. Gladstone that evening at dinner in\nthe highest spirits, and discussing subjects both grave and gay with the\ngreatest animation, could fail to admire his marvellous pluck and energy,\nor, knowing what he had shown himself capable of doing in the way of\nphysical exertion, could feel much anxiety on the score of the failure of\nhis strength.\"\n\nHe was touched by a visit from the son of an old farmer, who brought him\nas an offering from his father to Mr. Gladstone a curiously carved\nNorwegian bowl three hundred years old, with two horse-head handles.\nStrolling about Aalesund, he was astonished to find in the bookshop of the\nplace a Norse translation of Mill's _Logic_. He was closely observant of\nall religious services whenever he had the chance, and noticed that at\nLaurvig all the tombstones had prayers for the dead. He read perhaps a\nlittle less voraciously than usual, and on one or two days, being unable\nto read, he \"meditated and reviewed\"--always, I think, from the same point\nof view--the point of view of Bunyan's _Grace Abounding_, or his own\nletters to his father half a century before. Not seldom a vision of the\ncoming elections flitted before the mind's eye, and he made notes for what\nhe calls an _abbozzo_ or sketch of his address to Midlothian.\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IX. 1885-1886\n\n\n\n\nChapter I. Leadership And The General Election. (1885)\n\n\n Our understanding of history is spoiled by our knowledge of the\n event.--HELPS.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nMr. Gladstone came back from his cruise in the _Sunbeam_ at the beginning\nof September; leaving the yacht at Fort George and proceeding to Fasque to\ncelebrate his elder brother's golden wedding. From Fasque he wrote to Lord\nHartington (Sept. 3): \"I have returned to terra firma extremely well in\ngeneral health, and with a better throat; in full expectation of having to\nconsider anxious and doubtful matters, and now finding them rather more\nanxious and doubtful than I had anticipated. As yet I am free to take a\nshare or not in the coming political issues, and I must weigh many things\nbefore finally surrendering this freedom.\" His first business, he wrote to\nSir W. Harcourt (Sept. 12), was to throw his thoughts into order for an\naddress to his constituents, framed only for the dissolution, and \"written\nwith my best care to avoid treading on the toes of either the right or the\nleft wing.\" He had communicated, he said, with Granville, Hartington, and\nChamberlain; by both of the two latter he had been a good deal buffeted;\nand having explained the general idea with which he proposed to write, he\nasked each of the pair whether upon the whole their wish was that he\nshould go on or cut out. \"To this question I have not yet got a clear\naffirmative answer from either of them.\"\n\n\"The subject of Ireland,\" he told Lord Hartington, \"has perplexed me much\neven on the North Sea,\" and he expressed some regret that in a recent\nspeech his correspondent had felt it necessary at this early period to\njoin issue in so pointed a manner with Mr. Parnell and his party.\nParnell's speech was, no doubt, he said, \"as bad as bad could be, and\nadmitted of only one answer. But the whole question of the position which\nIreland will assume after the general election is so new, so difficult,\nand as yet, I think, so little understood, that it seems most important to\nreserve until the proper time all possible liberty of examining it.\"\n\nThe address to his electors, of which he had begun to think on board the\n_Sunbeam_, was given to the public on September 17. It was, as he said, as\nlong as a pamphlet, and a considerable number of politicians doubtless\npassed judgment upon it without reading it through. The whigs, we are\ntold, found it vague, the radicals cautious, the tories crafty; but\neverybody admitted that it tended to heal feuds. Mr. Goschen praised it,\nand Mr. Chamberlain, though raising his own flag, was respectful to his\nleader's manifesto.(136)\n\nThe surface was thus stilled for the moment, yet the waters ran very deep.\nWhat were \"the anxious and doubtful matters,\" what \"the coming political\nissues,\" of which Mr. Gladstone had written to Lord Hartington? They were,\nin a word, twofold: to prevent the right wing from breaking with the left;\nand second, to make ready for an Irish crisis, which as he knew could not\nbe averted. These were the two keys to all his thoughts, words, and deeds\nduring the important autumn of 1885--an Irish crisis, a solid party. He was\nnot the first great parliamentary leader whose course lay between two\nimpossibilities.\n\nAll his letters during the interval between his return from the cruise in\nthe _Sunbeam_ and the close of the general election disclose with perfect\nclearness the channels in which events and his judgment upon them were\nmoving. Whigs and radicals alike looked to him, and across him fought\ntheir battle. The Duke of Argyll, for example, (M85) taking advantage of a\nlifelong friendship to deal faithfully with him, warned him that the long\nfight with \"Beaconsfieldism\" had thrown him into antagonism with many\npolitical conceptions and sympathies that once had a steady hold upon him.\nYet they had certainly no less value and truth than they ever had, and\nperhaps were more needed than ever in face of the present chaos of\nopinion. To this Mr. Gladstone replied at length:--\n\n\n _To the Duke of Argyll._\n\n _Sept. 30, 1885._--I am very sensible of your kind and sympathetic\n tone, and of your indulgent verdict upon my address. It was\n written with a view to the election, and as a practical document,\n aiming at the union of all, it propounds for immediate action what\n all are supposed to be agreed on. This is necessarily somewhat\n favourable to the moderate section of the liberal party. You will\n feel that it would not have been quite fair to the advanced men to\n add some special reproof to them. And reproof, if I had presumed\n upon it, would have been two-sided. Now as to your suggestion that\n I should say something in public to indicate that I am not too\n sanguine as to the future. If I am unable to go in this\n direction--and something I may do--it is not from want of sympathy\n with much that you say. But my first and great cause of anxiety\n is, believe me, the condition of the tory party. As at present\n constituted, or at any rate moved, it is destitute of all the\n effective qualities of a respectable conservatism.... For their\n administrative spirit I point to the Beaconsfield finance. For\n their foreign policy they have invented Jingoism, and at the same\n time by their conduct _re_ Lord Spencer and the Irish\n nationalists, they have thrown over--and they formed their\n government only by means of throwing over--those principles of\n executive order and caution which have hitherto been common to all\n governments....\n\n There are other chapters which I have not time to open. I deeply\n deplore the oblivion into which public economy has fallen; the\n prevailing disposition to make a luxury of panics, which\n multitudes seem to enjoy as they would a sensational novel or a\n highly seasoned cookery; and the leaning of both parties to\n socialism, which I radically disapprove. I must lastly mention\n among my causes of dissatisfaction the conduct of the timid or\n reactionary whigs. They make it day by day more difficult to\n maintain that most valuable characteristic of our history, which\n has always exhibited a good proportion of our great houses at the\n head of the liberal movement. If you have ever noted of late years\n a too sanguine and high- anticipation of our future, I\n should like to be reminded of it. I remain, and I hope always to\n be, your affectionate friend.\n\n\nThe correspondence with Lord Granville sets out more clearly than anything\nelse could do Mr. Gladstone's general view of the situation of the party\nand his own relation to it, and the operative words in this\ncorrespondence, in view of the maelstrom to which they were all drawing\nnearer, will be accurately noted by any reader who cares to understand one\nof the most interesting situations in the history of party. To Lord\nGranville he says (September 9, 1885), \"The problem for me is to make if\npossible a statement which will hold through the election and not to go\ninto conflict with either the right wing of the party for whom Hartington\nhas spoken, or the left wing for whom Chamberlain, I suppose, spoke last\nnight. I do not say they are to be treated as on a footing, but I must do\nno act disparaging to Chamberlain's wing.\" And again to Lord Granville a\nmonth later (Oct. 5):--\n\n\n You hold a position of great impartiality in relation to any\n divergent opinions among members of the late cabinet. No other\n person occupies ground so thoroughly favourable. I turn to myself\n for one moment. I remain at present in the leadership of the\n party, first with a view to the election, and secondly with a view\n to being, by a bare possibility, of use afterwards in the Irish\n question if it should take a favourable turn; but as you know,\n with the intention of taking no part in any schism of the party\n should it arise, and of avoiding any and all official\n responsibility, should the question be merely one of liberal _v._\n conservative and not one of commanding imperial necessity, such as\n that of Irish government may come to be after the dissolution.\n\n\nHe goes on to say that the ground had now been sufficiently laid for going\nto the election with a united front, that ground being the common\nprofession of a limited creed (M86) or programme in the liberal sense,\nwith an entire freedom for those so inclined, to travel beyond it, but not\nto impose their own sense upon all other people. No one, he thought, was\nbound to determine at that moment on what conditions he would join a\nliberal government. If the party and its leaders were agreed as to\nimmediate measures on local government, land, and registration, were not\nthese enough to find a liberal administration plenty of work, especially\nwith procedure, for several years? If so, did they not supply a ground\nbroad enough to start a government, that would hold over, until the proper\ntime should come, all the questions on which its members might not be\nagreed, just as the government of Lord Grey held over, from 1830 to 1834,\nthe question whether Irish church property might or might not be applied\nto secular uses?\n\nAs for himself, in the event of such a government being formed (of which I\nsuppose Lord Granville was to be the head), \"My desire would be,\" he says,\n\"to place myself in your hands for all purposes, except that of taking\noffice; to be present or absent from the House, and to be absent for a\ntime or for good, as you might on consultation and reflection think best.\"\nIn other words Mr. Gladstone would take office to try to settle the Irish\nquestion, but for nothing else. Lord Granville held to the view that this\nwas fatal to the chances of a liberal government. No liberal cabinet could\nbe constructed unless Mr. Gladstone were at its head. The indispensable\nchief, however, remained obdurate.\n\nAn advance was made at this moment in the development of a peculiar\nsituation by important conversations with Mr. Chamberlain. Two days later\nthe redoubtable leader of the left wing came to Hawarden for a couple of\ndays, and Mr. Gladstone wrote an extremely interesting account of what\npassed to Lord Granville:(137)--\n\n\n _To Lord Granville._\n\n _Hawarden, Oct. 8, 1885._--Chamberlain came here yesterday and I\n have had a great deal of conversation with him. He is a good man\n to talk to, not only from his force and clearness, but because he\n speaks with reflection, does not misapprehend or (I think)\n suspect, or make unnecessary difficulties, or endeavour to\n maintain pedantically the uniformity and consistency of his\n argument throughout.\n\n As to the three points of which he was understood to say that they\n were indispensable to the starting of a liberal government, I\n gather that they stand as follows:--\n\n 1. As to the authority of local authorities for compulsory\n expropriation.(138) To this he adheres; though I have said I could\n not see the justification for withholding countenance from the\n formation of a government with considerable and intelligible plans\n in view, because it would not at the first moment bind all its\n members to this doctrine. He intimates, however, that the form\n would be simple, the application of the principle mild; that he\n does not expect wide results from it, and that Hartington, he\n conceives, is not disposed wholly to object to everything of the\n kind.\n\n 2. As regards readjustment of taxation, he is contented with the\n terms of my address, and indisposed to make any new terms.\n\n 3. As regards free education, he does not ask that its principle\n be adopted as part of the creed of a new cabinet. He said it would\n be necessary to reserve his right individually to vote for it. I\n urged that he and the new school of advanced liberals were not\n sufficiently alive to the necessity of refraining when in\n government from declaring by _vote_ all their individual opinions;\n that a vote founded upon time, and the engagements of the House at\n the moment with other indispensable business, would imply no\n disparagement to the principle, which might even be expressly\n saved (\"without prejudice\") by an amending resolution; that he\n could hardly carry this point to the rank of a _sine qua non_. He\n said,--That the sense of the country might bind the liberal\n majority (presuming it to exist) to declare its opinion, even\n though unable to give effect to it at the moment; that he looked\n to a single declaration, not to the sustained support of a\n measure; and he seemed to allow that if the liberal sense were so\n far divided as not to show a unanimous front, in that case it\n might be a question whether some plan other than, and short of, a\n direct vote might be pursued.(139)\n\n The question of the House of Lords and disestablishment he regards\n as still lying in the remoter distance.\n\n All these subjects I separated entirely from the question of\n Ireland, on which I may add that he and I are pretty well agreed;\n unless upon a secondary point, namely, whether Parnell would be\n satisfied to acquiesce in a County Government bill, good so far as\n it went, maintaining on other matters his present general\n attitude.(140) We agreed, I think, that a prolongation of the\n present relations of the Irish party would be a national disgrace,\n and the civilised world would scoff at the political genius of\n countries which could not contrive so far to understand one\n another as to bring their differences to an accommodation.\n\n All through Chamberlain spoke of reducing to an absolute minimum\n his idea of necessary conditions, and this conversation so far\n left untouched the question of men, he apparently assuming\n (wrongly) that I was ready for another three or four years'\n engagement.\n\n _Hawarden, Oct. 8, 1885._--In another \"private,\" but less private\n letter, I have touched on measures, and I have now to say what\n passed in relation to men.\n\n He said the outline he had given depended on the supposition of my\n being at the head of the government. He did not say he could\n adhere to it on no other terms, but appeared to stipulate for a\n new point of departure.\n\n I told him the question of my time of life had become such, that\n in any case prudence bound him, and all who have a future, to\n think of what is to follow me. That if a big Irish question should\n arise, and arise in such a form as to promise a possibility of\n settlement, that would be a crisis with a beginning and an end,\n and perhaps one in which from age and circumstances I might be\n able to supply aid and service such as could not be exactly had\n without me.(141) Apart from an imperious demand of this kind the\n question would be that of dealing with land laws, with local\n government, and other matters, on which I could render _no_\n special service, and which would require me to enter into a new\n contest for several years, a demand that ought not to be made, and\n one to which I could not accede. I did not think the adjustment of\n personal relations, or the ordinary exigencies of party,\n constituted a call upon me to continue my long life in a course of\n constant pressure and constant contention with half my\n fellow-countrymen, until nothing remained but to step into the\n grave.\n\n He agreed that the House of Lords was not an available resort. He\n thought I might continue at the head of the government, and leave\n the work of legislation to others.(142) I told him that all my\n life long I had had an essential and considerable share in the\n legislative work of government, and to abandon it would be an\n essential change, which the situation would not bear.\n\n He spoke of the constant conflicts of opinion with Hartington in\n the late cabinet, but I reverted to the time when Hartington used\n to summon and lead meetings of the leading commoners, in which he\n was really the least antagonistic of men.\n\n He said Hartington might lead a whig government aided by the\n tories, or might lead a radical government.... I recommended his\n considering carefully the personal composition of the group of\n leading men, apart from a single personality on which reliance\n could hardly be placed, except in the single contingency to which\n I have referred as one of a character probably brief.\n\n He said it might be right for him to look as a friend on the\n formation of a liberal government, having (as I understood)\n moderate but intelligible plans, without forming part of it. I\n think this was the substance of what passed.\n\n\nInteresting as was this interview, it did not materially alter Mr.\nGladstone's disposition. After it had taken place he wrote to Lord\nGranville (Nov. 10):--\n\n\n _To Lord Granville._\n\n I quite understand how natural it is that at the present juncture\n pressure, and even the whole pressure, should from both quarters\n be brought to bear upon me. Well, if a special call of imperial\n interest, such as I have described, should arise, I am ready for\n the service it may entail, so far as my will is concerned. But a\n very different question is raised. Let us see how matters stand.\n\n A course of action for the liberals, moderate but substantial, has\n been sketched. The party in general have accepted it. After the\n late conversations, there is no reason to anticipate a breach upon\n any of the conditions laid down anywhere for immediate adoption,\n between the less advanced and the more advanced among the leaders.\n It must occupy several years, and it may occupy the whole\n parliament. According to your view they will, unless on a single\n condition [_i.e._ Mr. Gladstone's leadership], refuse to combine\n in a cabinet, and to act, with a majority at their back; and will\n make over the business voluntarily to the tories in a minority, at\n the commencement of a parliament. Why? They agree on the subjects\n before them. Other subjects, unknown as yet, may arise to split\n them. But this is what may happen to any government, and _it_ can\n form no reason.\n\n But what _is_ the condition demanded? It is that a man of\n seventy-five,(143) after fifty-three years' service, with _no_\n particular qualification for the questions in view should enter\n into a fresh contract of service in the House of Commons, reaching\n according to all likelihood over three, four, or five years, and\n without the smallest reasonable prospect of a break. And this is\n not to solve a political difficulty, but to soothe and conjure\n down personal misgivings and apprehensions. I have not said\n jealousies, because I do _not_ believe them to be the operative\n cause; perhaps they do not exist at all.\n\n I firmly say this is not a reasonable condition, or a tenable\n demand, in the circumstances supposed. Indeed no one has\n endeavoured to show that it is. Further, abated action in the\n House of Commons is out of the question. We cannot have, in these\n times, a figurehead prime minister. I have gone a very long way in\n what I have said, and I really cannot go further.\n\n Lord Aberdeen, taking office at barely seventy in the House of\n Lords, apologised in his opening speech for doing this at a time\n when his mind ought rather to be given to \"other thoughts.\" Lord\n Palmerston in 1859 did not speak thus. But he was bound to no plan\n of any kind; and he was seventy-four, _i.e._ in his seventy-fifth\n year.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIt is high time to turn to the other deciding issue in the case. Though\nthus stubborn against resuming the burden of leadership merely to compose\ndiscords between Chatsworth and Birmingham, Mr. Gladstone was ready to be\nof use in the Irish question, \"if it should take a favourable turn.\" As if\nthe Irish question ever took a favourable turn. We have seen in the\nopening of the present chapter, how he spoke to Lord Hartington of a\ncertain speech of Mr. Parnell's in September, \"as bad as bad could be.\"\nThe secret of that speech was a certain fact that must be counted a\ncentral hinge of these far-reaching transactions. In July, a singular\nincident had occurred, nothing less strange than an interview between the\nnew lord-lieutenant and the leader of the Irish party. To realise its full\nsignificance, we have to recall the profound odium that at this time\nenveloped Mr. Parnell's name in the minds of nearly all Englishmen. For\nseveral years and at that moment he figured in the public imagination for\nall that is sinister, treasonable, dark, mysterious, and unholy. He had\nstood his trial for a criminal conspiracy, and was supposed only to have\nbeen acquitted by the corrupt connivance of a Dublin jury. He had been\nflung into prison and kept there for many months without trial, as a\nperson reasonably suspected of lawless practices. High treason was the\nleast dishonourable of the offences imputed to him and commonly credited\nabout him. He had been elaborately accused before the House of Commons by\none of the most important men in it, of direct personal responsibility for\noutrages and murders, and he left the accusation with scant reply. He was\nconstantly denounced as the apostle of rapine and rebellion. That the\nviceroy of the Queen should (M87) without duress enter into friendly\ncommunication with such a man, would have seemed to most people at that\nday incredible and abhorrent. Yet the incredible thing happened, and it\nwas in its purpose one of the most sensible things that any viceroy ever\ndid.(144)\n\nThe interview took place in a London drawing-room. Lord Carnarvon opened\nthe conversation by informing Mr. Parnell, first, that he was acting of\nhimself and by himself, on his own exclusive responsibility; second, that,\nhe sought information only, and that he had not come for the purpose of\narriving at any agreement or understanding however shadowy; third, that he\nwas there as the Queen's servant, and would neither hear nor say one word\nthat was inconsistent with the union of the two countries. Exactly what\nMr. Parnell said, and what was said in reply, the public were never\nauthentically told. Mr. Parnell afterwards spoke(145) as if Lord Carnarvon\nhad given him to understand that it was the intention of the government to\noffer Ireland a statutory legislature, with full control over taxation,\nand that a scheme of land purchase was to be coupled with it. On this, the\nviceroy denied that he had communicated any such intention. Mr. Parnell's\nstory was this:--\n\n\n Lord Carnarvon proceeded to say that he had sought the interview\n for the purpose of ascertaining my views regarding--should he call\n it?--a constitution for Ireland. But I soon found out that he had\n brought me there in order that he might communicate his own views\n upon the matter, as well as ascertain mine.... In reply to an\n inquiry as to a proposal which had been made to build up a central\n legislative body upon the foundation of county boards, I told him\n I thought this would be working in the wrong direction, and would\n not be accepted by Ireland; that the central legislative body\n should be a parliament in name and in fact.... Lord Carnarvon\n assured me that this was his own view also, and he strongly\n appreciated the importance of giving due weight to the sentiment\n of the Irish in this matter.... He had certain suggestions to this\n end, taking the colonial model as a basis, which struck me as\n being the result of much thought and knowledge of the subject....\n At the conclusion of the conversation, which lasted for more than\n an hour, and to which Lord Carnarvon was very much the larger\n contributor, I left him, believing that I was in complete accord\n with him regarding the main outlines of a settlement conferring a\n legislature upon Ireland.(146)\n\n\nIt is certainly not for me to contend that Mr. Parnell was always an\ninfallible reporter, but if closely scrutinised the discrepancy in the two\nstories as then told was less material than is commonly supposed. To the\npassage just quoted, Lord Carnarvon never at any time in public offered\nany real contradiction. What he contradicted was something different. He\ndenied that he had ever stated to Mr. Parnell that it was the intention of\nthe government, if they were successful at the polls, to establish the\nIrish legislature, with limited powers and not independent of imperial\ncontrol, which he himself favoured. He did not deny, any more than he\nadmitted, that he had told Mr. Parnell that on opinion and policy they\nwere very much at one. How could he deny it, after his speech when he\nfirst took office? Though the cabinet was not cognisant of the nature of\nthese proceedings, the prime minister was. To take so remarkable a step\nwithout the knowledge and assent of the head of the government, would have\nbeen against the whole practice and principles of our ministerial system.\nLord Carnarvon informed Lord Salisbury of his intention of meeting Mr.\n(M88) Parnell, and within twenty-four hours after the meeting, both in\nwriting and orally, he gave Lord Salisbury as careful and accurate a\nstatement as possible of what had passed. We can well imagine the close\nattention with which the prime minister followed so profoundly interesting\na report, and at the end of it he told the viceroy that \"he had conducted\nthe conversation with Mr. Parnell with perfect discretion.\" The knowledge\nthat the minister responsible for the government of Ireland was looking in\nthe direction of home rule, and exchanging home rule views with the great\nhome rule leader, did not shake Lord Salisbury's confidence in his fitness\nto be viceroy.\n\nThis is no mere case of barren wrangle and verbal recrimination. The\ntransaction had consequences, and the Carnarvon episode was a pivot. The\neffect upon the mind of Mr. Parnell was easy to foresee. Was I not\njustified, he asked long afterwards, in supposing that Lord Carnarvon,\nholding the views that he now indicated, would not have been made viceroy\nunless there was a considerable feeling in the cabinet that his views were\nright?(147) Could he imagine that the viceroy would be allowed to talk\nhome rule to him--however shadowy and vague the words--unless the prime\nminister considered such a solution to be at any rate well worth\ndiscussing? Why should he not believe that the alliance formed in June to\nturn Mr. Gladstone out of office and eject Lord Spencer from Ireland, had\nreally blossomed from being a mere lobby manoeuvre and election expedient,\ninto a serious policy adopted by serious statesmen? Was it not certain\nthat in such remarkable circumstances Mr. Parnell would throughout the\nelection confidently state the national demand at its very highest?\n\nIn 1882 and onwards up to the Reform Act of 1885, Mr. Parnell had been\nready to advocate the creation of a central council at Dublin for\nadministrative purposes merely. This he thought would be a suitable\nachievement for a party that numbered only thirty-five members. But the\nassured increase of his strength at the coming election made all the\ndifference. When semi-official soundings were taken from more than one\nliberal quarter after the fall of the Gladstone government, it was found\nthat Mr. Parnell no longer countenanced provisional reforms. After the\ninterview with Lord Carnarvon, the mercury rose rapidly to the top of the\ntube. Larger powers of administration were not enough. The claim for\nlegislative power must now be brought boldly to the front. In unmistakable\nterms, the Irish leader stated the Irish demand, and posed both problem\nand solution. He now declared his conviction that the great and sole work\nof himself and his friends in the new parliament would be the restoration\nof a national parliament of their own, to do the things which they had\nbeen vainly asking the imperial parliament to do for them.(148)\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nWhen politicians ruminate upon the disastrous schism that followed Mr.\nGladstone's attempt to deal with the Irish question in 1886, they ought\nclosely to study the general election of 1885. In that election, though\nleading men foresaw the approach of a marked Irish crisis, and awaited the\noutcome of events with an overshadowing sense of pregnant issues, there\nwas nothing like general concentration on the Irish prospect. The strife\nof programmes and the rivalries of leaders were what engrossed the popular\nattention. The main body of the British electors were thinking mainly of\npromised agrarian booms, fair trade, the church in danger, or some other\nof their own domestic affairs.\n\nFew forms of literature or history are so dull as the narrative of\npolitical debates. With a few exceptions, a political speech like the\nmanna in the wilderness loses its savour on the second day. Three or four\nmarked utterances of this critical autumn, following all that has been set\nforth already, will enable the reader to understand the division of\ncounsel that prevailed immediately before the great change of policy in\n1886, and the various strategic evolutions, masked movements, and play of\nmine, sap, and countermine, that led to it. As has just been described,\nand with good reason, (M89) for he believed that he had the Irish viceroy\non his side, Mr. Parnell stood inflexible. In his speech of August 24\nalready mentioned, he had thrown down his gauntlet.\n\nMuch the most important answer to the challenge, if we regard the effect\nupon subsequent events, was that of Lord Salisbury two months later. To\nthis I shall have to return. The two liberal statesmen, Lord Hartington\nand Mr. Chamberlain, who were most active in this campaign, and whose\nactivity was well spiced and salted by a lively political antagonism,\nagreed in a tolerably stiff negative to the Irish demand. The whig leader\nwith a slow mind, and the radical leader with a quick mind, on this single\nissue of the campaign spoke with one voice. The whig leader(149) thought\nMr. Parnell had made a mistake and ensured his own defeat: he\noverestimated his power in Ireland and his power in parliament; the Irish\nwould not for the sake of this impossible and impracticable undertaking,\nforego without duress all the other objects which parliament was ready to\ngrant them; and it remained to be seen whether he could enforce his iron\ndiscipline upon his eighty or ninety adherents, even if Ireland gave him\nso many.\n\nThe radical leader was hardly less emphatic, and his utterance was the\nmore interesting of the two, because until this time Mr. Chamberlain had\nbeen generally taken throughout his parliamentary career as leaning\nstrongly in the nationalist direction. He had taken a bold and energetic\npart in the proceedings that ended in the release of Mr. Parnell from\nKilmainham. He had with much difficulty been persuaded to acquiesce in the\nrenewal of any part of the Coercion Act, and had absented himself from the\nbanquet in honour of Lord Spencer. Together with his most intimate ally in\nthe late government, he had projected a political tour in Ireland with Mr.\nParnell's approval and under his auspices. Above all, he had actually\nopened his electoral campaign with that famous declaration which was so\nlong remembered: \"The pacification of Ireland at this moment depends, I\nbelieve, on the concession to Ireland of the right to govern itself in the\nmatter of its purely domestic business. Is it not discreditable to us that\neven now it is only by unconstitutional means that we are able to secure\npeace and order in one portion of her Majesty's dominions? It is a system\nas completely centralised and bureaucratic as that with which Russia\ngoverns Poland, or as that which prevailed in Venice under the Austrian\nrule. An Irishman at this moment cannot move a step--he cannot lift a\nfinger in any parochial, municipal, or educational work, without being\nconfronted with, interfered with, controlled by, an English official,\nappointed by a foreign government, and without a shade or shadow of\nrepresentative authority. I say the time has come to reform altogether the\nabsurd and irritating anachronism which is known as Dublin Castle. That is\nthe work to which the new parliament will be called.\"(150) Masters of\nincisive speech must pay the price of their gifts, and the sentence about\nPoland and Venice was long a favourite in many a debate. But when the\nIrish leader now made his proposal for removing the Russian yoke and the\nAustrian yoke from Ireland, the English leader drew back. \"If these,\" he\nsaid, \"are the terms on which Mr. Parnell's support is to be obtained, I\nwill not enter into the compact.\" This was Mr. Chamberlain's\nresponse.(151)\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThe language used by Mr. Gladstone during this eventful time was that of a\nstatesman conscious of the magnitude of the issue, impressed by the\nobscurity of the path along which parties and leaders were travelling, and\nkeenly alive to the perils of a premature or unwary step. Nothing was\neasier for the moment either for quick minds or slow minds, than to face\nthe Irish demand beforehand with a bare, blank, wooden _non possumus_. Mr.\nGladstone had pondered the matter more deeply. His gift of political\nimagination, his wider experience, and his personal share in some chapters\nof the modern history of Europe and its changes, planted him on a height\nwhence he commanded a view of possibilities (M90) and necessities, of\nhopes and of risks, that were unseen by politicians of the beaten track.\nLike a pilot amid wandering icebergs, or in waters where familiar buoys\nhad been taken up and immemorial beacons put out, he scanned the scene\nwith keen eyes and a glass sweeping the horizon in every direction. No\nwonder that his words seemed vague, and vague they undoubtedly were.\nSuppose that Cavour had been obliged to issue an election address on the\neve of the interview at Plombieres, or Bismarck while he was on his visit\nto Biarritz. Their language would hardly have been pellucid. This was no\nmoment for ultimatums. There were too many unascertained elements. Yet\nsome of those, for instance, who most ardently admired President Lincoln\nfor the caution with which he advanced step by step to the abolition\nproclamation, have most freely censured the English statesman because he\ndid not in the autumn of 1885 come out with either a downright Yes or a\npoint-blank No. The point-blank is not for all occasions, and only a\nsimpleton can think otherwise.\n\nIn September Mr. Childers--a most capable administrator, a zealous\ncolleague, wise in what the world regards as the secondary sort of wisdom,\nand the last man to whom one would have looked for a plunge--wrote to Mr.\nGladstone to seek his approval of a projected announcement to his\nconstituents at Pontefract, which amounted to a tolerably full-fledged\nscheme of home rule.(152) In view of the charitable allegation that Mr.\nGladstone picked up home rule after the elections had placed it in the\npower of the Irish either to put him into office or to keep him out of\noffice, his reply to Mr. Childers deserves attention:--\n\n\n _To Mr. Childers._\n\n _Sept. 28, 1885._--I have a decided sympathy with the general scope\n and spirit of your proposed declaration about Ireland. If I offer\n any observations, they are meant to be simply in furtherance of\n your purpose.\n\n 1. I would disclaim giving any exhaustive list of Imperial\n subjects, and would not \"put my foot down\" as to revenue, but\n would keep plenty of elbow-room to keep all customs and excise,\n which would probably be found necessary.\n\n 2. A general disclaimer of particulars as to the form of any local\n legislature might suffice, without giving the Irish expressly to\n know it might be decided mainly by their wish.\n\n 3. I think there is no doubt Ulster would be able to take care of\n itself in respect to education, but a question arises and forms, I\n think, the most difficult part of the whole subject, whether some\n defensive provisions for the owners of land and property should\n not be considered.\n\n 4. It is evident you have given the subject much thought, and my\n sympathy goes largely to your details as well as your principle.\n But considering the danger of placing confidence in the leaders of\n the national party at the present moment, and the decided\n disposition they have shown to raise their terms on any favourable\n indication, I would beg you to consider further whether you should\n _bind_ yourself at present to any details, or go beyond general\n indications. If you say in terms (and this I do not dissuade) that\n you are ready to consider the question whether they can have a\n legislature for all questions not Imperial, this will be a great\n step in advance; and anything you may say beyond it, I should like\n to see veiled in language not such as to commit you.\n\n\nThe reader who is now acquainted with Mr. Gladstone's strong support of\nthe Chamberlain plan in 1885, and with the bias already disclosed, knows\nin what direction the main current of his thought must have been setting.\nThe position taken in 1885 was in entire harmony with all these\npremonitory notes. Subject, said Mr. Gladstone, to the supremacy of the\ncrown, the unity of the empire, and all the authority of parliament\nnecessary for the conservation of that unity, every grant to portions of\nthe country of enlarged powers for the management of their own affairs,\nwas not a source of danger, but a means of averting it. \"As to the\nlegislative union, I believe history and posterity will consign to\ndisgrace the name and memory of every man, be he who he may, and on\nwhichever side of the Channel he may dwell, that having the power to aid\nin an equitable settlement between Ireland and Great Britain, shall use\nthat power not to aid, but to prevent or it.\"(153) These and all\nthe other large and profuse sentences of the Midlothian address were\nundoubtedly open to more than one construction, and they either admitted\nor excluded home rule, as might happen. The fact that, though it was\nrunning so freely in his own mind, he did not put Irish autonomy into the\nforefront of his address, has been made a common article of charge against\nhim. As if the view of Irish autonomy now running in his mind were not\ndependent on a string of hypotheses. And who can imagine a party leader's\nelection address that should have run thus?--\" If Mr. Parnell returns with\na great majority of members, and if the minority is not weighty enough,\nand if the demand is constitutionally framed, and if the Parnellites are\nunanimous, then we will try home rule. And this possibility of a\nhypothetical experiment is to be the liberal cry with which to go into\nbattle against Lord Salisbury, who, so far as I can see, is nursing the\nidea of the same experiment.\"\n\nSome weeks later, in speaking to his electors in Midlothian, Mr. Gladstone\ninstead of minimising magnified the Irish case, pushed it into the very\nforefront, not in one speech, but in nearly all; warned his hearers of the\ngravity of the questions soon to be raised by it, and assured them that it\nwould probably throw into the shade the other measures that he had\ndescribed as ripe for action. He elaborated a declaration, of which much\nwas heard for many months and years afterwards. What Ireland, he said, may\ndeliberately and constitutionally demand, unless it infringes the\nprinciples connected with the honourable maintenance of the unity of the\nempire, will be a demand that we are bound at any rate to treat with\ncareful attention. To stint Ireland in power which might be necessary or\ndesirable for the management of matters purely Irish, would be a great\nerror; and if she was so stinted, the end that any such measure might\ncontemplate could not be attained. Then came the memorable appeal: \"Apart\nfrom the term of whig and tory, there is one thing I will say and will\nendeavour to impress upon you, and it is this. It will be a vital danger\nto the country and to the empire, if at a time when a demand from Ireland\nfor larger powers of self-government is to be dealt with, there is not in\nparliament a party totally independent of the Irish vote.\"(154) Loud and\nlong sustained have been the reverberations of this clanging sentence. It\nwas no mere passing dictum. Mr. Gladstone himself insisted upon the same\nposition again and again, that \"for a government in a minority to deal\nwith the Irish question would not be safe.\" This view, propounded in his\nfirst speech, was expanded in his second. There he deliberately set out\nthat the urgent expediency of a liberal majority independent of Ireland\ndid not foreshadow the advent of a liberal government to power. He\nreferred to the settlement of household suffrage in 1867. How was the tory\ngovernment enabled to effect that settlement? Because there was in the\nHouse a liberal majority which did not care to eject the existing\nministry.(155) He had already reminded his electors that tory governments\nwere sometimes able to carry important measures, when once they had made\nup their minds to it, with greater facility than liberal governments\ncould. For instance, if Peel had not been the person to propose the repeal\nof the corn laws, Lord John would not have had fair consideration from the\ntories; and no liberal government could have carried the Maynooth\nAct.(156)\n\nThe plain English of the abundant references to Ireland in the Midlothian\nspeeches of this election is, that Mr. Gladstone foresaw beyond all shadow\nof doubt that the Irish question in its largest extent would at once\ndemand the instant attention of the new parliament; that the best hope of\nsettling it would be that the liberals should have a majority of their\nown; that the second best hope lay in its settlement by the tory\ngovernment with the aid of the liberals; but that, in any case, the worst\nof all conditions under which a settlement could be attempted--an attempt\nthat could not be avoided--would be a situation in which Mr. Parnell should\nhold the balance between parliamentary parties.\n\nThe precise state of Mr. Gladstone's mind at this moment is best shown in\na very remarkable letter written by him to Lord Rosebery, under whose roof\nat Talmeny he was staying at the time:--\n\n\n _To Lord Rosebery._\n\n _Dalmeny Park, 13th Nov. 1885._--You have called my attention to\n the recent speech of Mr. Parnell, in which he expresses the desire\n that I should frame a plan for giving to Ireland, without\n prejudice to imperial unity and interests, the management of her\n own affairs. The subject is so important that, though we are\n together, I will put on paper my view of this proposal. For the\n moment I assume that such a plan can be framed. Indeed, if I had\n considered this to be hopeless, I should have been guilty of great\n rashness in speaking of it as a contingency that should be kept in\n view at the present election. I will first give reasons, which I\n deem to be of great weight, against my producing a scheme,\n reserving to the close one reason, which would be conclusive in\n the absence of every other reason.\n\n 1. It is not the province of the person leading the party in\n opposition, to frame and produce before the public detailed\n schemes of such a class.\n\n 2. There are reasons of great weight, which make it desirable that\n the party now in power should, if prepared to adopt the principle,\n and if supported by an adequate proportion of the coming House of\n Commons, undertake the construction and proposal of the measure.\n\n 3. The unfriendly relations between the party of nationalists and\n the late government in the expiring parliament, have of necessity\n left me and those with whom I act in great ignorance of the\n interior mind of the party, which has in parliament systematically\n confined itself to very general declarations.\n\n 4. That the principle and basis of an admissible measure have been\n clearly declared by myself, if not by others, before the country;\n more clearly, I think, than was done in the case of the Irish\n disestablishment; and that the particulars of such plans in all\n cases have been, and probably must be, left to the discretion of\n the legislature acting under the usual checks.\n\n But my final and paramount reason is, that the production at this\n time of a plan by me would not only be injurious, but would\n destroy all reasonable hope of its adoption. Such a plan, proposed\n by the heads of the liberal party, is so certain to have the\n opposition of the tories _en bloc_, that every computation must be\n founded on this anticipation. This opposition, and the appeals\n with which it will be accompanied, will render the carrying of the\n measure difficult even by a united liberal party; hopeless or most\n difficult, should there be serious defection.\n\n Mr. Parnell is apprehensive of the opposition of the House of\n Lords. That idea weighs little with me. I have to think of\n something nearer, and more formidable. The idea of constituting a\n legislature for Ireland, whenever seriously and responsibly\n proposed, will cause a mighty heave in the body politic. It will\n be as difficult to carry the liberal party and the two British\n nations in favour of a legislature for Ireland, as it was easy to\n carry them in the case of Irish disestablishment. I think that it\n may possibly be done; but only by the full use of a great\n leverage. That leverage can only be found in their equitable and\n mature consideration of what is due to the fixed desire of a\n nation, clearly and constitutionally expressed. Their\n prepossessions will not be altogether favourable; and they cannot\n in this matter be bullied.\n\n I have therefore endeavoured to lay the ground by stating largely\n the possibility and the gravity, even the solemnity, of that\n demand. I am convinced that this is the only path which can lead\n to success. With such a weapon, one might go hopefully into\n action. But I well know, from a thousand indications past and\n present, that a new project of mine launched into the air, would\n have no _momentum_ which could carry it to its aim. So, in my\n mind, stands the case....\n\n\nThree days before this letter, Mr. Gladstone had replied to one from Lord\nHartington:--\n\n\n _To Lord Hartington._\n\n _Dalmeny, Nov. 10, 1885._--I made a beginning yesterday in one of\n my conversation speeches, so to call them, on the way, by laying\n it down that I was particularly bound to prevent, if I could, the\n domination of sectional opinion over the body and action of the\n party.\n\n I wish to say something about the modern radicalism. But I must\n include this, that if it is rampant and ambitious, the two most\n prominent causes of its forwardness have been: 1. Tory democracy.\n 2. The gradual disintegration of the liberal aristocracy. On both\n these subjects my opinions are strong. I think the conduct of the\n Duke of Bedford and others has been as unjustifiable as it was\n foolish, especially after what we did to save the House of Lords\n from itself in the business of the franchise.\n\n Nor can I deny that the question of the House of Lords, of the\n church, or both, will probably split the liberal party. But let it\n split decently, honourably, and for cause. That it should split\n now would, so far as I see, be ludicrous.\n\n So far I have been writing in great sympathy with you, but now I\n touch a point where our lines have not been the same. You have, I\n think, courted the hostility of Parnell. Salisbury has carefully\n avoided doing this, and last night he simply confined himself to\n two conditions, which you and I both think vital; namely, the\n unity of the empire and an honourable regard to the position of\n the \"minority,\" _i.e._ the landlords. You will see in the\n newspapers what Parnell, _making_ for himself an opportunity, is\n reported to have said about the elections in Ulster now at hand.\n You have opened a vista which appears to terminate in a possible\n concession to Ireland of full power to manage her own local\n affairs. But I own my leaning to the opinion that, if that\n consummation is in any way to be contemplated, action at a stroke\n will be more honourable, less unsafe, less uneasy, than the\n jolting process of a series of partial measures. This is my\n opinion, but I have no intention, as at present advised, of\n signifying it. I have all along in public declarations avoided\n offering anything to the nationalists, beyond describing the\n limiting rule which must govern the question. It is for them to\n ask, and for us, as I think, to leave the space so defined as open\n and unencumbered as possible. I am much struck by the increased\n breadth of Salisbury's declaration last night; he dropped the \"I\n do not see how.\"\n\n We shall see how these great and difficult matters develop\n themselves. Meantime be assured that, with a good deal of\n misgiving as to the future, I shall do what little I can towards\n enabling all liberals at present to hold together with credit and\n good conscience.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nMr. Gladstone's cardinal deliverance in November had been preceded by an\nimportant event. On October 7, 1885, Lord Salisbury made that speech at\nNewport, which is one of the tallest and most striking landmarks in the\nshifting sands of this controversy. It must be taken in relation to Lord\nCarnarvon's declaration of policy on taking office, and to his exchange of\nviews with Mr. Parnell at the end of July. Their first principle, said\nLord Salisbury, was to extend to Ireland, so far as they could, all the\ninstitutions of this country. But one must remember that in Ireland the\npopulation is on several subjects deeply divided, and a government is\nbound 'on all matters of essential justice' to protect a minority against\na majority. Then came remarkable sentences: \"Local authorities are more\nexposed to the temptation of enabling the majority to be unjust to the\nminority when they obtain jurisdiction over a small area, than is the case\nwhen the authority derives its sanction and extends its jurisdiction over\na wider area. In a large central authority, the wisdom of several parts of\nthe country will correct the folly and mistakes of one. In a local\nauthority, that correction is to a much greater extent wanting, and it\nwould be impossible to leave that out of sight, in any extension of any\nsuch local authority in Ireland.\" This principle was often used in the\nlater controversy as a recognition by Lord Salisbury that the creation of\na great central body would be a safer policy than the mere extension of\nself-government in Irish counties. In another part of the speech, it is\ntrue, the finger-post or weather-vane pointed in the opposite direction.\n\"With respect to the larger organic questions connected with Ireland,\"\nsaid Lord Salisbury, \"I cannot say much, though I can speak emphatically.\nI have nothing to say but that the traditions of the party to which we\nbelong, are on this point clear and distinct, and you may rely upon it our\nparty will not depart from them.\" Yet this emphatic refusal to depart from\nthe traditions of the tory party did not prevent Lord Salisbury from\nretaining at that moment in his cabinet an Irish viceroy, with whom he\n(M91) was in close personal relations, and whose active Irish policy he\nmust have known to be as wide a breach in tory tradition as the mind of\nman can imagine. So hard is it in distracted times, the reader may\nreflect, even for men of honourable and lofty motive to be perfectly\ningenuous.\n\nThe speaker next referred to the marked way in which Mr. Parnell, a day or\ntwo before, had mentioned the position of Austro-Hungary. \"I gathered that\nsome notion of imperial federation was floating in his mind. With respect\nto Ireland, I am bound to say that I have never seen any plan or any\nsuggestion which gives me at present the slightest ground for anticipating\nthat it is in that direction that we shall find any substantial solution\nof the difficulties of the problem.\" In an electric state of the political\natmosphere, a statesman who said that at present he did not think federal\nhome rule possible, was taken to imply that he might think it possible,\nby-and-by. No door was closed.\n\nIt was, however, Lord Salisbury's language upon social order that gave\nmost scandal to simple consciences in his own ranks. You ask us, he said,\nwhy we did not renew the Crimes Act. There are two answers: we could not,\nand it would have done no good if we could. To follow the extension of the\nfranchise by coercion, would have been a gross inconsistency. To show\nconfidence by one act, and the absence of confidence by a simultaneous\nact, would be to stultify parliament. Your inconsistency would have\nprovoked such intense exasperation, that it would have led to ten times\nmore evil, ten times more resistance to the law, than your Crimes Act\ncould possibly have availed to check. Then the audience was favoured with\na philosophic view of boycotting. This, said the minister, is an offence\nwhich legislation has very great difficulty in reaching. The provisions of\nthe Crimes Act against it had a very small effect. It grew up under that\nAct. And, after all, look at boycotting. An unpopular man or his family go\nto mass. The congregation with one accord get up and walk out. Are you\ngoing to indict people for leaving church? The plain fact is that\nboycotting \"is more like the excommunication or interdict of the middle\nages, than anything that we know now.\" \"The truth about boycotting is that\nit depends on the passing humour of the population.\"\n\nIt is important to remember that in the month immediately preceding this\npolished apologetic, there were delivered some of the most violent\nboycotting speeches ever made in Ireland.(157) These speeches must have\nbeen known to the Irish government, and their occurrence and the purport\nof them must presumably have been known therefore to the prime minister.\nHere was indeed a removal of the ancient buoys and beacons that had\nhitherto guided English navigation in Irish waters. There was even less of\na solid ultimatum at Newport, than in those utterances in Midlothian which\nwere at that time and long afterwards found so culpably vague, blind, and\nelusive. Some of the more astute of the minister's own colleagues were\ndelighted with his speech, as keeping the Irishmen steady to the tory\nparty. They began to hope that they might even come within five-and-twenty\nof the liberals when the polling began.\n\nThe question on which side the Irish vote in Great Britain should be\nthrown seems not to have been decided until after Mr. Gladstone's speech.\nIt was then speedily settled. On Nov. 21 a manifesto was issued, handing\nover the Irish vote in Great Britain solid to the orator of the Newport\nspeech. The tactics were obvious. It was Mr. Parnell's interest to bring\nthe two contending British parties as near as might be to a level, and\nthis he could only hope to do by throwing his strength upon the weaker\nside. It was from the weaker side, if they could be retained in office,\nthat he would get the best terms.(158) The document was composed with\nvigour and astuteness. But the phrases of the manifesto were the least\nimportant part of it. It was enough that the hard word was passed. Some\nestimated the loss to the liberal party in this island at twenty seats,\nothers at forty. Whether twenty or forty, these lost seats made a fatal\ndifference in the division on the Irish bill a few months later, and when\n(M92) that day had come and gone, Mr. Parnell sometimes ruefully asked\nhimself whether the tactics of the electoral manifesto were not on the\nwhole a mistake. But this was not all and was not the worst of it. The\nIrish manifesto became a fiery element in a sharp electioneering war, and\nthrew the liberals in all constituencies where there was an Irish vote\ninto a direct and angry antagonism to the Irish cause and its leaders;\npassions were roused, and things were said about Irishmen that could not\nat once be forgotten; and the great task of conversion in 1886, difficult\nin any case, was made a thousand times more difficult still by the\narguments and antipathies of the electoral battle of 1885. Meanwhile it\nwas for the moment, and for the purposes of the moment, a striking\nsuccess.\n\n\n\n\nChapter II. The Polls In 1885. (1885)\n\n\n I would say that civil liberty can have no security without\n political power.--C. J. FOX.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe election ran a chequered course (Nov. 23-Dec. 19). It was the first\ntrial of the whole body of male householders, and it was the first trial\nof the system of single-member districts. This is not the place for a\ndiscussion of the change of electoral area. As a scheme for securing\nrepresentation of minorities it proved of little efficacy, and many\nbelieve that the substitution of a smaller constituency for a larger one\nhas tended to slacken political interest, and to narrow political\njudgment. Meanwhile some of those who were most deeply concerned in\nestablishing the new plan, were confident that an overwhelming liberal\ntriumph would be the result. Many of their opponents took the same view,\nand were in despair. A liberal met a tory minister on the steps of a club\nin Pall Mall, as they were both going to the country for their elections.\n\"I suppose,\" said the tory, \"we are out for twenty years to come.\" _O\npectora caeca!_ He has been in office for nearly fifteen of the eighteen\nyears since. In September one of the most authoritative liberal experts\ndid not see how the tories were to have more than 210 out of the 670\nseats, including the tory contingent from Ireland. Two months later the\nexpert admitted that the tory chances were improving, mainly owing to what\nin electioneering slang was called the church scare. Fair trade, too, had\nmade many converts in Lancashire. On the very eve of the polls the\nestimate at liberal headquarters was a majority of forty over tories and\nIrishmen combined.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\n(M93) As I should have told the reader on an earlier page, Mr. Gladstone\nhad proceeded to his own constituency on November 9. The previous month\nhad found, as usual, endless other interests to occupy him, quite apart\nfrom politics. These are the ordinary entries. \"Worked, say, five hours on\nbooks. Three more hours reduced my books and rooms to apparent order, but\nmuch detail remains. Worked mildly on books.\" In this region he would have\nsaid of disorder and disarray what Carlyle said to dirt, \"Thou shalt not\nabide with me.\" As to the insides of books, his reading was miscellaneous:\nMadame d'Arblay, Bodley's _Remains_, Bachaumont's _Anecdotes_, Cuvier's\n_Theory of the Earth_, Whewell on _Astronomy_, the _Life of B. Gilpin_,\nHennell's _Inquiry_, Schmidt's _Social Effects of Christianity_, Miss\nMartineau's _Autobiography_, Anderson on _Glory of the Bible,_ Barrow's\n_Towards the Truth_, and so on--many of the books now stone-dead. Besides\nsuch reading as this, he \"made a beginning of a paper on Hermes, and read\nfor it,\" and worked hard at a controversial article, in reply to M.\nReville, upon the Dawn of Creation and Worship. When he corrected the\nproof, he found it ill-written, and in truth we may rather marvel at, than\nadmire, the hardihood that handled such themes amid such\ndistractions.(159) Much company arrived. \"Count Muenster came to luncheon;\nlong walk and talk with him. The Derby-Bedford party came and went. I had\nan hour's good conversation with Lord D. Tea in the open air. _Oct.\n7._--Mr. Chamberlain came. Well, and much conversation. _Oct. 8._--Mr.\nChamberlain. Three hours of conversation.\"\n\nBefore the end of the month the doctors reported excellently of the\ncondition of his vocal cords, and when he started for Dalmeny and the\nscene of the exploits of 1880 once more, he was in spirits to enjoy \"an\nanimated journey,\" and the vast enthusiasm with which Edinburgh again\nreceived him. His speeches were marked by undiminished fire. He boldly\nchallenged a verdict on policy in the Soudan, while freely admitting that\nin some points, not immaterial, his cabinet had fallen into error, though\nin every case the error was fostered by the party opposite; and he pointed\nto the vital fact that though the party opposite were in good time, they\nnever dreamed of altering the policy. He asked triumphantly how they would\nhave fared in the Afghan dispute, if the policy anterior to 1880 had not\nbeen repudiated. In his address he took the same valiant line about South\nAfrica. \"In the Transvaal,\" he said, \"we averted a war of European and\nChristian races throughout South African states, which would have been\nalike menacing to our power, and scandalous in the face of civilisation\nand of Christendom. As this has been with our opponents a favourite\nsubject of unmeasured denunciation, so I for one hail and reciprocate\ntheir challenge, and I hope the nation will give a clear judgment on our\nrefusal to put down liberty by force, and on the measures that have\nbrought about the present tranquillity of South Africa.\" His first speech\nwas on Ireland, and Ireland figured, as we have seen, largely and\nemphatically to the last. Disestablishment was his thorniest topic, for\nthe scare of the church in danger was working considerable havoc in\nEngland, and every word on Scottish establishment was sure to be\ntranslated to establishment elsewhere. On the day on which he was to\nhandle it, his entry is: \"Much rumination, and made notes which in\nspeaking I could not manage to see. Off to Edinburgh at 2.30. Back at 6.\nSpoke seventy minutes in Free Kirk Hall: a difficult subject. The present\nagitation does not strengthen in my mind the principle of establishment.\"\nHis leading text was a favourite and a salutary maxim of his, that \"it is\na very serious responsibility to take political questions out of their\nproper time and their proper order,\" and the summary of his speech was\nthat the party was agreed upon certain large and complicated questions,\nsuch as were enough for one parliament to settle, and that it would be an\nerror to attempt to thrust those questions aside, to cast them into the\nshade and the darkness, \"for the sake of a subject of which I will not\nundervalue the importance, but of which I utterly deny the maturity at the\npresent moment.\"(160)\n\nOn Nov. 27 the poll was taken; 11,241 electors out of 12,924, or 87 per\ncent., recorded their votes, and of these 7879 voted for Mr. Gladstone,\nand 3248 for Mr. Dalrymple, or a majority of 4631. So little impression\nhad been made (M94) in Midlothian by Kilmainham, Majuba, Khartoum,\nPenjdeh, and the other party cries of a later period.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nLet us turn to the general result, and the final composition of Mr.\nGladstone's thirteenth parliament. The polls of the first three or four\ndays were startling. It looked, in the phrases of the time, as if there\nwere conservative reaction all round, as if the pendulum had swung back to\nthe point of tory triumph in 1874, and as if early reverses would wind up\nin final rout. Where the tories did not capture the seat, their numbers\nrose and the liberal majorities fell. At the end of four days the liberals\nin England and Wales had scored 86 against 109 for their adversaries. When\ntwo-thirds of the House had been elected, the liberals counted 196, the\ntories 179, and the Irish nationalists 37. In spite of the early panic or\nexultation, it was found that in boroughs of over 100,000 the liberals had\nafter all carried seventeen, against eight for their opponents. But the\ntories were victorious in a solid Liverpool, save one Irish seat; they won\nall the seats in Manchester save one; and in London, where liberals had\nbeen told by those who were believed to know, that they would make a clean\nsweep, there were thirty-six tories against twenty-six liberals. Two\nmembers of the late liberal cabinet and three subordinate ministers were\nthrown out. \"The verdict of the English borough constituencies,\" cried the\n_Times_, \"will be recorded more emphatically than was even the case in\n1874 in favour of the conservatives. The opposition have to thank Mr.\nChamberlain not only for their defeat at the polls, but for the\nirremediable disruption and hopeless disorganisation of the liberal party\nwith its high historic past and its high claims to national gratitude. His\nachievement may give him such immortality as was won by the man who burned\ndown the temple of Diana at Ephesus.\"(161) The same writers have ever\nsince ascribed the irremediable disruption to Mr. Gladstone and the Irish\nquestion.\n\nNow came the counties with their newly enfranchised hosts. Here the tide\nflowed strong and steady. Squire and parson were amazed to see the\nlabourer, of whose stagnant indifference to politics they had been so\nconfident, trudging four or five miles to a political meeting, listening\nwithout asking for a glass of beer to political speeches, following point\nupon-point, and then trudging back again dumbly chewing the cud.\nPoliticians with gifts of rhetoric began to talk of the grand revolt of\nthe peasants, and declared that it was the most remarkable transformation\nsince the conversion of the Franks. Turned into prose, this meant that the\nliberals had extended their area into large rural provinces where hitherto\ntory supremacy had never been disputed. Whether or no Mr. Chamberlain had\nbroken the party in the boroughs, his agrarian policy together with the\nnatural uprising of the labourer against the party of squire and farmer,\nhad saved it in the counties. The nominees of such territorial magnates as\nthe Northumberlands, the Pembrokes, the Baths, the Bradfords, the Watkin\nWynns, were all routed, and the shock to territorial influence was felt to\nbe profound. An ardent agrarian reformer, who later became a conspicuous\nunionist, writing to Mr. Gladstone in July a description of a number of\ngreat rural gatherings, told him, \"One universal feature of these meetings\nis the joy, affection, and unbounded applause with which your name is\nreceived by these earnest men. Never in all your history had you so strong\na place in the hearts of the common people, as you have to-day. It\nrequires to be seen to be realised.\"\n\nAll was at last over. It then appeared that so far from there being a\nsecond version of the great tory reaction of 1874, the liberals had now in\nthe new parliament a majority over tories of 82, or thirty under the\ncorresponding majority in the year of marvel, 1880. In great Britain they\nhad a majority of 100, being 333 against 233.(162) But (M95) they had no\nmajority over tories and Irishmen combined. That hopeful dream had glided\naway through the ivory gate.\n\nShots between right wing and left of the liberal party were exchanged to\nthe very last moment. When the borough elections were over, the Birmingham\nleader cried that so far from the loss in the boroughs being all the fault\nof the extreme liberals, it was just because the election had not been\nfought on their programme, but was fought instead on a manifesto that did\nnot include one of the points to which the extreme liberals attached the\ngreatest importance. For the sake of unity, they had put aside their most\ncherished principles, disestablishment for instance, and this, forsooth,\nwas the result.(163) The retort came as quickly as thunder after the\nflash. Lord Hartington promptly protested from Matlock, that the very\ncrisis of the electoral conflict was an ill-chosen moment for the public\nexpression of doubt by a prominent liberal as to the wisdom of a policy\naccepted by the party, and announced by the acknowledged leader of the\nwhole party. When the party had found some more tried, more trusted, more\nworthy leader, then might perhaps be the time to impugn the policy. These\nreproachful ironies of Lord Hartington boded ill for any prospect of the\nheroes of this fratricidal war of the platform smoothing their wrinkled\nfronts in a liberal cabinet.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIn Ireland the result shed a strong light on the debating prophecies that\nthe extension of the county franchise would not be unfavourable to the\nlandlord interest; that it would enable the deep conservative interest of\nthe peasantry to vindicate itself against the nationalism of the towns;\nthat it would prove beyond all doubt that the Irish leader did not really\nspeak the mind of a decided majority of the people of Ireland. Relying on\nthe accuracy of these abstract predictions, the Irish tories started\ncandidates all over the country. Even some of them who passed for shrewd\nand candid actually persuaded themselves that they were making an\nimpression on the constituencies. The effect of their ingenuous operations\nwas to furnish such a measure of nationalist strength, as would otherwise\nhave seemed incredible almost to the nationalists themselves. An instance\nor two will suffice. In two divisions of Cork, the tories polled 300 votes\nagainst nearly 10,000 for the nationalists. In two divisions of Mayo, the\ntories polled 200 votes against nearly 10,000 for the nationalists. In one\ndivision of Kilkenny there were 4000 nationalist votes against 170 for the\ntory, and in another division 4000 against 220. In a division of Kerry the\nnationalist had over 3000 votes against 30 for the tory,--a hundred to one.\nIn prosperous counties with resident landlords and a good class of gentry\nsuch as Carlow and Kildare, in one case the popular vote was 4800 against\n750, and in the other 3169 against 467. In some fifty constituencies the\npopular majorities ranged in round numbers from 6500 the highest, to 2400\nthe lowest. Besides these constituencies where a contest was so futile,\nwere those others in which no contest was even attempted.\n\nIn Ulster a remarkable thing happened. This favoured province had in the\nlast parliament returned nine liberals. Lord Hartington attended a banquet\nat Belfast (Nov. 5) just before the election. It was as unlucky an affair\nas the feast of Belshazzar. His mission was compared by Orange wits to\nthat of the Greek hero who went forth to wrestle with Death for the body\nof an old woman. The whole of the liberal candidates in Ulster fell down\nas dead men. Orangemen and catholics, the men who cried damnation to King\nWilliam and the men who cried \"To hell with the Pope,\" joined hands\nagainst them. In Belfast itself, nationalists were (M96) seen walking to\nthe booths with orange cards in their hats to vote for orangemen against\nliberals.(164) It is true that the paradox did not last, and that the Pope\nand King William were speedily on their old terms again. Within six\nmonths, the two parties atoned for this temporary backsliding into\nbrotherly love, by one of the most furious and protracted conflagrations\nthat ever raged even in the holy places of Belfast. Meanwhile nationalism\nhad made its way in the south of the province, partly by hopes of reduced\nrents, partly by the energy of the catholic population, who had not tasted\npolitical power for two centuries. The adhesion of their bishops to the\nnational movement in the Monaghan election had given them the signal three\nyears before. Fermanagh, hitherto invariably Orange, now sent two\nnationalists. Antrim was the single county out of the thirty-two counties\nof Ireland that was solid against home rule, and even in Antrim in one\ncontest the nationalist was beaten only by 35 votes.\n\nNot a single liberal was returned in the whole of Ireland. To the last\nparliament she had sent fourteen. They were all out bag and baggage.\nUlster now sent eighteen nationalists and seventeen tories. Out of the\neighty-nine contests in Ireland, Mr. Parnell's men won no fewer than\neighty-five, and in most of them they won by such overwhelming majorities\nas I have described. It was noticed that twenty-two of the persons\nelected, or more than one-fourth of the triumphant party, had been put in\nprison under the Act of 1881. A species of purge, moreover, had been\nperformed. All half-hearted nationalists, the doubters and the faithless,\nwere dismissed, and their places taken by men pledged either to obey or\nelse go.\n\nThe British public now found out on what illusions they had for the last\nfour years been fed. Those of them who had memories, could recollect how\nthe Irish secretary of the day, on the third reading of the first Coercion\nbill in 1881, had boldly appealed from the Irish members to the People of\nIreland. \"He was sure that he could appeal with confidence from gentlemen\nsitting below the gangway opposite to their constituents.\"(165) They\nremembered all the talk about Mr. Parnell and his followers being a mere\nhandful of men and not a political party at all, and the rest of it. They\nhad now a revelation what a fool's paradise it had been.\n\nAs a supreme electoral demonstration, the Irish elections of 1885 have\nnever been surpassed in any country. They showed that neither remedial\nmeasures nor repressive measures had made even the fleeting shadow of an\nimpression on the tenacious sentiment of Ireland, or on the powerful\norganisation that embodied and directed it. The Land Act had made no\nimpression. The two Coercion Acts had made none. The imperial parliament\nhad done its best for five years. Some of the ablest of its ministers had\nset zealous and intrepid hands to the task, and this was the end. Whether\nyou counted seats or counted votes, the result could not be twisted into\nanything but what it was--the vehement protest of one of the three kingdoms\nagainst the whole system of its government, and a strenuous demand for its\nreconstruction on new foundations.\n\nEndeavours were made to discredit so startling and unwelcome a result. It\nwas called \"the carefully prepared verdict of a shamefully packed jury.\"\nMuch was made of the number of voters who declared themselves illiterate,\nsaid to be compelled so to do in order that the priest or other\nintimidatory person might see that they voted right. As a matter of fact\nthe percentage of illiterate voters answered closely to the percentage of\nmales over twenty-one in the census returns, who could neither read nor\nwrite. Only two petitions followed the general election, one at Belfast\nagainst a nationalist, and the other at Derry against a tory, and in\nneither of the two was undue influence or intimidation alleged. The routed\ncandidates in Ireland, like the same unlucky species elsewhere, raised the\nusual chorus of dolorous explanation. The register, they cried, was in a\nshameful condition; the polling stations were too few or too remote; the\nloyalists were afraid, and the poll did not represent their real numbers;\npeople did not believe that the ballot was really secret; the percentage\nof illiterates was monstrous; promises and pledges went for nothing. Such\nare ever the too familiar voices of mortified electioneering.\n\n(M97) There was also the best known of all the conclusive topics from tory\nIreland. It was all done, vowed the tories, by the bishops and clergy;\nthey were indefatigable; they canvassed at the houses and presided at\nmeetings; they exhorted their flocks from the altar, and they drilled them\nat the polling-booths. The spiritual screw of the priest and the temporal\nscrew of the league--there was the whole secret. Such was the story, and it\nwas not wholly devoid of truth; but then what balm, what comfort, had even\nthe truth of it for British rulers?\n\nSome thousands of voters stayed away from the polls. It was ingeniously\nexplained that their confidence in British rule had been destroyed by the\nCarnarvon surrender; a shopkeeper would not offend his customers for the\nsake of a Union Jack that no longer waved triumphant in the breeze. They\nwere like the Arab sheikhs at Berber, who, when they found that the\nEgyptian pashas were going to evacuate, went over to the Mahdi. The\nconventions appointed to select the candidates were denounced as the mere\ncreatures of Mr. Parnell, the Grand Elector. As if anything could have\nshown a more politic appreciation of the circumstances. There are\nsituations that require a dictator, not to impose an opinion, but to\nkindle an aspiration; not to shape a demand, but to be the effective organ\nof opinion and demand. Now in the Irish view was one of those situations.\nIn the last parliament twenty-six seats were held by persons designated\nnominal home rulers; in the new parliament, not one. Every new nationalist\nmember pledged himself to resign whenever the parliamentary party should\ncall upon him. Such an instrument grasped in a hand of iron was\nindispensable, first to compel the British government to listen, and\nsecond, to satisfy any British government disposed to listen, that in\ndealing with Mr. Parnell they were dealing with nationalist Ireland, and\nwith a statesman who had the power to make his engagements good. You need\ngreater qualities, said Cardinal De Retz, to be a good party leader than\nto be emperor of the universe. Ireland is not that portion of the universe\nin which this is least true.\n\n\n\n\nChapter III. A Critical Month (December 1885)\n\n\n Whoever has held the post of minister for any considerable time\n can never absolutely, unalterably maintain and carry out his\n original opinions. He finds himself in the presence of situations\n that are not always the same--of life and growth--in connection with\n which he must take one course one day, and then, perhaps, another\n on the next day. I could not always run straight ahead like a\n cannon ball.--BISMARCK.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe month of December was passed by Mr. Gladstone at Hawarden, in such\ndepth of meditation as it is easy for us to conjecture. The composition of\nhis party, the new situation in parliament, the mutual relations of\nimportant individuals, the Irish case, his own share in respect of the\nIrish case, the strange new departure in Irish policy announced and acted\nupon by the subsisting cabinet--from all these points of view it was now\nhis business to survey the extraordinary scene. The knot to be unravelled\nin 1886 was hardly less entangled than that which engaged the powerful\ngenius of Pitt at the opening of the century. Stripped of invidious\ninnuendo, the words of Lord Salisbury a few weeks later state with\nstrength and truth the problem that now confronted parliament and its\nchief men. \"Up to the time,\" said the tory prime minister, \"when Mr.\nGladstone took office, be it for good or evil, for many generations\nIreland had been governed through the influence and the action of the\nlanded gentry. I do not wish to defend that system. There is a good deal\nto be said for it, and a good deal to be said against it. What I wish to\ninsist upon is, not that that system was good, but that the statesman who\nundertook to overthrow it, should have had something to put in its place.\nHe utterly destroyed it. By the Land Act of 1870, by the Ballot Act of\n1872, by the Land Act of 1881, and last of all by the Reform bill of 1884,\nthe power of the landed gentry in Ireland is absolutely shattered; and he\nnow stands before the formidable problem of a country deprived of a system\nof government under which it had existed for many generations, and\nabsolutely without even a sketch of a substitute by which the ordinary\nfunctions of law and order can be maintained. Those changes which he\nintroduced into the government of Ireland were changes that were admirable\nfrom a parliamentary point of view. They were suited to the dominant\nhumour of the moment. But they were barren of any institutions by which\nthe country could be governed and kept in prosperity for the future.\"(166)\nThis is a statement of the case that biographer and historian alike should\nponder. Particularly should they remember that both parties had renounced\ncoercion.\n\nMr. Gladstone has publicly explained the working of his mind, and both his\nprivate letters at the time, and many a conversation later, attest the\nhold which the new aspect, however chimerical it may now seem to those who\ndo not take long views, had gained upon him. He could not be blind to the\nfact that the action and the language of the tory ministers during the\nlast six months had shown an unquestionable readiness to face the new\nnecessities of a complex situation with new methods. Why should not a\nsolution of the present difficulties be sought in the same co-operation of\nparties, that had been as advantageous as it was indispensable in other\ncritical occasions of the century? He recalled other leading precedents of\nnational crisis. There was the repeal of the Test Act in 1828; catholic\nemancipation in 1829; the repeal of the corn law in 1846; the extension of\nthe franchise in 1867. In the history of these memorable transactions, Mr.\nGladstone perceived it to be extremely doubtful whether any one of these\nmeasures, all carried as they were by tory governments, could have become\nlaw except under the peculiar conditions which secured for each of them\nboth the aid of the liberal vote in the House of Commons, and the\nauthority possessed by all tory governments in the House of Lords. What\nwas the situation? The ministerial party just reached the figure of two\nhundred and fifty-one. Mr. Gladstone had said in the course of the\nelection that for a government in a minority to deal with the Irish\nquestion would not be safe, such an operation could not but be attended by\ndanger; but the tender of his support to Lord Salisbury was a\ndemonstration that he thought the operation might still properly be\nundertaken.(167)\n\n\n _To Herbert Gladstone._\n\n _December 10, 1885._--1. The nationalists have run in political\n alliance with the tories for years; more especially for six\n months; most of all at the close during the elections, when _they_\n have made us 335 (say) against 250 [conservatives] instead of 355\n against 230. This alliance is therefore at its zenith. 2. The\n question of Irish government ought for the highest reasons to be\n settled at once, and settled by the allied forces, (1) because\n they have the government, (2) because their measure will have fair\n play from all, most, or many of us, which a measure of ours would\n not have from the tories. 3. As the allied forces are half the\n House, so that there is not a majority against them, no\n constitutional principle is violated by allowing the present\n cabinet to continue undisturbed for the purpose in view. 4. The\n plan for Ireland ought to be produced by the government of the\n day. Principles may be laid down by others, but not the detailed\n interpretation of them in a measure. I have publicly declared I\n produce no plan until the government has arrived at some issue\n with the Irish, as I hope they will. 5. If the moment ever came\n when a plan had to be considered with a view to production on\n behalf of the liberal party, I do not at present see how such a\n question could be dissociated from another vital question, namely,\n who are to be the government. For a government alone can carry a\n measure, though some outline of essentials might be put out in a\n motion or resolution.\n\n\nHappening in these days to meet in the neighbouring (M98) palace of a whig\nmagnate, Mr. Balfour, a young but even then an important member of the\ngovernment, with whom as a veteran with a junior of high promise he had\nlong been on terms of friendly intimacy, Mr. Gladstone began an informal\nconversation with him upon the condition of Ireland, on the stir that it\nwas making in men's minds, and on the urgency of the problem. The\nconversation he followed up by a letter (Dec. 20). Every post, he said,\nbore him testimony to the growing ferment. In urging how great a calamity\nit would be if so vast a question should fall into the lines of party\nconflict, he expressed his desire to see it taken up by the government,\nand to be able, with reserve of necessary freedom, to co-operate in their\ndesign. Mr. Balfour replied with courteous scepticism, but promised to\ninform Lord Salisbury. The tactical computation was presumably this, that\nLord Salisbury would lose the Orange group from Ireland and the extreme\ntories in England, but would keep the bulk of his party. On the other\nhand, Mr. Gladstone in supporting a moderate home rule would drop some of\nthe old whigs and some of the extreme radicals, but he too would keep the\nbulk of the liberal party. Therefore, even if Mr. Parnell and his\nfollowers should find the scheme too moderate to be endurable, still Lord\nSalisbury with Mr. Gladstone's help would settle the Irish question as\nPeel with the help of the whigs settled the question of corn.\n\nBoth at the time and afterwards Mr. Gladstone was wont to lay great stress\nupon the fact that he had opened this suggestion and conveyed this proffer\nof support. For instance, he writes to Lord Hartington (Dec. 20): \"On\nTuesday I had a conversation with Balfour at Eaton, which in conformity\nwith my public statements, I think, conveyed informally a hope that they\nwould act, as the matter is so serious, and as its becoming a party\nquestion would be a great national calamity. I have written to him to say\n(without speaking for others) that if they can make a proposal for the\npurpose of settling definitely the question of Irish government, I shall\nwish with proper reserves to treat it in the spirit in which I have\ntreated Afghanistan and the Balkan Peninsula.\"\n\nThe language of Lord Carnarvon when he took office and of Lord Salisbury\nat Newport, coupled with the more substantial fact of the alliance between\ntories and nationalists before and during the election, no doubt warranted\nMr. Gladstone's assumption that the alliance might continue, and that the\ntalk of a new policy had been something more than an electioneering\nmanoeuvre. Yet the importance that he always attached to his offer of\nsupport for a definite settlement, or in plainer English, some sort of\nhome rule, implies a certain simplicity. He forgot in his patriotic zeal\nthe party system. The tory leader, capable as his public utterances show\nof piercing the exigencies of Irish government to the quick, might\npossibly, in the course of responsible consultations with opponents for a\npatriotic purpose, have been drawn by argument and circumstance on to the\nground of Irish autonomy, which he had hitherto considered, and considered\nwith apparent favour, only in the dim distance of abstract meditation or\nthrough the eyes of Lord Carnarvon. The abstract and intellectual\ntemperament is sometimes apt to be dogged and stubborn; on the other hand,\nit is often uncommonly elastic. Lord Salisbury's clear and rationalising\nunderstanding might have been expected to carry him to a thoroughgoing\nexperiment to get rid of a deep and inveterate disorder. If he thought it\npolitic to assent to communication with Mr. Parnell, why should he not\nlisten to overtures from Mr. Gladstone? On the other hand, Lord\nSalisbury's hesitation in facing the perils of an Irish settlement in\nreliance upon the co-operation of political opponents is far from being\nunintelligible. His inferior parliamentary strength would leave him at the\nmercy of an extremely formidable ally. He may have anticipated that, apart\nfrom the ordinary temptations of every majority to overthrow a minority,\nall the strong natural impulses of the liberal leader, his vehement\nsympathy with the principle of nationality, the irresistible attraction\nfor him of all the grand and eternal commonplaces of liberty and\nself-government, would inevitably carry him much further on the Irish road\nthan either Lord Salisbury himself may have been disposed to travel, or\nthan he could be sure of persuading his party to follow. He may (M99) well\nhave seen grounds for pause before committing himself to so delicate and\nprecarious an enterprise.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nEarly in December Lord Granville was at Hawarden, and the two discussed\nthe crucial perplexities of the hour, not going further than agreement\nthat responsibility lay with the government, and that the best chance for\nsettlement lay in large concession. From Hawarden Lord Granville went to\nChatsworth, where he found Lord Spencer on his way to visit Mr. Gladstone;\nbut nothing important passed among the three leaders thus brought together\nunder the roof of Lord Hartington. Lord Granville imparted to Lord Spencer\nand Lord Hartington that Mr. Gladstone was full of Ireland in the\ndirection of some large concession of self-government. The host discussed\nthe thing dispassionately without much expression of opinion. Proceeding\nto Hawarden, Lord Spencer was there joined by Lord Rosebery. Their chief\nrepeated to them the propositions already stated (p. 258). Mr. Gladstone\nwrote to Lord Granville (Dec. 9):\n\n\n You have, I think, acted very prudently in not returning here. It\n would have been violently canvassed. Your report is as favourable\n as could be expected. I think my conversations with Rosebery and\n Spencer have also been satisfactory. What I expect is a healthful,\n slow fermentation in many minds, working towards the final\n product. It is a case of between the devil and the deep sea. But\n our position is a bed of roses, compared with that of the\n government....\n\n\nLord Spencer was hardly second in weight to Mr. Gladstone himself. His\nunrivalled experience of Irish administration, his powers of firm decision\nin difficult circumstances, and the impression of high public spirit,\nuprightness, and fortitude, which had stamped itself deep upon the public\nmind, gave him a force of moral authority in an Irish crisis that was\nunique. He knew the importance of a firm and continuous system in Ireland.\nSuch a system he had inflexibly carried out. Extreme concessions had been\nextorted from him by the radicals in the cabinet, and when the last moment\nof the eleventh hour had arrived, it looked as if he would break up the\ngovernment by insisting. Then the government was turned out, and the party\nof \"law and order\" came in. He saw his firm and continuous system at the\nfirst opportunity flouted and discarded. He was aware, as officials and as\nthe public were aware, that his successor at Dublin Castle made little\nsecret that he had come over to reverse the policy. Lord Spencer, too,\nwell knew in the last months of his reign at Dublin that his own system,\nin spite of outward success, had made no mark upon Irish disaffection. It\nis no wonder that after his visit to Hawarden, he laboured hard at\nconsideration of the problem that the strange action of government on the\none hand, and the speculations of a trusted leader on the other, had\nforced upon him. On Mr. Gladstone he pressed the question whether a\ngeneral support should be given to Irish autonomy as a principle, before\nparticulars were matured. In any case he perceived that the difficulty of\ngoverning Ireland might well be increased by knowledge of the mere fact\nthat Mr. Gladstone and himself, whether in office or in opposition, were\nlooking in the direction of autonomy. Somebody said to Mr. Gladstone,\npeople talked about his turning Spencer round his thumb. \"It would be more\ntrue,\" he replied, \"that he had turned me round his.\" That is, I suppose,\nby the lessons of Lord Spencer's experience.\n\nIn the middle of the month Lord Hartington asked Mr. Gladstone for\ninformation as to his views and intentions on the Irish question as\ndeveloped by the general election. The rumours in the newspapers, he said,\nas well as in private letters, were so persistent that it was hard to\nbelieve them without foundation. Mr. Gladstone replied to Lord Hartington\nin a letter of capital importance in its relation to the prospects of\nparty union (Dec. 17):--\n\n\n _To Lord Hartington._\n\n The whole stream of public excitement is now turned upon me, and I\n am pestered with incessant telegrams which I have no defence\n against, but either suicide or Parnell's method of\n self-concealment. The truth is, I have more or less of opinions\n and ideas, but no intentions or negotiations. In these ideas and\n opinions there is, I think, little that I have not more or less\n conveyed in public declarations; in principle nothing. I will try\n to lay them before you. I consider that Ireland has now spoken;\n and that an effort ought to be made _by the government_ without\n delay to meet her demands for the management by an Irish\n legislative body of Irish as distinct from imperial affairs. Only\n a government can do it, and a tory government can do it more\n easily and safely than any other. There is first a postulate that\n the state of Ireland shall be such as to warrant it. The\n conditions of an admissible plan are--\n\n 1. Union of the empire and due supremacy of parliament.\n\n 2. Protection for the minority--a difficult matter on which I have\n talked much with Spencer, certain points, however, remaining to be\n considered.\n\n 3. Fair allocation of imperial charges.\n\n 4. A statutory basis seems to me better and safer than the revival\n of Grattan's parliament, but I wish to hear much more upon this,\n as the minds of men are still in so crude a state on the whole\n subject.\n\n 5. Neither as opinions nor as instructions have I to any one alive\n promulgated these ideas as decided on by me.\n\n 6. As to intentions, I am determined to have none at present, to\n leave space to the government--I should wish to encourage them if I\n properly could--above all, on no account to say or do anything\n which would enable the nationalists to establish rival biddings\n between us. If this storm of rumours continues to rage, it may be\n necessary for me to write some new letter to my constituents, but\n I am desirous to do nothing, simply leaving the field open for the\n government until time makes it necessary to decide. Of our late\n colleagues I have had most communication with Granville, Spencer,\n Rosebery. Would you kindly send this on to Granville?\n\n I think you will find this in conformity with my public\n declarations, though some blanks are filled up. I have in truth\n thought it my duty without in the least committing myself or any\n one else, to think through the subject as well as I could, being\n equally convinced of its urgency and bigness. If H. and N. are\n with you, pray show them this letter, which is a very hasty one,\n for I am so battered with telegrams that I hardly know whether I\n stand on my head or my heels....\n\n With regard to the letter I sent you, my opinion is that there is\n a Parnell party and a separation or civil war party, and the\n question which is to have the upper hand will have to be decided\n in a limited time. My earnest recommendation to everybody is not\n to commit himself. Upon this rule, under whatever pressure, I\n shall act as long as I can. There shall be no private negotiation\n carried on by me, but the time may come when I shall be obliged to\n speak publicly. Meanwhile I hope you will keep in free and full\n communication with old colleagues. Pray put questions if this\n letter seems ambiguous....\n\n Pray remember that I am at all times ready for personal\n communication, should you think it desirable.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nBefore receiving this letter, Lord Hartington was startled, as all the\nworld was, to come on something in the newspapers that instantly created a\nnew situation. Certain prints published on December 17 what was alleged to\nbe Mr. Gladstone's scheme for an Irish settlement.(168) It proposed in\nterms the creation of an Irish parliament. Further particulars were given\nin detail, but with these we need not concern ourselves. The Irish\nparliament was enough. The public mind, bewildered as it was by the\nsituation that the curious issue of the election had created, was thrown\nby this announcement into extraordinary commotion. The facts are these.\nMr. Herbert Gladstone visited London at this time (Dec. 14), partly in\nconsequence of a speech made a few days before by Sir C. Dilke, and of the\nclub talk which the speech had set going. It was taken to mean that he and\nMr. Chamberlain, the two radical leaders, thought that such an Irish\npolicy as might be concocted between Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Parnell would\nreceive no general support from the liberal party, and that it would be\nmuch safer to (M100) leave the tories in power, in the expectation that\nsome moderate measures of reform might be got from them, and that\nmeanwhile they would become committed with the Irishmen. Tactics of this\nkind were equivalent to the exclusion of Mr. Gladstone, for in every\nletter that he wrote he pronounced the Irish question urgent. Mr. Herbert\nGladstone had not been long in London before the impression became strong\nupon him, that in the absence of a guiding hint upon the Irish question,\nthe party might be drifting towards a split. Under this impression he had\na conversation with the chief of an important press agency, who had\npreviously warned him that the party was all at sea. To this gentleman, in\nan interview at which no notes were taken and nothing read from papers--so\nlittle formal was it--he told his own opinions on the assumed opinions of\nMr. Gladstone, all in general terms, and only with the negative view of\npreventing friendly writers from falling into traps. Unluckily it would\nseem to need at least the genius of a Bismarck, to perform with precision\nand success the delicate office of inspiring a modern oracle on the\njournalistic tripod. Here, what was intended to be a blameless negative\nsoon swelled, as the oracular fumes are wont to do, into a giant positive.\nIn conversations with another journalist, who was also his private friend\n(Dec. 15), he used language which the friend took to justify the pretty\nunreserved announcement that Mr. Gladstone was about to set to work in\nearnest on home rule.\n\n\"With all these matters,\" Mr. Herbert Gladstone wrote to a near relative\nat the time, \"my father had no more connection than the man in the moon,\nand until each event occurred, he knew no more of it than the man in the\nstreet.\" Mr. Gladstone on the same day (Dec. 17) told the world by\ntelegraph that the statement was not an accurate representation of his\nviews, but a speculation upon them; he added that it had not been\npublished with his knowledge or authority. There can be no doubt, whatever\nelse may be said, that the publication was neither to his advantage, nor\nin conformity with his view of the crisis. No statesman in our history has\never been more careful of the golden rule of political strategy--to neglect\nof which Frederick the Great traced the failure of Joseph II.--not to take\nthe second step before you have taken the first. Neither scheme nor\nintention had yet crystallised in his mind. Never was there a moment when\nevery consideration of political prudence more imperatively counselled\nsilence. Mr. Gladstone's denial of all responsibility was not found to be\nan explicit contradiction; it was a repudiation of the two newspapers, but\nit was not a repudiation of an Irish parliament. Therefore people believed\nthe story the more. Friends and foes became more than ever alert, excited,\nalarmed, and in not a few cases vehemently angry. This unauthorised\npublication with the qualified denial, placed Mr. Gladstone in the very\nposition which he declared that he would not take up; it made him a\ntrespasser on ground that belonged to the government. Any action on his\npart would in his own view not only be unnecessary; it would be\nunwarrantable; it would be in the highest degree injurious and\nmischievous.(169) Yet whatever it amounted to, some of this very injury\nand mischief followed.\n\nLord Hartington no sooner saw what was then called the Hawarden kite\nflying in the sky, than he felt its full significance. He at once wrote to\nMr. Gladstone, partly in reply to the letter of the 17th already given,\nand pointed with frankness to what would follow. No other subject would be\ndiscussed until the meeting of parliament, and it would be discussed with\nthe knowledge, or what would pass for knowledge, that in Mr. Gladstone's\nopinion the time for concession to Ireland had arrived, and that\nconcession was practicable. In replying to his former letter Mr. Gladstone\nhad invited personal communication, and Lord Hartington thought that he\nmight in a few days avail himself of it, though (December 18) he feared\nthat little advantage would follow. In spite of urgent arguments from wary\nfriends, Lord Hartington at once proceeded to write to his chairman in\nLancashire (December 20), informing the public that no proposals of\nliberal policy on the Irish demand had been communicated to him; for his\nown part he stood to what (M101) he said, at the election. This letter was\nthe first bugle note of an inevitable conflict between Mr. Gladstone and\nthose who by and by became the whig dissentients.\n\nTo Lord Hartington resistance to any new Irish policy came easily, alike\nby temperament and conviction. Mr. Chamberlain was in a more embarrassing\nposition; and his first speech after the election showed it. \"We are face\nto face,\" he said, \"with a very remarkable demonstration by the Irish\npeople. They have shown that as far as regards the great majority of them,\nthey are earnestly in favour of a change in the administration of their\ngovernment, and of some system which would give them a larger control of\ntheir domestic affairs. Well, we ourselves by our public declarations and\nby our liberal principles are pledged to acknowledge the justice of this\nclaim.\" What was the important point at the moment, Mr. Chamberlain\ndeclared that in his judgment the time had hardly arrived when the liberal\nparty could interfere safely or with advantage to settle this great\nquestion. \"Mr. Parnell has appealed to the tories. Let him settle accounts\nwith his new friends. Let him test their sincerity and goodwill; and if he\nfinds that he has been deceived, he will approach the liberal party in a\nspirit of reason and conciliation.\"(170)\n\nTranslated into the language of parliamentary action, this meant that the\nliberals, with a majority of eighty-two over the tories, were to leave the\ntory minority undisturbed in office, on the chance of their bringing in\ngeneral measures of which liberals could approve, and making Irish\nproposals to which Mr. Parnell, in the absence of competition for his\nsupport, might give at least provisional assent. In principle, these\ntactics implied, whether right or wrong, the old-fashioned union of the\ntwo British parties against the Irish. Were the two hundred and fifty\ntories to be left in power, to carry out all the promises of the general\nelection, and fulfil all the hopes of a new parliament chosen on a new\nsystem? The Hawarden letter-bag was heavy with remonstrances from newly\nelected liberals against any such course.\n\nSecond only to Mr. Gladstone in experience of stirring and perilous\npositions, Lord Granville described the situation to one of his colleagues\nas nothing less than \"thoroughly appalling.\" A great catastrophe, he said,\nmight easily result from any of the courses open: from the adoption of\ncoercion by either government or opposition; from the adoption by either\nof concession; from the attempt to leave the state of Ireland as it was.\nIf, as some think, a great catastrophe did in the end result from the\ncourse that Mr. Gladstone was now revolving in his own mind at Hawarden,\nand that he had commended to the meditations of his most important\ncolleagues, what alternative was feasible?\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThe following letters set out the various movements in a drama that was\nnow day by day, through much confusion and bewilderment, approaching its\nclimax.\n\n\n _To Lord Granville._\n\n _December 18, '85._--... Thinking incessantly about the matter,\n speaking freely and not with finality to you, and to Rosebery and\n Spencer--the only colleagues I have seen--I have trusted to writing\n to Hartington (who had had Harcourt and Northbrook with him) and\n to you for Derby.\n\n If I have made _any_ step in advance at all, which I am not sure\n of, it has most certainly been in the direction of leaving the\n field open for the government, encouraging them to act, and\n steadily refusing to say or do _anything_ like negotiation on my\n own behalf. So I think Derby will see that in the main I am\n certainly with him.... What will Parnell do? What will the\n government do? How can we decide without knowing or trying to\n know, both if we can, but at any rate the second? This letter is\n at your discretion to use in proper quarters.\n\n _December 22._--In the midst of these troubles, I look to you as\n the great feud-composer, and your note just received is just what\n I should have hoped and expected. Hartington wrote to me on\n Saturday that he was going up to see Goschen, but as I thought\n inviting a letter from me, which I wrote [December 17, above], and\n it was with no small surprise that I read him yesterday in the\n _Times_. However, I repeated yesterday to R. Grosvenor all that I\n have said to you about what seems to me the plain duty of the\n _party_, in the event of a severance between nationalists and\n tories. Meantime I care not who knows my anxiety to prevent that\n severance, and for that reason among others to avoid all\n communications of ideas and intentions which could tend to bring\n it about.\n\n\nOn December 27, Lord Granville wrote to Mr. Gladstone at Hawarden:--\n\n\n I have been asked to request you to call a cabinet of your late\n colleagues to discuss the present state of affairs. I have\n declined, giving my reasons, which appear to me to be good. At the\n same time, I think it would calm some fussiness that exists, if\n you let it be known to a few that you will be in town and ready\n for consultation, before the actual meeting.\n\n\nMr. Gladstone answered, as those acquainted with his modes of mind might\nhave been sure that he would:--\n\n\n _December 28._--Thank you for stopping the request to which your\n letter of yesterday refers. A cabinet does not exist out of\n office, and no one in his senses could covenant to call _the late\n cabinet_ together, I think, even if there were something on which\n it was ready to take counsel, which at this moment there is not.\n On the other hand, you will have seen from my letter that the idea\n before me has been that of going unusual lengths in the way of\n consulting beforehand, not only leading men but the party, or\n undertaking some special obligation to be assured of their\n concurrence generally, before undertaking new responsibilities.\n\n The one great difficulty in proceeding to consult now, I think, is\n that we cannot define the situation for ourselves, as an essential\n element of it is the relation between nationalists and tories,\n which they--not we--have to settle. If we meet on Tuesday 12th to\n choose a Speaker, so far as I can learn, regular business will not\n begin before the 19th. By the 12th we shall have given ourselves a\n much better chance of knowing how the two parties stand together;\n and there will be plenty of time for our consultations. Thus at\n least I map out the time; pray give me any comments you think\n required.\n\n I begged you to keep Derby informed; would you kindly do the same\n with Harcourt? Rosebery goes to London to-morrow.\n\n\nTwo days before this resistance to the request for a meeting, he had\nwritten to Lord Granville with an important enclosure:--\n\n\n _December 26, 1885._--I have put down on paper in a memorandum as\n well as I can, the possible forms of the question which may have\n to be decided at the opening of the session. I went over the\n ground in conversation with you, and afterwards with R. Grosvenor,\n and I requested R. Grosvenor, who was going to London, to speak to\n Hartington in that sense. After his recent act of publication, I\n should not like to challenge him by sending him the written paper.\n Please, however, to send it on to Spencer, who will send it back\n to me.\n\n\nThe memorandum itself must here be quoted, for it sets out in form,\nsuccinct, definite, and exhaustive, the situation as Mr. Gladstone at that\ntime regarded it:--\n\n\n _Secret._ _Hawarden Castle, Chester, Dec. 26, 1885._\n\n 1. Government should act.\n\n 2. Nationalists should support them in acting.\n\n 3. I have done what I can to bring about (1). I am confident the\n nationalists know my desire. They also publicly know there can be\n no plan from me in the present circumstances.\n\n 4. If (1) and (2) come about, we, who are half the House of\n Commons, may under the circumstances be justified in waiting for\n the production of a plan.\n\n 5. This would be in every sense the best situation.\n\n 6. But if ministers refuse to take up the question--or if from\n their not actually taking it up, or on any grounds, the\n nationalists publicly dissolve their alliance with them, the\n government then have a party of 250 in the face of 420, and in the\n face of 335 who were elected to oppose them.\n\n 7. The basis of our system is that the ministry shall have the\n confidence of the House of Commons. The exception is, when it is\n about to appeal to the people. The rule applies most strongly when\n an election has just taken place. Witness 1835, 1841, 1859, and\n the _three_ last elections, after each of which, the rule has been\n acted upon, silent inference standing instead of a vote.\n\n 8. The present circumstances warrant, I think, an understanding as\n above, between ministers and the nationalists; but not one between\n us and the nationalists.\n\n 9. If from any cause the alliance of the tories and nationalists\n which did exist, and presumably does exist, should be known to be\n dissolved, I do not see how it is possible for what would then be\n the liberal majority to shrink from the duty appertaining to it as\n such, and to leave the business of government to the 250 men whom\n it was elected to oppose.\n\n 10. This looks towards an amendment to the Address, praying her\n Majesty to choose ministers possessed of the confidence of the\n House of Commons.\n\n 11. Which under the circumstances should, I think, have the\n sanction of a previous meeting of the party.\n\n 12. An attempt would probably be made to traverse the proceeding\n by drawing me on the Irish question.\n\n 13. It is impossible to justify the contention that as _a\n condition previous_ to asserting the right and duty of a\n parliamentary majority, the party or the leaders should commit\n themselves on a measure about which they can form no final\n judgment, until by becoming the government they can hold all the\n necessary communications.\n\n 14. But in all likelihood jealousy will be stronger than logic;\n and to obviate such jealousy, it might be right for me [to go] to\n the very farthest allowable point.\n\n 15. The case supposed is, the motion made--carried--ministers\n resign--Queen sends for me.\n\n Might I go so far as to say at the first meeting that in the case\n supposed, I should only accept the trust if assured of the\n adequate, that is of the general, support of the party to a plan\n of duly guarded home rule?\n\n 16. If that support were withheld, it would be my duty to stand\n aside.\n\n 17. In that event it would, I consider, become the duty of that\n portion of the party, which was not prepared to support me in an\n effort to frame a plan of duly guarded home rule, to form a\n government itself if invited by the Queen to do so.\n\n 18. With me the Irish question would of course remain paramount;\n but preferring a liberal government without an adequate Irish\n measure to a tory government similarly lacking, such a liberal\n government would be entitled to the best general support I could\n give it.\n\n\nThe reference of this memorandum to Lords Granville and Spencer was\nregarded as one of the first informal steps towards a consultation of\nleaders. On receiving Lord Spencer's reply on the point of procedure Mr.\nGladstone wrote to him (December 30):--\n\n\n _To Lord Spencer._\n\n I understand your idea to be that inasmuch as leaders of the party\n are likely to be divided on the subject of a bold Irish measure,\n and a divergence might be exhibited in a vote on the Address, it\n may be better to allow the tory government, with 250 supporters in\n a house of 670, to assume the direction of the session and\n continue the administration of imperial affairs. I do not\n undervalue the dangers of the other course. But let us look at\n this one--\n\n 1. It is an absolute novelty.\n\n 2. Is it not a novelty which strikes at the root of our\n parliamentary government? under which the first duty of a majority\n freshly elected, according to a uniform course of precedent and a\n very clear principle, is to establish a government which has its\n confidence.\n\n 3. Will this abdication of primary duty avert or materially\n postpone the (apprehended) disruption of the party? Who can\n guarantee us against an Irish or independent amendment to the\n Address? The government must in any case produce at once their\n Irish plan. What will have been gained by waiting for it? The\n Irish will know three things--(1) That I am conditionally in favour\n of at least examining their demand. (2) That from the nature of\n the case, I must hold this question paramount to every interest of\n party. (3) That a part, to speak within bounds, of the liberal\n party will follow me in this respect. Can it be supposed that in\n these circumstances they will long refrain, or possibly refrain at\n all? With their knowledge of possibilities behind them, _dare_\n they long refrain? An immense loss of dignity in a great crisis of\n the empire would attend the forcing of our hands by the Irish or\n otherwise. There is no necessity for an instant decision. My\n desire is thoroughly to shake up all the materials of the\n question. The present leaning of my mind is to consider the faults\n and dangers of abstention greater than those of a more decided\n course. Hence, in part, my great anxiety that the present\n government should move. Please send this on to Granville.\n\n\nFinding Mr. Gladstone immovable at Hawarden, four of the members of the\nlast liberal cabinet of both wings met at Devonshire House on New Year's\nday. All, save one, found themselves hopeless, especially after the\nHawarden revelations, as to the possibility of governing Ireland by mere\nrepression. Lord Hartington at once communicated the desires of the\nconclave for information of his views and designs. Mr. Gladstone replied\n(January 2, 1886):--\n\n\n On the 17th December I communicated to you _all_ the opinions I\n had formed on the Irish question. But on the 21st you published in\n the _Times_ a re-affirmation of opposite opinions.\n\n On the Irish question, I have not a word to add to that letter. I\n am indeed doing what little the pressure of correspondence\n permits, to prepare myself by study and reflection. My object was\n to facilitate study by you and others--I cannot say it was wholly\n gained. But I have done nothing, and shall do nothing, to convert\n those opinions into intentions, for I have not the material before\n me. I do not know whether my \"postulate\" is satisfied.... I have\n taken care by my letter of the 17th that you should know my\n opinions _en bloc_. You are quite welcome to show it, if you think\n fit, to those whom you met. But Harcourt has, I believe, seen it,\n and the others, if I mistake not, know the substance.... There is\n no doubt that a very grave situation is upon us, a little sooner\n or a little later. All my desire and thought was how to render it\n less grave, for next to the demands of a question far higher than\n all or any party interests, is my duty to labour for the\n consolidation of the party.... Pray show this letter, if you think\n fit, to those on whose behalf you write. I propose to be available\n in London about 4 P.M., for any who wish to see me.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nSignals and intimations were not wholly wanting from the Irish camp. It\nwas known among the subalterns in that rather impenetrable region, partly\nby the light of nature, partly by the indiscretions of dubiously\naccredited ambassadors, that Mr. Gladstone was not disposed on any terms\nto meet the Irish demand by more coercion. For the liberal party as a\nwhole the Irish had a considerable aversion. The violent scenes that\nattended the Coercion bill of 1881, the interchange of hard words, the\nsuspensions, the imprisonments--all mechanically acquiesced in by the\nministerial majority--had engendered both bitterness and contempt. The\nIrishmen did not conceal the satisfaction with which they saw the defeat\nof some of those liberals who had openly gloated over their arrests and\nall the rest of their humiliations. Mr. Gladstone, it is true, had laid a\nheavy and chastening hand upon them. Yet, even when the struggle had been\nfiercest, with the quick intuition of a people long oppressed, they\ndetected a note of half-sympathetic passion which convinced them that he\nwould be their friend if he could, and would help them when he might.\n\nMr. Parnell was not open to impressions of this order. He had a long\nmemory for injuries, and he had by no means satisfied himself that the\nsame injuries might not recur. As soon as the general election was over,\nhe had at once set to work upon the result. Whatever might be right for\nothers, his line of tactics was plain--to ascertain from which of the two\nEnglish parties he was most likely to obtain the response that he desired\nto the Irish demand, and then to concert the procedure best fitted to\nplace that party in power. He was at first not sure whether Lord Salisbury\nwould renounce the Irish alliance after it had served the double purpose\nof ousting the liberals from office, and then reducing their numbers at\nthe election. He seems also to have counted upon further communications\nwith Lord Carnarvon, and this expectation was made known to Mr. Gladstone,\nwho expressed his satisfaction at the news, though it was also made known\nto him that Mr. Parnell doubted (M102) Lord Carnarvon's power to carry out\nhis unquestionably favourable dispositions. He at the same time very\nnaturally did his best to get some light as to Mr. Gladstone's own frame\nof mind. If neither party would offer a solution of the problem of Irish\ngovernment, Mr. Parnell would prefer to keep the tories in office, as they\nwould at least work out gradually a solution of the problems of Irish\nland. To all these indirect communications Mr. Gladstone's consistent\nreply was that Mr. Parnell's immediate business was with the government of\nthe day, first, because only the government could handle the matter;\nsecond, because a tory government with the aid that it would receive from\nliberals, might most certainly, safely, and quickly settle it. He declined\nto go beyond the ground already publicly taken by him, unless by way of a\nfurther public declaration. On to this new ground he would not go, until\nassured that the government had had a fair opportunity given them.\n\nBy the end of December Mr. Parnell decided that there was not the\nslightest possibility of any settlement being offered by the conservatives\nunder the existing circumstances. \"Whatever chance there was,\" he said,\n\"disappeared when the seemingly authoritative statements of Mr.\nGladstone's intention to deal with the question were published.\" He\nregarded it as quite probable that in spite of a direct refusal from the\ntories, the Irish members might prefer to pull along with them, rather\nthan run the risk of fresh coercion from the liberals, should the latter\nreturn to power. \"Supposing,\" he argued, \"that the liberals came into\noffice, and that they offered a settlement of so incomplete a character\nthat we could not accept it, or that owing to defections they could not\ncarry it, should we not, if any long interval occurred before the proposal\nof a fresh settlement, incur considerable risk of further coercion?\" At\nany rate, they had better keep the government in, rather than oust them in\norder to admit Lord Hartington or Mr. Chamberlain with a new coercion bill\nin their pockets.\n\nForeseeing these embarrassments, Mr. Gladstone wrote in a final memorandum\n(December 24) of this eventful year, \"I used every effort to obtain a\nclear majority at the election, and failed. I am therefore at present a\nman in chains. Will ministers bring in a measure? If 'Aye,' I see my way.\nIf 'No': that I presume puts an end to all relations of confidence between\nnationalists and tories. If that is done, I have then upon me, as is\nevident, the responsibilities of _the leader of a majority_. But what if\nneither Aye nor No can be had--will the nationalists then continue their\nsupport and thus relieve me from responsibility, or withdraw their support\n[from the government] and thus change essentially my position? Nothing but\na public or published dissolution of a relation of amity publicly sealed\ncould be of any avail.\"\n\nSo the year ended.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IV. Fall Of The First Salisbury Government. (January 1886)\n\n\n Historians coolly dissect a man's thoughts as they please; and\n label them like specimens in a naturalist's cabinet. Such a thing,\n they argue, was done for mere personal aggrandizement; such a\n thing for national objects; such a thing from high religious\n motives. In real life we may be sure it was not so.--GARDINER.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nMinisters meanwhile hesitated, balanced, doubted, and wavered. Their party\nwas in a minority, and so they had a fair plea for resigning and not\nmeeting the new parliament. On the other hand, they had a fair plea for\ncontinuing in office, for though they were in a minority, no other party\nhad a majority. Nobody knew what the Hartington whigs would do, or what\nthe Irish would do. There seemed to be many chances for expert angling.\nThen with what policy were they to meet the House of Commons? They might\nadhere to the conciliatory policy of the summer and autumn, keep clear of\nrepressive legislation, and make a bold attempt in the direction of\nself-government. Taking the same courageous plunge as was taken by\nWellington and Peel in 1829, by Peel in the winter of 1845, by Disraeli in\n1867, they might carry the declarations made by Lord Carnarvon on behalf\nof the government in July to their only practical conclusion. But then\nthey would have broken up their party, as Wellington and Peel broke it up;\nand Lord Salisbury may have asked himself whether the national emergency\nwarranted the party risk.\n\nResistance then to the Irish demand being assumed, various tactics came\nunder review. They might begin by asking for a vote of confidence, saying\nplainly that if they were turned out and Mr. Gladstone were put in, he\nwould propose home rule. In that case a majority was not wholly\nimpossible, for the whig wing might come over, nor was it quite certain\nthat the Irish would help to put the government out. At any rate the\ndebate would force Mr. Gladstone into the open, and even if they did not\nhave a majority, they would be in a position to advise immediate\ndissolution on the issue of home rule.\n\nThe only other course open to the cabinet was to turn their backs upon the\nprofessions of the summer; to throw overboard the Carnarvon policy as a\ncargo for which there was no longer a market; to abandon a great\nexperiment after a ludicrously short trial; and to pick up again the old\ninstrument of coercion, which not six months before they had with such\nelaborate ostentation condemned and discarded. This grand manoeuvre was\nkept carefully in the background, until there had been time for the whole\nchapter of accidents to exhaust itself, and it had become certain that no\ntrump cards were falling to the ministerial hand. Not until this was quite\nclear, did ministers reveal their poignant uneasiness about the state of\nIreland.\n\nIn the middle of October (1885) Lord Randolph Churchill visited the\nviceroy in Dublin, and found him, as he afterwards said, extremely anxious\nand alarmed at the growing power of the National League. Yet the viceroy\nwas not so anxious and alarmed as to prevent Lord Randolph from saying at\nBirmingham a month after, on November 20, that up to the present time\ntheir decision to preserve order by the same laws as in England had been\nabundantly justified, and that on the whole crime and outrage had greatly\ndiminished. This was curious, and shows how tortuous was the crisis. Only\na fortnight later the cabinet met (December 2), and heard of the\nextraordinary development and unlimited resources of the league. All the\nrest of the month of December,--so the public were by and by informed,--the\ncondition of Ireland was the subject of the most anxious consideration.\nWith great deliberation, a decision was at length reached. It was that\nordinary law had broken down, and that exceptional means of repression\nwere indispensable. Then a (M103) serious and embarrassing incident\noccurred. Lord Carnarvon \"threw up the government of Ireland,\" and was\nfollowed by Sir William Hart , the chief secretary.(171) A measure of\ncoercion was prepared, its provisions all drawn in statutory form, but who\nwas to warrant the necessity for it to parliament?(172)\n\nThough the viceroy's retirement was not publicly known until the middle of\nJanuary, yet so early as December 17 the prime minister had applied to Mr.\nSmith, then secretary of state for war, to undertake the duties of Irish\ngovernment.(173) This was one of the sacrifices that no man of public\nspirit can ever refuse, and Mr. Smith, who had plenty of public spirit,\nbecame Irish secretary. Still when parliament assembled more than a month\nafter Lord Salisbury's letter to his new chief secretary, no policy was\nannounced. Even on the second night of the session Mr. Smith answered\nquestions for the war office. The parliamentary mystification was\ncomplete. Who, where, and what was the Irish government?\n\nThe parliamentary session was rapidly approaching, and Mr. Gladstone had\ngood information of the various quarters whence the wind was blowing.\nRumours reached him (January 9) from the purlieus of Parliament Street,\nthat general words of confidence in the government would be found in the\nQueen's Speech. Next he was told of the report that an amendment would be\nmoved by the ultras of law and order,--the same who had mutinied on the\nMaamtrasna debate,--censuring ministers for having failed to uphold the\nauthority of the Queen. The same correspondent (January 15), who was well\nable to make his words good, wrote to Mr. Gladstone that even though home\nrule might perhaps not be in a parliamentary sense before the House, it\nwas in a most distinct manner before the country, and no political party\ncould avoid expressing an opinion upon it. On the same day another\ncolleague of hardly less importance drew attention to an article in a\njournal supposed to be inspired by Lord Randolph, to the effect that\nconciliation in Ireland had totally failed, that Lord Carnarvon had\nretired because that policy was to be reversed and he was not the man for\nthe rival policy of vigour, and finally, that the new policy would\nprobably be announced in the Queen's Speech; in no circumstances would it\nbe possible to avoid a general action on the Address.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe current of domestic life at Hawarden, in the midst of all these\nperplexities, flowed in its usual ordered channels. The engagement of his\nsecond daughter stirred Mr. Gladstone's deepest interest. He practised\noccasional woodcraft with his sons, though ending his seventy-sixth year.\nHe spends a morning in reviewing his private money affairs, the first time\nfor three years. He never misses church. He corrects the proofs of an\narticle on Huxley; carries on tolerably profuse correspondence, coming to\nvery little; he works among his books, and arranges his papers; reads\nBeaconsfield's _Home Letters_, Lord Stanhope's _Pitt_, Macaulay's _Warren\nHastings_, which he counts the most brilliant of all that illustrious\nman's performances; Maine on _Popular Government_; _King Solomon's Mines_;\nsomething of Tolstoy; Dicey's _Law of the Constitution_, where a chapter\non semi-sovereign assemblies made a deep impression on him in regard to\nthe business that now absorbed his mind. Above all, he nearly every day\nreads Burke: \"_December 18._--Read Burke; what a magazine of wisdom on\nIreland and America. _January 9._--Made many extracts from Burke--_sometimes\nalmost divine_.\"(174) We may easily imagine how the heat from that\nprofound and glowing furnace still further inflamed strong purposes and\nexalted resolution in Mr. Gladstone. The Duke of Argyll wrote to say that\nhe was sorry to hear of the study of Burke: \"Your _perfervidum ingenium\nScoti_ does not need being touched with a live coal from that Irish altar.\nOf course your reference to Burke indicates a tendency to compare our\nposition as regards Ireland to the position of George III. towards the\ncolonies. I deny that there is any parallelism or even analogy.\" (M104) It\nwas during these months that he renewed his friendly intercourse with\nCardinal Manning, which had been suspended since the controversy upon the\nVatican pamphlets. In November Mr. Gladstone sent Manning his article on\nthe \"Dawn of Creation.\" The cardinal thanked him for the paper--\"still more\nfor your words, which revive the memories of old days. Fifty-five years\nare a long reach of life in which to remember each other. We have twice\nbeen parted, but as the path declines, as you say, it narrows, and I am\nglad that we are again nearing each other as we near our end.... If we\ncannot unite in the realm where 'the morning stars sang together' we\nshould be indeed far off.\" Much correspondence followed on the articles\nagainst Huxley. Then his birthday came:--\n\n\n Postal deliveries and other arrivals were seven hundred.\n Immeasurable kindness almost overwhelmed us. There was also the\n heavy and incessant weight of the Irish question, which offers\n daily phases more or less new. It was a day for intense\n thankfulness, but, alas, not for recollection and detachment. When\n will that day come? Until then, why string together the\n commonplaces and generalities of great things, really unfelt?... I\n am certain there is one keen and deep desire to be extricated from\n the life of contention in which a chain of incidents has for the\n last four years detained me against all my will. Then, indeed, I\n should reach an eminence from which I could look before and after.\n But I know truly that I am not worthy of this liberty with which\n Christ makes free his elect. In his own good time, something, I\n trust, will for me too be mercifully devised.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAt the end of this long travail, which anybody else would have found all\nthe sorer for the isolation and quietude that it was ever Mr. Gladstone's\nfashion in moments of emergency to seek, he reached London on January\n11th; two days later he took the oath in the new parliament, whose life\nwas destined to be so short; and then he found himself on the edge of the\nwhirlpool. Three days before formalities were over, and the House\nassembled for the despatch of business, he received a communication that\nmuch perturbed him, and shed an ominous light on the prospect of liberal\nunity. This communication he described to Lord Granville:--\n\n\n _21 Carlton House Terrace, Jan. 18, 1886._--Hartington writes to me\n a letter indicating the possibility that on Thursday, while I\n announce with reasons a policy of silence and reserve, he may feel\n it his duty to declare his determination \"to maintain the\n legislative union,\" that is to proclaim a policy (so I understand\n the phrase) of absolute resistance without examination to the\n demand made by Ireland through five-sixths of her members. This is\n to play the tory game with a vengeance. They are now, most rashly\n not to say more, working the Irish question to split the liberal\n party.\n\n It seems to me that if a gratuitous declaration of this kind is\n made, it must produce an explosion; and that in a week's time\n Hartington will have to consider whether he will lead the liberal\n party himself, or leave it to chaos. He will make my position\n impossible. When, in conformity with the wishes expressed to me, I\n changed my plans and became a candidate at the general election,\n my motives were two. The _first_, a hope that I might be able to\n contribute towards some pacific settlement of the Irish question.\n The _second_, a desire to prevent the splitting of the party, of\n which there appeared to be an immediate danger. The second object\n has thus far been attained. But it may at any moment be lost, and\n the most disastrous mode of losing it perhaps would be that now\n brought into view. It would be certainly opposed to my convictions\n and determination, to attempt to lead anything like a home rule\n opposition, and to make this subject--the strife of nations--the\n dividing line between parties. This being so, I do not see how I\n could as leader survive a gratuitous declaration of opposition to\n me such as Hartington appears to meditate. If he still meditates\n it, ought not the party to be previously informed?\n\n Pray, consider whether you can bring this subject before him, less\n invidiously than I. I have explained to you and I believe to him,\n and I believe you approve, my general idea, that we ought not to\n join issue with the government on what is called home rule (which\n indeed the social state of Ireland may effectually thrust aside\n for the time); and that still less ought we to join issue among\n ourselves, if we have a choice, unless and until we are called\n upon to consider whether or not to take the government. I for one\n will have nothing to do with ruining the party if I can avoid it.\n\n\nThis letter discloses with precision the critical state of facts on the\neve of action being taken. Issue was not directly joined with ministers on\nhome rule; no choice was found to exist as to taking the government; and\nthis brought deep and long-standing diversities among the liberal leaders\nto the issue that Mr. Gladstone had strenuously laboured to avoid from the\nbeginning of 1885 to the end.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThe Irish paragraphs in the speech from the throne (January 21, 1886) were\nabstract, hypothetical, and vague. The sovereign was made to say that\nduring the past year there had been no marked increase of serious crime,\nbut there was in many places a concerted resistance to the enforcement of\nlegal obligations, and the practice of intimidation continued to exist.\n\"If,\" the speech went on, \"as my information leads me to apprehend, the\nexisting provisions of the law should prove to be inadequate to cope with\nthese growing evils, I look with confidence to your willingness to invest\nmy government with all necessary powers.\" There was also an abstract\nparagraph about the legislative union between the two islands.\n\nIn a fragment composed in the autumn of 1897, Mr. Gladstone has described\nthe anxiety with which he watched the course of proceedings on the\nAddress:--\n\n\n I had no means of forming an estimate how far the bulk of the\n liberal party could be relied on to support a measure of home\n rule, which should constitute an Irish parliament subject to the\n supremacy of the parliament at Westminster. I was not sanguine on\n this head. Even in the month of December, when rumours of my\n intentions were afloat, I found how little I could reckon on a\n general support. Under the circumstances I certainly took upon\n myself a grave responsibility. I attached value to the acts and\n language of Lord Carnarvon, and the other favourable\n manifestations. Subsequently we had but too much evidence of a\n deliberate intention to deceive the Irish, with a view to their\n support at the election. But in the actual circumstances I thought\n it my duty to encourage the government of Lord Salisbury to settle\n the Irish question, so far as I could do this by promises of my\n personal support. Hence my communication with Mr. Balfour, which\n has long been in the hands of the public.\n\n It has been unreasonably imputed to me, that the proposal of home\n rule was a bid for the Irish vote. But my desire for the\n adjustment of the question by the tories is surely a conclusive\n answer. The fact is that I could not rely upon the collective\n support of the liberals; but I could and did rely upon the support\n of so many of them as would make the success of the measure\n certain, in the event of its being proposed by the tory\n administration. It would have resembled in substance the liberal\n support given to Roman catholic emancipation in 1829, and the\n repeal of the corn laws in 1846. Before the meeting of parliament,\n I had to encounter uncomfortable symptoms among my principal\n friends, of which I think ---- was the organ.\n\n I was, therefore, by no means eager for the dismissal of the tory\n government, though it counted but 250 supporters out of 670, as\n long as there were hopes of its taking up the question, or at all\n events doing nothing to aggravate the situation.\n\n When we came to the debate on the Address I had to face a night of\n extreme anxiety. The speech from the throne referred in a menacing\n way to Irish disturbances, and contained a distinct declaration in\n support of the legislative union. On referring to the clerks at\n the table to learn in what terms the Address in reply to the\n speech was couched, I found it was a \"thanking\" address, which did\n not commit the House to an opinion. What I dreaded was lest some\n one should have gone back to the precedent of 1833, when the\n Address in reply to the speech was virtually made the vehicle of a\n solemn declaration in favour of the Act of Union.(175)\n\n Home rule, rightly understood, altered indeed the terms of the Act\n of Union, but adhered to its principle, which was the supremacy of\n the imperial parliament. Still [it] was pretty certain that any\n declaration of a substantive character, at the epoch we had now\n reached, would in its moral effect shut the doors of the existing\n parliament against home rule.\n\n In a speech of pronounced clearness, Mr. Arthur Elliot endeavoured\n to obtain a movement in this direction. I thought it would be\n morally fatal if this tone were extensively adopted on the liberal\n side; so I determined on an effort to secure reserve for the time,\n that our freedom might not be compromised. I, therefore, ventured\n upon describing myself as an \"old parliamentary hand,\" and in that\n capacity strongly advised the party to keep its own counsel, and\n await for a little the development of events. Happily this counsel\n was taken; had it been otherwise, the early formation of a\n government favourable to home rule would in all likelihood have\n become an impossibility. For although our Home Rule bill was\n eventually supported by more than 300 members, I doubt whether, if\n the question had been prematurely raised on the night of the\n Address, as many as 200 would have been disposed to act in that\n sense.\n\n\nIn the debate on the Address the draft Coercion bill reposing in the\nsecret box was not mentioned. Sir Michael Hicks Beach, the leader of the\nHouse, described the mischiefs then afoot, and went on to say that whether\nthey could be dealt with by ordinary law, or would require exceptional\npowers, were questions that would receive the new chief secretary's\nimmediate attention,(176) Parliament was told that the minister had\nactually gone to Ireland to make anxious inquiry into these questions. Mr.\nSmith arrived in Dublin at six o'clock on the morning of January 24, and\nhe quitted it at six o'clock on the evening of the 26th. He was sworn in\nat the Castle in the forenoon of that day.(177) His views must have\nreached the cabinet in London not later than the morning of the 26th. Not\noften can conclusions on such a subject have been ripened with such\nelectrifying precocity.\n\n\"I intend to reserve my own freedom of action,\" Mr. Gladstone said; \"there\nare many who have taken their seats for the first time upon these benches,\nand I may avail myself of the privilege of old age to offer a\nrecommendation. I would tell them of my own intention to keep my counsel\nand reserve my own freedom, until I see the moment and the occasion when\nthere may be a prospect of public benefit in endeavouring to make a\nmovement forward, and I will venture to recommend them, as an old\nparliamentary hand, to do the same.\"(178) Something in this turn of phrase\nkindled lively irritation, and it drew bitter reproaches from more than\none of the younger whigs. The angriest of these remonstrances was listened\nto from beginning to end without a solitary cheer from the liberal\nbenches. The great bulk of the party took their leader's advice. Of course\nthe reserve of his speech was as significant of Irish concession, as the\nmost open declaration would have been. Yet there was no rebellion. This\nwas felt by ministers to be a decisive omen of the general support likely\nto be given to Mr. Gladstone's supposed policy by his own party. Mr.\nParnell offered some complimentary remarks on the language of Mr.\nGladstone, but he made no move in the direction of an amendment. The\npublic outside looked on with stupefaction. For two or three days all\nseemed to be in suspense. But the two ministerial leaders in the Commons\nknew how to read the signs. What Sir Michael (M105) Hicks Beach and Lord\nRandolph foresaw, for one thing was an understanding between Mr. Gladstone\nand the Irishmen, and for another, they foresaw the acquiescence of the\nmass of the liberals. This twofold discovery cleared the ground for a\ndecision. After the second night's debate ministers saw that the only\nchance now was to propose coercion. Then it was that the ephemeral chief\nsecretary had started on his voyage for the discovery of something that\nhad already been found.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nOn the afternoon of the 26th, the leader of the House gave notice that two\ndays later the new Irish secretary would ask leave to introduce a bill\ndealing with the National League, with intimidation, and with the\nprotection of life, property, and public order. This would be followed by\na bill dealing with land, pursuing in a more extensive sense the policy of\nthe Ashbourne Act of the year before. The great issue was thus at last\nbrought suddenly and nakedly into view. When the Irish secretary reached\nEuston Square on the morning of the 27th, he found that his government was\nout.\n\nThe crucial announcement of the 26th of January compelled a prompt\ndetermination, and Mr. Gladstone did not shrink. A protest against a\nreturn to coercion as the answer of the British parliament to the\nextraordinary demonstration from Ireland, carried with it the\nresponsibility of office, and this responsibility Mr. Gladstone had\nresolved to undertake.\n\n\n The determining event of these transactions,--he says in the\n fragment already cited,--was the declaration of the government that\n they would propose coercion for Ireland. This declaration put an\n end to all the hopes and expectations associated with the mission\n of Lord Carnarvon. Not perhaps in mere logic, but practically, it\n was now plain that Ireland had no hope from the tories. This being\n so, my rule of action was changed at once, and I determined on\n taking any and every legitimate opportunity to remove the existing\n government from office. Immediately on making up my mind about the\n rejection of the government, I went to call upon Sir William\n Harcourt and informed him as to my intentions and the grounds of\n them. He said, \"What! Are you prepared to go forward without\n either Hartington or Chamberlain?\" I answered, \"Yes.\" I believe it\n was in my mind to say, if I did not actually say it, that I was\n prepared to go forward without anybody. That is to say without any\n known and positive assurance of support. This was one of the great\n imperial occasions which call for such resolutions.\n\n\nAn amendment stood upon the notice-paper in the name of Mr. Collings,\nregretting the omission from the speech of measures for benefiting the\nrural labourer; and on this motion an immediate engagement was fought.\nTime was important. An exasperating debate on coercion with obstruction,\ndisorder, suspensions, would have been a damning prologue to any policy of\naccommodation. The true significance of the motion was not concealed. On\nthe agrarian aspect of it, the only important feature was the adhesion of\nMr. Gladstone, now first formally declared, to the policy of Mr.\nChamberlain. The author of the agrarian policy fought out once more on the\nfloor of the House against Lord Hartington and Mr. Goschen the battle of\nthe platform. It was left for Sir Michael Hicks Beach to remind the House\nthat, whatever the honest mover might mean, the rural labourer had very\nlittle to do with the matter, and he implored the gentlemen in front of\nhim to think twice and thrice before they committed the future of this\ncountry to the gravest dangers that ever awaited it.\n\nThe debate was not prolonged. The discussion opened shortly before dinner,\nand by one o'clock the division was taken. The government found itself in\na minority of 79. The majority numbered 331, composed of 257 liberals and\n74 Irish nationalists. The ministerialist minority was 252, made up of 234\ntories and 18 liberals. Besides the fact that Lord Hartington, Mr.\nGoschen, and Sir Henry James voted with ministers, there was a still more\nominous circumstance. No fewer than 76 liberals were absent, including\namong them the imposing personality of Mr. Bright. In a memorandum written\nfor submission to the Queen a few days later, Mr. Gladstone said, \"I must\nexpress my personal conviction that had the late ministers remained in\noffice and proceeded with their proposed plan of repression, and even had\nthat plan received my support, it would have ended in a disastrous\nparliamentary failure.\"(179)\n\nThe next day (Jan. 28) ministers of course determined to resign. A liberal\nmember of parliament was overtaken by Lord Randolph on the parade ground,\nwalking away from the cabinet. \"You look a little pensive,\" said the\nliberal. \"Yes; I was thinking. I have plenty to think of. Well, we are\nout, and you are in.\" \"I suppose so,\" the liberal replied, \"we are in for\nsix months; we dissolve; you are in for six years.\" \"Not at all sure,\"\nsaid Lord Randolph; \"let me tell you one thing most solemnly and most\nsurely: the conservative party are not going to be made the instrument of\nthe Irish for turning out Mr. Gladstone, if he refuses repeal.\" \"Nobody,\"\nobserved the sententious liberal, \"should so often as the politician say\nthe prayer not to be led into temptation. Remember your doings last\nsummer.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter V. The New Policy. (1886)\n\n\n In reason all government without the consent of the governed is\n the very definition of slavery; but in fact eleven men well armed\n will certainly subdue one single man in his shirt.... Those who\n have used to cramp liberty have gone so far as to resent even the\n liberty of complaining; although a man upon the rack was never\n known to be refused the liberty of roaring as loud as he thought\n fit.--JONATHAN SWIFT.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe tory government was defeated in the sitting of Tuesday (Jan. 26). On\nFriday, \"at a quarter after midnight, in came Sir H. Ponsonby, with verbal\ncommission from her Majesty, which I at once accepted.\"(180) The whole of\nSaturday was spent in consultations with colleagues. On Sunday, Mr.\nGladstone records, \"except church, my day from one to eight was given to\nbusiness. I got only fragmentary reading of the life of the admirable Mr.\nSuckling and other books. At night came a painful and harassing succession\nof letters, and my sleep for once gave way; yet for the soul it was\nprofitable, driving me to the hope that the strength of God might be made\nmanifest in my weakness.\" On Monday, Feb. 1, he went to attend the Queen.\n\"Off at 9.10 to Osborne. Two audiences: an hour and half in all.\nEverything good in the main points. Large discourse upon Ireland in\nparticular. Returned at 7-3/4. I kissed hands and am thereby prime minister\nfor the third time. But, as I trust, for a brief time only. Slept well,\n_D.G._\"\n\nThe first question was, how many of his colleagues in the liberal cabinet\nthat went out of office six months before, would now embark with him in\nthe voyage into stormy and unexplored seas. I should suppose that no such\ndifficulties (M106) had ever confronted the attempt at making a cabinet\nsince Canning's in 1827.\n\nMr. Gladstone begins the fragment from which I have already quoted with a\nsentence or two of retrospect, and then proceeds:--\n\n\n In 1885 (I think) Chamberlain had proposed a plan accepted by\n Parnell (and supported by me) which, without establishing in\n Ireland a national parliament, made very considerable advances\n towards self-government. It was rejected by a small majority of\n the cabinet--Granville said at the time he would rather take home\n rule. Spencer thought it would introduce confusion into executive\n duties.\n\n On the present occasion a full half of the former ministers\n declined to march with me. Spencer and Granville were my main\n supports. Chamberlain and Trevelyan went with me, their basis\n being that we were to seek for some method of dealing with the\n Irish case other than coercion. What Chamberlain's motive was I do\n not clearly understand. It was stated that he coveted the Irish\n secretaryship.... To have given him the office would at that time\n have been held to be a declaration of war against the Irish party.\n\n Selborne nibbled at the offer, but I felt that it would not work,\n and did not use great efforts to bring him in.(181)\n\n When I had accepted the commission, Ponsonby brought me a message\n from the Queen that she hoped there would not be any Separation in\n the cabinet. The word had not at that time acquired the offensive\n meaning in which it has since been stereotyped by the so-called\n unionists; and it was easy to frame a reply in general but strong\n words. I am bound to say that at Osborne in the course of a long\n conversation, the Queen was frank and free, and showed none of the\n \"armed neutrality,\" which as far as I know has been the best\n definition of her attitude in the more recent years towards a\n liberal minister. Upon the whole, when I look back upon 1886, and\n consider the inveterate sentiment of hostility flavoured with\n contempt towards Ireland, which has from time immemorial formed\n the basis of English, tradition, I am much more disposed to be\n thankful for what we then and afterwards accomplished, than to\n murmur or to wonder at what we did not.\n\n\nWhat Mr. Gladstone called the basis of his new government was set out in a\nshort memorandum, which he read to each of those whom he hoped to include\nin his cabinet: \"I propose to examine whether it is or is not practicable\nto comply with the desire widely prevalent in Ireland, and testified by\nthe return of eighty-five out of one hundred and three representatives,\nfor the establishment by statute of a legislative body to sit in Dublin,\nand to deal with Irish as distinguished from imperial affairs; in such a\nmanner as would be just to each of the three kingdoms, equitable with\nreference to every class of the people of Ireland, conducive to the social\norder and harmony of that country, and calculated to support and\nconsolidate the unity of the empire on the continued basis of imperial\nauthority and mutual attachment.\"\n\nNo definite plan was propounded or foreshadowed, but only the proposition\nthat it was a duty to seek a plan. The cynical version was that a cabinet\nwas got together on the chance of being able to agree. To Lord Hartington,\nMr. Gladstone applied as soon as he received the Queen's commission. The\ninvitation was declined on reasoned grounds (January 30). Examination and\ninquiry, said Lord Hartington, must mean a proposal. If no proposal\nfollowed inquiry, the reaction of Irish disappointment would be severe, as\nit would be natural. His adherence, moreover, would be of little value. He\nhad already, he observed, in the government of 1880 made concessions on\nother subjects that might be thought to have shaken public confidence in\nhim; he could go no further without destroying that confidence altogether.\nHowever that might be, he could not depart from the traditions of British\nstatesmen, and he was opposed to a separate Irish legislature. At the same\ntime he concluded, in a sentence afterwards pressed by Mr. Gladstone on\nthe notice of the Queen: \"I am fully convinced that the alternative policy\nof governing Ireland without large concessions to the national sentiment,\npresents difficulties of a tremendous character, which in my opinion could\nnow only be faced by the support of a nation united by the consciousness\nthat the fullest opportunity had been given for the production and\nconsideration of a conciliatory policy.\"\n\nA few days later (February 5) Lord Hartington wrote: \"I have been told\nthat I have been represented as having been in general agreement with you\non your Irish policy, and having been prevented joining your government\nsolely by the declarations which I made to my constituents; and as not\nintending to oppose the government even on home rule. On looking over my\nletter I think that the general intention is sufficiently clear, but there\nis part of one sentence which, taken by itself, might be understood as\ncommitting me beyond what I intended or wished. The words I refer to are\nthose in which I say that it may be possible for me as a private member to\nprevent obstacles being placed in the way of a fair trial being given to\nthe policy of the new government. But I think that the commencement of the\nsentence in which these words occur sufficiently reserves my liberty, and\nthat the whole letter shows that what I desire is that the somewhat\nundefined declarations which have hitherto been made should now assume a\npractical shape.\"(182)\n\nThe decision was persistently regarded by Mr. Gladstone as an important\nevent in English political history. With a small number of distinguished\nindividual exceptions, it marked the withdrawal from the liberal party of\nthe aristocratic element. Up to a very recent date this had been its\ngoverning element. Until 1868, the whig nobles and their connections held\nthe reins and shaped the policy. After the accession of a leader from\noutside of the caste in 1868, when Mr. Gladstone for the first time became\nprime minister, they continued to hold more than their share of the\noffices, but in cabinet they sank to the position of what is called a\nmoderating force. After 1880 it became every day more clear that even this\nmodest function was slipping away. Lord Hartington found that the\nmoderating force could no longer moderate. If he went on, he must make up\nhis mind to go under the Caudine forks once a week. The significant\nreference, among his reasons for not joining the new ministry, to the\nconcessions that he had made in the last government for the sake of party\nunity, and to his feeling that any further moves of the same kind for the\nsame purpose would destroy all public confidence in him, shows just as the\ncircumstances of the election had shown, and as the recent debate on the\nCollings amendment had shown, how small were the chances, quite apart from\nIrish policy, of uniting whig and radical wings in any durable liberal\ngovernment.\n\nMr. Goschen, who had been a valuable member of the great ministry of 1868,\nwas invited to call, but without hopes that he would rally to a cause so\nstartling; the interview, while courteous and pleasant, was over in a very\nfew minutes. Lord Derby, a man of still more cautious type, and a rather\nrecent addition to the officers of the liberal staff, declined, not\nwithout good nature. Lord Northbrook had no faith in a new Irish policy,\nand his confidence in his late leader had been shaken by Egypt. Most\nlamented of all the abstentions was the honoured and trusted name of Mr.\nBright.\n\nMr. Trevelyan agreed to join, in the entirely defensible hope that they\n\"would knock the measure about in the cabinet, as cabinets do,\" and mould\nit into accord with what had until now been the opinion of most of its\nmembers.(183) Mr. Chamberlain, who was destined to play so singular and\nversatile a part in the eventful years to come, entered the cabinet with\nreluctance and misgiving. The Admiralty was first proposed to him and was\ndeclined, partly on the ground that the chief of the fighting and spending\ndepartments was not the post for one who had just given to domestic\nreforms the paramount place in his stirring addresses to (M107) the\ncountry. Mr. Chamberlain, we may be sure, was not much concerned about the\nparticular office. Whatever its place in the hierarchy, he knew that he\ncould trust himself to make it as important as he pleased, and that his\nweight in the cabinet and the House would not depend upon the accident of\na department. Nobody's position was so difficult. He was well aware how\nserious a thing it would be for his prospects, if he were to join a\nconfederacy of his arch enemies, the whigs, against Mr. Gladstone, the\ncommanding idol of his friends, the radicals. If, on the other hand, by\nrefusing to enter the government he should either prevent its formation or\nshould cause its speedy overthrow, he would be left planted with a\ncomparatively ineffective group of his own, and he would incur the deep\nresentment of the bulk of those with whom he had hitherto been accustomed\nto act.\n\nAll these were legitimate considerations in the mind of a man with the\ninstinct of party management. In the end he joined his former chief. He\nmade no concealment of his position. He warned the prime minister that he\ndid not believe it to be possible to reconcile conditions as to the\nsecurity of the empire and the supremacy of parliament, with the\nestablishment of a legislative body in Dublin. He declared his own\npreference for an attempt to come to terms with the Irish members on the\nbasis of a more limited scheme of local government, coupled with proposals\nabout land and about education. At the same time, as the minister had been\ngood enough to leave him unlimited liberty of judgment and rejection, he\nwas ready to give unprejudiced examination to more extensive\nproposals.(184) Such was Mr. Chamberlain's excuse for joining. It is\nhardly so intelligible as Lord Hartington's reasons for not joining. For\nthe new government could only subsist by Irish support. That support\nnotoriously depended on the concession of more than a limited scheme of\nlocal government. The administration would have been overthrown in a week,\nand to form a cabinet on such a basis as was here proposed would be the\nidlest experiment that ever was tried.\n\nThe appointment of the writer of these pages to be Irish secretary was at\nonce generally regarded as decisive of Mr. Gladstone's ultimate intention,\nfor during the election and afterwards I had spoken strongly in favour of\na colonial type of government for Ireland. It was rightly pressed upon Mr.\nGladstone by at least one of his most experienced advisers, that such an\nappointment to this particular office would be construed as a declaration\nin favour of an Irish parliament, without any further examination at\nall.(185) And so, in fact, it was generally construed.\n\nNobody was more active in aiding the formation of the new ministry than\nSir William Harcourt, in whose powerful composition loyalty to party and\nconviction of the value of party have ever been indestructible instincts.\n\"I must not let the week absolutely close,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote to him\nfrom Mentmore (February 6), \"without emphatically thanking you for the\nindefatigable and effective help which you have rendered to me during its\ncourse, in the difficult work now nearly accomplished.\"\n\nAt the close of the operation, he writes from Downing Street to his son\nHenry, then in India:--\n\n\n _February 12, 1886._ You see the old date has reappeared at the\n head of my letter. The work last week was extremely hard from the\n mixture of political discussions on the Irish question, by way of\n preliminary condition, with the ordinary distribution of offices,\n which while it lasts is of itself difficult enough.\n\n Upon the whole I am well satisfied with its composition. It is not\n a bit more radical than the government of last year; perhaps a\n little less. And we have got some good young hands, which please\n me very much. Yet short as the Salisbury government has been, it\n would not at all surprise me if this were to be shorter still,\n such are the difficulties that bristle round the Irish question.\n But the great thing is to be right; and as far as matters have yet\n advanced, I see no reason to be apprehensive in this capital\n respect. I have framed a plan for the land and for the finance of\n what must be a very large transaction. It is necessary to see our\n way a little on these at the outset, for, unless these portions of\n anything we attempt are sound and well constructed, we cannot hope\n to succeed. On the other hand, if we fail, as I believe the late\n ministers would have failed even to pass their plan of repressive\n legislation, the consequences will be deplorable in every way.\n There seems to be no doubt that some, and notably Lord R.\n Churchill, fully reckoned on my failing to form a government.(186)\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe work pressed, and time was terribly short. The new ministers had\nbarely gone through their re-elections before the opposition began to\nharry them for their policy, and went so far, before the government was\nfive weeks old, as to make the extreme motion for refusing supply. Even if\nthe opposition had been in more modest humour, no considerable delay could\nbe defended. Social order in Ireland was in a profoundly unsatisfactory\nphase. That fact was the starting-point of the reversal of policy which\nthe government had come into existence to carry out. You cannot announce a\ngrand revolution, and then beg the world to wait. The very reason that\njustified the policy commanded expedition. Anxiety and excitement were too\nintense out of doors for anything but a speedy date, and it was quite\ncertain that if the new plan were not at once propounded, no other public\nbusiness would have much chance.\n\nThe new administration did not meet parliament until after the middle of\nFebruary, and the two Irish bills, in which their policy was contained,\nwere ready by the end of the first week of April. Considering the enormous\nbreadth and intricacy of the subjects, the pressure of parliamentary\nbusiness all the time, the exigencies of administrative work in the case\nof at least one of the ministers principally concerned, and the\ndistracting atmosphere of party perturbation and disquiet that daily and\nhourly harassed the work, the despatch of such a task within such limits\nof time was at least not discreditable to the industry and concentration\nof those who achieved it. I leave it still open to the hostile critic to\nsay, as Moliere's Alceste says of the sonnet composed in a quarter of an\nhour, that time has nothing to do with the business.\n\nAll through March Mr. Gladstone laboured in what he called \"stiff\nconclaves\" about finance and land, attended drawing rooms, and \"observed\nthe variations of H.M.'s _accueils_\"; had an audience of the Queen, \"very\ngracious, but avoided serious subjects\"; was laid up with cold, and the\nweather made Sir Andrew Clark strict; then rose up to fresh grapples with\nfinance and land and untoward colleagues, and all the \"inexorable demands\nof my political vocation.\" His patience and self-control were as\nmarvellous as his tireless industry. Sorely tried by something or another\nat a cabinet, he enters,--\"Angry with myself for not bearing it better. I\nought to have been thankful for it all the time.\" On a similar occasion, a\njunior colleague showed himself less thankful than he should have been for\npurposeless antagonism. \"Think of it as discipline,\" said Mr. (M108)\nGladstone. \"But why,\" said the unregenerate junior, \"should we grudge the\nblessings of discipline to some other people?\"\n\nMr. Gladstone was often blamed even by Laodiceans among his supporters,\nnot wise but foolish after the event, because he did not proceed by way of\nresolution, instead of by bill. Resolutions, it was argued, would have\nsmoothed the way. General propositions would have found readier access to\nmen's minds. Having accepted the general proposition, people would have\nfound it harder to resist the particular application. Devices that\nstartled in the precision of a clause, would in the vagueness of a broad\nand abstract principle have soothed and persuaded. Mr. Gladstone was\nperfectly alive to all this, but his answer to it was plain. Those who\neventually threw out the bill would insist on unmasking the resolution.\nThey would have exhausted all the stereotyped vituperation of abstract\nmotions. They would have ridiculed any general proposition as mere\nplatitude, and pertinaciously clamoured for working details. What would\nthe resolution have affirmed? The expediency of setting up a legislative\nauthority in Ireland to deal with exclusively Irish affairs. But such a\nresolution would be consistent equally with a narrow scheme on the one\nhand, such as a plan for national councils, and a broad scheme on the\nother, giving to Ireland a separate exchequer, separate control over\ncustoms and excise, and practically an independent and co-ordinate\nlegislature.(187) How could the government meet the challenge to say\noutright whether they intended broad or narrow? Such a resolution could\nhardly have outlived an evening's debate, and would not have postponed the\nevil day of schism for a single week.\n\nPrecedents lent no support. It is true that the way was prepared for the\nAct of Union in the parliament of Great Britain, by the string of\nresolutions moved by Mr. Pitt in the beginning of 1799. But anybody who\nglances at them, will at once perceive that if resolutions on their model\nhad been framed for the occasion of 1886, they would have covered the\nwhole ground of the actual bill, and would instantly have raised all the\nformidable objections and difficulties exactly as the bill itself raised\nthem. The Bank Charter Act of 1833 was founded on eight resolutions, and\nthey also set forth in detail the points of the ministerial plan.(188) The\nrenewal of the East India Company's charter in the same year went on by\nway of resolutions, less abundant in particulars than the Bank Act, but\npreceded by correspondence and papers which had been exhaustively\ncanvassed and discussed.(189) The question of Irish autonomy was in no\nposition of that sort.\n\nThe most apt precedent in some respects is to be found on a glorious\noccasion, also in the year 1833. Mr. Stanley introduced the proposals of\nhis government for the emancipation of the West Indian slaves in five\nresolutions. They furnished a key not only to policy and general\nprinciples, but also to the plan by which these were to be carried\nout.(190) Lord Howick followed the minister at once, raising directly the\nwhole question of the plan. Who could doubt that Lord Hartington would now\ntake precisely the same course towards Irish resolutions of similar scope?\nThe procedure on the India bill of 1858 was just as little to the point.\nThe general disposition of the House was wholly friendly to a settlement\nof the question of Indian government by the existing ministry. No single\nsection of the opposition wished to take it out of their hands, for\nneither Lord Russell nor the Peelites nor the Manchester men, and probably\nnot even Lord Palmerston himself, were anxious for the immediate return of\nthe last-named minister to power. Who will pretend that in the House, of\nCommons in February 1886, anything at all like the same state of facts\nprevailed? As for the resolutions in the case of the Irish church, they\nwere moved by Mr. Gladstone in opposition, and he thought it obvious that\na policy proposed in opposition stands on a totally different footing from\na policy laid before parliament on the responsibility of a government, and\na government bound by every necessity of the situation to prompt\naction.(191)\n\n(M109) At a later stage, as we shall see, it was actually proposed that a\nvote for the second reading of the bill should be taken to mean no more\nthan a vote for its principle. Every one of the objections that instantly\nsprang out of their ambush against this proposal would have worked just as\nmuch mischief against an initial resolution. In short, in opening a policy\nof this difficulty and extent, the cabinet was bound to produce to\nparliament not merely its policy but its plan for carrying the policy out.\nBy that course only could parliament know what it was doing. Any other\ncourse must have ended in a mystifying, irritating, and barren confusion,\nalike in the House of Commons and in the country.(192)\n\nThe same consideration that made procedure by resolution unadvisable told\nwith equal force within the cabinet. Examination into the feasibility of\nsome sort of plan was most rapidly brought to a head by the test of a\nparticular plan. It is a mere fable of faction that a cast iron policy was\narbitrarily imposed upon the cabinet; as matter of fact, the plan\noriginally propounded did undergo large and radical modifications.\n\nThe policy as a whole shaped itself in two measures. First, a scheme for\ncreating a legislative body, and defining its powers; second, a scheme for\nopening the way to a settlement of the land question, in discharge of an\nobligation of honour and policy, imposed upon this country by its active\nshare in all the mischiefs that the Irish land system had produced. The\nintroduction of a plan for dealing with the land was not very popular even\namong ministers, but it was pressed by Lord Spencer and the Irish\nsecretary, on the double ground that the land was too burning a question\nto be left where it then stood, and next that it was unfair to a new and\nuntried legislature in Ireland to find itself confronted by such a\nquestion on the very threshold.\n\nThe plan was opened by Mr. Gladstone in cabinet on March 13th, and Mr.\nChamberlain and Mr. Trevelyan at once wished to resign. He remonstrated in\na vigorous correspondence. \"I have seen many and many a resignation,\" he\nsaid, \"but never one based upon the intentions, nay the immature\nintentions, of the prime minister, and on a pure intuition of what may\nhappen. Bricks and rafters are prepared for a house, but are not\nthemselves a house.\" The evil hour was postponed, but not for long. The\nCabinet met again a few days later (March 26) and things came to a sharp\nissue. The question was raised in a sufficiently definite form by the\nproposition from the prime minister for the establishment of a statutory\nbody sitting in Dublin with legislative powers. No difficulty was made\nabout the bare proposition itself. Every one seemed to go as far as that.\nIt needed to be tested, and tests were at once forthcoming. Mr. Trevelyan\ncould not assent to the control of the immediate machinery of law and\norder being withdrawn from direct British authority, among other reasons\nbecause it was this proposal that created the necessity for buying out the\nIrish landlords, which he regarded as raising a problem absolutely\ninsoluble.(193) Mr. Chamberlain raised four points. He objected to the\ncesser of Irish representation; he could not consent to the grant of full\nrights of taxation to Ireland; he resisted the surrender of the\nappointment of judges and magistrates; and he argued strongly against\nproceeding by enumeration of the things that an Irish government might not\ndo, instead of by a specific delegation of the things that it might\ndo.(194) That these four objections were not in themselves incapable of\naccommodation was shown by subsequent events. The second was very\nspeedily, and the first was ultimately allowed, while the fourth was held\nby good authority to be little more than a question of drafting. Even the\nthird was not a point either way on which to break up a government,\ndestroy a policy, and split a party. But everybody who is acquainted with\neither the great or the small conflicts of human history, knows how little\nthe mere terms of a principle or of an objection are to be trusted as a\nclue either to its practical significance, or (M110) to the design with\nwhich it is in reality advanced. The design here under all the four heads\nof objection, was the dwarfing of the legislative body, the cramping and\nconstriction of its organs, its reduction to something which the Irish\ncould not have even pretended to accept, and which they would have been no\nbetter than fools if they had ever attempted to work.\n\nSome supposed then, and Mr. Chamberlain has said since, that when he\nentered the cabinet room on this memorable occasion, he intended to be\nconciliatory. Witnesses of the scene thought that the prime minister made\nlittle attempt in that direction. Yet where two men of clear mind and firm\nwill mean two essentially different things under the same name, whether\nautonomy or anything else, and each intends to stand by his own\ninterpretation, it is childish to suppose that arts of deportment will\nsmother or attenuate fundamental divergence, or make people who are quite\naware how vitally they differ, pretend that they entirely agree. Mr.\nGladstone knew the giant burden that he had taken up, and when he went to\nthe cabinet of March 26, his mind was no doubt fixed that success, so\nhazardous at best, would be hopeless in face of personal antagonisms and\nbitterly divided counsels. This, in his view, and in his own phrase, was\none of the \"great imperial occasions\" that call for imperial resolves. The\ntwo ministers accordingly resigned.\n\nBesides these two important secessions, some ministers out of the cabinet\nresigned, but they were of the whig complexion.(195) The new prospect of\nthe whig schism extending into the camp of the extreme radicals created\nnatural alarm but hardly produced a panic. So deep were the roots of\nparty, so immense the authority of a veteran leader. It used to be said of\nthe administration of 1880, that the world would never really know Mr.\nGladstone's strength in parliament and the country, until every one of his\ncolleagues had in turn abandoned him to his own resources. Certainly the\nsecessions of the end of March 1886 left him undaunted. Every\nconsideration of duty and of policy bound him to persevere. He felt,\njustly enough, that a minister who had once deliberately invited his party\nand the people of the three kingdoms to follow him on so arduous and bold\na march as this, had no right on any common plea to turn back until he had\nexhausted every available device to \"bring the army of the faithful\nthrough.\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nFrom the first the Irish leader was in free and constant communication\nwith the chief secretary. Proposals were once or twice made, not I think\nat Mr. Parnell's desire, for conversations to be held between Mr.\nGladstone and himself, but they were always discouraged by Mr. Gladstone,\nwho was never fond of direct personal contentions, or conversations when\nthe purpose could be as well served otherwise, and he had a horror of what\nhe called multiplying channels of communication. \"For the moment,\" he\nreplied, \"I think we may look to Mr. M. alone, and rely on all he says for\naccuracy as well as fidelity. I have been hard at work, and to-day I mean\nto have a further and full talk with Mr. M., who will probably soon after\nwish for some renewed conversation with Mr. Parnell.\" Mr. Parnell showed\nhimself acute, frank, patient, closely attentive, and possessed of\nstriking though not rapid insight. He never slurred over difficulties, nor\ntried to pretend that rough was smooth. On the other hand, he had nothing\nin common with that desperate species of counsellor, who takes all the\nsmall points, and raises objections instead of helping to contrive\nexpedients. He measured the ground with a slow and careful eye, and fixed\ntenaciously on the thing that was essential at the moment. Of constructive\nfaculty he never showed a trace. He was a man of temperament, of will, of\nauthority, of power; not of ideas or ideals, or knowledge, or political\nmaxims, or even of the practical reason in any of its higher senses, as\nHamilton, Madison, and Jefferson had practical reason. But he knew what he\nwanted.\n\n(M111) He was always perfectly ready at this period to acquiesce in Irish\nexclusion from Westminster, on the ground that they would want all the\nbrains they had for their own parliament. At the same time he would have\nliked a provision for sending a delegation to Westminster on occasion,\nwith reference to some definite Irish questions such as might be expected\nto arise. As to the composition of the upper or protective order in the\nIrish parliament, he was wholly unfamiliar with the various utopian plans\nthat have been advanced for the protection of minorities, and he declared\nhimself tolerably indifferent whether the object should be sought in\nnomination by the crown, or through a special and narrower elective body,\nor by any other scheme. To such things he had given no thought. He was a\nparty chief, not a maker of constitutions. He liked the idea of both\norders sitting in one House. He made one significant suggestion: he wished\nthe bill to impose the same disqualification upon the clergy as exists in\nour own parliament. But he would have liked to see certain ecclesiastical\ndignitaries included by virtue of their office in the upper or protective\nbranch. All questions of this kind, however, interested him much less than\nfinance. Into financial issues he threw himself with extraordinary energy,\nand he fought for better terms with a keenness and tenacity that almost\nbaffled the mighty expert with whom he was matched. They only met once\nduring the weeks of the preparation of the bill, though the indirect\ncommunication was constant. Here is my scanty note of the meeting:--\n\n\n _April 5._--Mr. Parnell came to my room at the House at 8.30, and\n we talked for two hours. At 10.30 I went to Mr. Gladstone next\n door, and told him how things stood. He asked me to open the\n points of discussion, and into my room we went. He shook hands\n cordially with Mr. Parnell, and sat down between him and me. We at\n once got to work. P. extraordinarily close, tenacious, and sharp.\n It was all finance. At midnight, Mr. Gladstone rose in his chair\n and said, \"I fear I must go; I cannot sit as late as I used to\n do.\" \"Very clever, very clever,\" he muttered to me as I held open\n the door of his room for him. I returned to Parnell, who went on\n repeating his points in his impenetrable way, until the policeman\n mercifully came to say the House was up.\n\n\nMr. Gladstone's own note must also be transcribed:--\n\n\n _April 5._--Wrote to Lord Spencer. The Queen and ministers. Four\n hours on the matter for my speech. 1-1/2 hours with Welby and\n Hamilton on the figures. Saw Lord Spencer, Mr. Morley, Mr. A. M.\n H. of C., 5-8. Dined at Sir Thomas May's.\n\n 1-1/2 hours with Morley and Parnell on the root of the matter;\n rather too late for me, 10-1/2-12. A hard day. (_Diary._)\n\n\nOn more than one financial point the conflict went perilously near to\nbreaking down the whole operation. \"If we do not get a right budget,\" said\nMr. Parnell, \"all will go wrong from the very first hour.\" To the last he\nheld out that the just proportion of Irish contribution to the imperial\nfund was not one-fourteenth or one-fifteenth, but a twentieth or\ntwenty-first part. He insisted all the more strongly on his own more\nliberal fraction, as a partial compensation for their surrender of fiscal\nliberty and the right to impose customs duties. Even an hour or two before\nthe bill was actually to be unfolded to the House, he hurried to the Irish\noffice in what was for him rather an excited state, to make one more\nappeal to me for his fraction. It is not at all improbable that if the\nbill had gone forward into committee, it would have been at the eleventh\nhour rejected by the Irish on this department of it, and then all would\nhave been at an end. Mr. Parnell never concealed this danger ahead.\n\nIn the cabinet things went forward with such ups and downs as are usual\nwhen a difficult bill is on the anvil. In a project of this magnitude, it\nwas inevitable that some minister should occasionally let fall the\nconsecrated formula that if this or that were done or not done, he must\nreconsider his position. Financial arrangements, and the protection of the\nminority, were two of the knottiest points,--the first from the contention\nraised on the Irish side, the second from misgiving in some minds as to\nthe possibility of satisfying protestant sentiment in England and\nScotland. Some kept the colonial type more strongly in view than others,\nand the bill no doubt ultimately bore that cast.\n\n(M112) The draft project of surrendering complete taxing-power to the\nIrish legislative body was eventually abandoned. It was soon felt that the\nbare possibility of Ireland putting duties on British goods--and it was not\nmore than a bare possibility in view of Britain's position as practically\nIreland's only market--would have destroyed the bill in every manufacturing\nand commercial centre in the land. Mr. Parnell agreed to give up the\ncontrol of customs, and also to give up direct and continuous\nrepresentation at Westminster. On this cardinal point of the cesser of\nIrish representation, Mr. Gladstone to the last professed to keep an open\nmind, though to most of the cabinet, including especially three of its\noldest hands and coolest heads, exclusion was at this time almost vital.\nExclusion was favoured not only on its merits. Mr. Bright was known to\nregard it as large compensation for what otherwise he viewed as pure\nmischief, and it was expected to win support in other quarters generally\nhostile. So in truth it did, but at the cost of support in quarters that\nwere friendly. On April 30, Mr. Gladstone wrote to Lord Granville, \"I\nscarcely see how a cabinet could have been formed, if the inclusion of the\nIrish members had been insisted on; and now I do not see how the scheme\nand policy can be saved from shipwreck, if the exclusion is insisted on.\"\n\nThe plan was bound to be extensive, as its objects were extensive, and it\ntook for granted in the case of Ireland the fundamental probabilities of\ncivil society. He who looks with \"indolent and kingly gaze\" upon all\nprojects of written constitutions need not turn to the Appendix unless he\nwill. Two features of the plan were cardinal.\n\nThe foundation of the scheme was the establishment in Ireland of a\ndomestic legislature to deal with Irish as distinguished from imperial\naffairs. It followed from this that if Irish members and representative\npeers remained at Westminster at all, though they might claim a share in\nthe settlement of imperial affairs, they could not rightly control English\nor Scotch affairs. This was from the first, and has ever since remained,\nthe Gordian knot. The cabinet on a review of all the courses open\ndetermined to propose the plan of total exclusion, save and unless for the\npurpose of revising this organic statute.\n\nThe next question was neither so hard nor so vital. Ought the powers of\nthe Irish legislature to be specifically enumerated? Or was it better to\nenumerate the branches of legislation from which the statutory parliament\nwas to be shut out? Should we enact the things that they might do, or the\nthings that they might not do, leaving them the whole residue of\nlaw-making power outside of these exceptions and exclusions? The latter\nwas the plan adopted in the bill. Disabilities were specified, and\neverything not so specified was left within the scope of the Irish\nauthority. These disabilities comprehended all matters affecting the\ncrown. All questions of defence and armed force were shut out; all foreign\nand colonial relations; the law of trade and navigation, of coinage and\nlegal tender. The new legislature could not meddle with certain charters,\nnor with certain contracts, nor could it establish or endow any particular\nreligion.(196)\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nAmong his five spurious types of courage, Aristotle names for one the man\nwho seems to be brave, only because he does not see his danger. This, at\nleast, was not Mr. Gladstone's case. No one knew better than the leader in\nthe enterprise, how formidable were the difficulties that lay in his path.\nThe giant mass of secular English prejudice against Ireland frowned like a\nmountain chain across the track. A strong and proud nation had trained\nitself for long courses of time in habits of dislike for the history, the\npolitical claims, the religion, the temperament, of a weaker nation. The\nviolence of the Irish members in the last parliament, sporadic barbarities\nin some of the wilder portions of the island, the hideous murders in the\nPark, had all deepened and vivified the scowling impressions nursed by\nlarge bodies of Englishmen for many ages past about unfortunate Ireland.\nThen the practical operation of shaping an Irish constitution, whether on\ncolonial, federal, or any (M113) other lines, was in itself a task that,\neven if all external circumstance had been as smiling as it was in fact\nthe opposite, still abounded in every kind of knotty, intricate, and\nintractable matter.\n\nIt is true that elements could be discovered on the other side. First, was\nMr. Gladstone's own high place in the confidence of great masses of his\ncountrymen, the result of a lifetime of conspicuous service and\nachievement. Next, the lacerating struggle with Ireland ever since 1880,\nand the confusion into which it had brought our affairs, had bred\nsomething like despair in many minds, and they were ready to look in\nalmost any direction for relief from an intolerable burden. Third, the\ncontroversy had not gone very far before opponents were astounded to find\nthat the new policy, which they angrily scouted as half insanity and half\ntreason, gave comparatively little shock to the new democracy. This was at\nfirst imputed to mere ignorance and raw habits of political judgment.\nWider reflection might have warned them that the plain people of this\nisland, though quickly roused against even the shadow of concession when\nthe power or the greatness of their country is openly assailed, seem at\nthe same time ready to turn to moral claims of fair play, of conciliation,\nof pacific truce. With all these magnanimous sentiments the Irish case was\nonly too easily made to associate itself. The results of the Irish\nelections and the force of the constitutional demand sank deep in the\npopular mind. The grim spectre of Coercion as the other alternative wore\nits most repulsive look in the eyes of men, themselves but newly admitted\nto full citizenship. Rash experiment in politics has been defined as\nraising grave issues without grave cause. Nobody of any party denied in\nthis crisis the gravity of the cause.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VI. Introduction Of The Bill. (1886)\n\n\n Much have I seen and known; cities of men\n And manners, climates, councils, governments,\n Myself not least, but honour'd of them all....\n There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;\n There gloom the dark broad seas.\n --TENNYSON, _Ulysses_.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIt was not within the compass either of human effort or human endurance\neven for the most practised and skilful of orators to unfold the whole\nplan, both government and land, in a single speech. Nor was public\ninterest at all equally divided. Irish land had devoured an immense amount\nof parliamentary time in late years; it is one of the most technical and\nrepulsive of all political subjects; and to many of the warmest friends of\nIrish self-government, any special consideration for the owners of Irish\nland was bitterly unpalatable. Expectation was centred upon the plan for\ngeneral government. This was introduced on April 8. Here is the entry in\nthe little diary:--\n\n\n The message came to me this morning: \"Hold thou up my goings in\n thy path, that my footsteps slip not.\" Settled finally my figures\n with Welby and Hamilton; other points with Spencer and Morley.\n Reflected much. Took a short drive. H. of C., 4-1/2-8-1/4.\n Extraordinary scenes outside the House and in. My speech, which I\n have sometimes thought could never end, lasted nearly 3-1/2 hours.\n Voice and strength and freedom were granted to me in a degree\n beyond what I could have hoped. But many a prayer had gone up for\n me, and not I believe in vain.\n\n\nNo such scene had ever been beheld in the House of Commons. Members came\ndown at break of day to secure their places; before noon every seat was\nmarked, and (M114) crowded benches were even arrayed on the floor of the\nHouse from the mace to the bar. Princes, ambassadors, great peers, high\nprelates, thronged the lobbies. The fame of the orator, the boldness of\nhis exploit, curiosity as to the plan, poignant anxiety as to the party\nresult, wonder whether a wizard had at last actually arisen with a spell\nfor casting out the baleful spirits that had for so many ages made Ireland\nour torment and our dishonour, all these things brought together such an\nassemblage as no minister before had ever addressed within those\nworld-renowned walls. The parliament was new. Many of its members had\nfought a hard battle for their seats, and trusted they were safe in the\nhaven for half a dozen good years to come. Those who were moved by\nprofessional ambition, those whose object was social advancement, those\nwho thought only of upright public service, the keen party men, the men\nwho aspired to office, the men with a past and the men who looked for a\nfuture, all alike found themselves adrift on dark and troubled waters. The\nsecrets of the bill had been well kept. To-day the disquieted host were\nfirst to learn what was the great project to which they would have to say\nthat Aye or No on which for them and for the state so much would hang.\n\nOf the chief comrades or rivals of the minister's own generation, the\nstrong administrators, the eager and accomplished debaters, the sagacious\nleaders, the only survivor now comparable to him in eloquence or in\ninfluence was Mr. Bright. That illustrious man seldom came into the House\nin those distracted days; and on this memorable occasion his stern and\nnoble head was to be seen in dim obscurity. Various as were the emotions\nin other regions of the House, in one quarter rejoicing was unmixed.\nThere, at least, was no doubt and no misgiving. There pallid and tranquil\nsat the Irish leader, whose hard insight, whose patience, energy, and\nspirit of command, had achieved this astounding result, and done that\nwhich he had vowed to his countrymen that he would assuredly be able to\ndo. On the benches round him, genial excitement rose almost to tumult.\nWell it might. For the first time since the union, the Irish case was at\nlast to be pressed in all its force and strength, in every aspect of\npolicy and of conscience, by the most powerful Englishman then alive.\n\nMore striking than the audience was the man; more striking than the\nmultitude of eager onlookers from the shore was the rescuer with\ndeliberate valour facing the floods ready to wash him down; the veteran\nUlysses, who after more than half a century of combat, service, toil,\nthought it not too late to try a further \"work of noble note.\" In the\nhands of such a master of the instrument, the theme might easily have lent\nitself to one of those displays of exalted passion which the House had\nmarvelled at in more than one of Mr. Gladstone's speeches on the Turkish\nquestion, or heard with religious reverence in his speech on the\nAffirmation bill in 1883. What the occasion now required was that passion\nshould burn low, and reasoned persuasion hold up the guiding lamp. An\nelaborate scheme was to be unfolded, an unfamiliar policy to be explained\nand vindicated. Of that best kind of eloquence which dispenses with\ndeclamation, this was a fine and sustained example. There was a deep,\nrapid, steady, onflowing volume of argument, exposition, exhortation.\nEvery hard or bitter stroke was avoided. Now and again a fervid note\nthrilled the ear and lifted all hearts. But political oratory is action,\nnot words,--action, character, will, conviction, purpose, personality. As\nthis eager muster of men underwent the enchantment of periods exquisite in\ntheir balance and modulation, the compulsion of his flashing glance and\nanimated gesture, what stirred and commanded them was the recollection of\nnational service, the thought of the speaker's mastering purpose, his\nunflagging resolution and strenuous will, his strength of thew and sinew\nwell tried in long years of resounding war, his unquenched conviction that\nthe just cause can never fail. Few are the heroic moments in our\nparliamentary politics, but this was one.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe first reading of the bill was allowed to pass without a division. To\nthe second, Lord Hartington moved an (M115) amendment in the ordinary form\nof simple rejection.(197) His two speeches(198) present the case against\nthe policy and the bill in its most massive form. The direct and\nunsophisticated nature of his antagonism, backed by a personal character\nof uprightness and plain dealing beyond all suspicion, gave a momentum to\nhis attack that was beyond any effect of dialectics. It was noticed that\nhe had never during his thirty years of parliamentary life spoken with\nanything like the same power before. The debates on the two stages\noccupied sixteen nights. They were not unworthy of the gravity of the\nissue, nor of the fame of the House of Commons. Only one speaker held the\nmagic secret of Demosthenic oratory. Several others showed themselves\nmasters of the higher arts of parliamentary discussion. One or two\ntransient spurts of fire in the encounters of orange and green, served to\nreveal the intensity of the glow behind the closed doors of the furnace.\nBut the general temper was good. The rule against irritating language was\nhardly ever broken. Swords crossed according to the strict rules of\ncombat. The tone was rational and argumentative. There was plenty of\nstrong, close, and acute reasoning; there was some learning, a\nconsiderable acquaintance both with historic and contemporary, foreign and\ndomestic fact, and when fact and reasoning broke down, their place was\nabundantly filled by eloquent prophecy of disaster on one side, or\nblessing on the other. Neither prophecy was demonstrable; both could be\nmade plausible.\n\nDiscussion was adorned by copious references to the mighty shades who had\nbeen the glory of the House in a great parliamentary age. We heard again\nthe Virgilian hexameters in which Pitt had described the spirit of his\npolicy at the union:--\n\n\n \"Paribus se legibus ambae\n Invictae gentes aeterna in foedera mittant.\"\n\n\nWe heard once more how Grattan said that union of the legislatures was\nseverance of the nations; that the ocean forbade union, the channel\nforbade separation; that England in her government of Ireland had gone to\nhell for her principles and to bedlam for her discretion. There was, above\nall, a grand and copious anthology throughout the debate from Burke, the\ngreatest of Irishmen and the largest master of civil wisdom in our tongue.\n\nThe appearance of a certain measure of the common form of all debates was\ninevitable. No bill is ever brought in of which its opponents do not say\nthat it either goes too far, or else it does not go far enough; no bill of\nwhich its defenders do not say as to some crucial flaw pounced upon and\nparaded by the enemy, that after all it is a mere question of drafting, or\ncan be more appropriately discussed in committee. There was the usual\nevasion of the strong points of the adversary's case, the usual\nexaggeration of its weak ones. That is debating. Perorations ran in a\nmonotonous mould; integrity of the empire on one side, a real, happy, and\nindissoluble reconciliation between English and Irish on the other.\n\nOne side dwelt much on the recall of Lord Fitzwilliam in 1795, and the\nsqualid corruption of the union; the other, on the hopeless distraction\nleft by the rebellion of 1798, and the impotent confusion of the Irish\nparliament. One speaker enumerated Mr. Pitt's arguments for the union--the\nargument about the regency and about the commercial treaty, the argument\nabout foreign alliances and confederacies and the army, about free trade\nand catholic emancipation; he showed that under all these six heads the\nnew bill carefully respected and guarded the grounds taken by the minister\nof the union. He was bluntly answered by the exclamation that nobody cared\na straw about what Mr. Pitt said, or what Sir Ralph Abercromby said; what\nwe had to deal with were the facts of the case in the year 1886. You show\nyour mistrust of the Irish by inserting all these safeguards in the bill,\nsaid the opposition. No, replied ministers; the safeguards are to meet no\nmistrusts of ours, but those entertained or feigned by other people. You\nhad no mandate for home rule, said the opposition. Still less, ministers\nretorted, had you a mandate for coercion. (M116) Such a scheme as this,\nexclaimed the critics, with all its checks and counterchecks, its\ntruncated functions, its vetoes, exceptions, and reservations, is\ndegrading to Ireland, and every Irish patriot with a spark of spirit in\nhis bosom must feel it so. As if, retorted the defenders, there were no\ndegradation to a free people in suffering twenty years of your firm and\nresolute coercion. One side argued that the interests of Ireland and Great\nBritain were much too closely intertwined to permit a double legislature.\nThe other argued that this very interdependence was just what made an\nIrish legislature safe, because it was incredible that they should act as\nif they had no benefit to receive from us, and no injury to suffer from\ninjury inflicted upon us. Do you, asked some, blot out of your minds the\nbitter, incendiary, and rebellious speech of Irish members? But do you\nthen, the rejoinder followed, suppose that the language that came from\nmen's hearts when a boon was refused, is a clue to the sentiment in their\nhearts when the boon shall have been granted? Ministers were bombarded\nwith reproachful quotations from their old speeches. They answered the\nfire by taunts about the dropping of coercion, and the amazing manoeuvres\nof the autumn of 1885. The device of the two orders was denounced as\ninconsistent with the democratic tendencies of the age. A very impressive\nargument forsooth from you, was the reply, who are either stout defenders\nof the House of Lords as it is, or else stout advocates for some of the\nmultifarious schemes for mixing hereditary peers with fossil officials,\nall of them equally alien to the democratic tendencies whether of this age\nor any other. So, with stroke and counter-stroke, was the ball kept\nflying.\n\nMuch was made of foreign and colonial analogies; of the union between\nAustria and Hungary, Norway and Sweden, Denmark and Iceland; how in\nforcing legislative union on North America we lost the colonies; how the\nunion of legislatures ended in the severance of Holland from Belgium. All\nthis carried little conviction. Most members of parliament like to think\nwith pretty large blinkers on, and though it may make for narrowness, this\nis consistent with much practical wisdom. Historical parallels in the\nactual politics of the day are usually rather decorative than substantial.\n\nIf people disbelieve premisses, nothing can be easier than to ridicule\nconclusions; and what happened now was that critics argued against this or\nthat contrivance in the machinery, because they insisted that no machinery\nwas needed at all, and that no contrivance could ever be made to work,\nbecause the Irish mechanicians would infallibly devote all their\ninfatuated energy and perverse skill, not to work it, but to break it in\npieces. The Irish, in Mr. Gladstone's ironical paraphrase of these\nsingular opinions, had a double dose of original sin; they belonged wholly\nto the kingdoms of darkness, and therefore the rules of that probability\nwhich wise men have made the guide of life can have no bearing in any case\nof theirs. A more serious way of stating the fundamental objection with\nwhich Mr. Gladstone had to deal was this. Popular government is at the\nbest difficult to work. It is supremely difficult to work in a statutory\nscheme with limits, reservations, and restrictions lurking round every\ncorner. Finally, owing to history and circumstance, no people in all the\nworld is less fitted to try a supremely difficult experiment in government\nthan the people who live in Ireland. Your superstructure, they said, is\nenormously heavy, yet you are going to raise it on foundations that are a\nquaking bog of incapacity and discontent. This may have been a good answer\nto the policy of the bill. But to criticise its provisions from such a\npoint of view was as inevitably unfruitful as it would be to set a\nhardened agnostic to revise the Thirty-nine articles or the mystic theses\nof the Athanasian creed.\n\nOn the first reading, Mr. Chamberlain astounded allies and opponents alike\nby suddenly revealing his view, that the true solution of the question was\nto be sought in some form of federation. It was upon the line of\nfederation, and not upon the pattern of the self-governing colonies, that\nwe should find a way out of the difficulty.(199) Men could hardly trust\ntheir ears. On the second reading, he startled us once more by declaring\nthat he was perfectly prepared, the very (M117) next day if we pleased, to\nestablish between this country and Ireland the relations subsisting\nbetween the provincial legislatures and the dominion parliament of\nCanada.(200) As to the first proposal, anybody could see that federation\nwas a vastly more revolutionary operation than the delegation of certain\nlegislative powers to a local parliament. Moreover before federating an\nIrish legislature, you must first create it. As to the second proposal,\nanybody could see on turning for a quarter of an hour to the Dominion Act\nof 1867, that in some of the particulars deemed by Mr. Chamberlain to be\nspecially important, a provincial legislature in the Canadian system had\nmore unfettered powers than the Irish legislature would have under the\nbill. Finally, he urged that inquiry into the possibility of satisfying\nthe Irish demand should be carried on by a committee or commission\nrepresenting all sections of the House.(201) In face of projects so\nstrangely fashioned as this, Mr. Gladstone had a right to declare that\njust as the subject held the field in the public mind--for never before had\nbeen seen such signs of public absorption in the House and out of the\nHouse--so the ministerial plan held the field in parliament. It had many\nenemies, but it had not a single serious rival.\n\nThe debate on the second reading had hardly begun when Lord Salisbury\nplaced in the hands of his adversaries a weapon with which they took care\nto do much execution. Ireland, he declared, is not one nation, but two\nnations. There were races like the Hottentots, and even the Hindoos,\nincapable of self-government. He would not place confidence in people who\nhad acquired the habit of using knives and slugs. His policy was that\nparliament should enable the government of England to govern Ireland.\n\"Apply that recipe honestly, consistently, and resolutely for twenty\nyears, and at the end of that time you will find that Ireland will be fit\nto accept any gifts in the way of local government or repeal of coercion\nlaws that you may wish to give her.\"(202) In the same genial vein, Lord\nSalisbury told his Hottentot fellow-citizens--one of the two _invictae\ngentes_ of Mr. Pitt's famous quotation--that if some great store of\nimperial treasure were going to be expended on Ireland, instead of buying\nout landlords, it would be far more usefully employed in providing for the\nemigration of a million Irishmen. Explanations followed this inconvenient\ncandour, but explanations are apt to be clumsy, and the pungency of the\nindiscretion kept it long alive. A humdrum speaker, who was able to\ncontribute nothing better to the animation of debate, could always by\ninsinuating a reference to Hottentots, knives and slugs, the deportation\nof a million Irishmen, and twenty years of continuous coercion, make sure\nof a roar of angry protest from his opponents, followed by a lusty\ncounter-volley from his friends.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nThe reception of the bill by the organs of Irish opinion was easy to\nforetell. The nationalists accepted it in sober and rational language,\nsubject to amendments on the head of finance and the constabulary clauses.\nThe tories said it was a bill for setting up an Irish republic. It is\nanother selfish English plan, said the moderates. Some Irishmen who had\nplayed with home rule while it was a phrase, drew back when they saw it in\na bill. Others, while holding to home rule, objected to being reduced to\nthe status of colonists. The body of home rulers who were protestant was\nsmall, and even against them it was retorted that for every protestant\nnationalist there were ten catholic unionists. The Fenian organs across\nthe Atlantic, while quarrelling with such provisions as the two orders,\n\"one of which would be Irish and the other English,\" did justice to the\nbravery of the attempt, and to the new moral forces which it would call\nout. The florid violence which the Fenians abandoned was now with proper\nvariations adopted by Orangemen in the north. The General Assembly of the\npresbyterian church in Ireland passed strong resolutions against a\nparliament, in favour of a peasant proprietary, in favour of loyalty, and\nof coercion. A few days later the general synod of the protestant\nepiscopal church followed suit, and denounced a parliament. The Orange\nprint in Belfast drew up a Solemn League and Covenant for Ulster, to\nignore and resist an Irish national government. Unionist prints in Dublin\ndeclared and indignantly repelled \"the selfish English design to get rid\nof the Irish nuisance from Westminster, and reduce us to the position of a\ntributary dependency.\"(203)\n\nThe pivot of the whole policy was the acceptance of the bill by the\nrepresentatives of Ireland. On the evening when the bill was produced, Mr.\nParnell made certain complaints as to the reservation of the control of\nthe constabulary, as to the power of the first order to effect a deadlock,\nand as to finance. He explicitly and publicly warned the government from\nthe first that, when the committee stage was reached, he would claim a\nlarge decrease in the fraction named for the imperial contribution. There\nwas never any dissembling as to this. In private discussion, he had always\nheld that the fair proportion of Irish contribution to imperial charges\nwas not a fifteenth but a twentieth, and he said no more in the House than\nhe had persistently said in the Irish secretary's room. There too he had\nurged what he also declared in the House: that he had always insisted that\ndue representation should be given to the minority; that he should welcome\nany device for preventing ill-considered legislation, but that the\nprovision in the bill, for the veto of the first order, would lead to\nprolonged obstruction and delay. Subject to modification on these three\nheads, he accepted the bill. \"I am convinced,\" he said in concluding,\n\"that if our views are fairly met in committee regarding the defects to\nwhich I have briefly alluded,--the bill will be cheerfully accepted by the\nIrish people, and by their representatives, as a solution of the\nlong-standing dispute between the two countries.\"(204)\n\nIt transpired at a later date that just before the introduction of the\nbill, when Mr. Parnell had been made acquainted with its main proposals,\nhe called a meeting of eight of his leading colleagues, told them what\nthese proposals were, and asked them whether they would take the bill or\nleave it.(205) Some began to object to the absence of certain provisions,\nsuch as the immediate control of the constabulary, and the right over\nduties of customs. Mr. Parnell rose from the table, and clenched the\ndiscussion by informing them that if they declined the bill, the\ngovernment would go. They at once agreed \"to accept it _pro tanto_,\nreserving for committee the right of enforcing and, if necessary,\nreconsidering their position with regard to these important questions.\"\nThis is neither more nor less than the form in which Mr. Parnell made his\ndeclaration in parliament. There was complete consistency between the\nterms of this declaration, and the terms of acceptance agreed to by his\ncolleagues, as disclosed in the black days of December four years later.\nThe charge of bad faith and hypocrisy so freely made against the Irishmen\nis wholly unwarranted by a single word in these proceedings. If the whole\ntransaction had been known to the House of Commons, it could not have\nimpaired by one jot or tittle the value set by the supporters of the bill\non the assurances of the Irishmen that, in principle and subject to\nmodification on points named, they accepted the bill as a settlement of\nthe question, and would use their best endeavours to make it work.(206)\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII. The Political Atmosphere. Defeat Of The Bill. (1886)\n\n\n Everything on every side was full of traps and mines.... It was in\n the midst of this chaos of plots and counterplots ... that the\n firmness of that noble person [Lord Rockingham] was put to the\n proof. He never stirred from his ground; no, not an inch.--BURKE\n (1766).\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThe atmosphere in London became thick and hot with political passion.\nVeteran observers declared that our generation had not seen anything like\nit. Distinguished men of letters and, as it oddly happened, men who had\nwon some distinction either by denouncing the legislative union, or by\ninsisting on a decentralisation that should satisfy Irish national\naspirations, now choked with anger because they were taken at their word.\nJust like irascible scholars of old time who settled controversies about\ncorrupt texts by imputing to rival grammarians shameful crimes, so these\nwriters could find no other explanation for an opinion that was not their\nown about Irish government, except moral turpitude and personal\ndegradation. One professor of urbanity compared Mr. Gladstone to a\ndesperate pirate burning his ship, or a gambler doubling and trebling his\nstake as luck goes against him. Such strange violence in calm natures,\nsuch pharisaic pretension in a world where we are all fallen, remains a\nriddle. Political differences were turned into social proscription. Whigs\nwho could not accept the new policy were specially furious with whigs who\ncould. Great ladies purified their lists of the names of old intimates.\nAmiable magnates excluded from their dinner-tables and their country\nhouses once familiar friends who had fallen into the guilty heresy, and\neven harmless portraits of the heresiarch were sternly removed from the\nwalls. At some of the political clubs it rained blackballs. It was a\npainful demonstration how thin after all is our social veneer, even when\nmost highly polished.\n\nWhen a royal birthday was drawing near, the prime minister wrote to Lord\nGranville, his unfailing counsellor in every difficulty political and\nsocial: \"I am becoming seriously perplexed about my birthday dinner.\nHardly any peers of the higher ranks will be available, and not many of\nthe lower. Will the seceding colleagues come if they are asked? (Argyll,\nto whom I applied privately on the score of old friendship, has already\n_refused_ me.) I am for asking them; but I expect refusal. Lastly, it has\nbecome customary for the Prince of Wales to dine with me on that day, and\nhe brings his eldest son now that the young Prince is of age. But his\nposition would be very awkward, if he comes and witnesses a great\nnakedness of the land. What do you say to all this? If you cannot help me,\nwho can?\" Most of the seceding colleagues accepted, and the dinner came\noff well enough, though as the host wrote to a friend beforehand, \"If\nHartington were to get up and move a vote of want of confidence after\ndinner, he would almost carry it.\" The Prince was unable to be present,\nand so the great nakedness was by him unseen, but Prince Albert Victor,\nwho was there instead, is described by Mr. Gladstone as \"most kind.\"\n\nThe conversion of Peel to free trade forty years before had led to the\nsame species of explosion, though Peel had the court strongly with him.\nBoth then and now it was the case of a feud within the bosom of a party,\nand such feuds like civil wars have ever been the fiercest. In each case\nthere was a sense of betrayal--at least as unreasonable in 1886 as it was\nin 1846. The provinces somehow took things more rationally than the\nmetropolis. Those who were stunned by the fierce moans of London over the\nassured decline in national honour and credit, the imminence of civil war,\nand the ultimate destruction of British power, found their acquaintances\nin the country excited and interested, but still clothed and in their\nright minds. The gravity of the question was fully understood, but in\ntaking sides ordinary (M118) men did not talk as if they were in for the\nbattle of Armageddon. The attempt to kindle the torch of religious fear or\nhate was in Great Britain happily a failure. The mass of liberal\npresbyterians in Scotland, and of nonconformists in England and Wales,\nstood firm, though some of their most eminent and able divines resisted\nthe new project, less on religious grounds than on what they took to be\nthe balance of political arguments. Mr. Gladstone was able to point to the\nconclusive assurances he had received that the kindred peoples in the\ncolonies and America regarded with warm and fraternal sympathy the present\neffort to settle the long-vexed and troubled relations between Great\nBritain and Ireland:--\n\n\n We must not be discouraged if at home and particularly in the\n upper ranks of society, we hear a variety of discordant notes,\n notes alike discordant from our policy and from one another. You\n have before you a cabinet determined in its purpose and an\n intelligible plan. I own I see very little else in the political\n arena that is determined or that is intelligible.\n\n\nInside the House subterranean activity was at its height all through the\nmonth of May. This was the critical period. The regular opposition spoke\nlittle and did little; with composed interest they watched others do their\nwork. On the ministerial side men wavered and changed and changed again,\nfrom day to day and almost from hour to hour. Never were the motions of\nthe pendulum so agitated and so irregular. So novel and complex a problem\nwas a terrible burden for a new parliament. About half its members had not\nsat in any parliament before. The whips were new, some of the leaders on\nthe front benches were new, and those of them who were most in earnest\nabout the policy were too heavily engrossed in the business of the\nmeasure, to have much time for the exercises of explanation, argument, and\npersuasion with their adherents. One circumstance told powerfully for\nministers. The great central organisation of the liberal party came\ndecisively over to Mr. Gladstone (May 5), and was followed by nearly all\nthe local associations in the country. Neither whig secession nor radical\ndubitation shook the strength inherent in such machinery, in a community\nwhere the principle of government by party has solidly established itself.\nThis was almost the single consolidating and steadying element in that\nhour of dispersion. A serious move in the opposite direction had taken\nplace three weeks earlier. A great meeting was held at the Opera House, in\nthe Haymarket, presided over by the accomplished whig nobleman who had the\nmisfortune to be Irish viceroy in the two dismal years from 1880, and it\nwas attended both by Lord Salisbury on one side and Lord Hartington on the\nother. This was the first broad public mark of liberal secession, and of\nthat practical fusion between whig and tory which the new Irish policy had\nactually precipitated, but to which all the signs in the political heavens\nhad been for three or four years unmistakably pointing.\n\nThe strength of the friends of the bill was twofold: first, it lay in the\ndislike of coercion as the only visible alternative; and second, it lay in\nthe hope of at last touching the firm ground of a final settlement with\nIreland. Their weakness was also twofold: first, misgivings about the\nexclusion of the Irish members; and second, repugnance to the scheme for\nland purchase. There were not a few, indeed, who pronounced the exclusion\nof Irish members to be the most sensible part of the plan. Mr. Gladstone\nretained his impartiality, but knew that if we proposed to keep the\nIrishmen, we should be run in upon quite as fiercely from the other side.\nMr. Parnell stood to his original position. Any regular and compulsory\nattendance at Westminster, he said, would be highly objectionable to his\nfriends. Further, the right of Irish members to take part in purely\nEnglish as well as imperial business would be seized upon by English\npoliticians, whenever it should answer their purpose, as a pretext for\ninterfering in Irish affairs. In short, he foresaw, as all did, the\ndifficulties that would inevitably arise from retention. But the tide ran\nmore and more strongly the other way. Scotland grew rather restive at a\nproposal which, as she apprehended, would make a precedent for herself\nwhen her turn for extension of local powers should come, and Scotchmen had\nno intention of being shut out (M119) from a voice in imperial affairs. In\nEngland, the catholics professed alarm at the prospect of losing the only\ncatholic force in the House of Commons. \"We cannot spare one of you,\"\ncried Cardinal Manning. Some partisans of imperial federation took it into\ntheir heads that the plan for Ireland would be fatal to a plan for the\nwhole empire, though others more rationally conceived that if there was to\nbe a scheme for the empire, schemes for its several parts must come first.\nSome sages, while pretending infinite friendship to home rule, insisted\nthat the parliament at Westminster should retain a direct and active veto\nupon legislation at Dublin, and that Irish members should remain as they\nwere in London. That is to say, every precaution should be taken to ensure\na stiff fight at Westminster over every Irish measure of any importance\nthat had already been fought on College Green. Speaking generally, the\nfeeling against this provision was due less to the anomaly of taxation\nwithout representation, than to fears for the unity of the empire and the\nsupremacy of parliament.\n\nThe Purchase bill proved from the first to be an almost intolerable dose.\nVivid pictures were drawn of a train of railway trucks two miles long,\nloaded with millions of bright sovereigns, all travelling from the pocket\nof the British son of toil to the pocket of the idle Irish landlord. The\nnationalists from the first urged that the scheme for home rule should not\nbe weighted with a land scheme, though they were willing to accept it so\nlong as it was not used to prejudice the larger demand. On the other side\nthe Irish landlords themselves peremptorily rejected the plan that had\nbeen devised for their protection.\n\nThe air was thick with suggestions, devices, contrivances, expedients,\npossible or madly impossible. Proposals or embryonic notions of proposals\nfloated like motes in a sunbeam. Those to whom lobby diplomacy is as the\nbreath of their nostrils, were in their element. So were the worthy\npersons who are always ready with ingenious schemes for catching a vote or\ntwo here, at the cost of twenty votes elsewhere. Intrigue may be too dark\na word, but coaxing, bullying, managing, and all the other arts of party\nemergency, went on at an unprecedented rate. Of these arts, the\nsupervising angels will hardly record that any section had a monopoly. The\nlegerdemain that makes words pass for things, and liquefies things into\nwords, achieved many flashes of success. But they were only momentary, and\nthe solid obstacles remained. The foundations of human character are much\nthe same in all historic ages, and every public crisis brings out the same\ntypes.\n\nMuch depended on Mr. Bright, the great citizen and noble orator, who had\nin the last five-and-forty years fought and helped to win more than one\nbattle for wise and just government; whose constancy had confronted storms\nof public obloquy without yielding an inch of his ground; whose eye for\nthe highest questions of state had proved itself singularly sure; and\nwhose simplicity, love of right, and unsophisticated purity of public and\nprivate conduct, commanded the trust and the reverence of nearly all the\nbetter part of his countrymen. To Mr. Bright the eyes of many thousands\nwere turned in these weeks of anxiety and doubt. He had in public kept\nsilence, though in private he made little secret of his disapproval of the\nnew policy. Before the bill was produced he had a prolonged conversation\n(March 20) with Mr. Gladstone at Downing Street. \"Long and weighty\" are\nthe words in the diary. The minister sketched his general design, Mr.\nBright stated his objections much in the form in which, as we shall see,\nhe stated them later. Of the exclusion of the Irish members he approved.\nThe Land bill he thought quite wrong, for why should so enormous an effort\nbe made for one interest only? He expressed his sympathy with Mr.\nGladstone in his great difficulties, could not but admire his ardour, and\ncame away with the expectation that the obstacles would be found\ninvincible, and that the minister would retire and leave others to\napproach the task on other lines. Other important persons, it may be\nobserved, derived at this time a similar impression from Mr. Gladstone's\nlanguage to them: that he might discern the impossibility of his policy,\nthat he would admit it, and would then hand the responsibility over to\nLord Hartington, or whoever else might be willing to face it.\n\n(M120) On the other hand, Mr. Bright left the minister himself not without\nhopes that as things went forward he might count on this potent auxiliary.\nSo late as the middle of May, though he could not support, it was not\ncertain that he would actively oppose. The following letter to Mr.\nGladstone best describes his attitude at this time:--\n\n\n _Mr. Bright to Mr. Gladstone._\n _Rochdale, May 13th, 1886._\n\n MY DEAR GLADSTONE,--Your note just received has put me in a great\n difficulty. To-day is the anniversary of the greatest sorrow of my\n life, and I feel pressed to spend it at home. I sent a message to\n Mr. Arnold Morley last evening to say that I did not intend to\n return to town before Monday next--but I shall now arrange to go\n to-morrow--although I do not see how I can be of service in the\n great trouble which has arisen.\n\n I feel outside all the contending sections of the liberal\n party--for I am not in favour of home rule, or the creation of a\n Dublin parliament--nor can I believe in any scheme of federation as\n shadowed forth by Mr. Chamberlain.\n\n I do not believe that with regard to the Irish question \"the\n resources of civilisation are exhausted\"; and I think the plan of\n your bill is full of complexity, and gives no hope of successful\n working in Ireland or of harmony between Westminster and Dublin. I\n may say that my regard for you and my sympathy with you have made\n me silent in the discussion on the bills before the House. I\n cannot consent to a measure which is so offensive to the whole\n protestant population of Ireland, and to the whole sentiment of\n the province of Ulster so far as its loyal and protestant people\n are concerned. I cannot agree to exclude them from the protection\n of the imperial parliament. I would do much to clear the rebel\n party from Westminster, and I do not sympathise with those who\n wish to retain them, but admit there is much force in the\n arguments on this point which are opposed to my views upon it.\n\n Up to this time I have not been able to bring myself to the point\n of giving a vote in favour of your bills. I am grieved to have to\n say this. As to the Land bill, if it comes to a second reading, I\n fear I must vote against it. It may be that my hostility to the\n rebel party, looking at their conduct since your government was\n formed six years ago, disables me from taking an impartial view of\n this great question. If I could believe them loyal, if they were\n honourable and truthful men, I could yield them much; but I\n suspect that your policy of surrender to them will only place more\n power in their hands, to war with greater effect against the unity\n of the three kingdoms with no increase of good to the Irish\n people.\n\n How then can I be of service to you or to the real interests of\n Ireland if I come up to town? I cannot venture to advise you, so\n superior to me in party tactics and in experienced statesmanship,\n and I am not so much in accord with Mr. Chamberlain as to make it\n likely that I can say anything that will affect his course. One\n thing I may remark, that it appears to me that measures of the\n gravity of those now before parliament cannot and ought not to be\n thrust through the House by force of a small majority. The various\n reform bills, the Irish church bill, the two great land bills,\n were passed by very large majorities. In the present case, not\n only the whole tory party oppose, but a very important section of\n the liberal party; and although numerous meetings of clubs and\n associations have passed resolutions of confidence in you, yet\n generally they have accepted your Irish government bill as a\n 'basis' only, and have admitted the need of important changes in\n the bill--changes which in reality would destroy the bill. Under\n these circumstances it seems to me that more time should be given\n for the consideration of the Irish question. Parliament is not\n ready for it, and the intelligence of the country is not ready for\n it. If it be possible, I should wish that no division should be\n taken upon the bill. If the second reading should be carried only\n by a _small_ majority, it would not forward the bill; but it would\n strengthen the rebel party in their future agitation, and make it\n more difficult for another session or another parliament to deal\n with the question with some sense of independence of that party.\n In any case of a division, it is I suppose certain that a\n considerable majority of British members will oppose the bill.\n Thus, whilst it will have the support of the rebel members, it\n will be opposed by a majority from Great Britain and by a most\n hostile vote from all that is loyal in Ireland. The result will\n be, if a majority supports you it will be one composed in effect\n of the men who for six years past have insulted the Queen, have\n torn down the national flag, have declared your lord lieutenant\n guilty of deliberate murder, and have made the imperial parliament\n an assembly totally unable to manage the legislative business for\n which it annually assembles at Westminster.\n\n Pray forgive me for writing this long letter. I need not assure\n you of my sympathy with you, or my sorrow at being unable to\n support your present policy in the House or the country. The more\n I consider the question, the more I am forced in a direction\n contrary to my wishes.\n\n For thirty years I have preached justice to Ireland. I am as much\n in her favour now as in past times, but I do not think it justice\n or wisdom for Great Britain to consign her population, including\n Ulster and all her protestant families, to what there is of\n justice and wisdom in the Irish party now sitting in the\n parliament in Westminster.\n\n Still, if you think I can be of service, a note to the Reform Club\n will, I hope, find me there to-morrow evening.--Ever most sincerely\n yours, JOHN BRIGHT.\n\n\nAn old parliamentary friend, of great weight and authority, went to Mr.\nBright to urge him to support a proposal to read the bill a second time,\nand then to hang it up for six months. Bright suffered sore travail of\nspirit. At the end of an hour the peacemaker rose to depart. Bright\npressed him to continue the wrestle. After three-quarters of an hour more\nof it, the same performance took place. It was not until a third hour of\ndiscussion that Mr. Bright would let it come to an end, and at the end he\nwas still uncertain. The next day the friend met him, looking worn and\ngloomy. \"You may guess,\" Mr. Bright said, \"what sort of a night I have\nhad.\" He had decided to vote against the second reading. The same person\nwent to Lord Hartington. He took time to deliberate, and then finally\nsaid, \"No; Mr. Gladstone and I do not mean the same thing.\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe centre of interest lay in the course that might be finally taken by\nthose who declared that they accepted the principle of the bill, but\ndemurred upon detail. It was upon the group led from Birmingham that the\nissue hung. \"There are two principles in the bill,\" said Mr. Chamberlain\nat this time, \"which I regard as vital. The first is the principle of\nautonomy, to which I am able to give a hearty assent. The second is\ninvolved in the method of giving effect to this autonomy. In the bill the\ngovernment have proceeded on the lines of separation or of colonial\nindependence, whereas, in my humble judgment, they should have adopted the\nprinciple of federation as the only one in accordance with democratic\naspirations and experience.\"(207) He was even so strong for autonomy, that\nhe was ready to face all the immense difficulties of federation, whether\non the Canadian or some other pattern, rather than lose autonomy. Yet he\nwas ready to slay the bill that made autonomy possible. To kill the bill\nwas to kill autonomy. To say that they would go to the country on the\nplan, and not on the principle, was idle. If the election were to go\nagainst the government, that would destroy not only the plan which they\ndisliked, but the principle of which they declared that they warmly\napproved. The new government that would in that case come into existence,\nwould certainly have nothing to say either to plan or principle.\n\nTwo things, said Mr. Chamberlain on the ninth night of the debate, had\nbecome clear during the controversy. One was that the British democracy\nhad a passionate devotion to the prime minister. The other was the display\nof a sentiment out of doors, \"the universality and completeness of which,\nI dare say, has taken many of us by surprise, in favour of some form of\nhome rule to Ireland, which will give to the Irish people some greater\ncontrol over their own affairs.\"(208) It did not need so acute a\nstrategist as Mr. Chamberlain to perceive that the only hope of rallying\nany (M121) considerable portion of the left wing of the party to the\ndissentient flag, in face of this strong popular sentiment embodied in a\nsupereminent minister, was to avoid as much as possible all irreconcilable\nlanguage against either the minister or the sentiment, even while taking\nenergetic steps to unhorse the one and to nullify the other.\n\nThe prime minister meanwhile fought the battle as a battle for a high\npublic design once begun should be fought. He took few secondary\narguments, but laboured only to hold up to men's imagination, and to burn\ninto their understanding, the lines of central policy, the shame and\ndishonour from which it would relieve us, the new life with which it would\ninspire Ireland, the ease that it would bring to parliament in England.\nHis tenacity, his force and resource, were inexhaustible. He was harassed\non every side. The Irish leader pressed him hard upon finance. Old\nadherents urged concession about exclusion. The radicals disliked the two\norders. Minor points for consideration in committee rained in upon him, as\nbeing good reasons for altering the bill before it came in sight of\ncommittee. Not a single constructive proposal made any way in the course\nof the debate. All was critical and negative. Mr. Gladstone's grasp was\nunshaken, and though he saw remote bearings and interdependent\nconsequences where others supposed all to be plain sailing, yet if the\nprinciple were only saved he professed infinite pliancy. He protested that\nthere ought to be no stereotyping of our minds against modifications, and\nthat the widest possible variety of modes of action should be kept open;\nand he \"hammered hard at his head,\" as he put it, to see what could be\nworked out in the way of admitting Irish members without danger, and\nwithout intolerable inconvenience. If anybody considered, he continued to\nrepeat in endless forms, that there was another set of provisions by which\nbetter and fuller effect could be given to the principle of the bill, they\nwere free to displace all the particulars that hindered this better and\nfuller effect being given to the principle.(209)\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAt the beginning of May the unionist computation was that 119 on the\nministerial side of the House had, with or without qualification, promised\nto vote against the second reading. Of these, 70 had publicly committed\nthemselves, and 23 more were supposed to be absolutely certain. If the\nwhole House voted, this estimate of 93 would give a majority of 17 against\nthe bill.(210) The leader of the radical wing, however, reckoned that 55\nout of the 119 would vote with him for the second reading, if he\npronounced the ministerial amendments of the bill satisfactory. The\namendments demanded were the retention of the Irish members, a definite\ndeclaration of the supremacy of the imperial parliament, a separate\nassembly for Ulster, and the abolition of the restrictive devices for the\nrepresentation of minorities. Less than all this might have been taken in\ncommittee, provided that the government would expressly say before the\nsecond reading, that they would retain the Irish representation on its\nexisting footing. The repeated offer by ministers to regard this as an\nopen question was derided, because it was contended that if the bill were\nonce safe through its second reading, Mr. Bright and the whigs would\nprobably vote with ministers against Irish inclusion.\n\nEven if this ultimatum had been accepted, there would still have remained\nthe difficulty of the Land bill, of which Mr. Chamberlain had announced\nthat he would move the rejection. In the face of ever-growing\nembarrassments and importunities, recourse was had to the usual device of\na meeting of the party at the foreign office (May 27). The circular\ncalling the meeting was addressed to those liberals who, while retaining\nfull freedom on all particulars in the bill, were \"in favour of the\nestablishment of a legislative body in Dublin for the management of\naffairs specifically and exclusively Irish.\" This was henceforth to be the\ntest of party membership. A man who was for an Irish legislative body was\nexpected to come to the party meeting, and a man who was against it was\nexpected to stay (M122) away. Many thought this discrimination a mistake.\nSome two hundred and twenty members attended. The pith of the prime\nminister's speech, which lasted for an hour, came to this: that the\ngovernment would not consent to emasculate the principle of the bill, or\nturn it into a mockery, a delusion, and a snare; that members who did not\nwholly agree with the bill, might still in accordance with the strict\nspirit of parliamentary rules vote for the second reading with a view to\nits amendment in committee; that such a vote would not involve support of\nthe Land bill; that he was ready to consider any plan for the retention of\nthe Irish members, provided that it did not interfere with the liberty of\nthe Irish legislative body, and would not introduce confusion into the\nimperial parliament. Finally, as to procedure--and here his anxious\naudience fell almost breathless--they could either after a second reading\nhang up the bill, and defer committee until the autumn; or they could wind\nup the session, prorogue, and introduce the bill afresh with the proper\namendments in October. The cabinet, he told them, inclined to the later\ncourse.\n\nBefore the meeting Mr. Parnell had done his best to impress upon ministers\nthe mischievous effect that would be produced on Irish members and in\nIreland, by any promise to withdraw the bill after the second reading. On\nthe previous evening, I received from him a letter of unusual length. \"You\nof course,\" he said, \"are the best judges of what the result may be in\nEngland, but if it be permitted me to express an opinion, I should say\nthat withdrawal could scarcely fail to give great encouragement to those\nwhom it cannot conciliate, to depress and discourage those who are now the\nstrongest fighters for the measure, to produce doubt and wonder in the\ncountry and to cool enthusiasm; and finally, when the same bill is again\nproduced in the autumn, to disappoint and cause reaction among those who\nmay have been temporarily disarmed by withdrawal, and to make them at once\nmore hostile and less easy to appease.\" This letter I carried to Mr.\nGladstone the next morning, and read aloud to him a few minutes before he\nwas to cross over to the foreign office. For a single instant--the only\noccasion that I can recall during all these severe weeks--his patience\nbroke. The recovery was as rapid as the flash, for he knew the duty of the\nlieutenant of the watch to report the signs of rock or shoal. He was quite\nas conscious of all that was urged in Mr. Parnell's letter as was its\nwriter, but perception of risks on one side did not overcome risks on the\nother. The same evening they met for a second time:--\n\n\n _May 27._--... Mr. Gladstone and Parnell had a conversation in my\n room. Parnell courteous enough, but depressed and gloomy. Mr.\n Gladstone worn and fagged.... When he was gone, Parnell repeated\n moodily that he might not be able to vote for the second reading,\n if it were understood that after the second reading the bill was\n to be withdrawn. \"Very well,\" said I, \"that will of course destroy\n the government and the policy; but be that as it may, the cabinet,\n I am positive, won't change their line.\"\n\n\nThe proceedings at the foreign office brought to the supporters of\ngovernment a lively sense of relief. In the course of the evening a score\nof the waverers were found to have been satisfied, and were struck off the\ndissentient lists. But the relief did not last for many hours. The\nopposition instantly challenged ministers (May 28) to say plainly which of\nthe two courses they intended to adopt. Though short, this was the most\nvivacious debate of all. Was the bill to be withdrawn, or was it to be\npostponed? If it was to be withdrawn, then, argued the tory leader (Sir\nM.H. Beach) in angry tones, the vote on the second reading would be a\nfarce. If it was to be postponed, what was that but to paralyse the forces\nof law and order in Ireland in the meantime? Such things were trifling\nwith parliament, trifling with a vital constitutional question, and\ntrifling with the social order which the government professed to be so\nanxious to restore. A bill read a second time on such terms as these would\nbe neither more nor less than a Continuance-in-Office bill.\n\nThis biting sally raised the temper of the House on both sides, and Mr.\nGladstone met it with that dignity which did not often fail to quell even\nthe harshest of his adversaries. \"You pronounce that obviously the motive\nof the government is to ensure their own continuance in office. They\nprefer that to all the considerations connected with the great issue\nbefore them, and their minds in fact are of such a mean and degraded\norder, that they can only be acted upon, not by motives of honour and\nduty, but simply by those of selfishness and personal interest. Sir, I do\nnot condescend to discuss that imputation. The dart aimed at our shield,\nbeing such a dart as that, is _telum imbelle sine ictu_.\"(211)\n\nThe speaker then got on to the more hazardous part of the ground. He\nproceeded to criticise the observation of the leader of the opposition\nthat ministers had undertaken to remodel the bill. \"That happy word,\" he\nsaid, \"as applied to the structure of the bill, is a pure invention.\" Lord\nRandolph interjected that the word used was not \"remodelled,\" but\n\"reconstructed.\" \"Does the noble lord dare to say,\" asked the minister,\n\"that it was used in respect of the bill?\" \"Yes,\" said the noble lord.\n\"Never, never,\" cried the minister, with a vehemence that shook the hearts\nof doubting followers; \"it was used with respect to one particular clause,\nand one particular point of the bill, namely so much of it as touches the\nfuture relation of the representatives of Ireland to the imperial\nparliament.\" Before the exciting episode was over, it was stated\ndefinitely that if the bill were read a second time, ministers would\nadvise a prorogation and re-introduce the bill with amendments. The effect\nof this couple of hours was to convince the House that the government had\nmade up their minds that it was easier and safer to go to the country with\nthe plan as it stood, than to agree to changes that would entangle them in\nnew embarrassments, and discredit their confidence in their own handiwork.\nIngenious negotiators perceived that their toil had been fruitless. Every\nman now knew the precise situation that he had to face, in respect alike\nof the Irish bill and liberal unity.\n\nOn the day following this decisive scene (May 29), under the direction of\nthe radical leader an invitation to a conference was issued to those\nmembers \"who being in favour of some sort of autonomy for Ireland,\ndisapproved of the government bills in their present shape.\" The form of\nthe invitation is remarkable in view of its ultimate effect on Irish\nautonomy. The meeting was held on May 31, in the same committee room\nupstairs that four years later became associated with the most cruel of\nall phases of the Irish controversy. Mr. Chamberlain presided, and some\nfifty-five gentlemen attended. Not all of them had hitherto been\nunderstood to be in favour either of some sort, or of any sort, of\nautonomy for Ireland. The question was whether they should content\nthemselves with abstention from the division, or should go into the lobby\nagainst the government. If they abstained, the bill would pass, and an\nextension of the party schism would be averted. The point was carried, as\nall great parliamentary issues are, by considerations apart from the nice\nand exact balance of argument on the merits. In anxious and distracting\nmoments like this, when so many arguments tell in one way and so many tell\nin another, a casting vote often belongs to the moral weight of some\nparticular person. The chairman opened in a neutral sense. It seems to\nhave been mainly the moral weight of Mr. Bright that sent down the scale.\nHe was not present, but he sent a letter. He hoped that every man would\nuse his own mind, but for his part he must vote against the bill. This\nletter was afterwards described as the death-warrant of the bill and of\nthe administration. The course of the men who had been summoned because\nthey were favourable to some sort of home rule was decided by the\nillustrious statesman who opposed every sort of home rule. Their boat was\ndriven straight upon the rocks of coercion by the influence of the great\norator who had never in all his career been more eloquent than when he was\ndenouncing the mischief and futility of Irish coercion, and protesting\nthat force is no remedy.\n\nOne of the best speakers in the House, though not at that time in the\ncabinet, was making an admirably warm and convinced defence alike of the\npolicy and the bill while these proceedings were going on. But Mr. Fowler\nwas listened to by men of pre-occupied minds. All knew what (M123)\nmomentous business was on foot in another part of the parliamentary\nprecincts. Many in the ranks were confident that abstention would carry\nthe day. Others knew that the meeting had been summoned for no such\npurpose, and they made sure that the conveners would have their way. The\nquiet inside the House was intense and unnatural. As at last the news of\nthe determination upstairs to vote against the bill ran along the benches\nbefore the speaker sat down, men knew that the ministerial day was lost.\nIt was estimated by the heads of the \"Chamberlain group\" that if they\nabstained, the bill would pass by a majority of five. Such a bill carried\nby such a majority could of course not have proceeded much further. The\nprinciple of autonomy would have been saved, and time would have been\nsecured for deliberation upon a new plan. More than once Mr. Gladstone\nobserved that no decision taken from the beginning of the crisis to the\nend was either more incomprehensible or more disastrous.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThe division was taken a little after one o'clock on the morning of the\n8th of June. The Irish leader made one of the most masterly speeches that\never fell from him. Whether agreeing with or differing from the policy,\nevery unprejudiced listener felt that this was not the mere dialectic of a\nparty debater, dealing smartly with abstract or verbal or artificial\narguments, but the utterance of a statesman with his eye firmly fixed upon\nthe actual circumstances of the nation for whose government this bill\nwould make him responsible. As he dealt with Ulster, with finance, with\nthe supremacy of parliament, with the loyal minority, with the settlement\nof education in an Irish legislature,--soberly, steadily, deliberately,\nwith that full, familiar, deep insight into the facts of a country, which\nis only possible to a man who belongs to it and has passed his life in it,\nthe effect of Mr. Parnell's speech was to make even able disputants on\neither side look little better than amateurs.\n\nThe debate was wound up for the regular opposition by Sir Michael Hicks\nBeach, who was justly regarded throughout the session as having led his\nparty with remarkable skill and judgment. Like the Irish leader, he seemed\nto be inspired by the occasion to a performance beyond his usual range,\nand he delivered the final charge with strong effect. The bill, he said,\nwas the concoction of the prime minister and the Irish secretary, and the\ncabinet had no voice in the matter. The government had delayed the\nprogress of the bill for a whole long and weary month, in order to give\nparty wirepullers plenty of time in which to frighten waverers. To treat a\nvote on the second reading as a mere vote on a principle, without\nreference to the possibility of applying it, was a mischievous farce.\nCould anybody dream that if he supported the second reading now, he would\nnot compromise his action in the autumn and would not be appealed to as\nhaving made a virtual promise to Ireland, of which it would be impossible\nto disappoint her? As for the bill itself, whatever lawyers might say of\nthe theoretic maintenance of supremacy, in practice it would have gone.\nAll this side of the case was put by the speaker with the straight and\nvigorous thrust that always works with strong effect in this great arena\nof contest.\n\nThen came the unflagging veteran with the last of his five speeches. He\nwas almost as white as the flower in his coat, but the splendid compass,\nthe flexibility, the moving charm and power of his voice, were never more\nwonderful. The construction of the speech was a masterpiece, the temper of\nit unbroken, its freedom from taunt and bitterness and small personality\nincomparable. Even if Mr. Gladstone had been in the prime of his days,\ninstead of a man of seventy-six years all struck; even if he had been at\nhis ease for the last four months, instead of labouring with indomitable\ntoil at the two bills, bearing all the multifarious burdens of the head of\na government, and all the weight of the business of the leader of the\nHouse, undergoing all the hourly strain and contention of a political\nsituation of unprecedented difficulty,--much of the contention being of\nthat peculiarly trying and painful sort which means the parting of\ncolleagues and friends,--his closing speech would still have been a\nsurprising effort of free, argumentative, and fervid appeal. With the\nfervid (M124) appeal was mingled more than one piece of piquant mockery.\nMr. Chamberlain had said that a dissolution had no terrors for him. \"I do\nnot wonder at it. I do not see how a dissolution can have any terrors for\nhim. He has trimmed his vessel, and he has touched his rudder in such a\nmasterly way, that in whichever direction the winds of heaven may blow\nthey must fill his sails. Supposing that at an election public opinion\nshould be very strong in favour of the bill, my right hon. friend would\nthen be perfectly prepared to meet that public opinion, and tell it, 'I\ndeclared strongly that I adopted the principle of the bill.' On the other\nhand, if public opinion were very adverse to the bill, he again is in\ncomplete armour, because he says, 'Yes, I voted against the bill.'\nSupposing, again, public opinion is in favour of a very large plan for\nIreland, my right hon. friend is perfectly provided for that case also.\nThe government plan was not large enough for him, and he proposed in his\nspeech on the introduction of the bill that we should have a measure on\nthe basis of federation, which goes beyond this bill. Lastly--and now I\nhave very nearly boxed the compass--supposing that public opinion should\ntake quite a different turn, and instead of wanting very large measures\nfor Ireland, should demand very small measures for Ireland, still the\nresources of my right hon. friend are not exhausted, because he is then\nable to point out that the last of his plans was for four provincial\ncircuits controlled from London.\" All these alternatives and provisions\nwere visibly \"creations of the vivid imagination, born of the hour and\nperishing with the hour, totally unavailable for the solution of a great\nand difficult problem.\"\n\nNow, said the orator, was one of the golden moments of our history, one of\nthose opportunities which may come and may go, but which rarely return, or\nif they return, return at long intervals, and under circumstances which no\nman can forecast. There was such a golden moment in 1795, on the mission\nof Lord Fitzwilliam. At that moment the parliament of Grattan was on the\npoint of solving the Irish problem. The cup was at Ireland's lips, and she\nwas ready to drink it, when the hand of England rudely and ruthlessly\ndashed it to the ground in obedience to the wild and dangerous intimations\nof an Irish faction. There had been no great day of hope for Ireland\nsince, no day when you might completely and definitely hope to end the\ncontroversy till now--more than ninety years. The long periodic time had at\nlast run out, and the star had again mounted into the heavens.\n\nThis strain of living passion was sustained with all its fire and speed to\nthe very close. \"Ireland stands at your bar expectant, hopeful, almost\nsuppliant. Her words are the words of truth and soberness. She asks a\nblessed oblivion of the past, and in that oblivion our interest is deeper\neven than hers. You have been asked to-night to abide by the traditions of\nwhich we are the heirs. What traditions? By the Irish traditions? Go into\nthe length and breadth of the world, ransack the literature of all\ncountries, find if you can a single voice, a single book, in which the\nconduct of England towards Ireland is anywhere treated except with\nprofound and bitter condemnation. Are these the traditions by which we are\nexhorted to stand? No, they are a sad exception to the glory of our\ncountry. They are a broad and black blot upon the pages of its history,\nand what we want to do is to stand by the traditions of which we are the\nheirs in all matters except our relations with Ireland, and to make our\nrelation with Ireland to conform to the other traditions of our country.\nSo we treat our traditions, so we hail the demand of Ireland for what I\ncall a blessed oblivion of the past. She asks also a boon for the future;\nand that boon for the future, unless we are much mistaken, will be a boon\nto us in respect of honour, no less than a boon to her in respect of\nhappiness, prosperity and peace. Such, sir, is her prayer. Think, I\nbeseech you; think well, think wisely, think, not for the moment, but for\nthe years that are to come, before you reject this bill.\"\n\nThe question was put, the sand glass was turned upon the table, the\ndivision bells were set ringing. Even at this moment, the ministerial\nwhips believed that some were still wavering. A reference made by Mr.\nParnell to harmonious communications in the previous summer with a tory\nminister, (M125) inclined them to vote for the bill. On the other hand,\nthe prospect of going to an election without a tory opponent was no weak\ntemptation to a weak man. A common impression was that the bill would be\nbeaten by ten or fifteen. Others were sure that it would be twice as much\nas either figure. Some on the treasury bench, perhaps including the prime\nminister himself, hoped against hope that the hostile majority might not\nbe more than five or six. It proved to be thirty. The numbers were 343\nagainst 313. Ninety-three liberals voted against the bill. These with the\ntwo tellers were between one-third and one-fourth of the full liberal\nstrength from Great Britain. So ended the first engagement in this long\ncampaign. As I passed into his room at the House with Mr. Gladstone that\nnight, he seemed for the first time to bend under the crushing weight of\nthe burden that he had taken up.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nWhen ministers went into the cabinet on the following day, three of them\ninclined pretty strongly towards resignation as a better course than\ndissolution; mainly on the ground that the incoming government would then\nhave to go to the country with a policy of their own. Mr. Gladstone,\nhowever, entirely composed though pallid, at once opened the case with a\nlist of twelve reasons for recommending dissolution, and the reasons were\nso cogent that his opening of the case was also its closing. They were\nentirely characteristic, for they began with precedent and the key was\ncourage. He knew of no instance where a ministry defeated under\ncircumstances like ours, upon a great policy or on a vote of confidence,\nfailed to appeal to the country. Then with a view to the enthusiasm of our\nfriends in this country, as well as to feeling in Ireland, it was\nessential that we should not let the flag go down. We had been constantly\nchallenged to a dissolution, and not to take the challenge up would be a\nproof of mistrust, weakness, and a faint heart. \"My conclusion is,\" he\nsaid, \"a dissolution is formidable, but resignation would mean for the\npresent juncture abandonment of the cause.\" His conclusion was accepted\nwithout comment. The experts outside the cabinet were convinced that a\nbold front was the best way of securing the full fighting power of the\nparty. The white feather on such an issue, and with so many minds\nwavering, would be a sure provocative of defeat.\n\nMr. Gladstone enumerated to the Queen what he took to be the new elements\nin the case. There were on the side of the government, 1. The transfer of\nthe Irish vote from, the tories, 2. The popular enthusiasm in the liberal\nmasses which he had never seen equalled. But what was the electoral value\nof enthusiasm against (_a_) anti-Irish prejudices, (_b_) the power of\nrank, station, and wealth, (_c_) the kind of influence exercised by the\nestablished clergy, 'perversely applied as of course Mr. Gladstone thinks\nin politics, but resting upon a very solid basis as founded on the\ngenerally excellent and devoted work which they do in their parishes'?\nThis remained to be proved. On the other side there was the whig\ndefection, with the strange and unnatural addition from Birmingham. \"Mr.\nGladstone himself has no skill in these matters, and dare not lay an\nopinion before your Majesty on the probable general result.\" He thought\nthere was little chance, if any, of a tory majority in the new parliament.\nOpinion taken as a whole seemed to point to a majority not very large,\nwhichever way it may be.\n\nNo election was ever fought more keenly, and never did so many powerful\nmen fling themselves with livelier activity into a great struggle. The\nheaviest and most telling attack came from Mr. Bright, who had up to now\nin public been studiously silent. Every word, as they said of Daniel\nWebster, seemed to weigh a pound. His arguments were mainly those of his\nletter already given, but they were delivered with a gravity and force\nthat told powerfully upon the large phalanx of doubters all over the\nkingdom. On the other side, Mr. Gladstone's plume waved in every part of\nthe field. He unhorsed an opponent as he flew past on the road; his voice\nrang with calls as thrilling as were ever heard in England; he appealed to\nthe individual, to his personal responsibility, to the best elements in\nhim, to the sense of justice, to the powers of hope and of sympathy; he\n(M126) displayed to the full that rare combination of qualities that had\nalways enabled him to view affairs in all their range, at the same time\nfrom the high commanding eminence and on the near and sober level.\n\nHe left London on June 17 on his way to Edinburgh, and found \"wonderful\ndemonstrations all along the road; many little speeches; could not be\nhelped.\" \"The feeling here,\" he wrote from Edinburgh (June 21), \"is truly\nwonderful, especially when, the detestable state of the press is\nconsidered.\" Even Mr. Goschen, whom he described as \"supplying in the\nmain, soul, brains, and movement to the dissentient body,\" was handsomely\nbeaten in one of the Edinburgh divisions, so fatal was the proximity of\nAchilles. \"_June 22._ Off to Glasgow, 12-3/4. Meeting at 3. Spoke an hour\nand twenty minutes. Off at 5.50. Reached Hawarden at 12.30 or 40. Some\nspeeches by the way; others I declined. The whole a scene of triumph. God\nhelp us, His poor creatures.\" At Hawarden, he found chaos in his room, and\nhe set to work upon it, but he did not linger. On June 25, \"off to\nManchester; great meeting in the Free Trade Hall. Strain excessive. Five\nmiles through the streets to Mr. Agnew's; a wonderful spectacle half the\nway.\" From Manchester he wrote, \"I have found the display of enthusiasm\nfar beyond all former measure,\" and the torrid heat of the meeting almost\nbroke him down, but friends around him heard him murmur, \"I must do it,\"\nand bracing himself with tremendous effort he went on. Two days later\n(June 28) he wound up the campaign in a speech at Liverpool, which even\nold and practised political hands who were there, found the most\nmagnificent of them all. Staying at Courthey, the residence of his\nnephews, in the morning he enters, \"Worked up the Irish question once more\nfor my last function. Seven or eight hours of processional uproar, and a\nspeech of an hour and forty minutes to five or six thousand people in\nHengler's Circus. Few buildings give so noble a presentation of an\naudience. Once more my voice held out in a marvellous manner. I went in\nbitterness, in the heat of my spirit, but the hand of the Lord was strong\nupon me.\"\n\nHe had no sooner returned to Hawarden, than he wrote to tell Mrs.\nGladstone (July 2) of a stroke which was thought to have a curiously\ndaemonic air about it:--\n\n\n The Leith business will show you I have not been inactive\n here.--former M.P. _attended my meeting in the Music Hall_, and was\n greeted by me accordingly (he had voted against us after wobbling\n about much). Hearing by late post yesterday that waiting to the\n last he had then declared against us, I telegraphed down to\n Edinburgh in much indignation, that they might if they liked put\n me up against him, and I would go down again and speak if they\n wished it. They seem to have acted with admirable pluck and\n promptitude. Soon after mid-day to-day I received telegrams to say\n I am elected for Midlothian,(212) and _also for Leith_,--having\n retired rather than wait to be beaten. I told them instantly to\n publish this, as it may do good.\n\n\nThe Queen, who had never relished these oratorical crusades whether he was\nin opposition or in office, did not approve of the first minister of the\ncrown addressing meetings outside of his own constituency. In reply to a\ngracious and frank letter from Balmoral, Mr. Gladstone wrote:--\n\n\n He must state frankly what it is that has induced him thus to\n yield [to importunity for speeches]. It is that since the death of\n Lord Beaconsfield, in fact since 1880, the leaders of the\n opposition, Lord Salisbury and Lord Iddesleigh (he has not\n observed the same practice in the case of Sir M. H. Beach) have\n established a rule of what may be called popular agitation, by\n addressing public meetings from time to time at places with which\n they were not connected. This method was peculiarly marked in the\n case of Lord Salisbury as a peer, and this change on the part of\n the leaders of opposition has induced Mr. Gladstone to deviate on\n this critical occasion from the rule which he had (he believes)\n generally or uniformly observed in former years. He is, as he has\n previously apprised your Majesty, aware of the immense\n responsibility he has assumed, and of the severity of just\n condemnation which will be pronounced upon him, if he should\n eventually prove to have been wrong. But your Majesty will be the\n first to perceive that, even if it had been possible for him to\n decline this great contest, it was not possible for him having\n entered upon it, to conduct it in a half-hearted manner, or to\n omit the use of any means requisite in order to place (what he\n thinks) the true issue before the country.\n\n\nNature, however, served the royal purpose. Before his speech at Liverpool,\nhe was pressed to speak in the metropolis:--\n\n\n As to my going to London,--he wrote in reply,--I have twice had my\n chest rather seriously strained, and I have at this moment a sense\n of internal fatigue within it which is quite new to me, from the\n effects of a bad arrangement in the hall at Manchester. Should\n anything like it be repeated at Liverpool to-morrow I shall not be\n fit physically to speak for a week, if then. Mentally I have never\n undergone such an uninterrupted strain as since January 30 of this\n year. The forming and reforming of the government, the work of\n framing the bills, and _studying the subject_ (which none of the\n opponents would do), have left me almost stunned, and I have the\n autumn in prospect with, perhaps, most of the work to do over\n again if we succeed.\n\n\nBut this was not to be. The incomparable effort was in vain. The sons of\nZeruiah were too hard for him, and England was unconvinced.\n\nThe final result was that the ministerialists or liberals of the main body\nwere reduced from 235 to 196, the tories rose from 251 to 316, the\ndissentient liberals fell to 74, and Mr. Parnell remained at his former\nstrength. In other words, the opponents of the Irish policy of the\ngovernment were 390, as against 280 in its favour; or a unionist majority\nof 110. Once more no single party possessed an independent or absolute\nmajority. An important member of the tory party said to a liberal of his\nacquaintance (July 7), that he was almost sorry the tories had not played\nthe bold game and fought independently of the dissentient liberals. \"But\nthen,\" he added, \"we could not have beaten you on the bill, without the\ncompact to spare unionist seats.\"\n\nEngland had returned opponents of the liberal policy in the proportion of\ntwo and a half to one against its friends; but Scotland approved in the\nproportion of three to two, Wales approved by five to one, and Ireland by\nfour and a half to one. Another fact with a warning in it was that, taking\nthe total poll for Great Britain, the liberals had 1,344,000, the seceders\n397,000, and the tories 1,041,000. Therefore in contested constituencies\nthe liberals of the main body were only 76,000 behind the forces of tories\nand seceders combined. Considering the magnitude and the surprise of the\nissue laid before the electors, and in view of the confident prophecies of\neven some peculiar friends of the policy, that both policy and its authors\nwould be swept out of existence by a universal explosion of national anger\nand disgust, there was certainly no final and irrevocable verdict in a\nhostile British majority of no more than four per cent, of the votes\npolled. Apart from electoral figures, coercion loomed large and near at\nhand, and coercion tried under the new political circumstances that would\nfor the first time attend it, might well be trusted to do much more than\nwipe out the margin at the polls. \"There is nothing in the recent defeat,\"\nsaid Mr. Gladstone, \"to abate the hopes or to modify the anticipations of\nthose who desire to meet the wants and wishes of Ireland.\"\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe question now before Mr. Gladstone was whether to meet the new\nparliament or at once to resign. For a short time he wavered, along with\nan important colleague, and then he and all the rest came round to\nresignation. The considerations that guided him were these. It is best for\nIreland that the party strongest in the new parliament should be at once\nconfronted with its responsibilities. Again, we were bound to consider\nwhat would most tend to reunite the liberal party, and it was in\nopposition that the chances of such reunion would be likely to stand\nhighest, especially in view of coercion which many of the dissidents had\nrefused to contemplate. If he could remodel the bill or frame a new one,\nthat might be a possible ground for endeavouring to make up a majority,\nbut he could not see his way to any (M127) such process, though he was\nready for certain amendments. Finally, if we remained, an amendment would\nbe moved definitely committing the new House against home rule.\n\nThe conclusion was for immediate resignation, and his colleagues were\nunanimous in assent. The Irish view was different and impossible.\nReturning from a visit to Ireland I wrote to Mr. Gladstone (July 19):--\n\n\n You may perhaps care to see what ---- [not a secular politician]\n thinks, so I enclose you a conversation between him and ----. He\n does not show much strength of political judgment, and one can\n understand why Parnell never takes him into counsel. Parnell, of\n course, is anxious for us to hold on to the last moment. Our fall\n will force him without delay to take up a new and difficult line.\n But his letters to me, especially the last, show a desperate\n willingness to blink the new parliamentary situation.\n\n\nMr. Parnell, in fact, pressed with some importunity that we should meet\nthe new parliament, on the strange view that the result of the election\nwas favourable on general questions, and indecisive only on Irish policy.\nWe were to obtain the balance of supply in an autumn sitting, in January\nto attack registration reform, and then to dissolve upon that, without\nmaking any Irish proposition whatever. This curious suggestion left\naltogether out of sight the certainty that an amendment referring to\nIreland would be at once moved on the Address, such as must beyond all\ndoubt command the whole of the tories and a large part, if not all, of the\nliberal dissentients. Only one course was possible for the defeated\nministers, and they resigned.\n\nOn July 30, Mr. Gladstone had his final audience of the Queen, of which he\nwrote the memorandum following:--\n\n\n _Conversation with the Queen, August 2, 1886._\n\n The conversation at my closing audience on Friday was a singular\n one, when regarded as the probable last word with the sovereign\n after fifty-five years of political life, and a good quarter of a\n century's service rendered to her in office.\n\n The Queen was in good spirits; her manners altogether pleasant.\n She made me sit at once. Asked after my wife as we began, and sent\n a kind message to her as we ended. About me personally, I think,\n her single remark was that I should require some rest. I remember\n that on a closing audience in 1874 she said she felt sure I might\n be reckoned upon to support the throne. She did not say anything\n of the sort to-day. Her mind and opinions have since that day been\n seriously warped, and I respect her for the scrupulous avoidance\n of anything which could have seemed to indicate a desire on her\n part to claim anything in common with me.\n\n Only at three points did the conversation touch upon anything even\n faintly related to public affairs.... The second point was the\n conclusion of some arrangement for appanages or incomes on behalf\n of the third generation of the royal house. I agreed that there\n ought at a suitable time to be a committee on this subject, as had\n been settled some time back, she observing that the recent\n circumstances had made the time unsuitable. I did not offer any\n suggestion as to the grounds of the affair, but said it seemed to\n me possible to try some plan under which intended marriages should\n be communicated without forcing a reply from the Houses. Also I\n agreed that the amounts were not excessive. I did not pretend to\n have a solution ready: but said it would, of course, be the duty\n of the government to submit a plan to the committee. The third\n matter was trivial: a question or two from her on the dates and\n proceedings connected with the meeting. The rest of the\n conversation, not a very long one, was filled up with nothings. It\n is rather melancholy. But on neither side, given the conditions,\n could it well be helped.\n\n On the following day she wrote a letter, making it evident that,\n so far as Ireland was concerned, she could not trust herself to\n say what she wanted to say....\n\n\nAmong the hundreds of letters that reached him every week was one from an\nevangelical lady of known piety, enclosing him a form of prayer that had\nbeen issued against home rule. His acknowledgment (July 27) shows none of\nthe impatience of the baffled statesman:--\n\n\n I thank you much for your note; and though I greatly deplored the\n issue, and the ideas of the prayer in question, yet, from the\n moment when I heard it was your composition, I knew perfectly well\n that it was written in entire good faith, and had no relation to\n political controversy in the ordinary sense. I cannot but think\n that, in bringing the subject of Irish intolerance before the\n Almighty Father, we ought to have some regard to the fact that\n down to the present day, as between the two religions, the offence\n has been in the proportion of perhaps a hundred to one on the\n protestant side, and the suffering by it on the Roman side. At the\n present hour, I am pained to express my belief that there is far\n more of intolerance in action from so-called protestants against\n Roman catholics, than from Roman catholics against protestants. It\n is a great satisfaction to agree with you, as I feel confident\n that I must do, in the conviction that of prayers we cannot\n possibly have too much in this great matter, and for my own part I\n heartily desire that, unless the policy I am proposing be for the\n honour of God and the good of His creatures, it may be trampled\n under foot and broken into dust. Of your most charitable thoughts\n and feelings towards me I am deeply sensible, and I remain with\n hearty regard.\n\n\nAs he wrote at this time to R. H. Hutton (July 2), one of the choice\nspirits of our age, \"Rely upon it, I can never quarrel with you or with\nBright. What vexes me is when differences disclose baseness, which\nsometimes happens.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK X. 1886-1892\n\n\n\n\nChapter I. The Morrow Of Defeat. (1886-1887)\n\n\n Charity rendereth a man truly great, enlarging his mind into a\n vast circumference, and to a capacity nearly infinite; so that it\n by a general care doth reach all things, by an universal affection\n doth embrace and grace the world.... Even a spark of it in\n generosity of dealing breedeth admiration; a glimpse of it in\n formal courtesy of behaviour procureth much esteem, being deemed\n to accomplish and adorn a man.--BARROW.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nAfter the rejection of his Irish policy in the summer of 1886, Mr.\nGladstone had a period of six years before him, the life of the new\nparliament. Strangely dramatic years they were, in some respects unique in\nour later history. The party schism among liberals grew deeper and wider.\nThe union between tories and seceders became consolidated and final. The\nalternative policy of coercion was passed through parliament in an extreme\nform and with violent strain on the legislative machinery, and it was\ncarried out in Ireland in a fashion that pricked the consciences of many\nthousands of voters who had resisted the proposals of 1886. A fierce storm\nrent the Irish phalanx in two, and its leader vanished from the field\nwhere for sixteen years he had fought so bold and uncompromising a fight.\nDuring this period Mr. Gladstone stood in the most trying of all the\nvaried positions of his life, and without flinching he confronted it in\nthe strong faith that the national honour as well as the assuagement\n(M128) of the inveterate Irish wound in the flank of his country, were the\nissues at stake.\n\nThis intense pre-occupation in the political struggle did not for a single\nweek impair his other interests, nor stay his ceaseless activity in\ncontroversies that were not touched by politics. Not even now, when the\ngreat cause to which he had so daringly committed himself was in decisive\nissue, could he allow it to dull or sever what had been the standing\nconcerns of life and thought to him for so long a span of years. As from\nhis youth up, so now behind the man of public action was the diligent,\neager, watchful student, churchman, apologist, divine. And what is curious\nand delightful is that he never set a more admirable example of the tone\nand temper in which literary and religious controversy should be\nconducted, than in these years when in politics exasperation was at its\nworst. It was about this time that he wrote: \"Certainly one of the lessons\nlife has taught me is that where there is known to be a common object, the\npursuit of truth, there should also be a studious desire to interpret the\nadversary in the best sense his words will fairly bear; to avoid whatever\nwidens the breach; and to make the most of whatever tends to narrow it.\nThese I hold to be part of the laws of knightly tournament.\" And to these\nlaws he sedulously conformed. Perhaps at some happy time before the day of\njudgment they may be transferred from the tournament to the battle-fields\nof philosophy, criticism, and even politics.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nAfter the defeat in which his tremendous labours had for the moment ended,\nhe made his way to what was to him the most congenial atmosphere in the\nworld, to the company of Doellinger and Acton, at Tegernsee in Bavaria.\n\"Tegernsee,\" Lord Acton wrote to me (Sept. 7), \"is an out-of-the-way\nplace, peaceful and silent, and as there is a good library in the house, I\nhave taken some care of his mind, leading in the direction of little\nFrench comedies, and away from the tragedy of existence. It has done him\ngood, and he has just started with Doellinger to climb a high mountain in\nthe neighbourhood.\"\n\n\n _To Mrs. Gladstone._\n\n _Tegernsee, Aug. 28, 1886._--We found Doellinger reading in the\n garden. The course of his life is quite unchanged. His\n constitution does not appear at all to have given way. He beats me\n utterly in standing, but that is not saying much, as it never was\n one of my gifts; and he is not conscious (eighty-seven last\n February) of any difficulty with the heart in going up hill. His\n deafness has increased materially, but not so that he cannot carry\n on very well conversation with a single person. We have talked\n much together even on disestablishment which he detests, and\n Ireland as to which he is very apprehensive, but he never seems to\n shut up his mind by prejudice. I had a good excuse for giving him\n my pamphlet,(213) but I do not know whether he will tell us what\n he thinks of it. He was reading it this morning. He rises at six\n and breakfasts alone. Makes a _good_ dinner at two and has nothing\n more till the next morning. He does not appear after dark. On the\n whole one sees no reason why he should not last for several years\n yet.\n\n\n\"When Dr. Doellinger was eighty-seven,\" Mr. Gladstone wrote later, \"he\nwalked with me seven miles across the hill that separates the Tegernsee\nfrom the next valley to the eastward. At that time he began to find his\nsleep subject to occasional interruptions, and he had armed himself\nagainst them by committing to memory the first three books of the\n_Odyssey_ for recital.\"(214) Of Mr. Gladstone Doellinger had said in 1885,\n\"I have known Gladstone for thirty years, and would stand security for him\nany day; his character is a very fine one, and he possesses a rare\ncapability for work. I differ from him in his political views on many\npoints, and it is difficult to convince him, for he is clad in triple\nsteel.\"(215)\n\nAnother high personage in the Roman catholic world sent him letters\nthrough Acton, affectionately written and with signs of serious as well as\nsympathising study of his Irish policy. A little later (Sept. 21) Mr.\nGladstone writes to his wife at Hawarden:--\n\n\n Bishop Strossmayer may make a journey all the way to Hawarden, and\n it seems that Acton may even accompany him, which would make it\n much more manageable. His coming would be a great compliment, and\n cannot be discouraged or refused. It would, however, be a serious\n affair, for he speaks no language with which as a spoken tongue we\n are familiar, his great cards being Slavonic and Latin.\n Unfortunately I have a very great increase of difficulty in\n _hearing_ the words in foreign tongues, a difficulty which I hope\n has hardly begun with you as yet.\n\n\nLike a good host, Lord Acton kept politics out of his way as well as he\ncould, but some letter of mine \"set him on fire, and he is full of ----'s\nblunder and of Parnell's bill.\" Parliamentary duty was always a sting to\nhim, and by September 20 he was back in the House of Commons, speaking on\nthe Tenants Relief (Ireland) bill. Then to the temple of peace at Hawarden\nfor the rest of the year, to read the _Iliad_ \"for the twenty-fifth or\nthirtieth time, and every time richer and more glorious than before\"; to\nwrite elaborately on Homeric topics; to receive a good many visitors; and\nto compose the admirable article on Tennyson's second _Locksley Hall_. On\nthis last let us pause for an instant. The moment was hardly one in which,\nfrom a man of nature less great and powerful than Mr. Gladstone, we should\nhave counted on a buoyant vindication of the spirit of his time. He had\njust been roughly repulsed in the boldest enterprise of his career; his\nname was a target for infinite obloquy; his motives were largely denounced\nas of the basest; the conflict into which he had plunged and from which he\ncould not withdraw was hard; friends had turned away from him; he was old;\nthe issue was dubious and dark. Yet the personal, or even what to him were\nthe national discomfitures of the hour, were not allowed to blot the sun\nout of the heavens. His whole soul rose in challenge against the tragic\ntones of Tennyson's poem, as he recalled the solid tale of the vast\nimprovements, the enormous mitigation of the sorrows and burdens of\nmankind, that had been effected in the land by public opinion and public\nauthority, operative in the exhilarating sphere of self-government during\nthe sixty years between the first and second _Locksley Hall_.\n\n\n The sum of the matter seems to be that upon the whole, and in a\n degree, we who lived fifty, sixty, seventy years back, and are\n living now, have lived into a gentler time; that the public\n conscience has grown more tender, as indeed was very needful; and\n that in matters of practice, at sight of evils formerly regarded\n with indifference or even connivance, it now not only winces but\n rebels; that upon the whole the race has been reaping, and not\n scattering; earning and not wasting; and that without its being\n said that the old Prophet is wrong, it may be said that the young\n Prophet was unquestionably right.\n\n\nHere is the way in which a man of noble heart and high vision as of a\ncircling eagle, transcends his individual chagrins. All this optimism was\nthe natural vein of a statesman who had lived a long life of effort in\npersuading opinion in so many regions, in overcoming difficulty upon\ndifficulty, in content with a small reform where men would not let him\nachieve a great one, in patching where he could not build anew, in\nunquenchable faith, hope, patience, endeavour. Mr. Gladstone knew as well\nas Tennyson that \"every blessing has its drawbacks, and every age its\ndangers\"; he was as sensitive as Tennyson or Ruskin or any of them, to the\nimplacable tragedy of industrial civilisation--the city children\n\"blackening soul and sense in city slime,\" progress halting on palsied\nfeet \"among the glooming alleys,\" crime and hunger casting maidens on the\nstreet, and all the other recesses of human life depicted by the poetic\nprophet in his sombre hours. But the triumphs of the past inspired\nconfidence in victories for the future, and meanwhile he thought it well\nto remind Englishmen that \"their country is still young as well as old,\nand that in these latest days it has not been unworthy of itself.\"(216)\n\nOn his birthday he enters in his diary:--\n\n\n _Dec. 29, 1886._--This day in its outer experience recalls the\n Scotch usage which would say, \"terrible pleasant.\" In spite of the\n ruin of telegraph wires by snow, my letters and postal arrivals of\n to-day have much exceeded those of last year. Even my share of the\n reading was very heavy. The day was gone before it seemed to have\n begun, all amidst stir and festivity. The estimate was nine\n hundred arrivals. O for a birthday of recollection. It is long\n since I have had one. There is so much to say on the soul's\n history, but bracing is necessary to say it, as it is for reading\n Dante. It has been a year of shock and strain. I think a year of\n some progress; but of greater absorption in interests which,\n though profoundly human, are quite off the line of an old man's\n direct preparation for passing the River of Death. I have not had\n a chance given me of creeping from this whirlpool, for I cannot\n abandon a cause which is so evidently that of my fellow-men, and\n in which a particular part seems to be assigned to me. Therefore\n am I not disturbed \"though the hills be carried into the middle of\n the sea.\"\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\n _To Lord Acton._\n\n _Hawarden, Jan. 13, 1887._--It is with much pleasure that I read\n your estimate of Chamberlain. His character is remarkable, as are\n in a very high degree his talents. It is one of my common sayings\n that to me characters of the political class are the most\n mysterious of all I meet, so that I am obliged to travel the road\n of life surrounded by an immense number of judgments more or less\n in suspense, and getting on for practical purposes as well as I\n can.\n\n I have with a clear mind and conscience not only assented to but\n promoted the present conferences, and I had laboured in that sense\n long before Mr. Chamberlain made his speech at Birmingham. It will\n surprise as well as grieve me if they do harm; if indeed they do\n not do some little good. Large and final arrangements, it would be\n rash I think to expect.\n\n The tide is flowing, though perhaps not rapidly, in our favour.\n Without our lifting a finger, a crumbling process has begun in\n both the opposite parties. \"In quietness and in confidence shall\n be your strength\" is a blessed maxim, often applicable to\n temporals as well as spirituals. I have indeed one temptation to\n haste, namely, that the hour may come for me to say farewell and\n claim my retirement; but inasmuch as I remain _in situ_ for the\n Irish question only, I cannot be so foolish as to allow myself to\n ruin by precipitancy my own purpose. Though I am writing a paper\n on the Irish question for Mr. Knowles, it is no trumpet-blast, but\n is meant to fill and turn to account a season of comparative\n quietude.\n\n The death of Iddesleigh has shocked and saddened us all. He was\n full of excellent qualities, but had not the backbone and strength\n of fibre necessary to restore the tone of a party demoralised by\n his former leader. In gentleness, temper, sacrifice of himself to\n the common purpose of his friends, knowledge, quickness of\n perception, general integrity of intention, freedom from personal\n aims, he was admirable.... I have been constantly struggling to\n vindicate a portion of my time for the pursuits I want to follow,\n but with very little success indeed. Some rudiments of Olympian\n religion have partially taken shape. I have a paper ready for\n Knowles probably in his March number on the Poseidon of Homer, a\n most curious and exotic personage.... Williams and Norgate got me\n the books I wanted, but alack for the time to read them! In\n addition to want of time, I have to deplore my slowness in\n reading, declining sight, and declining memory; all very serious\n affairs for one who has such singular reason to be thankful as to\n general health and strength.\n\n I wish I could acknowledge duly or pay even in part your\n unsparing, untiring kindness in the discharge of your engagements\n as \"Cook.\" Come early to England--and stay long. We will try what\n we can to bind you.\n\n\nA few months later, he added to his multifarious exercises in criticism\nand controversy, a performance that attracted especial attention.(217)\n\"Mamma and I,\" he wrote to Mrs. Drew, \"are each of us still separately\nengaged in a death-grapple with _Robert Elsmere_. I complained of some of\nthe novels you gave me to read as too stiff, but they are nothing to this.\nIt is wholly out of the common order. At present I regard with doubt and\ndread the idea of doing anything on it, but cannot yet be sure whether\nyour observations will be verified or not. In any case it is a tremendous\nbook.\" And on April 1 (1888), he wrote, \"By hard work I have finished and\nam correcting my article on _Robert Elsmere_. It is rather stiff work. I\nhave had two letters from her. She is much to be liked personally, but is\na fruit, I think, of what must be called Arnoldism.\"\n\n\n _To Lord Acton._\n\n _Aston Clinton, Tring, Easter Day, April 1, '88._--I do not like to\n let too long a time elapse without some note of intercourse, even\n though that season approaches which brings you back to the shores\n of your country. Were you here I should have much to say on many\n things; but I will now speak, or first speak, of what is\n uppermost, and would, if a mind is like a portmanteau, be taken or\n tumble out first.\n\n You perhaps have not heard of _Robert Elsmere_, for I find without\n surprise, that it makes its way slowly into public notice. It is\n not far from twice the length of an ordinary novel; and the labour\n and effort of reading it all, I should say, sixfold; while one\n could no more stop in it than in reading Thucydides. The idea of\n the book, perhaps of the writer, appears to be a movement of\n retreat from Christianity upon Theism: a Theism with a Christ\n glorified, always in the human sense, but beyond the ordinary\n measure. It is worked out through the medium of a being--one ought\n to say a character, but I withhold the word, for there is no\n sufficient substratum of character to uphold the qualities--gifted\n with much intellectual subtlety and readiness, and almost every\n conceivable moral excellence. He finds vent in an energetic\n attempt to carry his new gospel among the skilled artisans of\n London, whom the writer apparently considers as supplying the\n _norm_ for all right human judgment. He has extraordinary success,\n establishes a new church under the name of the new Christian\n brotherhood, kills himself with overwork, but leaves his project\n flourishing in a certain \"Elgood Street.\" It is in fact (like the\n Salvation Army), a new Kirche der Zukunft.\n\n I am always inclined to consider this Theism as among the least\n defensible of the positions alternative to Christianity. Robert\n Elsmere who has been a parish clergyman, is upset entirely, as it\n appears, by the difficulty of accepting miracles, and by the\n suggestion that the existing Christianity grew up in an age\n specially predisposed to them.\n\n I want as usual to betray you into helping the lame dog over the\n stile; and I should like to know whether you would think me\n violently wrong in holding that the period of the Advent was a\n period when the appetite for, or disposition to, the supernatural\n was declining and decaying; that in the region of human thought,\n speculation was strong and scepticism advancing; that if our Lord\n were a mere man, armed only with human means, His whereabouts was\n in this and many other ways misplaced by Providence; that the\n gospels and the New Testament must have much else besides miracle\n torn out of them, in order to get us down to the _caput mortuum_\n of Elgood Street. This very remarkable work is in effect identical\n with the poor, thin, ineffectual production published with some\n arrogance by the Duke of Somerset, which found a quack remedy for\n difficulties in what he considered the impregnable citadel of\n belief in God.\n\n Knowles has brought this book before me, and being as strong as it\n is strange, it cannot perish still-born. I am tossed about with\n doubt as to writing upon it.\n\n _To Lord Acton._\n\n _Oxford, April 8, '88._--I am grateful for your most interesting\n letter, which contains very valuable warnings. On the other side\n is copied what I have written on two of the points raised by the\n book. Have I said too much of the Academy? I have spoken only of\n the first century. You refer to (apparently) about 250 A.D. as a\n time of great progress? But I was astonished on first reading the\n census of Christian clergy in Rome _temp._ St. Cyprian, it was so\n slender. I am not certain, but does not Beugnot estimate the\n Christians, before Constantine's conversion, in the west at\n one-tenth of the population? Mrs. T. Arnold died yesterday here.\n Mrs. Ward had been summoned and she is coming to see me this\n evening. It is a very singular phase of the controversy which she\n has opened. When do you _repatriate_?\n\n I am afraid that my kindness to the Positivists amounts only to a\n comparative approval of their not dropping the great human\n tradition out of view; _plus_ a very high appreciation of the\n personal qualities of our friend ----.\n\n _To Lord Acton._\n\n _Dollis Hill, May 13, '88._--Your last letter was one of extreme\n interest. It raised such a multitude of points, after your perusal\n of my article on R. Elsmere, as to stimulate in the highest degree\n my curiosity to know how far you would carry into propositions,\n the ideas which you for the most part obliquely put forward. I\n gave the letter to Mary, who paid us a flying visit in London,\n that she might take it to Hawarden for full digestion. For myself\n I feed upon the hope that when (when ?) you come back to England\n we may go over the points, and I may reap further benefits from\n your knowledge. I will not now attempt anything of the kind. But I\n will say this generally, that I am not so much oppressed as you\n appear to be, with the notion that great difficulties have been\n imported by the researches of scientists into the religious and\n theological argument. As respects cosmogony and _geogony_, the\n Scripture has, I think, taken much benefit from them. Whatever be\n the date of the early books, Pentateuch or Hexateuch in their\n present _edition_, the Assyriological investigations seem to me to\n have fortified and accredited their substance by producing similar\n traditions in variant forms inferior to the Mosaic forms, and\n tending to throw them back to a higher antiquity, a fountainhead\n nearer the source. Then there is the great chapter of the\n Dispersal: which Renan (I think) treats as exhibiting the\n marvellous genius (!) of the Jews. As to unbroken sequences in the\n physical order, they do not trouble me, because we have to do not\n with the natural but the moral order, and over this science, or as\n I call it natural science, does not wave her sceptre. It is no\n small matter, again (if so it be, as I suppose), that, after\n warring for a century against miracle as unsustained by\n experience, the assailants should now have to abandon that ground,\n stand only upon sequence, and controvert the great facts of the\n New Testament only by raising to an extravagant and unnatural\n height the demands made under the law of testimony in order to\n [justify] a rational belief. One admission has to be made, that\n death did not come into the world by sin, namely the sin of Adam,\n and this sits inconveniently by the declaration of Saint Paul.\n\n Mrs. Ward wrote to thank me for the tone of my article. Her first\n intention was to make some reply in the _Nineteenth Century_\n itself. It appears that ---- advised her not to do it. But Knowles\n told me that he was labouring to bring her up to the scratch\n again. There, I said, you show the cloven foot; you want to keep\n the _Nineteenth Century_ pot boiling.\n\n I own that your reasons for not being in England did not appear to\n me cogent, but it would be impertinent to make myself a judge of\n them. The worst of it was that you did not name _any_ date. But I\n must assume that you are coming; and surely the time cannot now be\n far. Among other things, I want to speak with you about French\n novels, a subject on which there has for me been quite recently\n cast a most lurid light.\n\n\nActon's letters in reply may have convinced Mr. Gladstone that there were\ndepths in this supreme controversy that he had hardly sounded; and\nadversaria that he might have mocked from a professor of the school or\nschools of unbelief, he could not in his inner mind make light of, when\ncoming from the pen of a catholic believer. Before and after the article\non _Robert Elsmere_ appeared, Acton, the student with his vast historic\nknowledge and his deep penetrating gaze, warned the impassioned critic of\nsome historic point overstated or understated, some dangerous breach left\nall unguarded, some lack of nicety in definition. Acton's letters will one\nday see the light, and the reader may then know how candidly Mr. Gladstone\nwas admonished as to the excess of his description of the moral action of\nChristianity; as to the risk of sending modern questions to ancient\nanswers, for the apologists of an age can only meet the difficulties of\ntheir age; that there are leaps and bounds in the history of thought; how\nwell did Newman once say that in theology you have to meet questions that\nthe Fathers could hardly have been made to understand; how if you go to\nSt. Thomas or Leibnitz or Paley for rescue from Hegel or Haeckel your\napologetics will be a record of disaster. You insist broadly, says Acton,\non belief in the divine nature of Christ as the soul, substance, and\ncreative force of Christian religion; you assign to it very much of the\ngood the church has done; all this with little or no qualification or\ndrawback from the other side:--\n\n\n Enter Martineau or Stephen or ---- (unattached), and loq.:--Is this\n the final judgment of the chief of liberals? the pontiff of a\n church whose fathers are the later Milton and the later Penn,\n Locke, Bayle, Toland, Franklin, Turgot, Adam Smith, Washington,\n Jefferson, Bentham, Dugald Stewart, Romilly, Tocqueville,\n Channing, Macaulay, Mill? These men and others like them\n disbelieved that doctrine established freedom, and they undid the\n work of orthodox Christianity, they swept away that appalling\n edifice of intolerance, tyranny, cruelty, which believers in\n Christ built up to perpetuate their belief.\n\n\nThe philosophy of liberal history, Acton proceeds, which has to\nacknowledge the invaluable services of early Christianity, feels the\nanti-liberal and anti-social action of later Christianity, before the rise\nof the sects that rejected, some of them the divinity of Christ; others,\nthe institutions of the church erected upon it. Liberalism if it admits\nthese things as indifferent, surrenders its own _raison d'etre_, and\nceases to strive for an ethical cause. If the doctrine of Torquemada make\nus condone his morality, there can be no public right and no wrong, no\npolitical sin, no secular cause to die for. So it might be said that--\n\n\n You do not work really from the principle of liberalism, but from\n the cognate, though distinct principles of democracy, nationality,\n progress, etc. To some extent, I fear, you will estrange valued\n friends, not assuredly by any expression of theological belief,\n but by seeming to ignore the great central problem of Christian\n politics. If I had to put my own doubts, instead of the average\n liberal's, I should state the case in other words, but not\n altogether differently.(218)\n\n\n\n\nChapter II. The Alternative Policy In Act. (1886-1888)\n\n\n Those who come over hither to us from England, and some weak\n people among ourselves, whenever in discourse we make mention of\n liberty and property, shake their heads, and tell us that \"Ireland\n is a depending kingdom,\" as if they would seem by this phrase to\n intend, that the people of Ireland are in some state of slavery or\n dependence different from those of England.--JONATHAN SWIFT.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIn the ministry that succeeded Mr. Gladstone in 1886, Sir Michael Hicks\nBeach undertook for the second time the office of Irish secretary, while\nLord Randolph Churchill filled his place at the exchequer and as leader of\nthe House. The new Irish policy was to open with the despatch of a\ndistinguished soldier to put down moonlighters in Kerry; the creation of\none royal commission under Lord Cowper, to inquire into land rents and\nland purchase; and another to inquire into the country's material\nresources. The two commissions were well-established ways of marking time.\nAs for Irish industries and Irish resources, a committee of the House of\nCommons had made a report in a blue book of a thousand pages only a year\nbefore. On Irish land there had been a grand commission in 1880, and a\ncommittee of the House of Lords in 1882-3. The latest Purchase Act was\nhardly yet a year old. Then to commission a general to hunt down little\nhandfuls of peasants who with blackened faces and rude firearms crept\nstealthily in the dead of night round lonely cabins in the remote\nhillsides and glens of Kerry, was hardly more sensible than it would be to\nsend a squadron of life-guards to catch pickpockets in a London slum.\n\nA question that exercised Mr. Gladstone at least as sharply as the\nproceedings of ministers, was the attitude (M129) to be taken by those who\nhad quitted him, ejected him in the short parliament of 1886, and fought\nthe election against him. We have seen how much controversy arose long\nyears before as to the question whereabouts in the House of Commons the\nPeelites should take their seats.(219) The same perplexity now confronted\nthe liberals who did not agree with Mr. Gladstone upon Irish government.\nLord Hartington wrote to him, and here is his reply:--\n\n\n _August 2, 1886._--I fully appreciate the feeling which has\n prompted your letter, and I admit the reality of the difficulties\n you describe. It is also clear, I think, that so far as title to\n places on the front opposition bench is concerned, your right to\n them is identical with ours. I am afraid, however, that I cannot\n materially contribute to relieve you from embarrassment. The\n choice of a seat is more or less the choice of a symbol; and I\n have no such acquaintance with your political views and\n intentions, as could alone enable me to judge what materials I\n have before me for making an answer to your inquiry. For my own\n part, I earnestly desire, subject to the paramount exigencies of\n the Irish question, to promote in every way the reunion of the\n liberal party; a desire in which I earnestly trust that you\n participate. And I certainly could not directly or indirectly\n dissuade you from any step which you may be inclined to take, and\n which may appear to you to have a tendency in any measure to\n promote that end.\n\n\nA singular event occurred at the end of the year (1886), that produced an\nimportant change in the relations of this group of liberals to the\ngovernment that they had placed and maintained in power. Lord Randolph,\nthe young minister who with such extraordinary rapidity had risen to\nascendency in the councils of the government, suddenly in a fatal moment\nof miscalculation or caprice resigned (Dec. 23). Political suicide is not\neasy to a man with energy and resolution, but this was one of the rare\ncases. In a situation so strangely unstable and irregular, with an\nadministration resting on the support of a section sitting on benches\nopposite, and still declaring every day that they adhered to old liberal\nprinciples and had no wish to sever old party ties, the withdrawal of Lord\nRandolph Churchill created boundless perturbation. It was one of those\nexquisite moments in which excited politicians enjoy the ineffable\nsensation that the end of the world has come. Everything seemed possible.\nLord Hartington was summoned from the shores of the Mediterranean, but\nbeing by temperament incredulous of all vast elemental convulsions, he\ntook his time. On his return he declined Lord Salisbury's offer to make\nway for him as head of the government. The glitter of the prize might have\ntempted a man of schoolboy ambition, but Lord Hartington was too\nexperienced in affairs not to know that to be head of a group that held\nthe balance was, under such equivocal circumstances, far the more\nsubstantial and commanding position of the two. Mr. Goschen's case was\ndifferent, and by taking the vacant post at the exchequer he saved the\nprime minister from the necessity of going back under Lord Randolph's\nyoke. As it happened, all this gave a shake to both of the unionist wings.\nThe ominous clouds of coercion were sailing slowly but discernibly along\nthe horizon, and this made men in the unionist camp still more restless\nand uneasy. Mr. Chamberlain, on the very day of the announcement of the\nChurchill resignation, had made a speech that was taken to hold out an\nolive branch to his old friends. Sir William Harcourt, ever holding\nstoutly in fair weather and in foul to the party ship, thought the\nbreak-up of a great political combination to be so immense an evil, as to\ncall for almost any sacrifices to prevent it. He instantly wrote to\nBirmingham to express his desire to co-operate in re-union, and in the\ncourse of a few days five members of the original liberal cabinet of 1886\nmet at his house in what was known as the Round Table Conference.(220)\n\nA letter of Mr. Gladstone's to me puts some of his views on the situation\ncreated by the retirement of Lord Randolph:--\n\n\n _Hawarden, Christmas Day, 1886._--Between Christmas services, a\n flood of cards and congratulations for the season, and many\n interesting letters, I am drowned in work to-day, having just at\n 1-1/4 P.M. ascertained what my letters _are_. So forgive me if,\n first thanking you very much for yours, I deal with some points\n rather abruptly.\n\n 1. Churchill has committed an outrage as against the Queen, and\n also the prime minister, in the method of resigning and making\n known his resignation. This, of course, they will work against\n him. 2. He is also entirely wrong in supposing that the finance\n minister has any ruling authority on the great estimates of\n defence. If he had, he would be the master of the country. But\n although he has no right to demand the concurrence of his\n colleagues in his view of the estimates, he has a rather special\n right, because these do so much towards determining budget and\n taxation, to indicate his own views by resignation. I have\n repeatedly fought estimates to the extremity, with an intention of\n resigning in _case_. But to send in a resignation makes it\n impossible for his colleagues as men of honour to recede. 3. I\n think one of his best points is that he had made before taking\n office recent and formal declarations on behalf of economy, of\n which his colleagues must be taken to have been cognisant, and\n Salisbury in particular. He may plead that he could not reduce\n these all at once to zero. 4. Cannot something be done, without\n reference to the holes that may be picked, to give him some\n support as a champion of economy? This talk about the continental\n war, I for one regard as pure nonsense when aimed at magnifying\n our estimates.\n\n 5. With regard to Hartington. What he will do I know not, and our\n wishes could have no weight with him.... The position is one of\n such difficulty for H. that I am very sorry for him, though it was\n never more true that he who makes his own bed in a certain way\n must lie in it. Chamberlain's speech hits him very hard in case of\n acceptance. I take it for granted that he will not accept to sit\n among thirteen tories, but will have to demand an entry by force,\n _i.e._ with three or four friends. To accept upon that footing\n would, I think, be the logical consequence of all he has said and\n done since April. In logic, he ought to go forward, _or_, as\n Chamberlain has done, backward. The Queen will, I have no doubt,\n be brought to bear upon him, and the nine-tenths of his order. If\n the Irish question rules all others, all he has to consider is\n whether he (properly flanked) can serve his view of the Irish\n question. But with this logic we have nothing to do. The question\n for us also is (I think), what is best for our view of the Irish\n question? I am tempted to wish that he should accept; it would\n clear the ground. But I do not yet see my way with certainty.\n\n 6. With regard to Chamberlain. From what has already passed\n between us you know that, apart from the new situation and from\n his declaration, I was very desirous that everything honourable\n should be done to conciliate and soothe. Unquestionably his speech\n is a new fact of great weight. He is again a liberal, _quand\n meme_, and will not on all points (as good old Joe Hume used to\n say) swear black is white for the sake of his views on Ireland. We\n ought not to waste this new fact, but take careful account of it.\n On the other hand, I think he will see that the moment for taking\n account of it has not come. Clearly the first thing is to see who\n are the government. When we see this, we shall also know something\n of its colour and intentions. I do not think Randolph can go back.\n He would go back at a heavy discount. If he wants to minimise, the\n only way I see is that he should isolate his vote on the\n estimates, form no _clique_, and proclaim strong support in Irish\n matters and general policy. Thus he might pave a roundabout road\n of return.... In _many_ things Goschen is more of a liberal than\n Hartington, and he would carry with him next to nobody.\n\n 7. On the whole, I rejoice to think that, come what may, this\n affair will really effect progress in the Irish question.\n\n A happy Christmas to you. It will be happier than that of the\n ministers.\n\n\nMr. Gladstone gave the Round Table his blessing, his \"general idea being\nthat he had better meddle as little as possible with the conference, and\nretain a free hand.\" Lord Hartington would neither join the conference,\nnor deny that he thought it premature. While negotiation was going on, he\nsaid, somebody must stay at home, guard the position, and keep a watch on\nthe movements of the enemy, and this duty was his. In truth, after\nencouraging or pressing Mr. (M130) Goschen to join the government, it was\nobviously impossible to do anything that would look like desertion either\nof him or of them. On the other side, both English liberals and Irish\nnationalists were equally uneasy lest the unity of the party should be\nbought by the sacrifice of fundamentals. The conference was denounced from\nthis quarter as an attempt to find a compromise that would help a few men\nsitting on the fence to salve \"their consciences at the expense of a\nnation's rights.\" Such remarks are worth quoting, to illustrate the temper\nof the rank and file. Mr. Parnell, though alive to the truth that when\npeople go into a conference it usually means that they are ready to give\nup something, was thoroughly awake to the satisfactory significance of the\nBirmingham overtures.\n\nThings at the round table for some time went smoothly enough. Mr.\nChamberlain gradually advanced the whole length. He publicly committed\nhimself to the expediency of establishing some kind of legislative\nauthority in Dublin in accordance with Mr. Gladstone's principle, with a\npreference in his own mind for a plan on the lines of Canada. This he\nfollowed up, also in public, by the admission that of course the Irish\nlegislature must be allowed to organise their own form of executive\ngovernment, either by an imitation on a small scale of all that goes on at\nWestminster and Whitehall, or in whatever other shape they might think\nproper.(221) To assent to an Irish legislature for such affairs as\nparliament might determine to be distinctively Irish, with an executive\nresponsible to it, was to accept the party credo on the subject. Then the\nsurface became mysteriously ruffled. Language was used by some of the\nplenipotentiaries in public, of which each side in turn complained as\ninconsistent with conciliatory negotiation in private. At last on the very\nday on which the provisional result of the conference was laid before Mr.\nGladstone, there appeared in a print called the _Baptist_(222) an article\nfrom Mr. Chamberlain, containing an ardent plea for the disestablishment\nof the Welsh church, but warning the Welshmen that they and the Scotch\ncrofters and the English labourers, thirty-two millions of people, must\nall go without much-needed, legislation because three millions were\ndisloyal, while nearly six hundred members of parliament would be reduced\nto forced inactivity, because some eighty delegates, representing the\npolicy and receiving the pay of the Chicago convention, were determined to\nobstruct all business until their demands had been conceded. Men naturally\nasked what was the use of continuing a discussion, when one party to it\nwas attacking in this peremptory fashion the very persons and the policy\nthat in private he was supposed to accept. Mr. Gladstone showed no\nimplacability. Viewing the actual character of the _Baptist_ letter, he\nsaid to Sir W. Harcourt, \"I am inclined to think we can hardly do more\nnow, than to say we fear it has interposed an unexpected obstacle in the\nway of any attempt at this moment to sum up the result of your\ncommunications, which we should otherwise hopefully have done; but on the\nother hand we are unwilling that so much ground apparently gained should\nbe lost, that a little time may soften or remove the present ruffling of\nthe surface, and that we are quite willing that the subject should stand\nover for resumption at a convenient season.\"\n\nThe resumption never happened. Two or three weeks later, Mr. Chamberlain\nannounced that he did not intend to return to the round table.(223) No\nother serious and formal attempt was ever made on either side to prevent\nthe liberal unionists from hardening into a separate species. When they\nbecame accomplices in coercion, they cut off the chances of re-union.\nCoercion was the key to the new situation. Just as at the beginning of\n1886, the announcement of it by the tory government marked the parting of\nthe ways, so was it now.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWe must now with reasonable cheerfulness turn our faces back towards\nIreland. On the day of his return from (M131) Ireland (August 17, 1886)\nMr. Parnell told me that he was quite sure that rents could not be paid in\nthe coming winter, and if the country was to be kept quiet, the government\nwould have to do something. He hoped that they would do something;\notherwise there would be disturbance, and that he did not want. He had\nmade up his mind that his interests would be best served by a quiet\nwinter. For one thing he knew that disturbance would be followed by\ncoercion, and he knew and often said that of course strong coercion must\nalways in the long run win the day, little as the victory might be worth.\nFor another thing he apprehended that disturbance might frighten away his\nnew political allies in Great Britain, and destroy the combination which\nhe had so dexterously built up. This was now a dominant element with him.\nHe desired definitely that the next stage of his movement should be in the\nlargest sense political and not agrarian. He brought two or three sets of\nproposals in this sense before the House, and finally produced a Tenants\nRelief bill. It was not brilliantly framed. For in truth it is not in\nhuman nature, either Irish or any other, to labour the framing of a bill\nwhich has no chance of being seriously considered.\n\nThe golden secret of Irish government was always to begin by trying to\nfind all possible points for disagreement with anything that Mr. Parnell\nsaid or proposed, instead of seeking whether what he said or proposed\nmight not furnish a basis for agreement. The conciliatory tone was soon\nover, and the Parnell bill was thrown out. The Irish secretary denounced\nit as permanently upsetting the settlement of 1881, as giving a death-blow\nto purchase, and as produced without the proof of any real grounds for a\ngeneral reduction in judicial rents. Whatever else he did, said Sir\nMichael Hicks Beach, he would never agree to govern Ireland by a policy of\nblackmail.(224)\n\nA serious movement followed the failure of the government to grapple with\narrears of rent. The policy known as the plan of campaign was launched.\nThe plan of campaign was this. The tenants of a given estate agreed with\none another what abatement they thought just in the current half-year's\nrent. This in a body they proffered to landlord or agent. If it was\nrefused as payment in full, they handed the money to a managing committee,\nand the committee deposited it with some person in whom they had\nconfidence, to be used for the purpose of the struggle.(225) That such\nproceeding constituted an unlawful conspiracy nobody doubts, any more than\nit can be doubted that before the Act of 1875 every trade combination of a\nlike kind in this island was a conspiracy.\n\nAt an early stage the Irish leader gave his opinion to the present\nwriter:--\n\n\n _Dec. 7, 1886._--Mr. Parnell called, looking very ill and worn. He\n wished to know what I thought of the effect of the plan of\n campaign upon public opinion. \"If you mean in Ireland,\" I said,\n \"of course I have no view, and it would be worth nothing if I had.\n In England, the effect is wholly bad; it offends almost more even\n than outrages.\" He said he had been very ill and had taken no\n part, so that he stands free and uncommitted. He was anxious to\n have it fully understood that the fixed point in his tactics is to\n maintain the alliance with the English liberals. He referred with\n much bitterness, and very justifiable too, to the fact that when\n Ireland seemed to be quiet some short time back, the government\n had at once begun to draw away from all their promises of remedial\n legislation. If now rents were paid, meetings abandoned, and\n newspapers moderated, the same thing would happen over again as\n usual. However, he would send for a certain one of his\n lieutenants, and would press for an immediate cessation of the\n violent speeches.\n\n _December 12._--Mr. Parnell came, and we had a prolonged\n conversation. The lieutenant had come over, and had defended the\n plan of campaign. Mr. Parnell persevered in his dissent and\n disapproval, and they parted with the understanding that the\n meetings should be dropped, and the movement calmed as much as\n could be. I told him that I had heard from Mr. Gladstone, and that\n he could not possibly show any tolerance for illegalities.\n\n\nThat his opponents should call upon Mr. Gladstone to denounce the plan of\ncampaign and cut himself off from its authors, was to be expected. They\nmade the most of it. (M132) But he was the last man to be turned aside\nfrom the prosecution of a policy that he deemed of overwhelming moment, by\nany minor currents. Immediately after the election, Mr. Parnell had been\ninformed of his view that it would be a mistake for English and Irish to\naim at uniform action in parliament. Motives could not be at all points\nthe same. Liberals were bound to keep in view (next to what the Irish\nquestion might require) the reunion of the liberal party. The Irish were\nbound to have special regard to the opinion and circumstances of Ireland.\nCommon action up to a certain degree would arise from the necessities of\nthe position. Such was Mr. Gladstone's view. He was bent on bringing a\nrevolutionary movement to what he confidently anticipated would be a good\nend; to allow a passing phase of that movement to divert him, would be to\nabandon his own foundations. No reformer is fit for his task who suffers\nhimself to be frightened off by the excesses of an extreme wing.\n\nIn reply to my account of the conversation with Mr. Parnell, he wrote to\nme:--\n\n\n _Hawarden, December 8, 1886._--I have received your very clear\n statement and reply in much haste for the post--making the same\n request as yours for a return. I am glad to find the ---- speech is\n likely to be neutralised, I hope effectually. It was really very\n bad. I am glad you write to ----. 2. As to the campaign in Ireland,\n I do not at present feel the force of Hartington's appeal to me to\n speak out. I do not recollect that he ever spoke out about\n Churchill, of whom he is for the time the enthusiastic\n follower.(226) 3. But all I say and do must be kept apart from the\n slightest countenance direct or indirect to illegality. We too\n suffer under the power of the landlord, but we cannot adopt this\n as a method of breaking it. 4. I am glad you opened the question\n of intermediate measures.... 5. Upon the whole I suppose he sees\n he cannot have countenance from us in the plan of campaign. The\n question rather is how much disavowal. I have contradicted a tory\n figment in Glasgow that I had approved.\n\n\nAt a later date (September 16, 1887) he wrote to me as to an intended\nspeech at Newcastle: \"You will, I have no doubt, press even more earnestly\nthan before on the Irish people the duty and policy of maintaining order,\nand in these instances I shall be very glad if you will associate me with\nyourself.\"\n\n\"The plan of campaign,\" said Mr. Gladstone, \"was one of those devices that\ncannot be reconciled with the principles of law and order in a civilised\ncountry. Yet we all know that such devices are the certain result of\nmisgovernment. With respect to this particular instance, if the plan be\nblameable (I cannot deny that I feel it difficult to acquit any such plan)\nI feel its authors are not one-tenth part so blameable as the government\nwhose contemptuous refusal of what they have now granted, was the parent\nand source of the mischief.\"(227) This is worth looking at.\n\nThe Cowper Commission, in February 1887, reported that refusal by some\nlandlords explained much that had occurred in the way of combination, and\nthat the growth of these combinations had been facilitated by the fall in\nprices, restriction of credit by the banks, and other circumstances making\nthe payment of rent impossible.(228) Remarkable evidence was given by Sir\nRedvers Buller. He thought there should be some means of modifying and\nredressing the grievance of rents being still higher than the people can\npay. \"You have got a very ignorant poor people, and the law should look\nafter them, instead of which it has only looked after the rich.\"(229) This\nwas exactly what Mr. Parnell had said. In the House the government did not\nbelieve him; in Ireland they admitted his case to be true. In one instance\nGeneral Buller wrote to the agents of the estate that he believed it was\nimpossible for the tenants to pay the rent that was demanded; there might\nbe five or six rogues among them, but in his opinion the greater number of\nthem were nearer famine than paying rent.(230) In this very case ruthless\nevictions followed. The same scenes were enacted elsewhere. The landlords\nwere within their rights, the courts were bound by the law, the police had\nno choice but to back (M133) the courts. The legal ease was complete. The\nmoral case remained, and it was through these barbarous scenes that in a\nrough and non-logical way the realities of the Irish land system for the\nfirst time gained access to the minds of the electors of Great Britain.\nSuch devices as the plan of campaign came to be regarded in England and\nScotland as what they were, incidents in a great social struggle. In a\nvast majority of cases the mutineers succeeded in extorting a reduction of\nrent, not any more immoderate than the reduction voluntarily made by good\nlandlords, or decreed in the land-courts. No agrarian movement in Ireland\nwas ever so unstained by crime.\n\nSome who took part in these affairs made no secret of political motives.\nUnlike Mr. Parnell, they deliberately desired to make government\ndifficult. Others feared that complete inaction would give an opening to\nthe Fenian extremists. This section had already shown some signs both of\ntheir temper and their influence in certain proceedings of the Gaelic\nassociation at Thurles. But the main spring was undoubtedly agrarian, and\nthe force of the spring came from mischiefs that ministers had refused to\nface in time. \"What they call a conspiracy now,\" said one of the insurgent\nleaders, \"they will call an Act of parliament next year.\" So it turned\nout.\n\nThe Commission felt themselves \"constrained to recommend an earlier\nrevision of judicial rents, on account of the straitened circumstances of\nIrish farmers.\" What the commissioners thus told ministers in the spring\nwas exactly what the Irish leader had told them in the previous autumn.\nThey found that there were \"real grounds\" for some legislation of the kind\nthat the chief secretary, unconscious of what his cabinet was so rapidly\nto come to, had stigmatised as the policy of blackmail.\n\nOn the last day of March 1887, the government felt the necessity of\nintroducing a measure based on facts that they had disputed, and on\nprinciples that they had repudiated. Leaseholders were admitted, some\nhundred thousand of them. That is, the more solemn of the forms of\nagrarian contract were set aside. Other provisions we may pass over. But\nthis was not the bill to which the report of the Commission pointed. The\npith of that report was the revision and abatement of judicial rents, and\nfrom the new bill this vital point was omitted. It could hardly have been\notherwise after a curt declaration made by the prime minister in the\nprevious August. \"We do not contemplate any revision of judicial rents,\"\nhe said--immediately, by the way, after appointing a commission to find out\nwhat it was that they ought to contemplate. \"We do not think it would be\nhonest in the first place, and we think it would be exceedingly\ninexpedient.\"(231) He now repeated that to interfere with judicial rents\nbecause prices had fallen, would be to \"lay your axe to the root of the\nfabric of civilised society.\"(232) Before the bill was introduced, Mr.\nBalfour, who had gone to the Irish office on the retirement of Sir M. H.\nBeach in the month of March, proclaimed in language even more fervid, that\nit would be folly and madness to break these solemn contracts.(233)\n\nFor that matter, the bill even as it first stood was in direct\ncontravention to all such high doctrine as this, inasmuch as it clothed a\ncourt with power to vary solemn contracts by fixing a composition for\noutstanding debt, and spreading the payment of it over such a time as the\njudge might think fit. That, however, was the least part of what finally\novertook the haughty language of the month of April. In May the government\naccepted a proposal that the court should not only settle the sum due by\nan applicant for relief for outstanding debt, but should fix a reasonable\nrent for the rest of the term. This was the very power of variation that\nministers had, as it were only the day before, so roundly denounced. But\nthen the tenants in Ulster were beginning to growl. In June ministers\nwithdrew the power of variation, for now it was the landlords who were\ngrowling. Then at last in July the prime minister called his party\ntogether, and told them that if the bill were not altered, Ulster would be\nlost to the unionist cause, and that after all he must put into the bill a\ngeneral revision of judicial rents for three years. So finally, as it was\nput by a speaker of that time, (M134) you have the prime minister\nrejecting in April the policy which in May he accepts; rejecting in June\nthe policy which he had accepted in May; and then in July accepting the\npolicy which he had rejected in June, and which had been within a few\nweeks declared by himself and his colleagues to be inexpedient and\ndishonest, to be madness and folly, and to be a laying of the axe to the\nvery root of the fabric of civilised society. The simplest recapitulation\nmade the bitterest satire.\n\nThe law that finally emerged from these singular operations dealt, it will\nbe observed in passing, with nothing less than the chief object of Irish\nindustry and the chief form of Irish property. No wonder that the\nlandlords lifted up angry voices. True, the minister the year before had\nlaid it down that if rectification of rents should be proved necessary,\nthe landlords ought to be compensated by the state. Of this consolatory\nbalm it is needless to say no more was ever heard; it was only a graceful\nsentence in a speech, and proved to have little relation to purpose or\nintention. At the Kildare Street club in Dublin members moodily asked one\nanother whether they might not just as well have had the policy of Mr.\nParnell's bill adopted on College Green, as adopted at Westminster.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe moment had by this time once more come for testing the proposition\nfrom which Mr. Gladstone's policy had first started. The tory government\nhad been turned out at the beginning of 1886 upon coercion, and Mr.\nGladstone's government had in the summer of that year been beaten upon\nconciliation. \"I ventured to state in 1886,\" said Mr. Gladstone a year\nlater,(234) \"that we had arrived at the point where two roads met, or\nrather where two roads parted; one of them the road that marked the\nendeavour to govern Ireland according to its constitutionally expressed\nwishes; the other the road principally marked by ultra-constitutional\nmeasures, growing more and more pronounced in character.\" Others, he said,\nwith whom we had been in close alliance down to that date, considered that\na third course was open, namely liberal concession, stopping short of\nautonomy, but upon a careful avoidance of coercion. Now it became visible\nthat this was a mistake, and that in default of effective conciliation,\ncoercion was the inevitable alternative. So it happened.\n\nThe government again unlocked the ancient armoury, and brought out the\nwell-worn engines. The new Crimes bill in most particulars followed the\nold Act, but it contained one or two serious extensions, including a\nclause afterwards dropped, that gave to the crown a choice in cases of\nmurder or certain other aggravated offences of carrying the prisoner out\nof his own country over to England and trying him before a Middlesex jury\nat the Old Bailey--a puny imitation of the heroic expedient suggested in\n1769, of bringing American rebels over for trial in England under a\nslumbering statute of King Henry VIII. The most startling innovation of\nall was that the new Act was henceforth to be the permanent law of\nIreland, and all its drastic provisions were to be brought into force\nwhenever the executive government pleased.(235) This Act was not\nrestricted as every former law of the kind had been in point of time, to\nmeet an emergency; it was made a standing instrument of government.\nCriminal law and procedure is one of the most important of all the\nbranches of civil rule, and certainly is one of the most important of all\nits elements. This was now in Ireland to shift up and down, to be one\nthing to-day and another thing to-morrow at executive discretion. Acts\nwould be innocent or would be crimes, just as it pleased the Irish\nminister. Parliament did not enact that given things were criminal, but\nonly that they should be criminal when an Irish minister should choose to\nsay so.(236) Persons charged with them would have the benefit of a jury or\nwould be deprived of a jury, as the Irish minister might think proper.\n\n(M135) Mr. Parnell was in bad health and took little part, but he made\nmore than one pulverising attack in that measured and frigid style which,\nin a man who knows his case at first hand, may be so much more awkward for\na minister than more florid onslaughts. He discouraged obstruction, and\nadvised his followers to select vital points and to leave others alone.\nThis is said to have been the first Coercion bill that a majority of Irish\nmembers voting opposed.\n\nIt was at this point that the government suddenly introduced their\nhistoric proposal for closure by guillotine. They carried (June 10) a\nresolution that at ten o'clock on that day week the committee stage should\nbe brought compulsorily to an end, and that any clauses remaining\nundisposed of should be put forthwith without amendment or debate. The\nmost remarkable innovation upon parliamentary rule and practice since\nCromwell and Colonel Pride, was introduced by Mr. Smith in a\ncharacteristic speech, well larded with phrases about duty, right,\nresponsibility, business of the country, and efficiency of the House.\nThese solemnising complacencies' did not hide the mortifying fact that if\nit had really been one of the objects of Irish members for ten years past\nto work a revolution in the parliament where they were forced against\ntheir will to sit, they had at least, be such a revolution good or bad,\nsucceeded in their design.\n\nPerhaps looking forward with prophetic eye to a day that actually arrived\nsix years later, Mr. Gladstone, while objecting to the proposal as\nunjustified, threw the responsibility of it upon the government, and used\nnone of the flaming colours of defiance. The bulk of the liberals\nabstained from the division. This practical accord between the two sets of\nleading men made the parliamentary revolution definite and finally\nclenched it. It was not without something of a funereal pang that members\nwith a sense of the old traditions of the power, solemnity, and honour of\nthe House of Commons came down on the evening of the seventeenth of June.\nWithin a week they would be celebrating the fiftieth year of the reign of\nthe Queen, and that night's business was the strange and unforeseen goal\nat which a journey of little more than the same period of time along the\nhigh, democratic road had brought the commonalty of the realm since 1832.\nAmong the provisions that went into the bill without any discussion in\ncommittee were those giving to the Irish executive the power of stamping\nan association as unlawful; those dealing with special juries and change\nof the place of trial; those specifying the various important conditions\nattaching to proclamations, which lay at the foundation of the Act; those\ndealing with rules, procedure, and the limits of penalty. The report next\nfell under what Burke calls the accursed slider. That stage had taken\nthree sittings, when the government moved (June 30) that it must close in\nfour days. So much grace, however, was not needed; for after the motion\nhad been carried the liberals withdrew from the House, and the Irishmen\nbetook themselves to the galleries, whence they looked down upon the\nmechanical proceedings below.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIn Ireland the battle now began in earnest. The Irish minister went into\nit with intrepid logic. Though very different men in the deeper parts of\ncharacter, Macaulay's account of Halifax would not be an ill-natured\naccount of Mr. Balfour. \"His understanding was keen, sceptical,\ninexhaustibly fertile in distinctions and objections, his taste refined,\nhis sense of the ludicrous exquisite; his temper placid and forgiving, but\nfastidious, and by no means prone either to malevolence or to enthusiastic\nadmiration.\" His business was to show disaffected Ireland that parliament\nwas her master. Parliament had put the weapon into his hands, and it was\nfor him to smite his antagonists to the ground. He made no experiments in\njudicious mixture, hard blows and soft speech, but held steadily to force\nand fear. His apologists argued that after all substantial justice was\ndone even in what seemed hard cases, and even if the spirit of law were\nsometimes a trifle strained. Unluckily the peasant with the blunderbuss,\nas he waits behind the hedge for the tyrant or the traitor, says just the\nsame. The forces of disorder were infinitely less formidable than they had\nbeen a hundred times before. The contest was child's play compared with\n(M136) the violence and confusion with which Mr. Forster or Lord Spencer\nhad to deal. On the other hand the alliance between liberals and Irish\ngave to the struggle a parliamentary complexion, by which no coercion\nstruggle had ever been marked hitherto. In the dialectic of senate and\nplatform, Mr. Balfour displayed a strength of wrist, a rapidity, an\ninstant readiness for combat, that took his foes by surprise, and roused\nin his friends a delight hardly surpassed in the politics of our day.\n\nThere was another important novelty this time. To England hitherto Irish\ncoercion had been little more than a word of common form, used without any\nthought what the thing itself was like to the people coerced. Now it was\ndifferent. Coercion had for once become a flaming party issue, and when\nthat happens all the world awakes. Mr. Gladstone had proclaimed that the\nchoice lay between conciliation and coercion. The country would have liked\nconciliation, but did not trust his plan. When coercion came, the two\nBritish parties rushed to their swords, and the deciding body of neutrals\nlooked on with anxiety and concern. There has never been a more\nstrenuously sustained contest in the history of political campaigns. No\neffort was spared to bring the realities of repression vividly home to the\njudgment and feelings of men and women of our own island. English visitors\ntrooped over to Ireland, and brought back stories of rapacious landlords,\nviolent police, and famishing folk cast out homeless upon the wintry\nroadside. Irishmen became the most welcome speakers on British platforms,\nand for the first time in all our history they got a hearing for their\nlamentable tale. To English audiences it was as new and interesting as the\nnarrative of an African explorer or a navigator in the Pacific. Our Irish\ninstructors even came to the curious conclusion that ordinary\ninternational estimates must be revised, and that Englishmen are in truth\nfar more emotional than Irishmen. Ministerial speakers, on the other hand,\ndiligently exposed inaccuracy here or over-colouring there. They appealed\nto the English distaste for disorder, and to the English taste for\nmastery, and they did not overlook the slumbering jealousy of popery and\npriestcraft. But the course of affairs was too rapid for them, the strong\nharsh doses to the Irish patient were too incessant. The Irish convictions\nin cases where the land was concerned rose to 2805, and of these rather\nover one-half were in cases where in England the rights of the prisoner\nwould have been guarded by a jury. The tide of common popular feeling in\nthis island about the right to combine, the right of public meeting, the\nfrequent barbarities of eviction, the jarring indignities of prison\ntreatment, flowed stronger and stronger. The general impression spread\nmore and more widely that the Irish did not have fair play, that they were\nnot being treated about speeches and combination and meetings as\nEnglishmen or Scotchmen would be treated. Even in breasts that had been\nmost incensed by the sudden reversal of policy in 1886, the feeling slowly\ngrew that it was perhaps a pity after all that Mr. Gladstone had not been\nallowed to persevere on the fair-shining path of conciliation.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nThe proceedings under exceptional law would make an instructive chapter in\nthe history of the union. Mr. Gladstone followed them vigilantly, once or\ntwice without his usual exercise of critical faculty, but always bringing\ninto effective light the contrast between this squalid policy and his\nanticipations of his own. Here we are only concerned with what affected\nBritish opinion on the new policy. One set of distressing incidents, not\nconnected with the Crimes Act, created disgust and even horror in the\ncountry and set Mr. Gladstone on fire. A meeting of some six thousand\npersons assembled in a large public square at Mitchelstown in the county\nof Cork.(237) It was a good illustration of Mr. Gladstone's habitual\nstrategy in public movements, that he should have boldly and promptly\nseized on the doings at Mitchelstown as an incident well fitted to arrest\nthe attention of the country. \"Remember Mitchelstown\" became a watchword.\nThe chairman, speaking from a carriage that did duty for a platform,\nopened the proceedings. Then a file of police endeavoured to force a way\nthrough the densest part of the (M137) crowd for a government note-taker.\nWhy they did not choose an easier mode of approach from the rear, or by\nthe side; why they had not got their reporter on to the platform before\nthe business began; and why they had not beforehand asked for\naccommodation as was the practice, were three points never explained. The\npolice unable to make a way through the crowd retired to the outskirt. The\nmeeting went on. In a few minutes a larger body of police pressed up\nthrough the thick of the throng to the platform. A violent struggle began,\nthe police fighting their way through the crowd with batons and clubbed\nrifles. The crowd flung stones and struck out with sticks, and after three\nor four minutes the police fled to their barracks--some two hundred and\nfifty yards away. So far there is no material discrepancy in the various\nversions of this dismal story. What followed is matter of conflicting\ntestimony. One side alleged that a furious throng rushed after the police,\nattacked the barrack, and half murdered a constable outside, and that the\nconstables inside in order to save their comrade and to beat off the\nassailing force, opened fire from an upper window. The other side declared\nthat no crowd followed the retreating police at all, that the assault on\nthe barrack was a myth, and that the police fired without orders from any\nresponsible officer, in mere blind panic and confusion. One old man was\nshot dead, two others were mortally wounded and died within a week.\n\nThree days later the affray was brought before the House of Commons. Any\none could see from the various reports that the conduct of the police, the\nresistance of the crowd, and the guilt or justification of the bloodshed,\nwere all matters in the utmost doubt and demanding rigorous inquiry. Mr.\nBalfour pronounced instant and peremptory judgment. The thing had happened\non the previous Friday. The official report, however rapidly prepared,\ncould not have reached him until the morning of Sunday. His officers at\nthe Castle had had no opportunity of testing their official report by\ncross-examination of the constables concerned, nor by inspection of the\nbarrack, the line of fire, and other material elements of the case. Yet on\nthe strength of this hastily drawn and unsifted report received by him\nfrom Ireland on Sunday, and without even waiting for any information that\neye-witnesses in the House might have to lay before him in the course of\nthe discussion, the Irish minister actually told parliament once for all,\non the afternoon of Monday, that he was of opinion, \"looking at the matter\nin the most impartial spirit, that the police were in no way to blame, and\nthat no responsibility rested upon any one except upon those who convened\nthe meeting under circumstances which they knew would lead to excitement\nand might lead to outrage.\"(238) The country was astounded to see the most\ncritical mind in all the House swallow an untested police report whole; to\nhear one of the best judges in all the country of the fallibility of human\ntestimony, give offhand, in what was really a charge of murder, a verdict\nof Not Guilty, after he had read the untested evidence on one side.\n\nThe rest was all of a piece. The coroner's inquest was held in due course.\nThe proceedings were not more happily conducted than was to be expected\nwhere each side followed the counsels of ferocious exasperation. The jury,\nafter some seventeen days of it, returned a verdict of wilful murder\nagainst the chief police officer and five of his men. This inquisition was\nafterwards quashed (February 10, 1888) in the Queen's bench, on the ground\nthat the coroner had perpetrated certain irregularities of form. Nobody\nhas doubted that the Queen's bench was right; it seemed as if there had\nbeen a conspiracy of all the demons of human stupidity in this tragic\nbungle, from the first forcing of the reporter through the crowd, down to\nthe inquest on the three slain men and onwards. The coroner's inquest\nhaving broken down, reasonable opinion demanded that some other public\ninquiry should be held. Even supporters of the government demanded it. If\nthree men had been killed by the police in connection with a public\nmeeting in England or Scotland, no home secretary would have dreamed for\nfive minutes of resisting such a demand. Instead of a public inquiry, what\nthe chief secretary did was to appoint a (M138) confidential departmental\ncommittee of policemen privately to examine, not whether the firing was\njustified by the circumstances, but how it came about that the police were\nso handled by their officers that a large force was put to flight by a\ndisorderly mob. The three deaths were treated as mere accident and\nirrelevance. The committee was appointed to correct the discipline of the\nforce, said the Irish minister, and in no sense to seek justification for\nactions which, in his opinion, required no justification.(239) Endless\nspeeches were made in the House and out of it; members went over to\nMitchelstown to measure distances, calculate angles, and fire imaginary\nrifles out of the barrack window; all sorts of theories of ricochet shots\nwere invented, photographs and diagrams were taken. Some held the police\nto be justified, others held them to be wholly unjustified. But without a\njudicial inquiry, such as had been set up in the case of Belfast in 1886,\nall these doings were futile. The government remained stubborn. The\nslaughter of the three men was finally left just as if it had been the\nslaughter of three dogs. No other incident of Irish administration stirred\ndeeper feelings of disgust in Ireland, or of misgiving and indignation in\nEngland.\n\nHere was, in a word, the key to the new policy. Every act of Irish\nofficials was to be defended. No constable could be capable of excess. No\nmagistrate could err. No prison rule was over harsh. Every severity\ntechnically in order must be politic.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nAmong other remarkable incidents, the Pope came to the rescue, and sent an\nemissary to inquire into Irish affairs. The government had lively hopes of\nthe emissary, and while they beat the Orange drum in Ulster with one hand,\nwith the other they stealthily twitched the sleeve of Monsignor Persico.\nIt came to little. The Congregation at Rome were directed by the Pope to\nexamine whether it was lawful to resort to the plan of campaign. They\nanswered that it was contrary both to natural justice and Christian\ncharity. The papal rescript, embodying this conclusion, was received in\nIreland with little docility. Unwisely the cardinals had given reasons,\nand the reasons, instead of springing in the mystic region of faith and\nmorals, turned upon issues of fact as to fair rents. But then the Irish\ntenant thought himself a far better judge of a fair rent, than all the\ncardinals that ever wore red hats. If he had heard of such a thing as\nJansenism, he would have known that he was in his own rude way taking up a\nposition not unlike that of the famous teachers of Port Royal two hundred\nand thirty years before, that the authority of the Holy See is final as to\ndoctrine, but may make a mistake as to fact.\n\nMr. Parnell spoke tranquilly of \"a document from a distant country,\" and\npublicly left the matter to his catholic countrymen.(240) Forty catholic\nmembers of parliament met at the Mansion House in Dublin, and signed a\ndocument in which they flatly denied every one of the allegations and\nimplications about fair rents, free contract, the land commission and all\nthe rest, and roundly declared the Vatican circular to be an instrument of\nthe unscrupulous foes both of the Holy See and of the people of Ireland.\nThey told the Pope, that while recognising unreservedly as catholics the\nspiritual jurisdiction of the Holy See, they were bound solemnly to affirm\nthat Irish catholics recognise no rights in Rome to interfere in their\npolitical affairs. A great meeting in the Phoenix Park ratified the same\nposition by acclamation. At Cork, under the presidency of the mayor, and\njealously watched by forces of horse and foot, a great gathering in a\nscene of indescribable excitement protested that they would never allow\nthe rack-renters of Ireland to grind them down at the instigation of\nintriguers at Rome. Even in many cities in the United States the same\nvoice was heard. The bishops knew well that the voice was strongly marked\nby the harsh accent of their Fenian adversaries. They issued a declaration\nof their own, protesting to their flocks that the rescript was confined\nwithin the spiritual sphere, and that his holiness was far from wishing to\nprejudice the nationalist movement. In the closing week of the year, the\nPope himself judged that the time had come for him to make known (M139)\nthat the action which had been \"so sadly misunderstood,\" had been prompted\nby the desire to keep the cause in which Ireland was struggling from being\nweakened by the introduction of anything that could justly be brought in\nreproach against it.(241) The upshot of the intervention was that the\naction condemned by the rescript was not materially affected within the\narea already disturbed; but the rescript may have done something to\nprevent its extension elsewhere.\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nAmong the entries for 1887 there occur:--\n\n\n _Sandringham, Jan. 29._--A large party. We were received with the\n usual delicacy and kindness. Much conversation with the Prince of\n Wales.... Walk with ----, who charmed me much. _Jan. 31._--Off by 11\n A.M. to Cambridge.... Dined with the master of Trinity in hall.\n Went over the Newnham buildings: greatly pleased. Saw Mr.\n Sidgwick. Evening service at King's.... _Feb. 2._--Hawarden at\n 5.30. Set to work on papers. Finished Greville's Journals. _Feb.\n 3._--Wrote on Greville. _Feb. 5._--Felled a chestnut. _Feb.\n 27._--Read Lord Shaftesbury's _Memoirs_--an excellent discipline for\n me. _March 5._-- Dollis Hill [a house near Willesden often lent to\n him in these times by Lord and Lady Aberdeen] a refuge from my\n timidity, unwilling at 77 to begin a new London house. _March\n 9._--Windsor [to dine and sleep]. The Queen courteous as always;\n somewhat embarrassed, as I thought. _March 29._--Worked on Homer,\n Apollo, etc. Then turned to the Irish business and revolved much,\n with extreme difficulty in licking the question into shape. Went\n to the House and spoke 1-1/2 hours as carefully and with as much\n measure as I could. Conclave on coming course of business. _April\n 5._--Conversation with Mr. Chamberlain--ambiguous result, but some\n ground made. _April 18._--H. of C. 4-1/2-8-1/4 and 10-2. Spoke 1-1/4 h.\n My voice did its duty but with great effort. _April 25._--Spoke for\n an hour upon the budget. R. Churchill excellent. Conclave on the\n forged letters. _May 4._--Read earlier speeches of yesterday with\n care, and worked up the subject of Privilege. Spoke 1-1/4 h.\n\n\nIn June (1887) Mr. Gladstone started on a political campaign in South\nWales, where his reception was one of the most triumphant in all his\ncareer. Ninety-nine hundredths of the vast crowds who gave up wages for\nthe sake of seeing him and doing him honour were strong protestants, yet\nhe said to a correspondent, \"they made this demonstration in order to\nsecure firstly and mainly justice to catholic Ireland. It is not after all\na bad country in which such things take place.\"\n\nIt was at Swansea that he said what he had to say about the Irish members.\nHe had never at any time from the hour when he formed his government, set\nup their exclusion as a necessary condition of home rule. All that he ever\nbargained for was that no proposal for inclusion should be made a ground\nfor impairing real and effective self-government. Subject to this he was\nready to adjourn the matter and to leave things as they were, until\nexperience should show the extent of the difficulty and the best way of\nmeeting it. Provisional exclusion had been suggested by a member of great\nweight in the party in 1886. The new formula was provisional inclusion.\nThis announcement restored one very distinguished adherent to Mr.\nGladstone, and it appeased the clamour of the busy knot who called\nthemselves imperial federationists. Of course it opened just as many new\ndifficulties as it closed old ones, but both old difficulties and new fell\ninto the background before the struggle in Ireland.\n\n\n _June 2, 1887._--Off at 11.40. A tumultuous but interesting journey\n to Swansea and Singleton, where we were landed at 7.30. Half a\n dozen speeches on the way. A small party to dinner. 3.--A \"quiet\n day.\" Wrote draft to the associations on the road, as model. Spent\n the forenoon in settling plans and discussing the lines of my\n meditated statement to-morrow with Sir Hussey Vivian, Lord\n Aberdare, and Mr. Stuart Rendel. In the afternoon we went to the\n cliffs and the Mumbles, and I gave some hours to writing\n preliminary notes on a business where all depends on the manner of\n handling. Small party to dinner. Read Cardiff and Swansea guides.\n 4.--More study and notes. 12-4-1/2 the astonishing procession. Sixty\n thousand! Then spoke for near an hour. Dinner at 8, near an\n hundred, arrangements perfect. Spoke for nearly another hour; got\n through a most difficult business as well as I could expect.\n 5.--Church 11 A.M., notable sermon and H. C. (service long), again\n 6-1/2 P.M., good sermon. Wrote to Sir W. Harcourt, Mr. Morley, etc.\n Walked in the garden. Considered the question of a non-political\n address \"in council\"; we all decided against it. 6.--Surveys in the\n house, then 12-4 to Swansea for the freedom and opening the town\n library. I was rather jealous of a non-political affair at such a\n time, but could not do less than speak for thirty or thirty-five\n minutes for the two occasions. 4-8 to Park Farm, the beautiful\n vales, breezy common and the curious chambered cairn. Small\n dinner-party. 7.--Off at 8.15 and a hard day to London, the\n occasion of processions, hustles, and speeches; that at Newport in\n the worst atmosphere known since the Black Hole. Poor C. too was\n an invalid. Spoke near an hour to 3000 at Cardiff; about 1/4 hour at\n Newport; more briefly at Gloucester and Swindon. Much enthusiasm\n even in the English part of the journey. Our party was reduced at\n Newport to the family, at Gloucester to our two selves. C. H.\n Terrace at 6.20. Wrote to get off the House of Commons. It has\n really been a \"progress,\" and an extraordinary one.\n\n\nIn December 1887, under the pressing advice of his physician, though \"with\na great lazy reluctance,\" Mr. Gladstone set his face with a family party\ntowards Florence. He found the weather more northern than at Hawarden, but\nit was healthy. He was favourably impressed by all he saw of Italian\nsociety (English being cultivated to a degree that surprised him), but he\ndid his best to observe Sir Andrew Clark's injunction that he should\npractise the Trappist discipline of silence, and the condition of his\nvoice improved in consequence. He read Scartazzini's book on Dante, and\nfound it fervid, generally judicial, and most unsparing in labour; and he\nwas much interested in Beugnot's _Chute du Paganisme_. And as usual, he\nreturned homeward as unwillingly as he had departed. During the session he\nfought his Irish battle with unsparing tenacity, and the most conspicuous\npiece of his activity out of parliament was a pilgrimage to Birmingham\n(November 1888). It was a great gathering of lieutenants and leading\nsupporters from, every part of the country. Here is a note of mine:--\n\n\n On the day of the great meeting in Bingley Hall, somebody came to\n say that Mr. Gladstone wanted to know if I could supply him with a\n certain passage from a speech of Lord Hartington's. I found him in\n his dressing-gown, conning his notes and as lively as youth. He\n jumped up and pressed point after point on me, as if I had been a\n great public meeting. I offered to go down to the public library\n and hunt for the passage; he deprecated this, but off I went, and\n after some search unearthed the passage, and copied it out. In the\n evening I went to dine with him before the meeting. He had been\n out for a short walk to the Oratory in the afternoon to call on\n Cardinal Newman. He was not allowed, he told me, to see the\n cardinal, but he had had a long talk with Father Neville. He found\n that Newman was in the habit of reading with a reflector candle,\n but had not a good one. \"So I said I had a good one, and I sent it\n round to him.\" He was entirely disengaged in mind during dinner,\n ate and drank his usual quantity, and talked at his best about all\n manner of things. At the last moment he was telling us of John\n Hunter's confirmation, from his own medical observation, of\n Homer's remark about Dolon; a bad fellow, whose badness Homer\n explains by the fact that he was a brother brought up among\n sisters only:--\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH YPOGEGRAMMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}.(242)\n\n Oliver Cromwell, by the way, was an only surviving boy among seven\n sisters, so we cannot take either poet or surgeon for gospel. Time\n was up, and bore us away from Homer and Hunter. He was perfectly\n silent in the carriage, as I remembered Bright had been when years\n before I drove with him to the same hall. The sight of the vast\n meeting was almost appalling, from fifteen to seventeen thousand\n people. He spoke with great vigour and freedom; the fine passages\n probably heard all over; many other passages certainly not heard,\n but his gestures so strong and varied as to be almost as\n interesting as the words would have been. The speech lasted an\n hour and fifty minutes; and he was not at all exhausted when he\n sat down. The scene at the close was absolutely indescribable and\n incomparable, overwhelming like the sea.\n\n\nHe took part in parliamentary business at the beginning of December. On\nDecember 3rd he spoke on Ireland with immense fervour and passion. He was\nroused violently by the chairman's attempt to rule out strong language\nfrom debate, and made a vehement passage on that point. The substance of\nthe speech was rather thin and not new, but the delivery magnificent. The\nIrish minister rose to reply at 7.50, and Mr. Gladstone reluctantly made\nup his mind to dine in the House. A friend by his side said No, and at\n8.40 hurried him down the back-stairs to a hospitable board in Carlton\nGardens. He was nearly voiceless, until it was time for the rest of us to\ngo back. A speedy meal revived him, and he was soon discoursing on\nO'Connell and many other persons and things, with boundless force and\nvivacity.\n\nA few days later he was carried off to Naples. Hereto, he told Lord Acton,\n\"we have been induced by three circumstances. First, a warm invitation\nfrom the Dufferins to Rome; as to which, however, there are _cons_ as well\nas _pros_ for a man who like me is neither Italian nor Curial in the view\nof present policies. Secondly, our kind friend Mr. Stuart Rendel has\nactually offered to be our conductor thither and back, to perform for us\nthe great service which you rendered us in the trip to Munich and Saint\nMartin. Thirdly, I have the hope that the stimulating climate of Naples,\ntogether with an abstention from speech greater than any I have before\nenjoyed, may act upon my 'vocal cord,' and partially at least restore it.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter III. The Special Commission. (1887-1890)\n\n\n My Lords, it appears to me that the measure is unfortunate in its\n origin, unfortunate in its scope and object, and unfortunate in\n the circumstances which accompanied its passage through the other\n House. It appears to me to establish a precedent most novel, and\n fraught with the utmost danger.--LORD HERSCHELL.(243)\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nMr. Gladstone's ceaseless attention to the many phases of the struggle\nthat was now the centre of his public life, was especially engaged on what\nremains the most amazing of them. I wish it were possible to pass it over,\nor throw it into a secondary place; but it is too closely connected with\nthe progress of Mr. Gladstone's Irish policy in British opinion at a\ncritical stage, and it is still the subject of too many perversions that\naffect his name. Transactions are to be found in our annals where wrong\nwas done by government to individuals on a greater scale, where a powerful\nmajority devised engines for the proscription of a weak minority with\ndeadlier aim, and where the omnipotence of parliament was abused for the\npurpose of faction with more ruthless result. But whether we look at the\nsqualid fraud in which the incident began, or at the tortuous\nparliamentary pretences by which it was worked out, or at the perversion\nof fundamental principles of legal administration involved in sending men\nto answer the gravest charges before a tribunal specially constituted at\nthe absolute discretion of their bitterest political opponents--at the\nmoment engaged in a fierce contest with them in another field--from\nwhatever point of view we approach, the erection of the Special Commission\nof 1888 stands out as one of the ugliest things done in the name and under\nthe forms of law in this island during the century.\n\n(M140) In the spring of 1887 the conductors of _The Times_, intending to\nstrengthen the hands of the government in their new and doubtful struggle,\npublished a series of articles, in which old charges against the Irish\nleader and his men were served up with fresh and fiery condiments. The\nallegations of crime were almost all indefinite; the method was by\nallusion, suggestion, innuendo, and the combination of ingeniously\nselected pieces, to form a crude and hideous mosaic. Partly from its\nextravagance, partly because it was in substance stale, the thing missed\nfire.\n\nOn the day on which the division was to be taken on the second reading of\nthe Coercion bill, a more formidable bolt was shot. On that morning (April\n18th, 1887), there appeared in the newspaper, with all the fascination of\nfacsimile, a letter alleged to be written by Mr. Parnell. It was dated\nnine days after the murders in the Phoenix Park, and purported to be an\napology, presumably to some violent confederate, for having as a matter of\nexpediency openly condemned the murders, though in truth the writer\nthought that one of the murdered men deserved his fate.(244) Special point\nwas given to the letter by a terrible charge, somewhat obliquely but still\nunmistakably made, in an article five or six weeks before, that Mr.\nParnell closely consorted with the leading Invincibles when he was\nreleased on parole in April 1882; that he probably learned from them what\nthey were about; and that he recognised the murders in the Phoenix Park as\ntheir handiwork.(245) The significance of the letter therefore was that,\nknowing the bloody deed to be theirs, he wrote for his own safety to\nqualify, recall, and make a humble apology for the condemnation which he\nhad thought it politic publicly to pronounce. The town was thrown into a\ngreat ferment. At the political clubs and in the lobbies, all was\ncomplacent jubilation on the one side, and consternation on the other.\nEven people with whom politics were a minor interest were shocked by such\nan exposure of the grievous depravity of man.\n\nMr. Parnell did not speak until one o'clock in the morning, immediately\nbefore the division on the second reading of the bill. He began amid the\ndeepest silence. His denial was scornful but explicit. The letter, he\nsaid, was an audacious fabrication. It is fair to admit that the\nministerialists were not without some excuse of a sort for the incredulous\nlaughter with which they received this repudiation. They put their trust\nin the most serious, the most powerful, the most responsible, newspaper in\nthe world; greatest in resources, in authority, in universal renown.\nNeglect of any possible precaution against fraud and forgery in a document\nto be used for the purpose of blasting a great political opponent would be\nculpable in no common degree. Of this neglect people can hardly be blamed\nfor thinking that the men of business, men of the world, and men of honour\nwho were masters of the _Times_, must be held absolutely incapable.\n\nThose who took this view were encouraged in it by the prime minister.\nWithin four-and-twenty hours he publicly took the truth of the story, with\nall its worst innuendoes, entirely for granted. He went with rapid stride\nfrom possibility to probability, and from probability to certainty. In a\nspeech, of which precipitate credulity was not the only fault, Lord\nSalisbury let fall the sentence: \"When men who knew gentlemen who\nintimately knew Mr. Parnell murdered Mr. Burke.\" He denounced Mr.\nGladstone for making a trusted friend of such a man--one who had \"mixed on\nterms of intimacy with those whose advocacy of assassination was well\nknown.\" Then he went further. \"You may go back,\" he said, \"to the\nbeginning of British government, you may go back from decade to decade,\nand from leader to leader, but you will never find a man who has accepted\na position, in reference to an ally tainted with the strong presumption of\nconniving at assassination, which has been accepted by Mr. Gladstone at\nthe present time.\"(246) Seldom has party spirit led eminent personages to\ngreater lengths of dishonouring absurdity.\n\nNow and afterwards people asked why Mr. Parnell did not promptly bring his\nlibellers before a court of law. The answer was simple. The case would\nnaturally have been tried in London. In other words, not only the\nplaintiff's own character, but the whole movement that he represented,\nwould have been submitted to a Middlesex jury, with all the national and\npolitical prejudices inevitable in such a body, and with all the twelve\nchances of a disagreement, that would be almost as disastrous to Mr.\nParnell as an actual verdict for his assailants. The issues were too great\nto be exposed to the hazards of a cast of the die. Then, why not lay the\nvenue in Ireland? It was true that a favourable verdict might just as\nreasonably be expected from the prepossessions of Dublin, as an\nunfavourable one from the prepossessions of London. But the moral effect\nof an Irish verdict upon English opinion would be exactly as worthless, as\nthe effect of an English verdict in a political or international case\nwould be upon the judgment and feeling of Ireland. To procure a\ncondemnation of the _Times_ at the Four Courts, as a means of affecting\nEnglish opinion, would not be worth a single guinea. Undoubtedly the\nsubsequent course of this strange history fully justified the advice that\nMr. Parnell received in this matter from the three persons in the House of\nCommons with whom on this point he took counsel.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe prudent decision against bringing a fierce political controversy\nbefore an English judge and jury was in a few months brought to nought,\nfrom motives that have remained obscure, and with results that nobody\ncould foresee. The next act in the drama was the institution of\nproceedings for libel against the _Times_ in November 1887, by an Irishman\nwho had formerly sat in parliament as a political follower of Mr. Parnell.\nThe newspaper met him by denying that the articles on _Parnellism and\nCrime_ related to him. It went on to plead that the statements in the\narticles were true in substance and in fact. The action was tried before\nLord Coleridge in July 1888, and the newspaper was represented by the\nadvocate who happened to be the principal law officer of the crown. The\nplaintiff's counsel picked out certain passages, said that his client was\none of the persons intended to be libelled, and claimed damages. He was\nheld to have made an undoubted _prima facie_ case on the two libels in\nwhich he had been specifically named. This gave the enemy his chance. The\nattorney general, speaking for three days, opened the whole case for the\nnewspaper; repeated and enlarged upon the charges and allegations in its\narticles; stated the facts which he proposed to give in evidence; sought\nto establish that the fac-simile letter was really signed by Mr. Parnell;\nand finally put forward other letters, now produced for the first time,\nwhich carried complicity and connivance to a further point. These charges\nhe said that he should prove. On the third day he entirely changed his\ntack. Having launched this mass of criminating imputation, he then\nsuddenly bethought him, so he said, of the hardships which his course\nwould entail upon the Irishmen, and asked that in that action he should\nnot be called upon to prove anything at all. The Irishmen and their leader\nremained under a load of odium that the law officer of the crown had cast\nupon them, and declined to substantiate.\n\nThe production of this further batch of letters stirred Mr. Parnell from\nhis usual impassiveness. His former determination to sit still was shaken.\nThe day after the attorney general's speech, he came to the present writer\nto say that he thought of sending a paragraph to the newspapers that\nnight, with an announcement of his intention to bring an action against\nthe _Times_, narrowed to the issue of the letters. The old arguments\nagainst an action were again pressed upon him. He insisted, on the other\nside, that he was not afraid of cross-examination; that they might\ncross-examine as much as ever they pleased, either about the doings of the\nland league or the letters; that his hands would be found to be clean, and\nthe letters to be gross (M141) forgeries. The question between us was\nadjourned; and meanwhile he fell in with my suggestion that he should the\nnext day make a personal statement to the House. The personal statement\nwas made in his most frigid manner, and it was as frigidly received. He\nwent through the whole of the letters, one by one; showed the palpable\nincredibility of some of them upon their very face, and in respect of\nthose which purported to be written by himself, he declared, in words free\nfrom all trace of evasion, that he had never written them, never signed\nthem, never directed nor authorised them to be written.\n\nSo the matter was left on the evening of Friday (July 6, 1888). On Monday\nMr. Parnell came to the House with the intention to ask for a select\ncommittee. The feeling of the English friend to whom he announced his\nintention in the lobby, still was that the matter might much better be\nleft where it stood. The new batch of letters had strengthened his\nposition, for the Kilmainham letter was a fraud upon the face of it, and a\nstory that he had given a hundred pounds to a fugitive from justice after\nthe murders, had been demolished. The press throughout the country had\ntreated the subject very coolly. The government would pretty certainly\nrefuse a select committee, and what would be the advantage to him in the\nminds of persons inclined to think him guilty, of making a demand which he\nknew beforehand would be declined? Such was the view now pressed upon Mr.\nParnell. This time he was not moved. He took his own course, as he had a\nparamount right to do. He went into the House and asked the ministers to\ngrant a select committee to inquire into the authenticity of the letters\nread at the recent trial. Mr. Smith replied, as before, that the House was\nabsolutely incompetent to deal with the charges. Mr. Parnell then gave\nnotice that he would that night put on the paper the motion for a\ncommittee, and on Thursday demand a day for its discussion.\n\nWhen Thursday arrived, either because the hot passion of the majority was\nirresistible, or from a cool calculation of policy, or simply because the\nsituation was becoming intolerable, a new decision had been taken, itself\nfar more intolerable than the scandal that it was to dissipate. The\ngovernment met the Irish leader with a refusal and an offer. They would\nnot give a committee, but they were willing to propose a commission to\nconsist wholly or mainly of judges, with statutory power to inquire into\n\"the allegations and charges made against members of parliament by the\ndefendants in the recent action.\" If the gentlemen from Ireland were\nprepared to accept the offer, the government would at once put on the\npaper for the following Monday, notice of motion for leave to bring in a\nbill.(247)\n\nWhen the words of the notice of motion appeared in print, it was found\namid universal astonishment that the special commission was to inquire\ninto the charges and allegations generally, not only against certain\nmembers of parliament, but also against \"other persons.\" The enormity of\nthis sudden extension of the operation was palpable. A certain member is\ncharged with the authorship of incriminating letters. To clear his\ncharacter as a member of parliament, he demands a select committee. We\ndecline to give a committee, says the minister, but we offer you a\ncommission of judges, and you may take our offer or refuse, as you please;\nonly the judges must inquire not merely into your question of the letters,\nbut into all the charges and allegations made against all of you, and not\nthese only, but into the charges and allegations made against other people\nas well. This was extraordinary enough, but it was not all.\n\nIt is impossible to feel much surprise that Mr. Parnell was ready to\nassent to any course, however unconstitutional that course might be, if\nonly it led to the exposure of an insufferable wrong. The credit of\nparliament and the sanctity of constitutional right were no supreme\nconcern of his. He was burning to get at any expedient, committee or\ncommission, which should enable him to unmask and smite his hidden foes.\nMuch of his private language at this time was in some respects vague and\nineffectual, but he was naturally averse to any course that might, in his\nown words, look like backing down. \"Of course,\" he said, \"I am not sure\nthat we shall come off with flying colours. But I think we shall. I am\nnever sure of anything.\" He was still confident that he had the clue.\n\nOn the second stage of the transaction, Mr. Smith, in answer to various\nquestions in the early part of the sitting, made a singular declaration.\nThe bill, he said, of which he had given notice, was a bill to be\nintroduced in accordance with the offer already made. \"I do not desire to\ndebate the proposal; and I have put it in this position on the Order Book,\nin order that it may be rejected or accepted by the honourable member in\nthe form in which it stands.\" Then in the next sentence, he said, \"If the\nmotion is received and accepted by the House, the bill will be printed and\ncirculated, and I will then name a day for the second reading. But I may\nsay frankly that I do not anticipate being able to make provision for a\ndebate on the second reading of a measure of this kind. It was an offer\nmade by the government to the honourable gentleman and his friends, to be\neither accepted or rejected.\"(248) The minister treated his bill as\nlightly as if it were some small proposal of ordinary form and of even\nless than ordinary importance. It is not inconceivable that there was\ndesign in this, for Mr. Smith concealed under a surface of plain and\nhomely worth a very full share of parliamentary craft, and he knew well\nenough that the more extraordinary the measure, the more politic it always\nis to open with an air of humdrum.\n\nThe bill came on at midnight July 16, in a House stirred with intense\nexcitement, closely suppressed. The leader of the House made the motion\nfor leave to introduce the most curious innovation of the century, in a\nspeech of half-a-minute. It might have been a formal bill for a\nprovisional order, to be taken as of course. Mr. Parnell, his ordinary\npallor made deeper by anger, and with unusual though very natural\nvehemence of demeanour, at once hit the absurdity of asking him whether he\naccepted or rejected the bill, not only before it was printed but without\nexplanation of its contents. He then pressed in two or three weighty\nsentences the deeper absurdity of leaving him any option at all. The\nattorney general had said of the story of the fac-simile letter, that if\nit was not genuine, it was the worst libel ever launched on a public man.\nIf the first lord believed his attorney, said Mr. Parnell, instead of\ntalking about making a bargain with me, he ought to have come down and\nsaid, \"The government are determined to have this investigation, whether\nthe honourable member, this alleged criminal, likes it or not.\"(249)\n\nThat was in fact precisely what the government had determined. The\nprofession that the bill was a benevolent device for enabling the alleged\ncriminals to extricate themselves was very soon dropped. The offer of a\nboon to be accepted or declined at discretion was transformed into a grand\ncompulsory investigation into the connection of the national and land\nleagues with agrarian crime, and the members of parliament were virtually\nput into the dock along with all sorts of other persons who chanced to be\nmembers of those associations. The effect was certain. Any facts showing\ncriminality in this or that member of the league would be taken to show\ncriminality in the organisation as a whole, and especially in the\npolitical leaders. And the proceeding could only be vindicated by the\ntruly outrageous principle that where a counsel in a suit finds it his\nduty as advocate to make grave charges against members of parliament in\ncourt, then it becomes an obligation on the government to ask for an Act\nto appoint a judicial commission to examine those charges, if only they\nare grave enough.\n\nThe best chance of frustrating the device was lost when the bill was\nallowed to pass its first reading unopposed. Three of the leaders of the\nliberal opposition--two in the Commons, one in the Lords--were for making a\nbold stand against the bill from the first. Mr. Gladstone, on the\ncontrary, with his lively instinct for popular feeling out of doors,\ndisliked any action indicative of reluctance to face inquiry; and though\nholding a strong view that no case had been made out for putting aside the\nconstitutional and convenient organ of a committee, yet he thought that an\n(M142) inquiry under thoroughly competent and impartial judges, after the\nright and true method of proceeding had been refused, was still better\nthan no proceeding at all. This much of assent, however, was qualified. \"I\nthink,\" he said, \"that an inquiry under thoroughly competent and impartial\njudges is better than none. But that inquiry must, I think, be put into\nsuch a shape as shall correspond with the general law and principles of\njustice.\" As he believed, the first and most indispensable conditions of\nan effective inquiry were wanting, and without them he \"certainly would\nhave no responsibility whatever.\"(250)\n\nFor the first few days politicians were much adrift. They had moments of\ncompunction. Whether friends or foes of the Irish, they were perplexed by\nthe curious double aspect of the measure. Mr. Parnell himself began to\nfeel misgivings, as he came to realise the magnitude of the inquiry, its\nvast expense, its interminable length, its unfathomable uncertainties. On\nthe day appointed for the second reading of the bill appointing the\ncommission (July 23), some other subject kept the business back until\nseven o'clock. Towards six, Mr. Parnell who was to open the debate on his\nown side, came to an English friend, to ask whether there would be time\nfor him to go away for an hour; he wished to examine some new furnace for\nassaying purposes, the existence of gold in Wicklow being one of his fixed\nideas. So steady was the composure of this extraordinary man. The English\nfriend grimly remarked to him that it would perhaps be rather safer not to\nlose sight of the furnace in which at any moment his own assaying might\nbegin. His speech on this critical occasion was not one of his best.\nIndifference to his audience often made him meagre, though he was scarcely\never other than clear, and in this debate there was only one effective\npoint which it was necessary for him to press. The real issue was whether\nthe reference to the judges should be limited or unlimited; should be a\nfishing inquiry at large into the history of an agrarian agitation ten\nyears old, or an examination into definite and specified charges against\nnamed members of parliament. The minister, in moving the second reading,\nno longer left it to the Irish members to accept or reject; it now rested,\nhe said, with the House to decide. It became evident that the acuter\nmembers of the majority, fully awakened to the opportunities for\ndestroying the Irishmen which an unlimited inquisition might furnish, had\nmade up their minds that no limit should be set to the scope of the\ninquisition. Boldly they tramped through a thick jungle of fallacy and\ninconsistency. They had never ceased to insist, and they insisted now,\nthat Mr. Parnell ought to have gone into a court of law. Yet they fought\nas hard as they could against every proposal for making the procedure of\nthe commission like the procedure of a law court. In a court there would\nhave been a specific indictment. Here a specific indictment was what they\nmost positively refused, and for it they substituted a roving inquiry,\nwhich is exactly what a court never undertakes. They first argued that\nnothing but a commission was available to test the charges against members\nof parliament. Then, when they had bethought themselves of further\nobjects, they argued round that it was unheard of and inconceivable to\ninstitute a royal commission for members of parliament alone.\n\nAll arguments, however unanswerable, were at this stage idle, because Mr.\nParnell had reverted to his original resolution to accept the bill, and at\nhis request the radicals sitting below him abandoned their opposition. The\nbill passed the second reading without a division. This circumstance\npermitted the convenient assertion, made so freely afterwards, that the\nbill, irregular, unconstitutional, violent, as it might be, at any rate\nreceived the unanimous assent of the House of Commons.\n\nStormy scenes marked the progress of the bill through committee. Seeing\nthe exasperation produced by their shifting of the ground, and the delay\nwhich it would naturally entail, ministers resolved on a bold step. It was\nnow August. Government remembered the process by which they had carried\nthe Coercion bill, and they improved upon it. After three days of\ncommittee, they moved that at one o'clock in the morning on the fourth\nsitting the (M143) chairman should break off discussion, put forthwith the\nquestion already proposed from the chair, then successively put forthwith\nall the remaining clauses, and so report the bill to the House. This\nprocess shut out all amendments not reached at the fatal hour, and is the\nmost drastic and sweeping of all forms of closure. In the case of the\nCoercion bill, resort to the guillotine was declared to be warranted by\nthe urgency of social order in Ireland. That plea was at least plausible.\nNo such plea of urgency could be invoked for a measure, which only a few\ndays before the government had considered to be of such secondary\nimportance, that the simple rejection of it by Mr. Parnell was to be\nenough to induce them to withdraw it. The bill that had been proffered as\na generous concession to Irish members, was now violently forced upon them\nwithout debate. Well might Mr. Gladstone speak of the most extraordinary\nseries of proceedings that he had ever known.(251)\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe three judges first met on September 17, 1888, to settle their\nprocedure. They sat for one hundred and twenty-eight days, and rose for\nthe last time on November 22, 1889. More than four hundred and fifty\nwitnesses were examined. One counsel spoke for five days, another for\nseven, and a third for nearly twelve. The mammoth record of the\nproceedings fills eleven folio volumes, making between seven and eight\nthousand pages. The questions put to witnesses numbered ninety-eight\nthousand.\n\nIt was a strange and fantastic scene. Three judges were trying a social\nand political revolution. The leading actors in it were virtually in the\ndock. The tribunal had been specially set up by their political opponents,\nwithout giving them any effective voice either in its composition or upon\nthe character and scope of its powers. For the first time in England since\nthe Great Rebellion, men were practically put upon their trial on a\npolitical charge, without giving them the protection of a jury. For the\nfirst time in that period judges were to find a verdict upon the facts of\ncrime. The charge placed in the forefront was a charge of conspiracy. But\nto call a combination a conspiracy does not make it a conspiracy or a\nguilty combination, unless the verdict of a jury pronounces it to be one.\nA jury would have taken all the large attendant circumstances into\naccount. The three judges felt themselves bound expressly to shut out\nthose circumstances. In words of vital importance, they said, \"We must\nleave it for politicians to discuss, and for statesmen to determine, in\nwhat respects the present laws affecting land in Ireland are capable of\nimprovement. _We have no commission to consider whether the conduct of\nwhich they are accused can be palliated by the circumstances of the time,\nor whether it should be condoned in consideration of benefits alleged to\nhave resulted from their action._\"(252) When the proceedings were over,\nLord Salisbury applauded the report as \"giving a very complete view of a\nvery curious episode of our internal history.\"(253) A very complete view\nof an agrarian rising--though it left out all palliating circumstances and\nthe whole state of agrarian law!\n\nInstead of opening with the letters, as the country expected, the accusers\nbegan by rearing a prodigious accumulation of material, first for the\nIrish or agrarian branch of their case, and then for the American branch.\nThe government helped them to find their witnesses, and so varied a host\nwas never seen in London before. There was the peasant from Kerry in his\nfrieze swallow-tail and knee-breeches, and the woman in her scarlet\npetticoat who runs barefoot over the bog in Galway. The convicted member\nof a murder club was brought up in custody from Mountjoy prison or\nMaryborough. One of the most popular of the Irish representatives had been\nfetched from his dungeon, and was to be seen wandering through the lobbies\nin search of his warders. Men who had been shot by moonlighters limped\ninto the box, and poor women in their blue-hooded cloaks told pitiful\ntales of midnight horror. The sharp spy was there, who disclosed sinister\nsecrets from cities across the Atlantic, and the uncouth informer who\nbetrayed or invented the history of rude and ferocious plots hatched at\nthe country cross-roads (M144) or over the peat fire in desolate cabins in\nwestern Ireland. Divisional commissioners with their ledgers of agrarian\noffences, agents with bags full of figures and documents, landlords,\npriests, prelates, magistrates, detectives, smart members of that famous\nconstabulary force which is the arm, eye, and ear of the Irish\ngovernment--all the characters of the Irish melodrama were crowded into the\ncorridors, and in their turn brought out upon the stage of this surprising\ntheatre.\n\nThe proceedings speedily settled down into the most wearisome drone that\nwas ever heard in a court of law. The object of the accusers was to show\nthe complicity of the accused with crime by tracing crime to the league,\nand making every member of the league constructively liable for every act\nof which the league was constructively guilty. Witnesses were produced in\na series that seemed interminable, to tell the story of five-and-twenty\noutrages in Mayo, of as many in Cork, of forty-two in Galway, of\nsixty-five in Kerry, one after another, and all with immeasurable detail.\nSome of the witnesses spoke no English, and the English of others was\nhardly more intelligible than Erse. Long extracts were read out from four\nhundred and forty speeches. The counsel on one side produced a passage\nthat made against the speaker, and then the counsel on the other side\nfound and read some qualifying passage that made as strongly for him. The\nthree judges groaned. They had already, they said plaintively, ploughed\nthrough the speeches in the solitude of their own rooms. Could they not be\ntaken as read? No, said the prosecuting counsel; we are building up an\nargument, and it cannot be built up in a silent manner. In truth it was\ndesigned for the public outside the court,(254) and not a touch could be\nspared that might deepen the odium. Week after week the ugly tale went\non--a squalid ogre let loose among a population demoralised by ages of\nwicked neglect, misery, and oppression. One side strove to show that the\nogre had been wantonly raised by the land league for political objects of\ntheir own; the other, that it was the progeny of distress and wrong, that\nthe league had rather controlled than kindled its ferocity, and that crime\nand outrage were due to local animosities for which neither league nor\nparliamentary leaders were answerable.\n\nOn the forty-fourth day (February 5) came a lurid glimpse from across the\nAtlantic. The Irish emigration had carried with it to America the deadly\npassion for the secret society. A spy was produced, not an Irishman this\ntime for a wonder, but an Englishman. He had been for eight-and-twenty\nyears in the United States, and for more than twenty of them he had been\nin the pay of Scotland Yard, a military spy, as he put it, in the service\nof his country. There is no charge against him that he belonged to that\nfoul species who provoke others to crime and then for a bribe betray them.\nHe swore an oath of secrecy to his confederates in the camps of the\nClan-na-Gael, and then he broke his oath by nearly every post that went\nfrom New York to London. It is not a nice trade, but then the dynamiter's\nis not a nice trade either.(255) The man had risen high in the secret\nbrotherhood. Such an existence demanded nerves of steel; a moment of\nforgetfulness, an accident with a letter, the slip of a phrase in the two\nparts that he was playing, would have doomed him in the twinkling of an\neye. He now stood a rigorous cross-examination like iron. There is no\nreason to think that he told lies. He was perhaps a good deal less trusted\nthan he thought, for he does not appear on any occasion to have forewarned\nthe police at home of any of the dynamite attempts that four or five years\nearlier had startled the English capital. The pith of his week's evidence\nwas his account of an interview between himself and Mr. Parnell in the\ncorridors of the House of Commons in April 1881. In this interview, Mr.\nParnell, he said, expressed his desire to bring the Fenians in Ireland\ninto line with his own constitutional movement, and to that end requested\nthe spy to invite a notorious leader of the physical force party in\nAmerica to come over to Ireland, to arrange a harmonious understanding.\nMr. Parnell had no recollection of the interview, (M145) though he thought\nit very possible that an interview might have taken place. It was\nundoubtedly odd that the spy having once got his line over so big a fish,\nshould never afterwards have made any attempt to draw him on. The judges,\nhowever, found upon a review of \"the probabilities of the case,\" that the\nconversation in the corridor really took place, that the spy's account was\ncorrect, and that it was not impossible that in conversation with a\nsupposed revolutionist, Mr. Parnell may have used such language as to\nleave the impression that he agreed with his interlocutor. Perhaps a more\nexact way of putting it would be that the spy talked the Fenian doctrine\nof physical force, and that Mr. Parnell listened.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nAt last, on the fiftieth day (February 14, 1889), and not before, the\ncourt reached the business that had led to its own creation. Three batches\nof letters had been produced by the newspaper. The manager of the\nnewspaper told his story, and then the immediate purveyor of the letters\ntold his. Marvellous stories they were.\n\nThe manager was convinced from the beginning, as he ingenuously said,\nquite independently of handwriting, that the letters were genuine. Why? he\nwas asked. Because he felt they were the sort of letters that Mr. Parnell\nwould be likely to write. He counted, not wholly without some reason, on\nthe public sharing this inspiration of his own indwelling light. The day\nwas approaching for the division on the Coercion bill. Every journalist,\nsaid the manager, must choose his moment. He now thought the moment\nsuitable for making the public acquainted with the character of the\nIrishmen. So, with no better evidence of authority than his firm faith\nthat it was the sort of letter that Mr. Parnell would be likely to write,\non the morning of the second reading of the Coercion bill, he launched the\nfac-simile letter. In the early part of 1888 he received from the same\nhand a second batch of letters, and a third batch a few days later. His\ntotal payments amounted to over two thousand five hundred pounds. He still\nasked no questions as to the source of these expensive documents. On the\ncontrary he particularly avoided the subject. So much for the cautious and\nexperienced man of business.\n\nThe natural course would have been now to carry the inquiry on to the\nsource of the letters. Instead of that, the prosecutors called an expert\nin handwriting. The court expostulated. Why should they not hear at once\nwhere the letters came from; and then it might be proper enough to hear\nwhat an expert had to say? After a final struggle the prolonged tactics of\ndeferring the evil day, and prejudicing the case up to the eleventh hour,\nwere at last put to shame. The second of the two marvellous stories was\nnow to be told.\n\nThe personage who had handed the three batches of letters to the\nnewspaper, told the Court how he had in 1885 compiled a pamphlet called\n_Parnellism Unmasked_, partly from materials communicated to him by a\ncertain broken-down Irish journalist. To this unfortunate sinner, then in\na state of penury little short of destitution, he betook himself one\nwinter night in Dublin at the end of 1885. Long after, when the game was\nup and the whole sordid tragi-comedy laid bare, the poor wretch wrote: \"I\nhave been in difficulties and great distress for want of money for the\nlast twenty years, and in order to find means of support for myself and my\nlarge family, I have been guilty of many acts which must for ever disgrace\nme.\"(256) He had now within reach a guinea a day, and much besides, if he\nwould endeavour to find any documents that might be available to sustain\nthe charges made in the pamphlet. After some hesitation the bargain was\nstruck, a guinea a day, hotel and travelling expenses, and a round price\nfor documents. Within a few months the needy man in clover pocketed many\nhundreds of pounds. Only the author of the history of _Jonathan Wild the\nGreat_ could do justice to such a story of the Vagabond in Luck--a jaunt to\nLausanne, a trip across the Atlantic, incessant journeys backward and\nforward to Paris, the jingling of guineas, the rustle of hundred-pound\nnotes, and now and then perhaps a humorous thought of simple and solemn\npeople in newspaper offices in London, or a moment's meditation on that\nperplexing law of human affairs by which the weak things (M146) of the\nworld are chosen to confound the things that are mighty.\n\nThe moment came for delivering the documents in Paris, and delivered they\nwere with details more grotesque than anything since the foolish baronet\nin Scott's novel was taken by Dousterswivel to find the buried treasure in\nSaint Ruth's. From first to last not a test or check was applied by\nanybody to hinder the fabrication from running its course without a hitch\nor a crease. When men have the demon of a fixed idea in their cerebral\nconvolutions, they easily fall victims to a devastating credulity, and the\nvictims were now radiant as, with microscope and calligraphic expert by\ntheir side, they fondly gazed upon their prize. About the time when the\njudges were getting to work, clouds arose on this smiling horizon. It is\ngood, says the old Greek, that men should carry a threatening shadow in\ntheir hearts even under the full sunshine. Before this, the manager\nlearned for the first time, what was the source of the letters. The\nblessed doctrine of intrinsic certainty, however, which has before now\ndone duty in far graver controversy, prevented him from inquiring as to\nthe purity of the source.\n\nThe toils were rapidly enclosing both the impostor and the dupes. He was\nput into the box at last (Feb. 21). By the end of the second day, the\ntorture had become more than he could endure. Some miscalled the scene\ndramatic. That is hardly the right name for the merciless hunt of an\nabject fellow-creature through the doublings and windings of a thousand\nlies. The breath of the hounds was on him, and he could bear the chase no\nlonger. After proceedings not worth narrating, except that he made a\nconfession and then committed his last perjury, he disappeared. The police\ntraced him to Madrid. When they entered his room with their warrant (March\n1), he shot himself dead. They found on his corpse the scapulary worn by\ndevout catholics as a visible badge and token of allegiance to the\nheavenly powers. So in the ghastliest wreck of life, men still hope and\nseek for some mysterious cleansing of the soul that shall repair all.\n\nThis damning experience was a sharp mortification to the government, who\nhad been throughout energetic confederates in the attack. Though it did\nnot come at once formally into debate, it exhilarated the opposition, and\nMr. Gladstone himself was in great spirits, mingled with intense\nindignation and genuine sympathy for Mr. Parnell as a man who had suffered\nan odious wrong.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe report of the commission was made to the crown on February 13, 1890.\nIt reached the House of Commons about ten o'clock the same evening. The\nscene was curious,--the various speakers droning away in a House otherwise\nprofoundly silent, and every member on every bench, including high\nministers of state, plunged deep and eager into the blue-book. The general\nimpression was that the findings amounted to acquittal, and everybody went\nhome in considerable excitement at this final explosion of the damaged\nblunderbuss. The next day Mr. Gladstone had a meeting with the lawyers in\nthe case, and was keen for action in one form or another; but on the whole\nit was agreed that the government should be left to take the initiative.\n\nThe report was discussed in both Houses, and strong speeches were made on\nboth sides. The government (Mar. 3) proposed a motion that the House\nadopted the report, thanked the judges for their just and impartial\nconduct, and ordered the report to be entered on the journals. Mr.\nGladstone followed with an amendment, that the House deemed it to be a\nduty to record its reprobation of the false charges of the gravest and\nmost odious description, based on calumny and on forgery, that had been\nbrought against members of the House; and, while declaring its\nsatisfaction at the exposure of these calumnies, the House expressed its\nregret at the wrong inflicted and the suffering and loss endured through a\nprotracted period by reason of these acts of flagrant iniquity. After a\nhandsome tribute to the honour and good faith of the judges, he took the\npoint that some of the opinions in the report were in no sense and no\ndegree judicial. How, for instance, could three judges, sitting ten years\nafter the fact (1879-80), determine better than anybody (M147) else that\ndistress and extravagant rents had nothing to do with crime? Why should\nthe House of Commons declare its adoption of this finding without question\nor correction? Or of this, that the rejection of the Disturbance bill by\nthe Lords in 1880 had nothing to do with the increase of crime? Mr.\nForster had denounced the action of the Lords with indignation, and was\nnot he, the responsible minister, a better witness than the three judges\nin no contact with contemporary fact? How were the judges authorised to\naffirm that the Land bill of 1881 had not been a great cause in mitigating\nthe condition of Ireland? Another conclusive objection was that--on the\ndeclaration of the judges themselves, rightly made by them--what we know to\nbe essential portions of the evidence were entirely excluded from their\nview.\n\nHe next turned to the findings, first of censure, then of acquittal. The\nfindings of censure were in substance three. First, seven of the\nrespondents had joined the league with a view of separating Ireland from\nEngland. The idea was dead, but Mr. Gladstone was compelled to say that in\nhis opinion to deny the moral authority of the Act of Union was for an\nIrishman no moral offence whatever. Here the law-officer sitting opposite\nto him busily took down a note. \"Yes, yes,\" Mr. Gladstone exclaimed, \"you\nmay take my words down. I heard you examine your witness from a pedestal,\nas you felt, of the greatest elevation, endeavouring to press home the\nmonstrous guilt of an Irishman who did not allow moral authority to the\nAct of Union. In my opinion the Englishman has far more cause to blush for\nthe means by which that Act was obtained.\" As it happened, on the only\noccasion on which Mr. Gladstone paid the Commission a visit, he had found\nthe attorney general cross-examining a leading Irish member, and this\npassage of arms on the Act of Union between counsel and witness then\noccurred.\n\nThe second finding of censure was that the Irish members incited to\nintimidation by speeches, knowing that intimidation led to crime. The\nthird was that they never placed themselves on the side of law and order;\nthey did not assist the administration, and did not denounce the party of\nphysical force. As if this, said Mr. Gladstone, had not been the subject\nof incessant discussion and denunciation in parliament at the time ten\nyears ago, and yet no vote of condemnation was passed upon the Irish\nmembers then. On the contrary, the tory party, knowing all these charges,\nassociated with them for purposes of votes and divisions; climbed into\noffice on Mr. Parnell's shoulders; and through the viceroy with the\nconcurrence of the prime minister, took Mr. Parnell into counsel upon the\ndevising of a plan for Irish government. Was parliament now to affirm and\nrecord a finding that it had scrupulously abstained from ever making its\nown, and without regard to the counter-allegation that more crime and\nworse crime was prevented by agitation? It was the duty of parliament to\nlook at the whole of the facts of the great crisis of 1880-1--to the\ndistress, to the rejection of the Compensation bill, to the growth of\nevictions, to the prevalence of excessive rents. The judges expressly shut\nout this comprehensive survey. But the House was not a body with a limited\ncommission; it was a body of statesmen, legislators, politicians, bound to\nlook at the whole range of circumstances, and guilty of misprision of\njustice if they failed so to do. \"Suppose I am told,\" he said in notable\nand mournful words, \"that without the agitation Ireland would never have\nhad the Land Act of 1881, are you prepared to deny that? I hear no\nchallenges upon that statement, for I think it is generally and deeply\nfelt that without the agitation the Land Act would not have been passed.\nAs the man responsible more than any other for the Act of 1881--as the man\nwhose duty it was to consider that question day and night during nearly\nthe whole of that session--I must record my firm opinion that it would not\nhave become the law of the land, if it had not been for the agitation with\nwhich Irish society was convulsed.\"(257)\n\nThis bare table of his leading points does nothing to convey the\nimpression made by an extraordinarily fine performance. When the speaker\ncame to the findings of acquittal, to the dismissal of the infamous\ncharges of the forged letters, of intimacy with the Invincibles, of being\n(M148) accessory to the assassinations in the Park, glowing passion in\nvoice and gesture reached its most powerful pitch, and the moral appeal at\nits close was long remembered among the most searching words that he had\never spoken. It was not forensic argument, it was not literature; it had\nevery note of true oratory--a fervid, direct and pressing call to his\nhearers as \"individuals, man by man, not with a responsibility diffused\nand severed until it became inoperative and worthless, to place himself in\nthe position of the victim of this frightful outrage; to give such a\njudgment as would bear the scrutiny of the heart and of the conscience of\nevery man when he betook himself to his chamber and was still.\"\n\nThe awe that impressed the House from this exhortation to repair an\nenormous wrong soon passed away, and debate in both Houses went on the\nregular lines of party. Everything that was found not to be proved against\nthe Irishmen, was assumed against them. Not proven was treated as only an\nevasive form of guilty. Though the three judges found that there was no\nevidence that the accused had done this thing or that, yet it was held\nlegitimate to argue that evidence must exist--if only it could be found.\nThe public were to nurse a sort of twilight conviction and keep their\nminds in a limbo of beliefs that were substantial and alive--only the light\nwas bad.\n\nIn truth, the public did what the judges declined to do. They took\ncircumstances into account. The general effect of this transaction was to\npromote the progress of the great unsettled controversy in Mr. Gladstone's\nsense. The abstract merits of home rule were no doubt untouched, but it\nmade a difference to the concrete argument, whether the future leader of\nan Irish parliament was a proved accomplice of the Park murderers or not.\nIt presented moreover the chameleon Irish case in a new and singular\ncolour. A squalid insurrection awoke parliament to the mischiefs and\nwrongs of the Irish cultivators. Reluctantly it provided a remedy. Then in\nthe fulness of time, ten years after, it dealt with the men who had roused\nit to its duty. And how? It brought them to trial before a special\ntribunal, invented for the purpose, and with no jury; it allowed them no\nvoice in the constitution of the tribunal; it exposed them to long and\nharassing proceedings; and it thereby levied upon them a tremendous\npecuniary fine. The report produced a strong recoil against the flagrant\nviolence, passion, and calumny, that had given it birth; and it affected\nthat margin of men, on the edge of either of the two great parties by whom\nelectoral decisions are finally settled.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IV. An Interim. (1889-1891)\n\n\n The nobler a soul is, the more objects of compassion it hath.\n\n --BACON.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nAt the end of 1888 Mr. Gladstone with his wife and others of his house was\ncarried off by Mr. Rendel's friendly care to Naples. Hereto, he told Lord\nActon, \"we have been induced by three circumstances. First, a warm\ninvitation from the Dufferins to Rome; as to which, however, there are\n_cons_ as well as _pros_, for a man who like me is neither Italian nor\nCurial in the view of present policies. Secondly, our kind friend Mr.\nStuart Rendel has actually offered to be our conductor thither and back,\nto perform for us the great service which you rendered us in the trip to\nMunich and Saint-Martin. Thirdly, I have the hope that the stimulating\nclimate of Naples, together with an abstention from speech greater than\nany I have before enjoyed, might act upon my 'vocal cord,' and partially\nat least restore it.\"\n\nAt Naples he was much concerned with Italian policy.\n\n\n _To Lord Granville._\n\n _Jan. 13, 1889._--My stay here where the people really seem to\n regard me as not a foreigner, has brought Italian affairs and\n policy very much home to me, and given additional force and\n vividness to the belief I have always had, that it was sadly\n impolitic for Italy to make enemies for herself beyond the Alps.\n Though I might try and keep back this sentiment in Rome, even my\n silence might betray it and I could not promise to keep silence\n altogether. I think the impolicy amounts almost to madness\n especially for a country which carries with her, nestling in her\n bosom, the \"standing menace\" of the popedom....\n\n -------------------------------------\n\n _To J. Morley._\n\n _Jan. 10._--I hope you have had faith enough not to be troubled\n about my supposed utterances on the temporal power.... I will not\n trouble you with details, but you may rest assured I have never\n said the question of the temporal power was anything except an\n Italian question. I have a much greater anxiety than this about\n the Italian alliance with Germany. It is in my opinion an awful\n error and constitutes the great danger of the country. It may be\n asked, \"What have you to do with it?\" More than people might\n suppose. I find myself hardly regarded here as a foreigner. They\n look upon me as having had a real though insignificant part in the\n Liberation. It will hardly be possible for me to get through the\n affair of this visit without making my mind known. On this account\n mainly I am verging towards the conclusion that it will be best\n for me not to visit Rome, and my wife as it happens is not anxious\n to go there. If you happen to see Granville or Rosebery please let\n them know this.\n\n We have had on the whole a good season here thus far. Many of the\n days delicious. We have been subjected here as well as in London\n to a course of social kindnesses as abundant as the waters which\n the visitor has to drink at a watering place, and so enervating\n from the abstraction of cares that I am continually thinking of\n the historical Capuan writer. I am in fact totally demoralised,\n and cannot wish not to continue so. Under the circumstances\n Fortune has administered a slight, a very slight physical\n correction. A land-slip, or rather a Tufo rock-slip of 50,000\n tons, has come down and blocked the proper road between us and\n Naples.\n\n -------------------------------------\n\n _To Lord Acton._\n\n _Jan. 23, 1889._--Rome is I think definitely given up. I shall be\n curious to know your reasons for approving this _gran rifiuto_.\n Meantime I will just glance at mine. I am not so much afraid of\n the Pope as of the Italian government and court. My sentiments are\n so very strong about the present foreign policy. The foreign\n policy of the government but not I fear of the government only. If\n I went to Rome, and saw the King and the minister, as I must, I\n should be treading upon eggs all the time with them. I could not\n speak out uninvited; and it is not satisfactory to be silent in\n the presence of those interested, when the feelings are very\n strong....\n\n\nThese feelings broke out in time in at least one anonymous article.(258)\nHe told Lord Granville how anxious he was that no acknowledgment of\nauthorship, direct or indirect, should come from any of his friends. \"Such\nan article of necessity lectures the European states. As one of a public\nof three hundred and more millions, I have a right to do this, but not in\nmy own person.\" This strange simplicity rather provoked his friends, for\nit ignored two things--first, the certainty that the secret of authorship\nwould get out; second, if it did not get out, the certainty that the\nEuropean states would pay no attention to such a lecture backed by no name\nof weight--perhaps even whether it were so backed or not. Faith in\nlectures, sermons, articles, even books, is one of the things most easily\noverdone.\n\n\n Most of my reading, he went on to Acton, has been about the Jews\n and the Old Testament. I have not looked at the books you kindly\n sent me, except a little before leaving Hawarden; but I want to\n get a hold on the broader side of the Mosaic dispensation and the\n Jewish history. The great historic features seem to me in a large\n degree independent of the critical questions which have been\n raised about the _redaction_ of the Mosaic books. Setting aside\n Genesis, and the Exodus proper, it seems difficult to understand\n how either Moses or any one else could have advisedly published\n them in their present form; and most of all difficult to believe\n that men going to work deliberately after the captivity would not\n have managed a more orderly execution. My thoughts are always\n running back to the parallel question about Homer. In that case,\n those who hold that Peisistratos or some one of his date was the\n compiler, have at least this to say, that the poems in their\n present form are such as a compiler, having liberty of action,\n might have aimed at putting out from his workshop. Can that be\n said of the Mosaic books? Again, are we not to believe in the\n second and third Temples as centres of worship because there was a\n temple at Leontopolis, as we are told? Out of the frying-pan, into\n the fire.\n\n\nWhen he left Amalfi (Feb. 14) for the north, he found himself, he says, in\na public procession, with great crowds at the stations, including Crispi\nat Rome, who had once been his guest at Hawarden.\n\nAfter his return home, he wrote again to Lord Acton:--\n\n\n _April 28, 1889._--I have long been wishing to write to you. But as\n a rule I never can write any letters that I wish to write. My\n volition of that kind is from day to day exhausted by the worrying\n demand of letters that I do not wish to write. Every year brings\n me, as I reckon, from three to five thousand new correspondents,\n of whom I could gladly dispense with 99 per cent. May you never be\n in a like plight.\n\n Mary showed me a letter of recent date from you, which referred to\n the idea of my writing on the Old Testament. The matter stands\n thus: An appeal was made to me to write something on the general\n position and claims of the holy scriptures for the working men. I\n gave no pledge but read (what was for me) a good deal on the laws\n and history of the Jews with only two results: first, deepened\n impressions of the vast interest and importance attaching to them,\n and of their fitness to be made the subject of a telling popular\n account; secondly, a discovery of the necessity of reading much\n more. But I have never in this connection thought much about what\n is called the criticism of the Old Testament, only seeking to\n learn how far it impinged upon the matters that I really was\n thinking of. It seems to me that it does not impinge much.... It\n is the fact that among other things I wish to make some sort of\n record of my life. You say truly it has been very full. I add\n fearfully full. But it has been in a most remarkable degree the\n reverse of self-guided and self-suggested, with reference I mean\n to all its best known aims. Under this surface, and in its daily\n habit no doubt it has been selfish enough. Whether anything of\n this kind will ever come off is most doubtful. Until I am released\n from politics by the solution of the Irish problem, I cannot even\n survey the field.\n\n I turn to the world of action. It has long been in my mind to\n found something of which a library would be the nucleus. I incline\n to begin with a temporary building here. Can you, who have built a\n library, give me any advice? On account of fire I have half a mind\n to corrugated iron, with felt sheets to regulate the temperature.\n\n Have you read any of the works of Dr. Salmon? I have just finished\n his volume on Infallibility, which fills me with admiration of its\n easy movement, command of knowledge, singular faculty of\n disentanglement, and great skill and point in argument; though he\n does not quite make one love him. He touches much ground trodden\n by Dr. Doellinger; almost invariably agreeing with him.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nJuly 25, 1889, was the fiftieth anniversary of his marriage. The Prince\nand Princess of Wales sent him what he calls a beautiful and splendid\ngift. The humblest were as ready as the highest with their tributes, and\ncomparative strangers as ready as the nearest. Among countless others who\nwrote was Bishop Lightfoot, great master of so much learning:--\n\n\n I hope you will receive this tribute from one who regards your\n private friendship as one of the great privileges of his life.\n\n\nAnd Doellinger:--\n\n\n If I were fifteen years younger than I am, how happy I would be to\n come over to my beloved England once more, and see you surrounded\n by your sons and daughters, loved, admired, I would almost say\n worshipped, by a whole grateful nation.\n\n\nOn the other side, a clever lady having suggested to Browning that he\nshould write an inscription for her to some gift for Mr. Gladstone,\nreceived an answer that has interest, both by the genius and fame of its\nwriter, and as a sign of widespread feeling in certain circles in those\ndays:--\n\n\n Surely your kindness, even your sympathy, will be extended to me\n when I say, with sorrow indeed, that I am unable now\n conscientiously to do what, but a few years ago, I would have at\n least attempted with such pleasure and pride as might almost\n promise success. I have received much kindness from that\n extraordinary personage, and what my admiration for his\n transcendent abilities was and ever will be, there is no need to\n speak of. But I am forced to altogether deplore his present\n attitude with respect to the liberal party, of which I, the\n humblest unit, am still a member, and as such grieved to the heart\n by every fresh utterance of his which comes to my knowledge. Were\n I in a position to explain publicly how much the personal feeling\n is independent of the political aversion, all would be easy; but I\n am a mere man of letters, and by the simple inscription which\n would truly testify to what is enduring, unalterable in my esteem,\n I should lead people--as well those who know me as those who do\n not--to believe my approbation extended far beyond the bounds which\n unfortunately circumscribe it now. All this--even more--was on my\n mind as I sat, last evening, at the same table with the\n brilliantly-gifted man whom once--but that \"once\" is too sad to\n remember.\n\n\nAt a gathering at Spencer House in the summer of 1888, when this year of\nfelicitation opened, Lord Granville, on behalf of a number of subscribers,\npresented Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone with two portraits, and in his address\nspoke of the long span of years through, which, they had enjoyed \"the\nunclouded blessings of the home.\" The expression was a just one. The\nextraordinary splendour and exalted joys of an outer life so illustrious\nwere matched in the inner circle of the hearth by a happy order,\naffectionate reciprocal attachments, a genial round of kindliness and\nduty, that from year to year went on untarnished, unstrained, unbroken.\nVisitors at Hawarden noticed that, though the two heads of the house were\nnow old, the whole atmosphere seemed somehow to be alive with the\nfreshness and vigour of youth; it was one of the youngest of households in\nits interests and activities. The constant tension of his mind never\nimpaired his tenderness and wise solicitude for family and kinsfolk, and\nfor all about him; and no man ever had such observance of decorum with\nsuch entire freedom from pharisaism.\n\nNor did the order and moral prosperity of his own home (M149) leave him\ncomplacently forgetful of fellow-creatures to whom life's cup had been\ndealt in another measure. On his first entry upon the field of responsible\nlife, he had formed a serious and solemn engagement with a friend--I\nsuppose it was Hope-Scott--that each would devote himself to active service\nin some branch of religious work.(259) He could not, without treason to\nhis gifts, go forth like Selwyn or Patteson to Melanesia to convert the\nsavages. He sought a missionary field at home, and he found it among the\nunfortunate ministers to \"the great sin of great cities.\" In these humane\nefforts at reclamation he persevered all through his life, fearless of\nmisconstruction, fearless of the levity or baseness of men's tongues,\nregardless almost of the possible mischiefs to the public policies that\ndepended on him. Greville(260) tells the story how in 1853 a man made an\nattempt one night to extort money from Mr. Gladstone, then in office as\nchancellor of the exchequer, by threats of exposure; and how he instantly\ngave the offender into custody, and met the case at the police office.\nGreville could not complete the story. The man was committed for trial.\nMr. Gladstone directed his solicitors to see that the accused was properly\ndefended. He was convicted and sent to prison. By and by Mr. Gladstone\ninquired from the governor of the prison how the delinquent was conducting\nhimself. The report being satisfactory, he next wrote to Lord Palmerston,\nthen at the home office, asking that the prisoner should be let out. There\nwas no worldly wisdom in it, we all know. But then what are people\nChristians for?\n\nWe have already seen(261) his admonition to a son, and how much importance\nhe attached to the dedication of a certain portion of our means to\npurposes of charity and religion. His example backed his precept. He kept\ndetailed accounts under these heads from 1831 to 1897, and from these it\nappears that from 1831 to the end of 1890 he had devoted to objects of\ncharity and religion upwards of seventy thousand pounds, and in the\nremaining years of his life the figure in this account stands at thirteen\nthousand five hundred--this besides thirty thousand pounds for his\ncherished object of founding the hostel and library at Saint Deiniol's.\nHis friend of early days, Henry Taylor, says in one of his notes on life\nthat if you know how a man deals with money, how he gets it, spends it,\nkeeps it, shares it, you know some of the most important things about him.\nHis old chief at the colonial office in 1846 stands the test most nobly.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nNear the end of 1889 among the visitors to Hawarden was Mr. Parnell. His\nair of good breeding and easy composure pleased everybody. Mr. Gladstone's\nown record is simple enough, and contains the substance of the affair as\nhe told me of it later:--\n\n\n _Dec. 18, 1889._--Reviewed and threw into form all the points of\n possible amendment or change in the plan of Irish government,\n etc., for my meeting with Mr. Parnell. He arrived at 5.30, and we\n had two hours of satisfactory conversation; but he put off the\n _gros_ of it. 19.--Two hours more with Mr. P. on points in Irish\n government plans. He is certainly one of the very best people to\n deal with that I have ever known. Took him to the old castle. He\n seems to notice and appreciate everything.\n\n\nThinking of all that had gone before, and all that was so soon to come\nafter, anybody with a turn for imaginary dialogue might easily upon this\ntheme compose a striking piece.\n\nIn the spring of 1890 Mr. Gladstone spent a week at Oxford of which he\nspoke with immense enthusiasm. He was an honorary fellow of All Souls, and\nhere he went into residence in his own right with all the zest of a\nvirtuous freshman bent upon a first class. Though, I daresay, pretty\nnearly unanimous against his recent policies, they were all fascinated by\nhis simplicity, his freedom from assumption or parade, his eagerness to\nknow how leading branches of Oxford study fared, his naturalness and\npleasant manners. He wrote to Mrs. Gladstone (Feb. 1):--\n\n\n Here I am safe and sound, and launched anew on my university\n career, all my days laid out and occupied until the morning of\n this day week, when I am to return to London. They press me to\n stay over the Sunday, but this cannot be thought of. I am received\n with infinite kindness, and the rooms they have given me are\n delightful. Weather dull, and light a medium between London and\n Hawarden. I have seen many already, including Liddon and Acland,\n who goes up to-morrow for a funeral early on Monday. Actually I\n have engaged to give a kind of Homeric lecture on Wednesday to the\n members of the union. The warden and his sisters are courteous and\n hospitable to the last degree. He is a unionist. The living here\n is very good, perhaps some put on for a guest, but I like the tone\n of the college; the fellows are men of a high class, and their\n conversation is that of men with work to do. I had a most special\n purpose in coming here which will be more than answered. It was to\n make myself safe so far as might be, in the articles(262) which\n eighteen months ago I undertook to write about the Old Testament.\n This, as you know perhaps, is now far more than the New, the\n battle-ground of belief. There are here most able and instructed\n men, and I am already deriving great benefit.\n\n\nSomething that fell from him one morning at breakfast in the common room\nled in due time to the election of Lord Acton to be also an honorary\nmember of this distinguished society. \"If my suggestion,\" Mr. Gladstone\nwrote to one of the fellows, \"really contributed to this election, then I\nfeel that in the dregs of my life I have at least rendered one service to\nthe college. My ambition is to visit it and Oxford in company with him.\"\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIn 1890 both Newman and Doellinger died.\n\n\n I have been asked from many quarters, Mr. Gladstone said to Acton,\n to write about the Cardinal. But I dare not. First, I do not know\n enough. Secondly, I should be puzzled to use the little knowledge\n that I have. I was not a friend of his, but only an acquaintance\n treated with extraordinary kindness whom it would ill become to\n note what he thinks defects, while the great powers and qualities\n have been and will be described far better by others. Ever since\n he published his University Sermons in 1843, I have thought him\n unsafe in philosophy, and no Butlerian though a warm admirer of\n Butler. No; it was before 1843, in 1841 when he published Tract\n XC. The _general_ argument of that tract was unquestionable; but\n he put in sophistical matter without the smallest necessity. What\n I recollect is about General Councils: where in treating the\n declaration that they may err he virtually says, \"No doubt they\n may--unless the Holy Ghost prevents them.\" But he was a wonderful\n man, a holy man, a very refined man, and (to me) a most kindly\n man.\n\n\nOf Dr. Doellinger he contributed a charming account to a weekly print,(263)\nand to Acton he wrote:--\n\n\n I have the fear that my Doellinger letters will disappoint you.\n When I was with him, he spoke to me with the utmost freedom; and\n so I think he wrote, but our correspondence was only occasional. I\n think nine-tenths of my intercourse with him was oral; with\n Cardinal Newman nothing like one-tenth. But with neither was the\n mere _corpus_ of my intercourse great, though in D.'s case it was\n very precious, most of all the very first of it in 1845.... With\n my inferior faculty and means of observation, I have long adopted\n your main proposition. His attitude of mind was more historical\n than theological. When I first knew him in 1845, and he honoured\n me with very long and interesting conversations, they turned very\n much upon theology, and I derived from him what I thought very\n valuable and steadying knowledge. Again in 1874 during a long\n walk, when we spoke of the shocks and agitation of our time, he\n told me how the Vatican decrees had required him to reperuse and\n retry the whole circle of his thought. He did not make known to me\n any general result; but he had by that time found himself wholly\n detached from the Council of Trent, which was indeed a logical\n necessity from his preceding action. The Bonn Conference appeared\n to show him nearly at the standing-point of anglican theology. I\n thought him more liberal as a theologian than as a politician. On\n the point of church establishment he was as impenetrable as if he\n had been a Newdegate. He would not see that there were two sides\n to the question. I long earnestly to know what progress he had\n made at the last towards redeeming the pledge given in one of his\n letters to me, that the evening of his life was to be devoted to a\n great theological construction.... I should have called him an\n anti-Jesuit, but in _no_ other sense, that is in no sense, a\n Jansenist. I never saw the least sign of leaning in that\n direction.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nHere the reader may care to have a note or two of talk with him in these\ndays:--\n\n\n _At Dollis Hill, Sunday, Feb. 22, 1891_.... A few minutes after\n eight Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone came in from church, and we three sat\n down to dinner. A delightful talk, he was in full force, plenty of\n energy without vehemence. The range of topics was pretty wide, yet\n marvellous to say, we had not a single word about Ireland.\n Certainly no harm in that.\n\n _J. M._--A friend set me on a hunt this morning through Wordsworth\n for the words about France standing on the top of golden hours. I\n did not find them, but I came across a good line of Hartley\n Coleridge's about the Thames:--\n\n \"And the thronged river toiling to the main.\"\n\n _Mr. G._--Yes, a good line. Toiling to the main recalls Dante:--\n\n \"Su la marina, dove'l Po discende,\n Per aver pace co' seguaci sui.\"(264)\n\n _J. M._--Have you seen Symonds's re-issued volume on Dante? 'Tis\n very good. Shall I lend it to you?\n\n _Mr. G._--Sure to be good, but not in the session. I never look at\n Dante unless I can have a great continuous draught of him. He's\n too big, he seizes and masters you.\n\n _J. M._--Oh, I like the picturesque bits, if it's only for\n half-an-hour before dinner; the bird looking out of its nest for\n the dawn, the afternoon bell, the trembling of the water in the\n morning light, and the rest that everybody knows.\n\n _Mr. G._--No, I cannot do it. By the way, ladies nowadays keep\n question books, and among other things ask their friends for the\n finest line in poetry. I think I'm divided between three, perhaps\n the most glorious is Milton's--[_Somehow this line slipped from\n memory, but the reader might possibly do worse than turn over\n Milton in search for his finest line._] Or else Wordsworth's--\"Or\n hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.\" Yet what so splendid as\n Penelope's about not rejoicing the heart of anybody less than\n Odysseus?\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}.(265)\n\n He talked a great deal to-night about Homer; very confident that\n he had done something to drive away the idea that Homer was an\n Asiatic Greek. Then we turned to Scott, whom he held to be by far\n the greatest of his countrymen. I suggested John Knox. No, the\n line must be drawn firm between the writer and the man of action;\n no comparisons there.\n\n _J. M._--Well, then, though I love Scott so much that if any man\n chooses to put him first, I won't put him second, yet is there not\n a vein of pure gold in Burns that gives you pause?\n\n _Mr. G._--Burns very fine and true, no doubt; but to imagine a\n whole group of characters, to marshal them, to set them to work,\n to sustain the action--I must count that the test of highest and\n most diversified quality.\n\n We spoke of the new Shakespeare coming out. I said I had been\n taking the opportunity of reading vol. i., and should go over it\n all in successive volumes. _Mr. G._--\"Falstaff is wonderful--one of\n the most wonderful things in literature.\"\n\n Full of interest in _Hamlet_, and enthusiasm for it--comes closer\n than any other play to some of the strangest secrets of human\n nature--what _is_ the key to the mysterious hold of this play on\n the world's mind? I produced my favourite proposition that\n _Measure for Measure_ is one of the most modern of all the plays;\n the profound analysis of Angelo and his moral catastrophe, the\n strange figure of the duke, the deep irony of our modern time in\n it all. But I do not think he cared at all for this sort of\n criticism. He is too healthy, too objective, too simple, for all\n the complexities of modern morbid analysis.\n\n Talked of historians; Lecky's two last volumes he had not yet\n read, but--had told him that, save for one or two blots due to\n contemporary passion, they were perfectly honourable to Lecky in\n every way. Lecky, said Mr. G., \"has real insight into the motives\n of statesmen. Now Carlyle, so mighty as he is in flash and\n penetration, has no eye for motives. Macaulay, too, is so caught\n by a picture, by colour, by surface, that he is seldom to be\n counted on for just account of motive.\"\n\n He had been reading with immense interest and satisfaction\n Sainte-Beuve's _History of Port Royal_, which for that matter\n deserves all his praise and more, though different parts of it are\n written from antagonistic points of view. Vastly struck by\n Saint-Cyran. When did the notion of the spiritual director make\n its appearance in Europe? Had asked both Doellinger and Acton on\n this curious point. For his own part, he doubted whether the\n office existed before the Reformation.\n\n _J. M._--Whom do you reckon the greatest Pope?\n\n _Mr. G._--I think on the whole, Innocent III. But his greatness was\n not for good. What did he do? He imposed the dogma of\n transubstantiation; he is responsible for the Albigensian\n persecutions; he is responsible for the crusade which ended in the\n conquest of Byzantium. Have you ever realised what a deadly blow\n was the ruin of Byzantium by the Latins, how wonderful a fabric\n the Eastern Empire was?\n\n _J. M._--Oh, yes, I used to know my Finlay better than most books.\n Mill used to say a page of Finlay was worth a chapter of Gibbon:\n he explains how decline and fall came about.\n\n _Mr. G._--Of course. Finlay has it all.\n\n He tried then to make out that the eastern empire was more\n wonderful than anything done by the Romans; it stood out for\n eleven centuries, while Rome fell in three. I pointed out to him\n that the whole solid framework of the eastern empire was after all\n built up by the Romans. But he is philhellene all through past and\n present.\n\n\n\n\nChapter V. Breach With Mr. Parnell. (1890-1891)\n\n\n Fortuna vitrea est,--tum quum splendet frangitur.--PUBLIL. SYRUS.\n Brittle like glass is fortune,--bright as light, and then the\n crash.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIt would have been a miracle if the sight of all the methods of coercion,\nalong with the ignominy of the forged letters, had not worked with strong\neffect upon the public mind. Distrust began to creep at a very rapid pace\neven into the ministerial ranks. The tory member for a large northern\nborough rose to resent \"the inexpedient treatment of the Irishmen from a\nparty point of view,\" to protest against the 'straining and stretching of\nthe law' by the resident magistrates, to declare his opinion that these\ngentlemen were not qualified to exercise the jurisdiction entrusted to\nthem, \"and to denounce the folly of making English law unpopular in\nIreland, and provoking the leaders of the Irish people by illegal and\nunconstitutional acts.\"(266) These sentiments were notoriously shared to\nthe full by many who sat around him. Nobody in those days, discredited as\nhe was with his party, had a keener scent for the drift of popular feeling\nthan Lord Randolph Churchill, and he publicly proclaimed that this sending\nof Irish members of parliament to prison in such numbers was a feature\nwhich he did not like. Further, he said that the fact of the government\nnot thinking it safe for public meetings of any sort to be held, excited\npainful feelings in English minds.(267) All this was after the system had\nbeen in operation for two years. Even strong unionist organs in the Irish\npress could not stand it.(268) They declared that if (M150) the Irish,\ngovernment wished to make the coercive system appear as odious as\npossible, they would act just as they were acting. They could only explain\nall these doings, not by \"wrong-headedness or imbecility,\" but by a\nstrange theory that there must be deliberate treachery among the\ngovernment agents.\n\nBefore the end of the year 1889 the electoral signs were unmistakable.\nFifty-three bye-elections had been contested since the beginning of the\nparliament. The net result was the gain of one seat for ministers and of\nnine to the opposition. The Irish secretary with characteristic candour\nnever denied the formidable extent of these victories, though he mourned\nover the evils that such temporary successes might entail, and was\nconvinced that they would prove to be dearly bought.(269) A year later the\ntide still flowed on; the net gain of the opposition rose to eleven. In\n1886 seventy-seven constituencies were represented by forty-seven\nunionists and thirty liberals. By the beginning of October in 1890 the\nunionist members in the same constituencies had sunk to thirty-six, and\nthe liberals had risen to forty-one. Then came the most significant\nelection of all.\n\nThere had been for some months a lull in Ireland. Government claimed the\ncredit of it for coercion; their adversaries set it down partly to the\noperation of the Land Act, partly to the natural tendency in such\nagitations to fluctuate or to wear themselves out, and most of all to the\nstrengthened reliance on the sincerity of the English liberals. Suddenly\nthe country was amazed towards the middle of September by news that\nproceedings under the Coercion Act had been instituted against two\nnationalist leaders, and others. Even strong adherents of the government\nand their policy were deeply dismayed, when they saw that after three\nyears of it, the dreary work was to begin over again. The proceedings\nseemed to be stamped in every aspect as impolitic. In a few days the two\nleaders would have been on their way to America, leaving a half-empty war\nchest behind them and the flame of agitation burning low. As the offences\ncharged had been going on for six months, there was clearly no pressing\nemergency.\n\nA critical bye-election was close at hand at the moment in the Eccles\ndivision of Lancashire. The polling took place four days after a vehement\ndefence of his policy by Mr. Balfour at Newcastle. The liberal candidate\nat Eccles expressly declared from his election address onwards, that the\ngreat issue on which he fought was the alternative between conciliation\nand coercion. Each candidate increased the party vote, the tory by rather\nmore than one hundred, the liberal by nearly six hundred. For the first\ntime the seat was wrested from the tories, and the liberal triumphed by a\nsubstantial majority.(270) This was the latest gauge of the failure of the\nIrish policy to conquer public approval, the last indication of the\ndirection in which the currents of public opinion were steadily\nmoving.(271) Then all at once a blinding sandstorm swept the ground.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nOne of those events now occurred that with their stern irony so mock the\nstatesman's foresight, and shatter political designs in their most\nprosperous hour. As a mightier figure than Mr. Parnell remorsefully said\non a grander stage, a hundred years before, cases sometimes befall in the\nhistory of nations where private fault is public disaster.\n\nAt the end of 1889, the Irish leader had been made a party in a suit for\ndivorce. He betrayed no trace in his demeanour, either to his friends or\nto the House, of embarrassment at the position. His earliest appearance\nafter the evil news, was in the debate on the first night of the session\n(February 11, '90), upon a motion about the publication of the forged\nletter. Some twenty of (M151) his followers being absent, he wished the\ndiscussion to be prolonged into another sitting. Closely as it might be\nsupposed to concern him, he listened to none of the debate. He had a\nsincere contempt for speeches in themselves, and was wont to set down most\nof them to vanity. A message was sent that he should come upstairs and\nspeak. After some indolent remonstrance, he came. His speech was\nadmirable; firm without emphasis, penetrating, dignified, freezing, and\nunanswerable. Neither now nor on any later occasion did his air of\ncomposure in public or in private give way.\n\nMr. Gladstone was at Hawarden, wide awake to the possibility of peril. To\nMr. Arnold Morley he wrote on November 4:--\"I fear a thundercloud is about\nto burst over Parnell's head, and I suppose it will end the career of a\nman in many respects invaluable.\" On the 13th he was told by the present\nwriter that there were grounds for an impression that Mr. Parnell would\nemerge as triumphantly from the new charge, as he had emerged from the\nobloquy of the forged letters. The case was opened two days later, and\nenough came out upon the first day of the proceedings to point to an\nadverse result. A Sunday intervened, and Mr. Gladstone's self-command\nunder storm-clouds may be seen in a letter written on that day to me:--\n\n\n _Nov. 16, 1890._--1. It is, after all, a thunder-clap about\n Parnell. Will he ask for the Chiltern Hundreds? He cannot continue\n to lead? What could he mean by his language to you? The Pope has\n now clearly got a commandment under which to pull him up. It\n surely cannot have been always thus; for he represented his\n diocese in the church synod. 2. I thank you for your kind scruple,\n but in the country my Sundays are habitually and largely invaded.\n 3. Query, whether if a bye-seat were open and chanced to have a\n large Irish vote W---- might not be a good man there. 4. I do not\n think my Mem. is worth circulating but perhaps you would send it\n to Spencer. I sent a copy to Harcourt. 5. [A small parliamentary\n point, not related to the Parnell affair, nor otherwise\n significant.] 6. Most warmly do I agree with you about the Scott\n _Journal_. How one loves him. 7. Some day I hope to inflict on you\n a talk about Homer and Homerology (as I call it).\n\n\nThe court pronounced a condemnatory decree on Monday, November 17th.\nParliament was appointed to meet on Tuesday, the 25th. There was only a\nweek for Irish and English to resolve what effect this condemnation should\nhave upon Mr. Parnell's position as leader of one and ally of the other.\nMr. Parnell wrote the ordinary letter to his parliamentary followers. The\nfirst impulses of Mr. Gladstone are indicated in a letter to me on the day\nafter the decree:--\n\n\n _Nov. 18, 1890._--Many thanks for your letter. I had noticed the\n Parnell circular, not without misgiving. I read in the _P. M. G._\n this morning a noteworthy article in the _Daily Telegraph_,(272)\n or rather from it, with which I very much agree. But I think it\n plain that we have nothing to say and nothing to do in the matter.\n The party is as distinct from us as that of Smith or Hartington. I\n own to some surprise at the apparent facility with which the R. C.\n bishops and clergy appear to take the continued leadership, but\n they may have tried the ground and found it would not _bear_. It\n is the Irish parliamentary party, and that alone to which we have\n to look....\n\n\nSuch were Mr. Gladstone's thoughts when the stroke first fell.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIn England and Scotland loud voices were speedily lifted up. Some treated\nthe offence itself as an inexpiable disqualification. Others argued that,\neven if the offence could be passed over as lying outside of politics, it\n(M152) had been surrounded by incidents of squalor and deceit that\nbetrayed a character in which no trust could ever be placed again. In some\nEnglish quarters all this was expressed with a strident arrogance that set\nIrishmen on fire. It is ridiculous, if we remember what space Mr. Parnell\nfilled in Irish imagination and feeling, how popular, how mysterious, how\ninvincible he had been, to blame them because in the first moment of shock\nand bewilderment they did not instantly plant themselves in the judgment\nseat, always so easily ascended by Englishmen with little at stake. The\npoliticians in Dublin did not hesitate. A great meeting was held at\nLeinster Hall in Dublin on the Thursday (November 20th). The result was\neasy to foresee. Not a whisper of revolt was heard. The chief nationalist\nnewspaper stood firm for Mr. Parnell's continuance. At least one\necclesiastic of commanding influence was supposed to be among the\njournal's most ardent prompters. It has since been stated that the bishops\nwere in fact forging bolts of commination. No lurid premonitory fork or\nsheet flashed on the horizon, no rumble of the coming thunders reached the\npublic ear.\n\nThree days after the decree in the court, the great English liberal\norganization chanced to hold its annual meeting at Sheffield (November\n20-21). In reply to a request of mine as to his views upon our position,\nMr. Gladstone wrote to me as follows:--\n\n\n _Nov. 19, 1890._--Your appeal as to your meeting of to-morrow gives\n matter for thought. I feel (1) that the Irish have abstractedly a\n right to decide the question; (2) that on account of Parnell's\n enormous services--he has done for home rule something like what\n Cobden did for free trade, set the argument on its legs--they are\n in a position of immense difficulty; (3) that we, the liberal\n party as a whole, and especially we its leaders, have for the\n moment nothing to say to it, that we must be passive, must wait\n and watch. But I again and again say to myself, I say I mean in\n the interior and silent forum, \"It'll na dee.\" I should not be\n surprised if there were to be rather painful manifestations in the\n House on Tuesday. It is yet to be seen what our Nonconformist\n friends, such a man as ----, for example, or such a man as ---- will\n say.... If I recollect right, Southey's _Life of Nelson_ was in my\n early days published and circulated by the Society for Promoting\n Christian Knowledge. It would be curious to look back upon it and\n see how the biographer treats his narrative at the tender points.\n What I have said under figure 3 applies to me beyond all others,\n and notwithstanding my prognostications I shall maintain an\n extreme reserve in a position where I can do no good (in the\n present tense), and might by indiscretion do much harm. You will\n doubtless communicate with Harcourt and confidential friends only\n as to anything in this letter. The thing, one can see, is not a\n _res judicata_. It may ripen fast. Thus far, there is a total want\n of moral support from this side to the Irish judgment.\n\n\nA fierce current was soon perceived to be running. All the elements so\npowerful for high enthusiasm, but hazardous where an occasion demands\ncircumspection, were in full blast. The deep instinct for domestic order\nwas awake. Many were even violently and irrationally impatient that Mr.\nGladstone had not peremptorily renounced the alliance on the very morrow\nof the decree. As if, Mr. Gladstone himself used to say, it could be the\nduty of any party leader to take into his hands the intolerable burden of\nexercising the rigours of inquisition and private censorship over every\nman with whom what he judged the highest public expediency might draw him\nto co-operate. As if, moreover, it could be the duty of Mr. Gladstone to\nhurry headlong into action, without giving Mr. Parnell time or chance of\ntaking such action of his own as might make intervention unnecessary. Why\nwas it to be assumed that Mr. Parnell would not recognise the facts of the\nsituation? \"I determined,\" said Mr. Gladstone \"to watch the state of\nfeeling in this country. I made no public declaration, but the country\nmade up its mind. I was in some degree like the soothsayer Shakespeare\nintroduces into one of his plays. He says, 'I do not make the facts; I\nonly foresee them.' I did not foresee the facts even; they were present\nbefore me.\"(273)\n\n(M153) The facts were plain, and Mr. Gladstone was keenly alive to the\nfull purport of every one of them. Men, in whose hearts religion and\nmorals held the first place, were strongly joined by men accustomed to\nsettle political action by political considerations. Platform-men united\nwith pulpit-men in swelling the whirlwind. Electoral calculation and moral\nfaithfulness were held for once to point the same way. The report from\nevery quarter, every letter to a member from a constituent, all was in one\nsense. Some, as I have said, pressed the point that the misconduct itself\nmade co-operation impossible; others urged the impossibility of relying\nupon political understandings with one to whom habitual duplicity was\nbelieved to have been brought home. We may set what value we choose upon\nsuch arguments. Undoubtedly they would have proscribed some of the most\nimportant and admired figures in the supreme doings of modern Europe.\nUndoubtedly some who have fallen into shift and deceit in this particular\nrelation, have yet been true as steel in all else. For a man's character\nis a strangely fitted mosaic, and it is unsafe to assume that all his\ntraits are of one piece, or inseparable in fact because they ought to be\ninseparable by logic. But people were in no humour for casuistry, and\nwhether all this be sophistry or sense, the volume of hostile judgment and\nobstinate intention could neither be mistaken, nor be wisely breasted if\nhome rule was to be saved in Great Britain.\n\nMr. Gladstone remained at Hawarden during the week. To Mr. Arnold Morley\nhe wrote (Nov. 23): \"I have a bundle of letters every morning on the\nParnell business, and the bundles increase. My own opinion has been the\nsame from the first, and I conceive that the time for action has now come.\nAll my correspondents are in unison.\" Every post-bag was heavy with\nadmonitions, of greater cogency than such epistles sometimes possess; and\na voluminous bundle of letters still at Hawarden bears witness to the\nemotions of the time. Sir William Harcourt and I, who had taken part in\nthe proceedings at Sheffield, made our reports. The acute manager of the\nliberal party came to announce that three of our candidates had bolted\nalready, that more were sure to follow, and that this indispensable\ncommodity in elections would become scarcer than ever. Of the general\nparty opinion, there could be no shadow of doubt. It was no application of\nspecial rigour because Mr. Parnell was an Irishman. Any English politician\nof his rank would have fared the same or worse, and retirement, temporary\nor for ever, would have been inevitable. Temporary withdrawal, said some;\npermanent withdrawal, said others; but for withdrawal of some sort, almost\nall were inexorable.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nMr. Gladstone did not reach London until the afternoon of Monday, November\n24. Parliament was to assemble on the next day. Three members of the\ncabinet of 1886, and the chief whip of the party,(274) met him in the\nlibrary of Lord Rendel's house at Carlton Gardens. The issue before the\nliberal leaders was a plain one. It was no question of the right of the\nnationalists to choose their own chief. It was no question of inflicting\npolitical ostracism on a particular kind of moral delinquency. The\nquestion was whether the present continuance of the Irish leadership with\nthe silent assent of the British leaders, did not involve decisive\nabstention at the polls on the day when Irish policy could once more be\nsubmitted to the electors of Great Britain? At the best the standing\ndifficulties even to sanguine eyes, and under circumstances that had\nseemed so promising, were still formidable. What chance was there if this\nnew burden were superadded? Only one conclusion was possible upon the\nstate of facts, and even those among persons responsible for this decision\nwho were most earnestly concerned in the success of the Irish policy,\nreviewing all the circumstances of the dilemma, deliberately hold to this\nday that though a catastrophe followed, a worse catastrophe was avoided.\nIt is one of the commonest of all secrets of cheap misjudgment in human\naffairs, to start by assuming that there is always some good way out of a\nbad case. Alas for us all, this is not so. Situations arise alike (M154)\nfor individuals, for parties, and for states, from which no good way out\nexists, but only choice between bad way and worse. Here was one of those\nsituations. The mischiefs that followed the course actually taken, we see;\nthen, as is the wont of human kind, we ignore the mischiefs that as surely\nawaited any other.\n\nMr. Gladstone always steadfastly resisted every call to express an opinion\nof his own that the delinquency itself had made Mr. Parnell unfit and\nimpossible. It was vain to tell him that the party would expect such a\ndeclaration, or that his reputation required that he should found his\naction on moral censure all his own. \"What!\" he cried, \"because a man is\nwhat is called leader of a party, does that constitute him a censor and a\njudge of faith and morals? I will not accept it. It would make life\nintolerable.\" He adhered tenaciously to political ground. \"I have been for\nfour years,\" Mr. Gladstone justly argued, \"endeavouring to persuade voters\nto support Irish autonomy. Now the voter says to me, 'If a certain thing\nhappens--namely, the retention of the Irish leadership in its present\nhands--I will not support Irish autonomy.' How can I go on with the work?\nWe laboriously rolled the great stone up to the top of the hill, and now\nit topples down to the bottom again, unless Mr. Parnell sees fit to go.\"\nFrom the point of view of Irish policy this was absolutely unanswerable.\nIt would have been just as unanswerable, even if all the dire confusion\nthat afterwards came to pass had then been actually in sight. Its force\nwas wholly independent, and necessarily so, of any intention that might be\nformed by Mr. Parnell.\n\nAs for that intention, let us turn to him for a moment. Who could dream\nthat a man so resolute in facing facts as Mr. Parnell, would expect all to\ngo on as before? Substantial people in Ireland who were preparing to come\nround to home rule at the prospect of a liberal victory in Great Britain,\nwould assuredly be frightened back. Belfast would be more resolute than\never. A man might estimate as he pleased either the nonconformist\nconscience in England, or the catholic conscience in Ireland. But the most\ncynical of mere calculators,--and I should be slow to say that this was Mr.\nParnell,--could not fall a prey to such a hallucination as to suppose that\na scandal so frightfully public, so impossible for even the most mild-eyed\ncharity to pretend not to see, and which political passion was so\ninterested in keeping in full blaze, would instantly drop out of the mind\nof two of the most religious communities in the world; or that either of\nthese communities could tolerate without effective protest so impenitent\nan affront as the unruffled continuity of the stained leadership. All this\nwas independent of anything that Mr. Gladstone might do or might not do.\nThe liberal leaders had a right to assume that the case must be as obvious\nto Mr. Parnell as it was to everybody else, and unless loyalty and good\nfaith have no place in political alliances, they had a right to look for\nhis spontaneous action. Was unlimited consideration due from them to him\nand none from him to them?\n\nThe result of the consultation was the decisive letter addressed to me by\nMr. Gladstone, its purport to be by me communicated to Mr. Parnell. As any\none may see, its language was courteous and considerate. Not an accent was\nleft that could touch the pride of one who was known to be as proud a man\nas ever lived. It did no more than state an unquestionable fact, with an\ninevitable inference. It was not written in view of publication, for that\nit was hoped would be unnecessary. It was written with the expectation of\nfinding the personage concerned in his usual rational frame of mind, and\nwith the intention of informing him of what it was right that he should\nknow. The same evening Mr. McCarthy was placed in possession of Mr.\nGladstone's views, to be laid before Mr. Parnell at the earliest moment.\n\n\n _1 Carlton Gardens, Nov. 24, 1890._--MY DEAR MORLEY.--Having arrived\n at a certain conclusion with regard to the continuance, at the\n present moment, of Mr. Parnell's leadership of the Irish party, I\n have seen Mr. McCarthy on my arrival in town, and have inquired\n from him whether I was likely to receive from Mr. Parnell himself\n any communication on the subject. Mr. McCarthy replied that he was\n unable to give me any information on the subject. I mentioned to\n him that in 1882, after the terrible murder in the Phoenix Park,\n Mr. Parnell, although totally removed from any idea of\n responsibility, had spontaneously written to me, and offered to\n take the Chiltern Hundreds, an offer much to his honour but one\n which I thought it my duty to decline.\n\n While clinging to the hope of a communication from Mr. Parnell, to\n whomsoever addressed, I thought it necessary, viewing the\n arrangements for the commencement of the session to-morrow, to\n acquaint Mr. McCarthy with the conclusion at which, after using\n all the means of observation and reflection in my power, I had\n myself arrived. It was that notwithstanding the splendid services\n rendered by Mr. Parnell to his country, his continuance at the\n present moment in the leadership would be productive of\n consequences disastrous in the highest degree to the cause of\n Ireland. I think I may be warranted in asking you so far to expand\n the conclusion I have given above, as to add that the continuance\n I speak of would not only place many hearty and effective friends\n of the Irish cause in a position of great embarrassment, but would\n render my retention of the leadership of the liberal party, based\n as it has been mainly upon the prosecution of the Irish cause,\n almost a nullity. This explanation of my views I begged Mr.\n McCarthy to regard as confidential, and not intended for his\n colleagues generally, if he found that Mr. Parnell contemplated\n spontaneous action; but I also begged that he would make known to\n the Irish party, at their meeting to-morrow afternoon, that such\n was my conclusion, if he should find that Mr. Parnell had not in\n contemplation any step of the nature indicated. I now write to\n you, in case Mr. McCarthy should be unable to communicate with Mr.\n Parnell, as I understand you may possibly have an opening\n to-morrow through another channel. Should you have such an\n opening, I beg you to make known to Mr. Parnell the conclusion\n itself, which I have stated in the earlier part of this letter. I\n have thought it best to put it in terms simple and direct, much as\n I should have desired had it lain within my power, to alleviate\n the painful nature of the situation. As respects the manner of\n conveying what my public duty has made it an obligation to say, I\n rely entirely on your good feeling, tact, and judgment.--Believe me\n sincerely yours, W. E. GLADSTONE.\n\n\nNo direct communication had been possible, though every effort to open it\nwas made. Indirect information had been received. Mr. Parnell's purpose\nwas reported to have shifted during the week since the decree. On the\nWednesday he had been at his stiffest, proudest, and coldest, bent on\nholding on at all cost. He thought he saw a way of getting something done\nfor Ireland; the Irish people had given him a commission; he should stand\nto it, so long as ever they asked him. On the Friday, however (Nov. 21),\nhe appeared, so I had been told, to be shaken in his resolution. He had\nbethought him that the government might possibly seize the moment for a\ndissolution; that if there were an immediate election, the government\nwould under the circumstances be not unlikely to win; if so, Mr. Gladstone\nmight be thrown for four or five years into opposition; in other words,\nthat powerful man's part in the great international transaction would be\nat an end. In this mood he declared himself alive to the peril and the\ngrave responsibility of taking any course that could lead to consequences\nso formidable. That was the last authentic news that reached us. His Irish\ncolleagues had no news at all. After this glimpse the curtain had fallen,\nand all oracles fell dumb.\n\nIf Mr. Gladstone's decision was to have the anticipated effect, Mr.\nParnell must be made aware of it before the meeting of the Irish party\n(Nov. 25). This according to custom was to be held at two o'clock in the\nafternoon, to choose their chairman for the session. Before the choice was\nmade, both the leader and his political friends should know the view and\nthe purpose that prevailed in the camp of their allies. Mr. Parnell kept\nhimself invisible and inaccessible alike to English and Irish friends\nuntil a few minutes before the meeting. The Irish member who had seen Mr.\nGladstone the previous evening, at the last moment was able to deliver the\nmessage that had been confided to him. Mr. Parnell replied that he should\nstand to his guns. The other members of the Irish party came together,\nand, wholly ignorant of the attitude taken by Mr. Gladstone, promptly and\nwith hardly a word of discussion re-elected their leader to his usual\npost. The gravity of the unfortunate error (M155) committed in the failure\nto communicate the private message to the whole of the nationalist\nmembers, with or without Mr. Parnell's leave, lay in the fact that it\nmagnified and distorted Mr. Gladstone's later intervention into a\nhumiliating public ultimatum. The following note, made at the time,\ndescribes the fortunes of Mr. Gladstone's letter:--\n\n\n _Nov. 25._--I had taken the usual means of sending a message to Mr.\n Parnell, to the effect that Mr. Gladstone was coming to town on\n the following day, and that I should almost certainly have a\n communication to make to Mr. Parnell on Tuesday morning. It was\n agreed at my interview with his emissary on Sunday night (November\n 23) that I should be informed by eleven on Tuesday forenoon where\n I should see him. I laid special stress on my seeing him before\n the party met. At half-past eleven, or a little later, on that day\n I received a telegram from the emissary that he could not reach\n his friend.(275) I had no difficulty in interpreting this. It\n meant that Mr. Parnell had made up his mind to fight it out,\n whatever line we might adopt; that he guessed that my wish to see\n him must from his point of view mean mischief; and that he would\n secure his re-election as chairman before the secret was out. Mr.\n McCarthy was at this hour also entirely in the dark, and so were\n all the other members of the Irish party supposed to be much in\n Mr. Parnell's confidence. When I reached the House a little after\n three, the lobby was alive with the bustle and animation usual at\n the opening of a session, and Mr. Parnell was in the thick of it,\n talking to a group of his friends. He came forward with much\n cordiality. \"I am very sorry,\" he said, \"that I could not make an\n appointment, but the truth is I did not get your message until I\n came down to the House, and then it was too late.\" I asked him to\n come round with me to Mr. Gladstone's room. As we went along the\n corridor he informed me in a casual way that the party had again\n elected him chairman. When we reached the sunless little room, I\n told him I was sorry to hear that the election was over, for I had\n a communication to make to him which might, as I hoped, still make\n a difference. I then read out to him Mr. Gladstone's letter. As he\n listened, I knew the look on his face quite well enough to see\n that he was obdurate. The conversation did not last long. He said\n the feeling against him was a storm in a teacup, and would soon\n pass. I replied that he might know Ireland, but he did not half\n know England; that it was much more than a storm in a teacup; that\n if he set British feeling at defiance and brazened it out, it\n would be ruin to home rule at the election; that if he did not\n withdraw for a time, the storm would not pass; that if he withdrew\n from the actual leadership now as a concession due to public\n feeling in this country, this need not prevent him from again\n taking the helm when new circumstances might demand his presence;\n that he could very well treat his re-election as a public vote of\n confidence by his party; that, having secured this, he would\n suffer no loss of dignity or authority by a longer or shorter\n period of retirement. I reminded him that for two years he had\n been practically absent from active leadership. He answered, in\n his slow dry way, that he must look to the future; that he had\n made up his mind to stick to the House of Commons and to his\n present position in his party, until he was convinced, and he\n would not soon be convinced, that it was impossible to obtain home\n rule from a British parliament; that if he gave up the leadership\n for a time, he should never return to it; that if he once let go,\n it was all over. There was the usual iteration on both sides in a\n conversation of the kind, but this is the substance of what\n passed. His manner throughout was perfectly cool and quiet, and\n his unresonant voice was unshaken. He was paler than usual, and\n now and then a wintry smile passed over his face. I saw that\n nothing would be gained by further parley, so I rose and he\n somewhat slowly did the same. \"Of course,\" he said, as I held the\n door open for him to leave, \"Mr. Gladstone will have to attack me.\n I shall expect that. He will have a right to do that.\" So we\n parted.\n\n I waited for Mr. Gladstone, who arrived in a few minutes. It was\n now four o'clock. \"Well?\" he asked eagerly the moment the door was\n closed, and without taking off cape or hat. \"Have you seen him?\"\n \"He is obdurate,\" said I. I told him shortly what had passed. He\n stood at the table, dumb for some instants, looking at me as if he\n could not believe what I had said. Then he burst out that we must\n at once publish his letter to me; at once, that very afternoon. I\n said, \"'Tis too late now.\" \"Oh, no,\" said he, \"the _Pall Mall_\n will bring it out in a special edition.\" \"Well, but,\" I persisted,\n \"we ought really to consider it a little.\" Reluctantly he yielded,\n and we went into the House. Harcourt presently joined us on the\n bench, and we told him the news. It was by and by decided that the\n letter should be immediately published. Mr. Gladstone thought that\n I should at once inform Mr. Parnell of this. There he was at that\n moment, pleasant and smiling, in his usual place on the Irish\n bench. I went into our lobby, and sent somebody to bring him out.\n Out he came, and we took three or four turns in the lobby. I told\n him that it was thought right, under the new circumstances, to\n send the letter to the press. \"Yes,\" he said amicably, as if it\n were no particular concern of his, \"I think Mr. Gladstone will be\n quite right to do that; it will put him straight with his party.\"\n\n\nThe debate on the address had meanwhile been running its course. Mr.\nGladstone had made his speech. One of the newspapers afterwards described\nthe liberals as wearing pre-occupied countenances. \"We were pre-occupied\nwith a vengeance,\" said Mr. Gladstone, \"and even while I was speaking I\ncould not help thinking to myself, Here am I talking about Portugal and\nabout Armenia, while every single creature in the House is absorbed in one\nthing only, and that is an uncommonly long distance from either Armenia or\nPortugal.\" News of the letter, which had been sent to the reporters about\neight o'clock, swiftly spread. Members hurried to ex-ministers in the\ndining-room to ask if the story of the letter were true. The lobbies were\nseized by one of those strange and violent fevers to which on such\noccasions the House of Commons is liable. Unlike the clamour of the Stock\nExchange or a continental Chamber, there is little noise, but the\nperturbation is profound. Men pace the corridors in couples and trios, or\nflit from one knot to another, listening to an oracle of the moment\nmodestly retailing a rumour false on the face of it, or evolving monstrous\nhypotheses to explain incredible occurrences. This, however, was no common\ncrisis of lobby or gallery.\n\nOne party quickly felt that, for them at least, it was an affair of life\nor death. It was no wonder that the Irish members were stirred to the very\ndepths. For five years they had worked on English platforms, made active\nfriendships with English and Scottish liberals in parliament and out of\nit, been taught to expect from their aid and alliance that deliverance\nwhich without allies must remain out of reach and out of sight; above all,\nfor nearly five years they had been taught to count on the puissant voice\nand strong right arm of the leader of all the forces of British\nliberalism.\n\nThey suddenly learned that if they took a certain step in respect of the\nleadership of their own party, the alliance was broken off, the most\npowerful of Englishmen could help them no more, and that all the dreary\nand desperate marches since 1880 were to be faced once again in a blind\nand endless campaign, against the very party to whose friendship they had\nbeen taught to look for strength, encouragement, and victory. Well might\nthey recoil. More astounded still, they learned at the same time that they\nhad already taken the momentous step in the dark, and that the knowledge\nof what they were doing, the pregnant meanings and the tremendous\nconsequences of it, had been carefully concealed from them. Never were\nconsternation, panic, distraction, and resentment better justified.\n\nThe Irishmen were anxious to meet at once. Their leader sat moodily in the\nsmoking-room downstairs. His faculty of concentrated vision had by this\ntime revealed to him the certainty of a struggle, and its intensity. He\nknew in minute detail every element of peril both at Westminster and in\nIreland. A few days before, he mentioned to the present writer his\nsuspicion of designs on foot in ecclesiastical quarters, though he\ndeclared that he had no fear of them. He may have surmised that the\ndemonstration at the Leinster Hall was superficial and impulsive. On the\nother hand, his confidence in the foundations of his dictatorship was\nunshaken. This being so, if deliberate calculation were the universal\nmainspring of every statesman's action--as it assuredly is not nor can ever\nbe--he would have spontaneously withdrawn for a season, in the (M156)\nassurance that if signs of disorganisation were to appear among his\nfollowers, his prompt return from Elba would be instantly demanded in\nIreland, whether or no it were acquiesced in by the leaders and main army\nof liberals in England. That would have been both politic and decent, even\nif we conceive his mind to have been working in another direction. He may,\nfor instance, have believed that the scandal had destroyed the chances of\na liberal victory at the election, whether he stayed or withdrew. Why\nshould he surrender his position in Ireland and over contending factions\nin America, in reliance upon an English party to which, as he was well\naware, he had just dealt a smashing blow? These speculations, however,\nupon the thoughts that may have been slowly moving through his mind, are\nhardly worth pursuing. Unluckily, the stubborn impulses of defiance that\ncame naturally to his temperament were aroused to their most violent pitch\nand swept all calculations of policy aside. He now proceeded passionately\nto dash into the dust the whole fabric of policy which he had with such\ninfinite sagacity, patience, skill, and energy devised and reared.\n\nTwo short private memoranda from his own hand on this transaction, I find\namong Mr. Gladstone's papers. He read them to me at the time, and they\nillustrate his habitual practice of shaping and clearing his thought and\nrecollection by committal to black and white:--\n\n\n _Nov. 26, 1890._--Since the month of December 1885 my whole\n political life has been governed by a supreme regard to the Irish\n question. For every day, I may say, of these five, we have been\n engaged in laboriously rolling up hill the stone of Sisyphus. Mr.\n Parnell's decision of yesterday means that the stone is to break\n away from us and roll down again to the bottom of the hill. I\n cannot recall the years which have elapsed. It was daring,\n perhaps, to begin, at the age I had then attained, a process which\n it was obvious must be a prolonged one.\n\n Simply to recommence it now, when I am within a very few weeks of\n the age at which Lord Palmerston, the marvel of parliamentary\n longevity, succumbed, and to contemplate my accompanying the cause\n of home rule to its probable triumph a rather long course of years\n hence, would be more than daring; it would be presumptuous. My\n views must be guided by rational probabilities, and they exclude\n any such anticipation. My statement, therefore, that my leadership\n would, under the contemplated decision of Mr. Parnell, be almost a\n nullity, is a moderate statement of the case. I have been\n endeavouring during all these years to reason with the voters of\n the kingdom, and when the voter now tells me that he cannot give a\n vote for making the Mr. Parnell of to-day the ruler of Irish\n affairs under British sanction, I do not know how to answer him,\n and I have yet to ask myself formally the question what under\n those circumstances is to be done. I must claim entire and\n absolute liberty to answer that question as I may think right.\n\n _Nov. 28, 1890._--The few following words afford a key to my\n proceedings in the painful business of the Irish leadership.\n\n It was at first my expectation, and afterwards my desire, that Mr.\n Parnell would retire by a perfectly spontaneous act. As the\n likelihood of such a course became less and less, while time ran\n on, and the evidences of coming disaster were accumulated, I\n thought it would be best that he should be impelled to withdraw,\n but by an influence conveyed to him, at least, from within the\n limits of his own party. I therefore begged Mr. Justin McCarthy to\n acquaint Mr. Parnell of what I thought as to the consequences of\n his continuance; I also gave explanations of my meaning, including\n a reference to myself; and I begged that my message to Mr. Parnell\n might be made known to the Irish party, in the absence of a\n spontaneous retirement.\n\n This was on Monday afternoon. But there was no certainty either of\n finding Mr. Parnell, or of an impression on him through one of his\n own followers. I therefore wrote the letter to Mr. Morley, as a\n more delicate form of proceeding than a direct communication from\n myself, but also as a stronger measure than that taken through Mr.\n McCarthy, because it was more full, and because, as it was in\n writing, it admitted of the ulterior step of immediate\n publication. Mr. Morley could not find Mr. Parnell until after the\n first meeting of the Irish party on Monday. When we found that Mr.\n McCarthy's representation had had no effect, that the Irish party\n had not been informed, and that Mr. Morley's making known the\n material parts of my letter was likewise without result, it at\n once was decided to publish the letter; just too late for the\n _Pall Mall Gazette_, it was given for publication to the morning\n papers, and during the evening it became known in the lobbies of\n the House.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nMr. Parnell took up his new ground in a long manifesto to the Irish people\n(November 29). It was free of rhetoric and ornament, but the draught was\nskilfully brewed. He charged Mr. Gladstone with having revealed to him\nduring his visit at Hawarden in the previous December, that in a future\nscheme of home rule the Irish members would be cut down from 103 to 32,\nland was to be withdrawn from the competency of the Irish legislature, and\nthe control of the constabulary would be reserved to the Imperial\nauthority for an indefinite period, though Ireland would have to find the\nmoney all the time. This perfidious truncation of self-government by Mr.\nGladstone was matched by an attempt on my part as his lieutenant only a\nfew days before, to seduce the Irish party into accepting places in a\nliberal government, and this gross bribe of mine was accompanied by a\ndespairing avowal that the hapless evicted tenants must be flung\noverboard. In other words, the English leaders intended to play Ireland\nfalse, and Mr. Parnell stood between his country and betrayal. Such a\nstory was unluckily no new one in Irish history since the union. On that\ntheme Mr. Parnell played many adroit variations during the eventful days\nthat followed. Throw me to the English wolves if you like, he said, but at\nany rate make sure that real home rule and not its shadow is to be your\nprice, and that they mean to pay it. This was to awaken the spectre of old\nsuspicions, and to bring to life again those forces of violence and\ndesperation which it had been the very crown of his policy to exorcise.\n\nThe reply on the Hawarden episode was prompt. Mr. Gladstone asserted that\nthe whole discussion was one of those informal exchanges of view which go\nto all political action, and in which men feel the ground and discover the\nleanings of one another's minds. No single proposal was made, no\nproposition was mentioned to which a binding assent was sought. Points of\npossible improvement in the bill of 1886 were named as having arisen in\nMr. Gladstone's mind, or been suggested by others, but no positive\nconclusions were asked for or were expected or were possible. Mr. Parnell\nquite agreed that the real difficulty lay in finding the best form in\nwhich Irish representation should be retained at Westminster, but both saw\nthe wisdom and necessity of leaving deliberation free until the time\nshould come for taking practical steps. He offered no serious objection on\nany point; much less did he say that they augured any disappointment of\nIrish aspirations. Apart from this denial, men asked themselves how it was\nthat if Mr. Parnell knew that the cause was already betrayed, he yet for a\nyear kept the black secret to himself, and blew Mr. Gladstone's praise\nwith as loud a trumpet as before?(276) As for my own guilty attempt at\ncorruption in proposing an absorption of the Irish party in English\npolitics by means of office and emolument, I denied it with reasonable\nemphasis at the time, and it does not concern us here, nor in fact\nanywhere else.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nWe now come to what was in its day the famous story of Committee Room\nFifteen, so called from the chamber in which the next act of this dismal\nplay went on.(277) The proceedings between the leader and his party were\nwatched with an eagerness that has never been surpassed in this kingdom or\nin America. They were protracted, intense, dramatic, and the issue for a\ntime hung in poignant doubt. The party interest of the scene was supreme,\nfor if the Irishmen should rally to their chief, then the English alliance\nwas at an end, Mr. Gladstone would virtually close (M157) his illustrious\ncareer, the rent in the liberal ranks might be repaired, and leading men\nand important sections would all group themselves afresh. \"Let us all keep\nquiet,\" said one important unionist, \"we may now have to revise our\npositions.\" Either way, the serpent of faction would raise its head in\nIreland, and the strong life of organised and concentrated nationalism\nwould perish in its coils. The personal interest was as vivid as the\npolitical,--the spectacle of a man of infinite boldness, determination,\nastuteness, and resource, with the will and pride of Lucifer, at bay with\nfortune and challenging a malignant star. Some talked of the famous Ninth\nThermidor, when Robespierre fought inch by inch the fierce struggle that\nended in his ruin. Others talked of the old mad discord of Zealot and\nHerodian in face of the Roman before the walls of Jerusalem. The great\nveteran of English politics looked on, wrathful and astounded at a\npreternatural perversity for which sixty years of public life could\nfurnish him no parallel. The sage public looked on, some with the same\ninterest that would in ancient days have made them relish a combat of\ngladiators; others with glee at the mortification of political opponents;\nothers again with honest disgust at what threatened to be the ignoble rout\nof a beneficent policy.\n\nIt was the fashion for the moment in fastidious reactionary quarters to\nspeak of the actors in this ordeal as \"a hustling group of yelling\nrowdies.\" Seldom have terms so censorious been more misplaced. All depends\nupon the point of view. Men on a raft in a boiling sea have something to\nthink of besides deportment and the graces of serenity. As a matter of\nfact, even hostile judges then and since agreed that no case was ever\nbetter opened within the walls of Westminster than in the three speeches\nmade on the first day by Mr. Sexton and Mr. Healy on the one side, and Mr.\nRedmond on the other. In gravity, dignity, acute perception, and that good\nfaith which is the soul of real as distinct from spurious debate, the\nparliamentary critic recognises them as all of the first order. So for the\nmost part things continued. It was not until a protracted game had gone\nbeyond limits of reason and patience, that words sometimes flamed high.\nExperience of national assemblies gives no reason to suppose that a body\nof French, German, Spanish, Italian, or even of English, Scotch, Welsh, or\nAmerican politicians placed in circumstances of equal excitement, arising\nfrom an incident in itself at once so squalid and so provocative, would\nhave borne the strain with any more self-control.\n\nMr. Parnell presided, frigid, severe, and lofty, \"as if,\" said one\npresent, \"it were we who had gone astray, and he were sitting there to\njudge us.\" Six members were absent in America, including Mr. Dillon and\nMr. O'Brien, two of the most important of all after Mr. Parnell himself.\nThe attitude of this pair was felt to be a decisive element. At first,\nunder the same impulse as moved the Leinster Hall meeting, they allowed\ntheir sense of past achievement to close their eyes; they took for granted\nthe impossible, that religious Britain and religious Ireland would blot\nwhat had happened out of their thoughts; and so they stood for Mr.\nParnell's leadership. The grim facts of the case were rapidly borne in\nupon them. The defiant manifesto convinced them that the leadership could\nnot be continued. Travelling from Cincinnati to Chicago, they read it,\nmade up their minds, and telegraphed to anxious colleagues in London. They\nspoke with warmth of Mr. Parnell's services, but protested against his\nunreasonable charges of servility to liberal wirepullers; they described\nthe \"endeavours to fasten the responsibility for what had happened upon\nMr. Gladstone and Mr. Morley\" as reckless and unjust; and they foresaw in\nthe position of isolation, discredit, and international ill-feeling which\nMr. Parnell had now created, nothing but ruin for the cause. This\ndeliverance from such a quarter (November 30) showed that either\nabdication or deposition was inevitable.\n\nThe day after Mr. Parnell's manifesto, the bishops came out of their\nshells. Cardinal Manning had more than once written most urgently to the\nIrish prelates the moment the decree was known, that Parnell could not be\nupheld in London, and that no political expediency could outweigh the\nmoral sense. He knew well enough that the bishops in (M158) Ireland were\nin a very difficult strait, but insisted \"that plain and prompt speech was\nsafest.\" It was now a case, he said to Mr. Gladstone (November 29), of\n_res ad triarios_, and it was time for the Irish clergy to speak out from\nthe housetops. He had also written to Rome. \"Did I not tell you,\" said Mr.\nGladstone when he gave me this letter to read, \"that the Pope would now\nhave one of the ten commandments on his side?\" \"We have been slow to act,\"\nDr. Walsh telegraphed to one of the Irish members (November 30), \"trusting\nthat the party will act manfully. Our considerate silence and reserve are\nbeing dishonestly misinterpreted.\" \"All sorry for Parnell,\" telegraphed\nDr. Croke, the Archbishop of Cashel--a manly and patriotic Irishman if ever\none was--\"but still, in God's name, let him retire quietly and with good\ngrace from the leadership. If he does so, the Irish party will be kept\ntogether, the honourable alliance with Gladstonian liberals maintained,\nsuccess at general election secured, home rule certain. If he does not\nretire, alliance will be dissolved, election lost, Irish party seriously\ndamaged if not wholly broken up, home rule indefinitely postponed,\ncoercion perpetuated, evicted tenants hopelessly crushed, and the public\nconscience outraged. Manifesto flat and otherwise discreditable.\" This was\nemphatic enough, but many of the flock had already committed themselves\nbefore the pastors spoke. To Dr. Croke, Mr. Gladstone wrote (Dec. 2): \"We\nin England seem to have done our part within our lines, and what remains\nis for Ireland itself. I am as unwilling as Mr. Parnell himself could be,\nto offer an interference from without, for no one stands more stoutly than\nI do for the independence of the Irish national party as well as for its\nunity.\"\n\nA couple of days later (Dec. 2) a division was taken in Room Fifteen upon\na motion made in Mr. Parnell's interest, to postpone the discussion until\nthey could ascertain the views of their constituents, and then meet in\nDublin. It was past midnight. The large room, dimly lighted by a few lamps\nand candles placed upon the horse-shoe tables, was more than half in\nshadow. Mr. Parnell, his features barely discernible in the gloom, held a\nprinted list of the party in his hand, and he put the question in cold,\nunmoved tones. The numbers were 29 for the motion--that is to say, for him,\nand 44 against him. Of the majority, many had been put on their trial with\nhim in 1880; had passed months in prison with him under the first Coercion\nAct and suffered many imprisonments besides; they had faced storm,\nobloquy, and hatred with him in the House of Commons, a place where\nobloquy stings through tougher than Hibernian skins; they had undergone\nwith him the long ordeal of the three judges; they had stood by his side\nwith unswerving fidelity from the moment when his band was first founded\nfor its mortal struggle down to to-day, when they saw the fruits of the\nstruggle flung recklessly away, and the policy that had given to it all\nits reason and its only hope, wantonly brought to utter foolishness by a\nsuicidal demonstration that no English party and no English leader could\never be trusted. If we think of even the least imaginative of them as\nhaunted by such memories of the past, such distracting fears for the\nfuture, it was little wonder that when they saw Mr. Parnell slowly casting\nup the figures, and heard his voice through the sombre room announcing the\nominous result, they all sat, both ayes and noes, in profound and painful\nstillness. Not a sound was heard, until the chairman rose and said without\nan accent of emotion that it would now be well for them to adjourn until\nthe next day.\n\nThis was only the beginning. Though the ultimate decision of the party was\nquite certain, every device of strategy and tactics was meanwhile\nresolutely employed to avert it. His supple and trenchant blade was still\nin the hands of a consummate swordsman. It is not necessary to\nrecapitulate all the moves in Mr. Parnell's grand manoeuvre for turning the\neyes of Ireland away from the question of leadership to the question of\nliberal good faith and the details of home rule. Mr. Gladstone finally\nannounced that only after the question of leadership had been disposed\nof--one belonging entirely to the competence of the Irish party--could he\nrenew former relations, and once more enter into confidential\ncommunications with any of them. There was only one guarantee, he said,\nthat could be of any (M159) value to Ireland, namely the assured and\nunalterable fact that no English leader and no party could ever dream of\neither proposing or carrying any scheme of home rule which had not the\nfull support of Irish representatives. This was obvious to all the world.\nMr. Parnell knew it well enough, and the members knew it, but the members\nwere bound to convince their countrymen that they had exhausted compliance\nwith every hint from their falling leader, while Mr. Parnell's only object\nwas to gain time, to confuse issues, and to carry the battle over from\nWestminster to the more buoyant and dangerously charged atmosphere of\nIreland.\n\nThe majority resisted as long as they could the evidence that Mr. Parnell\nwas audaciously trifling with them and openly abusing his position as\nchairman. On the evening of Friday (December 5) Mr. Sexton and Mr. Healy\nwent to Mr. Parnell after the last communication from Mr. Gladstone. They\nurged him to bend to the plain necessities of the case. He replied that he\nwould take the night to consider. The next morning (December 6) they\nreturned to him. He informed them that his responsibility to Ireland would\nnot allow him to retire. They warned him that the majority would not\nendure further obstruction beyond that day, and would withdraw. As they\nleft, Mr. Parnell wished to shake hands, \"if it is to be the last time.\"\nThey all shook hands, and then went once more to the field of action.\n\nIt was not until after some twelve days of this excitement and stress that\nthe scene approached such disorder as has often before and since been\nknown in the House of Commons. The tension at last had begun to tell upon\nthe impassive bronze of Mr. Parnell himself. He no longer made any\npretence of the neutrality of the chair. He broke in upon one speaker more\nthan forty times. In a flash of rage he snatched a paper from another\nspeaker's hand. The hours wore away, confusion only became worse\nconfounded, and the conclusion on both sides was foregone. Mr. McCarthy at\nlast rose, and in a few moderate sentences expressed his opinion that\nthere was no use in continuing a discussion that must be barren of\nanything but reproach, bitterness, and indignity, and he would therefore\nsuggest that those who were of the same mind should withdraw. Then he\nmoved from the table, and his forty-four colleagues stood up and silently\nfollowed him out of the room. In silence they were watched by the minority\nwho remained, in number twenty-six.(278)\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nA vacancy at Bassetlaw gave Mr. Gladstone an opportunity of describing the\ngrounds on which he had acted. His speech was measured and weighty, but\nthe result showed the effect of the disaster. The tide, that a few weeks\nbefore had been running so steadily, now turned. The unionist vote\nremained almost the same as in 1885; the liberal vote showed a falling off\nof over 400 and the unionist majority was increased from 295 to 728.\n\nAbout this time having to go to Ireland, on my way back I stopped at\nHawarden, and the following note gives a glimpse of Mr. Gladstone at this\nevil moment (Dec. 17):--\n\n\n I found him in his old corner in the \"temple of peace.\" He was\n only half recovered from a bad cold, and looked in his worsted\n jacket, and dark tippet over his shoulders, and with his white,\n deep-furrowed face, like some strange Ancient of Days: so\n different from the man whom I had seen off at King's Cross less\n than a week before. He was cordial as always, but evidently in\n some perturbation. I sat down and told him what I had heard from\n different quarters about the approaching Kilkenny election. I\n mentioned X. as a Parnellite authority. \"What,\" he flamed up with\n passionate vehemence, \"X. a Parnellite! Are they mad, then? Are\n they clean demented?\" etc. etc.\n\n I gave him my general impression as to the future. The bare idea\n that Parnell might find no inconsiderable following came upon him\n as if it had been a thunder-clap. He listened, and catechised, and\n knit his brow.\n\n _Mr. G._--What do you think we should do in case (1) of a divided\n Ireland, (2) of a Parnellite Ireland?\n\n _J. M._--It is too soon to settle what to think. But, looking to\n Irish interests, I think a Parnellite Ireland infinitely better\n than a divided Ireland. Anything better than an Ireland divided,\n so far as she is concerned.\n\n _Mr. G._--Bassetlaw looks as if we were going back to 1886. For me\n that is notice to quit. Another five years' agitation at my age\n would be impossible--_ludicrous_ (with much emphasis).\n\n _J. M._--I cannot profess to be surprised that in face of these\n precious dissensions men should have misgivings, or that even\n those who were with us, should now make up their minds to wait a\n little.\n\n I said what there was to be said for Parnell's point of view;\n that, in his words to me of Nov. 25, he \"must look to the future\";\n that he was only five and forty; that he might well fear that\n factions would spring up in Ireland if he were to go; that he\n might have made up his mind, that whether he went or stayed, we\n should lose the general election when it came. The last notion\n seemed quite outrageous to Mr. G., and he could not suppose that\n it had ever entered Parnell's head.\n\n _Mr. G._--You have no regrets at the course we took?\n\n _J. M._--None--none. It was inevitable. I have never doubted. That\n does not prevent lamentation that it was inevitable. It is the old\n story. English interference is always at the root of mischief in\n Ireland. But how could we help what we did? We had a right to\n count on Parnell's sanity and his sincerity....\n\n Mr. G. then got up and fished out of a drawer the memorandum of\n his talk with Parnell at Hawarden on Dec. 18, 1889, and also a\n memorandum written for his own use on the general political\n position at the time of the divorce trial. The former contained\n not a word as to the constabulary, and in other matters only put a\n number of points, alternative courses, etc., without a single\n final or definite decision. While he was fishing in his drawer, he\n said, as if speaking to himself, \"It looks as if I should get my\n release even sooner than I had expected.\"\n\n \"That,\" I said, \"is a momentous matter which will need immense\n deliberation.\" So it will, indeed.\n\n _Mr. G._--Do you recall anything in history like the present\n distracted scenes in Ireland?\n\n _J. M._--Florence, Pisa, or some other Italian city, with the\n French or the Emperor at the gates?\n\n _Mr. G._--I'll tell you what is the only thing that I can think of\n as at all like it. Do you remember how it was at the siege of\n Jerusalem--the internecine fury of the Jewish factions, the\n {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER ZETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}, and the rest--while Titus and the legions were marching on\n the city!\n\n We went in to luncheon. Something was said of our friend ----, and\n the new found malady, Renault's disease.\n\n _J. M._--Joseph de Maistre says that in the innocent primitive ages\n men died of diseases without names.\n\n _Mr. G._--Homer never mentions diseases at all.\n\n _J. M._--Not many of them die a natural death in Homer.\n\n _Mr. G._--Do you not recollect where Odysseus meets his mother\n among the shades, and she says:--\n\n {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI AND PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} ...\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER OMICRON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PERISPOMENI~},\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH OXIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}.(279)\n\n _J. M._--Beautiful lines. {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} such a tender word, and it is\n untranslatable.\n\n _Mr. G._--Oh, _desiderium_.\n\n \"Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus\n Tam cari capitis.\"(280)\n\n _J. M._--The Scotch word \"_wearying_\" for somebody. And\n _Sehnsucht_.\n\n Then Mr. G. went off to his library to hunt up the reference, and\n when I followed him, I found the worn old _Odyssey_ open at the\n passage in the eleventh book. As he left the room, he looked at me\n and said, \"Ah, this is very different stuff for talking about,\n from all the wretched work we were speaking of just now. Homer's\n fellows would have cut a very different figure, and made short\n work in that committee room last week!\" We had a few more words on\n politics.... So I bade him good-bye.... #/\n\n\n(M160) In view of the horrors of dissension in Ireland, well-meaning\nattempts were made at the beginning of the year to bring about an\nunderstanding. The Irish members, returning from America where the schism\nat home had quenched all enthusiasm and killed their operations, made\ntheir way to Boulogne, for the two most important among them were liable\nto instant arrest if they were found in the United Kingdom. They thought\nthat Mr. Parnell was really desirous to withdraw on such terms as would\nsave his self-respect, and if he could plead hereafter that before giving\nway he had secured a genuine scheme of home rule. Some suspicion may well\nhave arisen in their minds when a strange suggestion came from Mr. Parnell\nthat the liberal leaders should enter into a secret engagement about\nconstabulary and the other points. He had hardly given such happy evidence\nof his measure of the sanctity of political confidences, as to encourage\nfurther experiments. The proposal was absurd on the face of it. These\nsuspicions soon became certainties, and the Boulogne negotiations came to\nan end. I should conjecture that those days made the severest ordeal\nthrough which Mr. Gladstone, with his extreme sensibility and his\nabhorrence of personal contention, ever passed. Yet his facility and\nversatility of mood was unimpaired, as a casual note or two of mine may\nshow:--\n\n\n ... Mr. G.'s confabulation [with an Irish member] proved to have\n been sought for the purpose of warning him that Parnell was about\n to issue a manifesto in which he would make all manner of\n mischief. Mr. G. and I had a few moments in the room at the back\n of the chair; he seemed considerably perturbed, pale, and\n concentrated. We walked into the House together; he picked up the\n points of the matter in hand (a motion for appropriating all the\n time) and made one of the gayest, brightest, and most delightful\n speeches in the world--the whole House enjoying it consumedly. Who\n else could perform these magic transitions?\n\n -------------------------------------\n\n Mr. G. came into the House, looking rather anxious; gave us an\n account of his interview with the Irish deputation; and in the\n midst of it got up to say his few sentences of condolence with the\n Speaker on the death of Mrs. Peel--the closing phrases admirably\n chosen, and the tones of his voice grave, sincere, sonorous, and\n compassionate. When he sat down, he resumed his talk with H. and\n me. He was so touched, he said, by those \"poor wretches\" on the\n deputation, that he would fain, if he could, make some\n announcement that would ease their unlucky position.\n\n [A question of a letter in reply to some application prompted by\n Mr. Parnell. Mr. Gladstone asked two of us to try our hands at a\n draft.] At last we got it ready for him and presently we went to\n his room. It was now six o'clock. Mr. G. read aloud in full deep\n voice the letter he had prepared on the base of our short draft.\n We suggested this and that, and generally argued about phrases for\n an hour, winding up with a terrific battle on two prodigious\n points: (1) whether he ought to say, \"after this statement of my\n views,\" or \"I have now fully stated my views on the points you\n raise\"; (2) \"You will _doubtless_ concur,\" or \"_probably_ concur.\"\n Most characteristic, most amazing. It was past seven before the\n veteran would let go--and then I must say that he looked his full\n years. Think what his day had been, in mere intellectual strain,\n apart from what strains him far more than that--his strife with\n persons and his compassion for the unlucky Irishmen. I heard\n afterwards that when he got home, he was for once in his life done\n up, and on the following morning he lay in bed. All the same, in\n the evening he went to see _Antony and Cleopatra_, and he had a\n little ovation. As he drove away the crowd cheered him with cries\n of \"Bravo, don't you mind Parnell!\" Plenty of race feeling left,\n in spite of union of hearts!\n\n\nNo leader ever set a finer example under reverse than did Mr. Gladstone\nduring these tedious and desperate proceedings. He was steadfastly loyal,\nconsiderate, and sympathetic towards the Irishmen who had trusted him; his\nfirm patience was not for a moment worn out; in vain a boisterous wave now\nand again beat upon him from one quarter or another. Not for a moment was\nhe shaken; even under these starless skies his faith never drooped. \"The\npublic mischief,\" he wrote to Lord Acton (Dec. 27, 1890), \"ought to put\nout of view every private thought. But the blow to me is very heavy--the\nheaviest I ever have received. It is a great and high call to work by\nfaith and not by sight.\"\n\nOccasion had already offered for testing the feeling of Ireland. There was\na vacancy in the representation of Kilkenny, and the Parnellite candidate\nhad been defeated.\n\n\n _To J. Morley._\n\n _Hawarden, Dec. 23, 1890._--Since your letter arrived this morning,\n the Kilkenny poll has brightened the sky. It will have a great\n effect in Ireland, although it is said not to be a representative\n constituency, but one too much for us. It is a great gain; and yet\n sad enough to think that even here one-third of the voters should\n be either rogues or fools. I suppose the ballot has largely\n contributed to save Kilkenny. It will be most interesting to learn\n how the tories voted.\n\n I return your enclosure.... I have ventured, without asking your\n leave, on keeping a copy of a part. Only in one proposition do I\n differ from you. I would rather see Ireland disunited than see it\n Parnellite.\n\n I think that as the atmosphere is quiet for the moment we had\n better give ourselves the benefit of a little further time for\n reflection. Personally, I am hard hit. My course of life was\n daring enough as matters stood six weeks ago. How it will shape in\n the new situation I cannot tell. But this is the selfish part.\n Turning for a moment to the larger outlook, I am extremely\n indisposed to any harking back in the matter of home rule; we are\n now, I think, freed from the enormous danger of seeing P. master\n in Ireland; division and its consequences in diminishing force,\n are the worst we have to fear. What my mind leans to in a way\n still vague is to rally ourselves by some affirmative legislation\n taken up by and on behalf of the party. Something of this kind\n would be the best source to look to for reparative strength.\n\n _To Lord Acton._\n\n _Jan. 9, 1891._--To a greybeard in a hard winter the very name of\n the south is musical, and the kind letters from you and Lord\n Hampden make it harmony as well as melody. But I have been and am\n chained to the spot by this Parnell business, and every day have\n to consider in one shape or other what ought to be said by myself\n or others.... I consider the Parnell chapter of politics finally\n closed for us, the British liberals, at least during my time. He\n has been even worse since the divorce court than he was in it. The\n most astounding revelation of my lifetime.\n\n -------------------------------------\n\n _To J. Morley._\n\n _Hawarden, Dec. 30, 1890._--I must not longer delay thanking you\n for your most kind and much valued letter on my birthday--a\n birthday more formidable than usual, on account of the recent\n disasters, which, however, may all come to good. If I am able to\n effect in the world anything useful, be assured I know how much of\n it is owed to the counsel and consort of my friends.\n\n It is not indeed the common lot of man to make serious additions\n to the friendships which so greatly help us in this pilgrimage,\n after seventy-six years old; but I rejoice to think that in your\n case it has been accomplished for me.\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nA few more sentences will end this chapter in Mr. Gladstone's life. As we\nhave seen, an election took place in the closing days of December 1890.\nMr. Parnell flung himself into the contest with frantic activity. A fierce\nconflict ended in the defeat of his candidate by nearly two to one.(281)\nThree months later a contest occurred in Sligo. Here again, though he had\nstrained every nerve in the interval as well as in the immediate struggle,\nhis candidate was beaten.(282) Another three months, then a third election\nat Carlow,--with the same result, the rejection of Mr. Parnell's man by a\nmajority of much more than two to one.(283) It was in vain that his\nadherents denounced those who had left him as mutineers and helots, and\nexalted him as \"truer than Tone, abler than Grattan, greater than\nO'Connell, full of love for Ireland as Thomas Davis himself.\" On the other\nside, he encountered antagonism in every key, from pathetic remonstrance\nor earnest reprobation, down to an unsparing fury that savoured (M161) of\nthe ruthless factions of the Seine. In America almost every name of\nconsideration was hostile.\n\nYet undaunted by repulse upon repulse, he tore over from England to\nIreland and back again, week after week and month after month, hoarse and\nhaggard, seamed by sombre passions, waving the shreds of a tattered flag.\nIreland must have been a hell on earth to him. To those Englishmen who\ncould not forget that they had for so long been his fellow-workers, though\nthey were now the mark of his attack, these were dark and desolating days.\nNo more lamentable chapter is to be found in all the demented scroll of\naimless and untoward things, that seem as if they made up the history of\nIreland. It was not for very long. The last speech that Mr. Parnell ever\nmade in England was at Newcastle-on-Tyne in July 1891, when he told the\nold story about the liberal leaders, of whom he said that there was but\none whom he trusted. A few weeks later, not much more than ten months\nafter the miserable act had opened, the Veiled Shadow stole upon the\nscene, and the world learned that Parnell was no more.(284)\n\n\n\n\nChapter VI. Biarritz. (1891-1892)\n\n\n Omnium autem ineptiarum, quae sunt innumerabiles, haud sciam an\n nulla sit major, quam, ut illi solent, quocunque in loco,\n quoscunque inter homines visum est, de rebus aut difficillimis aut\n non necessariis argutissime disputare.--CICERO.\n\n Of all the numberless sorts of bad taste and want of tact, perhaps\n the worst is to insist, no matter where you are or with whom you\n are, on arguing about the hardest subjects to the full pitch of\n elaboration and detail.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nWe have seen how in 1889 Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone celebrated the fiftieth\nanniversary of one of the most devoted and successful marriages that ever\nwas made, and the unbroken felicity of their home. In 1891, after the\nshadows of approaching calamity had for many months hung doubtfully over\nthem, a heavy blow fell, and their eldest son died. Not deeply concerned\nin ordinary politics, he was a man of many virtues and some admirable\ngifts; he was an accomplished musician, and I have seen letters of his to\nhis father, marked by a rare delicacy of feeling and true power of\nexpression. \"I had known him for nearly thirty years,\" one friend wrote,\n\"and there was no man, until his long illness, who had changed so little,\nor retained so long the best qualities of youth, and my first thought was\nthat the greater the loss to you, the greater would be the consolation.\"\n\nTo Archbishop Benson, Mr. Gladstone wrote (July 6):--\n\n\n It is now forty-six years since we lost a child,(285) and he who\n has now passed away from our eyes, leaves to us only blessed\n recollections. I suppose all feel that those deaths which reverse\n the order of nature have a sharpness of their own. But setting\n this apart, there is nothing lacking to us in consolations human\n or divine. I can only wish that I may become less unworthy to have\n been his father.\n\n\nTo me he wrote (July 10):--\n\n\n We feel deeply the kindness and tenderness of your letter. It\n supplies one more link in a long chain of recollection which I\n deeply prize. Yes, ours is a tribulation, and a sore one, but yet\n we feel we ought to find ourselves carried out of ourselves by\n sympathy with the wife whose noble and absorbing devotion had\n become like an entire life of itself, and who is now face to face\n with the void. The grief of children too, which passes, is very\n sharp while it remains. The case has been very remarkable. Though\n with abatement of some powers, my son has not been without many\n among the signs and comforts of health during a period of nearly\n two and a half years. All this time the terrible enemy was lodged\n in the royal seat, and only his healthy and unyielding\n constitution kept it at defiance, and maintained his mental and\n inward life intact.... And most largely has human, as well as\n divine compassion, flowed in upon us, from none more conspicuously\n than from yourself, whom we hope to count among near friends for\n the short remainder of our lives.\n\n\nTo another correspondent who did not share his own religious beliefs, he\nsaid (July 5):--\n\n\n When I received your last kind note, I fully intended to write to\n you with freedom on the subject of _The Agnostic Island_. But\n since then I have been at close quarters, so to speak, with the\n dispensations of God, for yesterday morning my dearly beloved\n eldest son was taken from the sight of our eyes. At this moment of\n bleeding hearts, I will only say what I hope you will in\n consideration of the motives take without offence, namely this: I\n would from the bottom of my heart that whenever the hour of\n bereavement shall befall you or those whom you love, you and they\n may enjoy the immeasurable consolation of believing, with all the\n mind and all the heart, that the beloved one is gone into eternal\n rest, and that those who remain behind may through the same mighty\n Deliverer hope at their appointed time to rejoin him.\n\n All this language on the great occasions of human life was not\n with him the tone of convention. Whatever the synthesis, as they\n call it,--whatever the form, whatever the creed and faith may be,\n he was one of that high and favoured household who, in Emerson's\n noble phrase, \"live from a great depth of being.\"\n\n\nEarlier in the year Lord Granville, who so long had been his best friend,\ndied. The loss by his death was severe. As Acton, who knew of their\nrelations well and from within, wrote to Mr. Gladstone (April 1):--\n\n\n There was an admirable fitness in your union, and I had been able\n to watch how it became closer and easier, in spite of so much to\n separate you, in mental habits, in early affinities, and even in\n the form of fundamental convictions, since he came home from your\n budget, overwhelmed, thirty-eight years ago. I saw all the\n connections which had their root in social habit fade before the\n one which took its rise from public life and proved more firm and\n more enduring than the rest.\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIn September he paid a visit to his relatives at Fasque, and thence he\nwent to Glenalmond--spots that in his tenacious memory must have awakened\nhosts of old and dear associations. On October 1, he found himself after a\nlong and busy day, at Newcastle-on-Tyne, where he had never stayed since\nhis too memorable visit in 1862.(286) Since the defeat of the Irish policy\nin 1886, he had attended the annual meeting of the chief liberal\norganisation at Nottingham (1887), Birmingham (1888), and Manchester\n(1889). This year it was the turn of Newcastle. On October 2, he gave his\nblessing to various measures that afterwards came to be known as the\nNewcastle programme. After the shock caused by the Irish quarrel, every\npolitician knew that it would be necessary to balance home rule by reforms\nexpected in England and Scotland. No liberal, whatever his particular\nshade, thought that it would be either honourable or practical to throw\nthe Irish policy overboard, and if there (M162) were any who thought such\na course honourable, they knew it would not be safe. The principle and\nexpediency of home rule had taken a much deeper root in the party than it\nsuited some of the trimming tribe later to admit. On the other hand, after\nfive years of pretty exclusive devotion to the Irish case, to pass by the\nBritish case and its various demands for an indefinite time longer, would\nhave been absurd.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIn the eighties Mr. Gladstone grew into close friendship with one who had\nfor many years been his faithful supporter in the House of Commons as\nmember for Dundee. Nobody ever showed him devotion more considerate,\nloyal, and unselfish than did Mr. Armitstead, from about the close of the\nparliament of 1880 down to the end of this story.(287) In the middle of\nDecember 1891 Mr. Armitstead planned a foreign trip for his hero, and\npersuaded me to join. Biarritz was to be our destination, and the\nexpedition proved a wonderful success. Some notes of mine, though intended\nonly for domestic consumption, may help to bring Mr. Gladstone in his\neasiest moods before the reader's eye. No new ideas struck fire, no\nparticular contribution was made to grand themes. But a great statesman on\na holiday may be forgiven for not trying to discover brand-new keys to\nphilosophy, history, and \"all the mythologies.\" As a sketch from life of\nthe veteran's buoyancy, vigour, genial freshness of heart and brain, after\nfour-score strenuous years, these few pages may be found of interest.\n\n -------------------------------------\n\nWe left Paris at nine in the morning (Dec. 16), and were listening to the\nswell of the mighty Bay resounding under our windows at Biarritz soon\nafter midnight.\n\nThe long day's journey left no signs of fatigue on either Mr. or Mrs.\nGladstone, and his only regret was that we had not come straight through\ninstead of staying a night in Paris. I'm always for going straight on, he\nsaid. For some odd reason in spite of the late hour he was full of stories\nof American humour, which he told with extraordinary verve and enjoyment.\nI contributed one that amused him much, of the Bostonian who, having read\nShakespeare for the first time, observed, \"I call that a very clever book.\nNow, I don't suppose there are twenty men in Boston to-day who could have\nwritten that book!\"\n\n_Thursday, Dec. 17._--Splendid morning for making acquaintance with a new\nplace. Saw the western spur of the Pyrenees falling down to the Bidassoa\nand the first glimpse of the giant wall, beyond which, according to\nMichelet, Africa begins, and our first glimpse of Spain.\n\nAfter breakfast we all sallied forth to look into the shops and to see the\nlie of the land. Mr. G. as interested as a child in all the objects in the\nshops--many of them showing that we are not far from Spain. The consul very\npolite, showed us about, and told us the hundred trifles that bring a\nplace really into one's mind. Nothing is like a first morning's stroll in\na foreign town. By afternoon the spell dissolves, and the mood comes of\nDante's lines, \"_Era gia l'ora_,\" etc.(288)\n\nSome mention was made of Charles Austin, the famous lawyer: it brought up\nthe case of men who are suddenly torn from lives of great activity to\ncomplete idleness.\n\n_Mr. G._--I don't know how to reconcile it with what I've always regarded\nas the foundation of character--Bishop Butler's view of habit. How comes it\nthat during the hundreds of years in which priests and fellows of Eton\nCollege have retired from hard work to college livings and leisure, not\none of them has ever done anything whatever for either scholarship or\ndivinity--not one?\n\nMr. G. did not know Mazzini, but Armellini, another of the Roman\ntriumvirs, taught him Italian in 1832. (M163) I spoke a word for Gambetta,\nbut he would not have it. \"Gambetta was _autoritaire_; I do not feel as if\nhe were a true liberal in the old and best sense. I cannot forget how\nhostile he was to the movement for freedom in the Balkans.\"\n\nSaid he only once saw Lord Liverpool. He went to call on Canning at\nGlos'ter House (close to our Glos'ter Road Station), and there through a\nglass door he saw Canning and Lord Liverpool talking together.\n\n_Peel._--Had a good deal of temper; not hot; but perhaps sulky. Not a\nfarsighted man, but fairly clear-sighted. \"I called upon him after the\nelection in 1847. The Janissaries, as Bentinck called us, that is the men\nwho had stood by Peel, had been 110 before the election; we came back only\n50. Peel said to me that what he looked forward to was a long and fierce\nstruggle on behalf of protection. I must say I thought this foolish. If\nBentinck had lived, with his strong will and dogged industry, there might\nhave been a wide rally for protection, but everybody knew that Dizzy did\nnot care a straw about it, and Derby had not constancy and force enough.\"\n\nMr. G. said Disraeli's performances against Peel were quite as wonderful\nas report makes them. Peel altogether helpless in reply. Dealt with them\nwith a kind of \"righteous dulness.\" The Protectionist secession due to\nthree men: Derby contributed prestige; Bentinck backbone; and Dizzy\nparliamentary brains.\n\nThe golden age of administrative reform was from 1832 to the Crimean War;\nPeel was always keenly interested in the progress of these reforms.\n\n_Northcote._--\"He was my private secretary; and one of the very best\nimaginable; pliant, ready, diligent, quick, acute, with plenty of humour,\nand a temper simply perfect. But as a leader, I think ill of him; you had\na conversation; he saw the reason of your case; and when he left, you\nsupposed all was right. But at the second interview, you always found that\nhe had been unable to persuade his friends. What could be weaker than his\nconduct on the Bradlaugh affair! You could not wonder that the rank and\nfile of his men should be caught by the proposition that an atheist ought\nnot to sit in parliament. But what is a leader good for, if he dare not\ntell his party that in a matter like this they are wrong, and of course\nnobody knew better than N. that they were wrong. A clever, quick man with\nfine temper. By the way, how is it that we have no word, no respectable\nword, for backbone?\"\n\n_J. M._--Character?\n\n_Mr. G._--Well, character; yes; but that's vague. It means will, I suppose.\n(I ought to have thought of Novalis's well-known definition of character\nas \"a completely fashioned will.\")\n\n_J. M._--Our inferiority to the Greeks in discriminations of language shown\nby our lack of precise equivalents for {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}, etc.,\nof which we used to hear so much when coached in the _Ethics_.\n\nMr. G. went on to argue that because the Greeks drew these fine\ndistinctions in words, they were superior in conduct. \"You cannot beat the\nGreeks in noble qualities.\"\n\n_Mr. G._--I admit there is no Greek word of good credit for the virtue of\nhumility.\n\n_J. M._--{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~}? But that has an association of meanness.\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes; a shabby sort of humility. Humility as a sovereign grace is\nthe creation of Christianity.\n\n_Friday, December 18._--Brilliant sunshine, but bitterly cold; an east wind\nblowing straight from the Maritime Alps. Walking, reading, talking. Mr. G.\nafter breakfast took me into his room, where he is reading Heine, Butcher\non Greek genius, and Marbot. Thought Thiers's well-known remark on Heine's\ndeath capital,--\"To-day the wittiest Frenchman alive has died.\"\n\n_Mr. G._--We have talked about the best line in poetry, etc. How do you\nanswer this question--Which century of English history produced the\ngreatest men?\n\n_J. M._--What do you say to the sixteenth?\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes, I think so. Gardiner was a great man. Henry VIII. was great.\nBut bad. Poor Cranmer. Like Northcote, he'd no backbone. Do you remember\nJeremy Collier's sentence about his bravery at the stake, which (M164) I\ncount one of the grandest in English prose--\"He seemed to repel the force\nof the fire and to overlook the torture, by strength of thought.\"(289)\nThucydides could not beat that.\n\nThe old man twice declaimed the sentence with deep sonorous voice, and his\nusual incomparable modulation.\n\nMr. G. talked of a certain General ----. He was thought to be a first-rate\nman; neglected nothing, looked to things himself, conceived admirable\nplans, and at last got an important command. Then to the universal\nsurprise, nothing came of it; ---- they said, \"could do everything that a\ncommander should do, except say, _Quick march_.\" There are plenty of\npoliticians of that stamp, but Mr. G. decidedly not one of them. I\nmentioned a farewell dinner given to ---- in the spring, by some rich man or\nother. It cost L560 for forty-eight guests! Flowers alone L150. Mr. G. on\nthis enormity, recalled a dinner to Talfourd about copyright at the old\nClarendon Hotel in Bond Street, and the price was L2, 17s. 6d. a head. The\nold East India Company used to give dinners at a cost of seven guineas a\nhead. He has a wonderfully lively interest for these matters, and his\ncuriosity as to the prices of things in the shop-windows is inexhaustible.\nWe got round to Goethe. Goethe, he said, never gave prominence to duty.\n\n_J. M._--Surely, surely in that fine psalm of life, _Das Goettliche_?\n\n_Mr. G._--Doellinger used to confront me with the _Iphigenie_ as a great\ndrama of duty.\n\nHe wished that I had known Doellinger--\"a man thoroughly from beginning to\nend of his life _purged of self_.\" Mistook the nature of the Irish\nquestions, from the erroneous view that Irish Catholicism is ultramontane,\nwhich it certainly is not.\n\n_Saturday, Dec. 19._--\n\nWhat is extraordinary is that all Mr. G.'s versatility, buoyancy, and the\nrest goes with the most profound accuracy and intense concentration when\nany point of public business is raised. Something was said of the salaries\nof bishops. He was ready in an instant with every figure and detail, and\nevery circumstance of the history of the foundation of the Ecclesiastical\nCommission in 1835-6. Then his _savoir faire_ and wisdom of parliamentary\nconduct. \"I always made it a rule in the H. of C. to allow nobody to\nsuppose that I did not like him, and to say as little as I could to\nprevent anybody from liking me. Considering the intense friction and\ncontention of public life, it is a saving of wear and tear that as many as\npossible even among opponents should think well of one.\"\n\n_Sunday, Dec. 20._--At table, a little discussion as to the happiness and\nmisery of animal creation. Outside of man Mr. G. argued against Tennyson's\ndescription of Nature as red in tooth and claw. Apart from man, he said,\nand the action of man, sentient beings are happy and not miserable. But\nFear? we said. No; they are unaware of impending doom; when hawk or kite\npounces on its prey, the small bird has little or no apprehension; 'tis\ndeath, but death by appointed and unforeseen lot.\n\n_J. M._--There is Hunger. Is not the probability that most creatures are\nalways hungry, not excepting Man?\n\nTo this he rather assented. Of course optimism like this is indispensable\nas the basis of natural theology.\n\nTalked to Mr. G. about Michelet's Tableau de la France, which I had just\nfinished in vol. 2 of the history. A brilliant tour de force, but strains\nthe relations of soil to character; compels words and facts to be the\nslaves of his phantasy; the modicum of reality overlaid with violent\nparadox and foregone conclusion. Mr. G. not very much interested--seems\nonly to care for political and church history.\n\n_Monday, Dec. 31._--Mr. G. did not appear at table to-day, suffering from a\nsurfeit of wild strawberries the day before. But he dined in his dressing\ngown, and I had some chat with him in his room after lunch.\n\n_Mr. G._--\"'Tis a hard law of political things that if a man shows special\ncompetence in a department, that is the very thing most likely to keep him\nthere, and prevent his promotion.\"\n\n(M165) _Mr. G._--I consider Burke a tripartite man: America, France,\nIreland--right as to two, wrong in one.\n\n_J. M._--Must you not add home affairs and India? His _Thoughts on the\nDiscontents_ is a masterpiece of civil wisdom, and the right defence in a\ngreat constitutional struggle. Then he gave fourteen years of industry to\nWarren Hastings, and teaching England the rights of the natives, princes\nand people, and her own duties. So he was right in four out of five.\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes, yes--quite true. Those two ought to be added to my three.\nThere is a saying of Burke's from which I must utterly dissent. \"Property\nis sluggish and inert.\" Quite the contrary. Property is vigilant, active,\nsleepless; if ever it seems to slumber, be sure that one eye is open.\n\n_Marie Antoinette._ I once read the three volumes of letters from Mercy\nd'Argenteau to Maria Theresa. He seems to have performed the duty imposed\nupon him with fidelity.\n\n_J. M._--Don't you think the Empress comes out well in the correspondence?\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes, she shows always judgment and sagacity.\n\n_J. M._--Ah, but besides sagacity, worth and as much integrity as those\nslippery times allowed.\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes (but rather reluctantly, I thought). As for Marie Antoinette,\nshe was not a striking character in any senses she was horribly frivolous;\nand, I suppose, we must say she was, what shall I call it--a very\nconsiderable flirt?\n\n_J. M._--The only case with real foundation seems to be that of the _beau\nFersen_, the Swedish secretary. He too came to as tragic an end as the\nQueen.\n\n_Tuesday, Dec. 22._--Mr. G. still somewhat indisposed--but reading away all\nday long. Full of Marbot. Delighted with the story of the battle of\nCastiglione: how when Napoleon held a council of war, and they all said\nthey were hemmed in, and that their only chance was to back out, Augereau\nroughly cried that they might all do what they liked, but he would attack\nthe enemy cost what it might. \"Exactly like a place in the _Iliad_; when\nAgamemnon and the rest sit sorrowful in the assembly arguing that it was\nuseless to withstand the sovereign will of Zeus, and that they had better\nflee into their ships, Diomed bursts out that whatever others think, in\nany event he and Sthenelus, his squire, will hold firm, and never desist\nfrom the onslaught until they have laid waste the walls of Troy.\"(290) A\nlarge dose of Diomed in Mr. G. himself.\n\nTalk about the dangerous isolation in which the monarchy will find itself\nin England if the hereditary principle goes down in the House of Lords;\n\"it will stand bare, naked, with no shelter or shield, only endured as the\nbetter of two evils.\" \"I once asked,\" he said, \"who besides myself in the\nparty cares for the hereditary principle? The answer was, That perhaps ----\ncared for it!!\"--naming a member of the party supposed to be rather sapient\nthan sage.\n\nNews in the paper that the Comte de Paris in his discouragement was about\nto renounce his claims, and break up his party. Somehow this brought us\nround to Tocqueville, of whom Mr. G. spoke as the nearest French approach\nto Burke.\n\n_J. M._--But pale and without passion. Who was it that said of him that he\nwas an aristocrat who accepted his defeat? That is, he knew democracy to\nbe the conqueror, but he doubted how far it would be an improvement, he\nsaw its perils, etc.\n\n_Mr. G._--I have not much faith in these estimates, whether in favour of\nprogress or against it. I don't believe in comparisons of age with age.\nHow can a man strike a balance between one government and another? How can\nhe place himself in such an attitude, and with such comprehensive sureness\nof vision, as to say that the thirteenth century was better or higher or\nworse or lower than the nineteenth?\n\n_Thursday, Dec. 24._--At lunch we had the news of the Parnellite victory at\nWaterford. A disagreeable reverse for us. Mr. G. did not say many words\nabout it, only that it would give heart to the mischief makers--only too\ncertain. But we said no more about it. He and I took a walk on the sands\nin the afternoon, and had a curious talk (considering), about the\nprospects of the church of England. He was (M166) anxious to know about my\ntalk some time ago with the Bishop of ---- whom I had met at a feast at\nLincoln's Inn. I gave him as good an account as I could of what had\npassed. Mr. G. doubted that this prelate was fundamentally an Erastian, as\nTait was. Mr. G. is eager to read the signs of the times as to the\nprospects of Anglican Christianity, to which his heart is given; and he\nfears the peril of Erastianism to the spiritual life of the church, which\nis naturally the only thing worth caring about. Hence, he talked with much\ninterest of the question whether the clever fellows at Oxford and\nCambridge now take orders. He wants to know what kind of defenders his\nchurch is likely to have in days to come. Said that for the first time\ninterest has moved away both from politics and theology, towards the vague\nsomething which they call social reform; and he thinks they won't make\nmuch out of that in the way of permanent results. The establishment he\nconsiders safer than it has been for a long time.\n\nAs to Welsh disestablishment, he said it was a pity that where the\nnational sentiment was so unanimous as it was in Wales, the operation\nitself should not be as simple as in Scotland. In Scotland sentiment is\nnot unanimous, but the operation is easy. In Wales sentiment is all one\nway, but the operation difficult--a good deal more difficult than people\nsuppose, as they will find out when they come to tackle it.\n\n[Perhaps it may be mentioned here that, though we always talked freely and\nabundantly together upon ecclesiastical affairs and persons, we never once\nexchanged a word upon theology or religious creed, either at Biarritz or\nanywhere else.]\n\n_Pitt._--A strong denunciation of Pitt for the French war. People don't\nrealise what the French war meant. In 1812 wheat at Liverpool was 20s. (?)\nthe imperial bushel of 65 pounds (?)! Think of that, when you bring it\ninto figures of the cost of a loaf. And that was the time when Eaton,\nEastnor, and other great palaces were built by the landlords out of the\nhigh rents which the war and war prices enabled them to exact.\n\nWished we knew more of Melbourne. He was in many ways a very fine fellow.\n\"In two of the most important of all the relations of a prime minister, he\nwas perfect; I mean first, his relations to the Queen, second to his\ncolleagues.\"\n\nSomebody at dinner quoted a capital description of the perverse fashion of\ntalking that prevailed at Oxford soon after my time, and prevails there\nnow, I fancy--\"hunting for epigrammatic ways of saying what you don't\nthink.\" ---- was the father of this pestilent mode.\n\nRather puzzled him by repeating a saying of mine that used to amuse\nFitzjames Stephen, that Love of Truth is more often than we think only a\nfine name for Temper. I think Mr. G. has a thorough dislike for anything\nthat has a cynical or sardonic flavour about it. I wish I had thought, by\nthe way, of asking him what he had to say of that piece of Swift's, about\nall objects being insipid that do not come by delusion, and everything\nbeing shrunken as it appears in the glass of nature, so that if it were\nnot for artificial mediums, refracted angles, false lights, varnish and\ntinsel, there would be pretty much of a level in the felicity of mortal\nman.\n\nAm always feeling how strong is his aversion to seeing more than he can\nhelp of what is sordid, mean, ignoble. He has not been in public life all\nthese years without rubbing shoulders with plenty of baseness on every\nscale, and plenty of pettiness in every hue, but he has always kept his\neyes well above it. Never was a man more wholly free of the starch of the\ncensor, more ready to make allowance, nor more indulgent even; he enters\ninto human nature in all its compass. But he won't linger a minute longer\nthan he must in the dingy places of life and character.\n\n_Christmas Day, 1891._--A divine day, brilliant sunshine, and mild spring\nair. Mr. G. heard what he called an admirable sermon from an English\npreacher, \"with a great command of his art.\" A quietish day, Mr. G. no\ndoubt engaged in {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}.\n\n_Saturday, Dec. 26._--Once more a noble day. We started in a couple of\ncarriages for the Negress station, a couple of miles away or more, I with\nthe G.'s. Occasion produced the Greek epitaph of the nameless drowned\nsailor (M167) who wished for others kinder seas.(291) Mr. G. felt its\npathos and its noble charm--so direct and simple, such benignity, such a\ngood lesson to men to forget their own misdeeds and mischance, and to pray\nfor the passer-by a happier star. He repaid me by two epigrams of a\ndifferent vein, and one admirable translation into Greek, of Tennyson on\nSir John Franklin, which I do not carry in my mind; another on a\nboisterous Eton fellow--\n\n\n Didactic, dry, declamatory, dull,\n The bursar ---- bellows like a bull.\n\n\nJust in the tone of Greek epigram, a sort of point, but not too much\npoint.\n\n_Parliamentary Wit._--Thought Disraeli had never been surpassed, nor even\nequalled, in this line. He had a contest with General Grey, who stood upon\nthe general merits of the whig government, after both Lord Grey and\nStanley had left it. D. drew a picture of a circus man who advertised his\nshow with its incomparable team of six grey horses. One died, he replaced\nit by a mule. Another died, and he put in a donkey, still he went on\nadvertising his team of greys all the same. Canning's wit not to be found\nconspicuously in his speeches, but highly agreeable pleasantries, though\nmany of them in a vein which would jar horribly on modern taste.\n\nSome English redcoats and a pack of hounds passed us as we neared the\nstation. They saluted Mr. G. with a politeness that astonished him, but\nwas pleasant. Took the train for Irun, the fields and mountain s\ndelightful in the sun, and the sea on our right a superb blue such as we\nnever see in English waters. At Irun we found carriages waiting to take us\non to Fuentarabia. From the balcony of the church had a beautiful view\nover the scene of Wellington's operations when he crossed the Bidassoa, in\nthe presence of the astonished Soult. A lovely picture, made none the\nworse by this excellent historic association. The alcalde was extremely\npolite and intelligent. The consul who was with us showed a board on the\nold tower, in which _v_ in some words was _b_, and I noted that the\nalcalde spoke of Viarritz. I reminded Mr. G. of Scaliger's epigram--\n\n\n Haud temere antiquas mutat Vasconia voces,\n Cui nihil est alind vivere quam bibere.\n\n\nPretty cold driving home, but Mr. G. seemed not to care. He found both the\nchurches at St. Jean and at Fuentarabia very noteworthy, though the latter\nvery popish, but both, he felt, \"had a certain association with grandeur.\"\n\n_Sunday, Dec. 27._--After some quarter of an hour of travellers' topics, we\nplunged into one of the most interesting talks we have yet had. _Apropos_\nof I do not know what, Mr. G. said that he had not advised his son to\nenter public life. \"No doubt there are some men to whom station, wealth,\nand family traditions make it a duty. But I have never advised any\nindividual, as to whom I have been consulted, to enter the H. of C.\"\n\n_J. M._--But isn't that rather to encourage self-indulgence? Nobody who\ncares for ease or mental composure would seek public life?\n\n_Mr. G._--Ah, I don't know that. Surely politics open up a great field for\nthe natural man. Self-seeking, pride, domination, power--all these passions\nare gratified in politics.\n\n_J. M._--You cannot be sure of achievement in politics, whether personal or\npublic?\n\n_Mr. G._--No; to use Bacon's pregnant phrase, they are too immersed in\nmatter. Then as new matter, that is, new details and particulars, come\ninto view, men change their judgment.\n\n_J. M._--You have spoken just now of somebody as a thorough good tory. You\nknow the saying that nobody is worth much who has not been a bit of a\nradical in his youth, and a bit of a tory in his fuller age.\n\n_Mr. G._ (laughing)--Ah, I'm afraid that hits me rather hard. But for\nmyself, I think I can truly put up all the change that has come into my\npolitics into a sentence; I (M168) was brought up to distrust and dislike\nliberty, I learned to believe in it. That is the key to all my changes.\n\n_J. M._--According to my observation, the change in my own generation is\ndifferent. They have ceased either to trust or to distrust liberty, and\nhave come to the mind that it matters little either way. Men are\ndisenchanted. They have got what they wanted in the days of their youth,\nyet what of it, they ask? France has thrown off the Empire, but the\nstatesmen of the republic are not a great breed. Italy has gained her\nunity, yet unity has not been followed by thrift, wisdom, or large\nincrease of public virtue or happiness. America has purged herself of\nslavery, yet life in America is material, prosaic,--so say some of her own\nrarest sons. Don't think that I say all these things. But I know able and\nhigh-minded men who suffer from this disenchantment.\n\n_Mr. G._--Italy would have been very different if Cavour had only lived--and\neven Ricasoli. Men ought not to suffer from disenchantment. They ought to\nknow that _ideals in politics are never realised_. And don't let us forget\nin eastern Europe the rescue in our time of some ten millions of men from\nthe harrowing domination of the Turk. (On this he expatiated, and very\njustly, with much energy.)\n\nWe turned to our own country. Here he insisted that democracy had\ncertainly not saved us from a distinct decline in the standard of public\nmen.... Look at the whole conduct of opposition from '80 to '85--every\nprinciple was flung overboard, if they could manufacture a combination\nagainst the government. For all this deterioration one man and one man\nalone is responsible, Disraeli. He is the grand corrupter. He it was who\nsowed the seed.\n\n_J. M._--Ought not Palmerston to bear some share in this?\n\n_Mr. G._--No, no; Pam. had many strong and liberal convictions. On one\nsubject Dizzy had them too--the Jews. There he was much more than rational,\nhe was fanatical. He said once that Providence would deal good or ill\nfortune to nations, according as they dealt well or ill by the Jews. I\nremember once sitting next to John Russell when D. was making a speech on\nJewish emancipation. \"Look at him,\" said J. R., \"how manfully he sticks to\nit, tho' he knows that every word he says is gall and wormwood to every\nman who sits around him and behind him.\" A curious irony, was it not, that\nit should have fallen to me to propose a motion for a memorial both to\nPam. and Dizzy?\n\nA superb scene upon the ocean, with a grand wind from the west. Mr. G. and\nI walked on the shore; he has a passion for tumultuous seas. I have never\nseen such huge masses of water shattering themselves among the rocks.\n\nIn the evening Mr. G. remarked on our debt to Macaulay, for guarding the\npurity of the English tongue. I recalled a favourite passage from Milton,\nthat next to the man who gives wise and intrepid counsels of government,\nhe places the man who cares for the purity of his mother tongue. Mr. G.\nliked this. Said he only knew Bright once slip into an error in this\nrespect, when he used \"transpire\" for \"happen.\" Macaulay of good example\nalso in rigorously abstaining from the inclusion of matter in footnotes.\nHallam an offender in this respect. I pointed out that he offended in\ncompany with Gibbon.\n\n_Monday, Dec. 28._--We had an animated hour at breakfast.\n\n_Oxford and Cambridge._--Curious how, like two buckets, whenever one was\nup, the other was down. Cambridge has never produced four such men of\naction in successive ages as Wolsey, Laud, Wesley, and Newman.\n\n_J. M._--In the region of thought Cambridge has produced the greatest of\nall names, Newton.\n\n_Mr. G._--In the earlier times Oxford has it--with Wycliff, Occam, above all\nRoger Bacon. And then in the eighteenth century, Butler.\n\n_J. M._--But why not Locke, too, in the century before?\n\nThis brought on a tremendous tussle, for Mr. G. was of the same mind, and\nperhaps for the same sort of reason, as Joseph de Maistre, that contempt\nfor Locke is the beginning of knowledge. All very well for De Maistre, but\nnot for a man in line with European liberalism. I pressed the very obvious\npoint that you must take into account not only a man's intellectual\nproduct or his general stature, but also (M169) his influence as a\nhistoric force. From the point of view of influence Locke was the origin\nof the emancipatory movement of the eighteenth century abroad, and laid\nthe philosophic foundations of liberalism in civil government at home. Mr.\nG. insisted on a passage of Hume's which he believed to be in the history,\ndisparaging Locke as a metaphysical thinker.(292) \"That may be,\" said I,\n\"though Hume in his _Essays_ is not above paying many compliments to 'the\ngreat reasoner,' etc., to whom, for that matter, I fancy that he stood in\npretty direct relation. But far be it from me to deny that Hume saw deeper\nthan Locke into the metaphysical millstone. That is not the point. I'm\nonly thinking of his historic place, and, after all, the history of\nphilosophy is itself a philosophy.\" To minds nursed in dogmatic schools,\nall this is both unpalatable and incredible.\n\nSomehow we slid into the freedom of the will and Jonathan Edwards. I told\nhim that Mill had often told us how Edwards argued the necessarian or\ndeterminist case as keenly as any modern.\n\n_Tuesday, Dec. 29._--Mr. G. 82 to-day. I gave him Mackail's Greek Epigrams,\nand if it affords him half as much pleasure as it has given me, he will be\nvery grateful. Various people brought Mr. G. bouquets and addresses. Mr.\nG. went to church in the morning, and in the afternoon took a walk with\nme.... _Land Question._ As you go through France you see the soil\ncultivated by the population. In our little dash into Spain the other day,\nwe saw again the soil cultivated by the population. In England it is\ncultivated by the capitalist, for the farmer is capitalist. Some\nastonishing views recently propounded by D. of Argyll on this matter.\nUnearned increment--so terribly difficult to catch it. Perhaps best try to\nget at it through the death duties. Physical condition of our\npeople--always a subject of great anxiety--their stature, colour, and so on.\nFeared the atmosphere of cotton factories, etc., very deleterious. As\nagainst bad air, I said, you must set good food; the Lancashire operative\nin decent times lives uncommonly well, as he deserves to do. He agreed\nthere might be something in this.\n\nThe day was humid and muggy, but the tumult of the sea was most majestic.\nMr. G. delighted in it. He has a passion for the sound of the sea; would\nlike to have it in his ear all day and all night. Again and again he\nrecurred to this.\n\nAfter dinner, long talk about Mazzini, of whom Mr. G. thought poorly in\ncomparison with Poerio and the others who for freedom sacrificed their\nlives. I stood up for Mazzini, as one of the most morally impressive men I\nhad ever known, or that his age knew; he breathed a soul into democracy.\n\nThen we fell into a discussion as to the eastern and western churches. He\nthought the western popes by their proffered alliance with the mahometans,\netc., had betrayed Christianity in the east. I offered De Maistre's view.\n\nMr. G. strongly assented to old Chatham's dictum that vacancy is worse\nthan even the most anxious work. He has less to reproach himself with than\nmost men under that head.\n\nHe repeated an observation that I have heard him make before, that he\nthought politicians are more _rapid_ than other people. I told him that\nBowen once said to me on this that he did not agree; that he thought\nrapidity the mark of all successful men in the practical line of life,\nmerchants and stockbrokers, etc.\n\n_Wednesday, Dec. 30._--A very muggy day. A divine sunset, with the\nloveliest pink and opal tints in the sky. Mr. G. reading Gleig's\n_Subaltern_. Not a very entertaining book in itself, but the incidents\nbelong to Wellington's Pyrenean campaign, and, for my own part, I rather\nenjoyed it on the principle on which one likes reading _Romola_ at\nFlorence, _Transformation_ at Rome, _Sylvia's Lovers_ at Whitby, and\n_Hurrish_ on the northern edge of Clare.\n\n_Thursday, Dec. 31._--Down to the pier, and found all the party watching\nthe breakers, and superb they were. Mr. G. exulting in the huge force of\nthe Atlantic swell and the beat of the rollers on the shore, like a\nTitanic pulse.\n\nAfter dinner Mr. G. raised the question of payment of members. He had been\nasked by somebody whether he meant at Newcastle to indicate that everybody\nshould be paid, or only those who chose to take it or to ask (M170) for\nit. He produced the same extraordinary plan as he had described to me on\nthe morning of his Newcastle speech--_i.e._ that the Inland Revenue should\nascertain from their own books the income of every M.P., and if they found\nany below the limit of exemption, should notify the same to the Speaker,\nand the Speaker should thereupon send to the said M.P. below the limit an\nannual cheque for, say, L300, the name to appear in an annual return to\nParliament of all the M.P.'s in receipt of public money on any grounds\nwhatever. I demurred to this altogether, as drawing an invidious\ndistinction between paid and unpaid members; said it was idle to ignore\nthe theory on which the demand for paid members is based, namely, that it\nis desirable in the public interest that poor men should have access to\nthe H. of C.; and that the poor man should stand there on the same footing\nas anybody else.\n\n_Friday, Jan. 1, 1892._--After breakfast Mrs. Gladstone came to my room and\nsaid how glad she was that I had not scrupled to put unpleasant points;\nthat Mr. G. must not be shielded and sheltered as some great people are,\nwho hear all the pleasant things and none of the unpleasant; that the\nperturbation from what is disagreeable only lasts an hour. I said I hoped\nthat I was faithful with him, but of course I could not be always putting\nmyself in an attitude of perpetual controversy. She said, \"He is never\nmade angry by what you say.\" And so she went away, and ---- and I had a good\nand most useful set-to about Irish finance.\n\nAt luncheon Mr. G. asked what we had made out of our morning's work. When\nwe told him he showed a good deal of impatience and vehemence, and, to my\ndismay, he came upon union finance and the general subject of the\ntreatment of Ireland by England....\n\nIn the afternoon we took a walk, he and I, afterwards joined by the rest.\nHe was as delighted as ever with the swell of the waves, as they bounded\nover one another, with every variety of grace and tumultuous power. He\nwondered if we had not more and better words for the sea than the\nFrench--\"breaker,\" \"billow,\" \"roller,\" as against \"flot,\" \"vague,\" \"onde,\"\n\"lame,\" etc.\n\nAt dinner he asked me whether I had made up my mind on the burning\nquestion of compulsory Greek for a university degree. I said, No, that as\nthen advised I was half inclined to be against compulsory Greek, but it is\nso important that I would not decide before I was obliged. \"So with me,\"\nhe said, \"the question is one with many subtle and deep-reaching\nconsequences.\" He dwelt on the folly of striking Italian out of the course\nof modern education, thus cutting European history in two, and setting an\nartificial gulf between the ancient and modern worlds.\n\n_Saturday, Jan. 2._--Superb morning, and all the better for being much\ncooler. At breakfast somebody started the idle topic of quill pens. When\nthey came to the length of time that so-and-so made a quill serve, \"De\nRetz,\" said I, \"made up his mind that Cardinal Chigi was a poor creature,\n_maximus in minimis_, because at their first interview Chigi boasted that\nhe had used one pen for three years.\" That recalled another saying of\nRetz's about Cromwell's famous dictum, that nobody goes so far as the man\nwho does not know where he is going. Mr. G. gave his deep and eager Ah! to\nthis. He could not recall that Cromwell had produced many dicta of such\nquality. \"I don't love him, but he was a mighty big fellow. But he was\nintolerant. He was intolerant of the episcopalians.\"\n\n_Mr. G._--Do you know whom I find the most tolerant churchman of that time?\n_Laud!_ Laud got Davenant made Bishop of Salisbury, and he zealously\nbefriended Chillingworth and Hales. (There was some other case, which I\nforget.)\n\n_The execution of Charles._--I told him of Gardiner's new volume which I\nhad just been reading. \"Charles,\" he said, \"was no doubt a dreadful liar;\nCromwell perhaps did not always tell the truth; Elizabeth was a tremendous\nliar.\"\n\n_J. M._--Charles was not wholly inexcusable, being what he was, for\nthinking that he had a good game in his hands, by playing off the\nparliament against the army, etc.\n\n_Mr. G._--There was less excuse for cutting off his head than in the case\nof poor Louis XVI., for Louis was the excuse for foreign invasion.\n\n(M171) _J. M._--Could you call foreign invasion the intervention of the\nScotch?\n\n_Mr. G._--Well, not quite. I suppose it is certain that it was Cromwell who\ncut off Charles's head? Not one in a hundred in the nation desired it.\n\n_J. M._--No, nor one in twenty in the parliament. But then, ninety-nine in\na hundred in the army.\n\nIn the afternoon we all drove towards Bayonne to watch the ships struggle\nover the bar at high water. As it happened we only saw one pass out, a\ncountryman for Cardiff. A string of others were waiting to go, but a\nlittle steamer from Nantes came first, and having secured her station,\nfound she had not force enough to make the bar, and the others remained\nswearing impatiently behind her. The Nantes steamer was like Ireland. The\nscene was very fresh and fine, and the cold most exhilarating after the\nmugginess of the last two or three days. Mr. G., who has a dizzy head, did\nnot venture on the jetty, but watched things from the sands. He and I\ndrove home together, at a good pace. \"I am inclined,\" he said laughingly,\n\"to agree with Dr. Johnson that there is no pleasure greater than sitting\nbehind four fast-going horses.\"(293) Talking of Johnson generally, \"I\nsuppose we may take him as the best product of the eighteenth century.\"\nPerhaps so, but is he its most characteristic product?\n\n_Wellington._--Curious that there should be no general estimate of W.'s\ncharacter; his character not merely as a general but as a man. No love of\nfreedom. His sense of duty very strong, but military rather than civil.\n\n_Montalembert._--Had often come into contact with him. A very amiable and\nattractive man. But less remarkable than Rio.\n\n_Latin Poets._--Would you place Virgil first?\n\n_J. M._--Oh, no, Lucretius much the first for the greatest and sublimest of\npoetic qualities. Mr. G. seemed to assent to this, though disposed to make\na fight for the second _Aeneid_ as equal to anything. He expressed his\nadmiration for Catullus, and then he was strong that Horace would run\nanybody else very hard, breaking out with the lines about Regulus--\n\n\n \"Atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus\n Tortor pararet;\" etc.(294)\n\n\n_Blunders in Government._--How right Napoleon was when he said, reflecting\non all the vast complexities of government, that the best to be said of a\nstatesman is that he has avoided the biggest blunders.\n\nIt is not easy to define the charm of these conversations. Is charm the\nright word? They are in the highest degree stimulating, bracing, widening.\nThat is certain. I return to my room with the sensations of a man who has\ntaken delightful exercise in fresh air. He is so wholly free from the\n_ergoteur_. There's all the difference between the _ergoteur_ and the\ngreat debater. He fits his tone to the thing; he can be as playful as\nanybody. In truth I have many a time seen him in London and at Hawarden\nnot far from trivial. But here at Biarritz all is appropriate, and though,\nas I say, he can be playful and gay as youth, he cannot resist rising in\nan instant to the general point of view--to grasp the elemental\nconsiderations of character, history, belief, conduct, affairs. There he\nis at home, there he is most himself. I never knew anybody less guilty of\nthe tiresome sin of arguing for victory. It is not his knowledge that\nattracts; it is not his ethical tests and standards; it is not that\ndialectical strength of arm which, as Mark Pattison said of him, could\ntwist a bar of iron to its purpose. It is the combination of these with\nelevation, with true sincerity, with extraordinary mental force.\n\n_Sunday, Jan. 3._--Vauvenargues is right when he says that to carry through\ngreat undertakings, one must act as though one could never die. My\nwonderful companion is a wonderful illustration. He is like M. Angelo,\nwho, just before he died on the very edge of ninety, made an allegorical\nfigure, and inscribed upon it, _ancora impara_, \"still learning.\"\n\nAt dinner he showed in full force.\n\n(M172) _Heroes of the Old Testament._--He could not honestly say that he\nthought there was any figure in the O. T. comparable to the heroes of\nHomer. Moses was a fine fellow. But the others were of secondary\nquality--not great high personages, of commanding nature.\n\n_Thinkers._--Rather an absurd word--to call a man a thinker (and he repeated\nthe word with gay mockery in his tone). When did it come into use? Not\nuntil quite our own times, eh? I said, I believed both Hobbes and Locke\nspoke of thinkers, and was pretty sure that _penseur_, as in _libre\npenseur_, had established itself in the last century. [Quite true;\nVoltaire used it, but it was not common.]\n\n_Dr. Arnold._--A high, large, impressive figure--perhaps more important by\nhis character and personality than his actual work. I mentioned M. A.'s\npoem on his father, _Rugby Chapel_, with admiration. Rather to my\nsurprise, Mr. G. knew the poem well, and shared my admiration to the full.\nThis brought us on to poetry generally, and he expatiated with much\neloquence and sincerity for the rest of the talk. The wonderful continuity\nof fine poetry in England for five whole centuries, stretching from\nChaucer to Tennyson, always a proof to his mind of the soundness, the sap,\nand the vitality of our nation and its character. What people, beginning\nwith such a poet as Chaucer 500 years ago, could have burst forth into\nsuch astonishing production of poetry as marked the first quarter of the\ncentury, Byron, Wordsworth, Shelley, etc.\n\n_J. M._--It is true that Germany has nothing, save Goethe, Schiller, Heine,\nthat's her whole list. But I should say a word for the poetic movement in\nFrance: Hugo, Gautier, etc. Mr. G. evidently knew but little, or even\nnothing, of modern French poetry. He spoke up for Leopardi, on whom he had\nwritten an article first introducing him to the British public, ever so\nmany years ago--in the _Quarterly_.\n\n_Mr. G._--Wordsworth used occasionally to dine with me when I lived in the\nAlbany. A most agreeable man. I always found him amiable, polite, and\nsympathetic. Only once did he jar upon me, when he spoke slightingly of\nTennyson's first performance.\n\n_J. M._--But he was not so wrong as he would be now. Tennyson's Juvenilia\nare terribly artificial.\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes, perhaps. Tennyson has himself withdrawn some of them. I\nremember W., when he dined with me, used on leaving to change his silk\nstockings in the anteroom and put on grey worsted.\n\n_J. M._--I once said to M. Arnold that I'd rather have been Wordsworth than\nanybody [not exactly a modest ambition]; and Arnold, who knew him well in\nthe Grasmere country, said, \"Oh no, you would not; you would wish you were\ndining with me at the Athenaeum. He was too much of the peasant for you.\"\n\n_Mr. G._--No, I never felt that; I always thought him a polite and an\namiable man.\n\nMentioned Macaulay's strange judgment in a note in the _History_, that\nDryden's famous lines,\n\n\n \"... Fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit;\n Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay.\n To-morrow's falser than the former day;\n Lies worse, and while it says we shall be blest\n With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.\n Strange cozenage!...\"\n\n\nare as fine as any eight lines in Lucretius. Told him of an excellent\nremark of ---- on this, that Dryden's passage wholly lacks the mystery and\ngreat superhuman air of Lucretius. Mr. G. warmly agreed.\n\nHe regards it as a remarkable sign of the closeness of the church of\nEngland to the roots of life and feeling in the country, that so many\nclergymen should have written so much good poetry. Who, for instance? I\nasked. He named Heber, Moultrie, Newman (_Dream of Gerontius_), and Faber\nin at least one good poem, \"The poor Labourer\" (or some such title),\nCharles Tennyson. I doubt if this thesis has much body in it. He was for\nShelley as the most musical of all our poets. I told him that I had once\nasked M. to get Tennyson to write an autograph line for a friend of mine,\nand Tennyson had sent this:--\n\n\n \"Coldly on the dead volcano sleeps the gleam of dying day.\"\n\n\nSo I suppose the poet must think well of it himself. 'Tis (M173) from the\nsecond _Locksley Hall_, and describes a man after passions have gone cool.\n\n_Mr. G._--Yes, in melody, in the picturesque, and as apt simile, a fine\nline.\n\nHad been trying his hand at a translation of his favourite lines of\nPenelope about Odysseus. Said that, of course, you could translate similes\nand set passages, but to translate Homer as a whole, impossible. He was\ninclined, when all is said, to think Scott the nearest approach to a\nmodel.\n\n_Monday, Jan. 4._--At luncheon, Mr. Gladstone recalled the well-known story\nof Talleyrand on the death of Napoleon. The news was brought when T.\nchanced to be dining with Wellington. \"Quel evenement!\" they all cried.\n\"Non, ce n'est pas un evenement,\" said Talleyrand, \"c'est une\nnouvelle\"--'Tis no event, 'tis a piece of news. \"Imagine such a way,\" said\nMr. G., \"of taking the disappearance of that colossal man! Compare it with\nthe opening of Manzoni's ode, which makes the whole earth stand still. Yet\nboth points of view are right. In one sense, the giant's death was only\nnews; in another, when we think of his history, it was enough to shake the\nworld.\" At the moment, he could not recall Manzoni's words, but at dinner\nhe told me that he had succeeded in piecing them together, and after\ndinner he went to his room and wrote them down for me on a piece of paper.\nCuriously enough, he could not recall the passage in his own splendid\ntranslation.(295)\n\nTalk about handsome men of the past; Sidney Herbert one of the handsomest\nand most attractive. But the Duke of Hamilton bore away the palm, as\nglorious as a Greek god. \"One day in Rotten Row, I said this to the\nDuchess of C. She set up James Hope-Scott against my Duke. No doubt he had\nan intellectual element which the Duke lacked.\" Then we discussed the\nbest-looking man in the H. of C. to-day....\n\n_Duke of Wellington._--Somebody was expatiating on the incomparable\nposition of the Duke; his popularity with kings, with nobles, with common\npeople. Mr. G. remembered that immediately after the formation of\nCanning's government in 1827, when it was generally thought that he had\nbeen most unfairly and factiously treated (as Mr. G. still thinks, always\nsaving Peel) by the Duke and his friends, the Duke made an expedition to\nthe north of England, and had an overwhelming reception. Of course, he was\nthen only twelve years from Waterloo, and yet only four or five years\nlater he had to put up his iron shutters.\n\nApproved a remark that a friend of ours was not simple enough, not ready\nenough to take things as they come.\n\n_Mr. G._--Unless a man has a considerable gift for taking things as they\ncome, he may make up his mind that political life will be sheer torment to\nhim. He must meet fortune in all its moods.\n\n_Tuesday, Jan. 5._--After dinner to-day, Mr. G. extraordinarily gay. He had\nbought a present of silver for his wife. She tried to guess the price, and\nafter the manner of wives in such a case, put the figure provokingly low.\nMr. G. then put on the deprecating air of the tradesman with wounded\nfeelings--and it was as capital fun as we could desire. That over, he fell\nto his backgammon with our host.\n\n_Wednesday, Jan. 6._--Mrs. Gladstone eighty to-day! What a marvel....\n\nLeon Say called to see Mr. G. Long and most interesting conversation about\nall sorts of aspects of French politics, the concordat, the schools, and\nall the rest of it.\n\nHe illustrated the ignorance of French peasantry as to current affairs.\nThiers, long after he had become famous, went on a visit to his native\nregion; and there met a friend of his youth. \"Eh bien,\" said his friend,\n\"tu as fait ton chemin.\" \"Mais oui, j'ai fait un peu mon chemin. J'ai ete\nministre meme.\" \"Ah, tiens! je ne savais pas que tu etais protestant.\"\n\nI am constantly struck by his solicitude for the well-being and right\ndoing of Oxford and Cambridge--\"the two eyes of the country.\" This\nconnection between the higher education and the general movement of the\nnational mind engages his profound attention, and no doubt deserves such\nattention (M174) in any statesman who looks beyond the mere surface\nproblems of the day. To perceive the bearings of such matters as these,\nmakes Mr. G. a statesman of the highest class, as distinguished from men\nof clever expedients.\n\nMr. G. had been reading the Greek epigrams on religion in Mackail; quoted\nthe last of them as illustrating the description of the dead as the\ninhabitants of the more populous world:--\n\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ZETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER XI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}.(296)\n\n\nA more impressive epigram contains the same thought, where the old man,\nleaning on his staff, likens himself to the withered vine on its dry pole,\nand goes on to ask himself what advantage it would be to warm himself for\nthree or four more years in the sun; and on that reflection without\nheroics put off his life, and changed his home to the greater company,\n\n\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH PSILI AND PERISPOMENI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}.\n\n\nAll the rest of the evening he kept us alive by a stock of infinite\ndrolleries. A scene of a dish of over-boiled tea at West Calder after a\nmeeting, would have made the fortune of a comedian.\n\nI said that in the all-important quality of co-operation, ---- was only good\non condition of being in front. Mr. G. read him in the same sense.\nReminded of a mare he once had--admirable, provided you kept off spur,\ncurb, or whip; show her one of these things, and she would do nothing. Mr.\nG. more of a judge of men than is commonly thought.\n\nTold us of a Chinese despatch which came under his notice when he was at\nthe board of trade, and gave him food for reflection. A ship laden with\ngrain came to Canton. The administrator wrote to the central government at\nPekin to know whether the ship was to pay duty and land its cargo. The\nanswer was to the effect that the central government of the Flowery Land\nwas quite indifferent as a rule to the goings and comings of the\nBarbarians; whether they brought a cargo or brought no cargo was a thing\nof supreme unconcern. \"But this cargo, you say, is food for the people.\nThere ought to be no obstacle to the entry of food for the people. So let\nit in. Your Younger Brother commends himself to you, etc. etc.\"\n\n_Friday, Jan. 8._--A quiet evening. We were all rather piano at the end of\nan episode which had been thoroughly delightful. When Mr. G. bade me\ngood-night, he said with real feeling, \"More sorry than I can say that\nthis is our last evening together at Biarritz.\" He is painfully grieved to\nlose the sound of the sea in his ears.\n\n_Saturday, Jan. 9._--Strolled about all the forenoon. \"What a time of\nblessed composure it has been,\" said Mr. G. with a heavy sigh. The distant\nhills covered with snow, and the voice of the storm gradually swelling.\nStill the savage fury of the sea was yet some hours off, so we had to\nleave Biarritz without the spectacle of Atlantic rage at its fiercest.\n\nFound comfortable saloon awaiting us at Bayonne, and so under weeping\nskies we made our way to Pau. The landscape must be pretty, weather\npermitting. As it was, we saw but little. Mr. G. dozed and read Max\nMueller's book on Anthropological Religions.\n\nArrived at Pau towards 5.30; drenching rain: nothing to be seen.\n\nAt tea time, a good little discussion raised by a protest against Dante\nbeing praised for a complete survey of human nature and the many phases of\nhuman lot. Intensity he has, but insight over the whole field of character\nand life? Mr. G. did not make any stand against this, and made the curious\nadmission that Dante was too optimist to be placed on a level with\nShakespeare, or even with Homer.\n\nThen we turned to lighter themes. He had once said to Henry Taylor, \"I\nshould have thought he was the sort of man to have a good strong grasp of\na subject,\" speaking of Lord Grey, who had been one of Taylor's many\nchiefs at the Colonial Office. \"I should have thought,\" replied Taylor\nslowly and with a dreamy look, \"he was the sort of man to have a good\nstrong _nip_ of a subject.\" Witty, and very applicable to many men.\n\nWordsworth once gave Mr. G. with much complacency, as an example of his\nown readiness and resource, this story. A man came up to him at Rydal and\nsaid, \"Do you happen to have seen my wife.\" \"Why,\" replied the Sage, \"I\ndid not know you had a wife!\" This peculiarly modest attempt at pointed\nrepartee much tickled Mr. G., as well it might.\n\n_Tuesday, Jan. 12._--Mr. G. completely recovered from two days of\nindisposition. We had about an hour's talk on things in general, including\npolicy in the approaching session. He did not expect a dissolution, at the\nsame time a dissolution would not surprise him.\n\nAt noon they started for Perigord and Carcassonne, Nismes, Arles, and so\non to the Riviera full of kind things at our parting.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII. The Fourth Administration. (1892-1894)\n\n\n {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH PERISPOMENI AND YPOGEGRAMMENI~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH DASIA AND PERISPOMENI~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH DASIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER PHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK CAPITAL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMEGA WITH YPOGEGRAMMENI~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH YPOGEGRAMMENI~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}.\n\n _Iliad_, i. 250.\n\n Two generations of mortal men had he already seen pass away, who\n with him of old had been born and bred in sacred Pylos, and among\n the third generation he held rule.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nIn 1892 the general election came, after a session that was not very long\nnor at all remarkable. Everybody knew that we should soon be dismissed,\nand everybody knew that the liberals would have a majority, but the size\nof it was beyond prognostication. Mr. Gladstone did not talk much about\nit, but in fact he reckoned on winning by eighty or a hundred. A leading\nliberal-unionist at whose table we met (May 24) gave us forty. That\nafternoon by the way the House had heard a speech of great power and\nsplendour. An Irish tory peer in the gallery said afterwards, \"That old\nhero of yours is a miracle. When he set off in that high pitch, I said\nthat won't last. Yet he kept it up all through as grand as ever, and came\nin fresher and stronger than when he began.\" His sight failed him in\nreading an extract, and he asked me to read it for him, so he sat down\namid sympathetic cheers while it was read out from the box.\n\nAfter listening to a strong and undaunted reply from Mr. Balfour, he asked\nme to go with him into the tea-room; he was fresh, unperturbed, and in\nhigh spirits. He told me he had once sat at table with Lord Melbourne, but\nregretted that he had never known him. Said that of the sixty men or so\nwho had been his colleagues in cabinet, the (M175) very easiest and most\nattractive was Clarendon. Constantly regretted that he had never met nor\nknown Sir Walter Scott, as of course he might have done. Thought the\neffect of diplomacy to be bad on the character; to train yourself to\npractise the airs of genial friendship towards men from whom you are doing\nyour best to hide yourself, and out of whom you are striving to worm that\nwhich they wish to conceal. Said that he was often asked for advice by\nyoung men as to objects of study. He bade them study and ponder, first,\nthe history and working of freedom in America; second, the history of\nabsolutism in France from Louis XIV. to the Revolution. It was suggested\nthat if the great thing with the young is to attract them to fine types of\ncharacter, the Huguenots had some grave, free, heroic figures, and in the\neighteenth century Turgot was the one inspiring example: when Mill was in\nlow spirits, he restored himself by Condorcet's life of Turgot. This\nreminded him that Canning had once praised Turgot in the House of Commons,\nthough most likely nobody but himself knew anything at all about Turgot.\nTalking of the great centuries, the thirteenth, and the sixteenth, and the\nseventeenth, Mr. Gladstone let drop what for him seems the remarkable\njudgment that \"Man as a type has not improved since those great times; he\nis not so big, so grand, so heroic as he has been.\" This, the reader will\nagree, demands a good deal of consideration.\n\nThen he began to talk about offices, in view of what were now pretty\nobvious possibilities. After discussing more important people, he asked\nwhether, after a recent conversation, I had thought more of my own office,\nand I told him that I fancied like Regulus I had better go back to the\nIrish department. \"Yes,\" he answered with a flash of his eye, \"I think so.\nThe truth is that we're both chained to the oar; I am chained to the oar;\nyou are chained.\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThe electoral period, when it arrived, he passed once more at Dalmeny. In\na conversation the morning after I was allowed to join him there, he\nseemed already to have a grand majority of three figures, to have kissed\nhands, and to be installed in Downing Street. This confidence was\nindispensable to him. At the end of his talk he went up to prepare some\nnotes for the speech that he was to make in the afternoon at Glasgow. Just\nbefore the carriage came to take him to the train, I heard him calling\nfrom the library. In I went, and found him hurriedly thumbing the leaves\nof a Horace. \"Tell me,\" he cried, \"can you put your finger on the passage\nabout Castor and Pollux? I've just thought of something; Castor and Pollux\nwill finish my speech at Glasgow.\" \"Isn't it in the Third Book?\" said I.\n\"No, no; I'm pretty sure it is in the First Book\"--busily turning over the\npages. \"Ah, here it is,\" and then he read out the noble lines with\nanimated modulation, shut the book with a bang, and rushed off exultant to\nthe carriage. This became one of the finest of his perorations.(297) His\ndelivery of it that afternoon, they said, was most majestic--the picture of\nthe wreck, and then the calm that gradually brought down the towering\nbillows to the surface of the deep, entrancing the audience like magic.\n\nThen came a depressing week. The polls flowed in, all day long, day after\nday. The illusory hopes of many months faded into night. The three-figure\nmajority by the end of the week had vanished so completely, that one\nwondered how it could ever have been thought of. On July 13 his own\nMidlothian poll was declared, and instead of his old majority of 4000, or\nthe 3000 on which he counted, he was only in by 690. His chagrin was\nundoubtedly intense, for he had put forth every atom of his strength in\nthe campaign. But with that splendid suppression of vexation which is one\nof the good lessons that men learn in public life, he put a brave face on\nit, was perfectly cheery all through the luncheon, and afterwards took me\nto the music-room, where instead of constructing a triumphant cabinet with\na majority of a hundred, he had to try to adjust an Irish policy to a\nparliament with hardly a majority at all. These topics exhausted, with a\ncuriously quiet gravity of tone he told me (M176) that cataract had formed\nover one eye, that its sight was gone, and that in the other eye he was\ninfested with a white speck. \"One white speck,\" he said, almost laughing,\n\"I can do with, but if the one becomes many, it will be a bad business.\nThey tell me that perhaps the fresh air of Braemar will do me good.\" To\nBraemar the ever loyal Mr. Armitstead piloted them, in company with Lord\nActon of whose society Mr. Gladstone could never have too much.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nIt has sometimes been made a matter of blame by friends no less than foes,\nthat he should have undertaken the task of government, depending on a\nmajority not large enough to coerce the House of Lords. One or two short\nobservations on this would seem to be enough. How could he refuse to try\nto work his Irish policy through parliament, after the bulk of the Irish\nmembers had quitted their own leader four years before in absolute\nreliance on the sincerity and good faith of Mr. Gladstone and his party?\nAfter all the confidence that Ireland had shown in him at the end of 1890,\nhow could he in honour throw up the attempt that had been the only object\nof his public life since 1886? To do this would have been to justify\nindeed the embittered warnings of Mr. Parnell in his most reckless hour.\nHow could either refusal of office or the postponement of an Irish bill\nafter taking office, be made intelligible in Ireland itself? Again, the\npath of honour in Ireland was equally the path of honour and of safety in\nGreat Britain. Were British liberals, who had given him a majority, partly\nfrom disgust at Irish coercion, partly from faith that he could produce a\nworking plan of Irish government, and partly from hopes of reforms of\ntheir own--were they to learn that their leaders could do nothing for any\nof their special objects?\n\nMr. Gladstone found some consolation in a precedent. In 1835, he argued,\n\"the Melbourne government came in with a British minority, swelled into a\nmajority hardly touching thirty by the O'Connell contingent of forty. And\nthey staid in for six years and a half, the longest lived government since\nLord Liverpool's.(298) But the Irish were under the command of a master;\nand Ireland, scarcely beginning her political life, had to be content with\nsmall mercies. Lastly, that government was rather slack, and on this\nground perhaps could not well be taken as a pattern.\" In the present case,\nthe attitude of the Parnellite group who continued the schism that began\nin the events of the winter of 1890, was not likely to prove a grave\ndifficulty in parliament, and in fact it did not. The mischief here was in\nthe effect of Irish feuds upon public opinion in the country. As Mr.\nGladstone put it in the course of a letter that he had occasion to write\nto me (November 26, 1892):--\n\n\n Until the schism arose, we had every prospect of a majority\n approaching those of 1868 and 1880. With the death of Mr. Parnell\n it was supposed that it must perforce close. But this expectation\n has been disappointed. The existence and working of it have to no\n small extent puzzled and bewildered the English people. They\n cannot comprehend how a quarrel, to them utterly unintelligible\n (some even think it discreditable), should be allowed to divide\n the host in the face of the enemy; and their unity and zeal have\n been deadened in proportion. Herein we see the main cause why our\n majority is not more than double what it actually numbers, and the\n difference between these two scales of majority represents, as I\n apprehend, the difference between power to carry the bill as the\n Church and Land bills were carried into law, and the default of\n such power. The main mischief has already been done; but it\n receives additional confirmation with the lapse of every week or\n month.\n\n\nIn forming his fourth administration Mr. Gladstone found one or two\nobstacles on which he had not reckoned, and perhaps could not have been\nexpected to reckon. By that forbearance of which he was a master, they\nwere in good time surmounted. New men, of a promise soon amply fulfilled,\nwere taken in, including, to Mr. Gladstone's own particular satisfaction,\nthe son of the oldest (M177) of all the surviving friends of his youth,\nSir Thomas Acland.(299)\n\nMr. Gladstone remained as head of the government for a year and a few\nmonths (Aug. 1892 to March 3, 1894). In that time several decisions of\npith and moment were taken, one measure of high importance became law,\noperations began against the Welsh establishment, but far the most\nconspicuous biographic element of this short period was his own\nincomparable display of power of every kind in carrying the new bill for\nthe better government of Ireland through the House of Commons.\n\nIn foreign affairs it was impossible that he should forget the case of\nEgypt. Lord Salisbury in 1887 had pressed forward an arrangement by which\nthe British occupation was under definite conditions and at a definite\ndate to come to an end. If this convention had been accepted by the\nSultan, the British troops would probably have been home by the time of\nthe change of government in this country. French diplomacy, however, at\nConstantinople, working as it might seem against its own professed aims,\nhindered the ratification of the convention, and Lord Salisbury's policy\nwas frustrated. Negotiations did not entirely drop, and they had not\npassed out of existence when Lord Salisbury resigned. In the autumn of\n1892 the French ambassador addressed a friendly inquiry to the new\ngovernment as to the reception likely to be given to overtures for\nre-opening the negotiations. The answer was that if France had suggestions\nto offer, they would be received in the same friendly spirit in which they\nwere tendered. When any communications were received, Mr. Gladstone said\nin the House of Commons, there would be no indisposition on our part to\nextend to them our friendly consideration. Of all this nothing came. A\nrather serious ministerial crisis in Egypt in January 1893, followed by a\nministerial crisis in Paris in April, arrested whatever projects of\nnegotiation France may have entertained.(300)\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIn December (1892), at Hawarden, Mr. Gladstone said to me one day after we\nhad been working for five or six hours at the heads of the new Home Rule\nbill, that his general health was good and sound, but his sight and his\nhearing were so rapidly declining, that he thought he might almost any day\nhave to retire from office. It was no moment for banal deprecation. He sat\nsilently pondering this vision in his own mind, of coming fate. It seemed\nlike Tennyson's famous simile--\n\n\n So dark a forethought rolled about his brain,\n As on a dull day in an ocean cave\n The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall\n In silence.\n\n\nIt would have been preternatural if he had shown the same overwhelming\ninterest that had animated him when the Irish policy was fresh in 1886.\nYet the instinct of a strong mind and the lifelong habit of ardent\nindustry carried him through his Sisyphean toil. The routine business of\nhead of a government he attended to, with all his usual assiduity, and in\ncabinet he was clear, careful, methodical, as always.\n\nThe preparation of the bill was carefully and elaborately worked by Mr.\nGladstone through an excellent committee (M178) of the cabinet.(301) Here\nhe was acute, adroit, patient, full of device, expedient, and the art of\nconstruction; now and then vehement and bearing down like a three-decker\nupon craft of more modest tonnage. But the vehemence was rare, and here as\neverywhere else he was eager to do justice to all the points and arguments\nof other people. He sought opportunities of deliberation in order to\ndeliberate, and not under that excellent name to cultivate the art of the\nharangue, or to overwork secondary points, least of all to treat the many\nas made for one. That is to say, he went into counsel for the sake of\ncounsel, and not to cajole, or bully, or insist on his own way because it\nwas his own way. In the high article of finance, he would wrestle like a\ntiger. It was an intricate and difficult business by the necessity of the\ncase, and among the aggravations of it was the discovery at one point that\na wrong figure had been furnished to him by some department. He declared\nthis truly heinous crime to be without a precedent in his huge experience.\n\nThe crucial difficulty was the Irish representation at Westminster. In the\nfirst bill of 1886, the Irish members were to come no more to the imperial\nparliament, except for one or two special purposes. The two alternatives\nto the policy of exclusion were either inclusion of the Irish members for\nall purposes, or else their inclusion for imperial purposes only. In his\nspeech at Swansea in 1887, Mr. Gladstone favoured provisional inclusion,\nwithout prejudice to a return to the earlier plan of exclusion if that\nshould be recommended by subsequent experience.(302) In the bill now\nintroduced (Feb. 13, 1893), eighty representatives from Ireland were to\nhave seats at Westminster, but they were not to vote upon motions or bills\nexpressly confined to England or Scotland, and there were other\nlimitations. This plan was soon found to be wholly intolerable to the\nHouse of Commons. Exclusion having failed, and inclusion of reduced\nnumbers for limited purposes having failed, the only course left open was\nwhat was called _omnes omnia_, or rather the inclusion of eighty Irish\nmembers, with power of voting on all purposes.\n\nEach of the three courses was open to at least one single, but very\ndirect, objection. Exclusion, along with the exaction of revenue from\nIreland by the parliament at Westminster, was taxation without\nrepresentation. Inclusion for all purposes was to allow the Irish to\nmeddle in our affairs, while we were no longer to meddle in theirs.\nInclusion for limited purposes still left them invested with the power of\nturning out a British government by a vote against it on an imperial\nquestion. Each plan, therefore, ended in a paradox. There was a fourth\nparadox, namely, that whenever the British supporters of a government did\nnot suffice to build up a decisive majority, then the Irish vote\ndescending into one or other scale of the parliamentary balance might\ndecide who should be our rulers. This paradox--the most glaring of them\nall--habit and custom have made familiar, and familiarity might almost seem\nto have actually endeared it to us. In 1893 Mr. Gladstone and his\ncolleagues thought themselves compelled to change clause 9 of the new\nbill, just as they had thought themselves forced to drop clause 24 of the\nold bill.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nIt was Mr. Gladstone's performances in the days of committee on the bill,\nthat stirred the wonder and admiration of the House. If he had been fifty\nthey would have been astonishing; at eighty-four they were indeed a\nmarvel. He made speeches of powerful argument, of high constitutional\nreasoning, of trenchant debating force. No emergency arose for which he\nwas not ready, no demand that his versatility was not adequate to meet.\nHis energy never flagged. When the bill came on, he would put on his\nglasses, pick up the paper of amendments, and running through them like\nlightning, would say, \"Of course, that's absurd--that will never do--we can\nnever accept that--is there any harm in this?\" Too many concessions made on\nthe spur of the (M179) moment to the unionists stirred resentment in the\nnationalists, and once or twice they exploded. These rapid splendours of\nhis had their perils. I pointed out to him the pretty obvious drawbacks of\nsettling delicate questions as we went along with no chance of sounding\nthe Irishmen, and asked him to spare me quarter of an hour before\nluncheon, when the draftsman and I, having threshed out the amendments of\nthe day, could put the bare points for his consideration. He was horrified\nat the very thought. \"Out of the question. Do you want to kill me? I must\nhave the whole of the morning for general government business. Don't ask\nme.\"(303)\n\nObstruction was freely practised and without remorse. The chief fighting\ndebater against the government made a long second-reading speech, on the\nmotion that the clause stand part of the bill. A little before eight\no'clock when the fighting debater was winding up, Mr. Gladstone was\nundecided about speaking. \"What do you advise?\" he asked of a friend. \"I\nam afraid it will take too much out of you,\" the friend replied; \"but\nstill, speak for twenty minutes and no more.\" Up he rose, and for half an\nhour a delighted House was treated to one of the most remarkable\nperformances that ever was known. \"I have never seen Mr. Gladstone,\" says\none observer, \"so dramatic, so prolific of all the resources of the\nactor's art. The courage, the audacity, and the melodrama of it were\nirresistible\" (May 11).\n\n\n For ten minutes, writes another chronicler, Mr. Gladstone spoke,\n holding his audience spell-bound by his force. Then came a sudden\n change, and it seemed that he was about to collapse from sheer\n physical exhaustion. His voice failed, huskiness and\n indistinctness took the place of clearness and lucidity. Then\n pulling himself together for a great effort, Mr. Gladstone\n pointing the deprecatory finger at Mr. Chamberlain, warned the\n Irishmen to beware of him; to watch the fowler who would inveigle\n them in his snare. Loud and long rang the liberal cheers. In plain\n words he told the unionists that Mr. Chamberlain's purpose was\n none other than obstruction, and he conveyed the intimation with a\n delicate expressiveness, a superabundant good feeling, a dramatic\n action and a marvellous music of voice that conspired in their\n various qualities to produce a _tour de force_. By sheer strength\n of enthusiasm and an overflowing wealth of eloquence, Mr.\n Gladstone literally conquered every physical weakness and secured\n an effect electric in its influence even on seasoned \"old hands.\"\n Amidst high excitement and the sound of cheering that promised\n never to die away the House gradually melted into the lobbies. Mr.\n Gladstone, exhausted with his effort, chatted to Mr. Morley on the\n treasury bench. Except for these two the government side was\n deserted, and the conservatives had already disappeared. The\n nationalists sat shoulder to shoulder, a solid phalanx. They eyed\n the prime minister with eager intent, and as soon as the venerable\n statesman rose to walk out of the House, they sprang to their feet\n and rent the air with wild hurrahs.\n\n\nNo wonder if the talk downstairs at dinner among his colleagues that\nnight, all turned upon their chief, his art and power, his union of the\nhighest qualities of brain and heart with extraordinary practical\npenetration, and close watchfulness of incident and trait and personality,\ndisclosed in many a racy aside and pungent sally. The orator was fatigued,\nbut full of keen enjoyment. This was one of the three or four occasions\nwhen he was induced not to return to the House after dinner. It had always\nbeen his habit in taking charge of bills to work the ship himself. No\nwonder that he held to this habit in this case.\n\nOn another occasion ministers had taken ground that, as the debate went\non, everybody saw they could not hold. An official spokesman for the bill\nhad expressed an opinion, or intention, that, as very speedily appeared,\nIrish opposition would not allow to be maintained. There was no great\nsubstance in the point, but even a small dose of humiliation will make a\nparliamentary dish as bitter to one side as it is savoury to the other.\nThe opposition grew more and more radiant, as it grew more certain that\nthe official spokesman (M180) must be thrown over. The discomfiture of the\nministerialists at the prospect of the public mortification of their\nleaders was extreme in the same degree. \"I suppose we must give it up,\"\nsaid Mr. Gladstone. This was clear; and when he rose, he was greeted with\nmocking cheers from the enemy, though the enemy's chief men who had long\nexperience of his Protean resources were less confident. Beginning in a\ntone of easy gravity and candour, he went on to points of pleasant banter,\ngot his audience interested and amused and a little bewildered; carried\nmen with him in graceful arguments on the merits; and finally, with\nbye-play of consummate sport, showed in triumph that the concession that\nwe consented to make was so right and natural, that it must have been\ninevitable from the very first. Never were tables more effectively turned;\nthe opposition watched first with amazement, then with excitement and\ndelight as children watch a wizard; and he sat down victorious. Not\nanother word was said or could be said. \"Never in all my parliamentary\nyears,\" said a powerful veteran on the front bench opposite, as he passed\nbehind the Speaker's chair, \"never have I seen so wonderful a thing done\nas that.\"\n\nThe state of the county of Clare was a godsend to the obstructive. Clare\nwas not at that moment quite as innocent as the garden of Eden before the\nfall, but the condition was not serious; it had been twenty times worse\nbefore without occupying the House of Commons five minutes. Now an evening\na week was not thought too much for a hollow debate on disorder in Clare.\nIt was described as a definite matter of urgent importance, though it had\nslept for years, and though three times in succession the judge of assize\n(travelling entirely out of his proper business) had denounced the state\nof things. It was made to support five votes of censure in eight weeks.\n\nOn one of these votes of censure on Irish administration, moved by Mr.\nBalfour (March 27), Mr. Gladstone listened to the debate. At 8 we begged\nhim not to stay and not to take the trouble to speak, so trumpery was the\nwhole affair. He said he must, if only for five minutes, to show that he\nidentified himself with his Irish minister. He left to dine, and then\nbefore ten was on his feet, making what Lord Randolph Churchill rightly\ncalled \"a most impressive and entrancing speech.\" He talked of Pat this\nand Michael that, and Father the other, as if he had pondered their cases\nfor a month, clenching every point with extraordinary strength as well as\nconsummate ease and grace, and winding up with some phrases of wonderful\nsimplicity and concentration.\n\nA distinguished member made a motion for the exclusion of Irish cabinet\nministers from their chamber. Mr. Gladstone was reminded on the bench just\nbefore he rose, that the same proposal had been inserted in the Act of\nSettlement, and repealed in 1705. He wove this into his speech with a\nskill, and amplified confidence, that must have made everybody suppose\nthat it was a historic fact present every day to his mind. The attention\nof a law-officer sitting by was called to this rapid amplification. \"I\nnever saw anything like it in all my whole life,\" said the law-officer;\nand he was a man who had been accustomed to deal with some of the\nstrongest and quickest minds of the day as judges and advocates.\n\nOne day when a tremendous afternoon of obstruction had almost worn him\ndown, the adjournment came at seven o'clock. He was haggard and depressed.\nOn returning at ten we found him making a most lively and amusing speech\nupon procedure. He sat down as blithe as dawn. \"To make a speech of that\nsort,\" he said in deprecation of compliment, \"a man does best to dine out;\n'tis no use to lie on a sofa and think about it.\"\n\nUndoubtedly Mr. Gladstone's method in this long committee carried with it\nsome disadvantages. His discursive treatment exposed an enormous surface.\nHis abundance of illustration multiplied points for debate. His fertility\nin improvised arguments encouraged improvisation in disputants without the\ngift. Mr. Gladstone always supposed that a great theme needs to be\ncopiously handled, which is perhaps doubtful, and indeed is often an exact\ninversion of the true state of things. However that may be, copiousness is\na game at which two can play, as a patriotic opposition now and at other\ntimes has effectually disclosed. Some thought in these days that a man\nlike Lord Althorp, for (M181) instance, would have given the obstructives\nmuch more trouble in their pursuits than did Mr. Gladstone.\n\nThat Mr. Gladstone's supporters should become restive at the slow motion\nof business was natural enough. They came to ministers, calling out for a\ndrastic closure, as simple tribes might clamour to a rain-maker. It was\nthe end of June, and with a reasonable opposition conducted in decent good\nfaith, it was computed that the bill might be through committee in\nnineteen days. But the hypothesis of reason and good faith was not thought\nto be substantial, and the cabinet resolved on resort to closure on a\nscale like that on which it had been used by the late government in the\ncase of the Crimes Act of 1887, and of the Special Commission. It has been\nsaid since on excellent authority, that without speaking of their good\nfaith, Mr. Gladstone's principal opponents were now running absolutely\nshort of new ammunition, and having used the same arguments and made the\nsame speeches for so many weeks, they were so worn out that the guillotine\nwas superfluous. Of these straits, however, there was little evidence. Mr.\nGladstone entered into the operation with a good deal of chagrin. He saw\nthat the House of Commons in which he did his work and rose to glory was\nswiftly fading out of sight, and a new institution of different habits of\nresponsibility and practice taking its place.\n\nThe stage of committee lasted for sixty-three sittings. The whole\nproceedings occupied eighty-two. It is not necessary to hold that the time\nwas too long for the size of the task, if it had been well spent. The\nspirit of the debate was aptly illustrated by the plea of a brilliant\ntory, that he voted for a certain motion against a principle that he\napproved, because he thought the carrying of the motion \"would make the\nbill more detestable.\" Opposition rested on a view of Irish character and\nIrish feeling about England, that can hardly have been very deeply thought\nout, because ten years later the most bitter opponents of the Irish claim\nlaunched a policy, that was to make Irish peasants direct debtors to the\nhated England to the tune of one hundred million pounds, and was to\ndislodge by imperial cash those who were persistently called the only\nfriends of the imperial connection. The bill passed its second reading by\n347 against 304, or a majority of 43. In some critical divisions, the\nmajority ran down to 27. The third reading was carried by 301 against 267,\nor a majority of 34. It was estimated that excluding the Irish, there was\na majority against the bill of 23. If we counted England and Wales alone,\nthe adverse majority was 48. When it reached them, the Lords incontinently\nthrew it out. The roll of the Lords held 560 names, beyond the peers of\nthe royal house. Of this body of 560, no fewer than 419 voted against the\nbill, and only 41 voted for it.\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nThe session was protracted until it became the longest in the history of\nparliament. The House was sitting when Mr. Gladstone's eighty-fourth\nbirthday arrived. \"Before putting a question,\" said Mr. Balfour in a tone\nthat, after the heat and exasperations of so many months, was refreshing\nto hear, \"perhaps the right honourable gentleman will allow me, on my own\npart and on that of my friends, to offer him our most sincere\ncongratulations.\" \"Allow me to thank him,\" said Mr. Gladstone, \"for his\ngreat courtesy and kindness.\" The government pressed forward and carried\nthrough the House of Commons a measure dealing with the liability of\nemployers for accidents, and a more important measure setting up elective\nbodies for certain purposes in parishes. Into the first the Lords\nintroduced such changes as were taken to nullify all the advantages of the\nbill, and the cabinet approved of its abandonment. Into the second they\nforced back certain provisions that the Commons had with full deliberation\ndecisively rejected.\n\nMr. Gladstone was at Biarritz, he records, when this happened in January\nof 1894. He had gone there to recruit after the incomparable exertions of\nthe session, and also to consider at a cool distance and in changed scenes\nother topics that had for some weeks caused him some agitation. He now\nthought that there was a decisive case against the House of Lords. Apart\nfrom the Irish bill to which the (M182) Commons had given eighty-two days,\nthe Lords had maimed the bill for parish councils, to which had gone the\nlabour of forty-one days. Other bills they had mutilated or defeated. Upon\nthe whole, he argued, it was not too much to say that for practical\npurposes the Lords had destroyed the work of the House of Commons,\nunexampled as that work was in the time and pains bestowed upon it. \"I\nsuggested dissolution to my colleagues in London, where half, or more than\nhalf, the cabinet were found at the moment. I received by telegraph a\nhopelessly adverse reply.\" Reluctantly he let the idea drop, always\nmaintaining, however, that a signal opportunity had been lost. Even in my\nlast conversation with him in 1897, he held to his text that we ought to\nhave dissolved at this moment. The case, he said, was clear, thorough, and\ncomplete. As has been already mentioned, there were four occasions on\nwhich he believed that he had divined the right moment for a searching\nappeal to public opinion on a great question.(304) The renewal of the\nincome tax in 1853 was the first; the proposal of religious equality for\nIreland in 1868 was the second; home rule was the third, and here he was\njustified by the astonishing and real progress that he had made up to the\ncatastrophe at the end of 1890. The fourth case was this, of a dissolution\nupon the question of the relations of the two Houses.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VIII. Retirement From Public Life. (1894)\n\n\n O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden\n Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.\n\n _Henry VIII._ iii. 2.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\n\"Politics,\" wrote Mr. Gladstone in one of his private memoranda in March\n1894, \"are like a labyrinth, from the inner intricacies of which it is\neven more difficult to find the way of escape, than it was to find the way\ninto them. My age did something but not enough. The deterioration of my\nhearing helped, but insufficiently. It is the state of my sight which has\nsupplied me with effectual aid in exchanging my imperious public\nobligations for what seems to be a free place on 'the breezy common of\nhumanity.' And it has only been within the last eight months, or\nthereabouts, that the decay of working sight has advanced at such a pace\nas to present the likelihood of its becoming stringently operative at an\nearly date. It would have been very difficult to fix that date at this or\nthat precise point, without the appearance of making an arbitrary choice;\nbut then the closing of the parliamentary session (1893-4) offered a\nnatural break between the cessation and renewal of engagements, which was\nadmirably suited to the design. And yet I think it, if not certain, yet\nvery highly probable at the least, that any disposition of mine to profit\nby this break would--but for the naval scheme of my colleagues in the naval\nestimates--have been frustrated by their desire to avoid the inconveniences\nof a change, and by the pressure which they would have brought to bear\nupon me in consequence. The effect of that scheme was not to bring about\nthe construction of an artificial cause, or pretext rather, of\nresignation, but to compel me to act upon one that was rational,\nsufficient, and ready to hand.\"\n\nThis is the short, plain, and intelligible truth as to what now happened.\nThere can be no reason to-day for not stating what was for a long time\nmatter of common surmise, if not of common knowledge, that Mr. Gladstone\ndid not regard the naval estimates, opened but not settled in December\n1893, as justified by the circumstances of the time. He made a speech that\nmonth in parliament in reply to a motion from the front bench opposite,\nand there he took a position undoubtedly antagonistic to the new scheme\nthat found favour with his cabinet, though not with all its members. The\npresent writer is of course not free to go into details, beyond those that\nanybody else not a member of the cabinet would discover from Mr.\nGladstone's papers. Nor does the public lose anything of real interest by\nthis necessary reserve. Mr. Gladstone said he wished to make me \"his\ndepositary\" as things gradually moved on, and he wrote me a series of\nshort letters from day to day. If they could be read aloud in Westminster\nHall, no harm would be done either to surviving colleagues or to others;\nthey would furnish no new reason for thinking either better or worse of\nanybody; and no one with a decent sense of the value of time would concern\nhimself in all the minor detail of an ineffectual controversy. The central\nfacts were simple. Two things weighed with him, first his infirmities, and\nsecond his disapproval of the policy. How, he asked himself, could he turn\nhis back on his former self by becoming a party to swollen expenditure?\nTrue he had changed from conservative to liberal in general politics, but\nwhen he was conservative, that party was the economic party, \"Peel its\nleader being a Cobdenite.\" To assent to this new outlay in time of peace\nwas to revolutionise policy. Then he would go on--\"Owing to the part which\nI was drawn to take, first in Italy, then as to Greece, then on the\neastern question, I have come to be considered not only an English but a\nEuropean statesman. My name stands in Europe as a symbol of the policy of\npeace, moderation, and non-aggression. What would be said of my active\nparticipation in a policy that will be taken as plunging England into the\nwhirlpool of militarism? Third, I have been in active public life for a\nperiod nearly as long as the time between the beginning of Mr. Pitt's\nfirst ministry and the close of Sir Robert Peel's; between 1783 and\n1846--sixty-two years and a half. During that time I have uniformly opposed\nmilitarism.\" Thus he would put his case.\n\nAfter the naval estimates were brought forward, attempts were naturally\nmade at accommodation, for whether he availed himself of the end of the\nsession as a proper occasion of retirement or not, he was bound to try to\nget the estimates down if he could. He laboured hard at the task of\nconversion, and though some of his colleagues needed no conversion, with\nthe majority he did not prevail. He admitted that he had made limited\nconcessions to scares in 1860 and in 1884, and that he had besides been\nrepeatedly responsible for extraordinary financial provisions having\nreference to some crisis of the day:--\n\n\n I did this, (1) By a preliminary budget in 1854; (2) By the final\n budget of July 1859; by the vote of credit in July 1870; and again\n by the vote of credit in 1884. Every one of these was special, and\n was shown in each case respectively to be special by the sequel:\n no one of them had reference to the notion of establishing\n dominant military or even naval power in Europe. Their amounts\n were various, but were adapted to the view taken, at least by me,\n of the exigency actually present.(305)\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nWhile the House after so many months of toil was still labouring manfully\nupon English bills, two of them of no secondary importance, it was decided\nby his family and their advisers that Mr. Gladstone should again try the\neffects of Biarritz, and thither they went on January 13. Distance,\nhowever, could not efface from his mind all thought of the decision that\nthe end of the session would exact from him. (M183) Rumours began to fly\nabout in London that the prime minister upon his return intended to\nresign, and they were naturally clad with intrinsic probability. From\nBiarritz a communication was made to the press with his authority. It was\nto this effect, that the statement that Mr. Gladstone had definitely\ndecided, or had decided at all, on resigning office was untrue. It was\ntrue that for many months past his age and the condition of his sight and\nhearing had in his judgment made relief from public cares desirable, and\nthat accordingly his tenure of office had been at any moment liable to\ninterruption from these causes, in their nature permanent.\n\nNature meanwhile could not set back the shadow on the dial. On his coming\nback from Biarritz (February 10) neither eyes nor ears were better. How\nshould they be at eighty-five? The session was ending, the prorogation\nspeech was to be composed, and the time had come for that \"natural break\"\nbetween the cessation and renewal of his official obligations, of which we\nhave already heard him speak. His colleagues carried almost to importunity\ntheir appeals to him to stay; to postpone what one of them called, and\nmany of them truly felt to be, this \"moment of anguish.\" The division of\nopinion on estimates remained, but even if that could have been bridged,\nhis sight and hearing could not be made whole. The rational and sufficient\ncause of resignation, as he only too justly described it, was strong as\never. Whether if the cabinet had come to his view on estimates, he would\nin spite of his great age and infirmities have come to their view of the\nimportance of his remaining, we cannot tell. According to his wont, he\navoided decision until the time had come when decision was necessary, and\nthen he made up his mind, \"without the appearance of an arbitrary choice,\"\nthat the time had come for accepting the natural break, and quitting\noffice.\n\nOn Feb. 27, arriving in the evening at Euston from Ireland, I found a\nmessenger with a note from Mr. Gladstone begging me to call on my way\nhome. I found him busy as usual at his table in Downing Street. \"I suppose\n'tis the long habit of a life,\" he said cheerily, \"but even in the midst\nof these passages, if ever I have half or quarter of an hour to spare, I\nfind myself turning to my Horace translation.\" He said the prorogation\nspeech would be settled on Thursday; the Queen would consider it on\nFriday; the council would be held on Saturday, and on that evening or\nafternoon he should send in his letter of resignation.\n\nThe next day he had an audience at Buckingham Palace, and indirectly\nconveyed to the Queen what she might soon expect to learn from him. His\nrigorous sense of loyalty to colleagues made it improper and impossible to\nbring either before the Queen or the public his difference of judgment on\nmatters for which his colleagues, not he, would be responsible, and on\nwhich they, not he, would have to take action. He derived certain\nimpressions at his audience, he told me, one of them being that the\nSovereign would not seek his advice as to a successor.\n\nHe wrote to inform the Prince of Wales of the approaching event:--\n\n\n In thus making it known to your royal Highness, he concluded, I\n desire to convey, on my own and my wife's part our fervent thanks\n for the unbounded kindness which we have at all times received\n from your royal Highness and not less from the beloved Princess of\n Wales. The devotion of an old man is little worth; but if at any\n time there be the smallest service which by information or\n suggestion your royal Highness may believe me capable of\n rendering, I shall remain as much at your command as if I had\n continued to be an active and responsible servant of the Queen. I\n remain with heartfelt loyalty and gratitude, etc.\n\n\nThe Prince expressed his sincere regret, said how deeply the Princess and\nhe were touched by the kind words about them, and how greatly for a long\nnumber of years they had valued his friendship and that of Mrs. Gladstone.\nMr. Balfour, to whom he also confidentially told the news, communicated\namong other graceful words, \"the special debt of gratitude that was due to\nhim for the immense public service he had performed in fostering and\nkeeping alive the great traditions of the House of Commons.\" The day after\nthat (March 1) was his last cabinet council, and a painful day it (M184)\nwas. The business of the speech and other matters were discussed as usual,\nthen came the end. In his report to the Queen--his last--he said:--\n\n\n Looking forward to the likelihood that this might be the last\n occasion on which Mr. Gladstone and his colleagues might meet in\n the cabinet, Lord Kimberley and Sir William Harcourt on their own\n part and on that of the ministers generally, used words\n undeservedly kind of acknowledgment and farewell. Lord Kimberley\n will pray your Majesty to appoint a council for Saturday, at as\n early an hour as may be convenient.\n\n\nMr. Gladstone sat composed and still as marble, and the emotion of the\ncabinet did not gain him for an instant. He followed the \"words of\nacknowledgment and farewell\" in a little speech of four or five minutes,\nhis voice unbroken and serene, the tone low, grave, and steady. He was\nglad to know that he had justification in the condition of his senses. He\nwas glad to think that notwithstanding difference upon a public question,\nprivate friendships would remain unaltered and unimpaired. Then hardly\nabove a breath, but every accent heard, he said \"God bless you all.\" He\nrose slowly and went out of one door, while his colleagues with minds\noppressed filed out by the other. In his diary he enters--\"A really moving\nscene.\"\n\nA little later in the afternoon he made his last speech in the House of\nCommons. It was a vigorous assault upon the House of Lords. His mind had\nchanged since the day in September 1884 when he had declared to an\nemissary from the court that he hated organic change in the House of\nLords, and would do much to avert that mischief.(306) Circumstances had\nnow altered the case; we had come to a more acute stage. Were they to\naccept the changes made by the Lords in the bill for parish councils, or\nwere they to drop it? The question, he said, is whether the work of the\nHouse of Lords is not merely to modify, but to annihilate the whole work\nof the House of Commons, work which has been performed at an amount of\nsacrifice--of time, of labour, of convenience, and perhaps of health--but at\nany rate an amount of sacrifice totally unknown to the House of Lords. The\ngovernment had resolved that great as were the objections to acceptance of\nthe changes made by the Lords, the arguments against rejection were still\nweightier. Then he struck a note of passion, and spoke with rising fire:--\n\n\n We are compelled to accompany that acceptance with the sorrowful\n declaration that the differences, not of a temporary or casual\n nature merely, but differences of conviction, differences of\n prepossession, differences of mental habit, and differences of\n fundamental tendency, between the House of Lords and the House of\n Commons, appear to have reached a development in the present year\n such as to create a state of things of which we are compelled to\n say that, in our judgment, it cannot continue. Sir, I do not wish\n to use hard words, which are easily employed and as easily\n retorted--it is a game that two can play at--but without using hard\n words, without presuming to judge of motives, without desiring or\n venturing to allege imputations, I have felt it a duty to state\n what appeared to me to be indisputable facts. The issue which is\n raised between a deliberative assembly, elected by the votes of\n more than 6,000,000 people, and a deliberative assembly occupied\n by many men of virtue, by many men of talent, of course with\n considerable diversities and varieties, is a controversy which,\n when once raised, must go forward to an issue.\n\n\nMen did not know that they were listening to his last speech, but his\nwords fell in with the eager humour of his followers around him, and he\nsat down amid vehement plaudits. Then when the business was at an end, he\nrose, and for the last time walked away from the House of Commons. He had\nfirst addressed it sixty-one years before.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nThe following day (March 2) he busied himself in packing his papers, and\nworking at intervals on his translation of Horace. He told me that he had\nnow reason to suppose that the Queen might ask him for advice as to his\nsuccessor. After some talk, he said that if asked he should advise her to\nsend for Lord Spencer. As it happened, his advice was not sought. That\nevening he went to Windsor to dine and (M185) sleep. The next day was to\nbe the council. Here is his memorandum of the last audience on Saturday,\nMarch 3(307):--\n\n\n As I crossed the quadrangle at 10.20 on my way to St. George's\n Chapel, I met Sir H. Ponsonby, who said he was anxious to speak to\n me about the future. He was much impressed with the movement among\n a body of members of parliament against having any peer for prime\n minister. I signified briefly that I did not think there should be\n too ready a submission to such a movement. There was not time to\n say a great deal, and I had something serious to say, so we\n adjourned the conversation till half past eleven, when I should\n return from St. George's.\n\n He came at that time and opened on the same lines, desiring to\n obtain from me whatever I thought proper to say as to persons in\n the arrangements for the future. I replied to him that this was in\n my view a most serious matter. All my thoughts on it were\n absolutely at the command of the Queen. And I should be equally at\n his command, if he inquired of me from her and in her name; but\n that otherwise my lips must be sealed. I knew from him that he was\n in search of information to report to the Queen, but this was a\n totally different matter.\n\n I entered, however, freely on the general question of the movement\n among a section of the House of Commons. I thought it impossible\n to say at the moment, but I should not take for granted that it\n would be formidable or regard it as _in limine_ disposing of the\n question. Up to a certain point, I thought it a duty to strengthen\n the hands of our small minority and little knot of ministers in\n the Lords, by providing these ministers with such weight as\n attaches to high office. All this, or rather all that touched the\n main point, namely the point of a peer prime minister, he without\n doubt reported.\n\n The council train came down and I joined the ministers in the\n drawing-room. I received various messages as to the time when I\n was to see the Queen, and when it would be most convenient to me.\n I interpret this variety as showing that she was nervous. It ended\n in fixing the time after the council and before luncheon. I\n carried with me a box containing my resignation, and, the council\n being over, handed it to her immediately, and told her that it\n contained my tender of resignation. She asked whether she ought\n then to read it. I said there was nothing in the letter to require\n it. It repeated my former letter of notice, with the requisite\n additions.\n\n I must notice what, though slight, supplied the only incident of\n any interest in this perhaps rather memorable audience, which\n closed a service that would reach to fifty-three years on\n September 3, when I was sworn privy councillor before the Queen at\n Claremont. When I came into the room and came near to take the\n seat she has now for some time courteously commanded, I did think\n she was going to \"break down.\" If I was not mistaken, at any rate\n she rallied herself, as I thought, by a prompt effort, and\n remained collected and at her ease. Then came the conversation,\n which may be called neither here nor there. Its only material\n feature was negative. There was not one syllable on the past,\n except a repetition, an emphatic repetition, of the thanks she had\n long ago amply rendered for what I had done, a service of no great\n merit, in the matter of the Duke of Coburg, and which I assured\n her would not now escape my notice if occasion should arise. There\n was the question of eyes and ears, of German _versus_ English\n oculists, she believing in the German as decidedly superior. Some\n reference to my wife, with whom, she had had an interview and had\n ended it affectionately,--and various nothings. No touch on the\n subject of the last Ponsonby conversation. Was I wrong in not\n tendering orally my best wishes? I was afraid that anything said\n by me should have the appearance of _touting_. A departing servant\n has some title to offer his hopes and prayers for the future; but\n a servant is one who has done, or tried to do, service in the\n past. There is in all this a great sincerity. There also seems to\n be some little mystery as to my own case with her. I saw no sign\n of embarrassment or preoccupation. The Empress Frederick was\n outside in the corridor. She bade me a most kind and warm\n farewell, which I had done nothing to deserve.\n\n\nThe letter tendered to the Queen in the box was this:--\n\n\n Mr. Gladstone presents his most humble duty to your Majesty. The\n close of the session and the approach of a new one have offered\n Mr. Gladstone a suitable opportunity for considering the condition\n of his sight and hearing, both of them impaired, in relation to\n his official obligations. As they now place serious and also\n growing obstacles in the way of the efficient discharge of those\n obligations, the result has been that he has found it his duty\n humbly to tender to your Majesty his resignation of the high\n offices which your Majesty has been pleased to intrust to him. His\n desire to make this surrender is accompanied with a grateful sense\n of the condescending kindnesses, which your Majesty has graciously\n shown him on so many occasions during the various periods for\n which he has had the honour to serve your Majesty. Mr. Gladstone\n will not needlessly burden your Majesty with a recital of\n particulars. He may, however, say that although at eighty-four\n years of age he is sensible of a diminished capacity for prolonged\n labour, this is not of itself such as would justify his praying to\n be relieved from the restraints and exigencies of official life.\n But his deafness has become in parliament, and even in the\n cabinet, a serious inconvenience, of which he must reckon on more\n progressive increase. More grave than this, and more rapid in its\n growth, is the obstruction of vision which arises from cataract in\n both his eyes. It has cut him off in substance from the\n newspapers, and from all except the best types in the best lights,\n while even as to these he cannot master them with that ordinary\n facility and despatch which he deems absolutely required for the\n due despatch of his public duties. In other respects than reading\n the operation of the complaint is not as yet so serious, but this\n one he deems to be vital. Accordingly he brings together these two\n facts, the condition of his sight and hearing, and the break in\n the course of public affairs brought about in the ordinary way by\n the close of the session. He has therefore felt that this is the\n fitting opportunity for the resignation which by this letter he\n humbly prays your Majesty to accept.\n\n\nIn the course of the day the Queen wrote what I take to be her last letter\nto him:--\n\n\n _Windsor Castle, March 3, 1894._--Though the Queen has already\n accepted Mr. Gladstone's resignation, and has taken leave of him,\n she does not like to leave his letter tendering his resignation\n unanswered. She therefore writes these few lines to say that she\n thinks that after so many years of arduous labour and\n responsibility he is right in wishing to be relieved at his age of\n these arduous duties. And she trusts he will be able to enjoy\n peace and quiet with his excellent and devoted wife in health and\n happiness, and that his eyesight may improve.\n\n The Queen would gladly have conferred a peerage on Mr. Gladstone,\n but she knows he would not accept it.\n\n\nHis last act in relation to this closing scene of the great official drama\nwas a letter to General Ponsonby (March 5):--\n\n\n The first entrance of a man to Windsor Castle in a responsible\n character, is a great event in his life; and his last departure\n from it is not less moving. But in and during the process which\n led up to this transaction on Saturday, my action has been in the\n strictest sense sole, and it has required me in circumstances\n partly known to harden my heart into a flint. However, it is not\n even now so hard, but that I can feel what you have most kindly\n written; nor do I fail to observe with pleasure that you do not\n speak absolutely in the singular. If there were feelings that made\n the occasion sad, such feelings do not die with the occasion. But\n this letter must not be wholly one of egotism. I have known and\n have liked and admired all the men who have served the Queen in\n your delicate and responsible office; and have liked most,\n probably because I knew him most, the last of them, that most\n true-hearted man, General Grey. But forgive me for saying you are\n \"to the manner born\"; and such a combination of tact and temper\n with loyalty, intelligence, and truth I cannot expect to see\n again. Pray remember these are words which can only pass from an\n old man to one much younger, though trained in a long experience.\n\n\nIt is hardly in human nature, in spite of Charles V., Sulla, and some\nother historic persons, to lay down power beyond recall, without a secret\npang. In Prior's lines that came to the mind of brave Sir Walter Scott, as\nhe saw the curtain falling on his days,--\n\n\n The man in graver tragic known,\n (Though his best part long since was done,)\n Still on the stage desires to tarry....\n Unwilling to retire, though weary.\n\n\nWhether the departing minister had a lingering thought that in the\ndispensations of the world, purposes and services would still arise to\nwhich even yet he might one day be summoned, we do not know. Those who\nwere nearest to him believe not, and assuredly he made no outer sign.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IX. The Close. (1894-1898)\n\n\n Natural death is as it were a haven and a rest to us after long\n navigation. And the noble Soul is like a good mariner; for he,\n when he draws near the port, lowers his sails and enters it softly\n with gentle steerage.... And herein we have from our own nature a\n great lesson of suavity; for in such a death as this there is no\n grief nor any bitterness: but as a ripe apple is lightly and\n without violence loosened from its branch, so our soul without\n grieving departs from the body in which it hath been.--DANTE,\n _Convito_.(308)\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nAfter the first wrench was over, and an end had come to the demands,\npursuits, duties, glories, of powerful and active station held for a long\nlifetime, Mr. Gladstone soon settled to the new conditions of his\nexistence, knowing that for him all that could be left was, in the figure\nof his great Italian poet,\"to lower sails and gather in his ropes.\"(309)\nHe was not much in London, and when he came he stayed in the pleasant\nretreat to which his affectionate and ever-attached friends, Lord and Lady\nAberdeen, so often invited him at Dollis Hill. Much against his will, he\ndid not resign his seat in the House, and he held it until the dissolution\nof 1895.(310) In June (1895) he took a final cruise in one of Sir Donald\nCurrie's ships, visiting Hamburg, the new North Sea canal, and Copenhagen\nonce more. His injured sight was a far deadlier breach in the habit of his\ndays than withdrawal from office or from parliament. His own tranquil\nwords written in the year in which he laid down his part in the shows of\nthe world's huge stage, tell the story:--\n\n\n _July 25, 1894._--For the first time in my life there has been\n given to me by the providence of God a period of comparative\n leisure, reckoning at the present date to four and a half months.\n Such a period drives the mind in upon itself, and invites, almost\n constrains, to recollection, and the rendering at least internally\n an account of life; further it lays the basis of a habit of\n meditation, to the formation of which the course of my existence,\n packed and crammed with occupation outwards, never stagnant,\n oft-times overdriven, has been extremely hostile. As there is no\n life which in its detail does not seem to afford intervals of\n brief leisure, or what is termed \"waiting\" for others engaged with\n us in some common action, these are commonly spent in murmurs and\n in petulant desire for their termination. But in reality they\n supply excellent opportunities for brief or ejaculatory prayer.\n\n As this new period of my life has brought with it my retirement\n from active business in the world, it affords a good opportunity\n for breaking off the commonly dry daily journal, or ledger as it\n might almost be called, in which for seventy years I have recorded\n the chief details of my outward life. If life be continued I\n propose to note in it henceforward only principal events or\n occupations. This first breach since the latter part of May in\n this year has been involuntary. When the operation on my eye for\n cataract came, it was necessary for a time to suspend all use of\n vision. Before that, from the beginning of March, it was only my\n out-of-door activity or intercourse that had been paralysed....\n For my own part, _suave mari magno_ steals upon me; or at any\n rate, an inexpressible sense of relief from an exhausting life of\n incessant contention. A great revolution has been operated in my\n correspondence, which had for many years been a serious burden,\n and at times one almost intolerable. During the last months of\n partial incapacity I have not written with my own hand probably so\n much as one letter per day. Few people have had a smaller number\n of _otiose_ conversations probably than I in the last fifty years;\n but I have of late seen more friends and more freely, though\n without practical objects in view. Many kind friends have read\n books to me; I must place Lady Sarah Spencer at the head of the\n proficients in that difficult art; in distinctness of\n articulation, with low clear voice, she is supreme. Dearest\n Catherine has been my chaplain from morning to morning. My\n church-going has been almost confined to mid-day communions, which\n have not required my abandonment of the reclining posture for long\n periods of time. Authorship has not been quite in abeyance; I have\n been able to write what I was not allowed to read, and have\n composed two theological articles for the _Nineteenth Century_ of\n August and September respectively.(311)\n\n Independently of the days of blindness after the operation, the\n visits of doctors have become a noticeable item of demand upon\n time. Of physic I incline to believe I have had as much, in 1894\n as in my whole previous life. I have learned for the first time\n the extraordinary comfort of the aid which the attendance of a\n nurse can give. My health will now be matter of little interest\n except to myself. But I have not yet abandoned the hope that I may\n be permitted to grapple with that considerable armful of work,\n which had been long marked out for my old age; the question of my\n recovering sight being for the present in abeyance.\n\n _Sept. 13._--I am not yet thoroughly accustomed to my new stage of\n existence, in part because the remains of my influenza have not\n yet allowed me wholly to resume the habits of health. But I am\n thoroughly content with my retirement; and I cast no longing,\n lingering look behind. I pass onward from it _oculo irretorto_.\n There is plenty of work before me, peaceful work and work directed\n to the supreme, _i.e._ the spiritual cultivation of mankind, if it\n pleases God to give me time and vision to perform it.\n\n _Oct. 1._--As far as I can at present judge, all the signs of the\n eye being favourable, the new form of vision will enable me to get\n through in a given time about half the amount of work which would\n have been practicable under the old. I speak of reading and\n writing work, which have been principal with me when I had the\n option. In conversation there is no difference, although there are\n various drawbacks in what we call society. On the 20th of last\n month when I had gone through my crises of trials, Mr. Nettleship,\n [the oculist], at once declared that any further operation would\n be superfluous.\n\n I am unable to continue attendance at the daily morning service,\n not on account of the eyesight but because I may not rise before\n ten at the earliest. And so a Hawarden practice of over fifty\n years is interrupted; not without some degree of hope that it may\n be resumed. Two evening services, one at 5 P.M. and the other at\n 7, afford me a limited consolation. I drive almost every day, and\n thus grow to my dissatisfaction more burdensome. My walking powers\n are limited; once I have exceeded two miles by a little. A large\n part of the day remains available at my table; daylight is\n especially precious; my correspondence is still a weary weight,\n though I have admirable help from children. Upon the whole the\n change is considerable. In early and mature life a man walks to\n his daily work with a sense of the duty and capacity of\n self-provision, a certain {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER KAPPA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~} [independence] (which the\n Greeks carried into the moral world). Now that sense is reversed;\n it seems as if I must, God knows how reluctantly, lay burdens upon\n others; and as if capacity were, so to speak, dealt out to me\n mercifully--but by armfuls.\n\n\nOld age until the very end brought no grave changes in physical\nconditions. He missed sorely his devoted friend, Sir Andrew Clark, to\nwhose worth as man and skill as healer he had borne public testimony in\nMay 1894. But for physician's service there was no special need. His\nordinary life, though of diminished power, suffered little interruption.\n\"The attitude,\" he wrote, \"in which I endeavoured to fix myself was that\nof a soldier on parade, in a line of men drawn up ready to march and\nwaiting for the word of command. I sought to be in preparation for prompt\nobedience, feeling no desire to go, but on the other hand without\nreluctance because firmly convinced that whatever He ordains for us is\nbest, best both for us and for all.\"\n\nHe worked with all his old zest at his edition of Bishop Butler, and his\nvolume of studies subsidiary to Butler. He wrote to the Duke of Argyll\n(Dec. 5, 1895):--\n\n\n I find my Butler a weighty undertaking, but I hope it will be\n useful at least for the important improvements of form which I am\n making.\n\n It is very difficult to keep one's temper in dealing with M.\n Arnold when he touches on religious matters. His patronage of a\n Christianity fashioned by himself is to me more offensive and\n trying than rank unbelief. But I try, or seem to myself to try, to\n shrink from controversy of which I have had so much. Organic\n evolution sounds to me a Butlerish idea, but I doubt if he ever\n employed either term, certainly he has not the phrase, and I\n cannot as yet identify the passage to which you may refer.\n\n _Dec. 9._--Many thanks for your letter. The idea of evolution is\n without doubt deeply ingrained in Butler. The case of the animal\n creation had a charm for him, and in his first chapter he opens,\n without committing himself, the idea of their possible elevation\n to a much higher state. I have always been struck by the glee with\n which negative writers strive to get rid of \"special creation,\" as\n if by that method they got the idea of God out of their way,\n whereas I know not what right they have to say that the small\n increments effected by the divine workman are not as truly special\n as the large. It is remarkable that Butler has taken such hold\n both on nonconformists in England and outside of England,\n especially on those bodies in America which are descended from\n English non-conformists.\n\n\nHe made progress with his writings on the Olympian Religion, without\nregard to Acton's warnings and exhortations to read a score of volumes by\nlearned explorers with uncouth names. He collected a new series of his\n_Gleanings_. By 1896 he had got his cherished project of hostel and\nlibrary at St. Deiniol's in Hawarden village, near to its launch. He was\ndrawn into a discussion on the validity of anglican orders, and even wrote\na letter to Cardinal Rampolla, in his effort to realise the dream of\nChristian unity. The Vatican replied in such language as might have been\nexpected by anybody with less than Mr. Gladstone's inextinguishable faith\nin the virtues of argumentative persuasion. Soon he saw the effects of\nChristian disunion upon a bloodier stage. In the autumn of this year he\nwas roused to one more vehement protest like that twenty years before\nagainst the abominations of Turkish rule, this time in Armenia. He had\nbeen induced to address a meeting in Chester in August 1895, and now a\nyear later he travelled to Liverpool (Sept. 24) to a non-party gathering\nat Hengler's Circus. He always described this as the place most agreeable\nto the speaker of all those with which he was acquainted. \"Had I the years\nof 1876 upon me,\" he said to one of his sons, \"gladly would I start\nanother campaign, even if as long as that.\"\n\nTo discuss, almost even to describe, the course of his policy and\nproceedings in the matter of Armenia, would bring us into a mixed\ncontroversy affecting statesmen now living, who played an unexpected part,\nand that controversy may well stand over for another, and let us hope a\nvery distant, day. Whether we had a right to interfere single-handed;\nwhether we were bound as a duty to interfere under the Cyprus Convention;\nwhether our intervention would provoke hostilities on the part of other\nPowers and even kindle a general conflagration in Europe; whether our\nseverance of diplomatic relations with the Sultan or our withdrawal from\nthe concert of Europe would do any good; what possible form armed\nintervention could take--all these are questions on which both liberals and\ntories vehemently differed from one another then, and will vehemently\ndiffer again. Mr. Gladstone was bold and firm in his replies. As to the\nidea, he said, that all independent action on the part of this great\ncountry was to be made chargeable for producing war in Europe, \"that is in\nmy opinion a mistake almost more deplorable than almost any committed in\nthe history of diplomacy.\" We had a right under the convention. We had a\nduty under the responsibilities incurred at Paris in 1856, at Berlin in\n1878. The upshot of his arguments at Liverpool was that we should break\noff relations with the Sultan; that we should undertake not to turn\nhostilities to our private advantage; that we should limit our proceedings\nto the suppression of mischief in its aggravated form; and if Europe\nthreatened us with war it might be necessary to recede, as France had\nreceded under parallel circumstances from her individual policy on the\neastern question in 1840,--receded without loss either of honour or power,\nbelieving that she had been right and wise and others wrong and unwise.\n\nIf Mr. Gladstone had still had, as he puts it, \"the years of 1876,\" he\nmight have made as deep a mark. As it was, his speech at Liverpool was his\nlast great deliverance to a public audience. As the year ended this was\nhis birthday entry:--\n\n\n _Dec. 29, 1896._--My long and tangled life this day concludes its\n 87th year. My father died four days short of that term. I know of\n no other life so long in the Gladstone family, and my profession\n has been that of politician, or, more strictly, minister of state,\n an extremely short-lived race when their scene of action has been\n in the House of Commons, Lord Palmerston being the only complete\n exception. In the last twelve months eyes and ears may have\n declined, but not materially. The occasional contraction of the\n chest is the only inconvenience that can be called new. I am not\n without hope that Cannes may have a [illegible] to act upon it.\n The blessings of family life continue to be poured in the largest\n measure upon my unworthy head. Even my temporal affairs have\n thriven. Still old age is appointed for the gradual loosening and\n succeeding snapping of the threads. I visited Lord Stratford when\n he was, say, 90 or 91 or thereabouts. He said to me, \"It is not a\n blessing.\" As to politics, I think the basis of my mind is laid\n principally in finance and philanthropy. The prospects of the\n first are darker than I have ever known them. Those of the second\n are black also, but with more hope of some early dawn. I do not\n enter on interior matters. It is so easy to write, but to write\n honestly nearly impossible. Lady Grosvenor gave me to-day a\n delightful present of a small crucifix. I am rather too\n independent of symbol.\n\n\nThis is the last entry in the diaries of seventy years.\n\nAt the end of January 1897, the Gladstones betook themselves once more to\nLord Rendel's _palazzetto_, as they called it, at Cannes.\n\n\n I had hoped during this excursion, he journalises, to make much\n way with my autobiographica. But this was in a large degree\n frustrated, first by invalidism, next by the eastern question, on\n which I was finally obliged to write something.(312) Lastly, and\n not least, by a growing sense of decline in my daily amount of\n brain force available for serious work. My power to read (but to\n read very slowly indeed since the cataract came) for a\n considerable number of hours daily, thank God, continues. This is\n a great mercy. While on my outing, I may have read, of one kind\n and another, twenty volumes. Novels enter into this list rather\n considerably. I have begun seriously to ask myself whether I shall\n ever be able to face \"The Olympian Religion.\"\n\n\nThe Queen happened to be resident at Cimiez at this time, and Mr.\nGladstone wrote about their last meeting:--\n\n\n A message came down to us inviting us to go into the hotel and\n take tea with the Princess Louise. We repaired to the hotel, and\n had our tea with Miss Paget, who was in attendance. The Princess\n soon came in, and after a short delay we were summoned into the\n Queen's presence. No other English people were on the ground. We\n were shown into a room tolerably, but not brilliantly lighted,\n much of which was populated by a copious supply of Hanoverian\n royalties. The Queen was in the inner part of the room, and behind\n her stood the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cambridge.\n Notwithstanding my enfeebled sight, my vision is not much impaired\n for practical purposes in cases such as this, where I am\n thoroughly familiar with the countenance and whole contour of any\n person to be seen. My wife preceded, and Mary followed me. The\n Queen's manner did not show the old and usual vitality. It was\n still, but at the same time very decidedly kind, such as I had not\n seen it for a good while before my final resignation. She gave me\n her hand, a thing which is, I apprehended, rather rare with men,\n and which had never happened with me during all my life, though\n that life, be it remembered, had included some periods of rather\n decided favour. Catherine sat down near her, and I at a little\n distance. For a good many years she had habitually asked me to\n sit. My wife spoke freely and a good deal to the Queen, but the\n answers appeared to me to be very slight. As to myself, I\n expressed satisfaction at the favourable accounts I had heard of\n the accommodation at Cimiez, and perhaps a few more words of\n routine. To speak frankly, it seemed to me that the Queen's\n peculiar faculty and habit of conversation had disappeared. It was\n a faculty, not so much the free offspring of a rich and powerful\n mind, as the fruit of assiduous care with long practice and much\n opportunity. After about ten minutes, it was signified to us that\n we had to be presented to all the other royalties, and so passed\n the remainder of this meeting.\n\n\nIn the early autumn of 1897 he found himself affected by (M186) what was\nsupposed to be a peculiar form of catarrh. He went to stay with Mr.\nArmitstead at Butterstone in Perthshire. I saw him on several occasions\nafterwards, but this was the last time when I found him with all the\nfreedom, full self-possession, and kind geniality of old days. He was\nkeenly interested at my telling him that I had seen James Martineau a few\ndays before, in his cottage further north in Inverness-shire; that\nMartineau, though he had now passed his ninety-second milestone on life's\nroad, was able to walk five or six hundred feet up his hillside every day,\nwas at his desk at eight each morning, and read theology a good many hours\nbefore he went to bed at night. Mr. Gladstone's conversation was varied,\nglowing, full of reminiscence. He had written me in the previous May,\nhoping among other kind things that \"we may live more and more in sympathy\nand communion.\" I never saw him more attractive than in the short pleasant\ntalks of these three or four days. He discussed some of the sixty or\nseventy men with whom he had been associated in cabinet life,(313) freely\nbut charitably, though he named two whom he thought to have behaved worse\nto him than others. He repeated his expression of enormous admiration for\nGraham. Talked about his own voice. After he had made his long budget\nspeech in 1860, a certain member, supposed to be an operatic expert, came\nto him and said, \"You must take great care, or else you will destroy the\n_colour_ in your voice.\" He had kept a watch on general affairs. The\nspeech of a foreign ruler upon divine right much incensed him. He thought\nthat Lord Salisbury had managed to set the Turk up higher than he had\nreached since the Crimean war; and his policy had weakened Greece, the\nmost liberal of the eastern communities. We fought over again some old\nbattles of 1886 and 1892-4. Mr. Armitstead had said to him--\"Oh, sir,\nyou'll live ten years to come.\" \"I do trust,\" he answered as he told me\nthis, \"that God in his mercy will spare me that.\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nThen came months of distress. The facial annoyance grew into acute and\ncontinued pain, and to pain he proved to be exceedingly sensitive. It did\nnot master him, but there were moments that seemed almost of collapse and\ndefeat. At last the night was gathering\n\n\n About the burning crest\n Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun.(314)\n\n\nThey took him at the end of November (1897) to Cannes, to the house of\nLord Rendel.\n\nSometimes at dinner he talked with his host, with Lord Welby, or Lord\nActon, with his usual force, but most of the time he lay in extreme\nsuffering and weariness, only glad when they soothed him with music. It\nwas decided that he had better return, and in hope that change of air\nmight even yet be some palliative, he went to Bournemouth, which he\nreached on February 22. For weeks past he had not written nor read, save\none letter that he wrote in his journey home to Lady Salisbury upon a\nrather narrow escape of her husband's in a carriage accident. On March 18\nhis malady was pronounced incurable, and he learned that it was likely to\nend in a few weeks. He received the verdict with perfect serenity and with\na sense of unutterable relief, for his sufferings had been cruel. Four\ndays later he started home to die. On leaving Bournemouth before stepping\ninto the train, he turned round, and to those who were waiting on the\nplatform to see him off, he said with quiet gravity, \"God bless you and\nthis place, and the land you love.\" At Hawarden he bore the dreadful\nburden of his pain with fortitude, supported by the ritual ordinances of\nhis church and faith. Music soothed him, the old composers being those he\nliked best to hear. Messages of sympathy were read to him, and he listened\nsilently or with a word of thanks.\n\n\"The retinue of the whole world's good wishes\" flowed to the \"large upper\nchamber looking to the sunrising, where the aged pilgrim lay.\" Men and\nwomen of every communion offered up earnest prayers for him. Those who\nwere of no communion thought with pity, sympathy, and sorrow of\n\n\n A Power passing from the earth\n To breathless Nature's dark abyss.\n\n\n(M187) From every rank in social life came outpourings in every key of\nreverence and admiration. People appeared--as is the way when death\ncomes--to see his life and character as a whole, and to gather up in his\npersonality, thus transfigured by the descending shades, all the best\nhopes and aspirations of their own best hours. A certain grandeur\noverspread the moving scene. Nothing was there for tears. It was \"no\nimportunate and heavy load.\" The force was spent, but it had been nobly\nspent in devoted and effective service for his country and his fellow-men.\n\nFrom the Prince of the Black Mountain came a telegram: \"Many years ago,\nwhen Montenegro, my beloved country, was in difficulties and in danger,\nyour eloquent voice and powerful pen successfully pleaded and worked on\nher behalf. At this time vigorous and prosperous, with a bright future\nbefore her, she turns with sympathetic eye to the great English statesman\nto whom she owes so much, and for whose present sufferings she feels so\ndeeply.\" And he answered by a message that \"his interest in Montenegro had\nalways been profound, and he prayed that it might prosper and be blessed\nin all its undertakings.\"\n\nOf the thousand salutations of pity and hope none went so much to his\nheart as one from Oxford--an expression of true feeling, in language worthy\nof her fame:--\n\n\n At yesterday's meeting of the hebdomadal council, wrote the\n vice-chancellor, an unanimous wish was expressed that I should\n convey to you the message of our profound sorrow and affection at\n the sore trouble and distress which you are called upon to endure.\n While we join in the universal regret with which the nation\n watches the dark cloud which has fallen upon the evening of a\n great and impressive life, we believe that Oxford may lay claim to\n a deeper and more intimate share in this sorrow. Your brilliant\n career in our university, your long political connection with it,\n and your fine scholarship, kindled in this place of ancient\n learning, have linked you to Oxford by no ordinary bond, and we\n cannot but hope that you will receive with satisfaction this\n expression of deep-seated kindliness and sympathy from us.\n\n We pray that the Almighty may support you and those near and dear\n to you in this trial, and may lighten the load of suffering which\n you bear with such heroic resignation.\n\n\nTo this he listened more attentively and over it he brooded long, then he\ndictated to his youngest daughter sentence by sentence at intervals his\nreply:--\n\n\n There is no expression of Christian sympathy that I value more\n than that of the ancient university of Oxford, the God-fearing and\n God-sustaining university of Oxford. I served her, perhaps\n mistakenly, but to the best of my ability. My most earnest prayers\n are hers to the uttermost and to the last.\n\n\nWhen May opened, it was evident that the end was drawing near. On the 13th\nhe was allowed to receive visits of farewell from Lord Rosebery and from\nmyself, the last persons beyond his household to see him. He was hardly\nconscious. On the early morning of the 19th, his family all kneeling\naround the bed on which he lay in the stupor of coming death, without a\nstruggle he ceased to breathe. Nature outside--wood and wide lawn and\ncloudless far-off sky--shone at her fairest.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nOn the day after his death, in each of the two Houses the leader made the\nmotion, identical in language in both cases save the few final words about\nfinancial provision in the resolution of the Commons:--\n\n\n That an humble Address be presented to her Majesty praying that\n her Majesty will be graciously pleased to give directions that the\n remains of the Right Hon. William Ewart Gladstone be interred at\n the public charge, and that a monument be erected in the\n Collegiate Church of St. Peter, Westminster, with an inscription\n expressive of the public admiration and attachment and of the high\n sense entertained of his rare and splendid gifts, and of his\n devoted labours to parliament and in great offices of state, and\n to assure her Majesty that this House will make good the expenses\n attending the same.\n\n\nThe language of the movers was worthy of the British parliament at its\nbest, worthy of the station of those who (M188) used it, and worthy of the\nfigure commemorated. Lord Salisbury was thought by most to go nearest to\nthe core of the solemnity:--\n\n\n What is the cause of this unanimous feeling? Of course, he had\n qualities that distinguished him from all other men; and you may\n say that it was his transcendent intellect, his astonishing power\n of attaching men to him, and the great influence he was able to\n exert upon the thought and convictions of his contemporaries. But\n these things, which explain the attachment, the adoration of those\n whose ideas he represented, would not explain why it is that\n sentiments almost as fervent are felt and expressed by those whose\n ideas were not carried out by his policy. My Lords, I do not think\n the reason is to be found in anything so far removed from the\n common feelings of mankind as the abstruse and controversial\n questions of the policy of the day. They had nothing to do with\n it. Whether he was right, or whether he was wrong, in all the\n measures, or in most of the measures which he proposed--those are\n matters of which the discussion has passed by, and would certainly\n be singularly inappropriate here; they are really remitted to the\n judgment of future generations, who will securely judge from\n experience what we can only decide by forecast. It was on account\n of considerations more common to the masses of human beings, to\n the general working of the human mind, than any controversial\n questions of policy that men recognised in him a man\n guided--whether under mistaken impressions or not, it matters\n not--but guided in all the steps he took, in all the efforts that\n he made, by a high moral ideal. What he sought were the\n attainments of great ideals, and, whether they were based on sound\n convictions or not, they could have issued from nothing but the\n greatest and the purest moral aspirations; and he is honoured by\n his countrymen, because through so many years, across so many\n vicissitudes and conflicts, they had recognised this one\n characteristic of his action, which has never ceased to be felt.\n He will leave behind him, especially to those who have followed\n with deep interest the history of the later years--I might almost\n say the later months of his life--he will leave behind him the\n memory of a great Christian statesman. Set up necessarily on\n high--the sight of his character, his motives, and his intentions\n would strike all the world. They will have left a deep and most\n salutary influence on the political thought and the social thought\n of the generation in which he lived, and he will be long\n remembered not so much for the causes in which he was engaged or\n the political projects which he favoured, but as a great example,\n to which history hardly furnishes a parallel, of a great Christian\n man.\n\n\nMr. Balfour, the leader in the Commons, specially spoke of him as \"the\ngreatest member of the greatest deliberative assembly that the world has\nseen,\" and most aptly pointed to Mr. Gladstone's special service in\nrespect of that assembly.\n\n\n One service he did, in my opinion incalculable, which is\n altogether apart from the judgment that we may be disposed to pass\n upon particular opinions, or particular lines of policy which Mr.\n Gladstone may from time to time have advocated. Sir, he added a\n dignity, as he added a weight, to the deliberations of this House\n by his genius, which I think it is impossible adequately to\n replace. It is not enough for us to keep up simply a level, though\n it be a high level, of probity and of patriotism. The mere average\n of civic virtue is not sufficient to preserve this Assembly from\n the fate that has overcome so many other Assemblies, products of\n democratic forces. More than this is required; more than this was\n given to us by Mr. Gladstone. He brought to our debates a genius\n which compelled attention, he raised in the public estimation the\n whole level of our proceedings, and they will be most ready to\n admit the infinite value of his service who realise how much of\n public prosperity is involved in the maintenance of the worth of\n public life, and how perilously difficult most democracies\n apparently feel it to be to avoid the opposite dangers into which\n so many of them have fallen.\n\n\nSir William Harcourt spoke of him as friend and official colleague:--\n\n\n I have heard men who knew him not at all, who have asserted that\n the supremacy of his genius and the weight of his authority\n oppressed and overbore those who lived with him and those who\n worked under him. Nothing could be more untrue. Of all chiefs he\n was the least exacting. He was the most kind, the most tolerant,\n he was the most placable. How seldom in this House was the voice\n of personal anger heard from his lips. These are the true marks of\n greatness.\n\n\nLord Rosebery described his gifts and powers, his concentration, the\nmultiplicity of his interests, his labour of every day, and almost of\nevery hour of every day, in fashioning an intellect that was mighty by\nnature. And besides this panegyric on the departed warrior, he touched\nwith felicity and sincerity a note of true feeling in recalling to his\nhearers\n\n\n the solitary and pathetic figure, who for sixty years, shared all\n the sorrows and all the joys of Mr. Gladstone's life, who received\n his confidence and every aspiration, who shared his triumphs with\n him and cheered him under his defeats; who by her tender\n vigilance, I firmly believe, sustained and prolonged his years.\n\n\nWhen the memorial speeches were over the House of Commons adjourned. The\nQueen, when the day of the funeral came, telegraphed to Mrs. Gladstone\nfrom Balmoral:--\n\n\n My thoughts are much with you to-day, when your dear husband is\n laid to rest. To-day's ceremony will be most trying and painful\n for you, but it will be at the same time gratifying to you to see\n the respect and regret evinced by the nation for the memory of one\n whose character and intellectual abilities marked him as one of\n the most distinguished statesmen of my reign. I shall ever\n gratefully remember his devotion and zeal in all that concerned my\n personal welfare and that of my family.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nIt was not at Westminster only that his praise went forth. Famous men, in\nthe immortal words of Pericles to his Athenians, have the whole world for\ntheir tomb; they are commemorated not only by columns and inscriptions in\ntheir own land; in foreign lands too a memorial of them is graven in the\nhearts of men. So it was here. No other statesman on our famous roll has\ntouched the imagination of so wide a world.\n\nThe colonies through their officers or more directly, sent to Mrs.\nGladstone their expression of trust that the worldwide admiration and\nesteem of her honoured and illustrious husband would help her to sustain\nher burden of sorrow. The ambassador of the United States reverently\ncongratulated her and the English race everywhere, upon the glorious\ncompletion of a life filled with splendid achievements and consecrated to\nthe noblest purposes. The President followed in the same vein, and in\nCongress words were found to celebrate a splendid life and character. The\nPresident of the French republic wished to be among the first to associate\nhimself with Mrs. Gladstone's grief: \"By the high liberality of his\ncharacter,\" he said, \"and by the nobility of his political ideal, Mr.\nGladstone had worthily served his country and humanity.\" The entire French\ngovernment requested the British ambassador in Paris to convey the\nexpression of their sympathy and assurance of their appreciation,\nadmiration, and respect for the character of the illustrious departed. The\nCzar of Russia telegraphed to Mrs. Gladstone: \"I have just received the\npainful news of Mr. Gladstone's decease, and consider it my duty to\nexpress to you my feelings of sincere sympathy on the occasion of the\ncruel and irreparable bereavement which has befallen you, as well as the\ndeep regret which this sad event has given me. The whole of the civilised\nworld will beweep the loss of a great statesman, whose political views\nwere so widely humane and peaceable.\"\n\nIn Italy the sensation was said to be as great as when Victor Emmanuel or\nGaribaldi died. The Italian parliament and the prime minister telegraphed\nto the effect that \"the cruel loss which had just struck England, was a\ngrief sincerely shared by all who are devoted to liberty. Italy has not\nforgotten, and will never forget, the interest and sympathy of Mr.\nGladstone in events that led to its independence.\" In the same key,\nGreece: the King, the first minister, the university, the chamber,\ndeclared that he was entitled to the gratitude of the Greek people, and\nhis name would be by them for ever venerated. From Roumania, Macedonia,\nNorway, Denmark, tributes came \"to the great memory of Gladstone, one of\nthe glories of mankind.\" Never has so wide and honourable a pomp all over\nthe globe followed an English statesman to the grave.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOn May 25, the remains were brought from Hawarden, and in the middle of\nthe night the sealed coffin was placed in Westminster Hall, watched until\nthe funeral by the piety of relays of friends. For long hours each day\ngreat multitudes filed past the bier. It was a striking demonstration of\nnational feeling, for the procession contained every rank, and contingents\ncame from every part of the kingdom. On Saturday, May 28, the body was\ncommitted to the grave in Westminster Abbey. No sign of high honour was\nabsent. The heir to the throne and his son were among those who bore the\npall. So were the prime minister and the two leaders of the parties in\nboth Houses. The other pall-bearers were Lord Rosebery who had succeeded\nhim as prime minister, the Duke of Rutland who had half a century before\nbeen Mr. Gladstone's colleague at Newark, and Mr. Armitstead and Lord\nRendel, who were his private friends. Foreign sovereigns sent their\nrepresentatives, the Speaker of the House of Commons was there in state,\nand those were there who had done stout battle against him for long years;\nthose also who had sat with him in council and stood by his side in\nfrowning hours. At the head of the grave was \"the solitary and pathetic\nfigure\" of his wife. Even men most averse to all pomps and shows on the\noccasions and scenes that declare so audibly their nothingness, here were\nonly conscious of a deep and moving simplicity, befitting a great citizen\nnow laid among the kings and heroes. Two years later, the tomb was opened\nto receive the faithful and devoted companion of his life.\n\n\n\n\nChapter X. Final.\n\n\nAnybody can see the host of general and speculative questions raised by a\ncareer so extraordinary. How would his fame have stood if his political\nlife had ended in 1854, or 1874, or 1881, or 1885? What light does it shed\nupon the working of the parliamentary system; on the weakness and strength\nof popular government; on the good and bad of political party; on the\nsuperiority of rule by cabinet or by an elected president; on the\nrelations of opinion to law? Here is material for a volume of\ndisquisition, and nobody can ever discuss such speculations without\nreference to power as it was exercised by Mr. Gladstone. Those thronged\nhalls, those vast progresses, those strenuous orations--what did they\namount to? Did they mean a real moulding of opinion, an actual impression,\nwhether by argument or temper or personality or all three, on the minds of\nhearers? Or was it no more than the same kind of interest that takes men\nto stage-plays with a favourite performer? This could hardly be, for his\nhearers gave him long spells of power and a practical authority that was\nunique and supreme. What thoughts does his career suggest on the relations\nof Christianity to patriotism, or to empire, or to what has been called\nneo-paganism? How many points arise as to the dependence of ethics on\ndogma? These are deep and living and perhaps burning issues, not to be\ndiscussed at the end of what the reader may well have found a long\njourney. They offer themselves for his independent consideration.\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nMr. Gladstone's own summary of the period in which he (M189) had been so\nconspicuous a figure was this, when for him the drama was at an end:--\n\n\n Of his own career, he says, it is a career certainly chargeable\n with many errors of judgment, but I hope on the whole, governed at\n least by uprightness of intention and by a desire to learn. The\n personal aspect may now readily be dismissed as it concerns the\n past. But the public aspect of the period which closes for me with\n the fourteen years (so I love to reckon them) of my formal\n connection with Midlothian is too important to pass without a\n word. I consider it as beginning with the Reform Act of Lord\n Grey's government. That great Act was for England improvement and\n extension, for Scotland it was political birth, the beginning of a\n duty and a power, neither of which had attached to the Scottish\n nation in the preceding period. I rejoice to think how the\n solemnity of that duty has been recognised, and how that power has\n been used. The three-score years offer us the pictures of what the\n historian will recognise as a great legislative and administrative\n period--perhaps, on the whole, the greatest in our annals. It has\n been predominantly a history of emancipation--that is of enabling\n man to do his work of emancipation, political, economical, social,\n moral, intellectual. Not numerous merely, but almost numberless,\n have been the causes brought to issue, and in every one of them I\n rejoice to think that, so far as my knowledge goes, Scotland has\n done battle for the right.\n\n Another period has opened and is opening still--a period possibly\n of yet greater moral dangers, certainly a great ordeal for those\n classes which are now becoming largely conscious of power, and\n never heretofore subject to its deteriorating influences. These\n have been confined in their actions to the classes above them,\n because they were its sole possessors. Now is the time for the\n true friend of his country to remind the masses that their present\n political elevation is owing to no principles less broad and noble\n than these--the love of liberty, of liberty for all without\n distinction of class, creed or country, and the resolute\n preference of the interests of the whole to any interest, be it\n what it may, of a narrower scope.(315)\n\n\nA year later, in bidding farewell to his constituents \"with sentiments of\ngratitude and attachment that can never be effaced,\" he proceeds:--\n\n\n Though in regard to public affairs many things are disputable,\n there are some which belong to history and which have passed out\n of the region of contention. It is, for example as I conceive,\n beyond question that the century now expiring has exhibited since\n the close of its first quarter a period of unexampled activity\n both in legislative and administrative changes; that these\n changes, taken in the mass, have been in the direction of true and\n most beneficial progress; that both the conditions and the\n franchises of the people have made in relation to the former state\n of things, an extraordinary advance; that of these reforms an\n overwhelming proportion have been effected by direct action of the\n liberal party, or of statesmen such as Peel and Canning, ready to\n meet odium or to forfeit power for the public good; and that in\n every one of the fifteen parliaments the people of Scotland have\n decisively expressed their convictions in favour of this wise,\n temperate, and in every way remarkable policy.(316)\n\n\nTo charge him with habitually rousing popular forces into dangerous\nexcitement, is to ignore or misread his action in some of the most\ncritical of his movements. \"Here is a man,\" said Huxley, \"with the\ngreatest intellect in Europe, and yet he debases it by simply following\nmajorities and the crowd.\" He was called a mere mirror of the passing\nhumours and intellectual confusions of the popular mind. He had nothing,\nsaid his detractors, but a sort of clever pilot's eye for winds and\ncurrents, and the rising of the tide to the exact height that would float\nhim and his cargo over the bar. All this is the exact opposite of the\ntruth. What he thought was that the statesman's gift consisted in insight\ninto the facts of a particular era, disclosing the existence of material\nfor forming public opinion and directing public opinion to a given\npurpose. In every one of his achievements of high mark--even in his last\nmarked failure of achievement--he expressly formed, or endeavoured to form\nand create, the public opinion upon which he knew that in the last resort\nhe must depend.\n\n(M190) We have seen the triumph of 1853.(317) Did he, in renewing the most\nhated of taxes, run about anxiously feeling the pulse of public opinion?\nOn the contrary, he grappled with the facts with infinite labour--and half\nhis genius was labour--he built up a great plan; he carried it to the\ncabinet; they warned him that the House of Commons would be against him;\nthe officials of the treasury told him the Bank would be against him; that\na strong press of commercial interests would be against him. Like the bold\nand sinewy athlete that he always was, he stood to his plan; he carried\nthe cabinet; he persuaded the House of Commons; he vanquished the Bank and\nthe hostile interests; and in the words of Sir Stafford Northcote, he\nchanged and turned for many years to come, a current of public opinion\nthat seemed far too powerful for any minister to resist. In the\ntempestuous discussions during the seventies on the policy of this country\nin respect of the Christian races of the Balkan Peninsula, he with his own\nvoice created, moulded, inspired, and kindled with resistless flame the\nwhole of the public opinion that eventually guided the policy of the\nnation with such admirable effect both for its own fame, and for the good\nof the world. Take again the Land Act of 1881, in some ways the most\ndeep-reaching of all his legislative achievements. Here he had no flowing\ntide, every current was against him. He carried his scheme against the\nignorance of the country, against the prejudice of the country, and\nagainst the standing prejudices of both branches of the legislature, who\nwere steeped from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot in the\nstrictest doctrines of contract.\n\nThen his passion for economy, his ceaseless war against public profusion,\nhis insistence upon rigorous keeping of the national accounts--in this\ngreat department of affairs he led and did not follow. In no sphere of his\nactivities was he more strenuous, and in no sphere, as he must well have\nknown, was he less likely to win popularity. For democracy is spendthrift;\nif, to be sure, we may not say that most forms of government are apt to be\nthe same.\n\nIn a survey of Mr. Gladstone's performances, some would place this of\nwhich I have last spoken, as foremost among his services to the country.\nOthers would call him greatest in the associated service of a skilful\nhandling and adjustment of the burden of taxation; or the strengthening of\nthe foundations of national prosperity and well-being by his reformation\nof the tariff. Yet others again choose to remember him for his share in\nguiding the successive extensions of popular power, and simplifying and\npurifying electoral machinery. Irishmen at least, and others so far as\nthey are able to comprehend the history and vile wrongs and sharp needs of\nIreland, will have no doubt what rank in legislation they will assign to\nthe establishment of religious equality and agrarian justice in that\nportion of the realm. Not a few will count first the vigour with which he\nrepaired what had been an erroneous judgment of his own and of vast hosts\nof his countrymen, by his courage in carrying through the submission of\nthe Alabama claims to arbitration. Still more, looking from west to east,\nin this comparison among his achievements, will judge alike in its result\nand in the effort that produced it, nothing equal to the valour and\ninsight with which he burst the chains of a mischievous and degrading\npolicy as to the Ottoman empire. When we look at this exploit, how in face\nof an opponent of genius and authority and a tenacity not inferior to his\nown, in face of strongly rooted tradition on behalf of the Turk, and an\neasily roused antipathy against the Russian, by his own energy and\nstrength of arm he wrested the rudder from the hand of the helmsman and\nput about the course of the ship, and held England back from the enormity\nof trying to keep several millions of men and women under the yoke of\nbarbaric oppression and misrule,--we may say that this great feat alone was\nfame enough for one statesman. Let us make what choice we will of this or\nthat particular achievement, how splendid a list it is of benefits\nconferred and public work effectually performed. Was he a good\nparliamentary tactician, they ask? Was his eye sure, his hand firm, his\nmeasurement of forces, distances, and possibilities of change in wind and\ntide accurate? Did he usually hit the proper moment for a magisterial\nintervention? Experts did not (M191) always agree on his quality as\ntactician. At least he was pilot enough to bring many valuable cargoes\nsafely home.\n\nHe was one of the three statesmen in the House of Commons of his own\ngeneration who had the gift of large and spacious conception of the place\nand power of England in the world, and of the policies by which she could\nmaintain it. Cobden and Disraeli were the other two. Wide as the poles\nasunder in genius, in character, and in the mark they made upon the\nnation, yet each of these three was capable of wide surveys from high\neminence. But Mr. Gladstone's performances in the sphere of active\ngovernment were beyond comparison.\n\nAgain he was often harshly judged by that tenacious class who insist that\nif a general principle be sound, there can never be a reason why it should\nnot be applied forthwith, and that a rule subject to exceptions is not\nworth calling a rule; and the worst of it is that these people are mostly\nthe salt of the earth. In their impatient moments they dismissed him as an\nopportunist, but whenever there was a chance of getting anything done,\nthey mostly found that he was the only man with courage and resolution\nenough to attempt to do it. In thinking about him we have constantly to\nremember, as Sir George Lewis said, that government is a very rough affair\nat best, a huge rough machine, not the delicate springs, wheels, and\nbalances of a chronometer, and those concerned in working it have to be\nsatisfied with what is far below the best. \"Men have no business to talk\nof disenchantment,\" Mr. Gladstone said; \"ideals are never realised.\" That\nis no reason, he meant, why men should not persist and toil and hope, and\nthis is plainly the true temper for the politician. Yet he did not feed\nupon illusions. \"The history of nations,\" he wrote in 1876, \"is a\nmelancholy chapter; that is, the history of governments is one of the most\nimmoral parts of human history.\"\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nIt might well be said that Mr. Gladstone took too little, rather than too\nmuch trouble to be popular. His religious conservatism puzzled and\nirritated those who admired and shared his political liberalism, just as\nchurchmen watched with uneasiness and suspicion his radical alliances.\nNeither those who were churchmen first, nor those whose interests were\nkeenest in politics, could comprehend the union of what seemed\nincompatibles, and because they could not comprehend they sometimes in\ntheir shallower humours doubted his sincerity. Mr. Gladstone was never,\nafter say 1850, really afraid of disestablishment; on the contrary he was\nmuch more afraid of the perils of establishment for the integrity of the\nfaith. Yet political disestablishers often doubted him, because they had\nnot logic enough to see that a man may be a fervent believer in anglican\ninstitutions and what he thinks catholic tradition, and yet be as ready as\nCavour for the principle of free church in free state.\n\nIt is curious that some of the things that made men suspicious, were in\nfact the liveliest tokens of his sincerity and simplicity. With all his\npower of political imagination, yet his mind was an intensely literal\nmind. He did not look at an act or a decision from the point of view at\nwhich it might be regarded by other people. Ewelme, the mission to the\nIonian Islands, the royal warrant, the affair of the judicial committee,\nvaticanism, and all the other things that gave offence, and stirred\nmisgivings even in friends, showed that the very last question he ever\nasked himself was how his action would look; what construction might be\nput upon it, or even would pretty certainly be put upon it; whom it would\nencourage, whom it would estrange, whom it would perplex. Is the given end\nright, he seemed to ask; what are the surest means; are the means as right\nas the end, as right as they are sure? But right--on strict and literal\nconstruction. What he sometimes forgot was that in political action,\nconstruction is part of the act, nay, may even be its most important\npart.(318)\n\nThe more you make of his errors, the more is the need to explain his vast\nrenown, the long reign of his authority, the substance and reality of his\npowers. We call men great for many reasons apart from service wrought or\neminence of intellect or even from force and depth of character. To (M192)\nhave taken a leading part in transactions of decisive moment; to have\nproved himself able to meet demands on which high issues hung; to combine\nintellectual qualities, though moderate yet adequate and sufficient, with\nthe moral qualities needed for the given circumstance--with daring,\ncircumspection, energy, intrepid initiative; to have fallen in with one of\nthose occasions in the world that impart their own greatness even to a\nmediocre actor, and surround his name with a halo not radiating from\nwithin but shed upon him from without--in all these and many other ways men\ncome to be counted great. Mr. Gladstone belongs to the rarer class who\nacquired authority and fame by transcendent qualities of genius within, in\nhalf independence of any occasions beyond those they create for\nthemselves.\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nOf his attitude in respect of church parties, it is not for me to speak.\nHe has himself described at least one aspect of it in a letter to an\ninquirer, which would be a very noble piece by whomsoever written, and in\nthe name of whatsoever creed or no-creed, whether Christian or Rationalist\nor Nathan the Wise Jew's creed. It was addressed to a clergyman who seems\nto have asked of what section Mr. Gladstone considered himself an\nadherent:--\n\n\n _Feb. 4, 1865._--It is impossible to misinterpret either the\n intention or the terms of your letter; and I thank you for it\n sincerely. But I cannot answer the question which you put to me,\n and I think I can even satisfy you that with my convictions I\n should do wrong in replying to it in any manner. Whatever reason I\n may have for being painfully and daily conscious of every kind of\n unworthiness, yet I am sufficiently aware of the dignity of\n religious belief to have been throughout a political life, now in\n its thirty-third year, steadily resolved never by my own voluntary\n act to make it the subject of any compact or assurance with a view\n to a political object. You think (and pray do not suppose I make\n this matter of complaint) that I have been associated with one\n party in the church of England, and that I may now lean rather\n towards another.... There is no one about whom information can be\n more easily had than myself. I have had and have friends of many\n colours, churchmen high and low, presbyterians, Greeks, Roman\n catholics, dissenters, who can speak abundantly, though perhaps\n not very well of me. And further, as member for the university, I\n have honestly endeavoured at all times to put my constituents in\n possession of all I could convey to them that could be considered\n as in the nature of a fact, by answering as explicitly as I was\n able all questions relating to the matters, and they are numerous\n enough, on which I have had to act or speak. Perhaps I shall\n surprise you by what I have yet further to say. I have never by\n any conscious act yielded my allegiance to any person or party in\n matters of religion. You and others may have called me (without\n the least offence) a churchman of some particular kind, and I have\n more than once seen announced in print my own secession from the\n church of England. These things I have not commonly contradicted,\n for the atmosphere of religious controversy and contradiction is\n as odious as the atmosphere of mental freedom is precious, to me;\n and I have feared to lose the one and be drawn into the other, by\n heat and bitterness creeping into the mind. If another chooses to\n call himself, or to call me, a member of this or that party, I am\n not to complain. But I respectfully claim the right not to call\n myself so, and on this claim, I have I believe acted throughout my\n life, without a single exception; and I feel that were I to waive\n it, I should at once put in hazard that allegiance to Truth, which\n is at once the supreme duty and the supreme joy of life. I have\n only to add the expression of my hope that in what I have said\n there is nothing to hurt or to offend you; and, if there be, very\n heartily to wish it unsaid.\n\n\nYet there was never the shadow of mistake about his own fervent faith. As\nhe said to another correspondent:--\n\n\n _Feb. 5, 1876._--I am in principle a strong denominationalist. \"One\n fold and one shepherd\" was the note of early Christendom. The\n shepherd is still one and knows his sheep; but the folds are many;\n and, without condemning any others, I am of opinion that it is\n best for us all that we should all of us be jealous for the honour\n of whatever we have and hold as positive truth, appertaining to\n the Divine Word and the foundation and history of the Christian\n community. I admit that this question becomes one of circumstance\n and degree, but I take it as I find it defined for myself by and\n in my own position.\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nOf Mr. Gladstone as orator and improvisatore, enough has been said and\nseen. Besides being orator and statesman he was scholar and critic.\nPerhaps scholar in his interests, not in abiding contribution. The most\ncopious of his productions in this delightful but arduous field was the\nthree large volumes on _Homer and the Homeric Age_, given to the world in\n1858. Into what has been well called the whirlpool of Homeric\ncontroversies, the reader shall not here be dragged. Mr. Gladstone himself\ngave them the go-by, with an indifference and disdain such as might have\nbeen well enough in the economic field if exhibited towards a\nprotectionist farmer, or a partisan of retaliatory duties on manufactured\ngoods, but that were hardly to the point in dealing with profound and\noriginal critics. What he too contemptuously dismissed as Homeric\n\"bubble-schemes,\" were in truth centres of scientific illumination. At the\nend of the eighteenth century Wolf's famous _Prolegomena_ appeared, in\nwhich he advanced the theory that Homer was no single poet, nor a name for\ntwo poets, nor an individual at all; the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ were\ncollections of independent lays, folk-lore and folk-songs connected by a\ncommon set of themes, and edited, redacted, or compacted about the middle\nof the sixth century before Christ. A learned man of our own day has said\nthat F. A. Wolf ought to be counted one of the half dozen writers that\nwithin the last three centuries have most influenced thought. This would\nbring Wolf into line with Descartes, Newton, Locke, Kant, Rousseau, or\nwhatever other five master-spirits of thought from then to now the\njudicious reader may select. The present writer has assuredly no\ncompetence to assign Wolf's place in the history of modern criticism, but\nstraying aside for a season from the green pastures of Hansard, and\nturning over again the slim volume of a hundred and fifty pages in which\nWolf discusses his theme, one may easily discern a fountain of broad\nstreams of modern thought (apart from the particular thesis) that to Mr.\nGladstone, by the force of all his education and his deepest\nprepossessions, were in the highest degree chimerical and dangerous.\n\nHe once wrote to Lord Acton (1889) about the Old Testament and Mosaic\nlegislation:--\n\n\n Now I think that the most important parts of the argument have in\n a great degree a solid standing ground apart from the destructive\n criticism on dates and on the text: and I am sufficiently aware of\n my own rawness and ignorance in the matter not to allow myself to\n judge definitely, or condemn. I feel also that I have a\n prepossession derived from the criticisms in the case of Homer. Of\n them I have a very bad opinion, not only in themselves, but as to\n the levity, precipitancy, and shallowness of mind which they\n display; and here I do venture to speak, because I believe myself\n to have done a great deal more than any of the destructives in the\n examination of the text, which is the true source of the materials\n of judgment. They are a soulless lot; but there was a time when\n they had possession of the public ear as much I suppose as the Old\n Testament destructives now have, within their own precinct. It is\n only the constructive part of their work on which I feel tempted\n to judge; and I must own that it seems to me sadly wanting in the\n elements of rational probability.\n\n\nThis unpromising method is sufficiently set out when he says: \"I find in\nthe plot of the _Iliad_ enough of beauty, order, and structure, not merely\nto sustain the supposition of its own unity, but to bear an independent\ntestimony, should it be still needed, to the existence of a personal and\nindividual Homer as its author.\"(319) From such a method no permanent\ncontribution could come.\n\nYet scholars allow that Mr. Gladstone in these three volumes, as well as\nin _Juventus Mundi_ and his _Homeric Primer_, has added not a little to\nour scientific knowledge of the Homeric poems,(320) by his extraordinary\nmastery of the text, the result of unwearied and prolonged industry, aided\n(M193) by a memory both tenacious and ready. Taking his own point of view,\nmoreover, anybody who wishes to have his feeling about the _Iliad_ and\n_Odyssey_ as delightful poetry refreshed and quickened, will find\ninspiring elements in the profusion, the eager array of Homer's own lines,\nthe diligent exploration of aspects and bearings hitherto unthought of.\nThe \"theo-mythology\" is commonly judged fantastic, and has been compared\nby sage critics to Warburton's _Divine Legation_--the same comprehensive\ngeneral reading, the same heroic industry in marshalling the particulars\nof proof, the same dialectical strength of arm, and all brought to prove\nan unsound proposition.(321) Yet the comprehensive reading and the\nparticulars of proof are by no means without an interest of their own,\nwhatever we may think of the proposition; and here, as in all his literary\nwriting distinguished from polemics, he abounds in the ethical elements.\nHere perhaps more than anywhere else he impresses us by his love of beauty\nin all its aspects and relations, in the human form, in landscape, in the\naffections, in animals, including above all else that sense of beauty\nwhich made his Greeks take it as one of the names for nobility in conduct.\nConington, one of the finest of scholars, then lecturing at Oxford on\nLatin poets and deep in his own Virgilian studies, which afterwards bore\nsuch admirable fruit, writes at length (Feb. 14, 1857) to say how grateful\nhe is to Mr. Gladstone for the care with which he has pursued into details\na view of Virgil that they hold substantially in common, and proceeds with\ncare and point to analyse the quality of the Roman poet's art, as some\nyears later he defended against Munro the questionable proposition of the\nsuperiority in poetic style of the graceful, melodious, and pathetic\nVirgil to Lucretius's mighty muse.\n\nNo field has been more industriously worked for the last forty years than\nthis of the relations of paganism to the historic religion that followed\nit in Europe. The knowledge and the speculations into which Mr. Gladstone\nwas thus initiated in the sixties may now seem crude enough; but he\ndeserves some credit in English, though not in view of German, speculation\nfor an early perception of an unfamiliar region of comparative science,\nwhence many a product most unwelcome to him and alien to his own beliefs\nhas been since extracted. When all is said, however, Mr. Gladstone's place\nis not in literary or critical history, but elsewhere.\n\nHis style is sometimes called Johnsonian, but surely without good ground.\nJohnson was not involved and he was clear, and neither of these things can\nalways be said of Mr. Gladstone. Some critic charged him in 1840 with\n\"prolix clearness.\" The old charge, says Mr. Gladstone upon this, was\n\"obscure compression. I do not doubt that both may be true, and the former\nmay have been the result of a well-meant effort to escape from the\nlatter.\" He was fond of abstract words, or the nearer to abstract the\nbetter, and the more general the better. One effect of this was\nundoubtedly to give an indirect, almost a shifty, air that exasperated\nplain people. Why does he beat about the bush, they asked; why cannot he\nsay what he means? A reader might have to think twice or thrice or twenty\ntimes before he could be sure that he interpreted correctly. But then\npeople are so apt to think once, or half of once; to take the meaning that\nsuits their own wish or purpose best, and then to treat that as the only\nmeaning. Hence their perplexity and wrath when they found that other doors\nwere open, and they thought a mistake due to their own hurry was the\nresult of a juggler's trick. On the other hand a good writer takes all the\npains he can to keep his reader out of such scrapes.\n\nHis critical essays on Tennyson and Macaulay are excellent. They are\nacute, discriminating, generous. His estimate of Macaulay, apart from a\npiece of polemical church history at the end, is perhaps the best we have.\n\"You make a very just remark,\" said Acton to him, \"that Macaulay was\nafraid of contradicting his former self, and remembered all he had written\nsince 1825. At that time his mind was formed, and so it remained. What\nliterary influences acted on the formation of his political opinions, what\nwere his religious sympathies, and what is his exact place among\nhistorians, you have rather avoided discussing. There is still something\nto say on these points.\" To Tennyson Mr. Gladstone believed himself to\nhave been unjust, especially in the passages of _Maud_ devoted to the\nwar-frenzy, and when he came to reprint the article he admitted that he\nhad not sufficiently remembered that he was dealing with a dramatic and\nimaginative composition.(322) As he frankly said of himself, he was not\nstrong in the faculties of the artist, but perhaps Tennyson himself in\nthese passages was prompted much more by politics than by art. Of this\npiece of retractation the poet truly said, \"Nobody but a noble-minded man\nwould have done that.\"(323) Mr. Gladstone would most likely have chosen to\ncall his words a qualification rather than a recantation. In either case,\nit does not affect passages that give the finest expression to one of the\nvery deepest convictions of his life,--that war, whatever else we may\nchoose to say of it, is no antidote for Mammon-worship and can never be a\ncure for moral evils:--\n\n\n It is, indeed, true that peace has its moral perils and\n temptations for degenerate man, as has every other blessing,\n without exception, that he can receive from the hand of God. It is\n moreover not less true that, amidst the clash of arms, the noblest\n forms of character may be reared, and the highest acts of duty\n done; that these great and precious results may be due to war as\n their cause; and that one high form of sentiment in particular,\n the love of country, receives a powerful and general stimulus from\n the bloody strife. But this is as the furious cruelty of Pharaoh\n made place for the benign virtue of his daughter; as the\n butchering sentence of Herod raised without doubt many a mother's\n love into heroic sublimity; as plague, as famine, as fire, as\n flood, as every curse and every scourge that is wielded by an\n angry Providence for the chastisement of man, is an appointed\n instrument for tempering human souls in the seven-times heated\n furnace of affliction, up to the standard of angelic and\n archangelic virtue.\n\n War, indeed, has the property of exciting much generous and noble\n feeling on a large scale; but with this special recommendation it\n has, in its modern forms especially, peculiar and unequalled\n evils. As it has a wider sweep of desolating power than the rest,\n so it has the peculiar quality that it is more susceptible of\n being decked in gaudy trappings, and of fascinating the\n imagination of those whose proud and angry passions it inflames.\n But it is, on this very account, a perilous delusion to teach that\n war is a cure for moral evil, in any other sense than as the\n sister tribulations are. The eulogies of the frantic hero in\n _Maud_, however, deviate into grosser folly. It is natural that\n such vagaries should overlook the fixed laws of Providence. Under\n these laws the mass of mankind is composed of men, women, and\n children who can but just ward off hunger, cold, and nakedness;\n whose whole ideas of Mammon-worship are comprised in the search\n for their daily food, clothing, shelter, fuel; whom any casualty\n reduces to positive want; and whose already low estate is yet\n further lowered and ground down, when \"the blood-red blossom of\n war flames with its heart of fire.\"...\n\n Still war had, in times now gone by, ennobling elements and\n tendencies of the less sordid kind. But one inevitable\n characteristic of modern war is, that it is associated throughout,\n in all particulars, with a vast and most irregular formation of\n commercial enterprise. There is no incentive to Mammon-worship so\n remarkable as that which it affords. The political economy of war\n is now one of its most commanding aspects. Every farthing, with\n the smallest exceptions conceivable, of the scores or hundreds of\n millions which a war may cost, goes directly, and very violently,\n to stimulate production, though it is intended ultimately for\n waste or for destruction. Even apart from the fact that war\n suspends, _ipso facto_, every rule of public thrift, and tends to\n sap honesty itself in the use of the public treasure for which it\n makes such unbounded calls, it therefore is the greatest feeder of\n that lust of gold which we are told is the essence of commerce,\n though we had hoped it was only its occasional besetting sin. It\n is, however, more than this; for the regular commerce of peace is\n tameness itself compared with the gambling spirit which war,\n through the rapid shiftings and high prices which it brings,\n always introduces into trade. In its moral operation it more\n resembles, perhaps the finding of a new gold-field, than anything\n else.\n\n\nMore remarkable than either of these two is his piece on Leopardi (1850),\nthe Italian poet, whose philosophy and (M194) frame of mind, said Mr.\nGladstone, \"present more than any other that we know, more even than that\nof Shelley, the character of unrelieved, unredeemed desolation--the very\nqualities in it which attract pitying sympathy, depriving it of all\nseductive power.\" It is curious that he should have selected one whose\nlife lay along a course like Leopardi's for commemoration, as a man who in\nalmost every branch of mental exertion seems to have had the capacity for\nattaining, and generally at a single bound, the very highest excellence.\n\"There are many things,\" he adds, \"in which Christians would do well to\nfollow him: in the warmth of his attachments; in the moderation of his\nwants; in his noble freedom from the love of money; in his all-conquering\nassiduity.\"(324) Perhaps the most remarkable sentence of all is this: \"...\nwhat is not needful, and is commonly wrong, namely, is to pass a judgment\non our fellow-creatures. Never let it be forgotten that there is scarcely\na single moral action of a single man of which other men can have such a\nknowledge, in its ultimate grounds, its surrounding incidents, and the\nreal determining causes of its merits, as to warrant their pronouncing a\nconclusive judgment upon it.\"\n\nThe translation of poetry into poetry, as Coleridge said, is difficult\nbecause the translator must give brilliancy without the warmth of original\nconception, from which such brilliancy would follow of its own accord. But\nwe must not judge Mr. Gladstone's translation either of Horace's odes or\nof detached pieces from Greek or Italian, as we should judge the professed\nman of letters or poet like Coleridge himself. His pieces are the\ndiversions of the man of affairs, with educated tastes and interest in\ngood literature. Perhaps the best single piece is his really noble\nrendering of Manzoni's noble ode on the death of Napoleon; for instance:--\n\n\n From Alp to farthest Pyramid,\n From Rhine to Mansanar,\n How sure his lightning's flash foretold\n His thunderbolts of war!\n To Don from Scilla's height they roar,\n From North to Southern shore.\n And this was glory? After-men,\n Judge the dark problem. Low\n We to the Mighty Maker bend\n The while, Who planned to show\n What vaster mould Creative Will\n With him could fill.\n\n -------------------------------------\n\n As on the shipwrecked mariner\n The weltering wave's descent--\n The wave, o'er which, a moment since,\n For distant shores he bent\n And bent in vain, his eager eye;\n So on that stricken head\n Came whelming down the mighty Past.\n How often did his pen\n Essay to tell the wondrous tale\n For after times and men,\n And o'er the lines that could not die\n His hand lay dead.\n\n How often, as the listless day\n In silence died away,\n He stood with lightning eye deprest,\n And arms across his breast,\n And bygone years, in rushing train,\n Smote on his soul amain:\n The breezy tents he seemed to see,\n And the battering cannon's course,\n And the flashing of the infantry,\n And the torrent of the horse,\n And, obeyed as soon as heard,\n Th' ecstatic word.\n\n\nAlways let us remember that his literary life was part of the rest of his\nlife, as literature ought to be. He was no mere reader of many books, used\nto relieve the strain of mental anxiety or to slake the thirst of literary\nor intellectual curiosity. Reading with him in the days of his full vigour\nwas a habitual communing with the master spirits of mankind, as a\nvivifying and nourishing part of life. As we have seen, he would not read\nDante in the session, nor unless he could have a large draught. Here as\nelsewhere in the ordering of his days he was methodical, systematic, full.\n\n\n\nV\n\n\n(M195) Though man of action, yet Mr. Gladstone too has a place by\ncharacter and influences among what we may call the abstract, moral,\nspiritual forces that stamped the realm of Britain in his age. In a new\ntime, marked in an incomparable degree by the progress of science and\ninvention, by vast mechanical, industrial, and commercial development, he\naccepted it all, he adjusted his statesmanship to it all, nay, he revelled\nin it all, as tending to ameliorate the lot of the \"mass of men, women,\nand children who can just ward off hunger, cold, and nakedness.\" He did\nnot rail at his age, he strove to help it. Following Walpole and Cobden\nand Peel in the policies of peace, he knew how to augment the material\nresources on which our people depend. When was Britain stronger, richer,\nmore honoured among the nations--I do not say always among the diplomatic\nchanceries and governments--than in the years when Mr. Gladstone was at the\nzenith of his authority among us? When were her armed forces by sea and\nland more adequate for defence of every interest? When was her material\nresource sounder? When was her moral credit higher? Besides all this, he\nupheld a golden lamp.\n\nThe unending revolutions of the world are for ever bringing old phases\nuppermost again. Events from season to season are taken to teach sinister\nlessons, that the Real is the only Rational, force is the test of right\nand wrong, the state has nothing to do with restraints of morals, the\nruler is emancipated. Speculations in physical science were distorted for\nalien purposes, and survival of the fittest was taken to give brutality a\nmore decent name. Even new conceptions and systems of history may be\ntwisted into release of statesmen from the conscience of Bishop Butler's\nplain man. This gospel it was Mr. Gladstone's felicity to hold at bay.\nWithout bringing back the cosmopolitanism of the eighteenth century,\nwithout sharing all the idealisms of the middle of the nineteenth, he\nresisted with his whole might the odious contention that moral progress in\nthe relations of nations and states to one another is an illusion and a\ndream.\n\nThis vein perhaps brings us too near to the regions of dissertation. Let\nus rather leave off with thoughts and memories of one who was a vivid\nexample of public duty and of private faithfulness; of a long career that\nwith every circumstance of splendour, amid all the mire and all the\npoisons of the world, lighted up in practice even for those who have none\nof his genius and none of his power his own precept, \"Be inspired with the\nbelief that life is a great and noble calling; not a mean and grovelling\nthing, that we are to shuffle through as we can, but an elevated and lofty\ndestiny.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\n\n\n\nIrish Local Government, 1883. (Page 103)\n\n\n _Mr. Gladstone to Lord Granville_\n\n _Cannes, Jan. 22, 1883._--Today I have been a good deal distressed\n by a passage as reported in Hartington's very strong and able\n speech, for which I am at a loss to account, so far does it travel\n out into the open, and so awkward are the intimations it seems to\n convey. I felt that I could not do otherwise than telegraph to you\n in cipher on the subject. But I used words intended to show that,\n while I thought an immediate notification needful, I was far from\n wishing to hasten the reply, and desired to leave altogether in\n your hands the mode of touching a delicate matter. Pray use the\n widest discretion.\n\n I console myself with thinking it is hardly possible that\n Hartington can have meant to say what nevertheless both _Times_\n and _Daily News_ make him seem to say, namely, that we recede\n from, or throw into abeyance, the declarations we have constantly\n made about our desire to extend local government, properly so\n called, to Ireland on the first opportunity which the state of\n business in parliament would permit. We announced our intention to\n do this at the very moment when we were preparing to suspend the\n Habeas Corpus Act. Since that time we have seen our position in\n Ireland immensely strengthened, and the leader of the agitation\n has even thought it wise, and has dared, to pursue a somewhat\n conciliatory course. Many of his coadjutors are still as vicious,\n it may be, as ever, but how can we say (for instance) to the\n Ulster men, you shall remain with shortened liberties and without\n local government, because Biggar & Co. are hostile to British\n connection?\n\n There has also come prominently into view a new and powerful set\n of motives which, in my deliberate judgment, require us, for the\n sake of the United Kingdom even more than for the sake of Ireland,\n to push forward this question. Under the present highly\n centralised system of government, every demand which can be\n started on behalf of a poor and ill-organised country, comes\n directly on the British government and treasury; if refused it\n becomes at once a head of grievance, if granted not only a new\n drain but a certain source of political complication and\n embarrassment. The peasant proprietary, the winter's distress, the\n state of the labourers, the loans to farmers, the promotion of\n public works, the encouragement of fisheries, the promotion of\n emigration, each and every one of these questions has a sting, and\n the sting can only be taken out of it by our treating it in\n correspondence with a popular and responsible Irish body,\n competent to act for its own portion of the country.\n\n Every consideration which prompted our pledges, prompts the\n recognition of them, and their extension, rather than curtailment.\n The Irish government have in preparation a Local Government bill.\n Such a bill may even be an economy of time. By no other means that\n I can see shall we be able to ward off most critical and\n questionable discussions on questions of the class I have\n mentioned. The argument that we cannot yet trust Irishmen with\n popular local institutions is the mischievous argument by which\n the conservative opposition to the Melbourne government resisted,\n and finally crippled, the reform of municipal corporations in\n Ireland. By acting on principles diametrically opposite, we have\n broken down to thirty-five or forty what would have been a party,\n in this parliament, of sixty-five home rulers, and have thus\n arrested (or at the very least postponed) the perilous crisis,\n which no man has as yet looked in the face; the crisis which will\n arise when a large and united majority of Irish members demand\n some fundamental change in the legislative relations of the two\n countries. I can ill convey to you how dear are my thoughts, or\n how earnest my convictions, on this important subject....\n\n\n\n\nGeneral Gordon's Instructions. (Page 153)\n\n\n_The following is the text of General Gordon's Instructions (Jan. 18,\n1884)_:--\n\n\n Her Majesty's government are desirous that you should proceed at\n once to Egypt, to report to them on the military situation in the\n Soudan, and on the measures it may be advisable to take for the\n security of the Egyptian garrisons still holding positions in that\n country, and for the safety of the European population in\n Khartoum. You are also desired to consider and report upon the\n best mode of effecting the evacuation of the interior of the\n Soudan, and upon the manner in which the safety and good\n administration by the Egyptian government of the ports on the sea\n coast can best be secured. In connection with this subject you\n should pay especial consideration to the question of the steps\n that may usefully be taken to counteract the stimulus which it is\n feared may possibly be given to the slave trade by the present\n insurrectionary movement, and by the withdrawal of the Egyptian\n authority from the interior. You will be under the instructions of\n Her Majesty's agent and consul-general at Cairo, through whom your\n reports to Her Majesty's government should be sent under flying\n seal. You will consider yourself authorised and instructed to\n perform such other duties as the Egyptian government may desire to\n entrust to you, and as may be communicated to you by Sir E.\n Baring. You will be accompanied by Colonel Stewart, who will\n assist you in the duties thus confided to you. On your arrival in\n Egypt you will at once communicate with Sir E. Baring, who will\n arrange to meet you and will settle with you whether you should\n proceed direct to Suakin or should go yourself or despatch Colonel\n Stewart _via_ the Nile.\n\n\n\n\nThe Military Position In The Soudan, April 1885. (Page 179)\n\n\n_This Memorandum, dated April 9, 1885, was prepared by Mr. Gladstone for\nthe cabinet_:--\n\n\n The commencement of the hot season appears, with other\n circumstances, to mark the time for considering at large our\n position in the Soudan. Also a declaration of policy is now\n demanded from us in nearly all quarters.... When the betrayal of\n Khartoum had been announced, the desire and intention of the\n cabinet were to reserve for a later decision the question of an\n eventual advance upon that place, should no immediate movement on\n it be found possible. The objects they had immediately in view\n were to ascertain the fate of Gordon, to make every effort on his\n behalf, and to prevent the extension of the area of disturbance.\n\n But Lord Wolseley at once impressed upon the cabinet that he\n required, in order to determine his immediate military movements,\n to know whether they were to be based upon the plan of an eventual\n advance on Khartoum, or whether the intention of such an advance\n was to be abandoned altogether. If the first plan were adopted,\n Lord Wolseley declared his power and intention to take Berber, and\n even gave a possible date for it, in the middle of March. The\n cabinet, adopting the phrase which Lord Wolseley had used, decided\n upon the facts as they then stood before it: (_a_) Lord Wolseley\n was to calculate upon proceeding to Khartoum after the hot season,\n to overthrow the power of the Mahdi there; (_b_) and,\n consequently, on this decision, they were to commence the\n construction of a railway from Suakin to Berber, in aid of the\n contemplated expedition; (_c_) an expedition was also to be sent\n against Osman Digna, which would open the road to Berber; but Lord\n Wolseley's demand for this expedition applied alike to each of the\n two military alternatives which he had laid before the cabinet.\n\n There was no absolute decision to proceed to Khartoum at any time;\n and the declarations of ministers in parliament have treated it as\n a matter to be further weighed; but all steps have thus far been\n taken to prepare for it, and it has been regarded as at least\n probable. In approaching the question whether we are still to\n proceed on the same lines, it is necessary to refer to the motives\n which under the directions of the cabinet were stated by Lord\n Granville and by me, on the 19th of February, as having\n contributed to the decision, I copy out a part of the note from\n which he and I spoke:--\n\n Objects in the Soudan which we have always deemed fit for\n consideration as far as circumstances might allow:--\n\n 1. The case of those to whom Gordon held himself bound in honour.\n\n 2. The possibility of establishing an orderly government at\n Khartoum.\n\n 3. Check to the slave trade.\n\n 4. The case of the garrisons.\n\n A negative decision would probably have involved the abandonment\n at a stroke of all these objects. And also (we had to consider)\n whatever dangers, proximate or remote, in Egypt or in the East\n might follow from the triumphant position of the Mahdi; hard to\n estimate, but they may be very serious.\n\n Two months, which have passed since the decision of the government\n (Feb. 5), have thrown light, more or less, upon the several points\n brought into view on the 19th February. 1. We have now no\n sufficient reason to assume that any of the population of Khartoum\n felt themselves bound to Gordon, or to have suffered on his\n account; or even that any large numbers of men in arms perished in\n the betrayal of the town, or took his part after the enemy were\n admitted into it. 2. We have had no tidings of anarchy at\n Khartoum, and we do not know that it is governed worse, or that\n the population is suffering more, than it would be under a Turkish\n or Egyptian ruler. 3. It is not believed that the possession of\n Khartoum is of any great value as regards the slave trade. 4. Or,\n after the failure of Gordon with respect to the garrisons, that\n the possession of Khartoum would, without further and formidable\n extensions of plan, avail for the purpose of relieving them. But\n further, what knowledge have we that these garrisons are unable to\n relieve themselves? There seems some reason to believe that the\n army of Hicks, when the action ceased, fraternised with the\n Mahdi's army, and that the same thing happened at Khartoum. Is\n there ground to suppose that they are hateful unless as\n representatives of Egyptian power? and ought they not to be\n released from any obligation to present themselves in that\n capacity?\n\n With regard to the larger question of eventual consequences in\n Egypt or the East from the Mahdi's success at Khartoum, it is open\n to many views, and cannot be completely disposed of. But it may be\n observed--1. That the Mahdi made a trial of marching down the Nile\n and speedily abandoned it, even in the first flush of his success.\n 2. That cessation of operations in the Soudan does not at this\n moment mean our military inaction in the East. 3. That the\n question is one of conflict, not with the arms of an enemy, but\n with Nature in respect of climate and supply. 4. There remains\n also a grave question of justice, to which I shall revert.\n\n Should the idea of proceeding to Khartoum be abandoned, the\n railway from Suakin, as now projected, would fall with it, since\n it was adopted as a military measure, subsidiary to the advance on\n Khartoum. The prosecution of it as a civil or commercial\n enterprise would be a new proposal, to be examined on its merits.\n\n The military situation appears in some respects favourable to the\n re-examination of the whole subject. The general has found himself\n unable to execute his intention of taking Berber, and this failure\n alters the basis on which the cabinet proceeded in February, and\n greatly increases the difficulty of the autumn enterprise. On the\n one hand Wolseley's and Graham's forces have had five or six\n considerable actions, and have been uniformly victorious. On the\n other hand, the Mahdi has voluntarily retired from Khartoum, and\n Osman Digna has been driven from the field, but cannot, as Graham\n says, be followed into the mountains.(325) While the present\n situation may thus seem opportune, the future of more extended\n operations is dark. In at least one of his telegrams, Wolseley has\n expressed a very keen desire to get the British army out of the\n Soudan.(326) He has now made very large demands for the autumn\n expedition, which, judging from previous experience and from\n general likelihood, are almost certain to grow larger, as he comes\n more closely to confront the very formidable task before him;\n while in his letter to Lord Hartington he describes this affair to\n be _the greatest __\"__since 1815,__\"_ and expresses his hope that\n all the members of the cabinet clearly understand this to be the\n case. He also names a period of between two or three years for the\n completion of the railway, while he expresses an absolute\n confidence in the power and resources of this country with vast\n effort to insure success. He means without doubt military success.\n Political success appears much more problematical.\n\n There remains, however, to be considered a question which I take\n to be of extreme importance. I mean the moral basis of the\n projected military operations. I have from the first regarded the\n rising of the Soudanese against Egypt as a justifiable and\n honourable revolt. The cabinet have, I think, never taken an\n opposite view. Mr. Power, in his letter from Khartoum before\n Gordon's arrival, is decided and even fervent in the same sense.\n\n We sent Gordon on a mission of peace and liberation. From such\n information as alone we have possessed, we found this missionary\n of peace menaced and besieged, finally betrayed by some of his\n troops, and slaughtered by those whom he came to set free. This\n information, however, was fragmentary, and was also one-sided. We\n have now the advantage of reviewing it as a whole, of reading it\n in the light of events, and of some auxiliary evidence such as\n that of Mr. Power.\n\n I never understood how it was that Gordon's mission of peace\n became one of war. But we knew the nobleness of his philanthropy,\n and we trusted him to the uttermost, as it was our duty to do. He\n never informed us that he had himself changed the character of the\n mission. It seemed strange that one who bore in his hands a\n charter of liberation should be besieged and threatened; but we\n took everything for granted in his favour, and against his\n enemies; and we could hardly do otherwise. Our obligations in this\n respect were greatly enhanced by the long interruption of\n telegraphic communication. It was our duty to believe that, if we\n could only know what he was prevented from saying to us,\n contradictions would be reconciled, and language of excess\n accounted for. We now know from the letters of Mr. Power that when\n he was at Khartoum with Colonel de Coetlogon before Gordon's\n arrival, a retreat on Berber had been actually ordered; it was\n regarded no doubt as a serious work of time, because it involved\n the removal of an Egyptian population;(327) but it was deemed\n feasible, and Power expresses no doubt of its accomplishment.(328)\n As far as, amidst its inconsistencies, a construction can be put\n on Gordon's language, it is to the effect that there was a\n population and a force attached to him, which he could not remove\n and would not leave.(329) But De Coetlogon did not regard this\n removal as impracticable, and was actually setting about it. Why\n Gordon did not prosecute it, why we hear no more of it from Power\n after Gordon's arrival, is a mystery. Instructed by results we now\n perceive that Gordon's title as governor-general might naturally\n be interpreted by the tribes in the light of much of the language\n used by him, which did not savour of liberation and evacuation,\n but of powers of government over the Soudan; powers to be used\n benevolently, but still powers of government. Why the Mahdi did\n not accept him is not hard to understand, but why was he not\n accepted by those local sultans, whom it was the basis of his\n declared policy to re-invest with their ancient powers, in spite\n of Egypt and of the Mahdi alike? Was he not in short interpreted\n as associated with the work of Hicks, and did he not himself give\n probable colour to this interpretation? It must be borne in mind\n that on other matters of the gravest importance--on the use of\n Turkish force--on the use of British force--on the employment of\n Zobeir--Gordon announced within a very short time contradictory\n views, and never seemed to feel that there was any need of\n explanation, in order to account for the contradictions. There is\n every presumption, as well as every sign, that like fluctuation\n and inconsistency crept into his words and acts as to the\n liberation of the country; and this, if it was so, could not but\n produce ruinous effects. Upon the whole, it seems probable that\n Gordon, perhaps insensibly to himself, and certainly without our\n concurrence, altered the character of his mission, and worked in a\n considerable degree against our intentions and instructions.\n\n There does not appear to be any question now of the security of\n the army, but a most grave question whether we can demonstrate a\n necessity (nothing less will suffice) for making war on a people\n who are struggling against a foreign and armed yoke, not for the\n rescue of our own countrymen, not for the rescue _so far as we\n know_ of an Egyptian population, but with very heavy cost of\n British life as well as treasure, with a serious strain on our\n military resources at a most critical time, and with the most\n serious fear that if we persist, we shall find ourselves engaged\n in an odious work of subjugation. The discontinuance of these\n military operations would, I presume, take the form of a\n suspension _sine die,_ leaving the future open; would require\n attention to be paid to defence on the recognised southern\n frontier of Egypt, and need not involve any precipitate\n abandonment of Suakin.\n\n\n\n\nHome Rule Bill, 1886. (Page 308)\n\n\n(M196) _The following summary of the provisions of the Home Rule bill of\n1886 supplements the description of the bill given in Chapter V. Book\nX._:--\n\n\n One of the cardinal difficulties of all free government is to make\n it hard for majorities to act unjustly to minorities. You cannot\n make this injustice impossible but you may set up obstacles. In\n this case, there was no novelty in the device adopted. The\n legislative body was to be composed of two orders. The first order\n was to consist of the twenty-eight representative peers, together\n with seventy-five members elected by certain scheduled\n constituencies on an occupation franchise of twenty-five pounds\n and upwards. To be eligible for the first order, a person must\n have a property qualification, either in realty of two hundred\n pounds a year, or in personalty of the same amount, or a capital\n value of four thousand pounds. The representative peers now\n existing would sit for life, and, as they dropped off, the crown\n would nominate persons to take their place up to a certain date,\n and on the exhaustion of the twenty-eight existing peers, then the\n whole of the first order would become elective under the same\n conditions as the seventy-five other members.\n\n The second order would consist of 206 members, chosen by existing\n counties and towns under the machinery now operative. The two\n orders were to sit and deliberate together, but either order could\n demand a separate vote. This right would enable a majority of one\n order to veto the proposal of the other. But the veto was only to\n operate until a dissolution, or for three years, whichever might\n be the longer interval of the two.\n\n The executive transition was to be gradual. The office of viceroy\n would remain, but he would not be the minister of a party, nor\n quit office with an outgoing government. He would have a privy\n council; within that council would be formed an executive body of\n ministers like the British cabinet. This executive would be\n responsible to the Irish legislature, just as the executive\n government here is responsible to the legislature of this country.\n If any clause of a bill seemed to the viceroy to be _ultra vires_,\n he could refer it to the judicial committee of the privy council\n in London. The same reference, in respect of a section of an Irish\n Act, lay open either to the English secretary of state, or to a\n suitor, defendant, or other person concerned.\n\n Future judges were to hold the same place in the Irish system as\n English judges in the English system; their office was to be\n during good behaviour; they were to be appointed on the advice of\n the Irish government, removable only on the joint address of the\n two orders, and their salaries charged on the Irish consolidated\n fund. The burning question of the royal Irish constabulary was\n dealt with provisionally. Until a local force was created by the\n new government, they were to remain at the orders of the lord\n lieutenant. Ultimately the Irish police were to come under the\n control of the legislative body. For two years from the passing of\n the Act, the legislative body was to fix the charge for the whole\n constabulary of Ireland.\n\n In national as in domestic housekeeping, the figure of available\n income is the vital question. The total receipts of the Irish\n exchequer would be L8,350,000, from customs, excise, stamps,\n income-tax, and non-tax revenue. On a general comparison of the\n taxable revenues of Ireland and Great Britain, as tested more\n especially by the property passing under the death duties, the\n fair proportion due as Ireland's share for imperial purposes, such\n as interest on the debt, defence, and civil charge, was fixed at\n one-fifteenth. This would bring the total charge properly imperial\n up to L3,242,000. Civil charges in Ireland were put at L2,510,000,\n and the constabulary charge on Ireland was not to exceed\n L1,000,000, any excess over that sum being debited to England. The\n Irish government would be left with a surplus of L404,000. This\n may seem a ludicrously meagre amount, but, compared with the total\n revenue, it is equivalent to a surplus on our own budget of that\n date of something like five millions.\n\n The true payment to imperial charges was to be L1,842,000 because\n of the gross revenue above stated of L1,400,000 though paid in\n Ireland in the first instance was really paid by British consumers\n of whisky, porter, and tobacco. This sum, deducted from\n L3,342,000, leaves the real Irish contribution, namely L1,842,000.\n\n A further sum of uncertain, but substantial amount, would go to\n the Irish exchequer from another source, to which we have now to\n turn. With the proposals for self-government were coupled\n proposals for a settlement of the land question. The ground-work\n was an option offered to the landlords of being bought out under\n the terms of the Act. The purchaser was to be an Irish state\n authority, as the organ representing the legislative body. The\n occupier was to become the proprietor, except in the congested\n districts, where the state authority was to be the proprietor. The\n normal price was to be twenty years' purchase of the net rental.\n The most important provision, in one sense, was that which\n recognised the salutary principle that the public credit should\n not be resorted to on such a scale as this merely for the benefit\n of a limited number of existing cultivators of the soil, without\n any direct advantage to the government as representing the\n community at large. That was effected by making the tenant pay an\n annual instalment, calculated on the gross rental, while the state\n authority would repay to the imperial treasury a percentage\n calculated on the net rental, and the state authority would pocket\n the difference, estimated to be about 18 per cent. on the sum\n payable to the selling landlord. How was all this to be secured?\n Principally, on the annuities paid by the tenants who had\n purchased their holdings, and if the holdings did not satisfy the\n charge, then on the revenues of Ireland. All public revenues\n whatever were to be collected by persons appointed by the Irish\n government, but these collectors were to pay over all sums that\n came into their hands to an imperial officer, to be styled a\n receiver-general. Through him all rents and Irish revenues\n whatever were to pass, and not a shilling was to be let out for\n Irish purposes until their obligations to the imperial exchequer\n had been discharged.\n\n\n\n\nOn The Place Of Italy. (Page 415)\n\n\n By the provisions of nature, Italy was marked out for a\n conservative force in Europe. As England is cut off by the\n channel, so is Italy by the mountains, from the continental\n mass.... If England commits follies they are the follies of a\n strong man who can afford to waste a portion of his resources\n without greatly affecting the sum total.... She has a huge free\n margin, on which she might scrawl a long list of follies and even\n crimes without damaging the letterpress. But where and what is the\n free margin in the case of Italy, a country which has contrived in\n less than a quarter of a century of peace, from the date of her\n restored independence, to treble (or something near it) the\n taxation of her people, to raise the charge of her debt to a point\n higher than that of England, and to arrive within one or two short\n paces of national bankruptcy?...\n\n Italy by nature stands in alliance neither with anarchy nor with\n Caesarism, but with the cause and advocates of national liberty\n and progress throughout Europe. Never had a nation greater\n advantages from soil and climate, from the talents and\n dispositions of the people, never was there a more smiling\n prospect (if we may fall back upon the graceful fiction) from the\n Alpine tops, even down to the Sicilian promontories, than that\n which for the moment has been darkly blurred. It is the heart's\n desire of those, who are not indeed her teachers, but her friends,\n that she may rouse herself to dispel once and for ever the evil\n dream of what is not so much ambition as affectation, may\n acknowledge the true conditions under which she lives, and it\n perhaps may not yet be too late for her to disappoint the\n malevolent hopes of the foes of freedom, and to fulfil every\n bright and glowing prediction which its votaries have ever uttered\n on her behalf.--_\"__The Triple Alliance and Italy's Place in\n it__\"__ (Contemporary Review, Oct. 1889)._\n\n\n\n\nThe Glasgow Peroration. (Page 492)\n\n\n_After describing the past history of Ireland as being for more than five\nhundred years 'one almost unbroken succession of political storm and\nswollen tempest, except when those tempests were for a time interrupted by\na period of servitude and by the stillness of death,' Mr. Gladstone went\non_:--\n\n\n Those storms are in strong contrast with the future, with the\n present. The condition of the Irish mind justifies us in\n anticipating. It recalls to my mind a beautiful legend of ancient\n paganism--for that ancient paganism, amongst many legends false and\n many foul, had also some that were beautiful. There were two\n Lacedaemonian heroes known as Castor and Pollux, honoured in their\n life and more honoured in their death, when a star was called\n after them, and upon that star the fond imagination of the people\n fastened lively conceptions; for they thought that when a ship at\n sea was caught in a storm, when dread began to possess the minds\n of the crew, and peril thickened round them, and even alarm was\n giving place to despair, that if then in the high heavens this\n star appeared, gradually and gently but effectually the clouds\n disappeared, the winds abated, the towering billows fell down to\n the surface of the deep, calm came where there had been uproar,\n safety came where there had been danger, and under the beneficent\n influence of this heavenly body the terrified and despairing crew\n came safely to port. The proposal which the liberal party of this\n country made in 1886, which they still cherish in their mind and\n heart, and which we trust and believe, they are about now to carry\n forward, that proposal has been to Ireland and the political\n relations of the two countries what the happy star was believed to\n be to the seamen of antiquity. It has produced already\n anticipations of love and good will, which are the first fruits of\n what is to come. It has already changed the whole tone and temper\n of the relations, I cannot say yet between the laws, but between\n the peoples and inhabitants of these two great islands. It has\n filled our hearts with hope and with joy, and it promises to give\n us in lieu of the terrible disturbances of other times, with their\n increasing, intolerable burdens and insoluble problems, the\n promise of a brotherhood exhibiting harmony and strength at home,\n and a brotherhood which before the world shall, instead of being\n as it hitherto has been for the most part, a scandal, be a model\n and an example, and shall show that we whose political wisdom is\n for so many purposes recognised by the nations of civilised Europe\n and America have at length found the means of meeting this oldest\n and worst of all our difficulties, and of substituting for\n disorder, for misery, for contention, the actual arrival and the\n yet riper promise of a reign of peace.--_Theatre Royal, Glasgow,\n July 2, 1892._\n\n\n\n\nThe Naval Estimates Of 1894.\n\n\n(M197) _The first paragraph of this memorandum will be found on p. 508_:--\n\n\n This might be taken for granted as to 1854, 1870, and 1884. That\n it was equally true in my mind of 1859 may be seen by any one who\n reads my budget speech of July 18, 1859. I defended the provision\n as required by and for the time, and for the time only. The\n occasion in that year was the state of the continent. It was\n immediately followed by the China war (No. 3) and by the French\n affair (1861-2), but when these had been disposed of economy\n began; and, by 1863-4, the bulk of the new charge had been got rid\n of.\n\n There is also the case of the fortifications in 1860, which would\n take me too long to state fully. But I will state briefly (1) my\n conduct in that matter was mainly or wholly governed by regard to\n peace, for I believed, and believe now, that in 1860 there were\n only two alternatives; one of them, the French treaty, and the\n other, war with France. And I also believed in July 1860 that the\n French treaty must break down, unless I held my office. (2) The\n demand was reduced from nine millions to about five (has this been\n done now?) (3) I acted in concert with my old friend and\n colleague, Sir James Graham. We were entirely agreed.\n\n _Terse figures of new estimates_\n\n The \"approximate figure\" of charge involved in the new plan of the\n admiralty is L4,240,000, say 4-1/2 millions. Being an increase\n (subject probably to some further increase in becoming an act)\n\n 1. On the normal navy estimate 1888-9 (_i.e._ before the Naval\n Defence Act) of, in round numbers, 4-1/4 millions\n\n 2. On the first year's total charge under the Naval Defence Act of\n (1,979,000), 2 millions\n\n 3. On the estimates of last year 1893-94 of 3 millions\n\n 4. On the total charge of 1893-4 of (1,571,000), 1-1/2 million\n\n 5. On the highest amount ever defrayed from the year's revenue\n (1892-3), 1-1/2 million\n\n 6. On the highest expenditure of any year under the Naval Defence\n Act which included 1,150,000 of borrowed money, 359,000\n\n\n\n\nMr. Gladstone's Cabinet Colleagues. (Page 525)\n\n\n_The following is the list of the seventy ministers who served in cabinets\nof which Mr. Gladstone was a member_:--\n\n1843-45. Peel.\n Wellington.\n Lyndhurst.\n Wharncliffe.\n Haddington.\n Buccleuch.\n Aberdeen.\n Graham.\n Stanley.\n Ripon.\n Hardinge.\n Goulburn.\n Knatchbull.\n1846. Ellenborough.\n S. Herbert.\n Granville Somerset.\n Lincoln.\n1852-55. Cranworth.\n Granville.\n Argyll.\n Palmerston.\n Clarendon.\n C. Wood.\n Molesworth.\n Lansdowne.\n Russell.\n G. Grey.\n1855. Panmure.\n Carlisle.\n1859-65. Campbell.\n G. C. Lewis.\n Duke of Somerset.\n Milner Gibson.\n Elgin.\n C. Villiers.\n1859-65. Cardwell.\n Westbury.\n Ripon.\n Stanley of Alderley.\n1865-66. Hartington.\n Goschen.\n1868-74. Hatherley.\n Kimberley.\n Bruce.\n Lowe.\n Childers.\n Bright.\n C. Fortescue.\n Stansfeld.\n Selborne.\n Forster.\n1880-85. Spencer.\n Harcourt.\n Northbrook.\n Chamberlain.\n Dodson.\n Dilke.\n Derby.\n Trevelyan.\n Lefevre.\n Rosebery.\n1886. Herschell.\n C. Bannerman.\n Mundella.\n John Morley.\n1892. Asquith.\n Fowler.\n Acland.\n Bryce.\n A. Morley.\n\n\n\n\n\nCHRONOLOGY\n\n\nAll speeches unless otherwise stated were made in the House of Commons.\n\n1880.\n\nFeb. \"Free trade, railways and the growth of commerce,\" in _Nineteenth\nCentury_.\n\nFeb. 27. At St. Pancras on obstruction, liberal unity and errors of\ngovernment.\n\nFeb. 27. On rules dealing with obstruction.\n\nMarch \"Russia and England,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMarch 5. On motion in favour of local option.\n\nMarch 11. Issues address to electors of Midlothian.\n\nMarch 15. Criticises budget.\n\nMarch 17. At Music Hall, Edinburgh, on government's eastern policy.\n\nMarch 18. At Corstorphine on Anglo-Turkish convention.\n\nMarch 18. At Ratho on neglect of domestic legislation.\n\nMarch 19. At Davidson's Mains on indictment of the government. At Dalkeith\non the government and class interests.\n\nMarch 20. At Juniper Green, and at Balerno, replies to tory criticism of\nliberal party. At Midcalder on abridgment of rights of parliament.\n\nMarch 22. At Gilmerton on church disestablishment. At Loanhead on the\neastern policy of liberal and tory parties.\n\nMarch 23. At Gorebridge and at Pathhead.\n\nMarch 25. At Penicuik on Cyprus.\n\nMarch 30. At Stow on finance.\n\nApril \"Religion, Achaian and Semitic,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nApril 2. At West Calder on liberal record and shortcomings of the\ngovernment.\n\nApril 5. Elected for Midlothian: Mr. Gladstone, 1579; Lord Dalkeith, 1368.\n\nApril 7. Returns to Hawarden.\n\nApril 28. Second administration formed.\n\nMay. Anonymous article, \"The Conservative Collapse,\" in _Fortnightly\nReview_.\n\nMay 8. Returned unopposed for Midlothian.\n\nMay 11. Publication of correspondence with Count Karolyi, Austrian\nambassador.\n\nMay 16. Receives deputation of farmers on agricultural reform.\n\nMay 20. On government's Turkish policy.\n\nMay 21. Moves reference to committee of Mr. Bradlaugh's claim to take his\nseat in parliament.\n\nMay 25. On South African federation.\n\nJune 1. On government's policy regarding Cyprus.\n\nJune 10. Introduces supplementary budget.\n\nJune 16. On reduction of European armaments.\n\nJune 18. On resolution in favour of local option. Moves second reading of\nSavings Banks bill.\n\nJune 22. On resolution that Mr. Bradlaugh be allowed to make a\ndeclaration.\n\nJuly 1. On Mr. Bradlaugh's case.\n\nJuly 5, 26. On Compensation for Disturbances (Ireland) bill.\n\nJuly 23. Explains government's policy regarding Armenia.\n\nJuly 30-Aug. 9. Confined to room by serious illness.\n\nAug. 26-Sept. 4. Makes sea trip in the _Grantully Castle_ round England\nand Scotland.\n\nSept. 4. On government's Turkish policy.\n\nNov. 9. At lord mayor's banquet on Ireland and foreign and colonial\nquestions.\n\n1881.\n\nJan. 6. On Ireland.\n\nJan. 21. On annexation of Transvaal.\n\nJan. 28. On Irish Protection of Person and Property bill.\n\nFeb. 3. Brings in closure resolution.\n\nFeb. 23. Falls in garden at Downing Street.\n\nMarch 15. Moves vote of condolence on assassination of Alexander II.\n\nMarch 16. On grant in aid of India for expenses of Afghan war.\n\nMarch 28. On county government and local taxation.\n\nApril 4. Introduces budget.\n\nApril 7. Brings in Land Law (Ireland) bill.\n\nApril 26 and 27. On Mr. Bradlaugh's case.\n\nMay 2. Resigns personal trusteeship of British Museum.\n\nMay 4. Supports Welsh Sunday Closing bill.\n\nMay 5. Supports vote of thanks on military operations in Afghanistan.\n\nMay 9. Tribute to Lord Beaconsfield.\n\nMay 16. On second reading of Irish Land bill.\n\nJune 10. On the law of entail.\n\nJune 24. On Anglo Turkish convention.\n\nJuly 25. On vote of censure on Transvaal.\n\nJuly 29. On third reading of Irish Land bill.\n\nAug. 6. At Mansion House on fifteen months' administration.\n\nAug. 18. On Mr. Parnell's vote of censure on the Irish executive.\n\nOct. 7. Presented with an address by corporation of Leeds: on land and\n\"fair trade.\" At banquet in Old Cloth Hall on Ireland.\n\nOct. 8. Presented with address by Leeds Chamber of Commerce: on free\ntrade. Mass meeting of 25,000 persons in Old Cloth Hall on foreign and\ncolonial policy.\n\nOct. 13. Presented with address by city corporation at Guildhall: on\nIreland and arrest of Mr. Parnell.\n\nOct. 27. At Knowsley on the aims of the Irish policy.\n\nNov. 9. At lord mayor's banquet on government's Irish policy and\nparliamentary procedure.\n\n1882.\n\nJan. 12. At Hawarden on agriculture.\n\nJan. 31. On local taxation to deputation from chambers of agriculture.\n\nFeb. 7. On Mr. Bradlaugh's claim.\n\nFeb. 9. On home rule amendment to address.\n\nFeb. 16. On the Irish demand for home rule.\n\nFeb. 20. Moves first of new procedure rules.\n\nFeb. 21. On local taxation.\n\nFeb. 21 and 22. On Mr. Bradlaugh's case.\n\nFeb. 27. Meeting of liberal party at Downing Street. On House of Lords'\ncommittee to inquire into Irish Land Act.\n\nFeb. 27. Moves resolution declaring parliamentary inquiry into Land Act\ninjurious to interests of good government.\n\nMarch 3. On persecution of Jews in Russia.\n\nMarch 6. Supports resolution for legislation on parliamentary oaths.\n\nMarch 10. On proposed state acquisition of Irish railways.\n\nMarch 17. On British North Borneo Company's charter.\n\nMarch 21. On parliamentary reform.\n\nMarch 23. On grant to Duke of Albany.\n\nMarch 30. On closure resolution.\n\nMarch 31. On inquiry into ecclesiastical commission.\n\nApril 17. Opposes motion for release of Cetewayo.\n\nApril 18. On diplomatic communications with Vatican.\n\nApril 24. Introduces budget.\n\nApril 26. On the Irish Land Act Amendment bill.\n\nMay 2. Statement of Irish policy, announces release of \"suspects,\" and\nresignation of Mr. Forster.\n\nMay 4. On Mr. Forster's resignation.\n\nMay 8. Moves adjournment of the House on assassination of Lord F.\nCavendish and Mr. Burke.\n\nMay 15. Brings in Arrears of Rent (Ireland) bill.\n\nMay 19. On second reading of Prevention of Crime (Ireland) bill.\n\nMay 22. On Arrears bill.\n\nMay 24. On Prevention of Crime bill.\n\nMay 26-June 1. On government's Egyptian policy.\n\nJune 14. On Egyptian crisis.\n\nJune 17. On Mr. Bright's resignation.\n\nJuly 12. On bombardment of Alexandria.\n\nJuly 21. On third reading of Arrears bill.\n\nJuly 24. Asks for vote of credit for L2,300,000.\n\nJuly 27. Concludes debate on vote of credit.\n\nJuly 28. On national expenditure.\n\nAug. 8. On Lords' amendments to Arrears bill.\n\nAug. 9. On suspension of Irish members, July 1.\n\nAug. 16. On events leading to Egyptian war.\n\nOct. 25-31, and Dec. 1. On twelve new rules of procedure.\n\nOct. 26. Moves vote of thanks to forces engaged in Egyptian campaign.\n\nNov. 24. Opposes demand for select committee on release of Mr. Parnell.\n\nDec. 13. Celebrates political jubilee.\n\n1883.\n\nJan. 6-16. Suffers from sleeplessness at Hawarden.\n\nJan. 17. Leaves England for south of France.\n\nMarch 2. Returns to London.\n\nMarch 14. On Irish Land Law (1881) Amendment bill.\n\nMarch 16. On Boer invasion of Bechuanaland.\n\nApril 3. On Channel tunnel.\n\nApril 6. On increase in national expenditure.\n\nApril 17. On local taxation.\n\nApril 19. On Lords Alcester and Wolseley's annuity bills.\n\nApril 26. On Parliamentary Oaths Act (1866) Amendment bill.\n\nMay 2. At National Liberal club on conservative legacy of 1880 and work of\nliberal administration, 1880-1883.\n\nMay 7. On Contagious Diseases Acts.\n\nMay 25. On reforms in Turkey.\n\nMay 29. Meeting of liberal party at foreign office: on state of public\nbusiness.\n\nJune 2. At Stafford House: tribute to Garibaldi.\n\nJune 12. On revision of purchase clauses of Land Act.\n\nJune 23. On withdrawal of provisional agreement for second Suez canal.\n\nJuly 27. On India and payment for Egyptian campaign.\n\nJuly 30. On future negotiations with Suez canal company.\n\nAug. 6. On government's Transvaal and Zululand policies.\n\nAug. 6-7. On British occupation of Egypt.\n\nAug. 18. Protests against violent speeches of Irish members.\n\nAug. 21. On work of the session.\n\nSept. Italian translation of Cowper's hymn: \"Hark my soul! It is the\nLord,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nAug. 8-21. In _Pembroke Castle_ round coast of Scotland to Norway and\nCopenhagen.\n\nAug. 13. At Kirkwall: on changes during half century of his political\nlife.\n\nSept. 18. Entertains the Emperor and Empress of Russia, the King and Queen\nof Denmark, at dinner on board _Pembroke Castle_ in Copenhagen harbour.\n\nDec. 22. At Hawarden, to deputation of liberal working men on reform of\nthe franchise.\n\n1884.\n\nJan. 5. At Hawarden on condition of agriculture.\n\nJan 31. Receives deputations from Leeds conference, etc., on Franchise\nbill.\n\nFeb. 11 and 21. On Mr. Bradlaugh's attempt to take the oath.\n\nFeb. 12. On Egyptian and Soudan policy in reply to vote of censure.\n\nFeb. 13. On re-establishment of grand committees.\n\nFeb. 25. Moves resolution of thanks to Speaker Brand on his retirement.\n\nFeb. 28. Explains provisions of Representation of the People (Franchise)\nbill.\n\nMarch 3. In defence of retention of Suakin.\n\nMarch 6. On government's Egyptian policy.\n\nMarch 10-19. Confined to his room by a chill.\n\nMarch 19 to April 7. Recuperates at Coombe Warren.\n\nMarch 31. On death of Duke of Albany.\n\nApril 3. On General Gordon's mission in Soudan.\n\nApril 7. On second reading of Franchise bill.\n\nMay 12. On vote of censure regarding General Gordon.\n\nMay 27. On Egyptian financial affairs.\n\nJune 10. Opposes amendment to Franchise bill granting suffrage to women.\n\nJune 23. On terms of agreement with France on Egypt.\n\nJune 26. On third reading of Franchise bill.\n\nJuly 8. On second reading of London Government bill.\n\nJuly 10. Meeting of the liberal party: on rejection of Franchise bill by\nHouse of Lords.\n\nJuly 11. On negotiations with Lord Cairns on Franchise bill.\n\nJuly 18. At Eighty club on relation of politics of the past to politics of\nthe future.\n\nAug. 2. On failure of conference on Egyptian finance.\n\nAug. 11. On Lord Northbrook's mission to Egypt.\n\nAug. 30. At Corn Exchange, Edinburgh, on Lords and Franchise bill.\n\nSept. 1. At Corn Exchange, Edinburgh, in defence of his administration.\n\nSept. 2. In Waverley Market on demand of Lords for dissolution.\n\nSept. 26. Returns to Hawarden.\n\nOct. 16. Cuts first sod on Wirral railway: on railway enterprise.\n\nOct. 23. On Franchise bill.\n\nOct. 28. Defends Lord Spencer's Irish administration.\n\nNov. 4. Lays foundation stone of National Liberal club: on liberal\nadministrations of past half century.\n\nNov. 6 and 10. On second reading of Franchise bill.\n\nNov. 21. On Mr. Labouchere's motion for reform of House of Lords.\n\nDec. 1. Brings in Redistribution bill.\n\nDec. 4. On second reading of Redistribution bill.\n\n1885.\n\nFeb. 23. On vote of censure on Soudan policy.\n\nMarch 26. Moves ratification of Egyptian financial agreement.\n\nApril 9. Announces occupation of Penjdeh by Russians.\n\nApril 16. In defence of Egyptian Loan bill.\n\nApril 21. Asks for vote of credit for war preparations.\n\nApril 27. On Soudan and Afghanistan.\n\nMay 4. Announces agreement with Russia on Afghan boundary dispute.\n\nMay 14. On Princess Beatrice's dowry.\n\nJune 8. Defends increase of duties on beer and spirits.\n\nJune 9. Resignation of government.\n\nJune 24. Reads correspondence on crisis.\n\nJuly 6. On legislation on parliamentary oaths.\n\nJuly 7. On intentions of the new government.\n\nAug. 8-Sept. 1. In Norway.\n\nSept. 17. Issues address to Midlothian electors.\n\nNov. \"Dawn of Creation and of Worship,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nNov. 9. At Albert Hall, Edinburgh, on proposals of Irish party.\n\nNov. 11. At Free Assembly Hall, Edinburgh, on disestablishment.\n\nNov. 17. At West Calder on Ireland, foreign policy, and free trade.\n\nNov. 21. At Dalkeith on finance and land reform.\n\nNov. 23. At inauguration of Market Cross, Edinburgh: on history of the\ncross.\n\nNov. 24. At Music Hall, Edinburgh, on tory tactics and Mr. Parnell's\ncharges.\n\nNov. 27. Elected for Midlothian: Mr. Gladstone, 7879; Mr. Dalrymple, 3248.\n\n1886.\n\nJan. \"Proem to Genesis: a Plea for a Fair Trial,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJan. 21. On government's policy in India, the Near East and Ireland.\n\nJan. 26. In support of amendment for allotments.\n\nFeb. 3. Third administration formed.\n\nFeb. 4. Issues address to electors of Midlothian.\n\nFeb. 10. Returned unopposed for Midlothian.\n\nFeb. 22. On comparative taxation of England and Ireland. On annexation of\nBurmah.\n\nFeb. 23. On Ireland's contribution to imperial revenue.\n\nMarch 4. On condition of Ireland.\n\nMarch 6-12. Confined to his room by a cold.\n\nApril 6. On death of Mr. W. E. Forster.\n\nApril 8. Brings in Government of Ireland (Home Rule) bill.\n\nApril 13. On first reading of Home Rule bill.\n\nApril 16. Explains provisions of Irish Land Purchase bill.\n\nMay 1. Issues address to electors of Midlothian on Home Rule bill.\n\nMay 10. Moves second reading of Home Rule bill.\n\nMay 27. Meeting of liberal party at the foreign office: on the Home Rule\nbill.\n\nMay 28. Explains intentions regarding the Home Rule bill.\n\nJune 7-8. Concludes debate on Home Rule bill.\n\nJune 10. Announces dissolution of parliament.\n\nJune 14. Issues address to electors of Midlothian.\n\nJune 18. At Music Hall, Edinburgh, on home rule.\n\nJune 21. At Music Hall, Edinburgh, on home rule.\n\nJune 22. At Glasgow on home rule.\n\nJune 25. At Free Trade Hall, Manchester, on home rule.\n\nJune 28. At Liverpool on Ulster and home rule.\n\nJuly 2. Returned unopposed for Midlothian and Leith.\n\nJuly 20. Resignation of third administration.\n\nAug. 19-24. On government's Irish, policy.\n\nAug. 25. Leaves England for Bavaria.\n\nAug 28. \"_The Irish Question: (1) History of an Idea; (2) Lessons of the\nElection_,\" published.\n\nSept. 19. Returns to London.\n\nSept. 20. On Tenants Relief (Ireland) bill.\n\nOct. 4. At Hawarden. Receives address signed by 400,000 women of Ireland:\non home rule.\n\n1887.\n\nJan. \"_Locksley Hall_ and the Jubilee,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJan. 27. Tribute to memory of Lord Iddesleigh.\n\nJan. 27. On Lord Randolph Churchill's retirement and Ireland.\n\nFeb. \"Notes and Queries on the Irish Demand,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMarch \"The Greater Gods of Olympus: (1) Poseidon,\" in _Nineteenth\nCentury_.\n\nMatch 17. To the liberal members for Yorkshire: on home rule.\n\nMarch 24. On the exaction of excessive rents.\n\nMarch 29. On Criminal Law Amendment (Ireland) bill.\n\nApril \"The History of 1852-60 and Greville's Latest Journals,\" in _English\nHistorical Review_.\n\nApril 18. On second reading of Criminal Law Amendment bill.\n\nApril 19. At Eighty club on liberal unionist grammar of dissent.\n\nApril 25. Criticise Mr. Goschen's budget.\n\nMay \"The Greater Gods of Olympus: (2) Apollo,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMay 5. Moves for select committee to inquire into the _Times_ articles on\n\"Parnellism and Crime.\"\n\nMay 11. At Dr. Parker's house on Ireland.\n\nMay 31. On Crimes bill at Hawarden.\n\nJune Reviews Mr. Lecky's _History of England in the Eighteenth Century_ in\n_Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJune \"The Great Olympian Sedition,\" in _Contemporary Review_.\n\nJune 4. At Swansea, on Welsh nationality, Welsh grievances, and the Irish\nCrimes bill.\n\nJune 6. At Singleton Abbey on home rule and retention of Irish members.\n\nJune 7. At Cardiff on home rule.\n\nJuly \"The Greater Gods of Olympus: (3) Athene,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJune 2. To the liberal members for Durham on Lord Hartington's Irish\nrecord.\n\nJune 7. Moves rejection of Irish Criminal Law Amendment bill.\n\nJune 9. Presented at Dollis Hill with address signed by 10,689 citizens of\nNew York.\n\nJune 14. On second reading of the Irish Land bill.\n\nJune 16. At National Liberal club: on Ireland and home rule movement in\nScotland and Wales.\n\nJune 29. At Memorial Hall on the lessons of bye-elections.\n\nAug. \"Mr. Lecky and Political Morality,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nAug. 16. Lays first cylinder of railway bridge over the Dee: on railway\nenterprise and the Channel tunnel.\n\nAug. 25. On proclamation of Irish land league.\n\nAug. 30. At Hawarden on Queen Victoria's reign.\n\nSept. \"Electoral Facts of 1887,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nSept. 12. On riot at Mitchelstown, Ireland.\n\nOct. \"Ingram's History of the Irish Union,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nOct. 4. At Hawarden on the absolutist methods of government.\n\nOct. 18. At National Liberal Federation, Nottingham, on conduct of Irish\npolice.\n\nOct. 19. At Skating Rink, Nottingham, on home rule.\n\nOct. 20. At Drill Hall, Derby, on Ireland.\n\nNov. \"An Olive Branch from America,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nDec. 27. At Dover on free trade and Irish Crimes Act.\n\nDec. 28. Leaves England for Italy.\n\n1888.\n\nJan. \"A reply to Dr. Ingram,\" in _Westminster Review_.\n\nFeb. \"The Homeric Here,\" in _Contemporary Review_.\n\nFeb. 8. Returns to London.\n\nFeb. 17. On coercion in Ireland.\n\nMarch \"Further Notes and Queries on the Irish Demand,\" in _Contemporary\nReview_.\n\nMarch 23. On perpetual pensions.\n\nApril 9. On the budget.\n\nApril 11. At National Liberal club on the budget and Local Government\nbill.\n\nApril 23. Moves an amendment in favour of equalising the death duties on\nreal and personal property.\n\nApril 25. On second reading of County Government (Ireland) bill.\n\nMay. \"Robert Elsmere, and the Battle of Belief,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMay. A reply to Colonel Ingersoll on \"Christianity,\" in _North American\nReview_.\n\nMay 1. On government control of railways.\n\nMay 2. Opens Gladstone library at National Liberal club: on books.\n\nMay 9. At Memorial Hall on Irish question.\n\nMay 26. At Hawarden condemns licensing clauses of Local Government bill.\n\nMay 30. Receives deputation of 1500 Lancashire liberals at Hawarden.\n\nJune 18. On death of German Emperor.\n\nJune 26. Condemns administration of Irish criminal law.\n\nJune 27. On Channel Tunnel bill.\n\nJune 30. At Hampstead on Ireland and the bye-elections.\n\nJuly \"The Elizabethan Settlement of Religion,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJuly 6. On payment of members.\n\nJuly 18. To liberal members for Northumberland and Cumberland on Parnell\ncommission and retention of Irish members.\n\nJuly 23. On second reading of Parnell Commission bill.\n\nJuly 25. Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone presented with their portraits on entering\non fiftieth year of married life.\n\nJuly 30. On composition of Parnell commission.\n\nAug. 20. Receives deputation of 1500 liberals at Hawarden: on conservative\ngovernment of Ireland.\n\nAug. 23. At Hawarden on spade husbandry and the cultivation of fruit.\n\nSept. \"Mr. Forster and Ireland,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nSept. 4. At Wrexham on Irish and Welsh home rule.\n\nSept. 4. At the Eisteddfod on English feeling towards Wales.\n\nNov. \"Queen Elizabeth and the Church of England,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nNov. 5. At Town Hall, Birmingham, on liberal unionists and one man one\nvote.\n\nNov. 6. To deputation at Birmingham on labour representation and payment\nof members.\n\nNov. 7. At Bingley Hall, Birmingham, on Irish question.\n\nNov. 8. To deputation of Birmingham Irish National club on Irish\ngrievances.\n\nNov. 19. On Irish Land Purchase bill.\n\nDec. 3. On Mr. Balfour's administration of Ireland.\n\nDec. 15. At Limehouse Town Hall on necessary English reforms and the Irish\nquestion.\n\nDec. 17. On English occupation of Suakin.\n\nDec. 19. Leaves England for Naples.\n\n1889.\n\nJan. \"Daniel O'Connell,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nFeb. Reviews _Divorce_ by Margaret Lee in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nFeb. 20. Returns to London.\n\nMarch 1. On conciliatory measures in administration of Ireland.\n\nMarch 29. On death of John Bright.\n\nApril Reviews _For the Right_ in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nApril 4. On L21,000,000 for naval defence.\n\nApril 9. On Scotch home rule.\n\nMay \"Italy in 1888-89,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMay 15. On second reading of Welsh Education bill.\n\nMay 16. Moves amendment to Mr. Goschen's proposed death duties on estates\nabove L10,000.\n\nJune 5. At Southampton on lessons of the bye-elections.\n\nJune 7. At Romsey on Lord Palmerston.\n\nJune 8. At Weymouth on shorter parliaments and Ireland.\n\nJune 10. At Torquay on Ireland.\n\nJune 11. At Falmouth and Redruth on Ireland.\n\nJune 12. At Truro, St. Austell, and Bodmin on Ireland, one man one vote,\nthe death duties, etc.\n\nJune 14. At Launceston on dissentient liberals.\n\nJune 14. At Drill Hall, Plymouth, on home rule.\n\nJune 17. At Shaftesbury and Gillingham on the agricultural labourer.\n\nJuly \"Plain Speaking on the Irish Union,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJuly 6. Presented with freedom of Cardiff; on free trade; on foreign\nopinion of English rule in Ireland.\n\nJuly 25. Golden wedding celebrated in London.\n\nJuly 25. Speech on royal grants.\n\nAug. \"Phoenician Affinities of Ithaca,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nAug. 22. At Hawarden on cottage gardens and fruit culture.\n\nAug. 26. Celebration of golden wedding at Hawarden.\n\nSept. 7. Entertained in Paris by Society of Political Economy.\n\nSept. 23. At Hawarden on dock strike and bimetallism.\n\nSept. \"The Triple Alliance and Italy's Place in it,\" by Outidanos, in\n_Contemporary Review_.\n\nOct. Reviews _Journal de Marie Bashkirtseff_ in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nOct. 23. At Southport on Ireland.\n\nOct. 26. Opens literary institute at Saltney, Chester.\n\nNov. \"The English Church under Henry the Eighth,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nNov. \"The Question of Divorce,\" in _North American Review_.\n\nDec. Reviews _Memorials of a Southern Planter_ in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nDec. 2. At Free Trade Hall, Manchester, on liberal unionists and foreign\npolicy.\n\nDec. 3. In Free Trade Hall on government of Ireland.\n\nDec. 4. At luncheon at Town Hall on city of Manchester.\n\n1890.\n\nJan. \"A Defence of Free Trade,\" in _North American Review_.\n\nJan. \"The Melbourne Government: its Acts and Persons,\" in _Nineteenth\nCentury_.\n\nJan. 9. At Hawarden on the effect of free trade on agriculture.\n\nJan. 22. At Chester on Ireland.\n\nFeb. 5. At Oxford Union on vestiges of Assyrian mythology in Homer.\n\nFeb. 11. On motion declaring publication by _Times_ of forged Parnell\nletter to be breach of privilege.\n\nMarch \"On Books and the Housing of Them,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMarch 3. On report of Parnell commission.\n\nMarch 24. At National Liberal club on report of Parnell commission.\n\nMarch 26. At Guy's Hospital on the medical profession.\n\nApril 24. On second reading of Purchase of Land (Ireland) bill.\n\nMay 2. On disestablishment of church of Scotland.\n\nMay 12. On free trade at Prince's Hall, Piccadilly.\n\nMay 15. On Local Taxation Duties bill.\n\nMay 16. At Norwich on Parnell commission, land purchase and licensing\nquestion.\n\nMay 17. At Lowestoft on Siberian atrocities and the agricultural labourer.\n\nApril 27. Receives 10,000 liberals at Hawarden: on Mitchelstown, Irish\nLand bill, and Licensing bill.\n\nJune 5. On Channel Tunnel bill.\n\nJune 13. On Local Taxation Duties bill.\n\nJune 18. To depositors in railways' savings banks: on thrift.\n\nJuly 17. At Burlington School, London, on the education of women.\n\nJuly 24. On Anglo-German Agreement bill.\n\nJuly 30. To Wesleyans at National Liberal club on Maltese marriage\nquestion, and Ireland.\n\nAug. 21. At Hawarden on cottage gardening and fruit farming.\n\nJuly 30. \"Dr. Doellinger's Posthumous Remains,\" in the _Speaker_.\n\nSept. 12. At Dee iron works on industrial progress.\n\nOct. 21. At Corn Exchange, Edinburgh, on government's Irish\nadministration.\n\nOct. 23. At West Calder on condition of working classes and Ireland.\n\nOct. 25. At Dalkeith on home rule for Scotland and Ireland.\n\nOct. 27. At Music Hall, Edinburgh, on retention of Irish members,\nprocedure and obstruction.\n\nOct. 29. At Dundee on free trade and the McKinley tariff. Opens Victorian\nArt Gallery: on appreciation of beauty.\n\nNov. \"Mr. Carnegie's Gospel of Wealth,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nNov. 24. Letter to Mr. Morley on Mr. Parnell and leadership of Irish\nparty.\n\nDec. 1. Publishes reply to Mr. Parnell's manifesto to Irish people.\n\nDec. 2. On Purchase of Land (Ireland) bill.\n\nDec. 11. At Retford on Mr. Parnell and the home rule cause.\n\nPublishes _The Impregnable Rock of Holy Scripture_, a reprint of articles\nin _Good Words_.\n\n_Landmarks of Homeric Study, together with an Essay on the Points of\nContact between the Assyrian Tablets and the Homeric Text._\n\n1891.\n\nJan. 27. Supports motion to expunge from journals of the House the\nBradlaugh resolution (1881).\n\nFeb. \"Professor Huxley and the Swine-Miracle,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nFeb. 4. Moves second reading of Religious Disabilities Removal bill.\n\nFeb. 13. Opens free library in St. Martin's Lane: on free libraries.\n\nFeb. 16. Condemns action of Irish executive in Tipperary trials.\n\nFeb. 20. On disestablishment of church in Wales.\n\nFeb. 27. On taxation of land.\n\nMarch 3. On registration reform.\n\nMarch 14. At Eton College on Homeric Artemis.\n\nMarch 17. At Hastings on Mr. Goschen's finance, Irish policy, and the\ncareer of Mr. Parnell.\n\nMay \"A Memoir of John Murray,\" in _Murray's Magazine_.\n\nJune 19. At St. James's Hall, at jubilee of Colonial Bishoprics Fund, on\ndevelopment of colonial church.\n\nJuly 4. Death of W. H. Gladstone.\n\nJuly 15. At Hawarden on fifty years of progress.\n\nSept. \"Electoral Facts, No. III.,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nOct. \"On the Ancient Beliefs in a Future State,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nOct. 1. At jubilee of Glenalmond College on study of nature and the\nclerical profession.\n\nOct. 2. At Newcastle on the liberal programme.\n\nNov. 3. At Newcastle on local self-government and freedom of trade.\n\nNov. 28. At Wirral on home rule. At Sunlight Soap works on profit-sharing\nand cooperation.\n\nDec. 11. At Holborn Restaurant to conference of labourers on rural\nreforms.\n\nDec. 15. Leaves London for Biarritz.\n\n1892.\n\nFeb.-May \"On the Olympian Religion,\" in _North American Review_.\n\nFeb. 29. Returns to London.\n\nMarch 3. Opposes grant of L20,000 for survey of Uganda railway.\n\nMarch 16. On Welsh Land Tenure bill.\n\nMarch 24. On Small Agricultural Holdings bill.\n\nMarch 28. On Indian Councils Act (1861) Amendment bill.\n\nApril Reviews _The Platform, its Rise and Progress_, in _Nineteenth\nCentury_.\n\nApril 28. On Church Discipline (Immorality) bill.\n\nMay 24. On Local Government (Ireland) bill.\n\nMay 31. At Memorial Hall on London government.\n\nJune \"Did Dante Study in Oxford?\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJune 5. At Dalkeith on Scotch home rule and disestablishment.\n\nJune 16. Receives deputation from London trades council on Eight Hours\nbill.\n\nJune 18. To nonconformists at Clapham on Ulster and home rule.\n\nJune 21. Issues address to electors of Midlothian.\n\nJune 25. Struck in the eye by piece of gingerbread in Chester. At Liberal\nclub on the general election, the appeal to religious bigotry, and\ndisestablishment.\n\nJune 30. At Edinburgh Music Hall on Lord Salisbury's manifesto, home rule,\nand retention of Irish members.\n\nJuly 2. At Glasgow on Orangeism and home rule.\n\nJuly 4. At Gorebridge on labour questions.\n\nJuly 6. At Corstorphine on government's record.\n\nJuly 7. At West Calder on protection, the hours of labour and home rule.\n\nJuly 11. At Penicuik on conservative responsibility for recent wars,\nfinance, disestablishment, and Irish question.\n\nJuly 13. Elected for Midlothian: Mr. Gladstone, 5845; Colonel Wauchope,\n5155.\n\nAug. 9. On vote of want of confidence.\n\nAug. 15. Fourth administration formed.\n\nAug. 24. Returned unopposed for Midlothian.\n\nAug. 29. Knocked down by heifer in Hawarden Park.\n\nSept. 5. A paper on Archaic Greece and the East read before Congress of\nOrientalists.\n\nSept. 12. At Carnarvon on case of Wales.\n\nOct. \"A Vindication of Home Rule: a Reply to the Duke of Argyll,\" in\n_North American Review_.\n\nOct. 22. Cuts first sod of the new Cheshire railway: on migration of\npopulation and mineral produce of Wales.\n\nOct. 24. Delivers Romanes lecture at Oxford on history of universities.\n\nDec. 3. Presented with freedom of Liverpool: on history of Liverpool and\nManchester ship canal.\n\nDec. 21. Leaves England for Biarritz.\n\n1893.\n\nJan. 10. Returns to England.\n\nJan. 31. Replies to Mr. Balfour's criticisms on the address.\n\nFeb. 3. On Mr. Labouchere's amendment in favour of evacuation of Uganda.\n\nFeb. 8. On amendment praying for immediate legislation for agricultural\nlabourers.\n\nFeb. 11. On motion for restriction of alien immigration.\n\nFeb. 13. Brings in Government of Ireland (Home Rule) bill.\n\nFeb. 28. On motion for international monetary conference.\n\nMarch 3. Receives deputation from the miners' federation on Eight Hours\nbill.\n\nMarch 20. On Sir Gerald Portal's mission to Uganda.\n\nMarch 27. Meeting of the liberal party at foreign office: on programme for\nsession.\n\nMarch 27. On Mr. Balfour's motion censuring action of Irish executive.\n\nMarch 28. Receives deputations from Belfast manufacturers and city of\nLondon merchants protesting against home rule.\n\nApril 6. Moves second reading of Home Rule bill.\n\nApril 19. Receives a deputation from the miners' National Union on Eight\nHours bill.\n\nApril 21. Replies to criticisms on Home Rule bill.\n\nMay 1. On the occupation of Egypt.\n\nMay 2. Receives a deputation of the Mining Association in opposition to\nEight Hours bill.\n\nMay 3. On second reading of Miners' Eight Hours bill.\n\nMay 11. Replies to Mr. Chamberlain's speech on first clause of Home Rule\nbill.\n\nMay 23. Opens Hawarden institute: on the working classes.\n\nMay 29. At Chester on Home Rule bill.\n\nJune \"Some Eton Translations,\" in _Contemporary Review_.\n\nJune 16. On arbitration between England and United States.\n\nJune 22. Statement regarding the financial clauses of Home Rule bill.\n\nJune 28. Moves resolution for closing debate on committee stage of Home\nRule bill.\n\nJuly 12. Announces government's decision regarding the retention of Irish\nmembers at Westminster.\n\nJuly 14. Moves address of congratulation on marriage of Duke of York.\n\nJuly 21. Moves a new clause to Home Rule bill regulating financial\nrelations.\n\nAug. 5. At Agricultural Hall, Islington, on industry and art.\n\nAug. 30. Moves third reading of Home Rule bill.\n\nSept. 27. At Edinburgh on House of Lords and the Home Rule bill.\n\nNov. 9. On Matabeleland and the chartered company.\n\nDec. 19. On naval policy of the government.\n\n1894.\n\nJan. 13. Leaves England for Biarritz.\n\nFeb. 10. Returns to England.\n\nMarch 1. On the Lords' amendments to Parish Councils bill.\n\nMarch 3. Resigns the premiership.\n\nMarch 7. Confined to bed by severe cold.\n\nMarch 17. At Brighton. Letter to Sir John Cowan--his farewell to\nparliamentary life.\n\nMay \"The Love Odes of Horace--five specimens,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nMay 3. At Prince's Hall on life and work of Sir Andrew Clark.\n\nMay 24. Right eye operated on for cataract.\n\nJuly 7. Announces decision not to seek re-election to parliament.\n\nAug. \"The Place of Heresy and Schism in the Modern Christian Church,\" in\n_Nineteenth Century_.\n\nAug. 14. On cottage gardening at Hawarden.\n\nAug. 16. Receives deputation of 1500 liberals from Torquay at Hawarden.\n\nSept. \"The True and False Conception of the Atonement,\" in _Nineteenth\nCentury_.\n\nDec. 29. Receives deputation from the Armenian national church at\nHawarden.\n\n1895.\n\nJan. 7. Presented with an album by Irish-Americans: in favour of Irish\nunity.\n\nJan. 8. Leaves England for south of France.\n\nMarch Publishes _The Psalter with a concordance_.\n\nJan. \"The Lord's Day,\" in _Church Monthly_; concluded in April number.\n\nJan. 23. Returns to England from France.\n\nJan. 15. At Hawarden to a deputation of Leeds and Huddersfield liberal\nclubs: on English people and political power, and on advantages of\nlibraries.\n\nJune 12-24. Cruise in _Tantallon Castle_ to Hamburg, Copenhagen, and Kiel.\n\nJuly 1. Farewell letter to Midlothian constituents.\n\nAug. 5. At Hawarden on small holdings and his old age.\n\nAug. 6. At Chester on Armenian question.\n\nNov. \"Bishop Butler and his Censors,\" in _Nineteenth Century_; concluded\nin December number.\n\nDec. 28. Leaves England for Biarritz and Cannes.\n\n1896.\n\nFeb. Publishes _The Works of Bishop Butler_.\n\nMarch 10. Returns to England from Cannes.\n\nMarch 28. At Liverpool on the development of the English railway system.\n\nApril \"The Future Life and the Condition of Man Therein,\" in _North\nAmerican Review_.\n\nApril Contributes an article on \"The Scriptures and Modern Criticism\" to\nthe _People's Bible_.\n\nMay _Soliloquium and Postscript_--a letter to the Archbishop of York,\npublished.\n\nJune \"Sheridan,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nJune 1. Letter on Anglican Orders published.\n\nAug. 3. At Hawarden horticultural show on rural life.\n\nSept. 1. At fete in aid of Hawarden Institute on progress of music.\n\nSept. 2. At Hawarden fete on Welsh music.\n\nSept. 24. At Hengler's circus, Liverpool, on Armenian question.\n\nOct. \"The Massacres in Turkey,\" in _Nineteenth Century_.\n\nOct. 16. At Penmaenmawr in praise of seaside resorts.\n\n1897.\n\nJan. 29. Leaves England for Cannes.\n\nMarch 19. Letter to the Duke of Westminster on the Cretan question\npublished.\n\nMarch 30. Returns to England from Cannes.\n\nMay 4. At Hawarden on the condition of the clergy.\n\nJune 2. Opens Victoria jubilee bridge over the Dee at Queensferry.\n\nAug. 2. At Hawarden horticultural show on small culture.\n\nNov. 26. Leaves England for Cannes.\n\n1898.\n\nJan. 5. \"Personal Recollections of Arthur H. Hallam,\" in _Daily\nTelegraph_.\n\nFeb. 18. Returns to London from Cannes.\n\nFeb. 22. Goes to Bournemouth.\n\nMarch 22. Returns to Hawarden.\n\nMay 19. Death of Mr. Gladstone.\n\nMay 26, 27. Lying in state in Westminster Hall.\n\nMay 28. Burial in Westminster Abbey.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n 1 Above, vol. ii. pp. 563-8.\n\n M1 The Cabinet A Coalition\n M2 Character As Head Of The Cabinet\n M3 An Independent House Of Commons\n M4 Naval Demonstration\n\n 2 March 25-6, 1881.\n\n 3 Bradlaugh, who was a little vain of his legal skill, founded this\n claim upon the Evidence Amendment Act, taken in connection with the\n Parliamentary Oaths and other Acts.\n\n M5 The Bradlaugh Case\n\n 4 See vol. i. p. 138.\n\n 5 Speech on second reading of Affirmation bill, 1883.\n\n M6 On Theistic Tests\n M7 The Bradlaugh Case\n\n_ 6 Lord Hampden's Diaries._\n\n 7 Perhaps the best equivalent for _begeistert_ here is \"_daemonic._\"\n\n M8 Speech On Affirmation Bill\n\n 8 Lucretius, ii. 646. \"For the nature of the gods must ever of itself\n enjoy repose supreme through endless time, far withdrawn from all\n concerns of ours; free from all our pains, free from all our perils,\n strong in resources of its own, needing nought from us, no favours\n win it, no anger moves.\"\n\n M9 End Of The Struggle\n\n 9 Religious Disabilities Removal bill, Feb. 4, 1891.\n\n 10 Vol. ii. p. 583.\n\n M10 Recall Of Sir Bartle Frere\n M11 Annexation Of The Transvaal\n\n 11 Sir Garnet Wolseley to Sir M. Hicks Beach, Nov. 13, 1879.\n\n M12 Decision Of The Government\n\n 12 In H. of C, Jan. 21, 1881.\n\n_ 13 Speeches in Scotland_, i. pp. 48, 63.\n\n 14 C, 2586, No. 3.\n\n 15 Mr. Grant Duff, then colonial under-secretary, said in the House of\n Commons, May 21, 1880, \"Under the very difficult circumstances of\n the case, the plan which seemed likely best to conciliate the\n interests at once of the Boers, the natives and the English\n population, was that the Transvaal should receive, and receive with\n promptitude, as a portion of confederation, the largest possible\n measure of local liberties that could be granted, and that was the\n direction in which her Majesty's present advisers meant to move.\"\n\n 16 At Birmingham, June 1881.\n\n M13 Decision Of The Government\n\n 17 C, 2367, p. 55.\n\n_ 18 Afghanistan and S. Africa:_ A letter to Mr. Gladstone by Sir Bartle\n Frere. Murray, 1891, pp. 24-6. Frere, on his return to England, once\n more impressed on the colonial office the necessity of speedily\n granting the Boers a constitution, otherwise there would be serious\n trouble. (_Life_, ii. p. 408.)\n\n M14 Boer Rising\n\n 19 Sir George Colley pressed Lord Kimberley in his correspondence with\n the reality of this grievance, and the urgency of trying to remove\n it. This was after the Boers had taken to arms at the end of 1880.\n\n 20 Before the Gladstone government came into office, between August\n 1879 and April 1880, whilst General Wolseley was in command, the\n force in Natal and the Transvaal had been reduced by six batteries\n of artillery, three companies of engineers, one cavalry regiment,\n eleven battalions of infantry, and five companies of army service\n corps. The force at the time of the outbreak was: in Natal 1772, and\n in the Transvaal 1759--a total of 3531. As soon as the news of the\n insurrection reached London, large reinforcements were at once\n despatched to Colley, the first of them leaving Gibraltar on Dec.\n 27, 1880.\n\n 21 Sir B. Frere was recalled on August 1, 1880, and sailed for England\n September 15. Sir Hercules Robinson, his successor, did not reach\n the Cape until the end of January 1881. In the interval Sir George\n Strahan was acting governor.\n\n M15 Paragraph In The Royal Speech\n\n 22 Lord Kimberley justified this decision on the ground that it was\n impossible to send a commissioner to inquire and report, at a moment\n when our garrisons were besieged, and we had collected no troops to\n relieve them, and when we had just received the news that the\n detachment of the 94th had been cut off on the march from Lydenberg\n to Pretoria. \"Is it not practically certain,\" he wrote, \"that the\n Boers would have refused at that time to listen to any reasonable\n terms, and would have simply insisted that we should withdraw our\n troops and quit the country?\" Of course, the Boer overture, some six\n weeks after the rejection by Lord Kimberley of the Cape proposal,\n and after continued military success on the side of the Boers,\n showed that this supposed practical certainty was the exact reverse\n of certain.\n\n M16 Boer Overtures\n\n 23 \"I do not know whether I am indebted to you or to Mr. Childers or to\n both, for the continuance of H.M.'s confidence, but I shall always\n feel more deeply grateful than I can express; and can never forget\n H.M.'s gracious message of encouragement at a time of great\n trouble.\"--Colley to Kimberley, Jan. 31, 1881.\n\n 24 \"The directions to Colley,\" says Mr. Bright in a cabinet minute,\n \"intended to convey the offer of a suspension of hostilities on both\n sides, with a proposal that a commissioner should be appointed to\n enter into negotiations and arrangements with a view to peace.\"\n\n_ 25 Life of Childers_, ii. p. 24.\n\n M17 Repulse On Majuba Hill\n\n 26 Colley's letter to Childers, Feb. 23, _Life of Childers_, ii. p. 24.\n\n M18 Sir Evelyn Wood's View\n\n 27 See Selborne's _Memorials_, ii. p. 3, and also a speech by Lord\n Kimberley at Newcastle, Nov. 14, 1899.\n\n 28 In a speech at Edinburgh (Sept. 1, 1884), Mr. Gladstone put the same\n argument--\"The people of the Transvaal, few in number, were in close\n and strong sympathy with their brethren in race, language, and\n religion. Throughout South Africa these men, partly British subjects\n and partly not, were as one man associated in feeling with the\n people of the Transvaal; and had we persisted in that dishonourable\n attempt, against all our own interests, to coerce the Transvaal as\n we attempted to coerce Afghanistan, we should have had the whole\n mass of the Dutch population at the Cape and throughout South Africa\n rising in arms against us.\"\n\n 29 July 25, 1881.\n\n 30 One of the most determined enemies of the government in 1881, ten\n years later, in a visit to South Africa, changed his mind. \"The\n Dutch sentiment in the Cape Colony, wrote Lord Randolph Churchill,\n 'had been so exasperated by what it considered the unjust,\n faithless, and arbitrary policy pursued towards the free Dutchmen of\n the Transvaal by Frere, Shepstone, and Lanyon, that the final\n triumph of the British arms, mainly by brute force, would have\n permanently and hopelessly alienated it from Great Britain.... On\n the whole, I find myself free to confess, and without reluctance to\n admit, that the English escaped from a wretched and discreditable\n muddle, not without harm and damage, but perhaps in the best\n possible manner.\"\n\n M19 Case Considered\n M20 The Sequel\n\n 31 \"I apprehend, whether you call it a Protectorate, or a Suzerainty,\n or the recognition of England as a Paramount Power, the fact is that\n a certain controlling power is retained when the state which\n exercises this suzerainty has a right to veto any negotiations into\n which the dependent state may enter with foreign powers. Whatever\n suzerainty meant in the Convention of Pretoria, the condition of\n things which it implied still remains; although the word is not\n actually employed, we have kept the substance. We have abstained\n from using the word because it was not capable of legal definition,\n and because it seemed to be a word which was likely to lead to\n misconception and misunderstanding.\"--_Lord Derby in the House of\n Lords_, March 17, 1884. I do not desire to multiply points of\n controversy, but the ill-starred raising of the ghost of suzerainty\n in 1897-9 calls for the twofold remark that the preamble was struck\n out by Lord Derby's own hand, and that alike when Lord Knutsford and\n Lord Ripon were at the colonial office, answers were given in the\n House of Commons practically admitting that no claim of suzerainty\n could be put forward.\n\n_ 32 Works of T. H. Green_, iii. 382.\n\n 33 House of Commons, April 4, 1882.\n\n 34 Edinburgh, Sept. 1, 1884.\n\n M21 Action Of The Lords\n\n 35 See vol. ii. book vi. chap. II.\n\n 36 Proceedings had been instituted in the Dublin courts against Parnell\n and others for seditious conspiracy. The jury were unable to agree\n on a verdict.\n\n 37 Tried by Lord Spencer in Westmeath in 1871, it had been successful,\n but the area of disturbance was there comparatively insignificant.\n\n M22 Disturbances In Ireland\n\n 38 For a plain and precise description of the Coercion Act of 1881, see\n Dicey's _Law of the Constitution_, pp. 243-8.\n\n 39 See vol. ii. p. 284.\n\n M23 Great Agrarian Law\n M24 Its Reception In Ireland\n M25 Arrest Of Mr. Parnell\n\n 40 At the Cloth Hall banquet, Leeds, Oct. 8, 1881.\n\n 41 Speech to the Leeds Chamber of Commerce, Oct. 8, 1881.\n\n M26 Mr. Forster's Resignation\n\n 42 Introduced by Mr. Redmond.\n\n M27 The Murders In The Phoenix Park\n\n 43 It had been Mr. Burke's practice to drive from the Castle to the\n Park gate, then to descend and walk home, followed by two\n detectives. On this occasion he found at the gate that the chief\n secretary had passed, and drove forward to overtake him. The\n detectives did not follow him as usual. If they had followed, he\n would have been saved.\n\n_ 44 Life of Dean Church_, p. 299.\n\n_ 45 Nineteenth Century_, August, 1877; _Gleanings_, iv. p. 357.\n\n M28 Anti-European Rising\n\n 46 July 27, 1882.\n\n 47 Granville and Malet, November 4, 1881.\n\n 48 Before Midlothian, however, Mr. Gladstone had in 1877 drawn an\n important distinction: \"If I find the Turk incapable of establishing\n a good, just, and well-proportioned government over civilised and\n Christian races, it does not follow that he is under a similar\n incapacity when his task shall only be to hold empire over\n populations wholly or principally Orientals and Mahomedans. On this\n head I do not know that any verdict of guilty has yet been found by\n a competent tribunal.\"--_Gleanings_, iv. p. 364.\n\n M29 Policy Of England And France\n\n_ 49 Fortnightly Review_, July 1882.\n\n 50 Defining the claims of the European bondholder on revenue.\n\n M30 Gambetta\n\n_ 51 Fortnightly Review_, July 1882.\n\n M31 Diplomatic Labyrinth\n\n 52 Lord Granville to Lord Dufferin. Oct. 5, 1882.\n\n M32 Bombardment Of Alexandria\n M33 Tel-El-Kebir\n\n 53 A share of the credit of success is due to the admirable efficiency\n of Mr. Childers at the War Office. See Sir Garnet's letter to him,\n _Life of Childers_, ii. p. 117.\n\n 54 Considerate la vostra semenza:\n Fatti non foste a viver come bruti,\n Ma per seguir virtute e conoscenza.\n --_Inferno_, xxvi. 118.\n\n M34 After Fifty Years\n\n_ 55 Times_, Dec. 8, 1882.\n\n_ 56 Standard_, Nov. 16, 1882.\n\n_ 57 Morning Post_, Oct. 20, 1882.\n\n M35 Parliamentary Power Unbroken\n\n 58 Traill's _New Lucian_, pp. 305-6,--in spite of politics, a book of\n admirable wit, scholarship, and ingenious play of mind.\n\n 59 To Mr. Hazzopolo, Dec. 22, 1882.\n\n M36 Dean Wellesley\n M37 Recommendation To Canterbury\n\n_ 60 Life of Tait_, i. p. 109.\n\n 61 Bishop Browne writes to a friend (_Life_, p. 457): \"Gladstone, I\n learned both from himself and others, searched into all precedents\n from the Commonwealth to the present day for a primate who began his\n work at seventy, and found none but Juxon. Curiously, I have been\n reading that he himself, prompted by Bishop Wilberforce, wanted\n Palmerston to appoint Sumner (of Winchester) when he was\n seventy-two. It was when they feared they could not get Longley (who\n was sixty-eight).\"\n\n_ 62 Life and Letters of Dean Church_, p. 307.\n\n M38 Church Appointments\n\n_ 63 Life and Letters of Dean Church_, p. 307.\n\n 64 See vol. i. p. 47.\n\n_ 65 Gleanings_, ii. p. 287.\n\n M39 Reconstruction\n\n 66 Lord Derby had refused office in the previous May.\n\n M40 Reconstruction\n\n 67 The matter itself has no importance, but a point of principle or\n etiquette at one time connected with it is perhaps worth mentioning.\n To a colleague earlier in the year Mr. Gladstone wrote: \"I can\n affirm with confidence that the notion of a title in the cabinet to\n be consulted on the succession to a cabinet office is absurd. It is\n a title which cabinet ministers do not possess. During thirty-eight\n years since I first entered the cabinet, I have never known more\n than a friendly announcement before publicity, and very partial\n consultation perhaps with one or two, especially the leaders in the\n second House.\"\n\n M41 Holiday At Cannes\n\n 68 See Appendix.\n\n 69 The lines from Lucretius (in his speech on the Affirmation bill).\n See above, p. 19.\n\n 70 In a party sense, as he told the cabinet, it might be wise enough to\n grant it, as it would please the public, displease the tories, and\n widen the breach between the fourth party and their front bench. Mr.\n Gladstone had suffered an unpleasant experience in another case, of\n the relations brought about by the refusal of a political pension\n after inquiry as to the accuracy of the necessary statement as to\n the applicant's need for it.\n\n M42 Mr. Bright And The Irishmen\n\n 71 By an odd coincidence, on the day after my selection of this letter,\n I read that the French prime minister, M. Combes, laid down the\n doctrine that the government is never committed by a minister's\n individual declarations, but only by those of the head of the\n government. He alone has the power of making known the direction\n given to policy, and each minister individually has authority only\n for the administration of his department (September 25, 1902). Of\n course this is wholly incompatible with Mr. Gladstone's ideas of\n parliamentary responsibility and the cabinet system.\n\n M43 Official Discipline\n M44 Occupation Of Egypt\n\n 72 Many indications of this could be cited, if there were room. A\n parade of the victors of Tel-el-Kebir through the streets of London\n stirred little excitement. Two ministers went to make speeches at\n Liverpool, and had to report on returning to town that references to\n Egypt fell altogether flat.\n\n M45 Egyptian Finance\n\n 73 Milner's _England in Egypt_, p. 185.\n\n M46 County Franchise\n\n_ 74 Saturday Review_, April 12, 1884.\n\n M47 Bill Rejected By The Lords\n\n 75 Edinburgh, August 30, 1884.\n\n 76 Corn Exchange, Edinburgh, August 30, 1884.\n\n M48 Negotiation\n M49 Negotiation And Persuasion\n\n 77 Dinner of the Eighty Club, July 11, 1884.\n\n M50 The Queen's Suggestion\n M51 Conferences With Lord Salisbury\n M52 The Question Settled\n M53 Mr. Plunket's Speech\n M54 The Case Of Ireland\n\n 78 Lord Waterford, July 7, 1884.\n\n 79 December 11, 1883.\n\n 80 \"I am not at all sure,\" Mr. Forster rashly said (March 31, 1884),\n \"that Mr. Parnell will increase his followers by means of this\n bill.\"\n\n 81 This was only the second occasion on which his party in cardinal\n divisions voted with the government.\n\n M55 The Mahdi\n\n 82 Wingate, pp. 50, 51.\n\n 83 The Soudan was conquered in 1819 by Ismail Pasha, the son of Mehemet\n Ali, and from that date Egypt had a more or less insecure hold over\n the country. In 1870 Sir Samuel Baker added the equatorial provinces\n to the Egyptian Soudan.\n\n 84 Mr. Gladstone said on Nov. 2, 1882: \"It is no part of the duty\n incumbent upon us to restore order in the Soudan. It is politically\n connected with Egypt in consequence of its very recent conquest; but\n it has not been included within the sphere of our operations, and we\n are by no means disposed to admit without qualification that it is\n within the sphere of our responsibility.\" Lord Granville, May 7,\n 1883: \"H.M. government are in no way responsible for the operations\n in the Soudan, which have been undertaken under the authority of the\n Egyptian government, or for the appointment or actions of General\n Hicks.\"\n\n M56 Policy Of Evacuation\n M57 Despatch Of Gordon\n\n 85 It was a general mistake at that time to suppose that wherever a\n garrison fell into the hands of the Mahdi, they were massacred. At\n Tokar, for instance, the soldiers were incorporated by the victors.\n See Wingate, p. 553.\n\n 86 Granville to Baring, Dec. 1, 1883; Jan. 10, 1884.\n\n 87 Gordon had suppressed the Taiping rising in China in 1863. In 1874\n he was appointed by the Egyptian government governor-general of the\n equatorial provinces of central Africa. In 1876 he resigned owing to\n trouble with the governor-general of the Soudan upon the suppression\n of the slave trade, but was appointed (1877) governor-general of the\n Soudan, Darfur, the equatorial provinces, and the Red Sea littoral.\n He held this position till the end of 1879, suppressing the slave\n trade with a strong hand and improving the means of communication\n throughout the Soudan. He succeeded in establishing comparative\n order. Then the new Egyptian government reversed Gordon's policy,\n and the result of his six years' work soon fell to pieces.\n\n 88 Gordon's Letters to Barnes, 1885. Lord Granville took his ticket,\n Lord Wolseley carried the General's bag, and the Duke of Cambridge\n held open the carriage door.\n\n M58 Character Of Gordon\n\n 89 Baring's Instructions to Gordon (Jan. 25, 1884).\n\n 90 Gladstone to Granville, Jan. 19, 1884.--\"I telegraphed last night my\n concurrence in your proceedings about Gordon: but Chester would not\n awake and the message only went on this morning.\"\n\n 91 Dilke in House of Commons, Feb. 14, 1884. See also Lord Granville to\n Sir E. Baring, March 28, 1884. In recapitulating the instructions\n given to General Gordon, Lord Granville says: \"_His_ (Gordon's)\n _first proposal_ was to proceed to Suakin with the object of\n reporting from thence on the best method of effecting the evacuation\n of the Soudan.... His instructions, _drawn up in accordance with his\n own views_, were to report to her Majesty's government on the\n military situation in the Soudan,\" etc.\n\n M59 Gordon's Instructions\n\n 92 For the full text of these instructions, see Appendix.\n\n 93 Baring to Granville, January 28, 1884.\n\n 94 Dated, _Steamship __\"__Tanjore,__\"__ at Sea, Jan. 22, 1884_.\n\n 95 Granville to Baring, March 28.\n\n M60 Changes Of Policy\n\n 96 Feb. 23, 1885.\n\n 97 May 13, 1884.\n\n M61 Zobeir\n\n 98 Wingate's _Mahdism_, p. 109.\n\n 99 Baring to Granville, Jan. 28.--\"I had a good deal of conversation\n with General Gordon as to the manner in which Zobeir Pasha should be\n treated. Gen. Gordon entertains a high opinion of Zobeir Pasha's\n energy and ability. He possesses great influence in the Soudan, and\n General Gordon is of opinion that _circumstances might arise which\n would render it desirable that he should be sent back to the\n Soudan_.\"\n\n M62 Zobeir\n\n 100 (_From his diary._) _March 9._--... At night recognised the fact of a\n cold, and began to deal with it. 10th. Kept my bed all day. 11th.\n The cabinet sat, and Granville came to and fro with the\n communications, Clark having prohibited my attendance. Read _Sybil_.\n 12th. Bed as yesterday. 13th. Got to my sitting-room in the evening.\n It has, however, taken longer this time to clear the chest, and\n Clark reports the pulse still too high by ten. Saw Granville.\n Conclave, 7-1/2 to 8-1/2, on telegram to Baring for Gordon. I was not\n allowed to attend the cabinet.\n\n 101 The case of the government was stated with all the force and reason\n of which it admitted, in Lord Granville's despatch of March 28,\n 1884.\n\n M63 Condition Of The Soudan\n\n 102 In the light of this proceeding, the following is curious: \"There is\n one subject which I cannot imagine any one differing about. That is\n the impolicy of announcing our intention to evacuate Khartoum. Even\n if we were bound to do so we should have said nothing about it. The\n moment it is known we have given up the game, every man will go over\n to the Mahdi. All men worship the rising sun. The difficulties of\n evacuation will be enormously increased, if, indeed, the withdrawal\n of our garrison is not rendered impossible.\"--Interview with General\n Gordon, _Pall Mall Gazette_, Jan. 8, 1884.\n\n ... \"In the afternoon of Feb. 13 Gordon assembled all the\n influential men of the province and showed them the secret firman.\n The reading of this document caused great excitement, but at the\n same time its purport was received evidently with much\n gratification. It is worthy of note that the whole of the notables\n present at this meeting subsequently threw in their cause with the\n Mahdi.\"--Henry William Gordon's _Events in the Life of Charles George\n Gordon_, p. 340.\n\n 103 Wingate, p. 110.\n\n M64 Question Of An Expedition\n\n 104 Lord Hartington, House of Commons, May 13, 1884. An admirable\n speech, and the best defence of ministers up to this date.\n\n 105 Address to the electors of Midlothian, September 17, 1885.\n\n 106 See the official _History of the Soudan Campaign_, by Colonel\n Colvile, Part 1. pp. 45-9.\n\n M65 The Expedition Starts\n\n 107 February 27, 1885.\n\n 108 Colvile, II., Appendix 47, p. 274. Apart from the authority of\n Kitchener, Gordon's own language shows that he knew himself to be\n _in extremis_ by the end of December.\n\n 109 The story that he went to the theatre the same night is untrue.\n\n M66 Mr. Gladstone's Vindication\n\n_ 110 Belford's Magazine_ (New York), Sept. 1890. A French translation of\n this letter will be found in _L'Egypte et ses Provinces Perdues_, by\n the recipient, Colonel C. Chaille-Long Bey (1892), pp. 196-7. He was\n chief of the staff to Gordon in the Soudan, and consular-agent for\n the United States at Alexandria. Another book of his, published in\n 1884, is _The Three Prophets; Chinese Gordon, El Mahdi, and Arabi\n Pasha_. Burton reviewed Gordon's Khartoum Journals, _Academy_, June\n 11, 1885.\n\n M67 Party Prospects\n\n 111 Above, p. 166.\n\n M68 The Left Wing\n\n 112 For the censure, 288; against, 302.\n\n M69 Narrow Escape In Parliament\n\n 113 I often tried to persuade him that our retreat was to be explained\n apart from pusillanimity, but he would not listen.\n\n M70 Change Of Soudan Policy\n\n 114 See Appendix.\n\n 115 For instance when Mr. Gladstone fell from office in 1874, Lord Odo\n Russell wrote to him, \"how sorry I feel at your retirement, and how\n grateful I am to you for the great advantage and encouragement I\n have enjoyed while serving under your great administration, in Rome\n and Berlin.\"\n\n 116 \"We do not depart in any degree from the policy of leaving the\n Soudan. As to the civilisation which the noble and gallant earl\n [Lord Dundonald] would impose upon us the duty of restoring, it\n could only be carried out by a large and costly expedition,\n entailing enormous sacrifice of blood and treasure, and for the\n present a continuous expenditure, which I do not think the people of\n this country would sanction.... The defence of our retention of\n Suakin is that it is a very serious obstacle to the renewal and the\n conduct of that slave trade which is always trying to pass over from\n Africa into Asia. I do not think that the retention of Suakin is of\n any advantage to the Egyptian government. If I were to speak purely\n from the point of view of that government's own interest, I should\n say, 'Abandon Suakin at once.' \"--Lord Salisbury, in the House of\n Lords, March 16, 1888.\n\n M71 A Historical Parallel\n\n 117 Above, vol. ii. p. 49.\n\n 118 Edinburgh, March 17, 1880.\n\n 119 In the letter to Mr. Bright (July 14, 1882) already given, Mr.\n Gladstone went somewhat nearer to the Manchester school, and\n expressed his agreement with Bright in believing most wars to have\n been sad errors.\n\n M72 The Vote Of Credit\n\n 120 West Calder, November 17, 1885.\n\n M73 State Of Ireland\n M74 Lord Randolph Churchill And The Irishmen\n\n 121 May 20, 1885.\n\n 122 The story was told by Lord R. Churchill in a speech at Sheffield,\n Sept 4, 1885.\n\n 123 Mr. McCarthy's speech at Hull, Dec. 15, 1887.\n\n M75 In The Ministerial Camp\n M76 Opinion In The Cabinet\n M77 Opinion In The Cabinet\n M78 Final Deliberations\n M79 Budget Rejected\n M80 Resignation Of Office\n\n 124 Duke of Argyll, July 10, 1885.\n\n 125 As the reader will remember (vol. i. pp. 436-440), on Dec. 16, 1852,\n Mr. Disraeli's motion for imposing a house duty of a shilling in the\n pound was rejected by 305 to 286. Mr. Gladstone also referred to the\n case of the expulsion of the whigs by Peel. On May 13, 1841, after\n eight nights' debate, the government were defeated by a majority of\n 36 on their budget proposals in regard to sugar. Ministers not\n resigning, Sir Robert Peel moved a vote of want of confidence on May\n 27, which was carried by a majority of 1 (312-311), June 4, 1841.\n Parliament thereupon was dissolved.\n\n M81 Ministerial Crisis\n\n 126 Memo. by Mr. Gladstone, on a sheet of notepaper, June 20, 1885.\n\n M82 Crisis Prolonged\n\n 127 Mr. Gladstone was reminded by a colleague that when Sir Robert Peel\n resumed office in 1845, at the request of the Queen, he did so\n before and without consultation with his colleagues. In the end they\n all, excepting Lord Stanley, supported him.\n\n 128 June 25, 1885.\n\n 129 The correspondence with the Queen up to June 21 was read by Mr.\n Gladstone in the House of Commons on June 24, and Lord Salisbury\n made his statement in the House of Lords on the next day. Mr.\n Gladstone told the House of Commons that he omitted one or two\n sentences from one of his letters, as having hardly any bearing on\n the real points of the correspondence. The omitted sentences related\n to the Afghan frontier, and the state of the negotiations with\n Russia.\n\n 130 This proceeding was so unusual as to be almost without a precedent.\n Lord Mulgrave had addressed the House of Lords in 1837, and Lord\n Clarendon in 1850. But on each of these occasions the viceroy's\n administration had been the object of vigorous attack, and no one\n but the viceroy himself was capable of making an effective\n parliamentary defence.\n\n 131 July 6, 1885. _Hans._ 298, p. 1659.\n\n M83 The Maamtrasna Debate\n\n 132 Sir M. H. Beach, July 17, 1885. _Hans._ 299, p. 1085.\n\n_ 133 Hans._ 299, p. 1098.\n\n_ 134 Ibid._ p. 1119.\n\n M84 Change In Situation\n\n 135 In _The Contemporary Review_, October 1885, p. 491.\n\n 136 See _Spectator_, Sept. 26, 1885.\n\n M85 Whigs And Radicals\n M86 Party Aspects\n\n 137 Mr. Chamberlain has been good enough to read these two letters, and\n he assents to their substantial accuracy, with a demurrer on two or\n three points, justly observing that anybody reporting a very long\n and varied conversation is almost certain, however scrupulous in\n intention, to insert in places what were thoughts much in his own\n mind, rather than words actually spoken. In inserting these two\n letters, it may tend to prevent controversy if we print such\n corrective hints as are desired.\n\n 138 In connection with a local government bill for small holdings and\n allotments, subsequently passed.\n\n 139 He suggested, for instance, the appointment of a committee.\n\n 140 Mr. Chamberlain puts it that he proposed to exclude home rule as\n impossible, and to offer a local government bill which he thought\n that Parnell might accept. Mr. Gladstone's statement that he and his\n visitor were \"pretty well agreed\" on Ireland, cannot mean therefore\n that the visitor was in favour of home rule.\n\n 141 This is not remembered.\n\n 142 \"Some misunderstanding here.\"\n\n 143 That is, in his seventy-sixth year.\n\n M87 A Remarkable Interview\n\n 144 This episode was first mentioned in the House of Commons, June 7,\n 1886. Lord Carnarvon explained in the Lords, June 10. Mr. Parnell\n replied in a letter to the _Times_, June 12. He revived the subject\n in the House of Commons, Feb. 13, 1888, and Lord Carnarvon explained\n a second time in the Lords on May 3. On Lord Carnarvon's first\n explanation, the Duke of Argyll, while placing the utmost reliance\n on his personal honour and accuracy, \"felt bound to observe that the\n statement did not appear to be complete, for he had omitted to\n explain what the nature of the communication [with Mr. Parnell]\n absolutely was.\" Neither then nor two years later was the omission\n made good. Curiously enough on the first occasion Lord Carnarvon did\n not even mention that Lord Salisbury in any way shared his\n responsibility for the interview, and in fact his language pointed\n the other way. What remains is his asseveration, supported by Lord\n Salisbury, that he had made no formal bargain with Mr. Parnell, and\n gave him no sort of promise, assurance, or pledge. This is not only\n entirely credible, it is certain; for the only body that could carry\n out such a promise had not been consulted. \"I may at least say this\n of what went on outside the cabinet--that I had no communication on\n the subject, _no authorisation_, and that I never communicated to\n them even that which I had done.\"--_Hansard_, 306, p. 1258.\n\n_ 145 E.g._ _Hans._ 306, pp. 1181, 1199.\n\n 146 Letter to the _Times_, June 12, 1886.\n\n M88 A Remarkable Interview\n\n_ 147 Hans._ 332, p. 336.\n\n 148 August 24, 1885.\n\n M89 Lord Hartington And Mr. Chamberlain\n\n 149 Lord Hartington at Waterfoot, August 29.\n\n 150 June 17, 1885.\n\n 151 Warrington, September 8.\n\n M90 Letter To Mr. Childers\n\n_ 152 Life of Childers_, ii. p. 230.\n\n 153 Sept. 18, 1885.\n\n 154 Nov. 9, 1885.\n\n 155 Midlothian Speeches, p. 49.\n\n_ 156 Ibid._ p. 39.\n\n M91 Declarations From Lord Salisbury\n\n 157 Some of them are set out in Special Commission _Report_, pp. 99,\n 100.\n\n 158 See Mr. Gladstone upon these tactics in his fifth Midlothian speech,\n Nov. 24, 1885. Also in the seventh, Nov. 28, pp. 159-60.\n\n M92 Irish Manifesto\n M93 In Midlothian\n\n_ 159 Nineteenth Century_, November 1885; reprinted in _Later Gleanings_.\n\n 160 Speech in the Free Assembly Hall, Nov. 11, 1885.\n\n M94 First Days\n\n 161 November 26, 1885.\n\n_ 162 Result of General Election of 1885_:--\n\n English and Welsh boroughs and universities, 93 L., 86 C., 1 P.\n Metropolis, 26, 36, 0\n English and Welsh counties, 152, 101, 0\n Scottish boroughs, 30, 3, 0\n Scottish counties, 32, 7, 0\n Ireland, 0, 18, 85\n Totals, 333 L., 251 C., 86 P.\n\n The following figures may also be found interesting:--\n\n _Election of 1868_--\n\n English and Welsh Liberals, 267\n Tories, 225\n Majority, 42\n\n _In 1880_--\n\n English and Welsh Liberals, 284\n Tories, 205\n Majority, 79\n\n _In 1885_--\n\n English and Welsh Liberals, 270\n Tories, 223\n Majority, 47\n\n M95 General Result\n\n 163 Mr. Chamberlain at Leicester, December 3, 1885.\n\n M96 Extraordinary Results In Ireland\n\n 164 Macknight's _Ulster as it Is_, ii. p. 108.\n\n 165 Mr. Forster, March 11, 1881.\n\n M97 Mr. Parnell As Dictator\n\n 166 Lord Salisbury, at a dinner given in London to the four conservative\n members for Hertfordshire, February 17, 1886.\n\n_ 167 Special Aspects of the Irish Question_, p. 18.\n\n M98 Proffer Of Support\n M99 Leaders At Hawarden\n\n 168 These statements first appeared in the _Leeds Mercury_ and the\n _Standard_ on Dec. 17, and in a communication from the National\n Press Agency issued on the night of Dec. 16. They were not published\n in the _Times_ and other London morning papers until Dec. 18. Mr.\n Gladstone's telegram was printed in the evening papers on Dec. 17.\n\n M100 Reports From Hawarden\n\n 169 Speech on the Address, January 21, 1886.\n\n M101 Notes Of Conflict\n\n 170 At the Birmingham Reform Club, Dec. 17, 1885.\n\n M102 Views Of Mr. Parnell\n M103 Changes And Rumours\n\n 171 Correspondence between Lord Salisbury and Lord Carnarvon, _Times_,\n Jan. 16, 1886.\n\n_ 172 Hans._ 302, pp. 1929-1993, March 4, 1886. See also Lord Randolph\n Churchill at Paddington, Feb. 13, 1886.\n\n 173 Maxwell's _Life of W. H. Smith_, ii. p. 163.\n\n 174 If this seems hyperbole, let the reader remember an entry in\n Macaulay's diary: \"I have now finished reading again most of Burke's\n works. Admirable! The greatest man since Milton.\" Trevelyan's\n _Life_, ii. p. 377.\n\n M104 End Of Seventy-Sixth Year\n\n 175 In 1833 the King's Speech represented the state of Ireland in words\n that might be used at the present time, and expressed confidence\n that parliament would entrust the King with \"such additional powers\n as may be necessary for punishing the disturbers of the public peace\n and for preserving and strengthening the legislative union between\n the two countries, which with your support and under the blessing of\n divine Providence I am determined to maintain by all the means in my\n power.\" The Address in answer assured his Majesty that his\n confidence should not be disappointed, and that \"we shall be ready\n to entrust to H.M. such additional measures, etc., for preserving\n and strengthening the legislative union which we have determined,\"\n etc. This was the address that Mr. O'Connell denounced as a \"bloody\n and brutal address,\" and he moved as an amendment that the House do\n resolve itself into a committee of the whole House to consider of an\n humble address to his Majesty. Feb. 8. Amendment negatived, Ayes\n being 428, Noes 40.--_Memo._ by Sir T. E. May for Mr. Gladstone, Jan.\n 18, 1886. O'Connell, that is to say, did not move an amendment in\n favour of repeal, but proposed the consideration of the Address in\n committee of the whole House.\n\n_ 176 Hans._ 302, p. 128.\n\n 177 Lord Carnarvon left Ireland on Jan. 28, and Lord Justices were then\n appointed. But the lawyers seem to hold that there cannot be Lord\n Justices without a viceroy, and Lord Carnarvon was therefore\n technically viceroy out of the kingdom (of Ireland), until Lord\n Aberdeen was sworn in upon Feb. 10, 1886. He must, accordingly, have\n signed the minute appointing Mr. Smith chief secretary, though of\n course Mr. Smith had gone over to reverse the Carnarvon policy.\n\n_ 178 Hans._ 302, p. 112.\n\n M105 Coercion Bill Announced\n\n 179 Mr. Gladstone was often taunted with having got in upon the question\n of allotments, and then throwing the agricultural labourer\n overboard. \"The proposition,\" he said, \"is not only untrue but\n ridiculous. If true, it would prove that Lord Grey in 1830 came in\n upon the pension list, and Lord Derby in 1852 on the militia.... For\n myself, I may say personally that I made my public declaration on\n behalf of allotments in 1832, when Mr. Jesse Collings was just\n born.\"--To Mr. C. A. Fyffe, May 6, 1890.\n\n_ 180 Diary._\n\n M106 Again Prime Minister\n\n 181 \"When the matter was finally adjusted by Chamberlain's retirement,\n we had against us--Derby, Northbrook, Carlingford, Selborne, Dodson,\n Chamberlain, Hartington, Trevelyan, Bright; and for--Granville,\n Spencer, Kimberley, Ripon, Rosebery, Harcourt, Childers, Lefevre,\n Dilke (unavailable).\" Mr. Goschen was not in the cabinet of 1880.\n\n 182 A few weeks later, Lord Hartington said on the point of Mr.\n Gladstone's consistency: \"When I look back to the declarations that\n Mr. Gladstone made in parliament, which have not been infrequent;\n when I look back to the increased definiteness given to these\n declarations in his address to the electors of Midlothian and in his\n Midlothian speeches; when I consider all these things, I feel that I\n have not, and that no one has, any right to complain of the\n declaration that Mr. Gladstone has recently made.\"--Speech at the\n Eighty Club, March 5, 1886.\n\n_ 183 Hans._ 304, p. 1106.\n\n M107 Position Of Mr. Chamberlain\n\n 184 January 30, 1886. _Hans._ 304, p. 1185.\n\n 185 As for the story of my being concerned in Mr. Gladstone's conversion\n to home rule, it is, of course, pure moonshine. I only glance at it\n because in politics people are ready to believe anything. At the\n general election of 1880, I had declined to support home rule. In\n the press, however, I had strenuously opposed the Forster Coercion\n bill of the following winter, as involving a radical misapprehension\n of the nature and magnitude of the case. In the course of that\n controversy, arguments pressed themselves forward which led much\n further than mere resistance to the policy of coercion. Without\n having had the advantage of any communication whatever with Mr.\n Gladstone upon Irish subjects for some years before, I had still\n pointed out to my constituents at Newcastle in the previous\n November, that there was nothing in Mr. Gladstone's electoral\n manifesto to prevent him from proposing a colonial plan for Ireland,\n and I had expressed my own conviction that this was the right\n direction in which to look. A few days before the fall of the tory\n government, I had advocated the exclusion of Irish members from\n Westminster, and the production of measures dealing with the\n land.--Speech at Chelmsford, January 7, 1886.\n\n 186 The cabinet was finally composed as follows:--\n\n Mr. Gladstone, _First lord of the treasury_.\n Lord Herschell, _Lord chancellor_.\n Lord Spencer, _President of council_.\n Sir W. Harcourt, _Chancellor of exchequer_.\n Mr. Childers, _Home secretary_.\n Lord Rosebery, _Foreign secretary_.\n Lord Granville, _Colonial secretary_.\n Lord Kimberley, _Indian secretary_.\n Mr. Campbell-Bannerman, _War secretary_.\n Lord Ripon, _Admiralty_.\n Mr. Chamberlain, _Local government_.\n Mr. Morley, _Irish secretary_.\n Mr. Trevelyan, _Scotch secretary_.\n Mr. Mundella, _Board of trade_.\n\n The Lord chancellor, Mr. C.-Bannerman, Mr. Mundella, and myself now\n sat in cabinet for the first time. After the two resignations at the\n end of March, Mr. Stansfeld came in as head of the Local government\n board, and we sat with the ominous number of thirteen at table.\n\n M108 On Procedure By Resolution\n\n 187 See Mr. Chamberlain's speech, June 1, 1886. _Hans._ 306, p. 677.\n Also Lord Hartington at Bradford, May 18, 1886.\n\n 188 June 1, 1833. _Hans._ 18, p. 186.\n\n 189 June 13, 1833. _Ibid._ p. 700.\n\n 190 May 14, 1833. _Hans._ 17, p. 1230.\n\n 191 There is also the case of the Reform bill of 1867. Disraeli laid\n thirteen resolutions on the table. Lowe and Bright both agreed in\n urging that the resolutions should be dropped and the bill at once\n printed. A meeting of liberal members at Mr. Gladstone's house\n unanimously resolved to support an amendment setting aside the\n resolutions. Disraeli at once abandoned them.\n\n M109 Two Branches Of The Policy\n\n 192 Lord Hartington's argument on the second reading shows how a\n resolution would have fared. _Hans._ 305, p. 610.\n\n_ 193 Hans._ 304, p. 1116.\n\n_ 194 Hans._ 304, p. 1190.\n\n M110 Important Resignations\n\n 195 Faint hopes were nourished that Mr. Bright might be induced to join,\n but there was unfortunately no ground for them. Mr. Whitbread was\n invited, but preferred to lend staunch and important support\n outside. Lord Dalhousie, one of the truest hearts that ever was\n attracted to public life, too early lost to his country, took the\n Scottish secretaryship, not in the cabinet.\n\n M111 Mr. Parnell\n M112 The Bill On The Anvil\n\n 196 See Appendix.\n\n M113 Forces For And Against\n M114 Scene In Parliament\n M115 Character Of The Debate\n\n 197 First reading, April 13. Motion made for second reading and\n amendment, May 10. Land bill introduced and first reading, April 16.\n\n 198 April 9, May 10.\n\n M116 Stroke And Counter-Stroke\n\n_ 199 Hans._ 304, pp. 1204-6.\n\n M117 Lord Salisbury\n\n_ 200 Hans._ 306, p. 697.\n\n_ 201 Hans._ 304, p. 1202.\n\n 202 May 15, 1886.\n\n 203 See for instance, _Irish Times_, May 8, and _Belfast Newsletter_,\n May 17, 18, 21, 1886.\n\n_ 204 Hans._ 304, p. 1134. Also 305, p. 1252.\n\n 205 When the bill was practically settled, he asked if he might have a\n draft of the main provisions, for communication to half a dozen of\n his confidential colleagues. After some demur, the Irish secretary\n consented, warning him of the damaging consequences of any premature\n divulgation. The draft was duly returned, and not a word leaked out.\n Some time afterwards Mr. Parnell recalled the incident to me. \"Three\n of the men to whom I showed the draft were newspaper men, and they\n were poor men, and any newspaper would have given them a thousand\n pounds for it. No very wonderful virtue, you may say. But how many\n of your House of Commons would believe it?\"\n\n 206 For this point, see the _Times_ report of the famous proceedings in\n Committee-room Fifteen, collected in the volume entitled _The\n Parnellite Split_ (1891).\n\n M118 Subterranean Activity\n M119 Strength And Weakness\n M120 Correspondence With Mr. Bright\n\n 207 Letter to Mr. T. H. Bolton, M.P. _Times_, May 8, 1886.\n\n_ 208 Hans._ 306, p. 698.\n\n M121 Few Secondary Arguments\n\n_ 209 Hans._ 306, p. 1218.\n\n 210 In the end exactly 93 liberals did vote against the bill.\n\n M122 Party Meeting\n\n_ 211 Hans._ 306, p. 322.\n\n M123 Death-Warrant Of The Bill\n M124 End Of The Debate\n M125 Dissolution Of Parliament\n M126 At Edinburgh\n\n 212 He was returned without opposition.\n\n M127 Cabinet Resign\n M128 At Tegernsee\n\n 213 On the Irish Question.--\"The History of an Idea and the Lesson of the\n Elections,\" a fifty-page pamphlet prepared before leaving England.\n\n_ 214 Speaker_, Jan. 1, 1890.\n\n_ 215 Conversations of Doellinger._ By L. von Koebell, pp. 100, 102.\n\n_ 216 Nineteenth Century_, January 1887. See also speech at Hawarden, on\n the Queen's Reign, August 30, 1887. The reader will remember Mr.\n Gladstone's contrast between poet and active statesman at Kirkwall\n in 1883.\n\n_ 217 Robert Elsmere: the Battle of Belief_ (1888). Republished from the\n _Nineteenth Century_ in _Later Gleanings_, 1898.\n\n 218 May 2, 1888.\n\n M129 Dissentient Position\n\n 219 See vol. i. p. 423.\n\n 220 Sir W. Harcourt, Mr. Chamberlain, Lord Herschell, Sir George\n Trevelyan, and myself.\n\n M130 Round Table Conference\n\n 221 See speeches at Hawick, Jan. 22, and at Birmingham, Jan. 29, 1887.\n\n_ 222 Baptist_ article, in _Times_, Feb. 25, 1887.\n\n 223 If anybody should ever wish further to disinter the history of this\n fruitless episode, he will find all the details in a speech by Sir\n William Harcourt at Derby, Feb, 27, 1889. See also Sir G. O.\n Trevelyan, _Times_, July 26, 1887, Mr. Chamberlain's letter to Mr.\n Evelyn Ashley, _Times_, July 29, 1887, and a speech of my own at\n Wolverhampton, April 19, 1887.\n\n M131 State Of Ireland\n\n_ 224 Hans._ 309, Sept. 21, 1886.\n\n 225 See _United Ireland_, Oct. 23, 1886.\n\n M132 Plan Of Campaign\n\n 226 Lord Randolph had encouraged a plan of campaign in Ulster against\n home rule.\n\n 227 Speech at the Memorial Hall, July 29, 1887.\n\n 228 Report, p. 8, sect. 15.\n\n_ 229 Freeman_, Jan. 1887.\n\n 230 Questions 16, 473-5.\n\n M133 Ministerial Vacillations\n\n_ 231 Hans._ August 19, 1886.\n\n_ 232 Ibid._ 313, March 22, 1887.\n\n_ 233 Ibid._ 312, April 22, 1887.\n\n M134 Singular Operations\n\n 234 Speech on Criminal Law Amendment (Ireland) bill, March 29, 1887.\n\n 235 This vital feature of the bill was discussed in the report stage, on\n a motion limiting the operation of the Act to three years. June 27,\n 1887. _Hans._ 316, p. 1013. The clause was rejected by 180 to 119,\n or a majority of 61.\n\n 236 See Palles, C. B., in Walsh's case. _Judgments of Superior Courts in\n cases under the Criminal Law and Procedure Amendment Act_, 1887, p.\n 110.\n\n M135 New Crimes Act\n M136 First Guillotine Closure\n\n 237 On September 9, 1887.\n\n M137 Mitchelstown\n\n 238 Sept. 12, 1887. _Hans._ 321, p. 327.\n\n M138 Intervention From Rome\n\n 239 Dec. 3, 1888. _Hans._ 331, p. 916.\n\n 240 May 8, 1888.\n\n M139 At Sandringham And Windsor\n\n_ 241 Tablet_, Jan. 5, 1889.\n\n_ 242 Iliad_, X. 317. See _Homer and Homeric Age_, iii. 467 n.\n\n 243 House of Lords, August 10, 1888.\n\n M140 The Facsimile Letter\n\n 244 Here is the text of this once famous piece:--\n\n '15/5/82.\n\n \"DEAR SIR,--I am not surprised at your friend's anger, but he and you\n should know that to denounce the murders was the only course open to\n us. To do that promptly was plainly our best policy. But you can\n tell him and all others concerned, that though I regret the accident\n of Lord F. Cavendish's death, I cannot refuse to admit that Burke\n got no more than his deserts. You are at liberty to show him this,\n and others whom you can trust also, but let not my address be known.\n He can write to the House of Commons.--Yours very truly,\n\n \"CHAS. S. PARNELL.\"\n\n 245 The three judges held this to be a correct interpretation of the\n language used in the article of March 10th, 1887. Report, pp. 57-8.\n\n 246 April 20, 1887.\n\n M141 Demand For A Committee\n\n_ 247 Hans._ July 12, 1888, p. 1102.\n\n_ 248 Hans._ July 16, p. 1410.\n\n_ 249 Hans._ July 16, 1888, p. 1495.\n\n M142 The Bill\n\n_ 250 Hans._ 329, July 23, 1888, p. 263.\n\n M143 The Tribunal Opened\n\n_ 251 Hans._ Aug. 2, 1888, p. 1282.\n\n_ 252 Report_, p. 5.\n\n_ 253 Hans._ 342, p. 1357.\n\n M144 Proceedings In Court\n\n_ 254 Evidence_, iv. p. 219.\n\n 255 The common-sense view of the employment of such a man seems to be\n set out in the speech of Sir Henry James (Cassell and Co.), pp.\n 149-51, and 494-5.\n\n M145 The Letters Reached\n\n 256 Feb. 24, 1889. _Evidence_, vi. p. 20.\n\n M146 The Forgeries Exploded\n M147 On The Report\n\n 257 See above, vol. iii. p. 56.\n\n M148 On The Report\n\n 258 \"The Triple Alliance and Italy's Place in It.\" By Outidanos.\n _Contemporary Review_, October 1889. See Appendix.\n\n M149 Blessings Of The Home\n\n 259 See above, vol. i. pp. 99, 568.\n\n 260 Third Part, vol. i. p. 62.\n\n 261 Vol. i. p. 206.\n\n 262 These articles appeared in _Good Words_ (March-November 1900), and\n were subsequently published in volume form under the title of _The\n Impregnable Rock of Holy Scripture_.\n\n_ 263 Speaker_, Aug. 30, 1890.\n\n_ 264 Inf._ v. 98: \"Where Po descends for rest with his tributary\n streams.\"\n\n_ 265 Od._ xx. 82.\n\n 266 Mr. Hanbury, August 1, 1889. _Hans._ 339, p. 98.\n\n 267 At Birmingham, July 30, 1889.\n\n_ 268 E.g._ _Northern Whig_, February 21, 1889.\n\n M150 Advance Of Home Rule\n\n 269 Mr. Balfour at Manchester. _Times_, October 21, 1889.\n\n 270 October 22, 1890.\n\n 271 See Mr. Roby's speech at the Manchester Reform Club, Oct. 24, and\n articles in _Manchester Guardian_, Oct. 16 and 25, 1890. The _Times_\n (Oct. 23), while denying the inference that the Irish question was\n the question most prominent in the minds of large numbers of the\n electors, admitted that this was the vital question really before\n the constituency, and says generally, \"The election, like so many\n other bye-elections, has been decided by the return to their party\n allegiance of numbers of Gladstonians who in 1886 absented\n themselves from the polling booths.\"\n\n M151 The Catastrophe\n\n 272 \"That the effect of this trial will be to relegate Mr. Parnell for a\n time, at any rate, to private life, must we think be assumed....\n Special exemptions from penalties which should apply to all public\n men alike cannot possibly be made in favour of exceptionally\n valuable politicians to suit the convenience of their parties. He\n must cease, for the present at any rate, to lead the nationalist\n party; and conscious as we are of the loss our opponents will\n sustain by his resignation, we trust that they will believe us when\n we say that we are in no mood to exult in it.... It is no\n satisfaction to us to feel that a political adversary whose\n abilities and prowess it was impossible not to respect, has been\n overthrown by irrelevant accident, wholly unconnected with the\n struggle in which we are engaged.\"--_Daily Telegraph_, Nov. 17, 1890.\n\n M152 Opinion In Ireland\n\n 273 Speech at Retford, Dec. 11, 1890. _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act I. Sc.\n 2.\n\n M153 Judgments In Great Britain\n\n 274 Lord Granville, Sir W. Harcourt, Mr. Arnold Morley, and myself.\n\n M154 The Liberal Leaders\n M155 The Irish Leader Obdurate\n\n 275 If anybody cares to follow all this up, he may read a speech of Mr.\n Parnell's at Kells, Aug. 16, 1891, and a full reply of mine sent to\n the press, Aug. 17.\n\n M156 Mr. Parnell's Decision\n\n 276 On the day after leaving Hawarden Mr. Parnell spoke at Liverpool,\n calling on Lancashire to rally to their \"grand old leader.\" \"My\n countrymen rejoice,\" he said, \"for we are on the safe path to our\n legitimate freedom and our future prosperity.\" December 19, 1889.\n\n 277 See _The Parnell Split_, reprinted from the _Times_ in 1891.\n Especially also _The Story of Room 15_, by Donal Sullivan, M.P., the\n accuracy of which seems not to have been challenged.\n\n M157 Committee Room Fifteen\n M158 The Irish Bishops\n M159 Break-Up Of The Irish Party\n\n 278 The case for the change of mind which induced the majority who had\n elected Mr. Parnell to the chair less than a fortnight before, now\n to depose him, was clearly put by Mr. Sexton at a later date. To the\n considerations adduced by him nobody has ever made a serious\n political answer. The reader will find Mr. Sexton's argument in the\n reports of these proceedings already referred to.\n\n_ 279 Od._ xi. 200. \"It was not sickness that came upon me; it was\n wearying for thee and thy lost counsels, glorious Odysseus, and for\n all thy gentle kindness, this it was that broke the heart within\n me.\"\n\n 280 Hor. _Carm._ i. 24.\n\n M160 Severe Ordeal\n\n 281 December 23, 1890.\n\n 282 April 3, 1891.\n\n 283 July 8, 1891.\n\n M161 Death Of Mr. Parnell\n\n 284 October 6. He was in his forty-sixth year (_b._ June 1846), and had\n been sixteen years in parliament.\n\n 285 Vol. i. p. 387.\n\n 286 See above, vol. ii. p. 76.\n\n M162 At Newcastle\n\n 287 Once Mr. Gladstone presented him with a piece of plate, and set upon\n it one of those little Latin inscriptions to which he was so much\n addicted, and which must serve here instead of further commemoration\n of a remarkable friendship: Georgio Armitstead, Armigero, D.D. Gul.\n E. Gladstone. Amicitiae Benevolentiae Beneficiorum delatorum Valde\n memor Mense Augusti A.D., 1894.\n\n 288 Era gia l'ora, che volge 'l disio\n A' naviganti, e 'ntenerisce 'l cuore\n Lo di ch' han detto a' dolci amici addio, etc.\n\n _Purg._ viii.\n\n Byron's rendering is well enough known.\n\n M163 Opinions On Statesmen\n M164 Table-Talk\n\n 289 On some other occasion he set this against Macaulay's praise of a\n passage in Barrow mentioned above, ii. p. 536.\n\n M165 Table-Talk\n\n_ 290 Iliad_, ix. 32.\n\n M166 Ecclesiastical\n M167 Fuentarabia\n\n 291 {~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}, {~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA WITH VARIA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER THETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER BETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH DASIA AND OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER DELTA~}{~GREEK KORONIS~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER MU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER IOTA WITH OXIA~},\n {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER LAMDA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH PSILI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH VARIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER FINAL SIGMA~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER PI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER GAMMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ALPHA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER NU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON~} {~GREEK SMALL LETTER CHI~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER ETA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER SIGMA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER TAU~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER EPSILON WITH OXIA~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER RHO~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER OMICRON~}{~GREEK SMALL LETTER UPSILON~}.\n\n \"Ask not, mariner, whose tomb I am here, but be thine own fortune a\n kinder sea.\"--MACKAIL.\n\n M168 Disenchantment A Mistake\n M169 Table-Talk\n\n 292 I have not succeeded in hitting on the passage in the _History_.\n\n M170 Payment Of Members\n M171 At Bayonne\n\n 293 Boswell, March 21, 1776. Repeated, with a very remarkable\n qualification, Sept. 19, 1777. Birkbeck Hill's edition, iii. p. 162.\n\n_ 294 Carm._ iii. 5.\n\n M172 Table-Talk\n M173 Table-Talk\n\n_ 295 Translations by Lyttelton and Gladstone_, p. 166.\n\n M174 Table-Talk\n\n 296 Thou shalt possess thy soul without care among the living, and\n lighter when thou goest to the place where most are.\n\n M175 Conversations\n\n 297 See Appendix, Hor. _Carm._ i. 12, 25.\n\n M176 Question Of Undertaking Government\n\n 298 Lord Palmerston's government of 1859 was shorter by only a few days.\n\n M177 The Cabinet\n\n 299 Here is the Fourth Cabinet:--\n\n _First lord of the treasury and privy seal_, W. E. Gladstone.\n _Lord chancellor_, Lord Herschell.\n _President of the council and Indian secretary_, Earl of Kimberley.\n _Chancellor of the exchequer_, Sir W. V. Harcourt.\n _Home secretary_, H. H. Asquith.\n _Foreign secretary_, Earl of Rosebery.\n _Colonial secretary_, Marquis of Ripon.\n _Secretary for war_, H. Campbell-Bannerman.\n _First lord of the admiralty_, Earl Spencer.\n _Chief secretary for Ireland_, John Morley.\n _Secretary for Scotland_, Sir G. O. Trevelyan.\n _President of the board of trade_, A. J. Mundella.\n _President of the local government board_, H. H. Fowler.\n _Chancellor of the duchy of Lancaster_, James Bryce.\n _Postmaster-general_, Arnold Morley.\n _First commissioner of works_, J. G. Shaw Lefevre.\n _Vice-president of the council_, A. H. D. Acland.\n\n 300 See Mr. Gladstone's speeches and answers to questions in the House\n of Commons, Jan. 1, Feb. 3, and May 1, 1893. See also the French\n Yellow Book for 1893, for M. Waddington's despatches of Nov. 1,\n 1892, May 5, 1893, and Feb. 1, 1893.\n\n M178 Preparation Of The Bill\n\n 301 I hope I am not betraying a cabinet secret if I mention that this\n committee was composed of Mr. Gladstone, Lord Spencer, Lord\n Herschell, Mr. Campbell-Bannermann, Mr. Bryce, and myself.\n\n 302 See above, p. 386.\n\n M179 Achievements In Debate\n\n 303 One poor biographic item perhaps the tolerant reader will not grudge\n me leave to copy from Mr. Gladstone's diary:--\"_October 6, 1892._ Saw\n J. Morley and made him envoy to ----. He is on the whole ... about the\n best stay I have.\"\n\n M180 Obstruction\n M181 The Guillotine\n M182 Question Of Dissolution\n\n 304 See above, ii. p. 241.\n\n 305 See Appendix for further elucidation.\n\n M183 Again At Biarritz\n M184 Last Cabinet\n\n 306 Above, p. 130.\n\n M185 Last Audience\n\n 307 Written down, March 5.\n\n 308 Dr. Carlyle's translation.\n\n_ 309 Inferno_, xxvii. 81.\n\n 310 On July 1, 1895, he announced his formal withdrawal in a letter to\n Sir John Cowan, so long the loyal chairman of his electoral\n committee.\n\n 311 \"The Place of Heresy and Schism in the Modern Christian Church\" and\n \"The True and False Conception of the Atonement.\"\n\n_ 312 Letter to the Duke of Westminster._\n\n M186 Last Meeting With The Queen\n\n 313 For the list see Appendix.\n\n_ 314 King John._\n\n M187 Last Illness\n M188 Parliamentary Tributes\n M189 His Summary Of The Period\n\n 315 Letter to Sir John Cowan, March 17, 1894.\n\n 316 July 1, 1895.\n\n M190 Leader, Not Follower\n\n 317 See vol. i. p. 457.\n\n M191 Achievements Compared\n\n 318 See _Guardian_, Feb. 25, 1874.\n\n M192 Attitude To Church Parties\n\n 319 iii. p. 396.\n\n 320 For instance, Geddes, _Problem of the Homeric Poems_, 1878, p. 16.\n\n M193 On Homer\n\n 321 Pattison, ii. p. 166.\n\n_ 322 Gleanings_, ii. p. 147.\n\n_ 323 Life_, i. p. 398.\n\n M194 Leopardi Translations\n\n_ 324 Gleanings_, ii. p. 129.\n\n M195 A Golden Lamp\n\n 325 Telegram of April 4.\n\n 326 Despatch, March 9.\n\n 327 Power, p. 73 A.\n\n_ 328 Ibid._ 75 B.\n\n 329 Egypt, No. 18, p. 34, 1884 (April); Egypt, No. 35, p. 122 (July 30).\n\n M196 Home Rule Bill, 1886\n M197 Naval Estimates Of 1894\n\n\n\n\n\n***"} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nALEXANDER'S BRIDGE\n\nby Willa Cather\n\n\n\n\nALEXANDER'S BRIDGE by Willa Cather\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\nLate one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the\nhead of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man\nof taste who does not very often get to Boston. He had lived there as a\nstudent, but for twenty years and more, since he had been Professor of\nPhilosophy in a Western university, he had seldom come East except to\ntake a steamer for some foreign port. Wilson was standing quite still,\ncontemplating with a whimsical smile the slanting street, with its worn\npaving, its irregular, gravely colored houses, and the row of naked\ntrees on which the thin sunlight was still shining. The gleam of the\nriver at the foot of the hill made him blink a little, not so much\nbecause it was too bright as because he found it so pleasant. The few\npassers-by glanced at him unconcernedly, and even the children who\nhurried along with their school-bags under their arms seemed to find it\nperfectly natural that a tall brown gentleman should be standing there,\nlooking up through his glasses at the gray housetops.\n\nThe sun sank rapidly; the silvery light had faded from the bare boughs\nand the watery twilight was setting in when Wilson at last walked down\nthe hill, descending into cooler and cooler depths of grayish shadow.\nHis nostril, long unused to it, was quick to detect the smell of wood\nsmoke in the air, blended with the odor of moist spring earth and the\nsaltiness that came up the river with the tide. He crossed Charles\nStreet between jangling street cars and shelving lumber drays, and after\na moment of uncertainty wound into Brimmer Street. The street was quiet,\ndeserted, and hung with a thin bluish haze. He had already fixed his\nsharp eye upon the house which he reasoned should be his objective\npoint, when he noticed a woman approaching rapidly from the opposite\ndirection. Always an interested observer of women, Wilson would have\nslackened his pace anywhere to follow this one with his impersonal,\nappreciative glance. She was a person of distinction he saw at once,\nand, moreover, very handsome. She was tall, carried her beautiful head\nproudly, and moved with ease and certainty. One immediately took for\ngranted the costly privileges and fine spaces that must lie in the\nbackground from which such a figure could emerge with this rapid and\nelegant gait. Wilson noted her dress, too,--for, in his way, he had an\neye for such things,--particularly her brown furs and her hat. He got\na blurred impression of her fine color, the violets she wore, her white\ngloves, and, curiously enough, of her veil, as she turned up a flight of\nsteps in front of him and disappeared.\n\nWilson was able to enjoy lovely things that passed him on the wing as\ncompletely and deliberately as if they had been dug-up marvels, long\nanticipated, and definitely fixed at the end of a railway journey. For\na few pleasurable seconds he quite forgot where he was going, and only\nafter the door had closed behind her did he realize that the young woman\nhad entered the house to which he had directed his trunk from the South\nStation that morning. He hesitated a moment before mounting the steps.\n\"Can that,\" he murmured in amazement,--\"can that possibly have been Mrs.\nAlexander?\"\n\nWhen the servant admitted him, Mrs. Alexander was still standing in the\nhallway. She heard him give his name, and came forward holding out her\nhand.\n\n\"Is it you, indeed, Professor Wilson? I was afraid that you might get\nhere before I did. I was detained at a concert, and Bartley telephoned\nthat he would be late. Thomas will show you your room. Had you rather\nhave your tea brought to you there, or will you have it down here with\nme, while we wait for Bartley?\"\n\nWilson was pleased to find that he had been the cause of her rapid walk,\nand with her he was even more vastly pleased than before. He followed\nher through the drawing-room into the library, where the wide back\nwindows looked out upon the garden and the sunset and a fine stretch\nof silver-colored river. A harp-shaped elm stood stripped against the\npale-colored evening sky, with ragged last year's birds' nests in its\nforks, and through the bare branches the evening star quivered in the\nmisty air. The long brown room breathed the peace of a rich and amply\nguarded quiet. Tea was brought in immediately and placed in front of the\nwood fire. Mrs. Alexander sat down in a high-backed chair and began to\npour it, while Wilson sank into a low seat opposite her and took his cup\nwith a great sense of ease and harmony and comfort.\n\n\"You have had a long journey, haven't you?\" Mrs. Alexander asked, after\nshowing gracious concern about his tea. \"And I am so sorry Bartley is\nlate. He's often tired when he's late. He flatters himself that it is\na little on his account that you have come to this Congress of\nPsychologists.\"\n\n\"It is,\" Wilson assented, selecting his muffin carefully; \"and I hope he\nwon't be tired tonight. But, on my own account, I'm glad to have a few\nmoments alone with you, before Bartley comes. I was somehow afraid that\nmy knowing him so well would not put me in the way of getting to know\nyou.\"\n\n\"That's very nice of you.\" She nodded at him above her cup and smiled,\nbut there was a little formal tightness in her tone which had not been\nthere when she greeted him in the hall.\n\nWilson leaned forward. \"Have I said something awkward? I live very far\nout of the world, you know. But I didn't mean that you would exactly\nfade dim, even if Bartley were here.\"\n\nMrs. Alexander laughed relentingly. \"Oh, I'm not so vain! How terribly\ndiscerning you are.\"\n\nShe looked straight at Wilson, and he felt that this quick, frank glance\nbrought about an understanding between them.\n\nHe liked everything about her, he told himself, but he particularly\nliked her eyes; when she looked at one directly for a moment they were\nlike a glimpse of fine windy sky that may bring all sorts of weather.\n\n\"Since you noticed something,\" Mrs. Alexander went on, \"it must have\nbeen a flash of the distrust I have come to feel whenever I meet any of\nthe people who knew Bartley when he was a boy. It is always as if they\nwere talking of someone I had never met. Really, Professor Wilson, it\nwould seem that he grew up among the strangest people. They usually say\nthat he has turned out very well, or remark that he always was a fine\nfellow. I never know what reply to make.\"\n\nWilson chuckled and leaned back in his chair, shaking his left foot\ngently. \"I expect the fact is that we none of us knew him very well,\nMrs. Alexander. Though I will say for myself that I was always confident\nhe'd do something extraordinary.\"\n\nMrs. Alexander's shoulders gave a slight movement, suggestive of\nimpatience. \"Oh, I should think that might have been a safe prediction.\nAnother cup, please?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank you. But predicting, in the case of boys, is not so easy as\nyou might imagine, Mrs. Alexander. Some get a bad hurt early and lose\ntheir courage; and some never get a fair wind. Bartley\"--he dropped his\nchin on the back of his long hand and looked at her admiringly--\"Bartley\ncaught the wind early, and it has sung in his sails ever since.\"\n\nMrs. Alexander sat looking into the fire with intent preoccupation, and\nWilson studied her half-averted face. He liked the suggestion of stormy\npossibilities in the proud curve of her lip and nostril. Without that,\nhe reflected, she would be too cold.\n\n\"I should like to know what he was really like when he was a boy. I\ndon't believe he remembers,\" she said suddenly. \"Won't you smoke, Mr.\nWilson?\"\n\nWilson lit a cigarette. \"No, I don't suppose he does. He was never\nintrospective. He was simply the most tremendous response to stimuli I\nhave ever known. We didn't know exactly what to do with him.\"\n\nA servant came in and noiselessly removed the tea-tray. Mrs. Alexander\nscreened her face from the firelight, which was beginning to throw\nwavering bright spots on her dress and hair as the dusk deepened.\n\n\"Of course,\" she said, \"I now and again hear stories about things that\nhappened when he was in college.\"\n\n\"But that isn't what you want.\" Wilson wrinkled his brows and looked at\nher with the smiling familiarity that had come about so quickly. \"What\nyou want is a picture of him, standing back there at the other end of\ntwenty years. You want to look down through my memory.\"\n\nShe dropped her hands in her lap. \"Yes, yes; that's exactly what I\nwant.\"\n\nAt this moment they heard the front door shut with a jar, and Wilson\nlaughed as Mrs. Alexander rose quickly. \"There he is. Away with\nperspective! No past, no future for Bartley; just the fiery moment. The\nonly moment that ever was or will be in the world!\"\n\nThe door from the hall opened, a voice called \"Winifred?\" hurriedly,\nand a big man came through the drawing-room with a quick, heavy tread,\nbringing with him a smell of cigar smoke and chill out-of-doors air.\nWhen Alexander reached the library door, he switched on the lights\nand stood six feet and more in the archway, glowing with strength\nand cordiality and rugged, blond good looks. There were other\nbridge-builders in the world, certainly, but it was always Alexander's\npicture that the Sunday Supplement men wanted, because he looked as a\ntamer of rivers ought to look. Under his tumbled sandy hair his head\nseemed as hard and powerful as a catapult, and his shoulders looked\nstrong enough in themselves to support a span of any one of his ten\ngreat bridges that cut the air above as many rivers.\n\n\nAfter dinner Alexander took Wilson up to his study. It was a large room\nover the library, and looked out upon the black river and the row of\nwhite lights along the Cambridge Embankment. The room was not at all\nwhat one might expect of an engineer's study. Wilson felt at once\nthe harmony of beautiful things that have lived long together without\nobtrusions of ugliness or change. It was none of Alexander's doing, of\ncourse; those warm consonances of color had been blending and mellowing\nbefore he was born. But the wonder was that he was not out of place\nthere,--that it all seemed to glow like the inevitable background for\nhis vigor and vehemence. He sat before the fire, his shoulders deep in\nthe cushions of his chair, his powerful head upright, his hair rumpled\nabove his broad forehead. He sat heavily, a cigar in his large, smooth\nhand, a flush of after-dinner color in his face, which wind and sun and\nexposure to all sorts of weather had left fair and clear-skinned.\n\n\"You are off for England on Saturday, Bartley, Mrs. Alexander tells me.\"\n\n\"Yes, for a few weeks only. There's a meeting of British engineers, and\nI'm doing another bridge in Canada, you know.\"\n\n\"Oh, every one knows about that. And it was in Canada that you met your\nwife, wasn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes, at Allway. She was visiting her great-aunt there. A most remarkable\nold lady. I was working with MacKeller then, an old Scotch engineer who\nhad picked me up in London and taken me back to Quebec with him. He had\nthe contract for the Allway Bridge, but before he began work on it he\nfound out that he was going to die, and he advised the committee to turn\nthe job over to me. Otherwise I'd never have got anything good so early.\nMacKeller was an old friend of Mrs. Pemberton, Winifred's aunt. He had\nmentioned me to her, so when I went to Allway she asked me to come to\nsee her. She was a wonderful old lady.\"\n\n\"Like her niece?\" Wilson queried.\n\nBartley laughed. \"She had been very handsome, but not in Winifred's way.\nWhen I knew her she was little and fragile, very pink and white, with\na splendid head and a face like fine old lace, somehow,--but perhaps I\nalways think of that because she wore a lace scarf on her hair. She had\nsuch a flavor of life about her. She had known Gordon and Livingstone\nand Beaconsfield when she was young,--every one. She was the first woman\nof that sort I'd ever known. You know how it is in the West,--old people\nare poked out of the way. Aunt Eleanor fascinated me as few young women\nhave ever done. I used to go up from the works to have tea with her, and\nsit talking to her for hours. It was very stimulating, for she couldn't\ntolerate stupidity.\"\n\n\"It must have been then that your luck began, Bartley,\" said Wilson,\nflicking his cigar ash with his long finger. \"It's curious, watching\nboys,\" he went on reflectively. \"I'm sure I did you justice in the\nmatter of ability. Yet I always used to feel that there was a weak spot\nwhere some day strain would tell. Even after you began to climb, I stood\ndown in the crowd and watched you with--well, not with confidence. The\nmore dazzling the front you presented, the higher your facade rose, the\nmore I expected to see a big crack zigzagging from top to bottom,\"--he\nindicated its course in the air with his forefinger,--\"then a crash and\nclouds of dust. It was curious. I had such a clear picture of it. And\nanother curious thing, Bartley,\" Wilson spoke with deliberateness and\nsettled deeper into his chair, \"is that I don't feel it any longer. I am\nsure of you.\"\n\nAlexander laughed. \"Nonsense! It's not I you feel sure of; it's\nWinifred. People often make that mistake.\"\n\n\"No, I'm serious, Alexander. You've changed. You have decided to leave\nsome birds in the bushes. You used to want them all.\"\n\nAlexander's chair creaked. \"I still want a good many,\" he said rather\ngloomily. \"After all, life doesn't offer a man much. You work like the\ndevil and think you're getting on, and suddenly you discover that you've\nonly been getting yourself tied up. A million details drink you dry.\nYour life keeps going for things you don't want, and all the while\nyou are being built alive into a social structure you don't care a rap\nabout. I sometimes wonder what sort of chap I'd have been if I hadn't\nbeen this sort; I want to go and live out his potentialities, too. I\nhaven't forgotten that there are birds in the bushes.\"\n\nBartley stopped and sat frowning into the fire, his shoulders thrust\nforward as if he were about to spring at something. Wilson watched him,\nwondering. His old pupil always stimulated him at first, and then vastly\nwearied him. The machinery was always pounding away in this man, and\nWilson preferred companions of a more reflective habit of mind. He could\nnot help feeling that there were unreasoning and unreasonable activities\ngoing on in Alexander all the while; that even after dinner, when most\nmen achieve a decent impersonality, Bartley had merely closed the door\nof the engine-room and come up for an airing. The machinery itself was\nstill pounding on.\n\nBartley's abstraction and Wilson's reflections were cut short by a\nrustle at the door, and almost before they could rise Mrs. Alexander was\nstanding by the hearth. Alexander brought a chair for her, but she shook\nher head.\n\n\"No, dear, thank you. I only came in to see whether you and Professor\nWilson were quite comfortable. I am going down to the music-room.\"\n\n\"Why not practice here? Wilson and I are growing very dull. We are tired\nof talk.\"\n\n\"Yes, I beg you, Mrs. Alexander,\" Wilson began, but he got no further.\n\n\"Why, certainly, if you won't find me too noisy. I am working on the\nSchumann `Carnival,' and, though I don't practice a great many hours,\nI am very methodical,\" Mrs. Alexander explained, as she crossed to an\nupright piano that stood at the back of the room, near the windows.\n\nWilson followed, and, having seen her seated, dropped into a chair\nbehind her. She played brilliantly and with great musical feeling.\nWilson could not imagine her permitting herself to do anything badly,\nbut he was surprised at the cleanness of her execution. He wondered how\na woman with so many duties had managed to keep herself up to a standard\nreally professional. It must take a great deal of time, certainly, and\nBartley must take a great deal of time. Wilson reflected that he had\nnever before known a woman who had been able, for any considerable\nwhile, to support both a personal and an intellectual passion. Sitting\nbehind her, he watched her with perplexed admiration, shading his eyes\nwith his hand. In her dinner dress she looked even younger than in\nstreet clothes, and, for all her composure and self-sufficiency, she\nseemed to him strangely alert and vibrating, as if in her, too, there\nwere something never altogether at rest. He felt that he knew pretty\nmuch what she demanded in people and what she demanded from life, and he\nwondered how she squared Bartley. After ten years she must know him;\nand however one took him, however much one admired him, one had to admit\nthat he simply wouldn't square. He was a natural force, certainly, but\nbeyond that, Wilson felt, he was not anything very really or for very\nlong at a time.\n\nWilson glanced toward the fire, where Bartley's profile was still\nwreathed in cigar smoke that curled up more and more slowly. His\nshoulders were sunk deep in the cushions and one hand hung large and\npassive over the arm of his chair. He had slipped on a purple velvet\nsmoking-coat. His wife, Wilson surmised, had chosen it. She was clearly\nvery proud of his good looks and his fine color. But, with the glow of\nan immediate interest gone out of it, the engineer's face looked tired,\neven a little haggard. The three lines in his forehead, directly above\nthe nose, deepened as he sat thinking, and his powerful head drooped\nforward heavily. Although Alexander was only forty-three, Wilson thought\nthat beneath his vigorous color he detected the dulling weariness of\non-coming middle age.\n\n\nThe next afternoon, at the hour when the river was beginning to\nredden under the declining sun, Wilson again found himself facing Mrs.\nAlexander at the tea-table in the library.\n\n\"Well,\" he remarked, when he was bidden to give an account of himself,\n\"there was a long morning with the psychologists, luncheon with Bartley\nat his club, more psychologists, and here I am. I've looked forward to\nthis hour all day.\"\n\nMrs. Alexander smiled at him across the vapor from the kettle. \"And do\nyou remember where we stopped yesterday?\"\n\n\"Perfectly. I was going to show you a picture. But I doubt whether I\nhave color enough in me. Bartley makes me feel a faded monochrome. You\ncan't get at the young Bartley except by means of color.\" Wilson paused\nand deliberated. Suddenly he broke out: \"He wasn't a remarkable student,\nyou know, though he was always strong in higher mathematics. His work\nin my own department was quite ordinary. It was as a powerfully equipped\nnature that I found him interesting. That is the most interesting thing\na teacher can find. It has the fascination of a scientific discovery. We\ncome across other pleasing and endearing qualities so much oftener than\nwe find force.\"\n\n\"And, after all,\" said Mrs. Alexander, \"that is the thing we all live\nupon. It is the thing that takes us forward.\"\n\nWilson thought she spoke a little wistfully. \"Exactly,\" he assented\nwarmly. \"It builds the bridges into the future, over which the feet of\nevery one of us will go.\"\n\n\"How interested I am to hear you put it in that way. The bridges into\nthe future--I often say that to myself. Bartley's bridges always seem to\nme like that. Have you ever seen his first suspension bridge in Canada,\nthe one he was doing when I first knew him? I hope you will see it\nsometime. We were married as soon as it was finished, and you will laugh\nwhen I tell you that it always has a rather bridal look to me. It is\nover the wildest river, with mists and clouds always battling about it,\nand it is as delicate as a cobweb hanging in the sky. It really was\na bridge into the future. You have only to look at it to feel that it\nmeant the beginning of a great career. But I have a photograph of it\nhere.\" She drew a portfolio from behind a bookcase. \"And there, you see,\non the hill, is my aunt's house.\"\n\nWilson took up the photograph. \"Bartley was telling me something about\nyour aunt last night. She must have been a delightful person.\"\n\nWinifred laughed. \"The bridge, you see, was just at the foot of the\nhill, and the noise of the engines annoyed her very much at first. But\nafter she met Bartley she pretended to like it, and said it was a good\nthing to be reminded that there were things going on in the world. She\nloved life, and Bartley brought a great deal of it in to her when\nhe came to the house. Aunt Eleanor was very worldly in a frank,\nEarly-Victorian manner. She liked men of action, and disliked young\nmen who were careful of themselves and who, as she put it, were always\ntrimming their wick as if they were afraid of their oil's giving out.\nMacKeller, Bartley's first chief, was an old friend of my aunt, and\nhe told her that Bartley was a wild, ill-governed youth, which really\npleased her very much. I remember we were sitting alone in the dusk\nafter Bartley had been there for the first time. I knew that Aunt\nEleanor had found him much to her taste, but she hadn't said anything.\nPresently she came out, with a chuckle: `MacKeller found him sowing\nwild oats in London, I believe. I hope he didn't stop him too soon. Life\ncoquets with dashing fellows. The coming men are always like that. We\nmust have him to dinner, my dear.' And we did. She grew much fonder\nof Bartley than she was of me. I had been studying in Vienna, and she\nthought that absurd. She was interested in the army and in politics, and\nshe had a great contempt for music and art and philosophy. She used to\ndeclare that the Prince Consort had brought all that stuff over out of\nGermany. She always sniffed when Bartley asked me to play for him. She\nconsidered that a newfangled way of making a match of it.\"\n\nWhen Alexander came in a few moments later, he found Wilson and his wife\nstill confronting the photograph. \"Oh, let us get that out of the way,\"\nhe said, laughing. \"Winifred, Thomas can bring my trunk down. I've\ndecided to go over to New York to-morrow night and take a fast boat. I\nshall save two days.\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nOn the night of his arrival in London, Alexander went immediately to the\nhotel on the Embankment at which he always stopped, and in the lobby he\nwas accosted by an old acquaintance, Maurice Mainhall, who fell upon him\nwith effusive cordiality and indicated a willingness to dine with him.\nBartley never dined alone if he could help it, and Mainhall was a good\ngossip who always knew what had been going on in town; especially, he\nknew everything that was not printed in the newspapers. The nephew of\none of the standard Victorian novelists, Mainhall bobbed about among the\nvarious literary cliques of London and its outlying suburbs, careful to\nlose touch with none of them. He had written a number of books himself;\namong them a \"History of Dancing,\" a \"History of Costume,\" a \"Key to\nShakespeare's Sonnets,\" a study of \"The Poetry of Ernest Dowson,\" etc.\nAlthough Mainhall's enthusiasm was often tiresome, and although he was\noften unable to distinguish between facts and vivid figments of his\nimagination, his imperturbable good nature overcame even the people whom\nhe bored most, so that they ended by becoming, in a reluctant manner,\nhis friends. In appearance, Mainhall was astonishingly like the\nconventional stage-Englishman of American drama: tall and thin, with\nhigh, hitching shoulders and a small head glistening with closely\nbrushed yellow hair. He spoke with an extreme Oxford accent, and when he\nwas talking well, his face sometimes wore the rapt expression of a very\nemotional man listening to music. Mainhall liked Alexander because he\nwas an engineer. He had preconceived ideas about everything, and his\nidea about Americans was that they should be engineers or mechanics. He\nhated them when they presumed to be anything else.\n\nWhile they sat at dinner Mainhall acquainted Bartley with the fortunes\nof his old friends in London, and as they left the table he proposed\nthat they should go to see Hugh MacConnell's new comedy, \"Bog Lights.\"\n\n\"It's really quite the best thing MacConnell's done,\" he explained as\nthey got into a hansom. \"It's tremendously well put on, too. Florence\nMerrill and Cyril Henderson. But Hilda Burgoyne's the hit of the piece.\nHugh's written a delightful part for her, and she's quite inexpressible.\nIt's been on only two weeks, and I've been half a dozen times already.\nI happen to have MacConnell's box for tonight or there'd be no chance of\nour getting places. There's everything in seeing Hilda while she's fresh\nin a part. She's apt to grow a bit stale after a time. The ones who have\nany imagination do.\"\n\n\"Hilda Burgoyne!\" Alexander exclaimed mildly. \"Why, I haven't heard of\nher for--years.\"\n\nMainhall laughed. \"Then you can't have heard much at all, my dear\nAlexander. It's only lately, since MacConnell and his set have got hold\nof her, that she's come up. Myself, I always knew she had it in her. If\nwe had one real critic in London--but what can one expect? Do you know,\nAlexander,\"--Mainhall looked with perplexity up into the top of the\nhansom and rubbed his pink cheek with his gloved finger,--\"do you know,\nI sometimes think of taking to criticism seriously myself. In a way, it\nwould be a sacrifice; but, dear me, we do need some one.\"\n\nJust then they drove up to the Duke of York's, so Alexander did not\ncommit himself, but followed Mainhall into the theatre. When they\nentered the stage-box on the left the first act was well under way, the\nscene being the interior of a cabin in the south of Ireland. As they sat\ndown, a burst of applause drew Alexander's attention to the stage. Miss\nBurgoyne and her donkey were thrusting their heads in at the half door.\n\"After all,\" he reflected, \"there's small probability of her recognizing\nme. She doubtless hasn't thought of me for years.\" He felt the\nenthusiasm of the house at once, and in a few moments he was caught up\nby the current of MacConnell's irresistible comedy. The audience\nhad come forewarned, evidently, and whenever the ragged slip of a\ndonkey-girl ran upon the stage there was a deep murmur of approbation,\nevery one smiled and glowed, and Mainhall hitched his heavy chair a\nlittle nearer the brass railing.\n\n\"You see,\" he murmured in Alexander's ear, as the curtain fell on\nthe first act, \"one almost never sees a part like that done without\nsmartness or mawkishness. Of course, Hilda is Irish,--the Burgoynes have\nbeen stage people for generations,--and she has the Irish voice. It's\ndelightful to hear it in a London theatre. That laugh, now, when she\ndoubles over at the hips--who ever heard it out of Galway? She saves\nher hand, too. She's at her best in the second act. She's really\nMacConnell's poetic motif, you see; makes the whole thing a fairy tale.\"\n\nThe second act opened before Philly Doyle's underground still, with\nPeggy and her battered donkey come in to smuggle a load of potheen\nacross the bog, and to bring Philly word of what was doing in the world\nwithout, and of what was happening along the roadsides and ditches with\nthe first gleam of fine weather. Alexander, annoyed by Mainhall's sighs\nand exclamations, watched her with keen, half-skeptical interest. As\nMainhall had said, she was the second act; the plot and feeling alike\ndepended upon her lightness of foot, her lightness of touch, upon the\nshrewdness and deft fancifulness that played alternately, and sometimes\ntogether, in her mirthful brown eyes. When she began to dance, by way of\nshowing the gossoons what she had seen in the fairy rings at night, the\nhouse broke into a prolonged uproar. After her dance she withdrew from\nthe dialogue and retreated to the ditch wall back of Philly's burrow,\nwhere she sat singing \"The Rising of the Moon\" and making a wreath of\nprimroses for her donkey.\n\nWhen the act was over Alexander and Mainhall strolled out into the\ncorridor. They met a good many acquaintances; Mainhall, indeed, knew\nalmost every one, and he babbled on incontinently, screwing his small\nhead about over his high collar. Presently he hailed a tall, bearded\nman, grim-browed and rather battered-looking, who had his opera cloak\non his arm and his hat in his hand, and who seemed to be on the point of\nleaving the theatre.\n\n\"MacConnell, let me introduce Mr. Bartley Alexander. I say! It's going\nfamously to-night, Mac. And what an audience! You'll never do anything\nlike this again, mark me. A man writes to the top of his bent only\nonce.\"\n\nThe playwright gave Mainhall a curious look out of his deep-set faded\neyes and made a wry face. \"And have I done anything so fool as that,\nnow?\" he asked.\n\n\"That's what I was saying,\" Mainhall lounged a little nearer and dropped\ninto a tone even more conspicuously confidential. \"And you'll never\nbring Hilda out like this again. Dear me, Mac, the girl couldn't\npossibly be better, you know.\"\n\nMacConnell grunted. \"She'll do well enough if she keeps her pace and\ndoesn't go off on us in the middle of the season, as she's more than\nlike to do.\"\n\nHe nodded curtly and made for the door, dodging acquaintances as he\nwent.\n\n\"Poor old Hugh,\" Mainhall murmured. \"He's hit terribly hard. He's been\nwanting to marry Hilda these three years and more. She doesn't take up\nwith anybody, you know. Irene Burgoyne, one of her family, told me in\nconfidence that there was a romance somewhere back in the beginning. One\nof your countrymen, Alexander, by the way; an American student whom she\nmet in Paris, I believe. I dare say it's quite true that there's never\nbeen any one else.\" Mainhall vouched for her constancy with a loftiness\nthat made Alexander smile, even while a kind of rapid excitement was\ntingling through him. Blinking up at the lights, Mainhall added in\nhis luxurious, worldly way: \"She's an elegant little person, and quite\ncapable of an extravagant bit of sentiment like that. Here comes Sir\nHarry Towne. He's another who's awfully keen about her. Let me introduce\nyou. Sir Harry Towne, Mr. Bartley Alexander, the American engineer.\"\n\nSir Harry Towne bowed and said that he had met Mr. Alexander and his\nwife in Tokyo.\n\nMainhall cut in impatiently.\n\n\"I say, Sir Harry, the little girl's going famously to-night, isn't\nshe?\"\n\nSir Harry wrinkled his brows judiciously. \"Do you know, I thought the\ndance a bit conscious to-night, for the first time. The fact is, she's\nfeeling rather seedy, poor child. Westmere and I were back after the\nfirst act, and we thought she seemed quite uncertain of herself. A\nlittle attack of nerves, possibly.\"\n\nHe bowed as the warning bell rang, and Mainhall whispered: \"You know\nLord Westmere, of course,--the stooped man with the long gray mustache,\ntalking to Lady Dowle. Lady Westmere is very fond of Hilda.\"\n\nWhen they reached their box the house was darkened and the orchestra\nwas playing \"The Cloak of Old Gaul.\" In a moment Peggy was on the stage\nagain, and Alexander applauded vigorously with the rest. He even leaned\nforward over the rail a little. For some reason he felt pleased and\nflattered by the enthusiasm of the audience. In the half-light he looked\nabout at the stalls and boxes and smiled a little consciously, recalling\nwith amusement Sir Harry's judicial frown. He was beginning to feel a\nkeen interest in the slender, barefoot donkey-girl who slipped in and\nout of the play, singing, like some one winding through a hilly field.\nHe leaned forward and beamed felicitations as warmly as Mainhall himself\nwhen, at the end of the play, she came again and again before the\ncurtain, panting a little and flushed, her eyes dancing and her eager,\nnervous little mouth tremulous with excitement.\n\nWhen Alexander returned to his hotel--he shook Mainhall at the door of\nthe theatre--he had some supper brought up to his room, and it was late\nbefore he went to bed. He had not thought of Hilda Burgoyne for years;\nindeed, he had almost forgotten her. He had last written to her from\nCanada, after he first met Winifred, telling her that everything was\nchanged with him--that he had met a woman whom he would marry if he\ncould; if he could not, then all the more was everything changed for\nhim. Hilda had never replied to his letter. He felt guilty and unhappy\nabout her for a time, but after Winifred promised to marry him he really\nforgot Hilda altogether. When he wrote her that everything was changed\nfor him, he was telling the truth. After he met Winifred Pemberton he\nseemed to himself like a different man. One night when he and Winifred\nwere sitting together on the bridge, he told her that things had\nhappened while he was studying abroad that he was sorry for,--one thing\nin particular,--and he asked her whether she thought she ought to know\nabout them. She considered a moment and then said \"No, I think not,\nthough I am glad you ask me. You see, one can't be jealous about things\nin general; but about particular, definite, personal things,\"--here\nshe had thrown her hands up to his shoulders with a quick, impulsive\ngesture--\"oh, about those I should be very jealous. I should torture\nmyself--I couldn't help it.\" After that it was easy to forget, actually\nto forget. He wondered to-night, as he poured his wine, how many times\nhe had thought of Hilda in the last ten years. He had been in London\nmore or less, but he had never happened to hear of her. \"All the same,\"\nhe lifted his glass, \"here's to you, little Hilda. You've made things\ncome your way, and I never thought you'd do it.\n\n\"Of course,\" he reflected, \"she always had that combination of something\nhomely and sensible, and something utterly wild and daft. But I never\nthought she'd do anything. She hadn't much ambition then, and she was\ntoo fond of trifles. She must care about the theatre a great deal more\nthan she used to. Perhaps she has me to thank for something, after\nall. Sometimes a little jolt like that does one good. She was a daft,\ngenerous little thing. I'm glad she's held her own since. After all,\nwe were awfully young. It was youth and poverty and proximity, and\neverything was young and kindly. I shouldn't wonder if she could laugh\nabout it with me now. I shouldn't wonder-- But they've probably spoiled\nher, so that she'd be tiresome if one met her again.\"\n\nBartley smiled and yawned and went to bed.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nThe next evening Alexander dined alone at a club, and at about nine\no'clock he dropped in at the Duke of York's. The house was sold out\nand he stood through the second act. When he returned to his hotel he\nexamined the new directory, and found Miss Burgoyne's address still\ngiven as off Bedford Square, though at a new number. He remembered that,\nin so far as she had been brought up at all, she had been brought up in\nBloomsbury. Her father and mother played in the provinces most of the\nyear, and she was left a great deal in the care of an old aunt who was\ncrippled by rheumatism and who had had to leave the stage altogether. In\nthe days when Alexander knew her, Hilda always managed to have a lodging\nof some sort about Bedford Square, because she clung tenaciously to such\nscraps and shreds of memories as were connected with it. The mummy\nroom of the British Museum had been one of the chief delights of her\nchildhood. That forbidding pile was the goal of her truant fancy, and\nshe was sometimes taken there for a treat, as other children are taken\nto the theatre. It was long since Alexander had thought of any of\nthese things, but now they came back to him quite fresh, and had a\nsignificance they did not have when they were first told him in his\nrestless twenties. So she was still in the old neighborhood, near\nBedford Square. The new number probably meant increased prosperity. He\nhoped so. He would like to know that she was snugly settled. He looked\nat his watch. It was a quarter past ten; she would not be home for a\ngood two hours yet, and he might as well walk over and have a look at\nthe place. He remembered the shortest way.\n\nIt was a warm, smoky evening, and there was a grimy moon. He went\nthrough Covent Garden to Oxford Street, and as he turned into Museum\nStreet he walked more slowly, smiling at his own nervousness as he\napproached the sullen gray mass at the end. He had not been inside the\nMuseum, actually, since he and Hilda used to meet there; sometimes\nto set out for gay adventures at Twickenham or Richmond, sometimes to\nlinger about the place for a while and to ponder by Lord Elgin's marbles\nupon the lastingness of some things, or, in the mummy room, upon the\nawful brevity of others. Since then Bartley had always thought of the\nBritish Museum as the ultimate repository of mortality, where all the\ndead things in the world were assembled to make one's hour of youth\nthe more precious. One trembled lest before he got out it might somehow\nescape him, lest he might drop the glass from over-eagerness and see it\nshivered on the stone floor at his feet. How one hid his youth under his\ncoat and hugged it! And how good it was to turn one's back upon all that\nvaulted cold, to take Hilda's arm and hurry out of the great door and\ndown the steps into the sunlight among the pigeons--to know that\nthe warm and vital thing within him was still there and had not been\nsnatched away to flush Caesar's lean cheek or to feed the veins of some\nbearded Assyrian king. They in their day had carried the flaming liquor,\nbut to-day was his! So the song used to run in his head those summer\nmornings a dozen years ago. Alexander walked by the place very quietly,\nas if he were afraid of waking some one.\n\nHe crossed Bedford Square and found the number he was looking for. The\nhouse, a comfortable, well-kept place enough, was dark except for the\nfour front windows on the second floor, where a low, even light was\nburning behind the white muslin sash curtains. Outside there were window\nboxes, painted white and full of flowers. Bartley was making a third\nround of the Square when he heard the far-flung hoof-beats of a\nhansom-cab horse, driven rapidly. He looked at his watch, and was\nastonished to find that it was a few minutes after twelve. He turned and\nwalked back along the iron railing as the cab came up to Hilda's number\nand stopped. The hansom must have been one that she employed regularly,\nfor she did not stop to pay the driver. She stepped out quickly and\nlightly. He heard her cheerful \"Good-night, cabby,\" as she ran up the\nsteps and opened the door with a latchkey. In a few moments the lights\nflared up brightly behind the white curtains, and as he walked away\nhe heard a window raised. But he had gone too far to look up without\nturning round. He went back to his hotel, feeling that he had had a good\nevening, and he slept well.\n\nFor the next few days Alexander was very busy. He took a desk in the\noffice of a Scotch engineering firm on Henrietta Street, and was at work\nalmost constantly. He avoided the clubs and usually dined alone at his\nhotel. One afternoon, after he had tea, he started for a walk down the\nEmbankment toward Westminster, intending to end his stroll at Bedford\nSquare and to ask whether Miss Burgoyne would let him take her to the\ntheatre. But he did not go so far. When he reached the Abbey, he turned\nback and crossed Westminster Bridge and sat down to watch the trails of\nsmoke behind the Houses of Parliament catch fire with the sunset. The\nslender towers were washed by a rain of golden light and licked by\nlittle flickering flames; Somerset House and the bleached gray pinnacles\nabout Whitehall were floated in a luminous haze. The yellow light poured\nthrough the trees and the leaves seemed to burn with soft fires. There\nwas a smell of acacias in the air everywhere, and the laburnums were\ndripping gold over the walls of the gardens. It was a sweet, lonely kind\nof summer evening. Remembering Hilda as she used to be, was doubtless\nmore satisfactory than seeing her as she must be now--and, after all,\nAlexander asked himself, what was it but his own young years that he was\nremembering?\n\nHe crossed back to Westminster, went up to the Temple, and sat down to\nsmoke in the Middle Temple gardens, listening to the thin voice of the\nfountain and smelling the spice of the sycamores that came out heavily\nin the damp evening air. He thought, as he sat there, about a great many\nthings: about his own youth and Hilda's; above all, he thought of how\nglorious it had been, and how quickly it had passed; and, when it had\npassed, how little worth while anything was. None of the things he had\ngained in the least compensated. In the last six years his reputation\nhad become, as the saying is, popular. Four years ago he had been called\nto Japan to deliver, at the Emperor's request, a course of lectures\nat the Imperial University, and had instituted reforms throughout the\nislands, not only in the practice of bridge-building but in drainage and\nroad-making. On his return he had undertaken the bridge at Moorlock,\nin Canada, the most important piece of bridge-building going on in\nthe world,--a test, indeed, of how far the latest practice in bridge\nstructure could be carried. It was a spectacular undertaking by reason\nof its very size, and Bartley realized that, whatever else he might do,\nhe would probably always be known as the engineer who designed the great\nMoorlock Bridge, the longest cantilever in existence. Yet it was to him\nthe least satisfactory thing he had ever done. He was cramped in every\nway by a niggardly commission, and was using lighter structural material\nthan he thought proper. He had vexations enough, too, with his work at\nhome. He had several bridges under way in the United States, and they\nwere always being held up by strikes and delays resulting from a general\nindustrial unrest.\n\nThough Alexander often told himself he had never put more into his work\nthan he had done in the last few years, he had to admit that he had\nnever got so little out of it. He was paying for success, too, in the\ndemands made on his time by boards of civic enterprise and committees\nof public welfare. The obligations imposed by his wife's fortune\nand position were sometimes distracting to a man who followed his\nprofession, and he was expected to be interested in a great many worthy\nendeavors on her account as well as on his own. His existence was\nbecoming a network of great and little details. He had expected that\nsuccess would bring him freedom and power; but it had brought only power\nthat was in itself another kind of restraint. He had always meant to\nkeep his personal liberty at all costs, as old MacKeller, his first\nchief, had done, and not, like so many American engineers, to become a\npart of a professional movement, a cautious board member, a Nestor de\npontibus. He happened to be engaged in work of public utility, but he\nwas not willing to become what is called a public man. He found himself\nliving exactly the kind of life he had determined to escape. What, he\nasked himself, did he want with these genial honors and substantial\ncomforts? Hardships and difficulties he had carried lightly; overwork\nhad not exhausted him; but this dead calm of middle life which\nconfronted him,--of that he was afraid. He was not ready for it. It was\nlike being buried alive. In his youth he would not have believed such a\nthing possible. The one thing he had really wanted all his life was to\nbe free; and there was still something unconquered in him, something\nbesides the strong work-horse that his profession had made of him. He\nfelt rich to-night in the possession of that unstultified survival;\nin the light of his experience, it was more precious than honors or\nachievement. In all those busy, successful years there had been nothing\nso good as this hour of wild light-heartedness. This feeling was the\nonly happiness that was real to him, and such hours were the only ones\nin which he could feel his own continuous identity--feel the boy he had\nbeen in the rough days of the old West, feel the youth who had worked\nhis way across the ocean on a cattle-ship and gone to study in Paris\nwithout a dollar in his pocket. The man who sat in his offices in Boston\nwas only a powerful machine. Under the activities of that machine the\nperson who, in such moments as this, he felt to be himself, was fading\nand dying. He remembered how, when he was a little boy and his father\ncalled him in the morning, he used to leap from his bed into the full\nconsciousness of himself. That consciousness was Life itself. Whatever\ntook its place, action, reflection, the power of concentrated thought,\nwere only functions of a mechanism useful to society; things that could\nbe bought in the market. There was only one thing that had an absolute\nvalue for each individual, and it was just that original impulse, that\ninternal heat, that feeling of one's self in one's own breast.\n\nWhen Alexander walked back to his hotel, the red and green lights were\nblinking along the docks on the farther shore, and the soft white stars\nwere shining in the wide sky above the river.\n\nThe next night, and the next, Alexander repeated this same foolish\nperformance. It was always Miss Burgoyne whom he started out to find,\nand he got no farther than the Temple gardens and the Embankment. It\nwas a pleasant kind of loneliness. To a man who was so little given\nto reflection, whose dreams always took the form of definite ideas,\nreaching into the future, there was a seductive excitement in renewing\nold experiences in imagination. He started out upon these walks half\nguiltily, with a curious longing and expectancy which were wholly\ngratified by solitude. Solitude, but not solitariness; for he walked\nshoulder to shoulder with a shadowy companion--not little Hilda\nBurgoyne, by any means, but some one vastly dearer to him than she had\never been--his own young self, the youth who had waited for him upon the\nsteps of the British Museum that night, and who, though he had tried to\npass so quietly, had known him and come down and linked an arm in his.\n\nIt was not until long afterward that Alexander learned that for him this\nyouth was the most dangerous of companions.\n\n\nOne Sunday evening, at Lady Walford's, Alexander did at last meet Hilda\nBurgoyne. Mainhall had told him that she would probably be there. He\nlooked about for her rather nervously, and finally found her at the\nfarther end of the large drawing-room, the centre of a circle of men,\nyoung and old. She was apparently telling them a story. They were\nall laughing and bending toward her. When she saw Alexander, she rose\nquickly and put out her hand. The other men drew back a little to let\nhim approach.\n\n\"Mr. Alexander! I am delighted. Have you been in London long?\"\n\nBartley bowed, somewhat laboriously, over her hand. \"Long enough to have\nseen you more than once. How fine it all is!\"\n\nShe laughed as if she were pleased. \"I'm glad you think so. I like it.\nWon't you join us here?\"\n\n\"Miss Burgoyne was just telling us about a donkey-boy she had in Galway\nlast summer,\" Sir Harry Towne explained as the circle closed up again.\nLord Westmere stroked his long white mustache with his bloodless hand\nand looked at Alexander blankly. Hilda was a good story-teller. She was\nsitting on the edge of her chair, as if she had alighted there for a\nmoment only. Her primrose satin gown seemed like a soft sheath for her\nslender, supple figure, and its delicate color suited her white Irish\nskin and brown hair. Whatever she wore, people felt the charm of her\nactive, girlish body with its slender hips and quick, eager shoulders.\nAlexander heard little of the story, but he watched Hilda intently. She\nmust certainly, he reflected, be thirty, and he was honestly delighted\nto see that the years had treated her so indulgently. If her face had\nchanged at all, it was in a slight hardening of the mouth--still eager\nenough to be very disconcerting at times, he felt--and in an added\nair of self-possession and self-reliance. She carried her head, too, a\nlittle more resolutely.\n\nWhen the story was finished, Miss Burgoyne turned pointedly to\nAlexander, and the other men drifted away.\n\n\"I thought I saw you in MacConnell's box with Mainhall one evening, but\nI supposed you had left town before this.\"\n\nShe looked at him frankly and cordially, as if he were indeed merely an\nold friend whom she was glad to meet again.\n\n\"No, I've been mooning about here.\"\n\nHilda laughed gayly. \"Mooning! I see you mooning! You must be the\nbusiest man in the world. Time and success have done well by you, you\nknow. You're handsomer than ever and you've gained a grand manner.\"\n\nAlexander blushed and bowed. \"Time and success have been good friends to\nboth of us. Aren't you tremendously pleased with yourself?\"\n\nShe laughed again and shrugged her shoulders. \"Oh, so-so. But I want to\nhear about you. Several years ago I read such a lot in the papers about\nthe wonderful things you did in Japan, and how the Emperor decorated\nyou. What was it, Commander of the Order of the Rising Sun? That sounds\nlike `The Mikado.' And what about your new bridge--in Canada, isn't it,\nand it's to be the longest one in the world and has some queer name I\ncan't remember.\"\n\nBartley shook his head and smiled drolly. \"Since when have you\nbeen interested in bridges? Or have you learned to be interested in\neverything? And is that a part of success?\"\n\n\"Why, how absurd! As if I were not always interested!\" Hilda exclaimed.\n\n\"Well, I think we won't talk about bridges here, at any rate.\" Bartley\nlooked down at the toe of her yellow slipper which was tapping the rug\nimpatiently under the hem of her gown. \"But I wonder whether you'd think\nme impertinent if I asked you to let me come to see you sometime and\ntell you about them?\"\n\n\"Why should I? Ever so many people come on Sunday afternoons.\"\n\n\"I know. Mainhall offered to take me. But you must know that I've been\nin London several times within the last few years, and you might very\nwell think that just now is a rather inopportune time--\"\n\nShe cut him short. \"Nonsense. One of the pleasantest things about\nsuccess is that it makes people want to look one up, if that's what you\nmean. I'm like every one else--more agreeable to meet when things are\ngoing well with me. Don't you suppose it gives me any pleasure to do\nsomething that people like?\"\n\n\"Does it? Oh, how fine it all is, your coming on like this! But I didn't\nwant you to think it was because of that I wanted to see you.\" He spoke\nvery seriously and looked down at the floor.\n\nHilda studied him in wide-eyed astonishment for a moment, and then\nbroke into a low, amused laugh. \"My dear Mr. Alexander, you have strange\ndelicacies. If you please, that is exactly why you wish to see me. We\nunderstand that, do we not?\"\n\nBartley looked ruffled and turned the seal ring on his little finger\nabout awkwardly.\n\nHilda leaned back in her chair, watching him indulgently out of her\nshrewd eyes. \"Come, don't be angry, but don't try to pose for me, or to\nbe anything but what you are. If you care to come, it's yourself I'll\nbe glad to see, and you thinking well of yourself. Don't try to wear a\ncloak of humility; it doesn't become you. Stalk in as you are and don't\nmake excuses. I'm not accustomed to inquiring into the motives of my\nguests. That would hardly be safe, even for Lady Walford, in a great\nhouse like this.\"\n\n\"Sunday afternoon, then,\" said Alexander, as she rose to join her\nhostess. \"How early may I come?\"\n\nShe gave him her hand and flushed and laughed. He bent over it a little\nstiffly. She went away on Lady Walford's arm, and as he stood watching\nher yellow train glide down the long floor he looked rather sullen. He\nfelt that he had not come out of it very brilliantly.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nOn Sunday afternoon Alexander remembered Miss Burgoyne's invitation and\ncalled at her apartment. He found it a delightful little place and he\nmet charming people there. Hilda lived alone, attended by a very pretty\nand competent French servant who answered the door and brought in the\ntea. Alexander arrived early, and some twenty-odd people dropped in\nduring the course of the afternoon. Hugh MacConnell came with his\nsister, and stood about, managing his tea-cup awkwardly and watching\nevery one out of his deep-set, faded eyes. He seemed to have made a\nresolute effort at tidiness of attire, and his sister, a robust, florid\nwoman with a splendid joviality about her, kept eyeing his freshly\ncreased clothes apprehensively. It was not very long, indeed, before his\ncoat hung with a discouraged sag from his gaunt shoulders and his hair\nand beard were rumpled as if he had been out in a gale. His dry\nhumor went under a cloud of absent-minded kindliness which, Mainhall\nexplained, always overtook him here. He was never so witty or so sharp\nhere as elsewhere, and Alexander thought he behaved as if he were an\nelderly relative come in to a young girl's party.\n\nThe editor of a monthly review came with his wife, and Lady Kildare,\nthe Irish philanthropist, brought her young nephew, Robert Owen, who had\ncome up from Oxford, and who was visibly excited and gratified by his\nfirst introduction to Miss Burgoyne. Hilda was very nice to him, and he\nsat on the edge of his chair, flushed with his conversational efforts\nand moving his chin about nervously over his high collar. Sarah Frost,\nthe novelist, came with her husband, a very genial and placid old\nscholar who had become slightly deranged upon the subject of the fourth\ndimension. On other matters he was perfectly rational and he was easy\nand pleasing in conversation. He looked very much like Agassiz, and\nhis wife, in her old-fashioned black silk dress, overskirted and\ntight-sleeved, reminded Alexander of the early pictures of Mrs.\nBrowning. Hilda seemed particularly fond of this quaint couple, and\nBartley himself was so pleased with their mild and thoughtful converse\nthat he took his leave when they did, and walked with them over to\nOxford Street, where they waited for their 'bus. They asked him to come\nto see them in Chelsea, and they spoke very tenderly of Hilda. \"She's a\ndear, unworldly little thing,\" said the philosopher absently; \"more like\nthe stage people of my young days--folk of simple manners. There aren't\nmany such left. American tours have spoiled them, I'm afraid. They have\nall grown very smart. Lamb wouldn't care a great deal about many of\nthem, I fancy.\"\n\nAlexander went back to Bedford Square a second Sunday afternoon. He had\na long talk with MacConnell, but he got no word with Hilda alone, and\nhe left in a discontented state of mind. For the rest of the week he was\nnervous and unsettled, and kept rushing his work as if he were preparing\nfor immediate departure. On Thursday afternoon he cut short a committee\nmeeting, jumped into a hansom, and drove to Bedford Square. He sent up\nhis card, but it came back to him with a message scribbled across the\nfront.\n\n So sorry I can't see you. Will you come and\n dine with me Sunday evening at half-past seven?\n\n H.B.\n\nWhen Bartley arrived at Bedford Square on Sunday evening, Marie,\nthe pretty little French girl, met him at the door and conducted him\nupstairs. Hilda was writing in her living-room, under the light of a\ntall desk lamp. Bartley recognized the primrose satin gown she had worn\nthat first evening at Lady Walford's.\n\n\"I'm so pleased that you think me worth that yellow dress, you know,\" he\nsaid, taking her hand and looking her over admiringly from the toes of\nher canary slippers to her smoothly parted brown hair. \"Yes, it's very,\nvery pretty. Every one at Lady Walford's was looking at it.\"\n\nHilda curtsied. \"Is that why you think it pretty? I've no need for\nfine clothes in Mac's play this time, so I can afford a few duddies for\nmyself. It's owing to that same chance, by the way, that I am able to\nask you to dinner. I don't need Marie to dress me this season, so she\nkeeps house for me, and my little Galway girl has gone home for a visit.\nI should never have asked you if Molly had been here, for I remember you\ndon't like English cookery.\"\n\nAlexander walked about the room, looking at everything.\n\n\"I haven't had a chance yet to tell you what a jolly little place I\nthink this is. Where did you get those etchings? They're quite unusual,\naren't they?\"\n\n\"Lady Westmere sent them to me from Rome last Christmas. She is very\nmuch interested in the American artist who did them. They are all\nsketches made about the Villa d'Este, you see. He painted that group of\ncypresses for the Salon, and it was bought for the Luxembourg.\"\n\nAlexander walked over to the bookcases. \"It's the air of the whole place\nhere that I like. You haven't got anything that doesn't belong. Seems to\nme it looks particularly well to-night. And you have so many flowers. I\nlike these little yellow irises.\"\n\n\"Rooms always look better by lamplight--in London, at least. Though\nMarie is clean--really clean, as the French are. Why do you look at the\nflowers so critically? Marie got them all fresh in Covent Garden market\nyesterday morning.\"\n\n\"I'm glad,\" said Alexander simply. \"I can't tell you how glad I am to\nhave you so pretty and comfortable here, and to hear every one saying\nsuch nice things about you. You've got awfully nice friends,\" he added\nhumbly, picking up a little jade elephant from her desk. \"Those fellows\nare all very loyal, even Mainhall. They don't talk of any one else as\nthey do of you.\"\n\nHilda sat down on the couch and said seriously: \"I've a neat little sum\nin the bank, too, now, and I own a mite of a hut in Galway. It's not\nworth much, but I love it. I've managed to save something every year,\nand that with helping my three sisters now and then, and tiding poor\nCousin Mike over bad seasons. He's that gifted, you know, but he will\ndrink and loses more good engagements than other fellows ever get. And\nI've traveled a bit, too.\"\n\nMarie opened the door and smilingly announced that dinner was served.\n\n\"My dining-room,\" Hilda explained, as she led the way, \"is the tiniest\nplace you have ever seen.\"\n\nIt was a tiny room, hung all round with French prints, above which ran a\nshelf full of china. Hilda saw Alexander look up at it.\n\n\"It's not particularly rare,\" she said, \"but some of it was my\nmother's. Heaven knows how she managed to keep it whole, through all our\nwanderings, or in what baskets and bundles and theatre trunks it hasn't\nbeen stowed away. We always had our tea out of those blue cups when I\nwas a little girl, sometimes in the queerest lodgings, and sometimes on\na trunk at the theatre--queer theatres, for that matter.\"\n\nIt was a wonderful little dinner. There was watercress soup, and sole,\nand a delightful omelette stuffed with mushrooms and truffles, and two\nsmall rare ducklings, and artichokes, and a dry yellow Rhone wine of\nwhich Bartley had always been very fond. He drank it appreciatively and\nremarked that there was still no other he liked so well.\n\n\"I have some champagne for you, too. I don't drink it myself, but I like\nto see it behave when it's poured. There is nothing else that looks so\njolly.\"\n\n\"Thank you. But I don't like it so well as this.\" Bartley held the\nyellow wine against the light and squinted into it as he turned the\nglass slowly about. \"You have traveled, you say. Have you been in Paris\nmuch these late years?\"\n\nHilda lowered one of the candle-shades carefully. \"Oh, yes, I go over to\nParis often. There are few changes in the old Quarter. Dear old Madame\nAnger is dead--but perhaps you don't remember her?\"\n\n\"Don't I, though! I'm so sorry to hear it. How did her son turn out? I\nremember how she saved and scraped for him, and how he always lay abed\ntill ten o'clock. He was the laziest fellow at the Beaux Arts; and\nthat's saying a good deal.\"\n\n\"Well, he is still clever and lazy. They say he is a good architect when\nhe will work. He's a big, handsome creature, and he hates Americans as\nmuch as ever. But Angel--do you remember Angel?\"\n\n\"Perfectly. Did she ever get back to Brittany and her bains de mer?\"\n\n\"Ah, no. Poor Angel! She got tired of cooking and scouring the coppers\nin Madame Anger's little kitchen, so she ran away with a soldier, and\nthen with another soldier. Too bad! She still lives about the Quarter,\nand, though there is always a soldat, she has become a blanchisseuse de\nfin. She did my blouses beautifully the last time I was there, and was\nso delighted to see me again. I gave her all my old clothes, even my old\nhats, though she always wears her Breton headdress. Her hair is still\nlike flax, and her blue eyes are just like a baby's, and she has the\nsame three freckles on her little nose, and talks about going back to\nher bains de mer.\"\n\nBartley looked at Hilda across the yellow light of the candles and broke\ninto a low, happy laugh. \"How jolly it was being young, Hilda! Do you\nremember that first walk we took together in Paris? We walked down to\nthe Place Saint-Michel to buy some lilacs. Do you remember how sweet\nthey smelled?\"\n\n\"Indeed I do. Come, we'll have our coffee in the other room, and you can\nsmoke.\"\n\nHilda rose quickly, as if she wished to change the drift of their talk,\nbut Bartley found it pleasant to continue it.\n\n\"What a warm, soft spring evening that was,\" he went on, as they sat\ndown in the study with the coffee on a little table between them; \"and\nthe sky, over the bridges, was just the color of the lilacs. We walked\non down by the river, didn't we?\"\n\nHilda laughed and looked at him questioningly. He saw a gleam in her\neyes that he remembered even better than the episode he was recalling.\n\n\"I think we did,\" she answered demurely. \"It was on the Quai we met\nthat woman who was crying so bitterly. I gave her a spray of lilac,\nI remember, and you gave her a franc. I was frightened at your\nprodigality.\"\n\n\"I expect it was the last franc I had. What a strong brown face she had,\nand very tragic. She looked at us with such despair and longing, out\nfrom under her black shawl. What she wanted from us was neither our\nflowers nor our francs, but just our youth. I remember it touched me\nso. I would have given her some of mine off my back, if I could. I had\nenough and to spare then,\" Bartley mused, and looked thoughtfully at his\ncigar.\n\nThey were both remembering what the woman had said when she took the\nmoney: \"God give you a happy love!\" It was not in the ingratiating\ntone of the habitual beggar: it had come out of the depths of the poor\ncreature's sorrow, vibrating with pity for their youth and despair\nat the terribleness of human life; it had the anguish of a voice of\nprophecy. Until she spoke, Bartley had not realized that he was in love.\nThe strange woman, and her passionate sentence that rang out so sharply,\nhad frightened them both. They went home sadly with the lilacs, back\nto the Rue Saint-Jacques, walking very slowly, arm in arm. When they\nreached the house where Hilda lodged, Bartley went across the court with\nher, and up the dark old stairs to the third landing; and there he had\nkissed her for the first time. He had shut his eyes to give him the\ncourage, he remembered, and she had trembled so--\n\nBartley started when Hilda rang the little bell beside her. \"Dear me,\nwhy did you do that? I had quite forgotten--I was back there. It was\nvery jolly,\" he murmured lazily, as Marie came in to take away the\ncoffee.\n\nHilda laughed and went over to the piano. \"Well, we are neither of us\ntwenty now, you know. Have I told you about my new play? Mac is writing\none; really for me this time. You see, I'm coming on.\"\n\n\"I've seen nothing else. What kind of a part is it? Shall you wear\nyellow gowns? I hope so.\"\n\nHe was looking at her round slender figure, as she stood by the piano,\nturning over a pile of music, and he felt the energy in every line of\nit.\n\n\"No, it isn't a dress-up part. He doesn't seem to fancy me in fine\nfeathers. He says I ought to be minding the pigs at home, and I suppose\nI ought. But he's given me some good Irish songs. Listen.\"\n\nShe sat down at the piano and sang. When she finished, Alexander shook\nhimself out of a reverie.\n\n\"Sing `The Harp That Once,' Hilda. You used to sing it so well.\"\n\n\"Nonsense. Of course I can't really sing, except the way my mother\nand grandmother did before me. Most actresses nowadays learn to sing\nproperly, so I tried a master; but he confused me, just!\"\n\nAlexander laughed. \"All the same, sing it, Hilda.\"\n\nHilda started up from the stool and moved restlessly toward the window.\n\"It's really too warm in this room to sing. Don't you feel it?\"\n\nAlexander went over and opened the window for her. \"Aren't you afraid\nto let the wind low like that on your neck? Can't I get a scarf or\nsomething?\"\n\n\"Ask a theatre lady if she's afraid of drafts!\" Hilda laughed. \"But\nperhaps, as I'm so warm--give me your handkerchief. There, just in\nfront.\" He slipped the corners carefully under her shoulder-straps.\n\"There, that will do. It looks like a bib.\" She pushed his hand away\nquickly and stood looking out into the deserted square. \"Isn't London a\ntomb on Sunday night?\"\n\nAlexander caught the agitation in her voice. He stood a little behind\nher, and tried to steady himself as he said: \"It's soft and misty. See\nhow white the stars are.\"\n\nFor a long time neither Hilda nor Bartley spoke. They stood close\ntogether, looking out into the wan, watery sky, breathing always more\nquickly and lightly, and it seemed as if all the clocks in the world\nhad stopped. Suddenly he moved the clenched hand he held behind him\nand dropped it violently at his side. He felt a tremor run through the\nslender yellow figure in front of him.\n\nShe caught his handkerchief from her throat and thrust it at him without\nturning round. \"Here, take it. You must go now, Bartley. Good-night.\"\n\nBartley leaned over her shoulder, without touching her, and whispered in\nher ear: \"You are giving me a chance?\"\n\n\"Yes. Take it and go. This isn't fair, you know. Good-night.\"\n\nAlexander unclenched the two hands at his sides. With one he threw down\nthe window and with the other--still standing behind her--he drew her\nback against him.\n\nShe uttered a little cry, threw her arms over her head, and drew his\nface down to hers. \"Are you going to let me love you a little, Bartley?\"\nshe whispered.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nIt was the afternoon of the day before Christmas. Mrs. Alexander had\nbeen driving about all the morning, leaving presents at the houses of\nher friends. She lunched alone, and as she rose from the table she spoke\nto the butler: \"Thomas, I am going down to the kitchen now to see Norah.\nIn half an hour you are to bring the greens up from the cellar and put\nthem in the library. Mr. Alexander will be home at three to hang them\nhimself. Don't forget the stepladder, and plenty of tacks and\nstring. You may bring the azaleas upstairs. Take the white one to Mr.\nAlexander's study. Put the two pink ones in this room, and the red one\nin the drawing-room.\"\n\nA little before three o'clock Mrs. Alexander went into the library to\nsee that everything was ready. She pulled the window shades high, for\nthe weather was dark and stormy, and there was little light, even in\nthe streets. A foot of snow had fallen during the morning, and the wide\nspace over the river was thick with flying flakes that fell and wreathed\nthe masses of floating ice. Winifred was standing by the window when\nshe heard the front door open. She hurried to the hall as Alexander came\nstamping in, covered with snow. He kissed her joyfully and brushed away\nthe snow that fell on her hair.\n\n\"I wish I had asked you to meet me at the office and walk home with me,\nWinifred. The Common is beautiful. The boys have swept the snow off the\npond and are skating furiously. Did the cyclamens come?\"\n\n\"An hour ago. What splendid ones! But aren't you frightfully\nextravagant?\"\n\n\"Not for Christmas-time. I'll go upstairs and change my coat. I shall be\ndown in a moment. Tell Thomas to get everything ready.\"\n\nWhen Alexander reappeared, he took his wife's arm and went with her into\nthe library. \"When did the azaleas get here? Thomas has got the white\none in my room.\"\n\n\"I told him to put it there.\"\n\n\"But, I say, it's much the finest of the lot!\"\n\n\"That's why I had it put there. There is too much color in that room for\na red one, you know.\"\n\nBartley began to sort the greens. \"It looks very splendid there, but I\nfeel piggish to have it. However, we really spend more time there than\nanywhere else in the house. Will you hand me the holly?\"\n\nHe climbed up the stepladder, which creaked under his weight, and\nbegan to twist the tough stems of the holly into the frame-work of the\nchandelier.\n\n\"I forgot to tell you that I had a letter from Wilson, this morning,\nexplaining his telegram. He is coming on because an old uncle up in\nVermont has conveniently died and left Wilson a little money--something\nlike ten thousand. He's coming on to settle up the estate. Won't it be\njolly to have him?\"\n\n\"And how fine that he's come into a little money. I can see him posting\ndown State Street to the steamship offices. He will get a good many\ntrips out of that ten thousand. What can have detained him? I expected\nhim here for luncheon.\"\n\n\"Those trains from Albany are always late. He'll be along sometime this\nafternoon. And now, don't you want to go upstairs and lie down for\nan hour? You've had a busy morning and I don't want you to be tired\nto-night.\"\n\nAfter his wife went upstairs Alexander worked energetically at the\ngreens for a few moments. Then, as he was cutting off a length of\nstring, he sighed suddenly and sat down, staring out of the window at\nthe snow. The animation died out of his face, but in his eyes there was\na restless light, a look of apprehension and suspense. He kept clasping\nand unclasping his big hands as if he were trying to realize something.\nThe clock ticked through the minutes of a half-hour and the afternoon\noutside began to thicken and darken turbidly. Alexander, since he first\nsat down, had not changed his position. He leaned forward, his hands\nbetween his knees, scarcely breathing, as if he were holding himself\naway from his surroundings, from the room, and from the very chair in\nwhich he sat, from everything except the wild eddies of snow above the\nriver on which his eyes were fixed with feverish intentness, as if he\nwere trying to project himself thither. When at last Lucius Wilson was\nannounced, Alexander sprang eagerly to his feet and hurried to meet his\nold instructor.\n\n\"Hello, Wilson. What luck! Come into the library. We are to have a lot\nof people to dinner to-night, and Winifred's lying down. You will\nexcuse her, won't you? And now what about yourself? Sit down and tell me\neverything.\"\n\n\"I think I'd rather move about, if you don't mind. I've been sitting in\nthe train for a week, it seems to me.\" Wilson stood before the fire with\nhis hands behind him and looked about the room. \"You HAVE been busy.\nBartley, if I'd had my choice of all possible places in which to spend\nChristmas, your house would certainly be the place I'd have chosen.\nHappy people do a great deal for their friends. A house like this\nthrows its warmth out. I felt it distinctly as I was coming through\nthe Berkshires. I could scarcely believe that I was to see Mrs. Bartley\nagain so soon.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Wilson. She'll be as glad to see you. Shall we have tea now?\nI'll ring for Thomas to clear away this litter. Winifred says I always\nwreck the house when I try to do anything. Do you know, I am quite\ntired. Looks as if I were not used to work, doesn't it?\" Alexander\nlaughed and dropped into a chair. \"You know, I'm sailing the day after\nNew Year's.\"\n\n\"Again? Why, you've been over twice since I was here in the spring,\nhaven't you?\"\n\n\"Oh, I was in London about ten days in the summer. Went to escape the\nhot weather more than anything else. I shan't be gone more than a month\nthis time. Winifred and I have been up in Canada for most of the autumn.\nThat Moorlock Bridge is on my back all the time. I never had so much\ntrouble with a job before.\" Alexander moved about restlessly and fell to\npoking the fire.\n\n\"Haven't I seen in the papers that there is some trouble about a\ntidewater bridge of yours in New Jersey?\"\n\n\"Oh, that doesn't amount to anything. It's held up by a steel strike. A\nbother, of course, but the sort of thing one is always having to put up\nwith. But the Moorlock Bridge is a continual anxiety. You see, the truth\nis, we are having to build pretty well to the strain limit up there.\nThey've crowded me too much on the cost. It's all very well if\neverything goes well, but these estimates have never been used for\nanything of such length before. However, there's nothing to be done.\nThey hold me to the scale I've used in shorter bridges. The last thing a\nbridge commission cares about is the kind of bridge you build.\"\n\n\nWhen Bartley had finished dressing for dinner he went into his study,\nwhere he found his wife arranging flowers on his writing-table.\n\n\"These pink roses just came from Mrs. Hastings,\" she said, smiling, \"and\nI am sure she meant them for you.\"\n\nBartley looked about with an air of satisfaction at the greens and the\nwreaths in the windows. \"Have you a moment, Winifred? I have just now\nbeen thinking that this is our twelfth Christmas. Can you realize it?\"\nHe went up to the table and took her hands away from the flowers, drying\nthem with his pocket handkerchief. \"They've been awfully happy ones, all\nof them, haven't they?\" He took her in his arms and bent back, lifting\nher a little and giving her a long kiss. \"You are happy, aren't you\nWinifred? More than anything else in the world, I want you to be happy.\nSometimes, of late, I've thought you looked as if you were troubled.\"\n\n\"No; it's only when you are troubled and harassed that I feel worried,\nBartley. I wish you always seemed as you do to-night. But you don't,\nalways.\" She looked earnestly and inquiringly into his eyes.\n\nAlexander took her two hands from his shoulders and swung them back and\nforth in his own, laughing his big blond laugh.\n\n\"I'm growing older, my dear; that's what you feel. Now, may I show you\nsomething? I meant to save them until to-morrow, but I want you to\nwear them to-night.\" He took a little leather box out of his pocket and\nopened it. On the white velvet lay two long pendants of curiously worked\ngold, set with pearls. Winifred looked from the box to Bartley and\nexclaimed:--\n\n\"Where did you ever find such gold work, Bartley?\"\n\n\"It's old Flemish. Isn't it fine?\"\n\n\"They are the most beautiful things, dear. But, you know, I never wear\nearrings.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know. But I want you to wear them. I have always wanted\nyou to. So few women can. There must be a good ear, to begin with, and\na nose\"--he waved his hand--\"above reproach. Most women look silly in\nthem. They go only with faces like yours--very, very proud, and just a\nlittle hard.\"\n\nWinifred laughed as she went over to the mirror and fitted the delicate\nsprings to the lobes of her ears. \"Oh, Bartley, that old foolishness\nabout my being hard. It really hurts my feelings. But I must go down\nnow. People are beginning to come.\"\n\nBartley drew her arm about his neck and went to the door with her. \"Not\nhard to me, Winifred,\" he whispered. \"Never, never hard to me.\"\n\nLeft alone, he paced up and down his study. He was at home again, among\nall the dear familiar things that spoke to him of so many happy years.\nHis house to-night would be full of charming people, who liked and\nadmired him. Yet all the time, underneath his pleasure and hopefulness\nand satisfaction, he was conscious of the vibration of an unnatural\nexcitement. Amid this light and warmth and friendliness, he sometimes\nstarted and shuddered, as if some one had stepped on his grave.\nSomething had broken loose in him of which he knew nothing except\nthat it was sullen and powerful, and that it wrung and tortured him.\nSometimes it came upon him softly, in enervating reveries. Sometimes it\nbattered him like the cannon rolling in the hold of the vessel. Always,\nnow, it brought with it a sense of quickened life, of stimulating\ndanger. To-night it came upon him suddenly, as he was walking the floor,\nafter his wife left him. It seemed impossible; he could not believe it.\nHe glanced entreatingly at the door, as if to call her back. He heard\nvoices in the hall below, and knew that he must go down. Going over to\nthe window, he looked out at the lights across the river. How could this\nhappen here, in his own house, among the things he loved? What was it\nthat reached in out of the darkness and thrilled him? As he stood\nthere he had a feeling that he would never escape. He shut his eyes and\npressed his forehead against the cold window glass, breathing in the\nchill that came through it. \"That this,\" he groaned, \"that this should\nhave happened to ME!\"\n\n\nOn New Year's day a thaw set in, and during the night torrents of rain\nfell. In the morning, the morning of Alexander's departure for England,\nthe river was streaked with fog and the rain drove hard against the\nwindows of the breakfast-room. Alexander had finished his coffee and\nwas pacing up and down. His wife sat at the table, watching him. She was\npale and unnaturally calm. When Thomas brought the letters, Bartley sank\ninto his chair and ran them over rapidly.\n\n\"Here's a note from old Wilson. He's safe back at his grind, and says he\nhad a bully time. `The memory of Mrs. Bartley will make my whole winter\nfragrant.' Just like him. He will go on getting measureless satisfaction\nout of you by his study fire. What a man he is for looking on at life!\"\nBartley sighed, pushed the letters back impatiently, and went over to\nthe window. \"This is a nasty sort of day to sail. I've a notion to call\nit off. Next week would be time enough.\"\n\n\"That would only mean starting twice. It wouldn't really help you out at\nall,\" Mrs. Alexander spoke soothingly. \"And you'd come back late for all\nyour engagements.\"\n\nBartley began jingling some loose coins in his pocket. \"I wish things\nwould let me rest. I'm tired of work, tired of people, tired of trailing\nabout.\" He looked out at the storm-beaten river.\n\nWinifred came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. \"That's\nwhat you always say, poor Bartley! At bottom you really like all these\nthings. Can't you remember that?\"\n\nHe put his arm about her. \"All the same, life runs smoothly enough with\nsome people, and with me it's always a messy sort of patchwork. It's\nlike the song; peace is where I am not. How can you face it all with so\nmuch fortitude?\"\n\nShe looked at him with that clear gaze which Wilson had so much admired,\nwhich he had felt implied such high confidence and fearless pride. \"Oh,\nI faced that long ago, when you were on your first bridge, up at old\nAllway. I knew then that your paths were not to be paths of peace, but I\ndecided that I wanted to follow them.\"\n\nBartley and his wife stood silent for a long time; the fire crackled in\nthe grate, the rain beat insistently upon the windows, and the sleepy\nAngora looked up at them curiously.\n\nPresently Thomas made a discreet sound at the door. \"Shall Edward bring\ndown your trunks, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes; they are ready. Tell him not to forget the big portfolio on the\nstudy table.\"\n\nThomas withdrew, closing the door softly. Bartley turned away from his\nwife, still holding her hand. \"It never gets any easier, Winifred.\"\n\nThey both started at the sound of the carriage on the pavement outside.\nAlexander sat down and leaned his head on his hand. His wife bent over\nhim. \"Courage,\" she said gayly. Bartley rose and rang the bell. Thomas\nbrought him his hat and stick and ulster. At the sight of these, the\nsupercilious Angora moved restlessly, quitted her red cushion by\nthe fire, and came up, waving her tail in vexation at these ominous\nindications of change. Alexander stooped to stroke her, and then plunged\ninto his coat and drew on his gloves. His wife held his stick, smiling.\nBartley smiled too, and his eyes cleared. \"I'll work like the devil,\nWinifred, and be home again before you realize I've gone.\" He kissed her\nquickly several times, hurried out of the front door into the rain, and\nwaved to her from the carriage window as the driver was starting his\nmelancholy, dripping black horses. Alexander sat with his hands clenched\non his knees. As the carriage turned up the hill, he lifted one hand and\nbrought it down violently. \"This time\"--he spoke aloud and through his\nset teeth--\"this time I'm going to end it!\"\n\n\nOn the afternoon of the third day out, Alexander was sitting well to the\nstern, on the windward side where the chairs were few, his rugs over\nhim and the collar of his fur-lined coat turned up about his ears. The\nweather had so far been dark and raw. For two hours he had been\nwatching the low, dirty sky and the beating of the heavy rain upon\nthe iron-colored sea. There was a long, oily swell that made exercise\nlaborious. The decks smelled of damp woolens, and the air was so humid\nthat drops of moisture kept gathering upon his hair and mustache. He\nseldom moved except to brush them away. The great open spaces made\nhim passive and the restlessness of the water quieted him. He intended\nduring the voyage to decide upon a course of action, but he held all\nthis away from him for the present and lay in a blessed gray\noblivion. Deep down in him somewhere his resolution was weakening and\nstrengthening, ebbing and flowing. The thing that perturbed him went on\nas steadily as his pulse, but he was almost unconscious of it. He was\nsubmerged in the vast impersonal grayness about him, and at intervals\nthe sidelong roll of the boat measured off time like the ticking of a\nclock. He felt released from everything that troubled and perplexed\nhim. It was as if he had tricked and outwitted torturing memories, had\nactually managed to get on board without them. He thought of nothing at\nall. If his mind now and again picked a face out of the grayness, it was\nLucius Wilson's, or the face of an old schoolmate, forgotten for years;\nor it was the slim outline of a favorite greyhound he used to hunt\njack-rabbits with when he was a boy.\n\nToward six o'clock the wind rose and tugged at the tarpaulin and brought\nthe swell higher. After dinner Alexander came back to the wet deck,\npiled his damp rugs over him again, and sat smoking, losing himself in\nthe obliterating blackness and drowsing in the rush of the gale. Before\nhe went below a few bright stars were pricked off between heavily moving\nmasses of cloud.\n\nThe next morning was bright and mild, with a fresh breeze. Alexander\nfelt the need of exercise even before he came out of his cabin. When he\nwent on deck the sky was blue and blinding, with heavy whiffs of white\ncloud, smoke-colored at the edges, moving rapidly across it. The water\nwas roughish, a cold, clear indigo breaking into whitecaps. Bartley\nwalked for two hours, and then stretched himself in the sun until\nlunch-time.\n\nIn the afternoon he wrote a long letter to Winifred. Later, as he walked\nthe deck through a splendid golden sunset, his spirits rose continually.\nIt was agreeable to come to himself again after several days of numbness\nand torpor. He stayed out until the last tinge of violet had faded from\nthe water. There was literally a taste of life on his lips as he\nsat down to dinner and ordered a bottle of champagne. He was late in\nfinishing his dinner, and drank rather more wine than he had meant to.\nWhen he went above, the wind had risen and the deck was almost deserted.\nAs he stepped out of the door a gale lifted his heavy fur coat about\nhis shoulders. He fought his way up the deck with keen exhilaration.\nThe moment he stepped, almost out of breath, behind the shelter of the\nstern, the wind was cut off, and he felt, like a rush of warm air, a\nsense of close and intimate companionship. He started back and tore his\ncoat open as if something warm were actually clinging to him beneath it.\nHe hurried up the deck and went into the saloon parlor, full of women\nwho had retreated thither from the sharp wind. He threw himself upon\nthem. He talked delightfully to the older ones and played accompaniments\nfor the younger ones until the last sleepy girl had followed her mother\nbelow. Then he went into the smoking-room. He played bridge until two\no'clock in the morning, and managed to lose a considerable sum of money\nwithout really noticing that he was doing so.\n\nAfter the break of one fine day the weather was pretty consistently\ndull. When the low sky thinned a trifle, the pale white spot of a sun\ndid no more than throw a bluish lustre on the water, giving it the dark\nbrightness of newly cut lead. Through one after another of those gray\ndays Alexander drowsed and mused, drinking in the grateful moisture. But\nthe complete peace of the first part of the voyage was over. Sometimes\nhe rose suddenly from his chair as if driven out, and paced the deck for\nhours. People noticed his propensity for walking in rough weather, and\nwatched him curiously as he did his rounds. From his abstraction and the\ndetermined set of his jaw, they fancied he must be thinking about his\nbridge. Every one had heard of the new cantilever bridge in Canada.\n\nBut Alexander was not thinking about his work. After the fourth night\nout, when his will suddenly softened under his hands, he had been\ncontinually hammering away at himself. More and more often, when he\nfirst wakened in the morning or when he stepped into a warm place after\nbeing chilled on the deck, he felt a sudden painful delight at being\nnearer another shore. Sometimes when he was most despondent, when he\nthought himself worn out with this struggle, in a flash he was free\nof it and leaped into an overwhelming consciousness of himself. On the\ninstant he felt that marvelous return of the impetuousness, the intense\nexcitement, the increasing expectancy of youth.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nThe last two days of the voyage Bartley found almost intolerable. The\nstop at Queenstown, the tedious passage up the Mersey, were things that\nhe noted dimly through his growing impatience. He had planned to stop in\nLiverpool; but, instead, he took the boat train for London.\n\nEmerging at Euston at half-past three o'clock in the afternoon,\nAlexander had his luggage sent to the Savoy and drove at once to Bedford\nSquare. When Marie met him at the door, even her strong sense of the\nproprieties could not restrain her surprise and delight. She blushed and\nsmiled and fumbled his card in her confusion before she ran upstairs.\nAlexander paced up and down the hallway, buttoning and unbuttoning his\novercoat, until she returned and took him up to Hilda's living-room. The\nroom was empty when he entered. A coal fire was crackling in the grate\nand the lamps were lit, for it was already beginning to grow dark\noutside. Alexander did not sit down. He stood his ground over by the\nwindows until Hilda came in. She called his name on the threshold, but\nin her swift flight across the room she felt a change in him and caught\nherself up so deftly that he could not tell just when she did it.\nShe merely brushed his cheek with her lips and put a hand lightly and\njoyously on either shoulder. \"Oh, what a grand thing to happen on a\nraw day! I felt it in my bones when I woke this morning that something\nsplendid was going to turn up. I thought it might be Sister Kate or\nCousin Mike would be happening along. I never dreamed it would be you,\nBartley. But why do you let me chatter on like this? Come over to the\nfire; you're chilled through.\"\n\nShe pushed him toward the big chair by the fire, and sat down on a stool\nat the opposite side of the hearth, her knees drawn up to her chin,\nlaughing like a happy little girl.\n\n\"When did you come, Bartley, and how did it happen? You haven't spoken a\nword.\"\n\n\"I got in about ten minutes ago. I landed at Liverpool this morning and\ncame down on the boat train.\"\n\nAlexander leaned forward and warmed his hands before the blaze. Hilda\nwatched him with perplexity.\n\n\"There's something troubling you, Bartley. What is it?\"\n\nBartley bent lower over the fire. \"It's the whole thing that troubles\nme, Hilda. You and I.\"\n\nHilda took a quick, soft breath. She looked at his heavy shoulders and\nbig, determined head, thrust forward like a catapult in leash.\n\n\"What about us, Bartley?\" she asked in a thin voice.\n\nHe locked and unlocked his hands over the grate and spread his fingers\nclose to the bluish flame, while the coals crackled and the clock ticked\nand a street vendor began to call under the window. At last Alexander\nbrought out one word:--\n\n\"Everything!\"\n\nHilda was pale by this time, and her eyes were wide with fright. She\nlooked about desperately from Bartley to the door, then to the windows,\nand back again to Bartley. She rose uncertainly, touched his hair with\nher hand, then sank back upon her stool.\n\n\"I'll do anything you wish me to, Bartley,\" she said tremulously. \"I\ncan't stand seeing you miserable.\"\n\n\"I can't live with myself any longer,\" he answered roughly.\n\nHe rose and pushed the chair behind him and began to walk miserably\nabout the room, seeming to find it too small for him. He pulled up a\nwindow as if the air were heavy.\n\nHilda watched him from her corner, trembling and scarcely breathing,\ndark shadows growing about her eyes.\n\n\"It . . . it hasn't always made you miserable, has it?\" Her eyelids fell\nand her lips quivered.\n\n\"Always. But it's worse now. It's unbearable. It tortures me every\nminute.\"\n\n\"But why NOW?\" she asked piteously, wringing her hands.\n\nHe ignored her question. \"I am not a man who can live two lives,\" he\nwent on feverishly. \"Each life spoils the other. I get nothing but\nmisery out of either. The world is all there, just as it used to be,\nbut I can't get at it any more. There is this deception between me and\neverything.\"\n\nAt that word \"deception,\" spoken with such self-contempt, the color\nflashed back into Hilda's face as suddenly as if she had been struck\nby a whiplash. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, which were\nclasped tightly in front of her.\n\n\"Could you--could you sit down and talk about it quietly, Bartley, as if\nI were a friend, and not some one who had to be defied?\"\n\nHe dropped back heavily into his chair by the fire. \"It was myself I was\ndefying, Hilda. I have thought about it until I am worn out.\"\n\nHe looked at her and his haggard face softened. He put out his hand\ntoward her as he looked away again into the fire.\n\nShe crept across to him, drawing her stool after her. \"When did you\nfirst begin to feel like this, Bartley?\"\n\n\"After the very first. The first was--sort of in play, wasn't it?\"\n\nHilda's face quivered, but she whispered: \"Yes, I think it must have\nbeen. But why didn't you tell me when you were here in the summer?\"\n\nAlexander groaned. \"I meant to, but somehow I couldn't. We had only a\nfew days, and your new play was just on, and you were so happy.\"\n\n\"Yes, I was happy, wasn't I?\" She pressed his hand gently in gratitude.\n\"Weren't you happy then, at all?\"\n\nShe closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if to draw in again the\nfragrance of those days. Something of their troubling sweetness came\nback to Alexander, too. He moved uneasily and his chair creaked.\n\n\"Yes, I was then. You know. But afterward. . .\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" she hurried, pulling her hand gently away from him.\nPresently it stole back to his coat sleeve. \"Please tell me one thing,\nBartley. At least, tell me that you believe I thought I was making you\nhappy.\"\n\nHis hand shut down quickly over the questioning fingers on his sleeves.\n\"Yes, Hilda; I know that,\" he said simply.\n\nShe leaned her head against his arm and spoke softly:--\n\n\"You see, my mistake was in wanting you to have everything. I wanted you\nto eat all the cakes and have them, too. I somehow believed that I could\ntake all the bad consequences for you. I wanted you always to be happy\nand handsome and successful--to have all the things that a great man\nought to have, and, once in a way, the careless holidays that great men\nare not permitted.\"\n\nBartley gave a bitter little laugh, and Hilda looked up and read in the\ndeepening lines of his face that youth and Bartley would not much longer\nstruggle together.\n\n\"I understand, Bartley. I was wrong. But I didn't know. You've only to\ntell me now. What must I do that I've not done, or what must I not do?\"\nShe listened intently, but she heard nothing but the creaking of his\nchair. \"You want me to say it?\" she whispered. \"You want to tell me that\nyou can only see me like this, as old friends do, or out in the world\namong people? I can do that.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" he said heavily.\n\nHilda shivered and sat still. Bartley leaned his head in his hands and\nspoke through his teeth. \"It's got to be a clean break, Hilda. I can't\nsee you at all, anywhere. What I mean is that I want you to promise\nnever to see me again, no matter how often I come, no matter how hard I\nbeg.\"\n\nHilda sprang up like a flame. She stood over him with her hands clenched\nat her side, her body rigid.\n\n\"No!\" she gasped. \"It's too late to ask that. Do you hear me, Bartley?\nIt's too late. I won't promise. It's abominable of you to ask me. Keep\naway if you wish; when have I ever followed you? But, if you come to me,\nI'll do as I see fit. The shamefulness of your asking me to do that! If\nyou come to me, I'll do as I see fit. Do you understand? Bartley, you're\ncowardly!\"\n\nAlexander rose and shook himself angrily. \"Yes, I know I'm cowardly.\nI'm afraid of myself. I don't trust myself any more. I carried it all\nlightly enough at first, but now I don't dare trifle with it. It's\ngetting the better of me. It's different now. I'm growing older, and\nyou've got my young self here with you. It's through him that I've come\nto wish for you all and all the time.\" He took her roughly in his arms.\n\"Do you know what I mean?\"\n\nHilda held her face back from him and began to cry bitterly. \"Oh,\nBartley, what am I to do? Why didn't you let me be angry with you? You\nask me to stay away from you because you want me! And I've got nobody\nbut you. I will do anything you say--but that! I will ask the least\nimaginable, but I must have SOMETHING!\"\n\nBartley turned away and sank down in his chair again. Hilda sat on the\narm of it and put her hands lightly on his shoulders.\n\n\"Just something Bartley. I must have you to think of through the months\nand months of loneliness. I must see you. I must know about you. The\nsight of you, Bartley, to see you living and happy and successful--can\nI never make you understand what that means to me?\" She pressed his\nshoulders gently. \"You see, loving some one as I love you makes the\nwhole world different. If I'd met you later, if I hadn't loved you so\nwell--but that's all over, long ago. Then came all those years without\nyou, lonely and hurt and discouraged; those decent young fellows and\npoor Mac, and me never heeding--hard as a steel spring. And then you\ncame back, not caring very much, but it made no difference.\"\n\nShe slid to the floor beside him, as if she were too tired to sit up any\nlonger. Bartley bent over and took her in his arms, kissing her mouth\nand her wet, tired eyes.\n\n\"Don't cry, don't cry,\" he whispered. \"We've tortured each other enough\nfor tonight. Forget everything except that I am here.\"\n\n\"I think I have forgotten everything but that already,\" she murmured.\n\"Ah, your dear arms!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\nDuring the fortnight that Alexander was in London he drove himself hard.\nHe got through a great deal of personal business and saw a great many\nmen who were doing interesting things in his own profession. He disliked\nto think of his visits to London as holidays, and when he was there he\nworked even harder than he did at home.\n\nThe day before his departure for Liverpool was a singularly fine one.\nThe thick air had cleared overnight in a strong wind which brought in a\ngolden dawn and then fell off to a fresh breeze. When Bartley looked\nout of his windows from the Savoy, the river was flashing silver and the\ngray stone along the Embankment was bathed in bright, clear sunshine.\nLondon had wakened to life after three weeks of cold and sodden rain.\nBartley breakfasted hurriedly and went over his mail while the hotel\nvalet packed his trunks. Then he paid his account and walked rapidly\ndown the Strand past Charing Cross Station. His spirits rose with every\nstep, and when he reached Trafalgar Square, blazing in the sun, with\nits fountains playing and its column reaching up into the bright air,\nhe signaled to a hansom, and, before he knew what he was about, told the\ndriver to go to Bedford Square by way of the British Museum.\n\nWhen he reached Hilda's apartment she met him, fresh as the morning\nitself. Her rooms were flooded with sunshine and full of the flowers he\nhad been sending her. She would never let him give her anything else.\n\n\"Are you busy this morning, Hilda?\" he asked as he sat down, his hat and\ngloves in his hand.\n\n\"Very. I've been up and about three hours, working at my part. We open\nin February, you know.\"\n\n\"Well, then you've worked enough. And so have I. I've seen all my men,\nmy packing is done, and I go up to Liverpool this evening. But this\nmorning we are going to have a holiday. What do you say to a drive out\nto Kew and Richmond? You may not get another day like this all winter.\nIt's like a fine April day at home. May I use your telephone? I want to\norder the carriage.\"\n\n\"Oh, how jolly! There, sit down at the desk. And while you are\ntelephoning I'll change my dress. I shan't be long. All the morning\npapers are on the table.\"\n\nHilda was back in a few moments wearing a long gray squirrel coat and a\nbroad fur hat.\n\nBartley rose and inspected her. \"Why don't you wear some of those pink\nroses?\" he asked.\n\n\"But they came only this morning, and they have not even begun to open.\nI was saving them. I am so unconsciously thrifty!\" She laughed as she\nlooked about the room. \"You've been sending me far too many flowers,\nBartley. New ones every day. That's too often; though I do love to open\nthe boxes, and I take good care of them.\"\n\n\"Why won't you let me send you any of those jade or ivory things you are\nso fond of? Or pictures? I know a good deal about pictures.\"\n\nHilda shook her large hat as she drew the roses out of the tall glass.\n\"No, there are some things you can't do. There's the carriage. Will you\nbutton my gloves for me?\"\n\nBartley took her wrist and began to button the long gray suede glove.\n\"How gay your eyes are this morning, Hilda.\"\n\n\"That's because I've been studying. It always stirs me up a little.\"\n\nHe pushed the top of the glove up slowly. \"When did you learn to take\nhold of your parts like that?\"\n\n\"When I had nothing else to think of. Come, the carriage is waiting.\nWhat a shocking while you take.\"\n\n\"I'm in no hurry. We've plenty of time.\"\n\nThey found all London abroad. Piccadilly was a stream of rapidly\nmoving carriages, from which flashed furs and flowers and bright winter\ncostumes. The metal trappings of the harnesses shone dazzlingly, and the\nwheels were revolving disks that threw off rays of light. The parks were\nfull of children and nursemaids and joyful dogs that leaped and yelped\nand scratched up the brown earth with their paws.\n\n\"I'm not going until to-morrow, you know,\" Bartley announced suddenly.\n\"I'll cut off a day in Liverpool. I haven't felt so jolly this long\nwhile.\"\n\nHilda looked up with a smile which she tried not to make too glad. \"I\nthink people were meant to be happy, a little,\" she said.\n\nThey had lunch at Richmond and then walked to Twickenham, where they had\nsent the carriage. They drove back, with a glorious sunset behind them,\ntoward the distant gold-washed city. It was one of those rare afternoons\nwhen all the thickness and shadow of London are changed to a kind of\nshining, pulsing, special atmosphere; when the smoky vapors become\nfluttering golden clouds, nacreous veils of pink and amber; when all\nthat bleakness of gray stone and dullness of dirty brick trembles in\naureate light, and all the roofs and spires, and one great dome, are\nfloated in golden haze. On such rare afternoons the ugliest of cities\nbecomes the most poetic, and months of sodden days are offset by a\nmoment of miracle.\n\n\"It's like that with us Londoners, too,\" Hilda was saying. \"Everything\nis awfully grim and cheerless, our weather and our houses and our ways\nof amusing ourselves. But we can be happier than anybody. We can go mad\nwith joy, as the people do out in the fields on a fine Whitsunday. We\nmake the most of our moment.\"\n\nShe thrust her little chin out defiantly over her gray fur collar, and\nBartley looked down at her and laughed.\n\n\"You are a plucky one, you.\" He patted her glove with his hand. \"Yes,\nyou are a plucky one.\"\n\nHilda sighed. \"No, I'm not. Not about some things, at any rate. It\ndoesn't take pluck to fight for one's moment, but it takes pluck to go\nwithout--a lot. More than I have. I can't help it,\" she added fiercely.\n\nAfter miles of outlying streets and little gloomy houses, they reached\nLondon itself, red and roaring and murky, with a thick dampness coming\nup from the river, that betokened fog again to-morrow. The streets were\nfull of people who had worked indoors all through the priceless day and\nhad now come hungrily out to drink the muddy lees of it. They stood\nin long black lines, waiting before the pit entrances of the\ntheatres--short-coated boys, and girls in sailor hats, all shivering\nand chatting gayly. There was a blurred rhythm in all the dull city\nnoises--in the clatter of the cab horses and the rumbling of the busses,\nin the street calls, and in the undulating tramp, tramp of the crowd. It\nwas like the deep vibration of some vast underground machinery, and like\nthe muffled pulsations of millions of human hearts.\n\n[See \"The Barrel Organ by Alfred Noyes. Ed.] [I have placed it at the\nend for your convenience]\n\n\"Seems good to get back, doesn't it?\" Bartley whispered, as they drove\nfrom Bayswater Road into Oxford Street. \"London always makes me want to\nlive more than any other city in the world. You remember our priestess\nmummy over in the mummy-room, and how we used to long to go and bring\nher out on nights like this? Three thousand years! Ugh!\"\n\n\"All the same, I believe she used to feel it when we stood there and\nwatched her and wished her well. I believe she used to remember,\" Hilda\nsaid thoughtfully.\n\n\"I hope so. Now let's go to some awfully jolly place for dinner before\nwe go home. I could eat all the dinners there are in London to-night.\nWhere shall I tell the driver? The Piccadilly Restaurant? The music's\ngood there.\"\n\n\"There are too many people there whom one knows. Why not that little\nFrench place in Soho, where we went so often when you were here in\nthe summer? I love it, and I've never been there with any one but you.\nSometimes I go by myself, when I am particularly lonely.\"\n\n\"Very well, the sole's good there. How many street pianos there are\nabout to-night! The fine weather must have thawed them out. We've had\nfive miles of `Il Trovatore' now. They always make me feel jaunty. Are\nyou comfy, and not too tired?\"\n\n\"I'm not tired at all. I was just wondering how people can ever die.\nWhy did you remind me of the mummy? Life seems the strongest and most\nindestructible thing in the world. Do you really believe that all those\npeople rushing about down there, going to good dinners and clubs and\ntheatres, will be dead some day, and not care about anything? I don't\nbelieve it, and I know I shan't die, ever! You see, I feel too--too\npowerful!\"\n\nThe carriage stopped. Bartley sprang out and swung her quickly to\nthe pavement. As he lifted her in his two hands he whispered: \"You\nare--powerful!\"\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\nThe last rehearsal was over, a tedious dress rehearsal which had lasted\nall day and exhausted the patience of every one who had to do with it.\nWhen Hilda had dressed for the street and came out of her dressing-room,\nshe found Hugh MacConnell waiting for her in the corridor.\n\n\"The fog's thicker than ever, Hilda. There have been a great many\naccidents to-day. It's positively unsafe for you to be out alone. Will\nyou let me take you home?\"\n\n\"How good of you, Mac. If you are going with me, I think I'd rather\nwalk. I've had no exercise to-day, and all this has made me nervous.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't wonder,\" said MacConnell dryly. Hilda pulled down her\nveil and they stepped out into the thick brown wash that submerged St.\nMartin's Lane. MacConnell took her hand and tucked it snugly under his\narm. \"I'm sorry I was such a savage. I hope you didn't think I made an\nass of myself.\"\n\n\"Not a bit of it. I don't wonder you were peppery. Those things are\nawfully trying. How do you think it's going?\"\n\n\"Magnificently. That's why I got so stirred up. We are going to hear\nfrom this, both of us. And that reminds me; I've got news for you. They\nare going to begin repairs on the theatre about the middle of March, and\nwe are to run over to New York for six weeks. Bennett told me yesterday\nthat it was decided.\"\n\nHilda looked up delightedly at the tall gray figure beside her. He\nwas the only thing she could see, for they were moving through a dense\nopaqueness, as if they were walking at the bottom of the ocean.\n\n\"Oh, Mac, how glad I am! And they love your things over there, don't\nthey?\"\n\n\"Shall you be glad for--any other reason, Hilda?\"\n\nMacConnell put his hand in front of her to ward off some dark object. It\nproved to be only a lamp-post, and they beat in farther from the edge of\nthe pavement.\n\n\"What do you mean, Mac?\" Hilda asked nervously.\n\n\"I was just thinking there might be people over there you'd be glad to\nsee,\" he brought out awkwardly. Hilda said nothing, and as they walked\non MacConnell spoke again, apologetically: \"I hope you don't mind my\nknowing about it, Hilda. Don't stiffen up like that. No one else knows,\nand I didn't try to find out anything. I felt it, even before I knew who\nhe was. I knew there was somebody, and that it wasn't I.\"\n\nThey crossed Oxford Street in silence, feeling their way. The busses had\nstopped running and the cab-drivers were leading their horses. When\nthey reached the other side, MacConnell said suddenly, \"I hope you are\nhappy.\"\n\n\"Terribly, dangerously happy, Mac,\"--Hilda spoke quietly, pressing the\nrough sleeve of his greatcoat with her gloved hand.\n\n\"You've always thought me too old for you, Hilda,--oh, of course you've\nnever said just that,--and here this fellow is not more than eight years\nyounger than I. I've always felt that if I could get out of my old case\nI might win you yet. It's a fine, brave youth I carry inside me, only\nhe'll never be seen.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, Mac. That has nothing to do with it. It's because you seem\ntoo close to me, too much my own kind. It would be like marrying Cousin\nMike, almost. I really tried to care as you wanted me to, away back in\nthe beginning.\"\n\n\"Well, here we are, turning out of the Square. You are not angry with\nme, Hilda? Thank you for this walk, my dear. Go in and get dry things on\nat once. You'll be having a great night to-morrow.\"\n\nShe put out her hand. \"Thank you, Mac, for everything. Good-night.\"\n\nMacConnell trudged off through the fog, and she went slowly upstairs.\nHer slippers and dressing gown were waiting for her before the fire. \"I\nshall certainly see him in New York. He will see by the papers that we\nare coming. Perhaps he knows it already,\" Hilda kept thinking as she\nundressed. \"Perhaps he will be at the dock. No, scarcely that; but I may\nmeet him in the street even before he comes to see me.\" Marie placed\nthe tea-table by the fire and brought Hilda her letters. She looked them\nover, and started as she came to one in a handwriting that she did not\noften see; Alexander had written to her only twice before, and he did\nnot allow her to write to him at all. \"Thank you, Marie. You may go\nnow.\"\n\n\nHilda sat down by the table with the letter in her hand, still unopened.\nShe looked at it intently, turned it over, and felt its thickness with\nher fingers. She believed that she sometimes had a kind of second-sight\nabout letters, and could tell before she read them whether they brought\ngood or evil tidings. She put this one down on the table in front of her\nwhile she poured her tea. At last, with a little shiver of expectancy,\nshe tore open the envelope and read:--\n\n\nBoston, February --\n\nMY DEAR HILDA:--\n\nIt is after twelve o'clock. Every one else is in bed and I am sitting\nalone in my study. I have been happier in this room than anywhere else\nin the world. Happiness like that makes one insolent. I used to think\nthese four walls could stand against anything. And now I scarcely know\nmyself here. Now I know that no one can build his security upon the\nnobleness of another person. Two people, when they love each other,\ngrow alike in their tastes and habits and pride, but their moral natures\n(whatever we may mean by that canting expression) are never welded. The\nbase one goes on being base, and the noble one noble, to the end.\n\nThe last week has been a bad one; I have been realizing how things used\nto be with me. Sometimes I get used to being dead inside, but lately it\nhas been as if a window beside me had suddenly opened, and as if all the\nsmells of spring blew in to me. There is a garden out there, with stars\noverhead, where I used to walk at night when I had a single purpose and\na single heart. I can remember how I used to feel there, how beautiful\neverything about me was, and what life and power and freedom I felt in\nmyself. When the window opens I know exactly how it would feel to be out\nthere. But that garden is closed to me. How is it, I ask myself, that\neverything can be so different with me when nothing here has changed?\nI am in my own house, in my own study, in the midst of all these quiet\nstreets where my friends live. They are all safe and at peace with\nthemselves. But I am never at peace. I feel always on the edge of danger\nand change.\n\nI keep remembering locoed horses I used to see on the range when I was\na boy. They changed like that. We used to catch them and put them up in\nthe corral, and they developed great cunning. They would pretend to eat\ntheir oats like the other horses, but we knew they were always scheming\nto get back at the loco.\n\nIt seems that a man is meant to live only one life in this world. When\nhe tries to live a second, he develops another nature. I feel as if\na second man had been grafted into me. At first he seemed only a\npleasure-loving simpleton, of whose company I was rather ashamed, and\nwhom I used to hide under my coat when I walked the Embankment, in\nLondon. But now he is strong and sullen, and he is fighting for his\nlife at the cost of mine. That is his one activity: to grow strong. No\ncreature ever wanted so much to live. Eventually, I suppose, he will\nabsorb me altogether. Believe me, you will hate me then.\n\nAnd what have you to do, Hilda, with this ugly story? Nothing at all.\nThe little boy drank of the prettiest brook in the forest and he became\na stag. I write all this because I can never tell it to you, and because\nit seems as if I could not keep silent any longer. And because I suffer,\nHilda. If any one I loved suffered like this, I'd want to know it. Help\nme, Hilda!\n\nB.A.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n\nOn the last Saturday in April, the New York \"Times\" published an account\nof the strike complications which were delaying Alexander's New Jersey\nbridge, and stated that the engineer himself was in town and at his\noffice on West Tenth Street.\n\nOn Sunday, the day after this notice appeared, Alexander worked all day\nat his Tenth Street rooms. His business often called him to New York,\nand he had kept an apartment there for years, subletting it when he went\nabroad for any length of time. Besides his sleeping-room and bath, there\nwas a large room, formerly a painter's studio, which he used as a\nstudy and office. It was furnished with the cast-off possessions of his\nbachelor days and with odd things which he sheltered for friends of\nhis who followed itinerant and more or less artistic callings. Over the\nfireplace there was a large old-fashioned gilt mirror. Alexander's big\nwork-table stood in front of one of the three windows, and above the\ncouch hung the one picture in the room, a big canvas of charming color\nand spirit, a study of the Luxembourg Gardens in early spring, painted\nin his youth by a man who had since become a portrait-painter of\ninternational renown. He had done it for Alexander when they were\nstudents together in Paris.\n\n\nSunday was a cold, raw day and a fine rain fell continuously. When\nAlexander came back from dinner he put more wood on his fire, made\nhimself comfortable, and settled down at his desk, where he began\nchecking over estimate sheets. It was after nine o'clock and he was\nlighting a second pipe, when he thought he heard a sound at his door.\nHe started and listened, holding the burning match in his hand; again\nhe heard the same sound, like a firm, light tap. He rose and crossed the\nroom quickly. When he threw open the door he recognized the figure that\nshrank back into the bare, dimly lit hallway. He stood for a moment in\nawkward constraint, his pipe in his hand.\n\n\"Come in,\" he said to Hilda at last, and closed the door behind her. He\npointed to a chair by the fire and went back to his worktable. \"Won't\nyou sit down?\"\n\nHe was standing behind the table, turning over a pile of blueprints\nnervously. The yellow light from the student's lamp fell on his hands\nand the purple sleeves of his velvet smoking-jacket, but his flushed\nface and big, hard head were in the shadow. There was something about\nhim that made Hilda wish herself at her hotel again, in the street\nbelow, anywhere but where she was.\n\n\"Of course I know, Bartley,\" she said at last, \"that after this you\nwon't owe me the least consideration. But we sail on Tuesday. I saw that\ninterview in the paper yesterday, telling where you were, and I thought\nI had to see you. That's all. Good-night; I'm going now.\" She turned and\nher hand closed on the door-knob.\n\nAlexander hurried toward her and took her gently by the arm. \"Sit down,\nHilda; you're wet through. Let me take off your coat--and your boots;\nthey're oozing water.\" He knelt down and began to unlace her shoes,\nwhile Hilda shrank into the chair. \"Here, put your feet on this stool.\nYou don't mean to say you walked down--and without overshoes!\"\n\nHilda hid her face in her hands. \"I was afraid to take a cab. Can't you\nsee, Bartley, that I'm terribly frightened? I've been through this a\nhundred times to-day. Don't be any more angry than you can help. I was\nall right until I knew you were in town. If you'd sent me a note, or\ntelephoned me, or anything! But you won't let me write to you, and I had\nto see you after that letter, that terrible letter you wrote me when you\ngot home.\"\n\nAlexander faced her, resting his arm on the mantel behind him, and began\nto brush the sleeve of his jacket. \"Is this the way you mean to answer\nit, Hilda?\" he asked unsteadily.\n\nShe was afraid to look up at him. \"Didn't--didn't you mean even to say\ngoodby to me, Bartley? Did you mean just to--quit me?\" she asked. \"I\ncame to tell you that I'm willing to do as you asked me. But it's no use\ntalking about that now. Give me my things, please.\" She put her hand out\ntoward the fender.\n\nAlexander sat down on the arm of her chair. \"Did you think I had\nforgotten you were in town, Hilda? Do you think I kept away by accident?\nDid you suppose I didn't know you were sailing on Tuesday? There is a\nletter for you there, in my desk drawer. It was to have reached you on\nthe steamer. I was all the morning writing it. I told myself that if I\nwere really thinking of you, and not of myself, a letter would be better\nthan nothing. Marks on paper mean something to you.\" He paused. \"They\nnever did to me.\"\n\nHilda smiled up at him beautifully and put her hand on his sleeve. \"Oh,\nBartley! Did you write to me? Why didn't you telephone me to let me know\nthat you had? Then I wouldn't have come.\"\n\nAlexander slipped his arm about her. \"I didn't know it before, Hilda,\non my honor I didn't, but I believe it was because, deep down in me\nsomewhere, I was hoping I might drive you to do just this. I've watched\nthat door all day. I've jumped up if the fire crackled. I think I have\nfelt that you were coming.\" He bent his face over her hair.\n\n\"And I,\" she whispered,--\"I felt that you were feeling that. But when I\ncame, I thought I had been mistaken.\"\n\nAlexander started up and began to walk up and down the room.\n\n\"No, you weren't mistaken. I've been up in Canada with my bridge, and\nI arranged not to come to New York until after you had gone. Then, when\nyour manager added two more weeks, I was already committed.\" He dropped\nupon the stool in front of her and sat with his hands hanging between\nhis knees. \"What am I to do, Hilda?\"\n\n\"That's what I wanted to see you about, Bartley. I'm going to do\nwhat you asked me to do when you were in London. Only I'll do it more\ncompletely. I'm going to marry.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Oh, it doesn't matter much! One of them. Only not Mac. I'm too fond of\nhim.\"\n\nAlexander moved restlessly. \"Are you joking, Hilda?\"\n\n\"Indeed I'm not.\"\n\n\"Then you don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know very well. I've thought about it a great deal, and I've\nquite decided. I never used to understand how women did things like\nthat, but I know now. It's because they can't be at the mercy of the man\nthey love any longer.\"\n\nAlexander flushed angrily. \"So it's better to be at the mercy of a man\nyou don't love?\"\n\n\"Under such circumstances, infinitely!\"\n\nThere was a flash in her eyes that made Alexander's fall. He got up and\nwent over to the window, threw it open, and leaned out. He heard Hilda\nmoving about behind him. When he looked over his shoulder she was lacing\nher boots. He went back and stood over her.\n\n\"Hilda you'd better think a while longer before you do that. I don't\nknow what I ought to say, but I don't believe you'd be happy; truly I\ndon't. Aren't you trying to frighten me?\"\n\nShe tied the knot of the last lacing and put her boot-heel down firmly.\n\"No; I'm telling you what I've made up my mind to do. I suppose I\nwould better do it without telling you. But afterward I shan't have an\nopportunity to explain, for I shan't be seeing you again.\"\n\nAlexander started to speak, but caught himself. When Hilda rose he sat\ndown on the arm of her chair and drew her back into it.\n\n\"I wouldn't be so much alarmed if I didn't know how utterly reckless\nyou CAN be. Don't do anything like that rashly.\" His face grew troubled.\n\"You wouldn't be happy. You are not that kind of woman. I'd never have\nanother hour's peace if I helped to make you do a thing like that.\" He\ntook her face between his hands and looked down into it. \"You see, you\nare different, Hilda. Don't you know you are?\" His voice grew softer,\nhis touch more and more tender. \"Some women can do that sort of thing,\nbut you--you can love as queens did, in the old time.\"\n\nHilda had heard that soft, deep tone in his voice only once before. She\nclosed her eyes; her lips and eyelids trembled. \"Only one, Bartley. Only\none. And he threw it back at me a second time.\"\n\nShe felt the strength leap in the arms that held her so lightly.\n\n\"Try him again, Hilda. Try him once again.\"\n\nShe looked up into his eyes, and hid her face in her hands.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\nOn Tuesday afternoon a Boston lawyer, who had been trying a case in\nVermont, was standing on the siding at White River Junction when the\nCanadian Express pulled by on its northward journey. As the day-coaches\nat the rear end of the long train swept by him, the lawyer noticed at\none of the windows a man's head, with thick rumpled hair. \"Curious,\" he\nthought; \"that looked like Alexander, but what would he be doing back\nthere in the daycoaches?\"\n\nIt was, indeed, Alexander.\n\nThat morning a telegram from Moorlock had reached him, telling him that\nthere was serious trouble with the bridge and that he was needed there\nat once, so he had caught the first train out of New York. He had taken\na seat in a day-coach to avoid the risk of meeting any one he knew, and\nbecause he did not wish to be comfortable. When the telegram arrived,\nAlexander was at his rooms on Tenth Street, packing his bag to go to\nBoston. On Monday night he had written a long letter to his wife, but\nwhen morning came he was afraid to send it, and the letter was still in\nhis pocket. Winifred was not a woman who could bear disappointment. She\ndemanded a great deal of herself and of the people she loved; and\nshe never failed herself. If he told her now, he knew, it would be\nirretrievable. There would be no going back. He would lose the thing\nhe valued most in the world; he would be destroying himself and his own\nhappiness. There would be nothing for him afterward. He seemed to see\nhimself dragging out a restless existence on the Continent--Cannes,\nHyeres, Algiers, Cairo--among smartly dressed, disabled men of every\nnationality; forever going on journeys that led nowhere; hurrying to\ncatch trains that he might just as well miss; getting up in the morning\nwith a great bustle and splashing of water, to begin a day that had no\npurpose and no meaning; dining late to shorten the night, sleeping late\nto shorten the day.\n\nAnd for what? For a mere folly, a masquerade, a little thing that he\ncould not let go. AND HE COULD EVEN LET IT GO, he told himself. But he\nhad promised to be in London at mid-summer, and he knew that he would\ngo. . . . It was impossible to live like this any longer.\n\nAnd this, then, was to be the disaster that his old professor had\nforeseen for him: the crack in the wall, the crash, the cloud of dust.\nAnd he could not understand how it had come about. He felt that he\nhimself was unchanged, that he was still there, the same man he had been\nfive years ago, and that he was sitting stupidly by and letting some\nresolute offshoot of himself spoil his life for him. This new force was\nnot he, it was but a part of him. He would not even admit that it was\nstronger than he; but it was more active. It was by its energy that this\nnew feeling got the better of him. His wife was the woman who had made\nhis life, gratified his pride, given direction to his tastes and habits.\nThe life they led together seemed to him beautiful. Winifred still was,\nas she had always been, Romance for him, and whenever he was deeply\nstirred he turned to her. When the grandeur and beauty of the world\nchallenged him--as it challenges even the most self-absorbed people--he\nalways answered with her name. That was his reply to the question put\nby the mountains and the stars; to all the spiritual aspects of life.\nIn his feeling for his wife there was all the tenderness, all the pride,\nall the devotion of which he was capable. There was everything but\nenergy; the energy of youth which must register itself and cut its name\nbefore it passes. This new feeling was so fresh, so unsatisfied and\nlight of foot. It ran and was not wearied, anticipated him everywhere.\nIt put a girdle round the earth while he was going from New York to\nMoorlock. At this moment, it was tingling through him, exultant, and\nlive as quicksilver, whispering, \"In July you will be in England.\"\n\nAlready he dreaded the long, empty days at sea, the monotonous Irish\ncoast, the sluggish passage up the Mersey, the flash of the boat train\nthrough the summer country. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to\nthe feeling of rapid motion and to swift, terrifying thoughts. He was\nsitting so, his face shaded by his hand, when the Boston lawyer saw him\nfrom the siding at White River Junction.\n\nWhen at last Alexander roused himself, the afternoon had waned to\nsunset. The train was passing through a gray country and the sky\noverhead was flushed with a wide flood of clear color. There was a\nrose-colored light over the gray rocks and hills and meadows. Off to the\nleft, under the approach of a weather-stained wooden bridge, a group of\nboys were sitting around a little fire. The smell of the wood smoke blew\nin at the window. Except for an old farmer, jogging along the highroad\nin his box-wagon, there was not another living creature to be seen.\nAlexander looked back wistfully at the boys, camped on the edge of a\nlittle marsh, crouching under their shelter and looking gravely at their\nfire. They took his mind back a long way, to a campfire on a sandbar in\na Western river, and he wished he could go back and sit down with them.\nHe could remember exactly how the world had looked then.\n\nIt was quite dark and Alexander was still thinking of the boys, when it\noccurred to him that the train must be nearing Allway. In going to his\nnew bridge at Moorlock he had always to pass through Allway. The train\nstopped at Allway Mills, then wound two miles up the river, and then the\nhollow sound under his feet told Bartley that he was on his first bridge\nagain. The bridge seemed longer than it had ever seemed before, and he\nwas glad when he felt the beat of the wheels on the solid roadbed again.\nHe did not like coming and going across that bridge, or remembering the\nman who built it. And was he, indeed, the same man who used to walk that\nbridge at night, promising such things to himself and to the stars? And\nyet, he could remember it all so well: the quiet hills sleeping in the\nmoonlight, the slender skeleton of the bridge reaching out into the\nriver, and up yonder, alone on the hill, the big white house; upstairs,\nin Winifred's window, the light that told him she was still awake and\nstill thinking of him. And after the light went out he walked alone,\ntaking the heavens into his confidence, unable to tear himself away from\nthe white magic of the night, unwilling to sleep because longing was so\nsweet to him, and because, for the first time since first the hills were\nhung with moonlight, there was a lover in the world. And always there\nwas the sound of the rushing water underneath, the sound which, more\nthan anything else, meant death; the wearing away of things under the\nimpact of physical forces which men could direct but never circumvent or\ndiminish. Then, in the exaltation of love, more than ever it seemed to\nhim to mean death, the only other thing as strong as love. Under the\nmoon, under the cold, splendid stars, there were only those two things\nawake and sleepless; death and love, the rushing river and his burning\nheart.\n\nAlexander sat up and looked about him. The train was tearing on through\nthe darkness. All his companions in the day-coach were either dozing or\nsleeping heavily, and the murky lamps were turned low. How came he here\namong all these dirty people? Why was he going to London? What did it\nmean--what was the answer? How could this happen to a man who had lived\nthrough that magical spring and summer, and who had felt that the stars\nthemselves were but flaming particles in the far-away infinitudes of his\nlove?\n\nWhat had he done to lose it? How could he endure the baseness of life\nwithout it? And with every revolution of the wheels beneath him, the\nunquiet quicksilver in his breast told him that at midsummer he would be\nin London. He remembered his last night there: the red foggy darkness,\nthe hungry crowds before the theatres, the hand-organs, the feverish\nrhythm of the blurred, crowded streets, and the feeling of letting\nhimself go with the crowd. He shuddered and looked about him at the poor\nunconscious companions of his journey, unkempt and travel-stained, now\ndoubled in unlovely attitudes, who had come to stand to him for the\nugliness he had brought into the world.\n\nAnd those boys back there, beginning it all just as he had begun it; he\nwished he could promise them better luck. Ah, if one could promise any\none better luck, if one could assure a single human being of happiness!\nHe had thought he could do so, once; and it was thinking of that that he\nat last fell asleep. In his sleep, as if it had nothing fresher to work\nupon, his mind went back and tortured itself with something years and\nyears away, an old, long-forgotten sorrow of his childhood.\n\nWhen Alexander awoke in the morning, the sun was just rising through\npale golden ripples of cloud, and the fresh yellow light was vibrating\nthrough the pine woods. The white birches, with their little unfolding\nleaves, gleamed in the lowlands, and the marsh meadows were already\ncoming to life with their first green, a thin, bright color which\nhad run over them like fire. As the train rushed along the trestles,\nthousands of wild birds rose screaming into the light. The sky was\nalready a pale blue and of the clearness of crystal. Bartley caught\nup his bag and hurried through the Pullman coaches until he found the\nconductor. There was a stateroom unoccupied, and he took it and set\nabout changing his clothes. Last night he would not have believed that\nanything could be so pleasant as the cold water he dashed over his head\nand shoulders and the freshness of clean linen on his body.\n\nAfter he had dressed, Alexander sat down at the window and drew into his\nlungs deep breaths of the pine-scented air. He had awakened with all his\nold sense of power. He could not believe that things were as bad with\nhim as they had seemed last night, that there was no way to set them\nentirely right. Even if he went to London at midsummer, what would that\nmean except that he was a fool? And he had been a fool before. That was\nnot the reality of his life. Yet he knew that he would go to London.\n\nHalf an hour later the train stopped at Moorlock. Alexander sprang to\nthe platform and hurried up the siding, waving to Philip Horton, one\nof his assistants, who was anxiously looking up at the windows of the\ncoaches. Bartley took his arm and they went together into the station\nbuffet.\n\n\"I'll have my coffee first, Philip. Have you had yours? And now, what\nseems to be the matter up here?\"\n\nThe young man, in a hurried, nervous way, began his explanation.\n\nBut Alexander cut him short. \"When did you stop work?\" he asked sharply.\n\nThe young engineer looked confused. \"I haven't stopped work yet,\nMr. Alexander. I didn't feel that I could go so far without definite\nauthorization from you.\"\n\n\"Then why didn't you say in your telegram exactly what you thought, and\nask for your authorization? You'd have got it quick enough.\"\n\n\"Well, really, Mr. Alexander, I couldn't be absolutely sure, you know,\nand I didn't like to take the responsibility of making it public.\"\n\nAlexander pushed back his chair and rose. \"Anything I do can be made\npublic, Phil. You say that you believe the lower chords are showing\nstrain, and that even the workmen have been talking about it, and yet\nyou've gone on adding weight.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Mr. Alexander, but I had counted on your getting here\nyesterday. My first telegram missed you somehow. I sent one Sunday\nevening, to the same address, but it was returned to me.\"\n\n\"Have you a carriage out there? I must stop to send a wire.\"\n\nAlexander went up to the telegraph-desk and penciled the following\nmessage to his wife:--\n\nI may have to be here for some time. Can you come up at once? Urgent.\n\nBARTLEY.\n\n\nThe Moorlock Bridge lay three miles above the town. When they were\nseated in the carriage, Alexander began to question his assistant\nfurther. If it were true that the compression members showed strain,\nwith the bridge only two thirds done, then there was nothing to do\nbut pull the whole structure down and begin over again. Horton kept\nrepeating that he was sure there could be nothing wrong with the\nestimates.\n\nAlexander grew impatient. \"That's all true, Phil, but we never were\njustified in assuming that a scale that was perfectly safe for an\nordinary bridge would work with anything of such length. It's all very\nwell on paper, but it remains to be seen whether it can be done in\npractice. I should have thrown up the job when they crowded me. It's\nall nonsense to try to do what other engineers are doing when you know\nthey're not sound.\"\n\n\"But just now, when there is such competition,\" the younger man\ndemurred. \"And certainly that's the new line of development.\"\n\nAlexander shrugged his shoulders and made no reply.\n\nWhen they reached the bridge works, Alexander began his examination\nimmediately. An hour later he sent for the superintendent. \"I think you\nhad better stop work out there at once, Dan. I should say that the lower\nchord here might buckle at any moment. I told the Commission that we\nwere using higher unit stresses than any practice has established, and\nwe've put the dead load at a low estimate. Theoretically it worked out\nwell enough, but it had never actually been tried.\" Alexander put on\nhis overcoat and took the superintendent by the arm. \"Don't look so\nchopfallen, Dan. It's a jolt, but we've got to face it. It isn't the end\nof the world, you know. Now we'll go out and call the men off quietly.\nThey're already nervous, Horton tells me, and there's no use alarming\nthem. I'll go with you, and we'll send the end riveters in first.\"\n\nAlexander and the superintendent picked their way out slowly over the\nlong span. They went deliberately, stopping to see what each gang was\ndoing, as if they were on an ordinary round of inspection. When\nthey reached the end of the river span, Alexander nodded to the\nsuperintendent, who quietly gave an order to the foreman. The men in the\nend gang picked up their tools and, glancing curiously at each other,\nstarted back across the bridge toward the river-bank. Alexander himself\nremained standing where they had been working, looking about him. It was\nhard to believe, as he looked back over it, that the whole great span\nwas incurably disabled, was already as good as condemned, because\nsomething was out of line in the lower chord of the cantilever arm.\n\nThe end riveters had reached the bank and were dispersing among the\ntool-houses, and the second gang had picked up their tools and were\nstarting toward the shore. Alexander, still standing at the end of the\nriver span, saw the lower chord of the cantilever arm give a little,\nlike an elbow bending. He shouted and ran after the second gang, but by\nthis time every one knew that the big river span was slowly settling.\nThere was a burst of shouting that was immediately drowned by the scream\nand cracking of tearing iron, as all the tension work began to pull\nasunder. Once the chords began to buckle, there were thousands of tons\nof ironwork, all riveted together and lying in midair without support.\nIt tore itself to pieces with roaring and grinding and noises that were\nlike the shrieks of a steam whistle. There was no shock of any kind; the\nbridge had no impetus except from its own weight. It lurched neither\nto right nor left, but sank almost in a vertical line, snapping and\nbreaking and tearing as it went, because no integral part could bear for\nan instant the enormous strain loosed upon it. Some of the men jumped\nand some ran, trying to make the shore.\n\nAt the first shriek of the tearing iron, Alexander jumped from the\ndownstream side of the bridge. He struck the water without injury and\ndisappeared. He was under the river a long time and had great difficulty\nin holding his breath. When it seemed impossible, and his chest was\nabout to heave, he thought he heard his wife telling him that he could\nhold out a little longer. An instant later his face cleared the water.\nFor a moment, in the depths of the river, he had realized what it would\nmean to die a hypocrite, and to lie dead under the last abandonment of\nher tenderness. But once in the light and air, he knew he should live to\ntell her and to recover all he had lost. Now, at last, he felt sure of\nhimself. He was not startled. It seemed to him that he had been through\nsomething of this sort before. There was nothing horrible about it.\nThis, too, was life, and life was activity, just as it was in Boston\nor in London. He was himself, and there was something to be done;\neverything seemed perfectly natural. Alexander was a strong swimmer, but\nhe had gone scarcely a dozen strokes when the bridge itself, which had\nbeen settling faster and faster, crashed into the water behind him.\nImmediately the river was full of drowning men. A gang of French\nCanadians fell almost on top of him. He thought he had cleared them,\nwhen they began coming up all around him, clutching at him and at each\nother. Some of them could swim, but they were either hurt or crazed with\nfright. Alexander tried to beat them off, but there were too many of\nthem. One caught him about the neck, another gripped him about the\nmiddle, and they went down together. When he sank, his wife seemed to be\nthere in the water beside him, telling him to keep his head, that if he\ncould hold out the men would drown and release him. There was something\nhe wanted to tell his wife, but he could not think clearly for the\nroaring in his ears. Suddenly he remembered what it was. He caught his\nbreath, and then she let him go.\n\n\nThe work of recovering the dead went on all day and all the following\nnight. By the next morning forty-eight bodies had been taken out of the\nriver, but there were still twenty missing. Many of the men had fallen\nwith the bridge and were held down under the debris. Early on the\nmorning of the second day a closed carriage was driven slowly along the\nriver-bank and stopped a little below the works, where the river boiled\nand churned about the great iron carcass which lay in a straight line\ntwo thirds across it. The carriage stood there hour after hour, and word\nsoon spread among the crowds on the shore that its occupant was the wife\nof the Chief Engineer; his body had not yet been found. The widows of\nthe lost workmen, moving up and down the bank with shawls over their\nheads, some of them carrying babies, looked at the rusty hired hack many\ntimes that morning. They drew near it and walked about it, but none of\nthem ventured to peer within. Even half-indifferent sightseers dropped\ntheir voices as they told a newcomer: \"You see that carriage over there?\nThat's Mrs. Alexander. They haven't found him yet. She got off the train\nthis morning. Horton met her. She heard it in Boston yesterday--heard\nthe newsboys crying it in the street.\"\n\nAt noon Philip Horton made his way through the crowd with a tray and a\ntin coffee-pot from the camp kitchen. When he reached the carriage\nhe found Mrs. Alexander just as he had left her in the early morning,\nleaning forward a little, with her hand on the lowered window, looking\nat the river. Hour after hour she had been watching the water, the\nlonely, useless stone towers, and the convulsed mass of iron wreckage\nover which the angry river continually spat up its yellow foam.\n\n\"Those poor women out there, do they blame him very much?\" she asked, as\nshe handed the coffee-cup back to Horton.\n\n\"Nobody blames him, Mrs. Alexander. If any one is to blame, I'm afraid\nit's I. I should have stopped work before he came. He said so as soon as\nI met him. I tried to get him here a day earlier, but my telegram missed\nhim, somehow. He didn't have time really to explain to me. If he'd got\nhere Monday, he'd have had all the men off at once. But, you see, Mrs.\nAlexander, such a thing never happened before. According to all human\ncalculations, it simply couldn't happen.\"\n\nHorton leaned wearily against the front wheel of the cab. He had not had\nhis clothes off for thirty hours, and the stimulus of violent excitement\nwas beginning to wear off.\n\n\"Don't be afraid to tell me the worst, Mr. Horton. Don't leave me to the\ndread of finding out things that people may be saying. If he is blamed,\nif he needs any one to speak for him,\"--for the first time her voice\nbroke and a flush of life, tearful, painful, and confused, swept over\nher rigid pallor,--\"if he needs any one, tell me, show me what to do.\"\nShe began to sob, and Horton hurried away.\n\nWhen he came back at four o'clock in the afternoon he was carrying his\nhat in his hand, and Winifred knew as soon as she saw him that they had\nfound Bartley. She opened the carriage door before he reached her and\nstepped to the ground.\n\nHorton put out his hand as if to hold her back and spoke pleadingly:\n\"Won't you drive up to my house, Mrs. Alexander? They will take him up\nthere.\"\n\n\"Take me to him now, please. I shall not make any trouble.\"\n\nThe group of men down under the riverbank fell back when they saw a\nwoman coming, and one of them threw a tarpaulin over the stretcher. They\ntook off their hats and caps as Winifred approached, and although she\nhad pulled her veil down over her face they did not look up at her. She\nwas taller than Horton, and some of the men thought she was the tallest\nwoman they had ever seen. \"As tall as himself,\" some one whispered.\nHorton motioned to the men, and six of them lifted the stretcher\nand began to carry it up the embankment. Winifred followed them the\nhalf-mile to Horton's house. She walked quietly, without once breaking\nor stumbling. When the bearers put the stretcher down in Horton's spare\nbedroom, she thanked them and gave her hand to each in turn. The men\nwent out of the house and through the yard with their caps in their\nhands. They were too much confused to say anything as they went down the\nhill.\n\nHorton himself was almost as deeply perplexed. \"Mamie,\" he said to his\nwife, when he came out of the spare room half an hour later, \"will you\ntake Mrs. Alexander the things she needs? She is going to do everything\nherself. Just stay about where you can hear her and go in if she wants\nyou.\"\n\nEverything happened as Alexander had foreseen in that moment of\nprescience under the river. With her own hands she washed him clean of\nevery mark of disaster. All night he was alone with her in the still\nhouse, his great head lying deep in the pillow. In the pocket of his\ncoat Winifred found the letter that he had written her the night before\nhe left New York, water-soaked and illegible, but because of its length,\nshe knew it had been meant for her.\n\nFor Alexander death was an easy creditor. Fortune, which had smiled\nupon him consistently all his life, did not desert him in the end.\nHis harshest critics did not doubt that, had he lived, he would have\nretrieved himself. Even Lucius Wilson did not see in this accident the\ndisaster he had once foretold.\n\nWhen a great man dies in his prime there is no surgeon who can say\nwhether he did well; whether or not the future was his, as it seemed to\nbe. The mind that society had come to regard as a powerful and reliable\nmachine, dedicated to its service, may for a long time have been sick\nwithin itself and bent upon its own destruction.\n\n\n\nEPILOGUE\n\n\nProfessor Wilson had been living in London for six years and he was just\nback from a visit to America. One afternoon, soon after his return, he\nput on his frock-coat and drove in a hansom to pay a call upon Hilda\nBurgoyne, who still lived at her old number, off Bedford Square. He\nand Miss Burgoyne had been fast friends for a long time. He had first\nnoticed her about the corridors of the British Museum, where he read\nconstantly. Her being there so often had made him feel that he would\nlike to know her, and as she was not an inaccessible person, an\nintroduction was not difficult. The preliminaries once over, they came\nto depend a great deal upon each other, and Wilson, after his day's\nreading, often went round to Bedford Square for his tea. They had much\nmore in common than their memories of a common friend. Indeed, they\nseldom spoke of him. They saved that for the deep moments which do not\ncome often, and then their talk of him was mostly silence. Wilson knew\nthat Hilda had loved him; more than this he had not tried to know.\n\nIt was late when Wilson reached Hilda's apartment on this particular\nDecember afternoon, and he found her alone. She sent for fresh tea\nand made him comfortable, as she had such a knack of making people\ncomfortable.\n\n\"How good you were to come back before Christmas! I quite dreaded the\nHolidays without you. You've helped me over a good many Christmases.\"\nShe smiled at him gayly.\n\n\"As if you needed me for that! But, at any rate, I needed YOU. How well\nyou are looking, my dear, and how rested.\"\n\nHe peered up at her from his low chair, balancing the tips of his long\nfingers together in a judicial manner which had grown on him with years.\n\nHilda laughed as she carefully poured his cream. \"That means that I was\nlooking very seedy at the end of the season, doesn't it? Well, we must\nshow wear at last, you know.\"\n\nWilson took the cup gratefully. \"Ah, no need to remind a man of\nseventy, who has just been home to find that he has survived all his\ncontemporaries. I was most gently treated--as a sort of precious relic.\nBut, do you know, it made me feel awkward to be hanging about still.\"\n\n\"Seventy? Never mention it to me.\" Hilda looked appreciatively at the\nProfessor's alert face, with so many kindly lines about the mouth and\nso many quizzical ones about the eyes. \"You've got to hang about for\nme, you know. I can't even let you go home again. You must stay put, now\nthat I have you back. You're the realest thing I have.\"\n\nWilson chuckled. \"Dear me, am I? Out of so many conquests and the spoils\nof conquered cities! You've really missed me? Well, then, I shall hang.\nEven if you have at last to put ME in the mummy-room with the others.\nYou'll visit me often, won't you?\"\n\n\"Every day in the calendar. Here, your cigarettes are in this drawer,\nwhere you left them.\" She struck a match and lit one for him. \"But you\ndid, after all, enjoy being at home again?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. I found the long railway journeys trying. People live a\nthousand miles apart. But I did it thoroughly; I was all over the place.\nIt was in Boston I lingered longest.\"\n\n\"Ah, you saw Mrs. Alexander?\"\n\n\"Often. I dined with her, and had tea there a dozen different times,\nI should think. Indeed, it was to see her that I lingered on and on.\nI found that I still loved to go to the house. It always seemed as if\nBartley were there, somehow, and that at any moment one might hear his\nheavy tramp on the stairs. Do you know, I kept feeling that he must be\nup in his study.\" The Professor looked reflectively into the grate. \"I\nshould really have liked to go up there. That was where I had my last\nlong talk with him. But Mrs. Alexander never suggested it.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nWilson was a little startled by her tone, and he turned his head so\nquickly that his cuff-link caught the string of his nose-glasses and\npulled them awry. \"Why? Why, dear me, I don't know. She probably never\nthought of it.\"\n\nHilda bit her lip. \"I don't know what made me say that. I didn't mean to\ninterrupt. Go on please, and tell me how it was.\"\n\n\"Well, it was like that. Almost as if he were there. In a way, he really\nis there. She never lets him go. It's the most beautiful and dignified\nsorrow I've ever known. It's so beautiful that it has its compensations,\nI should think. Its very completeness is a compensation. It gives her\na fixed star to steer by. She doesn't drift. We sat there evening after\nevening in the quiet of that magically haunted room, and watched the\nsunset burn on the river, and felt him. Felt him with a difference, of\ncourse.\"\n\nHilda leaned forward, her elbow on her knee, her chin on her hand. \"With\na difference? Because of her, you mean?\"\n\nWilson's brow wrinkled. \"Something like that, yes. Of course, as\ntime goes on, to her he becomes more and more their simple personal\nrelation.\"\n\nHilda studied the droop of the Professor's head intently. \"You didn't\naltogether like that? You felt it wasn't wholly fair to him?\"\n\nWilson shook himself and readjusted his glasses. \"Oh, fair enough. More\nthan fair. Of course, I always felt that my image of him was just a\nlittle different from hers. No relation is so complete that it can\nhold absolutely all of a person. And I liked him just as he was; his\ndeviations, too; the places where he didn't square.\"\n\nHilda considered vaguely. \"Has she grown much older?\" she asked at last.\n\n\"Yes, and no. In a tragic way she is even handsomer. But colder. Cold\nfor everything but him. `Forget thyself to marble'; I kept thinking of\nthat. Her happiness was a happiness a deux, not apart from the world,\nbut actually against it. And now her grief is like that. She saves\nherself for it and doesn't even go through the form of seeing people\nmuch. I'm sorry. It would be better for her, and might be so good for\nthem, if she could let other people in.\"\n\n\"Perhaps she's afraid of letting him out a little, of sharing him with\nsomebody.\"\n\nWilson put down his cup and looked up with vague alarm. \"Dear me, it\ntakes a woman to think of that, now! I don't, you know, think we ought\nto be hard on her. More, even, than the rest of us she didn't choose her\ndestiny. She underwent it. And it has left her chilled. As to her not\nwishing to take the world into her confidence--well, it is a pretty\nbrutal and stupid world, after all, you know.\"\n\nHilda leaned forward. \"Yes, I know, I know. Only I can't help being glad\nthat there was something for him even in stupid and vulgar people. My\nlittle Marie worshiped him. When she is dusting I always know when she\nhas come to his picture.\"\n\nWilson nodded. \"Oh, yes! He left an echo. The ripples go on in all of\nus. He belonged to the people who make the play, and most of us are only\nonlookers at the best. We shouldn't wonder too much at Mrs. Alexander.\nShe must feel how useless it would be to stir about, that she may as\nwell sit still; that nothing can happen to her after Bartley.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hilda softly, \"nothing can happen to one after Bartley.\"\n\nThey both sat looking into the fire.\n\n\n\n *****\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE BARREL ORGAN by Alfred Noyes\n\n\n\n There's a barrel-organ caroling across a golden street,\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n And the music's not immortal; but the world has made it sweet\n And fulfilled it with the sunset glow;\n And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain\n That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light;\n And they've given it a glory and a part to play again\n In the Symphony that rules the day and the night.\n\n And now it's marching onward through the realms of old romance,\n And trolling out a fond familiar tune,\n And now it's roaring cannon down to fight the King of France,\n And now it's prattling softly to the moon,\n And all around the organ there's a sea without a shore\n Of human joys and wonders and regrets;\n To remember and to recompense the music evermore\n For what the cold machinery forgets. . . .\n\n Yes; as the music changes,\n Like a prismatic glass,\n It takes the light and ranges\n Through all the moods that pass;\n Dissects the common carnival\n Of passions and regrets,\n And gives the world a glimpse of all\n The colors it forgets.\n\n And there LA TRAVIATA sights\n Another sadder song;\n And there IL TROVATORE cries\n A tale of deeper wrong;\n And bolder knights to battle go\n With sword and shield and lance,\n Than ever here on earth below\n Have whirled into--A DANCE!--\n\n Go down to Kew in lilac time; in lilac time; in lilac time;\n Go down to Kew in lilac time; (it isn't far from London!)\n And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;\n Go down to Kew in lilac time; (it isn't far from London!)\n\n The cherry-trees are seas of bloom and soft perfume and sweet perfume,\n The cherry-trees are seas of bloom (and oh, so near to London!)\n And there they say, when dawn is high and all the world's a blaze of sky\n The cuckoo, though he's very shy, will sing a song for London.\n\n The nightingale is rather rare and yet they say you'll hear him there\n At Kew, at Kew in lilac time (and oh, so near to London!)\n The linnet and the throstle, too, and after dark the long halloo\n And golden-eyed TU-WHIT, TU WHOO of owls that ogle London.\n\n For Noah hardly knew a bird of any kind that isn't heard\n At Kew, at Kew in lilac time (and oh, so near to London!)\n And when the rose begins to pout and all the chestnut spires are out\n You'll hear the rest without a doubt, all chorusing for London:--\n\n COME DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC TIME; IN LILAC TIME; IN LILAC TIME;\n COME DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC TIME; (IT ISN'T FAR FROM LONDON!)\n AND YOU SHALL WANDER HAND IN HAND WITH LOVE IN SUMMER'S WONDERLAND;\n COME DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC TIME; (IT ISN'T FAR FROM LONDON!)\n\n And then the troubadour begins to thrill the golden street,\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n And in all the gaudy busses there are scores of weary feet\n Marking time, sweet time, with a dull mechanic beat,\n And a thousand hearts are plunging to a love they'll never meet,\n Through the meadows of the sunset, through the poppies and the wheat,\n In the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n Verdi, Verdi, when you wrote IL TROVATORE did you dream\n Of the City when the sun sinks low\n Of the organ and the monkey and the many-colored stream\n On the Piccadilly pavement, of the myriad eyes that seem\n To be litten for a moment with a wild Italian gleam\n As A CHE LA MORTE parodies the world's eternal theme\n And pulses with the sunset glow?\n\n There's a thief, perhaps, that listens with a face of frozen stone\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n There's a portly man of business with a balance of his own,\n There's a clerk and there's a butcher of a soft reposeful tone,\n And they're all them returning to the heavens they have known:\n They are crammed and jammed in busses and--they're each of them alone\n In the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n There's a very modish woman and her smile is very bland\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n And her hansom jingles onward, but her little jeweled hand\n Is clenched a little tighter and she cannot understand\n What she wants or why she wanders to that undiscovered land,\n For the parties there are not at all the sort of thing she planned,\n In the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n There's an Oxford man that listens and his heart is crying out\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n For the barge the eight, the Isis, and the coach's whoop and shout,\n For the minute gun, the counting and the long disheveled rout,\n For the howl along the tow-path and a fate that's still in doubt,\n For a roughened oar to handle and a race to think about\n In the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n There's a laborer that listen to the voices of the dead\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n And his hand begins to tremble and his face is rather red\n As he sees a loafer watching him and--there he turns his head\n And stares into the sunset where his April love is fled,\n For he hears her softly singing and his lonely soul is led\n Through the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n There's and old and hardened demi-rep, it's ringing in her ears,\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n With the wild and empty sorrow of the love that blights and sears,\n Oh, and if she hurries onward, then be sure, be sure she hears,\n Hears and bears the bitter burden of the unforgotten years,\n And her laugh's a little harsher and her eyes are brimmed with tears\n For the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n There's a barrel-organ caroling across a golden street,\n In the City as the sun sinks low;\n Though the music's only Verdi there's a world to make it sweet\n Just as yonder yellow sunset where the earth and heaven meet\n Mellows all the sooty City! Hark, a hundred thousand feet\n Are marching on to glory through the poppies and the wheat\n In the land where the dead dreams go.\n\n So it's Jeremiah, Jeremiah,\n What have you to say\n When you meet the garland girls\n Tripping on their way?\n\n All around my gala hat\n I wear a wreath of roses\n (A long and lonely year it is\n I've waited for the May!)\n\n If any one should ask you,\n The reason why I wear it is,\n My own love, my true love, is coming home to-day.\n\n It's buy a bunch of violets for the lady\n (IT'S LILAC TIME IN LONDON; IT'S LILAC TIME IN LONDON!)\n Buy a bunch of violets for the lady;\n While the sky burns blue above:\n\n On the other side of the street you'll find it shady\n (IT'S LILAC TIME IN LONDON; IT'S LILAC TIME IN LONDON!)\n But buy a bunch of violets for the lady;\n And tell her she's your own true love.\n\n There's a barrel-organ caroling across a golden street,\n In the City as the sun sinks glittering and slow;\n And the music's not immortal, but the world has made it sweet\n And enriched it with the harmonies that make a song complete\n In the deeper heavens of music where the night and morning meet,\n As it dies into the sunset glow;\n\n And it pulses through the pleasures of the City and the pain\n That surround the singing organ like a large eternal light,\n And they've given it a glory and a part of play again\n In the Symphony that rules the day and night.\n\n And there, as the music changes,\n The song runs round again;\n Once more it turns and ranges\n Through all its joy and pain:\n Dissects the common carnival\n Of passions and regrets;\n And the wheeling world remembers all\n The wheeling song forgets.\n\n Once more La TRAVIATA sighs\n Another sadder song:\n Once more IL TROVATORE cries\n A tale of deeper wrong;\n Once more the knights to battle go\n With sword and shield and lance,\n Till once, once more, the shattered foe\n Has whirled into--A DANCE--\n\n Come down to Kew in lilac time; in lilac time; in lilac time;\n Come down to Kew in lilac time; (it isn't far from London!)\n And you shall wander hand in hand with Love in summer's wonderland;\n Come down to Kew in lilac time; (it isn't far from London!)\n\n COME DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC TIME; IN LILAC TIME; IN LILAC TIME;\n COME DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC TIME; (IT ISN'T FAR FROM LONDON!)\n AND YOU SHALL WANDER HAND IN HAND WITH LOVE IN SUMMER'S WONDERLAND;\n COME DOWN TO KEW IN LILAC TIME; (IT ISN'T FAR FROM LONDON!)\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alexander's Bridge and The Barrel Organ, by \nWilla Cather and Alfred Noyes\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPETTICOAT RULE\n\nBY\n\nBARONESS ORCZY\n\nAUTHOR OF \"THE ELUSIVE PIMPERNEL,\" \"I WILL REPAY,\" \"THE SCARLET\nPIMPERNEL,\" ETC.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHODDER & STOUGHTON\nNEW YORK\nGEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY\n\n_Copyright, 1909,_\nBy Baroness Orczy\n\n_Copyright, 1910,_\nBy George H. Doran Company\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nTHEODORE WATTS-DUNTON\n\nTHE KIND FRIEND WHOSE APPRECIATION HAS CHEERED ME, THE\nIDEALIST WHOSE WORK HAS GUIDED ME, THE BRILLIANT\nINTELLECT WHOSE PRAISE HAS ENCOURAGED ME\n\nTHIS BOOK IS DEDICATED\n\nIN TOKEN OF ADMIRATION, REGARD, AND FRIENDSHIP\n\nEMMUSKA ORCZY\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nPART I\n\nTHE GIRL\n\nCHAPTER PAGE\n I.--A FAREWELL BANQUET 3\n II.--THE RULERS OF FRANCE 10\n III.--POMPADOUR'S CHOICE 23\n IV.--A WOMAN'S SURRENDER 32\n V.--THE FIRST TRICK 45\n VI.--A FALSE POSITION 51\n VII.--THE YOUNG PRETENDER 58\n VIII.--THE LAST TRICK 72\n IX.--THE WINNING HAND 82\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHE STATESMAN\n\n X.--THE BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK 95\n XI.--LA BELLE IRENE 103\n XII.--THE PROMISES OF FRANCE 112\n XIII.--THE WEIGHT OF ETIQUETTE 127\n XIV.--ROYAL FAVOURS 136\n XV.--DIPLOMACY 148\n XVI.--STRANGERS 160\n\n\nPART III\n\nTHE WOMAN\n\n XVII.--SPLENDID ISOLATION 179\n XVIII.--CLEVER TACTICS 185\n XIX.--A CRISIS 201\n XX.--A FAREWELL 212\n XXI.--ROYAL THANKS 215\n XXII.--PATERNAL ANXIETY 221\n XXIII.--THE QUEEN'S SOIREE 228\n XXIV.--GOSSIP 233\n XXV.--THE FIRST DOUBT 238\n XXVI.--THE AWFUL CERTITUDE 245\n XXVII.--A FALL 267\n XXVIII.--HUSBAND AND WIFE 276\n XXIX.--THE FATE OF THE STUART PRINCE 294\n XXX.--M. DE STAINVILLE'S SECONDS 308\n XXXI.--THE FINAL DISAPPOINTMENT 321\n XXXII.--THE DAWN 328\n XXXIII.--THE RIDE 333\n XXXIV.--\"LE MONARQUE\" 338\n XXXV.--THE STRANGER 349\n XXXVI.--REVENGE 359\n XXXVII.--THE LETTER 370\nXXXVIII.--THE HOME IN ENGLAND 375\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nTHE GIRL\n\n\n\n\nPETTICOAT RULE\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nA FAREWELL BANQUET\n\n\n\"D'Aumont!\"\n\n\"Eh? d'Aumont!\"\n\nThe voice, that of a man still in the prime of life, but already\nraucous in its tone, thickened through constant mirthless laughter,\nrendered querulous too from long vigils kept at the shrine of\npleasure, rose above the incessant babel of women's chatter, the din\nof silver, china and glasses passing to and fro.\n\n\"Your commands, sire?\"\n\nM. le Duc d'Aumont, Marshal of France, prime and sole responsible\nMinister of Louis the Well-beloved, leant slightly forward, with\nelbows resting on the table, and delicate hands, with fingers\ninterlaced, white and carefully tended as those of a pretty woman,\nsupporting his round and somewhat fleshy chin.\n\nA handsome man M. le Duc, still on the right side of fifty, courtly\nand pleasant-mannered to all. Has not Boucher immortalized the\ngood-natured, rather weak face, with that perpetual smile of unruffled\namiability forever lurking round the corners of the full-lipped mouth?\n\n\"Your commands, sire?\"\n\nHis eyes--gray and prominent--roamed with a rapid movement of enquiry\nfrom the face of the king to that of a young man with fair, curly\nhair, worn free from powder, and eyes restless and blue, which stared\nmoodily into a goblet full of wine.\n\nThere was a momentary silence in the vast and magnificent dining hall,\nthat sudden hush which--so the superstitious aver--descends three\ntimes on every assembly, however gay, however brilliant or\nthoughtless: the hush which to the imaginative mind suggests the\nflutter of unseen wings.\n\nThen the silence was broken by loud laughter from the King.\n\n\"They are mad, these English, my friend! What?\" said Louis the\nWell-beloved with a knowing wink directed at the fair-haired young man\nwho sat not far from him.\n\n\"Mad, indeed, sire?\" replied the Duke. \"But surely not more\nconspicuously so to-night than at any other time?\"\n\n\"Of a truth, a hundred thousand times more so,\" here interposed a\nsomewhat shrill feminine voice--\"and that by the most rigid rules of\nbrain-splitting arithmetic!\"\n\nEveryone listened. Conversations were interrupted; glasses were put\ndown; eager, attentive faces turned toward the speaker; this was no\nless a personage than Jeanne Poisson now Marquise de Pompadour; and\nwhen she opened her pretty mouth Louis the Well-beloved, descendant of\nSaint Louis, King of France and of all her dominions beyond the seas,\nhung breathless upon those well-rouged lips, whilst France sat silent\nand listened, eager for a share of that smile which enslaved a King\nand ruined a nation.\n\n\"Let us have that rigid rule of arithmetic, fair one,\" said Louis\ngaily, \"by which you can demonstrate to us that M. le Chevalier here\nis a hundred thousand times more mad than any of his accursed\ncountrymen.\"\n\n\"Nay, sire, 'tis simple enough,\" rejoined the lady. \"M. le Chevalier\nhath need of a hundred thousand others in order to make his insanity\ncomplete, a hundred thousand Englishmen as mad as April fishes, to\nhelp him conquer a kingdom of rain and fogs. Therefore I say he is a\nhundred thousand times more mad than most!\"\n\nLoud laughter greeted this sally. Mme. la Marquise de Pompadour, so\nlittle while ago simply Jeanne Poisson or Mme. d'Etioles, was not yet\n_blasee_ to so much adulation and such fulsome flattery; she looked a\nveritable heaven of angelic smiles; her eyes blue--so her dithyrambic\nchroniclers aver--as the dark-toned myosotis, wandered from face to\nface along the length of that gorgeously spread supper table, round\nwhich was congregated the flower of the old aristocracy of France.\n\nShe gleaned an admiring glance here, an unspoken murmur of flattery\nthere, even the women--and there were many--tried to look approvingly\nat her who ruled the King and France. One face alone remained\ninscrutable and almost severe, the face of a woman--a mere girl--with\nstraight brow and low, square forehead, crowned with a wealth of soft\nbrown hair, the rich tones of which peeped daringly through the\nconventional mist of powder.\n\nMme. de Pompadour's sunny smile disappeared momentarily when her eyes\nrested on this girl's face; a frown--oh! hardly that; but a shadow,\nshall we say?--marred the perfect purity of her brow. The next moment\nshe had yielded her much-beringed hand to her royal worshipper's\neager grasp and he was pressing a kiss on each rose-tipped finger,\nwhilst she shrugged her pretty shoulders.\n\n\"Brrr!\" she said, with a mock shiver, \"here is Mlle. d'Aumont frowning\nstern disapproval at me. Surely, Chevalier,\" she asked, turning to the\nyoung man beside her, \"a comfortable armchair in your beautiful palace\nof St. Germain is worth a throne in mist-bound London?\"\n\n\"Not when that throne is his by right,\" here interposed Mlle. d'Aumont\nquietly. \"The palace of St. Germain is but a gift to the King of\nEngland, for which he owes gratitude to the King of France.\"\n\nA quick blush now suffused the cheeks of the young man, who up to now\nhad seemed quite unconscious of Mme. de Pompadour's sallies or of the\nhilarity directed against himself. He gave a rapid glance at Mlle.\nd'Aumont's haughty, somewhat imperious face and at the delicate mouth,\nround which an almost imperceptible curl of contempt seemed still to\nlinger.\n\n\"La! Mademoiselle,\" rejoined the Marquise, with some acerbity, \"do we\nnot all hold gifts at the hands of the King of France?\"\n\n\"We have no sovereignty of our own, Madame,\" replied the young girl\ndrily.\n\n\"As for me,\" quoth King Louis, hastily interposing in this feminine\npassage of arms, \"I drink to our gallant Chevalier de St. George, His\nMajesty King Charles Edward Stuart of England, Scotland, Wales, and of\nthe whole of that fog-ridden kingdom. Success to your cause,\nChevalier,\" he added, settling his fat body complacently in the\ncushions of his chair; and raising his glass, he nodded benignly\ntoward the young Pretender.\n\n\"To King Charles Edward of England!\" rejoined Mme. de Pompadour gaily.\n\nAnd \"To King Charles Edward of England!\" went echoing all around the\nvast banqueting-hall.\n\n\"I thank you all,\" said the young man, whose sullen mood seemed in no\nway dissipated at these expressions of graciousness and friendship.\n\"Success to my cause is assured if France will lend me the aid she\npromised.\"\n\n\"What right have you to doubt the word of France, Monseigneur?\"\nretorted Mlle. d'Aumont earnestly.\n\n\"A truce! a truce! I entreat,\" here broke in King Louis with mock\nconcern. \"_Par Dieu_, this is a banquet and not a Council Chamber! Joy\nof my life,\" he added, turning eyes replete with admiration on the\nbeautiful woman beside him, \"do not allow politics to mar this\npleasant entertainment. M. le Duc, you are our host, I pray you direct\nconversation into more pleasing channels.\"\n\nNothing loth, the brilliant company there present quickly resumed the\nirresponsible chatter which was far more to its liking than talk of\nthrones and doubtful causes. The flunkeys in gorgeous liveries made\nthe round of the table, filling the crystal glasses with wine. The\natmosphere was heavy with the fumes of past good cheer, and the scent\nof a thousand roses fading beneath the glare of innumerable\nwax-candles. An odour of perfume, of powder and cosmetics hovered in\nthe air; the men's faces looked red and heated; on one or two heads\nthe wig stood awry, whilst trembling fingers began fidgeting with the\nlace-cravats at the throat.\n\nCharles Edward's restless blue eyes searched keenly and feverishly the\nfaces around him; morose, gloomy, he was still reckoning in his mind\nhow far he could trust these irresponsible pleasure-lovers, that\ndescendant of the great Louis over there, fat of body and heavy of\nmind, lost to all sense of kingly dignity whilst squandering the\nnation's money on the whims and caprices of the ex-wife of a Parisian\nvictualler, whom he had created Marquise de Pompadour.\n\nThese men who lived only for good cheer, for heady wines, games of\ndice and hazard, nights of debauch and illicit pleasures, what help\nwould they be to him in the hour of need? What support in case of\nfailure?\n\n\"What right have you to doubt the word of France?\" was asked of him by\none pair of proud lips--a woman's, only a girl's.\n\nCharles Edward looked across the table at Mlle. d'Aumont. Like\nhimself, she sat silent in the midst of the noisy throng, obviously\nlending a very inattentive ear to the whisperings of the handsome\ncavalier beside her.\n\nAh! if they were all like her, if she were a representative of the\nwhole nation of France, the young adventurer would have gone to his\nhazardous expedition with a stauncher and a lighter heart. But, as\nmatters stood, what could he expect? What had he got as a serious\nasset in this gamble for life and a throne? A few vague promises from\nthat flabby, weak-kneed creature over there on whom the crown of Saint\nLouis sat so strangely and so ill; a few smiles from that frivolous\nand vain woman, who drained the very heart's blood of an impoverished\nnation to its last drop, in order to satisfy her costly whims or chase\naway the frowns of ennui from the brow of an effete monarch.\n\nAnd what besides?\n\nA farewell supper, ringing toasts, good wine, expensive food offered\nby M. le Duc d'Aumont, the Prime Minister of France--a thousand roses,\nnow fading, which had cost a small fortune to coax into bloom; a\nhandshake from his friends in France; a \"God-speed\" and \"_Dieu vous\ngarde_, Chevalier!\" and a few words of stern encouragement from a\ngirl.\n\nWith all that in hand, Chevalier St. George, go and conquer your\nkingdom beyond the sea!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE RULERS OF FRANCE\n\n\nGreat activity reigned in the corridors and kitchens of the old\nchateau. M. le Chef--the only true rival the immortal Vatel ever\nhad--in white cap and apron, calm and self-possessed as a\nfield-marshal in the hour of victory, and surrounded by an army of\nscullions and wenches, was directing the operations of dishing-up--the\ncrowning glory of his arduous labours. Pies and patties, haunches of\nvenison, trout and carp from the Rhine were placed on gold and silver\ndishes and adorned with tasteful ornaments of truly architectural\nbeauty and monumental proportions. These were then handed over to the\nfootmen, who, resplendent in gorgeous liveries of scarlet and azure,\nhurried along the marble passages carrying the masterpieces of\nculinary art to the banqueting-hall beyond, whilst the butlers, more\nsedate and dignified in sober garb of puce or brown, stalked along in\nstately repose bearing the huge tankards and crystal jugs.\n\nAll of the best that the fine old Chateau d'Aumont could provide was\nbeing requisitioned to-night, since M. le Duc and Mlle. Lydie, his\ndaughter, were giving a farewell banquet to Charles Edward Stuart by\nthe grace of God--if not by the will of the people--King of Great\nBritain and Ireland and all her dependencies beyond the seas.\n\nFor him speeches were made, toasts drunk and glasses raised; for him\nthe ducal veneries had been ransacked, the ducal cellars shorn of\ntheir most ancient possessions; for him M. le Chef had raged and\nstormed for five hours, had expended the sweat of his brow and the\nintricacies of his brain; for him the scullions' backs had smarted,\nthe wenches' cheeks had glowed, all to do honour to the only rightful\nKing of England about to quit the hospitable land of France in order\nto conquer that island kingdom which his grandfather had lost.\n\nBut in the noble _salle d'armes_, on the other hand, there reigned a\npompous and dignified silence, in strange contrast to the bustle and\nagitation of the kitchens and the noise of loud voices and laughter\nthat issued from the banqueting hall whenever a door was opened and\nquickly shut again.\n\nHere perfumed candles flickered in massive candelabra, shedding dim\ncircles of golden light on carved woodwork, marble floor, and\ndull-toned tapestries. The majestic lions of D'Aumont frowned stolidly\nfrom their high pedestals on this serene abode of peace and dignity,\none foot resting on the gilded shield with the elaborate coat-of-arms\nblazoned thereon in scarlet and azure, the other poised aloft as if in\nsolemn benediction.\n\nM. Joseph, own body servant to M. le Duc, in magnificent D'Aumont\nlivery, his cravat a marvel of costly simplicity, his elegant,\nwell-turned calves--encased in fine silk stockings--stretched lazily\nbefore him, was sprawling on the brocade-covered divan in the centre\nof the room.\n\nM. Benedict, equally resplendent in a garb of motley that recalled the\nheraldic colours of the Comte de Stainville, stood before him, not in\nan attitude of deference of course, but in one of easy friendship;\nwhilst M. Achille--a blaze of scarlet and gold--was holding out an\nelegant silver snuff-box to M. Joseph, who, without any superfluous\nmotion of his dignified person, condescended to take a pinch.\n\nWith arm and elbow held at a graceful angle, M. Joseph paused in the\nvery act of conveying the snuff to his delicate nostrils. He seemed to\nthink that the occasion called for a remark from himself, but\nevidently nothing very appropriate occurred to him for the moment, so\nafter a few seconds of impressive silence he finally partook of the\nsnuff, and then flicked off the grains of dust from his immaculate\nazure waistcoat with a lace-edged handkerchief.\n\n\"Where does your Marquis get his snuff?\" he asked with an easy\ngraciousness of manner.\n\n\"We get it direct from London,\" replied M. Achille sententiously. \"I\nam personally acquainted with Mme. Veronique, who is cook to Mme. de\nla Beaume and the sweetheart of Jean Laurent, own body-servant to\nGeneral de Puisieux. The old General is Chief of Customs at Havre, so\nyou see we pay no duty and get the best of snuff at a ridiculous\nprice.\"\n\n\"Ah! that's lucky for you, my good Eglinton,\" said M. Benedict, with a\nsigh. \"Your Marquis is a good sort, and as he is not personally\nacquainted with Mme. Veronique, I doubt not but he pays full price for\nhis snuff.\"\n\n\"One has to live, friend Stainville,\" quoth Achille solemnly--\"and I\nam not a fool!\"\n\n\"Exactly so; and with an English milor your life is an easy one,\nMonsieur.\"\n\n\"Comme-ci! comme-ca!\" nodded Achille deprecatingly.\n\n\"Le petit Anglais is very rich?\" suggested Benedict.\n\n\"Boundlessly so!\" quoth the other, with conscious pride.\n\n\"Now, if perchance you could see your way to introducing me to Mme.\nVeronique. Eh? I have to pay full price for my Count's snuff, and he\nwill have none but the best; but if I could get Mme. Veronique's\nprotection----\"\n\nAchille's manner immediately changed at this suggestion, made with\nbecoming diffidence; he drew back a few steps as if to emphasize the\ndistance which must of necessity lie between supplicant and patron. He\ntook a pinch of snuff, he blew his nose with stately deliberation--all\nin order to keep the petitioner waiting on tenterhooks.\n\nFinally he drew up his scarlet and gold shoulders until they almost\ntouched his ears.\n\n\"It will be difficult, very, very difficult my good Stainville,\" he\nsaid at last, speaking in measured tones. \"You see, Mme. Veronique is\nin a very delicate position; she has a great deal of influence of\ncourse, and it is not easy to obtain her protection. Still, I will see\nwhat I can do, and you can place your petition before her.\"\n\n\"Do not worry yourself, my good Eglinton,\" here interposed M. Benedict\nwith becoming hauteur. \"I thought as you had asked me yesterday to use\nmy influence with our Mlle. Mariette, the fiancee of Colonel\nJauffroy's third footman, with regard to your nephew's advancement in\nhis regiment, that perhaps---- But no matter--no matter!\" he added,\nwith a deprecatory wave of the hand.\n\n\"You completely misunderstood me, my dear Stainville,\" broke in M.\nAchille, eagerly. \"I said that the matter was difficult; I did not say\nthat it was impossible. Mme. Veronique is beset with petitions, but\nyou may rely on my friendship. I will obtain the necessary\nintroduction for you if you, on the other hand, will bear my nephew's\ninterests in mind.\"\n\n\"Say no more about it, my good Eglinton,\" said Benedict, with easy\ncondescension; \"your nephew will get his promotion on the word of a\nStainville.\"\n\nPeace and amity being once more restored between the two friends, M.\nJoseph thought that he had now remained silent far longer than was\ncompatible with his own importance.\n\n\"It is very difficult, of course, in our position,\" he said pompously,\n\"to do justice to the many demands which are made on our influence and\npatronage. Take my own case, for instance--my Duke leaves all\nappointments in my hands. In the morning, whilst I shave him, I have\nbut to mention a name to him in connection with any post under\nGovernment that happens to be vacant, and immediately the favoured\none, thus named by me, receives attention, nearly always followed by a\nnomination.\"\n\n\"Hem! hem!\" came very discreetly from the lips of M. Benedict.\n\n\"You said?\" queried Joseph, with a slight lifting of the right\neyebrow.\n\n\"Oh! nothing--nothing! I pray you continue; the matter is vastly\nentertaining.\"\n\n\"At the present moment,\" continued M. Joseph, keeping a suspicious eye\non the other man, \"I am deeply worried by this proposal which comes\nfrom the Parliaments of Rennes and Paris.\"\n\n\"A new Ministry of Finance to be formed,\" quoth M. Achille. \"We know\nall about it.\"\n\n\"With direct control of the nation's money and responsible to the\nParliaments alone,\" assented Joseph. \"The Parliaments! Bah!\" he added\nin tones of supreme contempt, \"_bourgeois_ the lot of them!\"\n\n\"Their demands are preposterous, so says my milor. 'Tis a marvel His\nMajesty has given his consent.\"\n\n\"I have advised my Duke not to listen to the rabble,\" said Joseph, as\nhe readjusted the set of his cravat. \"A Ministry responsible to the\nParliaments! Ridiculous, I say!\"\n\n\"I understand, though,\" here interposed M. Achille, \"that the\nParliaments, out of deference for His Majesty are willing that the\nKing himself shall appoint this new Comptroller of Finance.\"\n\n\"The King, my good Eglinton,\" calmly retorted M. Joseph--\"the King\nwill leave this matter to us. You may take it from me that we shall\nappoint this new Minister, and an extremely pleasant post it will be.\nComptroller of Finance! All the taxes to pass through the Minister's\nhands! Par Dieu! does it not open out a wide field for an ambitious\nman?\"\n\n\"Hem! hem!\" coughed M. Benedict again.\n\n\"You seem to be suffering from a cold, sir,\" said M. Joseph irritably.\n\n\"Not in the least,\" rejoined Benedict hastily--\"a slight tickling in\nthe throat. You were saying, M. Joseph, that you hoped this new\nappointment would fall within your sphere of influence.\"\n\n\"Nay! If you doubt me, my good Stainville----\" And M. Joseph rose with\nslow and solemn majesty from the divan, where he had been reclining,\nand walking across the room with a measured step, he reached an\nescritoire whereon ink and pens, letters tied up in bundles, loose\npapers, and all the usual paraphernalia commonly found on the desk of\na busy man. M. Joseph sat down at the table and rang a handbell.\n\nThe next moment a young footman entered, silent and deferential.\n\n\"Is any one in the ante-room, Paul?\" asked Joseph.\n\n\"Yes, M. Joseph.\"\n\n\"How many?\"\n\n\"About thirty persons.\"\n\n\"Go tell them, then, that M. Joseph is not receiving to-night. He is\nentertaining a circle of friends. Bring me all written petitions. I\nshall be visible in my dressing room to those who have a personal\nintroduction at eleven o'clock to-morrow. You may go!\"\n\nSilently as he had entered, the young man bowed and withdrew.\n\nM. Joseph wheeled round in his chair and turned to his friends with a\nlook of becoming triumph.\n\n\"Thirty persons!\" he remarked simply.\n\n\"All after this appointment?\" queried Achille.\n\n\"Their representatives, you see,\" explained M. Joseph airily. \"Oh! my\nante-chamber is always full--You understand? I shave my Duke every\nmorning; and every one, it seems to me, is wanting to control the\nfinances of France.\"\n\n\"Might one inquire who is your special _protege_?\" asked the other.\n\n\"Time will show,\" came with cryptic vagueness from the lips of M.\nJoseph.\n\n\"Hem! hem!\"\n\nIn addition to a slight tickling of the throat, M. Benedict seemed to\nbe suffering from an affection of the left eye which caused him to\nwink with somewhat persistent emphasis:\n\n\"This is the third time you have made that remark, Stainville,\" said\nJoseph severely.\n\n\"I did not remark, my dear D'Aumont,\" rejoined Benedict\npleasantly--\"that is, I merely said 'Hem! hem!'\"\n\n\"Even so, I heard you,\" said Joseph, with some acerbity; \"and I would\nwish to know precisely what you meant when you said 'Hem! hem!' like\nthat.\"\n\n\"I was thinking of Mlle. Lucienne,\" said Benedict, with a sentimental\nsigh.\n\n\"Indeed!\"\n\n\"Yes! I am one of her sweethearts--the fourth in point of favour.\nMlle. Lucienne has your young lady's ear, my good D'Aumont, and we all\nknow that your Duke governs the whole of France exactly as his\ndaughter wishes him to do.\"\n\n\"And you hope through Mlle. Lucienne's influence to obtain the new\npost of Comptroller for your own Count?\" asked M. Joseph, with assumed\ncarelessness, as he drummed a devil's tattoo on the table before him.\n\nA slight expression of fatuity crept into the countenance of M.\nBenedict. He did not wish to irritate the great man; at the same time\nhe felt confident in his own powers of blandishments where Mlle.\nLucienne was concerned, even though he only stood fourth in point of\nfavour in that influential lady's heart.\n\n\"Mlle. Lucienne has promised us her support,\" he said, with a\ncomplacent smile.\n\n\"I fear me that will be of little avail,\" here interposed M. Achille.\n\"We have on our side, the influence of Mme. Auguste Baillon, who is\nhousekeeper to M. le Docteur Dubois, consulting physician to Mlle.\nd'Aumont. M. le Docteur is very fond of haricots cooked in lard--a\ndish in the preparation of which Mme. Baillon excels--whilst, on the\nother hand, that lady's son is perruquier to my Eglinton. I think\nthere is no doubt that ours is the stronger influence, and that if\nthis Ministry of Finance comes into being, we shall be the Chief\nComptroller.\"\n\n\"Oh, it will come into being, without any doubt,\" said Benedict. \"I\nhave it from my cousin Francois, who is one of the sweethearts of\nMlle. Duprez, confidential maid to Mme. Aremberg, the jeweller's wife,\nthat the merchants of Paris and Lyons are not at all pleased with the\namount of money which the King and Mme. de Pompadour are spending.\"\n\n\"Exactly! People of that sort are a veritable pestilence. They want us\nto pay some of the taxes--the _corvee_ or the _taille_. As if a Duke\nor a Minister is going to pay taxes! Ridiculous!\"\n\n\"Ridiculous, I say,\" assented Achille, \"though my Marquis says that in\nEngland even noblemen pay taxes.\"\n\n\"Then we'll not go to England, friend Eglinton. Imagine shaving a Duke\nor a Marquis who had paid taxes like a shopkeeper!\"\n\nA chorus of indignation from the three gentleman rose at the\nsuggestion.\n\n\"Preposterous indeed!\"\n\n\"We all know that England is a nation of shopkeepers. M. de Voltaire,\nwho has been there, said so to us on his return.\"\n\nM. Achille, in view of the fact that he represented the Marquis of\nEglinton, commonly styled \"le petit Anglais,\" was not quite sure\nwhether his dignity demanded that he should resent this remark of M.\nde Voltaire's or not.\n\nFortunately he was saved from having to decide this delicate question\nimmediately by the reentry of Paul into the room.\n\nThe young footman was carrying a bundle of papers, which he\nrespectfully presented to M. Joseph on a silver tray. The great man\nlooked at Paul somewhat puzzled, rubbed his chin, and contemplated the\npapers with a thoughtful eye.\n\n\"What are these?\" he asked.\n\n\"The petitions, M. Joseph,\" replied the young man.\n\n\"Oh! Ah, yes!\" quoth the other airily. \"Quite so; but--I have no time\nto read them now. You may glance through them, Paul, and let me know\nif any are worthy of my consideration.\"\n\nM. Joseph was born in an epoch when reading was not considered an\nindispensable factor in a gentleman's education. Whether the petitions\nof the thirty aspirants to the new post of Comptroller of Finance\nwould subsequently be read by M. Paul or not it were impossible to\nsay; for the present he merely took up the papers again, saying quite\nrespectfully:\n\n\"Yes, M. Joseph.\"\n\n\"Stay! you may take cards, dice, and two flagons of Bordeaux into my\nboudoir.\"\n\n\"Yes, M. Joseph.\"\n\n\"Have you dismissed every one from the ante-chamber?\"\n\n\"All except an old man, who refuses to go.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\"\n\n\"I do not know; he----\"\n\nFurther explanation was interrupted by a timid voice issuing from the\nopen door.\n\n\"I only desire five minutes' conversation with M. le Duc d'Aumont.\"\n\nAnd a wizened little figure dressed in seedy black, with lean shanks\nencased in coarse woollen stockings, shuffled into the room. He seemed\nto be carrying a great number of papers and books under both arms, and\nas he stepped timidly forward some of these tumbled in a heap at his\nfeet.\n\n\"Only five minutes' conversation with M. le Duc.\"\n\nHis eyes were very pale, and very watery, and his hair was of a pale\nstraw colour. He stooped to pick up his papers, and dropped others in\nthe process.\n\n\"M. le Duc is not visible,\" said M. Joseph majestically.\n\n\"Perhaps a little later----\" suggested the lean individual.\n\n\"The Duke will not be visible later either.\"\n\n\"Then to-morrow perhaps; I can wait--I have plenty of time on my\nhands.\"\n\n\"You may have, but the Duke hasn't.\"\n\nIn the meanwhile the wizened little man had succeeded in once more\ncollecting his papers together. With trembling eager hands he now\nselected a folded note, which evidently had suffered somewhat through\nfrequent falls on dusty floors; this he held out toward M. Joseph.\n\n\"I have a letter to Monsieur le valet de chambre of the Duke,\" he said\nhumbly.\n\n\"A letter of introduction?--to me?\" queried Joseph, with a distinct\nchange in his manner and tone. \"From whom?\"\n\n\"My daughter Agathe, who brings Monsieur's chocolate in to him every\nmorning.\"\n\n\"Ah, you are Mlle. Agathe's father!\" exclaimed Joseph with pleasant\ncondescension, as he took the letter of introduction, and, without\nglancing at it, slipped it into the pocket of his magnificent coat.\nPerhaps a thought subsequently crossed his mind that the timorous\nperson before him was not quite so simple-minded as his watery blue\neyes suggested, and that the dusty and crumpled little note might be a\ndaring fraud practised on his own influential personality, for he\nadded with stern emphasis: \"I will see Mlle. Agathe to-morrow, and\nwill discuss your affair with her.\"\n\nThen, as the little man did not wince under the suggestion, M. Joseph\nsaid more urbanely:\n\n\"By the way, what is your affair? These gentlemen\"--and with a\ngraceful gesture he indicated his two friends--\"these gentlemen will\npardon the liberty you are taking in discussing it before them.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Monsieur; thank you, gentlemen,\" said the wizened\nindividual humbly; \"it is a matter of--er--figures.\"\n\n\"Figures!\"\n\n\"Yes! This new Ministry of Finance--there will be an auditor of\naccounts wanted--several auditors, I presume--and--and I thought----\"\n\n\"Yes?\" nodded M. Joseph graciously.\n\n\"My daughter does bring you in your chocolate nice and hot, M. Joseph,\ndoes she not?--and--and I do know a lot about figures. I studied\nmathematics with the late M. Descartes; I audited the books of the\nSociete des Comptables of Lyons for several years; and--and I have\ndiplomas and testimonials----\"\n\nAnd, carried away by another wave of anxiety, he began to fumble among\nhis papers and books, which with irritating perversity immediately\ntumbled pell-mell on to the floor.\n\n\"What in the devil's name is the good of testimonials and diplomas to\nus, my good man?\" said M. Joseph haughtily. \"If, on giving the matter\nmy serious consideration, I come to the conclusion that you will be a\nsuitable accountant in the new Ministerial Department, _ma foi_! my\ngood man, your affair is settled. No thanks, I pray!\" he added, with a\ngracious flourish of the arm; \"I have been pleased with Mlle. Agathe,\nand I may mention your name whilst I shave M. le Duc to-morrow. Er--by\nthe way, what is your name?\"\n\n\"Durand, if you please, M. Joseph.\"\n\nThe meagre little person with the watery blue eyes tried to express\nhis gratitude by word and gesture, but his books and papers encumbered\nhis movements, and he was rendered doubly nervous by the presence of\nthese gorgeous and stately gentlemen, and by the wave of voices and\nlaughter which suddenly rose from the distance, suggesting that\nperhaps a brilliant company might be coming this way.\n\nThe very thought seemed to completely terrify him; with both arms he\nhugged his various written treasures, and with many sideway bows and\nmurmurs of thanks he finally succeeded in shuffling his lean figure\nout of the room, closely followed by M. Paul.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nPOMPADOUR'S CHOICE\n\n\nM. Durand's retreat had fortunately occurred just in time; men's\nvoices and women's laughter sounded more and more distinct, as if\napproaching toward the _salle d'armes_.\n\nIn a moment, with the swiftness born of long usage, the demeanour of\nthe three gentlemen underwent a quick and sudden change. They seemed\nto pull their gorgeous figures together; with practised fingers each\nreadjusted the lace of his cravat, reestablished the correct set of\nhis waistcoat, and flickered the last grain of dust or snuff from the\nsatin-like surface of his coat.\n\nTen seconds later the great doors at the east end of the hall were\nthrown open, and through the embrasure and beyond the intervening\nmarble corridor could be seen the brilliantly lighted supper-room,\nwith its glittering company broken up into groups.\n\nSilent, swift and deferential, MM. Joseph, Benedict, and Achille\nglided on flat-heeled shoes along the slippery floors, making as\nlittle noise as possible, effacing their gorgeous persons in window\nrecesses or carved ornaments whenever a knot of gentlemen or ladies\nhappened to pass by.\n\nQuite a different trio now, MM. Joseph, Benedict, and Achille--just\nthree automatons intent on their duties.\n\nFrom the supper-room there came an incessant buzz of talk and\nlaughter. M. Joseph sought his master's eye, but M. le Duc was busy\nwith the King of England and wanted no service; M. Achille found his\nEnglish milor, \"le petit Anglais,\" engaged in conversation with his\nportly and somewhat overdressed mamma; whilst M. Benedict's master was\nnowhere to be found.\n\nThe older ladies were beginning to look wearied and hot, smothering\nyawns behind their painted fans. Paniers assumed a tired and crumpled\nappearance, and feathered aigrettes nodded dismally above the high\ncoiffures.\n\nNot a few of the guests had taken the opportunity of bringing cards or\ndice from a silken pocket, whilst others in smaller groups, younger\nand not yet wearied of desultory talk, strolled toward the _salle\nd'armes_ or the smaller boudoirs which opened out of the corridor.\n\nOne or two gentlemen had succumbed to M. le Duc's lavish hospitality;\nthe many toasts had proved too exacting, the copious draughts\naltogether too heady, and they had, somewhat involuntarily, exchanged\ntheir chairs for the more reliable solidity of the floor, where their\nfaithful attendants, stationed under the table for the purpose, deftly\nuntied a cravat which might be too tight or administered such cooling\nantidotes as might be desirable.\n\nThe hot air vibrated with the constant babel of voices, the frou-frou\nof silk paniers, and brocaded skirts, mingled with the clink of swords\nand the rattle of dice in satinwood boxes.\n\nThe atmosphere, surcharged with perfumes, had become overpoweringly\nclose.\n\nHis Majesty, flushed with wine, and with drowsy lids drooping over his\ndulled eyes, had pushed his chair away from the table and was\nlounging lazily toward Mme. de Pompadour, his idle fingers toying with\nthe jewelled girdle of her fan. She amused him; she had quaint sayings\nwhich were sometimes witty, always daring, but which succeeded in\ndissipating momentarily that mortal ennui of which he suffered.\n\nEven now her whispered conversation, interspersed with profuse\ngiggles, brought an occasional smile to the lips of the sleepy\nmonarch. She chatted and laughed, flirting her fan, humouring the\neffeminate creature beside her by yielding her hand and wrist to his\nflabby kisses. But her eyes did not rest on him for many seconds at a\ntime; she talked to Louis, but her mind had gone a-wandering about the\nroom trying to read thoughts, to search motives or divine hidden\nhatreds and envy as they concerned herself.\n\nThis glitter was still new to her; the power which she wielded seemed\nas yet a brittle toy which a hasty movement might suddenly break. It\nwas but a very little while ago that she had been an insignificant\nunit in a third-rate social circle of Paris--always beautiful, but\nlost in the midst of a drabby crowd, her charms, like those of a\nprecious stone, unperceived for want of proper setting. Her ambition\nwas smothered in her heart, which at times it almost threatened to\nconsume. But it was always there, ever since she had learnt to\nunderstand the power which beauty gives.\n\nAn approving smile from the King of France, and the world wore a\ndifferent aspect for Jeanne Poisson. Her whims and caprices became the\nreins with which she drove France and the King. Why place a limit to\nher own desires, since the mightiest monarch in Europe was ready to\ngratify them?\n\nMoney became her god.\n\nSpend! spend! spend! Why not? The nation, the bourgeoisie--of which\nshe had once been that little insignificant unit--was now the\nwell-spring whence she drew the means of satisfying her\never-increasing lust for splendour.\n\nJewels, dresses, palaces, gardens--all and everything that was rich,\nbeautiful, costly, she longed for it all!\n\nPictures and statuary; music, and of the best; constant noise around\nher, gaiety, festivities, laughter; the wit of France and the science\nof the world all had been her helpmeets these past two years in this\nwild chase after pleasure, this constant desire to kill her Royal\npatron's incurable ennui.\n\nTwo years, and already the nation grumbled! A check was to be put on\nher extravagance--hers and that of King Louis! The parliaments\ndemanded that some control be exercised over Royal munificence. Fewer\njewels for Madame! And that palace at Fontainebleau not yet completed,\nthe Parc aux Cerfs so magnificently planned and not even begun! Would\nthe new Comptroller put a check on that?\n\nAt first she marvelled that Louis should consent. It was a humiliation\nfor him as well as for her. The weakness in him which had served her\nown ends seemed monstrous when it yielded to pressure from others.\n\nHe had assured her that she should not suffer; jewels, palaces,\ngardens, she should have all as heretofore. Let Parliament insist and\ngrumble, but the Comptroller would be appointed by D'Aumont, and\nD'Aumont was her slave.\n\nD'Aumont, yes! but not his daughter--that arrogant girl with the\nsevere eyes, unwomanly and dictatorial, who ruled her father just as\nshe herself, Pompadour, ruled the King.\n\nAn enemy, that Lydie d'Aumont! Mme. la Marquise, whilst framing a\nwitticism at which the King smiled, frowned because in a distant\nalcove she spied the haughty figure of Lydie.\n\nAnd there were others! The friends of the Queen and her clique, of\ncourse; they were not here to-night; at least not in great numbers;\nstill, even the present brilliant company, though smiling and\nobsequious in the presence of the King, was not by any means a close\nphalanx of friends.\n\nM. d'Argenson, for instance--he was an avowed enemy; and Marshal de\nNoailles, too--oh! and there were others.\n\nOne of them, fortunately, was going away; Charles Edward Stuart,\naspiring King of England; he had been no friend of Pompadour. Even\nnow, as he stood close by, lending an obviously inattentive ear to M.\nle Duc d'Aumont, she could see that he still looked gloomy and out of\nhumour, and that whenever his eyes rested upon her and the King he\nfrowned with wrathful impatience.\n\n\"You are distraite, ma mie!\" said Louis, with a yawn.\n\n\"I was thinking, sire,\" she replied, smiling into his drowsy eyes.\n\n\"For God's sake, I entreat, do not think!\" exclaimed the King, with\nmock alarm. \"Thought produces wrinkles, and your perfect mouth was\nonly fashioned for smiles.\"\n\n\"May I frame a suggestion?\" she queried archly.\n\n\"No, only a command.\"\n\n\"This Comptroller of Finance, your future master, Louis, and mine----\"\n\n\"Your slave,\" he interrupted lazily, \"and he values his life.\"\n\n\"Why not milor Eglinton?\"\n\n\"Le petit Anglais?\" and Louis's fat body was shaken with sudden\nimmoderate laughter. \"Par Dieu, ma mie! Of all your witty sallies this\none hath pleased us most.\"\n\n\"Why?\" she asked seriously.\n\n\"Le petit Anglais!\" again laughed the King. \"I'd as soon give the\nappointment to your lapdog, Marquise. Fido would have as much capacity\nfor the post as the ornamental cypher that hangs on his mother's\nskirts.\"\n\n\"Milor Eglinton is very rich,\" she mused.\n\n\"Inordinately so, curse him! I could do with half his revenue and be a\nsatisfied man.\"\n\n\"Being a cypher he would not trouble us much; being very rich he would\nneed no bribe for doing as we wish.\"\n\n\"His lady mother would trouble us, ma mie.\"\n\n\"Bah! we would find him a wife.\"\n\n\"Nay! I entreat you do not worry your dainty head with these matters,\"\nsaid the King, somewhat irritably. \"The appointment rests with\nD'Aumont; an you desire the post for your protege, turn your bright\neyes on the Duke.\"\n\nPompadour would have wished to pursue the subject, to get something of\na promise from Louis, to turn his inveterate weakness then and there\nto her own account, but Louis the Well-beloved yawned, a calamity\nwhich the fair lady dared not risk again. Witty and brilliant, forever\ngay and unfatigued, she knew that her power over the monarch would\nonly last whilst she could amuse him.\n\nTherefore now with swift transition she turned the conversation to\nmore piquant channels. An anecdote at the expense of the old Duchesse\nde Pontchartrain brought life once more into the eyes of the King. She\nwas once more untiring in her efforts, her cheeks glowed even through\nthe powder and the rouge, her lips smiled without intermission, but\nher thoughts drifted back to the root idea, the burden of that control\nto be imposed on her caprices.\n\nShe would not have minded Milor Eglinton, the courteous, amiable\ngentleman, who had no will save that expressed by any woman who\nhappened to catch his ear. She felt that she could, with but very\nlittle trouble, twist him round her little finger. His dictatorial\nmamma would either have to be got out of the way, or won over to Mme.\nla Marquise's own views of life, whilst Milor could remain a bachelor,\nlest another feminine influence prove antagonistic.\n\nPompadour's bright eyes, whilst she chatted to the King, sought amidst\nthe glittering throng the slim figure of \"le petit Anglais.\"\n\nYes, he would suit her purpose admirably! She could see his handsome\nprofile clearly outlined against the delicate tones of the wall;\nhandsome, yes! clear-cut and firm, with straight nose and the low,\nsquare brow of the Anglo-Saxon race, but obviously weak and yielding;\na perfect tool in the hands of a clever woman.\n\nElegant too, always immaculately, nay daintily dressed, he wore with\nthat somewhat stiff grace peculiar to the English gentleman the showy\nand effeminate costume of the time. But there was weakness expressed\nin his very attitude as he stood now talking to Charles Edward Stuart:\nthe kindly, pleasant expression of his good-looking face in strange\ncontrast to the glowering moodiness of his princely friend.\n\nOne Lord Eglinton had followed the deposed James II into exile. His\nson had risked life and fortune for the restoration of the old\nPretender, and having managed by sheer good luck to save both, he felt\nthat he had done more than enough for a cause which he knew was doomed\nto disaster. But he hated the thought of a German monarch in England,\nand in his turn preferred exile to serving a foreigner for whom he had\nscant sympathy.\n\nImmensely wealthy, a brilliant conversationalist, a perfect gentleman,\nhe soon won the heart of one of the daughters of France. Mlle. de\nMaille brought him, in addition to her own elaborate trousseau and a\ndowry of three thousand francs yearly pin-money, the historic and\ngorgeous chateau of Beaufort which Lord Eglinton's fortune rescued\nfrom the hands of the bailiffs.\n\nVaguely he thought that some day he would return to his own ancestral\nhome in Sussex, when England would have become English once again; in\nthe meanwhile he was content to drift on the placid waters of life,\nhis luxurious craft guided by the domineering hand of his wife.\nIndependent owing to his nationality and his wealth, a friend alike of\nthe King of France and the Stuart Pretender, he neither took up arms\nin any cause, nor sides in any political intrigue.\n\nLady Eglinton brought up her son in affluence and luxury, but detached\nfrom all partisanship. Her strong personality imposed something of her\nown national characteristics on the boy, but she could not break the\nfriendship that existed between the royal Stuarts and her husband's\nfamily. Although Charles Edward was her son's playmate in the gardens\nand castle of Beaufort, she nevertheless succeeded in instilling into\nthe latter a slight measure of disdain for the hazardous attempts at\nsnatching the English crown which invariably resulted in the betrayal\nof friends, the wholesale slaughter of adherents, and the ignominious\nflight of the Pretender.\n\nNo doubt it was this dual nationality in the present Lord Eglinton,\nthis detachment from political conflicts, that was the real cause of\nthat inherent weakness of character which Mme. de Pompadour now wished\nto use for her own ends. She was glad, therefore, to note that whilst\nCharles Edward talked earnestly to him, the eyes of \"le petit Anglais\"\nroamed restlessly about the room, as if seeking for support in an\nargument, or help from a personality stronger than his own.\n\nLady Eglinton's voice, harsh and domineering, often rose above the\ngeneral hum of talk. Just now she had succeeded in engaging the Prime\nMinister in serious conversation.\n\nThe King in the meanwhile had quietly dropped asleep, lulled by the\neven ripple of talk of the beautiful Marquise and the heavily scented\natmosphere of the room. Pompadour rose from her chair as noiselessly\nas her stiff brocaded skirt would allow; she crossed the room and\njoined Lady Eglinton and M. le Duc d'Aumont.\n\nShe was going to take King Louis's advice and add the weighty\ninfluence of her own bright eyes to that of my lady's voluble talk in\nfavour of the appointment of Lord Eglinton to the newly created\nMinistry of Finance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nA WOMAN'S SURRENDER\n\n\nIn a small alcove, which was raised above the level of the rest of the\nfloor by a couple of steps and divided from the main banqueting hall\nby a heavy damask curtain now partially drawn aside, Mlle. d'Aumont\nsat in close conversation with M. le Comte de Stainville.\n\nFrom this secluded spot these two dominated the entire length and\nbreadth of the room; the dazzling scene was displayed before them in a\ngorgeous kaleidoscope of moving figures, in an ever-developing\npanorama of vividly groups, that came and went, divided and\nreunited; now forming soft harmonies of delicate tones that suggested\nthe subtle blending on the palette of a master, anon throwing on to\nthe canvas daring patches of rich magentas or deep purples, that set\noff with cunning artfulness the masses of pale primrose and gold.\n\nGaston de Stainville, however, did not seem impressed with the\npicturesqueness of the scene. He sat with his broad back turned toward\nthe brilliant company, one elbow propped on a small table beside him,\nhis hand shielding his face against the glare of the candles. But\nLydie d'Aumont's searching eyes roamed ceaselessly over the gaily\nplumaged birds that fluttered uninterruptedly before her gaze.\n\nWith one delicate hand holding back the rich damask curtain, the other\nlying idly in her lap, her white brocaded gown standing out in stiff\nfolds round her girlish figure, she was a picture well worth looking\nat.\n\nLydie was scarcely twenty-one then, but already there was a certain\nsomething in the poise of her head, in every movement of her graceful\nbody, that suggested the woman accustomed to dominate, the woman of\nthought and action, rather than of sentiment and tender emotions.\n\nThose of her own sex said at that time that in Lydie's haughty eyes\nthere was the look of the girl who has been deprived early in life of\na mother's gentle influence, and who has never felt the gentle yet\nfirm curb of a mother's authority on her childish whims and caprices.\n\nM. le Duc d'Aumont, who had lost his young wife after five years of an\nexceptionally happy married life, had lavished all the affection of\nhis mature years on the girl, who was the sole representative of his\nname. The child had always been headstrong and self-willed from the\ncradle; her nurses could not cope with her babyish tempers; her\ngovernesses dreaded her domineering ways. M. le Duc was deaf to all\ncomplaints; he would not have the child thwarted, and as she grew up\nlovable in the main, she found her father's subordinates ready enough\nto bend to her yoke.\n\nFrom the age of ten she had been the acknowledged queen of all her\nplaymates, and the autocrat of her father's house. Little by little\nshe obtained an extraordinary ascendancy over the fond parent, who\nadmired almost as much as he loved her.\n\nHe was deeply touched when, scarce out of the school room, she tried\nto help him in the composition of his letters, and more than\nastonished to see how quick was her intelligence and how sharp her\nintuition. Instinctively, at first he took to explaining to her the\nvarious political questions of the day, listening with paternal\ngood-humour, to her acute and sensitive remarks on several important\nquestions.\n\nThen gradually his confidence in her widened. Many chroniclers aver\nthat it was Lydie d'Aumont who wrote her father's celebrated memoirs,\nand those who at that time had the privilege of knowing her intimately\ncould easily trace her influence in most of her father's political\nmoves. There is no doubt that the Duc himself, when he finally became\nPrime Minister of France, did very little without consulting his\ndaughter, and even l'Abbe d'Alivet, in his \"Chroniques de Louis XV,\"\nadmits that the hot partisanship of France for the Young Pretender's\nill-conceived expeditions was mainly due to Mlle. d'Aumont's\ninfluence.\n\nWhen Vanloo painted her a little later on, he rendered with consummate\nand delicate skill the haughty look of command which many of Lydie's\nmost ardent admirers felt to be a blemish on the exquisite purity and\ncharm of her face.\n\nThe artist, too, emphasized the depth and earnestness of her dark\neyes, and that somewhat too severe and self-reliant expression which\nmarked the straight young brow.\n\nPerhaps it was this same masterful trait in the dainty form before him\nthat Gaston de Stainville studied so attentively just now; there had\nbeen silence for some time between the elegant cavalier and the\nidolized daughter of the Prime Minister of France. She seemed restless\nand anxious, even absent-minded, when he spoke. She was studying the\nvarious groups of men and women as they passed, frowning when she\nlooked on some faces, smiling abstractedly when she encountered a pair\nof friendly eyes.\n\n\"I did not know that you were such a partisan of that young\nadventurer,\" said Gaston de Stainville at last, as if in answer to her\nthoughts, noting that her gaze now rested with stern intentness on\nCharles Edward Stuart.\n\n\"I must be on the side of a just cause,\" she rejoined quietly, as with\na very characteristic movement of hers she turned her head slowly\nround and looked M. de Stainville full in the face.\n\nShe could not see him very well, for his head was silhouetted against\nthe dazzling light beyond, and she frowned a little as she tried to\ndistinguish his features more clearly in the shadow.\n\n\"You do believe, Gaston, that his cause is just?\" she asked earnestly.\n\n\"Oh!\" he replied lightly; \"I'll believe in the justice of any cause to\nwhich you give your support.\"\n\nShe shrugged her shoulders, whilst a slightly contemptuous curl\nappeared at the corner of her mouth.\n\n\"How like a man!\" she said impatiently.\n\n\"What is like a man?\" he retorted. \"To love--as I love you?\"\n\nHe had whispered this, hardly above his breath lest he should be\noverheard by some one in that gay and giddy throng who passed\nlaughingly by. The stern expression in her eyes softened a little as\nthey met his eager gaze, but the good-humoured contempt was still\napparent, even in her smile; she saw that as he spoke he looked\nthrough the outspread fingers of his hand to see if he was being\nwatched, and noted that one pair of eyes, distant the whole length of\nthe room, caught the movement, then was instantly averted.\n\n\"Mlle. de Saint Romans is watching you,\" she said quietly.\n\nHe seemed surprised and not a little vexed that she had noticed, and\nfor a moment looked confused; then he said carelessly:\n\n\"Why should she not? Why should not the whole world look on, and see\nthat I adore you?\"\n\n\"Meseems you protest over-much, Gaston,\" she said, with a sigh.\n\n\"Impossible!\"\n\n\"You talk of love too lightly.\"\n\n\"I am in earnest, Lydie. Why should you doubt? Are you not beautiful\nenough to satisfy any man's ardour?\"\n\n\"Am I not influential enough, you mean,\" she said, with a slight\ntremor in her rich young voice, \"to satisfy any man's ambition?\"\n\n\"Is ambition a crime in your eyes, Lydie?\"\n\n\"No; but----\"\n\n\"I am ambitious; you cannot condemn me for that,\" he said, now\nspeaking in more impressive tone. \"When we were playmates together,\nyears ago, you remember? in the gardens at Cluny, if other lads were\nthere, was I not always eager to be first in the race, first in the\nfield--first always, everywhere?\"\n\n\"Even at the cost of sorrow and humiliation to the weaker ones.\"\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders with easy unconcern.\n\n\"There is no success in life for the strong,\" he said, \"save at the\ncost of sorrow and humiliation for the weak. Lydie,\" he added more\nearnestly, \"if I am ambitious it is because my love for you has made\nme humble. I do not feel that as I am, I am worthy of you; I want to\nbe rich, to be influential, to be great. Is that wrong? I want your\npride in me, almost as much as your love.\"\n\n\"You were rich once, Gaston,\" she said, a little coldly. \"Your father\nwas rich.\"\n\n\"Is it my fault if I am poor now?\"\n\n\"They tell me it is; they say that you are over-fond of cards, and of\nother pleasures which are less avowable.\"\n\n\"And you believe them?\"\n\n\"I hardly know,\" she whispered.\n\n\"You have ceased to love me, then?\"\n\n\"Gaston!\"\n\nThere as a tone of tender reproach there, which the young man was\nswift enough to note; the beautiful face before him was in full light;\nhe could see well that a rosy blush had chased away the usual matt\npallor of her cheeks, and that the full red lips trembled a little\nnow, whilst the severe expression of the eyes was veiled in delicate\nmoisture.\n\n\"Your face has betrayed you, Lydie!\" he said, with sudden vehemence,\nthough his voice even now hardly rose above a whisper. \"If you have\nnot forgotten your promises made to me at Cluny--in the shadow of\nthose beech trees, do you remember? You were only thirteen--a mere\nchild--yet already a woman, the soft breath of spring fanned your\nglowing cheeks, your loose hair blew about your face, framing your\nproud little head in a halo of gold--you remember, Lydie?\"\n\n\"I have not forgotten,\" she said gently.\n\n\"Your hand was in mine--a child's hand, Lydie, but yours for all\nthat--and you promised--you remember? And if you have not\nforgotten--if you do love me, not, Heaven help me! as I love you, but\nonly just a little better than any one else in the world; well, then,\nLydie, why these bickerings, why these reproaches? I am poor now, but\nsoon I will be rich! I have no power, but soon I will rule France,\nwith you to help me if you will!\"\n\nHe had grown more and more vehement as he spoke, carried along by the\ntorrent of his own eloquence. But he had not moved; he still sat with\nhis back to the company, and his face shaded by his hand; his voice\nwas still low, impressive in its ardour. Then, as the young girl's\ngraceful head drooped beneath the passionate expression of his gaze,\nbending, as it were, to the intensity of his earnest will, his eyes\nflashed a look of triumph, a premonition of victory close at hand.\nLydie's strong personality was momentarily weakened by the fatigue of\na long and arduous evening, by the heavy atmosphere of the room; her\nsenses were dulled by the penetrating odours of wine and perfumes\nwhich fought with those of cosmetics.\n\nShe seemed to be yielding to the softer emotions, less watchful of her\nown dignity, less jealous of her own power. The young man felt that at\nthis moment he held her just as he wished; did he stretch out his hand\nshe would place hers in it. The recollections of her childhood had\nsmothered all thoughts of present conflicts and of political\nintrigues. Mlle. d'Aumont, the influential daughter of an all-powerful\nMinister, had momentarily disappeared, giving way to madcap little\nLydie, with short skirts and flying chestnut curls, the comrade of the\nhandsome boy in the old gardens at Cluny.\n\n\"Lydie, if you loved me!\" whispered Stainville.\n\n\"If I loved you!\" and there was a world of pathos in that girlish\n\"if.\"\n\n\"You would help me instead of reproaching.\"\n\n\"What do you want me to do, Gaston?\"\n\n\"Your word is law with your father,\" he said persuasively. \"He denies\nyou nothing. You said I was ambitious; one word from you--this new\nMinistry----\"\n\nHe realized his danger, bit his lip lest he had been too precipitate.\nLydie was headstrong, she was also very shrewd; the master-mind that\nguided the destinies of France through the weak indulgence of a father\nwas not likely to be caught in a snare like any love-sick maid. Her\nwoman's instinct--he knew that--was keen to detect self-interest; and\nif he aroused the suspicions of the wealthy and influential woman\nbefore he had wholly subjugated her heart, he knew that he would lose\nthe biggest stake of his life.\n\nLately she had held aloof from him, the playmates had become somewhat\nestranged; the echoes of his reckless life must, he thought, have\nreached her ears, and he himself had not been over-eager for the\ncompanionship of this woman, who seemed to have thrown off all the\nlight-heartedness of her sex for the sake of a life of activity and\ndomination.\n\nShe was known to be cold and unapproachable, rigidly conscientious in\ntransacting the business of the State, which her father with easy\ncarelessness gradually left on her young shoulders, since she seemed\nto find pleasure in it.\n\nBut her influence, of which she was fully conscious, had rendered her\nsuspicious. Even now, when the call of her youth, of her beauty, of\nthe happy and tender recollections of her childhood loudly demanded\nto be heard, she cast a swift, inquiring glance at Gaston.\n\nHe caught the glance, and, with an involuntary movement of impatience,\nhis hand, which up to now had so carefully masked the expression of\nhis face, came crashing down upon the table.\n\n\"Lydie,\" he said impetuously, \"in the name of God throw aside your\narmour for one moment! Is life so long that you can afford to waste\nit? Have you learned the secret of perpetual youth that you\ndeliberately fritter away its golden moments in order to rush after\nthe Dead Sea fruit of domination and power? Lydie!\" he whispered with\npassionate tenderness; \"my little Lydie of the crisp chestnut hair, of\nthe fragrant woods around Cluny, leave those giddy heights of\nambition; come down to earth, where my arms await you! I will tell you\nof things, my little Lydie, which are far more beautiful, far more\ndesirable, than the sceptre and kingdom of France; and when I press\nyou close to my heart you will taste a joy far sweeter than that which\na crown of glory can give. Will you not listen to me, Lydie? Will you\nnot share with me that joy which renders men the equal of God?\"\n\nHis hand had wandered up the damask curtain, gently drawing its heavy\nfolds from out her clinging fingers. The rich brocade fell behind him\nwith a soft and lingering sound like the murmured \"Hush--sh--sh!\" of\nangels' wings shutting out the noise and glare beyond, isolating them\nboth from the world and its conflicts, its passions, and its ceaseless\nstrife.\n\nSecure from prying eyes, Gaston de Stainville threw all reserve from\nhim with a laugh of pride and of joy. Half kneeling, wholly leaning\ntoward her, his arms encircled her young figure, almost pathetic now\nin its sudden and complete abandonment. With his right hand he drew\nthat imperious little head down until his lips had reached her ear.\n\n\"Would you have me otherwise, my beautiful proud queen?\" he whispered\nsoftly. \"Should I be worthy of the cleverest woman in France if my\nambition and hopes were not at least as great as hers? Lydie,\" he\nadded, looking straight into her eyes, \"if you asked me for a kingdom\nin the moon, I swear to God that I would make a start in order to\nconquer it for you! Did you, from sheer caprice, ask to see my life's\nblood ebbing out of my body, I would thrust this dagger without\nhesitation into my heart.\"\n\n\"Hush! hush!\" she said earnestly; \"that is extravagant talk, Gaston.\nDo not desecrate love by such folly.\"\n\n\"'Tis not folly, Lydie. Give me your lips and you, too, will\nunderstand.\"\n\nShe closed her eyes. It was so strange to feel this great gladness in\nher heart, this abasement of all her being; she, who had so loved to\ndictate and to rule, she savoured the inexpressible delight of\nyielding.\n\nHe demanded a kiss and she gave it because he had asked it of her,\nshyly wondering in her own mind how she came to submit so easily, and\nwhy submission should be so sweet.\n\nUp to now she had only tasted the delights of power; now she felt that\nif Gaston willed she would deem it joy to obey. There was infinite\nhappiness, infinite peace in that kiss, the first her vestal lips had\never granted to any man. He was again whispering to her now with that\nsame eager impetuosity which had subjugated her. She was glad to\nlisten, for he talked much of his love, of the beautiful days at\nCluny, which she had feared that he had wholly forgotten.\n\nIt was sweet to think that he remembered them. During the past year or\ntwo when evil tongues spoke of him before her, of his recklessness,\nhis dissipations, his servility to the growing influence of the\nPompadour, she had not altogether believed, but her heart, faithful to\nthe child-lover, had ached and rebelled against his growing neglect.\n\nNow he was whispering explanations--not excuses, for he needed none,\nsince he had always loved her and only jealousies and intrigues had\nkept him from her side. As he protested, she still did not altogether\nbelieve--oh, the folly of it all! the mad, glad folly!--but he said\nthat with a kiss she would understand.\n\nHe was right. She did understand.\n\nAnd he talked much of his ambitions. Was it not natural? Men were so\ndifferent to women! He, proud of his love for her, was longing to show\nher his power, to rule and to command; she, half-shy of her love for\nhim, felt her pride in submitting to his wish, in laying down at his\nfeet the crown and sceptre of domination which she had wielded up to\nnow with so proud and secure a hand.\n\nMen were so different. That, too, she understood with the first touch\nof a man's kiss on her lips.\n\nShe chided herself for her mistrust of him; was it not natural that he\nshould wish to rule? How proud was she now that her last act of\nabsolute power should be the satisfaction of his desire.\n\nThat new Ministry? Well, he should have it as he wished. One word from\nher, and her father would grant it. Her husband must be the most\npowerful man in France; she would make him that, since she could: and\nthen pillow her head on his breast and forget that she ever had other\nambitions save to see him great.\n\nSmiling through her tears, she begged his forgiveness for her mistrust\nof him, her doubts of the true worth of his love.\n\n\"It was because I knew so little,\" she said shyly as her trembling\nfingers toyed nervously with the lace of his cravat; \"no man has ever\nloved me, Gaston--you understand? There were flatterers round me and\nsycophants--but love----\"\n\nShe shook her head with a kind of joyous sadness for the past. It was\nso much better to be totally ignorant of love, and then to learn\nit--like this!\n\nThen she became grave again.\n\n\"My father shall arrange everything this evening,\" she said, with a\nproud toss of her head. \"To-morrow you may command, but to-night you\nshall remain a suppliant; grant me, I pray you, this fond little\ngratification of my overburdened vanity. Ask me again to grant your\nrequest, to be the means of satisfying your ambition. Put it into\nwords, Gaston, tell me what it is you want!\" she insisted, with a\npretty touch of obstinacy; \"it is my whim, and remember I am still the\narbiter of your fate.\"\n\n\"On my knees, my queen,\" he said, curbing his impatience at her\nchildish caprice; and, striving to hide the note of triumph in his\nvoice, he put both knees to the ground and bent his head in\nsupplication. \"I crave of your bountiful graciousness to accord me the\npower to rule France by virtue of my office as Chief Comptroller of\nher revenues.\"\n\n\"Your desire is granted, sir,\" she said with a final assumption of\npride; \"the last favour I shall have the power to bestow I now confer\non you. To-morrow I abdicate,\" she continued, with a strange little\nsigh, half-tearful, half-joyous, \"to-morrow I shall own a master. M.\nle Comte de Stainville, Minister of the Exchequer of France, behold\nyour slave, Lydie, bought this night with the priceless currency of\nyour love! Oh, Gaston, my lord, my husband!\" she said, with a sudden\nuncontrollable outburst of tears, \"be a kind master to your slave--she\ngives up so much for your dear sake!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE FIRST TRICK\n\n\nA shrill laugh suddenly broke on their ears. So absorbed had Lydie\nbeen in her dream that she had completely forgotten the other world,\nthe one that laughed and talked, that fought and bickered on the other\nside of the damask curtain which was the boundary of her own universe.\n\nGaston de Stainville, we may assume, was not quite so unprepared for\ninterruption as the young girl, for even before the shrill laugh had\nexpended itself, he was already on his feet, and had drawn the damask\ncurtain back again, interposing the while his broad figure between\nLydie d'Aumont and the unwelcome intruder on their privacy.\n\n\"Ah! at last you are tracked to earth, _mauvais sujet_,\" said Mme. de\nPompadour, as soon as the Comte de Stainville stood fully revealed\nbefore her. \"Faith! I have had a severe task. His Majesty demanded\nyour presence a while ago, sir, and hath gone to sleep in the interval\nof waiting. Nay! nay! you need make neither haste nor excuses. The\nKing sleeps, Monsieur, else I were not here to remind you of duty.\"\n\nShe stood at the bottom of the steps looking up with keen, malicious\neyes at Gaston's figure framed in the opening of the alcove, and\npeering inquisitively into the sombre recesses, wherein already she\nhad caught a glimpse of a white satin skirt and the scintillation of\nmany diamonds.\n\n\"What say you, milady?\" she added, turning to the florid, somewhat\nover-dressed woman who stood by her side. \"Shall we listen to the\nexcuses M. de Stainville seems anxious to make; meseems they are clad\nin white satin and show a remarkably well-turned ankle.\"\n\nBut before Lady Eglinton could frame a reply, Lydie d'Aumont had\nrisen, and placing her hand on Stainville's shoulder, she thrust him\ngently aside and now stood smiling beside him, perfectly\nself-possessed, a trifle haughty, looking down on Jeanne de\nPompadour's pert face and on the older lady's obviously ill-humoured\ncountenance.\n\n\"Nay, Mme. la Marquise,\" she said, in her own quiet way, \"M. le Comte\nde Stainville's only excuse for his neglect of courtly duties stands\nbefore you now.\"\n\n\"_Ma foi_, Mademoiselle!\" retorted the Marquise somewhat testily. \"His\nMajesty, being over-gallant, would perhaps be ready enough to accept\nit, and so, no doubt, would the guests of M. le Duc, your\nfather--always excepting Mlle, de St. Romans,\" she added, with more\nthan a point of malice, \"and she is not like to prove indulgent.\"\n\nBut Lydie was far too proud, far too conscious also of her own worth,\nto heed the petty pinpricks which the ladies of the Court of Louis XV\nwere wont to deal so lavishly to one another. She knew quite well that\nGaston's name had oft been coupled with that of Mlle. de St.\nRomans--\"_la belle brune de Bordeaux_,\" as she was universally\ncalled--daughter of the gallant Marechal just home from Flanders. This\ngossip was part and parcel of that multifarious scandal to which she\nhad just assured her lover that she no longer would lend an ear.\n\nTherefore she met Mme. de Pompadour's malicious look with one of\ncomplete indifference, and ignoring the remark altogether, she said\ncalmly, without the slightest tremor in her voice or hint of annoyance\nin her face:\n\n\"Did I understand you to say, Madame, that His Majesty was tired and\ndesired to leave?\"\n\nThe Marquise looked vexed, conscious of the snub; she threw a quick\nlook of intelligence to Lady Eglinton, which Lydie no doubt would have\ncaught had she not at that moment turned to her lover in order to give\nhim a smile of assurance and trust.\n\nHe, however, seemed self-absorbed just now, equally intent in avoiding\nher loving glance and Mme. de Pompadour's mocking gaze.\n\n\"The King certainly asked for M. de Stainville a while ago,\" here\ninterposed Lady Eglinton, \"and M. le Chevalier de Saint George has\nbegun to make his adieux.\"\n\n\"We'll not detain Mlle. d'Aumont, then,\" said Mme. de Pompadour. \"She\nwill wish to bid our young Pretender an encouraging farewell! Come, M.\nde Stainville,\" she added authoritatively, \"we'll to His Majesty, but\nonly for two short minutes, then you shall be released man, have no\nfear, in order to make your peace with _la belle brune de Bordeaux_.\nBrrr! I vow I am quite frightened; the minx's black eyes anon shot\ndaggers in this direction.\"\n\nShe beckoned imperiously to Gaston, who still seemed ill at ease, and\nready enough to follow her. Lydie could not help noting with a slight\ntightening of her heartstrings with what alacrity he obeyed.\n\n\"Men are so different!\" she sighed.\n\nShe would have allowed the whole world to look on and to sneer whilst\nshe spent the rest of the evening beside her lover, talking foolish\nnonsense, planning out the future, or sitting in happy silence,\nheedless of sarcasm, mockery, or jests.\n\nHer eyes followed him somewhat wistfully as he descended the two steps\nwith easy grace, and with a flourishing bow and a \"_Mille graces_,\nMlle. Lydie!\" he turned away without another backward look, and became\nmerged with the crowd.\n\nHer master and future lord, the man whose lips had touched her own!\nHow strange!\n\nShe herself could not thus have become one of the throng. Not just\nyet. She could not have detached herself from him so readily. For some\nfew seconds--minutes perhaps--her earnest eyes tried to distinguish\nthe pale mauve of his coat in the midst of that ever-changing\nkaleidoscope of dazzling colours. But the search made her eyes burn,\nand she closed them with the pain.\n\nMen were so different!\n\nAnd though she had learned much, understood much, with that first\nkiss, she was still very ignorant, very inexperienced, and quite at\nsea in those tortuous paths wherein Gaston and Mme. de Pompadour and\nall the others moved with such perfect ease.\n\nIn the meanwhile, M. de Stainville and the Marquise had reached the\ncorridor. From where they now stood they could no longer see the\nalcove whence Lydie's aching eyes still searched for them in vain;\nwith a merry little laugh Madame drew her dainty hand away from her\ncavalier's arm.\n\n\"There! am I not the beneficent fairy, you rogue?\" she said, giving\nhim a playful tap with her fan. \"Fie! Will you drive in double\nharness? You'll come to grief, fair sir, and meseems 'twere not good\nto trifle with either filly.\"\n\n\"Madame, I entreat!\" he protested feebly, wearied of the jest. But he\ntried not to scowl or to seem impatient, for he was loth to lose the\ngood graces of a lady whose power and influence were unequalled even\nby Lydie d'Aumont.\n\nPompadour had favoured him from the very day of her first entry in the\nbrilliant Court of Versailles. His handsome face, his elegant manners,\nand, above all, his reputation as a consummate _mauvais sujet_ had\npleased Mme. la Marquise. Gaston de Stainville was never so occupied\nwith pleasures or amours, but he was ready to pay homage to one more\nbeautiful woman who was willing to smile upon him.\n\nBut though she flirted with Gaston, the wily Marquise had no wish to\nsee him at the head of affairs, the State-appointed controller of her\ncaprices and of the King's munificence. He was pleasant enough as an\nadmirer, unscrupulous and daring; but as a master? No.\n\nThe thought of a marriage between Mlle. d'Aumont and M. de Stainville,\nwith its obvious consequences on her own future plans, was not to be\ntolerated for a moment; and Madame wondered greatly how far matters\nhad gone between these two, prior to her own timely interference.\n\n\"There!\" she said, pointing to an arched doorway close at hand; \"go\nand make your peace whilst I endeavour to divert His Majesty's\nthoughts from your own wicked person; and remember,\" she added\ncoquettishly as she bobbed him a short, mocking curtsey, \"when you\nhave reached the blissful stage of complete reconciliation, that you\nowe your happiness to Jeanne de Pompadour.\"\n\nEtiquette demanded that he should kiss the hand which she now held\nextended toward him; this he did with as good a grace as he could\nmuster. In his heart of hearts he was wishing the interfering lady\nback in the victualler's shop of Paris; he was not at all prepared at\nthis moment to encounter the jealous wrath of \"la Belle _brune de\nBordeaux_.\"\n\nVaguely he thought of flight, but Mme. de Pompadour would not let him\noff quite so easily. With her own jewelled hand she pushed aside the\ncurtain which masked the doorway, and with a nod of her dainty head\nshe hinted to Gaston to walk into the boudoir.\n\nThere was nothing for it but to obey.\n\n\"Mlle. de Saint Romans,\" said the Marquise, peeping into the room in\norder to reassure herself that the lady was there and alone, \"see, I\nbring the truant back to you. Do not be too severe on him; his\nindiscretion has been slight, and he will soon forget all about it, if\nyou will allow him to make full confession and to do penance at your\nfeet.\"\n\nThen she dropped the curtain behind Gaston de Stainville, and, as an\nadditional precaution, lest those two in there should be interrupted\ntoo soon, she closed the heavy folding doors which further divided the\nboudoir from the corridor.\n\n\"Now, if milady plays her cards cleverly,\" she murmured, \"she and I\nwill have done a useful evening's work.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nA FALSE POSITION\n\n\n\"Gaston!\"\n\nM. de Stainville shook off his moodiness. The vision of la belle Irene\nstanding there in the satin-hung boudoir, the soft glow of well-shaded\ncandles shedding an elusive, rosy light on the exquisite figure, with\nhead thrown back and arms stretched out in a gesture of passionate\nappeal, was too captivating to permit of any other thought having sway\nover his brain, for the next second or two at any rate.\n\n\"I thought you had completely forgotten me to-night,\" she said as he\ncame rapidly toward her, \"and that I should not even get speech of\nyou.\"\n\nShe took his hand and led him gently to a low divan; forcing him to\nsit down beside her, she studied his face intently for a moment or\ntwo.\n\n\"Was it necessary?\" she asked abruptly.\n\n\"You know it was, Irene,\" he said, divining her thoughts, plunging\nreadily enough now into the discussion which he knew was inevitable.\nHis whole nature rebelled against this situation; he felt a distinct\nlowering of his manly pride; his masterful spirit chafed at the\nthought of an explanation which Irene claimed the right to demand.\n\n\"I told you, Irene,\" he continued impatiently, \"that I would speak to\nMlle. d'Aumont to-night, and if possible obtain a definite promise\nfrom her.\"\n\n\"And have you obtained that definite promise?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Lydie d'Aumont promised you that you should be the new\nState-appointed Minister of Finance?\" she insisted.\n\n\"Yes! I have her word.\"\n\n\"And--what was the cost?\"\n\n\"The cost?\"\n\n\"Yes, the cost,\" she said, with what was obviously enforced calm.\n\"Lydie d'Aumont did not give you that promise for nothing; you gave\nher or promised her something in return. What was it?\"\n\nHer lips were trembling, and she had some difficulty in preventing her\nnervous fingers from breaking into pieces the delicate mother-of-pearl\nfan which they held. But she was determined to appear perfectly calm,\nand that he should in no way suspect her of working up to a vulgar\nscene of jealousy.\n\n\"You are foolish, Irene!\" he said, with his characteristic nonchalant\nshrug of the shoulders.\n\n\"Foolish?\" she repeated, still keeping her temper well under control,\nthough it was her voice which was shaking now. \"Foolish? Ma foi! when\nmy husband obtains----\"\n\n\"'Sh! 'sh! 'sh!\" he said quickly, as with rough gesture he grasped her\nwrist, and gave it a warning pressure.\n\n\"Bah!\" she retorted; \"no one can hear.\"\n\n\"The walls have ears!\"\n\n\"And if they have? I cannot keep up this deception for ever, Gaston.\"\n\n\"'Twere worse than foolish to founder within sight of port.\"\n\n\"You trust Lydie d'Aumont's word then?\"\n\n\"If you will do nothing to spoil the situation!\" he retorted grimly.\n\"Another word such as you said just now, too long a prolongation of\nthis charming _tete-a-tete_, and Mlle. d'Aumont will make a fresh\npromise to some one else.\"\n\n\"I was right, then?\"\n\n\"Right in what?\"\n\n\"Mlle. d'Aumont promised you the appointment because you made love to\nher.\"\n\n\"Irene!\"\n\n\"Why don't you tell me?\" she said with passionate vehemence. \"Can't\nyou see that I have been torturing myself with jealous fears? I am\njealous--can I help it? I suffered martyrdom when I saw you there with\nher! I could not hear your words, but I could see the earnestness of\nyour attitude. Do I not know every line of your figure, every gesture\nof your hand? Then the curtain fell at your touch, and I could no\nlonger see--only divine--only tremble and fear. Mon Dieu! did I not\nlove you as I do, were my love merely foolish passion, would I not\nthen have screamed out the truth to all that jabbering crowd that\nstood between me and you, seeming to mock me with its prattle, and its\nirresponsible laughter? I am unnerved, Gaston,\" she added, with a\nsudden breakdown of her self-control, her voice trembling with sobs,\nthe tears welling to her eyes, and her hands beating against one\nanother with a movement of petulant nervosity. \"I could bear it, you\nknow, but for this secrecy, this false position; it is humiliating to\nme, and--Oh, be kind to me--be kind to me!\" she sobbed, giving finally\nway to a fit of weeping. \"I have spent such a miserable evening, all\nalone.\"\n\nStainville's expressive lips curled into a smile. \"Be kind to\nme!\"--the same pathetic prayer spoken to him by Lydie a very short\nwhile ago. Bah! how little women understood ambition! Even Lydie! Even\nIrene!\n\nAnd these two women were nothing to him. Lydie herself was only a\nstepping-stone; the statuesque and headstrong girl made no appeal to\nthe essentially masculine side of his nature, and he had little love\nleft now for the beautiful passionate woman beside him, whom in a\nmoment of unreasoning impulse he had bound irrevocably to him.\n\nGaston de Stainville aspired to military honours a couple of years\nago; the Marechal de Saint Romans, friend and mentor of the Dauphin,\nconfidant of the Queen, seemed all-powerful then. Unable to win the\nfather's consent to his union with Irene--for the Marechal had more\nambitious views for his only daughter and looked with ill-favour on\nthe young gallant who had little to offer but his own handsome person,\nan ancient name, and a passionate desire for advancement--Gaston, who\nhad succeeded in enchaining the young girl's affections, had no\ndifficulty in persuading her to agree to a secret marriage.\n\nBut the wheel of fate proved as erratic in its movements as the\nflights of Stainville's ambition. With the appearance of Jeanne\nPoisson d'Etioles at the Court of Versailles, the Queen's gentle\ninfluence over Louis XV waned, and her friends fell into disfavour and\nobscurity. The Marechal de Saint Romans was given an unimportant\ncommand in Flanders; there was nothing to be gained for the moment\nfrom an open alliance with his daughter. Gaston de Stainville, an\navowed opportunist, paid his court to the newly risen star and was\nreceived with smiles, but he could not shake himself from the\nmatrimonial fetters which he himself had forged.\n\nThe rapid rise of the Duc d'Aumont to power and the overwhelming\nascendancy of Lydie in the affairs of State had made the young man\nchafe bitterly against the indestructible barrier which he himself had\nerected between his desires and their fulfilment. His passion for\nIrene did not yield to the early love of his childhood's days; it was\ndrowned in the newly risen flood of more boundless ambition. It was\nmerely the casting aside of one stepping-stone for another more firm\nand more prominent.\n\nJust now in the secluded alcove, when the proud, reserved girl had\nlaid bare before him the secrets of her virginal soul, when with\npathetic abandonment she laid the sceptre of her influence and power\nat his feet, he had felt neither compunction nor remorse; now, when\nthe woman who had trusted and blindly obeyed him asked for his help\nand support in a moral crisis, he was conscious only of a sense of\nirritation and even of contempt, which he tried vainly to disguise.\n\nAt the same time he knew well that it is never wise to tax a woman's\nsubmission too heavily. Irene had yielded to his wish that their\nmarriage be kept a secret for the present only because she, too, was\ntainted with a touch of that unscrupulous ambition which was the chief\ncharacteristic of the epoch. She was shrewd enough to know that her\nhusband would have but little chance in elbowing his way up the ladder\nof power--\"each rung of which was wrapped in a petticoat,\" as M. de\nVoltaire had pertinently put it--if he was known to be dragging a wife\nat his heels; Gaston had had no difficulty in making her understand\nthat his personality as a gay and irresponsible butterfly, as a man\nof fashion, and a squire of dames, was the most important factor in\nthe coming fight for the virtual dominion of France.\n\nShe had accepted the position at first with an easy grace; she knew\nher Gaston, and knew that he must not be handled with too tight a\ncurb; moreover, her secret status pleased her, whilst he remained\navowedly faithful to her she liked to see him court and smile, a\n_preux chevalier_ with the ladies; she relished the thought of being\nthe jailer to that gaily-plumaged bird, whom bright eyes and smiling\nlips tried to entice and enchain.\n\nBut to-night a crisis had come; something in Gaston's attitude toward\nLydie had irritated her beyond what she was prepared to endure. His\nlove for her had begun to wane long ago; she knew that, but she was\nnot inclined to see it bestowed on another. Stainville feared that she\nwas losing self-control, and that she might betray all and lose all if\nhe did not succeed in laying her jealous wrath to rest. He was past\nmaster in the art of dealing with a woman's tears.\n\n\"Irene,\" he said earnestly, \"I have far too much respect for you to\nlook upon this childish outburst of tears as representing the true\nstate of your feelings. You are unnerved--you own it yourself. Will\nyou allow me to hold your hand?\" he said with abrupt transition.\n\nThen as she yielded her trembling hand to him he pressed a lingering\nkiss in the icy cold palm.\n\n\"Will you not accept with this kiss the assurance of my unswerving\nfaith and loyalty?\" he said, speaking in that low, deep-toned voice of\nhis which he knew so well how to make tender and appealing to the\nheart of women. \"Irene, if I have committed an indiscretion to-night,\nif I allowed my ambition to soar beyond the bounds of prudence, will\nyou not believe that with my ambition my thoughts flew up to you and\nonly came down to earth in order to rest at your feet?\"\n\nHe had drawn her close to him, ready to whisper in her ear, as he had\nwhispered half an hour ago in those of Lydie. He wanted this woman's\ntrust and confidence just a very little while longer, and he found\nwords readily enough with which to hoodwink and to cajole. Irene was\nan easier prey than Lydie. She was his wife and her ambitions were\nbound up with his; her mistrust only came from jealousy, and jealousy\nin a woman is so easily conquered momentarily, if she be beautiful and\nyoung and the man ardent and unscrupulous.\n\nGaston as yet had no difficult task; but every day would increase\nthose difficulties, until he had finally grasped the aim of his\nambitious desires and had rid himself of Lydie.\n\n\"Irene!\" he whispered now, for he felt that she was consoled, and\nbeing consoled, she was ready to yield. \"Irene, my wife, a little more\npatience, a little more trust. Two days--a week--what matter? Shut\nyour eyes to all save this one moment to-night, when your husband is\nat your feet and when his soul goes out to yours in one long, and\ntender kiss. Your lips, ma mie!\"\n\nShe bent her head to him. Womanlike, she could not resist. Memory came\nto his aid as he pleaded, the memory of those early days on the\nvine-clad hills near Bordeaux, when he had wooed and won her with the\nsavour of his kiss.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE YOUNG PRETENDER\n\n\nAnd Lydie d'Aumont's eyes had watched his disappearing figure through\nthe crowd, until she could bear the sight no longer, and closed them\nwith the pain.\n\nAn even, pleasant, very courteous voice roused her from her reverie.\n\n\"You are tired, Mlle. d'Aumont. May I--that is, I should be very proud\nif you would allow me to--er----\"\n\nShe opened her eyes and saw the handsome face of \"le petit Anglais\"\nturned up to her with a look of humility, a deprecatory offer of\nservice, and withal a strange mingling of compassion which somehow at\nthis moment, in her sensitive and nervous state, seemed to wound and\nsting her.\n\n\"I'm not the least tired,\" she said coldly; \"I thank you, milor. The\ncolours and the light were so dazzling for the moment, my eyes closed\ninvoluntarily.\"\n\n\"I humbly beg your pardon,\" said Eglinton with nervous haste; \"I\nthought that perhaps a glass of wine----\"\n\n\"Tush child!\" interposed Lady Eglinton in her harsh dry voice; \"have\nyou not heard that Mlle. d'Aumont is not fatigued. Offer her the\nsupport of your arm and take her to see the Chevalier de Saint George,\nwho is waiting to bid her 'good-bye.'\"\n\n\"Nay! I assure you I can walk alone,\" rejoined Lydie, taking no heed\nto the proffered arm which Lord Eglinton, in obedience to his mother's\nsuggestion, was holding out toward her. \"Where is His Majesty the King\nof England?\" emphasizing the title with marked reproof, and looking\nwith somewhat good-natured contempt at the young Englishman who, with\na crestfallen air, had already dropped the arm which she had disdained\nand stepped quickly out of her way, whilst a sudden blush spread over\nhis good-looking face.\n\nHe looked so confused and sheepish, so like a chidden child, that she\nwas instantly seized with remorse, as if she had teased a defenseless\nanimal, and though the touch of contempt was still apparent in her\nattitude, she said more kindly:\n\n\"I pray you forgive me, milor. I am loth to think that perhaps our\ngallant Chevalier will never bear his rightful title in his own\ncountry. I feel that it cheers him to hear us--who are in true\nsympathy with him--calling him by that name. Shall we go find the King\nof England and wish him 'God-speed'?\"\n\nShe beckoned to Lord Eglinton, but he had probably not yet\nsufficiently recovered from the snub administered to him to realize\nthat the encouraging glance was intended for him, and he hung back,\nnot daring to follow, instinctively appealing to his mother for\nguidance as to what he should do.\n\n\"He is modest,\" said Lady Eglinton, with the air of a proud mother\nlauding her young offspring. \"A heart of gold, my dear Mlle.\nd'Aumont!\" she whispered behind her fan, \"under a simple exterior.\"\n\nLydie shrugged her shoulders with impatience. She knew whither Lady\nEglinton's praises of her son would drift presently. The pompous lady\nlooked for all the world like a fussy hen, her stiff brocaded gown and\nvoluminous paniers standing out in stiff folds each side of her portly\nfigure like a pair of wings, and to Lydie d'Aumont's proud spirit it\nseemed more than humiliating for a man, rich, young, apparently in\nperfect health, to allow himself to be domineered over by so vapid a\npersonality as was milady Eglinton.\n\nInstinctively her thoughts flew back to Gaston; very different\nphysically to \"le petit Anglais;\" undoubtedly not so attractive from\nthe point of view of manly grace and bearing, but a man for all that!\nwith a man's weaknesses and failings, and just that spice of devilry\nand uncertainty in him which was pleasing to a woman.\n\n\"So unreliable, my dear Mlle. d'Aumont,\" came in insinuating accents\nfrom Lady Eglinton. \"Look at his lengthy entanglement with Mlle. de\nSaint Romans.\"\n\nLydie gave a start sudden; had she spoken her thoughts out loudly\nwhilst her own mind was buried in happy retrospect? She must have been\ndreaming momentarily certainly, and must have been strangely\nabsent-minded, for she was quite unconscious of having descended the\nalcove steps until she found herself walking between Lord Eglinton and\nhis odious mother, in the direction of the corridors, whilst milady\nwent prattling on with irritating monotony:\n\n\"You would find such support in my son. The Chevalier de Saint\nGeorge--er--I mean the King of England--trusts him absolutely, you\nunderstand--they have been friends since boyhood. Harry would do more\nfor him if he could, but he has not the power. Now as Comptroller of\nFinance--you understand? You have such sympathy with the Stuart\npretensions, Mademoiselle, and a union of sympathies would do much\ntowards furthering the success of so just a cause; and if my son--you\nunderstand----\"\n\nLydie's ears were buzzing with the incessant chatter. Had she not been\nso absorbed in her thoughts she would have laughed at the absurdity of\nthe whole thing. This insignificant nonentity beside her, with the\nstrength and character of a chicken, pushed into a place of influence\nand power by that hen-like mother, and she--Lydie--lending a hand to\nthis installation of a backboneless weakling to the highest position\nof France!\n\nThe situation would have been supremely ridiculous were it not for the\nelement of pathos in it--the pathos of a young life which might have\nbeen so brilliant, so full of activity and interest, now tied to the\napron-strings of an interfering mother.\n\nLydie herself, though accustomed to rule in one of the widest spheres\nthat ever fell to woman's lot, wielded her sceptre with discretion and\ntact. In these days when the King was ruled by Pompadour, when Mme. du\nChatelet swayed the mind of Voltaire, and Marie Therese subjugated the\nHungarians, there was nothing of the blatant petticoat government in\nLydie's influence over her father. The obtrusive domination of a woman\nlike milady was obnoxious and abhorrent to her mind, proud of its\nfeminity, gentle in the consciousness of its strength.\n\nNow she feared that, forgetful of courtly manners, she might say or do\nsomething which would offend the redoubtable lady. There was still the\nwhole length of the banqueting-hall to traverse, also the corridor,\nbefore she could hope to be released from so unwelcome a\ncompanionship.\n\nApparently unconscious of having roused Lydie's disapproval, milady\ncontinued to prattle. Her subject of conversation was still her son,\nand noting that his attention seemed to be wandering, she called to\nhim in her imperious voice:\n\n\"Harry! Harry!\" she said impatiently. \"Am I to to be your spokesman\nfrom first to last? Ah!\" she added, with a sigh, \"men are not what\nthey were when I was wooed and won. What say you, my dear Mlle. Lydie?\nThe age of chivalry, of doughty deeds and bold adventures, is indeed\npast and gone, else a young man of Lord Eglinton's advantages would\nnot depute his own mother to do his courting for him.\"\n\nA shriek of laughter which threatened to be hysterical rose to Lydie's\nthroat. How gladly would she have beaten a precipitate retreat.\nUnfortunately the room was crowded with people, who unconsciously\nimpeded progress. She turned and looked at \"le petit Anglais,\" the\nsorry hero of this prosaic wooing, wondering what was his _role_ in\nthis silly, childish intrigue. She met his gentle eyes fixed upon hers\nwith a look which somehow reminded her of a St. Bernard dog that she\nhad once possessed; there was such a fund of self-deprecation, such\nabject apology in the look, that she felt quite unaccountably sorry\nfor him, and the laughter died before it reached her lips.\n\nSomething prompted her to try and reassure him; the same feeling would\nhave caused her to pat the head of her dog.\n\n\"I feel sure,\" she said kindly, \"that Lord Eglinton will have no need\nof a proxy once he sets his mind on serious wooing.\"\n\n\"But this is serious!\" retorted Lady Eglinton testily. Lydie shook her\nhead:\n\n\"As little serious as his lordship's desire to control the finances of\nFrance.\"\n\n\"Oh! but who better fitted for the post than my son. He is so\nrich--the richest man in France, and in these days of bribery and\ncorruption--you understand, and--and being partly English--not wholly,\nI am thankful to say--for I abominate the English myself; but we must\nown that they are very shrewd where money is concerned--and----\"\n\n\"In the name of Heaven, milady,\" said Lydie irritably, \"will you not\nallow your son to know his own mind? If he has a request to place\nbefore M. le Duc my father or before me, let him do so for himself.\"\n\n\"I think--er--perhaps Mlle. d'Aumont is right,\" here interposed Lord\nEglinton gently. \"You will--er--I hope, excuse my mother,\nMademoiselle; she is so used to my consulting her in everything that\nperhaps---- You see,\" he continued in his nervous halting, way, \"I--I\nam rather stupid and I am very lazy; she thinks I should understand\nfinance, because I--but I don't believe I should; I----\"\n\nHer earnest eyes, fixed with good-humoured indulgence upon his anxious\nface, seemed to upset him altogether. His throat was dry, and his\ntongue felt as if it were several sizes too large for his parched\nmouth. For the moment it looked as if the small modicum of courage\nwhich he possessed would completely give out, but noting that just for\nthe moment his mother was engaged in exchanging hasty greetings with\na friend, he seemed to make a violent and sudden effort, and with the\naudacity which sometimes assails the preternaturally weak, he plunged\nwildly into his subject.\n\n\"I have no desire for positions which I am too stupid to fill,\" he\nsaid, speaking so rapidly that Lydie could hardly follow him; \"but,\nMademoiselle, I entreat you do not believe that my admiration for you\nis not serious. I know I am quite unworthy to be even your lacquey,\nthough I wouldn't mind being that, since it would bring me sometimes\nnear you. Please, please, don't look at me--I am such a clumsy fool,\nand I daresay I am putting things all wrong! My mother says,\" he\nadded, with a pathetic little sigh, \"that I shall spoil everything if\nI open my mouth, and now I have done it, and you are angry, and I wish\nto God somebody would come and give me a kick!\"\n\nHe paused, flushed, panting and excited, having come to the end of his\ncourage, whilst Lydie did not know if she should be angry or sorry. A\nsmile hovered round her lips, yet she would gladly have seen some\nmanlike creature administer chastisement to this foolish weakling. Her\nkeenly analytical mind flew at once to comparisons.\n\nGaston de Stainville--and now this poor specimen of manhood! She had\ntwice been wooed in this self-same room within half an hour; but how\ndifferent had been the methods of courting. A look of indulgence for\nthe weak, a flash of pride for the strong, quickly lit up her\nstatuesque face. It was the strong who had won, though womanlike, she\nfelt a kindly pity for him who did not even dare to ask for that which\nthe other had so boldly claimed as his right--her love.\n\nFortunately, the _tete-a-tete_, which was rapidly becoming\nembarrassing--for she really did not know how to reply to this strange\nand halting profession of love--was at last drawing to a close. At the\nend of the corridor Charles Edward Stuart, surrounded by a group of\nfriends, had caught sight of her, and with gracious courtesy he\nadvanced to meet her.\n\n\"Ah! the gods do indeed favour us,\" he said gallantly in answer to her\nrespectful salute, and nodding casually to Lady Eglinton, who had\nbobbed him a grudging curtsey, \"We feared that our enemy, Time,\ntreading hard on our heels, would force us to depart ere we had\ngreeted our Muse.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty is leaving us?\" she asked. \"So soon?\"\n\n\"Alas! the hour is late. We start to-morrow at daybreak.\"\n\n\"God speed you, Sire!\" she said fervently.\n\n\"To my death,\" he rejoined gloomily.\n\n\"To victory, Sire, and your Majesty's own kingdom!\" she retorted\ncheerily. \"Nay! I, your humble, yet most faithful adherent, refuse to\nbe cast down to-night. See,\" she added, pointing to the group of\ngentlemen who had remained discreetly in the distance, \"you have brave\nhearts to cheer you, brave swords to help you!\"\n\n\"Would I were sure of a brave ship to rescue me and them if I fail!\"\nhe murmured.\n\nShe tossed her head with a characteristic movement of impatience.\n\n\"Nay! I was determined not to speak of failure to-night, Sire.\"\n\n\"Yet must I think of it,\" he rejoined, \"since the lives of my friends\nare dependent on me.\"\n\n\"They give their lives gladly for your cause.\"\n\n\"I would prefer to think that a good ship from France was ready to\ntake them aboard if evil luck force us to flee.\"\n\n\"France has promised you that ship, Monseigneur,\" she said earnestly:\n\n\"If France meant you, Mademoiselle,\" he said firmly, \"I would believe\nin her.\"\n\n\"She almost means Lydie d'Aumont!\" retorted the young girl, with\nconscious pride.\n\n\"Only for a moment,\" broke in Lady Eglinton spitefully; \"but girls\nmarry,\" she added, \"and every husband may not be willing to be held\nunder the sway of satin petticoats.\"\n\n\"If France fails you, Monseigneur,\" here interposed a gentle voice, \"I\nhave already had the honour of assuring you that there is enough\nEglinton money still in the country to fit out a ship for your safety;\nand--er----\"\n\nThen, as if ashamed of this outburst, the second of which he had been\nguilty to-night, \"le petit Anglais\" once more relapsed into silence.\nBut Lydie threw him a look of encouragement.\n\n\"Well spoken, milor!\" she said approvingly.\n\nWith her quick intuition she had already perceived that milady was\ndispleased, and she took a malicious pleasure in dragging Lord\nEglinton further into the conversation. She knew quite well that\nmilady cared naught about the Stuarts or their fate. From the day of\nher marriage she had dissociated herself from the cause, for the\nfurtherance of which her husband's father had given up home and\ncountry.\n\nIt was her influence which had detached the late Lord Eglinton from\nthe fortunes of the two Pretenders; justly, perhaps, since the\nexpeditions were foredoomed to failure, and Protestant England rightly\nor wrongly mistrusted all the Stuarts. But Lydie's romantic instincts\ncould not imagine an Englishman in any other capacity save as the\nchampion of the forlorn cause; one of the principal reasons why she\nhad always disliked the Eglintons was because they held themselves\naloof from the knot of friends who gathered round Charles Edward.\n\nShe was, therefore, not a little surprised to hear \"le petit Anglais\"\npromising at least loyal aid and succour in case of disaster, since he\ncould not give active support to the proposed expedition. That he had\nmade no idle boast when he spoke of Eglinton money she knew quite\nwell, nor was it said in vain arrogance, merely as a statement of\nfact. Milady's vexation proved that it was true.\n\nDelighted and eager, she threw herself with all the ardour of her\nromantic impulses into this new train of thought suggested by Lord\nEglinton's halting speech.\n\n\"Ah, milor,\" she said joyously, and not heeding Lady Eglinton's scowl,\n\"now that I have an ally in you my dream can become a reality. Nay,\nSire, you shall start for England with every hope, every assurance of\nsuccess, but if you fail, you and those you care for shall be safe.\nWill you listen to my plan?\"\n\n\"Willingly.\"\n\n\"Lord Eglinton is your friend--at least, you trust him, do you not?\"\n\n\"I trust absolutely in the loyalty of his house toward mine,\" replied\nCharles Edward unhesitatingly.\n\n\"Then do you agree with him, and with him alone, on a spot in England\nor Scotland where a ship would find you in case of failure.\"\n\n\"That has been done already,\" said Eglinton simply.\n\n\"And if ill-luck pursues us, we will make straight for that spot and\nawait salvation from France.\"\n\nLydie said no more; she was conscious of a distinct feeling of\ndisappointment that her own plan should have been forestalled. She had\nfondled the notion, born but a moment ago, that if her own influence\nwere not sufficiently great in the near future to induce King Louis to\nsend a rescue ship for the Young Pretender if necessary, she could\nthen, with Lord Eglinton's money, fit out a private expedition and\nsnatch the last of the Stuarts from the vengeance of his enemies. The\nromantic idea had appealed to her, and she had been forestalled. She\ntried to read the thoughts of those around her. Lady Eglinton was\nevidently ignorant of the details of the plan; she seemed surprised\nand vastly disapproving. Charles Edward was whispering a few hasty\nwords in the ear of his friend, whom obviously he trusted more than he\ndid the word of France or the enthusiasm of Mlle. d'Aumont.\n\n\"Le petit Anglais\" had relapsed into his usual state of nervousness,\nand his eyes wandered uneasily from Lydie's face to that of his royal\ncompanion, whilst with restless fingers he fidgeted the signet ring\nwhich adorned his left hand. Suddenly he slipped the ring off and\nCharles Edward Stuart examined it very attentively, then returned it\nto its owner with a keen look of intelligence and a nod of approval.\n\nLydie was indeed too late with her romantic plan; these two men had\nthought it all out before her in every detail--even to the ring. She,\ntoo, had thought of a token which would be an assurance to the\nfugitives that they might trust the bearer thereof. She felt quite\nchildishly vexed at all this. It was an unusual thing in France these\ndays to transact serious business without consulting Mlle. d'Aumont.\n\n\"You are taking it for granted, Sire, that France will fail you?\" she\nsaid somewhat testily.\n\n\"Nay! why should you say that?\" he asked.\n\n\"Oh! the ring--the obvious understanding between you and milor.\"\n\n\"Was it not your wish, Mademoiselle?\"\n\n\"Oh! a mere suggestion--in case France failed you, and I were\npowerless to remind her of her promise.\"\n\n\"Pa ma foi,\" he rejoined gallantly, \"and you'll command me, I'll\nbelieve that contingency to be impossible. The whole matter of the\nring is a whim of Eglinton's, and I swear that I'll only trust to\nFrance and to you.\"\n\n\"No, no!\" she said quickly, her own sound common sense coming to the\nrescue just in time to rout the unreasoning petulance of a while ago,\nwhich truly had been unworthy of her. \"It was foolish of me to taunt,\nand I pray your Majesty's forgiveness. It would have been joy and\npride to me to feel that the plans for your Majesty's safety had been\ndevised by me, but I gladly recognize that milor Eglinton hath in this\nmatter the prior claim.\"\n\nHer little speech was delivered so simply and with such a noble air of\nself-effacement that it is small wonder that Charles Edward could but\nstand in speechless admiration before her. She looked such an\nexquisite picture of proud and self-reliant womanhood, as she stood\nthere, tall and erect, the stiff folds of her white satin gown\nsurrounding her like a frame of ivory round a dainty miniature. Tears\nof enthusiasm were in her eyes, her lips were parted with a smile of\nencouragement, her graceful head, thrown slightly back and crowned\nwith the burnished gold of her hair, stood out in perfect relief\nagainst the soft-toned gold and veined marble of the walls.\n\n\"I entreat you, Mademoiselle,\" said the Young Pretender at last, \"do\nnot render my departure too difficult by showing me so plainly all\nthat I relinquish when I quit the fair shores of France.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty leaves many faithful hearts in Versailles, none the less\ntrue because they cannot follow you. Nay! but methinks Lord Eglinton\nand I will have to make a pact of friendship, so that when your\nMajesty hath gone we might often speak of you.\"\n\n\"Speak of me often and to the King,\" rejoined Charles Edward, with a\nquick return to his former mood. \"I have a premonition that I shall\nhave need of his help.\"\n\nThen he bowed before her, and she curtsyed very low until her young\nhead was almost down to the level of his knees. He took her hand and\nkissed it with the respect due to an equal.\n\n\"Farewell, Sire, and God speed you!\" she murmured. He seemed quite\nreluctant to go. Gloom had once more completely settled over his\nspirits, and Lydie d'Aumont, clad all in white like some graceful\nstatue carved in marble, seemed to him the figure of Hope on which a\nrelentless fate forced him to turn his back.\n\nHis friends now approached and surrounded him. Some were leaving\nVersailles and France with him on the morrow, others accompanied him\nin spirit only with good wishes and anxious sighs. Charles Edward\nStuart, the unfortunate descendant of an unfortunate race, turned with\na final appealing look to the man he trusted most.\n\n\"Be not a broken reed to me, Eglinton,\" he said sadly. \"Try and\nprevent France from altogether forgetting me.\"\n\nLydie averted her head in order to hide the tears of pity which had\nrisen to her eyes.\n\n\"Oh, unfortunate Prince! if thine only prop is this poor weakling\nwhose dog-like affection has no moral strength to give it support!\"\n\nWhen she turned once more toward him, ready to bid him a final adieu,\nhe was walking rapidly away from her down the long narrow corridor,\nleaning on Eglinton's arm and closely surrounded by his friends. In\nthe far distance King Louis the Well-beloved strolled leisurely toward\nhis departing guest, leaning lightly on the arm of Mme. la Marquise de\nPompadour.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE LAST TRICK\n\n\nThe noise of talk and laughter still filled the old chateau from end\nto end. Though the special guest of the evening had departed and\nroyalty no longer graced the proceedings, since His Majesty had driven\naway to Versailles after having bidden adieu to the Chevalier de Saint\nGeorge, M. le Duc d'Aumont's less important visitors showed no signs\nas yet of wishing to break up this convivial night.\n\nThe sound of dance music filled the air, and from the _salle d'armes_\nthe merry strains of the gavotte, the tripping of innumerable feet,\nthe incessant buzz of young voices, reached the more distant corridor\nlike an echo from fairyland.\n\nLydie had remained quite a little while leaning against the cool\nmarble wall, watching with eager intentness the group of gallant\nEnglish and Scotch gentlemen congregated round their young Prince.\nLouis the Well-beloved, with that graciousness peculiar to all the\nBourbons, had, severally and individually bidden \"good-bye\" to all.\nEach in turn had kissed the podgy white hand of the King of France,\nwho had been so benignant a host to them all. None understood better\nthan Louis XV, the art of leaving a pleasing impression on the mind of\na departing friend. He had a smile, a jest, a word of encouragement\nfor each whilst Jeanne de Pompadour, with one dainty hand on the\nKing's shoulder, the other flirting her fan, emphasized each token of\nroyal goodwill and of royal favour.\n\n\"Ah! milor Dunkeld, a pleasing journey to you. M. le Marquis de Perth,\nI pray you do not, amidst the fogs of England, forget the sunshine of\nFrance. Sir Andre Seafield, your absence will bring many tears to a\npair of blue eyes I wot of.\"\n\nShe pronounced the foreign names with dainty affectation, and Louis\nhad much ado to keep his eyes away from that bright, smiling face, and\nthose ever-recurring dimples. Lydie felt a strange nausea at sight of\nthese noble, high-born gentlemen paying such reverential homage to the\nlow-born adventuress, and a deep frown appeared between her eyes when\nshe saw Charles Edward Stuart bending as low before Jeanne Poisson as\nhe had done just now before her--Lydie, daughter of the Duc d'Aumont.\n\nBah! what did it matter, after all? This world of irresponsible\nbutterflies, of petty machinations and self-seeking intrigues: would\nshe not quit it to-morrow for a land of poetry and romance, where\nwomen wield no sceptre save that of beauty, and where but one ruler is\nacknowledged and his name is Love?\n\nShe made a strenuous attempt to detach herself mentally from her\nsurroundings; with a great effort of her will she succeeded in losing\nsight of the individuality of all these people round her. Lady\nEglinton still talking at random beside her, Mme. de Pompadour\nyielding her hand to the kiss of a Stuart Prince, that fat and pompous\nman, whom duty bade her call \"Your Majesty,\" all became mere\npuppets--dolls that laughed and chatted and danced, hanging on\ninvisible strings, which the mighty hand of some grim giant was\ndangling for the amusement of his kind.\n\nHow paltry it seemed all at once! What did it matter if France was\nruled by that vapid King or by that brainless, overdressed woman\nbeside him? What did it matter if that young man with the shifty blue\neyes and the fair, curly hair succeeded in ousting another man from\nthe English throne?\n\nWhat did matter was that Gaston was not faithless, that he loved her,\nand that she had felt the sweetness of a first kiss!\n\nHappily back in dreamland now, she could once more afford to play her\npart amongst the marionettes. She was willing to yield the string\nwhich made her dance and talk and move into the hands of the fiercely\nhumorous giant up aloft. No doubt it was he who pulled her along the\ncorridor, made her join the group that congregated round departing\nroyalty.\n\nM. le Duc d'Aumont--the perfect courtier and gentleman--was already\nformulating his adieux. His Majesty the King of France would, by the\nrigid rule of etiquette, be the first to leave. Accompanied by Mme. de\nPompadour and followed by M. le Duc, he was commencing his progress\ndown the monumental staircase which led to the great entrance hall\nbelow.\n\nLydie, still made to move no doubt by that invisible giant hand, found\nit quite simple and easy to mingle with the crowd, to take the King's\narm, being his hostess, whilst M. le Duc her father and Mme. de\nPompadour followed close behind.\n\nWith her spirit wandering in dreamland, she was naturally somewhat\ndistraite--not too much so, only sufficiently to cause Louis XV to\nmake comparisons betwixt his sprightly Jeanne and this animated\nstatue, whose cold little hand rested so impassively on the satin of\nhis coat.\n\nAt the foot of the perron the King's Flemish horses, as round of body\nand heavy of gait as himself, were impatiently pawing the ground. The\nopening of the great gates sent a wave of sweet-scented air into the\noverheated chateau. Lydie was glad that her duty demanded that she\nshould accompany the King down the steps to the door of his coach. The\ncool night breeze fanned her cheeks most pleasingly, the scent of June\nroses and of clove carnations filled the air, and from below the\nterraced gardens there came the softly-murmuring ripple of the Seine,\nwinding her graceful curves toward the mighty city of Paris beyond.\n\nFar away to the east, beyond the grim outline of cedar and poplar\ntrees, a fair crescent moon appeared, chaste and cold.\n\n\"An emblem of our fair hostess to-night,\" said Louis with clumsy\ngallantry and pointing up to the sky, as Lydie bent her tall figure\nand kissed the royal hand.\n\nThen she stood aside, having made a cold bow to Mme. de Pompadour; the\nfair Marquise was accompanying His Majesty to Versailles; she stepped\ninto the coach beside him, surrounded by murmurs of flattery and\nadulation. Even Charles Edward made her a final speech of somewhat\nforced gallantry; he was the last to kiss her hand, and Lydie could\nalmost hear the softly whispered words of entreaty with which he bade\nher not to forget.\n\nAnd Jeanne Poisson--daughter of a kitchen wench--was condescendingly\ngracious to a Stuart Prince; then she calmly waved him aside, whilst\nthe King apparently was content to wait, and called Lady Eglinton to\nthe door of the coach.\n\n\"You are wasting too much time,\" she whispered quickly; \"an you don't\nhurry now, you will be too late.\"\n\nAt last the departure was effected; the crowd, with backbone bent and\ntricornes sweeping the ground, waited in that uncomfortable position\nuntil the gilded coach and the men in gorgeous blue and gold liveries\nwere swallowed in the gloom of the chestnut avenue; then it broke up\ninto isolated groups. Lydie had done her duty as hostess; she had\ntaken such leave as etiquette demanded from Charles Edward Stuart and\nhis friends. Coaches and chairs came up to the perron in quick\nsuccession now, bearing the adventurers away on this, the first stage\nof their hazardous expedition. When would they sup again in such\nluxury? when would the frou-frou of silk, the flutter of fans, the\nsound of dance music once more pleasantly tickle their ears?\nTo-morrow, and for many a long day to come it would be hurried meals\nin out-of-the-way places, the call to horse, the clink of arms.\n\nPuppets! puppets all! for what did it matter?\n\nLydie would have loved to have lingered out on the terrace awhile\nlonger. The oak-leaved geraniums down at the foot of the terrace steps\nthrew an intoxicating lemon-scented fragrance in the air, the row of\nstunted orange trees still bore a few tardy blossoms, and in the copse\nyonder, away from the din and the bustle made by the marionettes, it\nmust be delicious to wander on the carpet of moss and perchance to\nhear the melancholy note of a nightingale.\n\n\"Do you think not, Mademoiselle, that this night air is treacherous?\"\nsaid Lord Eglinton, with his accustomed diffidence. \"You seem to be\nshivering; will you allow me the honour of bringing your cloak?\"\n\nShe thanked him quite kindly. Somehow his gentle voice did not jar on\nher mood. Since Gaston was not there, she felt that she would sooner\nhave this unobtrusive, pleasant man beside her than any one else. He\nseemed to have something womanish and tender in his feeble nature\nwhich his mother lacked. Perhaps milady had divested herself of her\nnatural attributes in order to grace her son with them, since she had\nbeen unable to instil more manly qualities into him.\n\nBut Lydie's heart ached for a sight of Gaston. The clock in the tower\nof the old chateau chimed the hour before midnight. It was but half an\nhour since she had parted from him on the steps of the alcove; she\nremembered quite distinctly hearing the bracket clock close by strike\nhalf-past ten, at the same moment as Pompadour's shrill laugh broke\nupon her ear.\n\nHalf an hour? Why, it seemed a lifetime since then; and while she had\nmade her bow to the Stuart Prince and then to King Louis, while she\nhad allowed the unseen giant to move her from place to place on a\nstring, perhaps Gaston had been seeking for her, perhaps his heart had\nlonged for her too, and a sting of jealousy of her multifarious social\nduties was even now marring the glory of happy memories.\n\nWithout another moment's hesitation she turned her back on the\npeaceful gloom of the night, on the silver crescent moon, the\nfragrance of carnations and orange-blossoms, and walked quickly up the\nperron steps with a hasty: \"You are right, milor, the night air is\nsomewhat chilling and my guests will be awaiting me,\" thrown over her\nshoulder at her bashful cavalier.\n\nBeyond the noble entrance doors the vast hall was now practically\ndeserted, save for a group of flunkeys, gorgeous and solemn, who stood\nawaiting the departure of their respective masters. At the farther end\nwhich led to the main corridor, Lydie, to her chagrin, caught sight of\nLady Eglinton's brobdingnagian back.\n\n\"What an obsession!\" she sighed, and hoped that milady would fail to\nnotice her. Already she was planning hasty flight along a narrow\npassage, when a question authoritatively put by her ladyship to a\nmagnificent person clad in a purple livery with broad white facings\narrested her attention.\n\n\"Is your master still in the boudoir, do you know?\"\n\n\"I do not know, Mme. la Marquise,\" the man replied. \"I have not seen\nM. le Comte since half an hour.\"\n\nThe purple livery with broad white facings was that of the Comte de\nStainville.\n\n\"I have a message for M. le Comte from Mme. de Pompadour,\" said Lady\nEglinton carelessly. \"I'll find him, I daresay.\"\n\nAnd she turned into the great corridor.\n\nLydie no longer thought of flight; an unexplainable impulse caught her\nto change her mind, and to follow in Lady Eglinton's wake. She could\nnot then have said if \"le petit Anglais\" was still near her not. She\nhad for the moment forgotten his insignificant existence.\n\nThere was an extraordinary feeling of unreality about herself and her\nmovements, about the voluminous person ahead clad in large-flowered\nazure brocade and closely followed by a stiff automaton in purple and\nwhite; they seemed to be leading her along some strange and unexpected\npaths, at the end of which Lydie somehow felt sure that grinning apes\nwould be awaiting her.\n\nAnon Lady Eglinton paused, with her hand on the handle of a door; she\ncaught sight of Mlle. d'Aumont and seemed much surprised to see her\nthere. She called to her by name, in that harsh voice which Lydie\ndetested, whilst the obsequious automaton came forward and relieved\nher from the trouble of turning that handle herself.\n\n\"Allow me, milady.\"\n\nThe door flew open, the flunkey at the same moment also drew a heavy\ncurtain aside.\n\nLydie had just come up quite close, in answer to Lady Eglinton's call.\nShe was standing facing the door when Benedict threw it open,\nannouncing with mechanical correctness of attitude:\n\n\"Mme. la Marquise d'Eglinton, M. le Comte!\"\n\nAt first Lydie only saw Gaston as he turned to face the intruders. His\nface was flushed, and he muttered a quickly-suppressed oath. But\nalready she had guessed, even before Lady Eglinton's strident voice\nhad set her every nerve a-tingling.\n\n\"Mlle. de Saint Romans!\" said milady, with a shrill laugh, \"a thousand\npardons! I had a message from Mme. de Pompadour for M. le Comte de\nStainville, and thought to find him alone. A thousand pardons, I\nbeg--the intrusion was involuntary--and the message unimportant--I'll\ndeliver it when Monsieur is less pleasantly engaged.\"\n\nLydie at that moment could not have stirred one limb, if her very\nlife had depended on a movement from her. The feeling of unreality had\ngone. It was no longer that. It was a grim, hideous, awful reality.\nThat beautiful woman there was reality, and real, too, were the\nglowing eyes that flashed defiance at milady, the lips parted for that\nlast kiss which the flunkey's voice had interrupted, the stray black\ncurls which had escaped from the trammels of the elaborate coiffure\nand lay matted on the damp forehead.\n\nAnd those roses, too, which had adorned her corsage, now lying broken\nand trampled on the floor, the candles burning dimly in their sockets,\nand Gaston's look of wrath, quickly followed by one of fear--all--all\nthat was real!\n\nReal to the awful shame of it all--milady's sneer of triumph, the oath\nwhich had risen to Gaston's lips, the wooden figure of the lacquey\nstanding impassive at the door!\n\nInstinctively Lydie's hand flew to her lips; oh, that she could have\nwiped out the last, lingering memory of that kiss. She, the proud and\nreserved vestal, a Diana chaste and cold, with lips now for ever\npolluted by contact with those of a liar. A liar, a traitor, a\nsycophant! She lashed her haughty spirit into fury, the better to feel\nthe utter degradation of her own abasement.\n\nShe did not speak. What could she say! One look at Gaston's face and\nshe understood that her humiliation was complete; his eyes did not\neven seek her pardon, they expressed neither sorrow nor shame, only\nimpotent wrath and fear of baffled ambition. Not before all these\npeople would she betray herself, before that beautiful rival, or that\nvulgar _intrigante_, not before Gaston or his lacquey, and beyond that\nmechanical movement of hand to lips, beyond one short flash of\nunutterable pride and contempt, she remained silent and rigid, whilst\nher quick eyes took in a complete mental vision of that never\nto-be-forgotten picture--the dimly-lighted boudoir, the defiant figure\nof Irene de Saint Romans, the crushed roses on the floor.\n\nThen with a heart-broken sigh unheard by the other actors in this\nmoving tableaux, and covering her face with her hands, she began to\nwalk rapidly down the corridor.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE WINNING HAND\n\n\nBut Lydie d'Aumont had not gone five paces before she heard a quick,\nsharp call, followed by the rustle of silk on the marble floor.\n\nThe next moment she felt a firm, hot grip on her wrist, and her left\nhand was forcibly drawn away from her face, whilst an eager voice\nspoke quick, vehement words, the purport of which failed at first to\nreach her brain.\n\n\"You shall not go, Mlle. d'Aumont,\" were the first coherent words\nwhich she seemed to understand--\"you cannot--it is not just, not fair\nuntil you have heard!\"\n\n\"There is nothing which I need hear,\" interrupted Lydie coldly, the\nmoment she realized that it was Irene de Saint Romans who was\naddressing her; \"and I pray you to let me go.\"\n\n\"Nay! but you shall hear, you must!\" rejoined the other without\nreleasing her grasp on the young girl's wrist. Her hand was hot, and\nher fingers had the strength of intense excitement. Lydie could not\nfree herself, strive how she might.\n\n\"Do you not see that this is most unfair?\" continued Irene with great\nvolubility. \"Am I to be snubbed like some kitchen wench caught kissing\nbehind doorways? Look at milady Eglinton and her ill-natured sneer.\nI'll not tolerate it, nor your looks of proud contempt! I'll\nnot--I'll not! Gaston! Gaston!\" she now exclaimed, turning to de\nStainville, who was standing, silent and sullen, whilst he saw his\nwife gradually lashing herself into wrathful agitation at his own\nindifference and Lydie's cold disdain. \"If you have a spark of courage\nleft in you, tell that malicious _intrigante_ and this scornful minx\nthat if I were to spend the whole evening in the boudoir _en\ntete-a-tete_ with you, aye! and behind closed doors if I chose who\nshall have a word to say, when I am in the company of my own husband?\"\n\n\"Your husband!\"\n\nThe ejaculation came from Lady Eglinton's astonished lips. Lydie had\nnot stirred. She did not seem to have heard, and certainly Irene's\ntriumphant announcement left her as cold, as impassive as before. What\ndid it matter, after all, what special form Gaston's lies to her had\nassumed? Nothing that he or Irene said or did could add to his\nbaseness and infamy.\n\n\"Aye, my husband, milady!\" continued the other more calmly, as she\nfinally released Lydie's wrist and cast it, laughing, from her. \"I am\ncalled Mme. la Comtesse de Stainville, and will be called so in the\nfuture openly. Now you may rejoin your guests, Mlle. d'Aumont; my\nreputation stands as far beyond reproach as did your own before you\nspent a mysterious half hour with my husband behind the curtains of an\nalcove.\"\n\nShe turned to de Stainville, who, in spite of his wife's provocative\nattitude, had remained silent, cursing the evil fate which had played\nhim this trick, cursing the three women who were both the cause and\nthe witnesses of his discomfiture.\n\n\"Your arm, Gaston!\" she said peremptorily; \"and you, Benedict, call\nyour master's coach and my chair. Mlle. d'Aumont, your servant. If I\nhave been the means of dissipating a happy illusion, you may curse me\nnow, but you will bless me to-morrow. Gaston has been false to you--he\nis not over true to me--but he is my husband, and as such I must claim\nhim. For the sake of his schemes, of his ambitions, I kept our\nmarriage a secret so that he might rise to higher places than I had\nthe power to give him. When your disdainful looks classed me with a\nflirty kitchen-wench I rebelled at last. I trust that you are proud\nenough not to vent your disappointment on Gaston; but if you do, 'tis\nno matter; I'll find means of consoling him.\"\n\nShe made the young girl a low and sweeping curtesy in the most\napproved style demanded by the elabourate etiquette of the time. There\nwas a gleam of mocking triumph in her eyes, which she did not attempt\nto conceal, and which suddenly stung Lydie's pride to the quick.\n\nIt is strange indeed that often at a moment when a woman's whole\nhappiness is destroyed with one blow, when a gigantic cataclysm\nrevolutionises with one fell swoop her entire mode of thought, dispels\nall her dreams and shatters her illusions, it is always the tiny final\npin-prick which causes her the most acute pain and influences the\nwhole of her subsequent conduct.\n\nIt was Irene's mocking curtsey which roused Lydie from her mental\ntorpor, because it brought her--as it were--in actual physical contact\nwith all that she would have to endure openly in the future, as apart\nfrom the hidden misery of her heart.\n\nGaston's shamed face was no longer the only image which seared her\neyes and brain. The world, her own social world, seemed all at once to\nreawaken before her. That world would sneer even as Irene de\nStainville sneered; it would laugh at and enjoy her own discomfiture.\nShe--Lydie d'Aumont--the proud and influential daughter of the Prime\nMinister of France, whom flatterers and sycophants approached mentally\non bended knees, for whom suitors hardly dared even to sigh, she had\nbeen tricked and fooled like any silly country mouse whose vanity had\nled to her own abasement.\n\nHalf an hour ago in the fullness of her newly-found happiness she had\nflaunted her pride and her love before those who hated and envied her.\nTo-morrow--nay, within an hour--this humiliating scene would be the\ntalk of Paris and Versailles. Lydie's burning ears seemed even now to\nhear the Pompadour retailing it with many embellishments, which would\nbring a coarse laugh to the lips of the King and an ill-natured jest\nto those of her admirers; she could hear the jabbering crowd, could\nfeel the looks of compassion or sarcasm aimed at her as soon at this\ntit-bit of society scandal had been bruited abroad.\n\nThe scene itself had become real and vivid to her; the marble\ncorridor, the flickering candles, the flunkey's impassive face; she\nunderstood that the beautiful woman before her was in fact and deed\nthe wife of Gaston de Stainville. She even contrived to perceive the\nhumour of Lady Eglinton's completely bewildered expression, the blank\nastonishment of her round, bulgy eyes, and close to her she saw \"le\npetit Anglais,\" self-effaced as usual, and looking almost as guilty,\nas shamefaced as Gaston.\n\nLydie turned to him and placed a cool, steady hand upon his sleeve.\n\n\"Madame la Comtesse de Stainville,\" she then said with perfect calm,\n\"I fear me I must beg of your courtesy to tarry awhile longer, whilst\nI offer you an explanation to which I feel you are entitled. Just now\nI was somewhat surprised because your news was sudden--and it is my\nturn to ask your pardon, although my fault--if fault there be--rests\non a misapprehension. M. le Comte de Stainville's amours or his\nmarriage are no concern of mine. True, he begged for my influence and\nfawned upon my favour just now, for his ambition soared to the post of\nHigh Controller of the Finances of France. That appointment rests with\nthe Duc, my father, who no doubt will bestow it on him whom he thinks\nmost worthy. But it were not fair to me, if you left me now thinking\nthat the announcement of your union with a gentleman whose father was\nthe friend of mine could give me aught but pleasure. Permit me to\ncongratulate you, Madame, on the choice of a lord and master, a\nhelpmeet no doubt. You are indeed well matched. I am all the more\neager to offer you my good wishes as I have been honoured to-night\nwith a proposal which has greatly flattered me. My lord the Marquis of\nEglinton has asked me to be his wife!\"\n\nOnce more she turned her head toward the young Englishman and\nchallenged a straight look from his eyes. He did not waver and she was\nsatisfied. Her instinct had not misled her, for he expressed no\nastonishment, only a sort of dog-like gratitude and joy as, having\nreturned her gaze quite firmly, he now slowly raised his arm bringing\nher hand on a level with his lips.\n\nLady Eglinton also displayed sufficient presence of mind not to show\nany surprise. She perhaps alone of all those present fully realized\nthat Lydie had been wounded to the innermost depths of her heart, and\nthat she herself owed her own and her son's present triumph to the\nrevolt of mortified pride.\n\nWhat Gaston thought and felt exactly it were difficult to say. He held\nwomen in such slight esteem, and his own vanity was receiving so\nsevere a blow, that, no doubt, he preferred to think that Lydie, like\nhimself, had no power of affection and merely bestowed her heart there\nwhere self-interest called.\n\nIrene, on the other hand, heaved a sigh of relief; the jealous\nsuspicions which had embittered the last few days were at last\ndispelled. Hers was a simple, shallow nature that did not care to look\nbeyond the obvious. She certainly appeared quite pleased at Lydie's\nannouncement, and if remorse at her precipitancy did for one brief\nsecond mar the fullness of her joy, she quickly cast it from her, not\nhaving yet had time to understand the future and more serious\nconsequences of her impulsive avowal.\n\nShe wanted to go up to Lydie and to offer her vapid expressions of\ngoodwill, but Gaston, heartily tired of the prolongation of this\nscene, dragged her somewhat roughly away.\n\nFrom the far distance there came the cry of the flunkeys.\n\n\"The chair of Mlle. de Saint Romans!\"\n\n\"The coach of M. le Comte de Stainville!\"\n\nM. Benedict, resplendent in purple and white, reappeared at the end of\nthe corridor, with Irene's hood and cloak. Gaston, with his wife on\nhis arm, turned on his heel and quickly walked down the corridor.\n\nMilady, puzzled, bewildered, boundlessly overjoyed yet fearing to\ntrust her luck too far, had just a sufficient modicum of tact left in\nher to retire discreetly within the boudoir.\n\nLydie suddenly found herself alone in this wide corridor with the man\nwhom she had so impulsively dragged into her life. She looked round\nher somewhat helplessly, and her eyes encountered those of her future\nlord fixed upon hers with that same air of dog-like gentleness which\nshe knew so well and which always irritated her.\n\n\"Milor,\" she said very coldly, \"I must thank you for your kind\ncooperation just now. That you expressed neither surprise nor\nresentment does infinite credit to your chivalry.\"\n\n\"If I was a little surprised, Mademoiselle,\" he said, haltingly, \"I\nwas too overjoyed to show it, and--and I certainly felt no\nresentment.\"\n\nHe came a step nearer to her. But for this she was not prepared, and\ndrew back with a quick movement and a sudden stiffening of her figure.\n\n\"I hope you quite understood milor, that there is no desire on my part\nto hold you to this bond,\" she said icily. \"I am infinitely grateful\nto you for the kind way in which you humoured my impulse to-night, and\nif you will have patience with me but a very little while, I promise\nyou that I will find an opportunity for breaking, without too great a\nloss of dignity, these bonds which already must be very irksome to\nyou.\"\n\n\"Nay, Mademoiselle,\" he said gently, \"you are under a misapprehension.\nBelieve me, you would find it well-nigh impossible to--to--er--to\nalter your plans now without loss of dignity, and--er--er--I assure\nyou that the bonds are not irksome to me.\"\n\n\"You would hold me to this bargain, then?\"\n\n\"For your sake, Mademoiselle, as well as mine, we must now both be\nheld to it.\"\n\n\"It seems unfair on you, milor.\"\n\n\"On me, Mademoiselle?\"\n\n\"Yes, on you,\" she repeated, with a thought more gentleness in her\nvoice; \"you are young, milor; you are rich--soon you will regret the\nsense of honour which ties you to a woman who has only yielded her\nhand to you out of pique! Nay, I'll not deceive you,\" she added\nquickly, noting the sudden quiver of the kind little face at her\nstinging words. \"I have no love for you, milor--all that was young and\nfresh, womanly and tender in my heart was buried just here to-night.\"\n\nAnd with a mournful look she glanced round at the cold marble of the\nwalls, the open door to that boudoir beyond, the gilded sconces which\nsupported the dimly-burning candles. Then, smitten with sudden\nremorse, she said eagerly, with one of those girlish impulses which\nrendered her domineering nature so peculiarly attractive:\n\n\"But if I can give you no love, milor, Heaven and my father's\nindulgence have given me something which I know men hold far greater\nof importance than a woman's heart. I have influence, boundless\ninfluence, as you know--the State appointed Controller of Finance will\nbe the virtual ruler of France, his position will give him power\nbeyond the dreams of any man's ambition. My father will gladly give\nthe post to my husband and--\"\n\nBut here a somewhat trembling hand was held deprecatingly toward her.\n\n\"Mademoiselle, I entreat you,\" said Lord Eglinton softly, \"for the\nsake of your own dignity and--and mine, do not allow your mind to\ndwell on such matters. Believe me, I am fully conscious of the honour\nwhich you did me just now in deigning to place your trust in me. That\nI have--have loved you, Mlle. Lydie,\" he added, with a nervous quiver\nin his young voice, \"ever since I first saw you at this Court I--I\ncannot deny; but\"--and here he spoke more firmly, seeing that once\nagain she seemed to draw away from him, to stiffen at his approach,\n\"but that simple and natural fact need not trouble you. I could not\nhelp loving you, for you are more beautiful than anything on earth,\nand you cannot deem my adoration an offence, though you are as cold\nand pure as the goddess of chastity herself. I have seen Catholics\nkneeling at the shrine of the Virgin Mary; their eyes were fixed up to\nher radiant image, their lips murmured an invocation or sometimes a\nhymn of praise. But their hands were clasped together; they never even\nraised them once toward that shrine which they had built for her, and\nfrom which she smiled whilst listening coldly to their prayers. Mlle.\nd'Aumont, you need have no mistrust of my deep respect for you; you\nare the Madonna and I the humblest of your worshippers. I am proud to\nthink that the name I bear will be the shrine wherein your pride will\nremain enthroned. If you have need of me in the future you must\ncommand me, but though the law of France will call me your husband and\nyour lord, I will be your bondsman and serve you on my knees; and\nthough my very soul aches for the mere touch of your hand, my lips\nwill never pollute even the hem of your gown.\" His trembling voice had\nsunk down to a whisper. If she heard or not he could not say. From far\naway there came to his ears the tender melancholy drone of the\ninstruments playing the slow movement of the gavotte. His Madonna had\nnot stirred, only her hand which he so longed to touch trembled a\nlittle as she toyed with her fan.\n\nAnd, like the worshippers at the Virgin's shrine, he bent his knee and\nknelt at her feet.\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHE STATESMAN\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE BEGGAR ON HORSEBACK\n\n\nMonsieur le Marquis d'Eglinton, Comptroller-General of Finance,\nChevalier of the Order of St. Louis, Peer of England and of France,\noccupied the west wing of the Chateau of Versailles. His Majesty the\nKing had frequent and urgent need of him; Mme. de Pompadour could\nscarce exist a day without an interview behind closed doors with the\nmost powerful man in France: with him, who at the bidding of the\nnation, was set up as a bar to the extravagances of her own caprice.\n\nAnd _le petit lever_ of M. le Controleur was certainly more largely\nattended than that of M. le Duc d'Aumont, or even--softly be it\nwhispered--than that of His Majesty himself. For although every one\nknew that M. le Marquis was but a figurehead, and that all graces and\nfavours emanated direct from the hand of Mme. la Marquise Lydie, yet\nevery one waited upon his good pleasure, for very much the same reason\nthat those who expected or hoped something from the King invariably\nkissed the hand of Mme. de Pompadour.\n\nM. le Controleur very much enjoyed these _petits levers_ of his, which\nwere considered the most important social events in Versailles. He was\nvery fond of chocolate in the morning, and M. Achille--that prince of\nvalets--brought it to his bedside with such inimitable grace and\nwithal the beverage itself so aromatic and so hot, that this hour\nbetween ten and eleven each day had become extremely pleasant.\n\nHe had no idea that being Comptroller-General of Finance was quite so\neasy and agreeable an occupation, else he had not been so diffident in\naccepting the post. But in reality it was very simple. He governed\nFrance from the depths of his extremely comfortable bed, draped all\nround with rich satin hangings of a soft azure colour, embroidered\nwith _motifs_ of dull gold, which were vastly pleasing to the eye.\nHere he was conscious of naught save fine linen of a remarkably silken\ntexture, of a lace coverlet priceless in value, of the scent of his\nsteaming chocolate, and incidentally of a good many pleasant faces,\nand some unamiable ones, and of a subdued hive-like buzz of talk,\nwhich went on at the further end of the room, whilst M. Achille\nadministered to his comforts and Mme. de Pompadour or Mme. la Comtesse\nde Stainville told him piquant anecdotes.\n\nYes, it was all very pleasant, and not at all difficult. A wave of the\nhand in the direction of Mme. la Marquise, his wife, who usually sat\nin a window embrasure overlooking the park, was all that was needed\nwhen petitioners were irksome or subjects too abstruse.\n\nLydie was so clever with all that sort of thing. She had the mind of a\npolitician and the astuteness of an attorney, and she liked to govern\nFrance in an energetic way of her own which left milor free of all\nresponsibility if anything happened to go wrong.\n\nBut then nothing ever did go wrong. France went on just the same as\nshe had done before some of her more meddlesome Parliaments insisted\non having a Comptroller of Finance at the head of affairs. Mme. de\nPompadour still spent a great deal of money, and the King still\ninvariably paid her debts; whereupon, his pockets being empty, he\napplied to M. le Controleur for something with which to replenish\nthem. M. le Controleur thereupon ordered M. Achille to bring one more\ncup of aromatic chocolate for Mme. de Pompadour, whilst His Majesty\nthe King spent an uncomfortable quarter of an hour with Mme. la\nMarquise d'Eglinton.\n\nThe usual result of this quarter of an hour was that His Majesty was\nexcessively wrathful against Mme. Lydie for quite a fortnight; but no\none could be angry with \"le petit Anglais,\" for he was so very amiable\nand dispensed such exceedingly good chocolate.\n\nPar ma foi! it is remarkably easy to govern a country if one happen to\nhave a wife--that, at least, had been milor's experience--a wife and a\nperfect valet-de-chambre.\n\nM. Achille, since his Marquis's elevation to the most important\nposition in France, had quite surpassed himself in his demeanour. He\nstood on guard beside the azure and gold hangings of his master's bed\nlike a veritable gorgon, turning the most importunate petitioners to\nstone at sight of his severe and repressive visage.\n\nOh! Achille was an invaluable asset in the governing of this kingdom\nof France. Achille knew the reason of each and every individual's\npresence at the _petit lever_ of milor. He knew who was the most\nlikely and most worthy person to fill any post in the country that\nhappened to be vacant, from that of examiner of stars and planets to\nHis Majesty the King down to that of under-scullion in the kitchen of\nVersailles.\n\nHad he not been the means of introducing Baptiste Durand to the\nspecial notice of M. le Marquis? Durand's daughter being\ngirl-in-waiting to M. Joseph, valet-de-chambre to M. le Duc d'Aumont,\nand personal friend of M. Achille, what more natural than, when milor\nwanted a secretary to make notes for him, and to--well, to be present\nif he happened to be wanted--that the worthy Baptiste should with\nperfect ease slip into the vacant post?\n\nAnd Baptiste Durand was remarkably useful.\n\nA small ante-chamber had been allotted for his occupation, through\nwhich all those who were on their way to the _petit lever_ held in\nmilor's own bedchamber had of necessity to pass; and Baptiste knew\nexactly who should be allowed to pass and who should not. Without\nventuring even to refer to His Majesty, to Mme. de Pompadour, to\nMonseigneur le Dauphin, or persons of equally exalted rank, the\nfaithful chroniclers of the time tell us that no gentleman was allowed\na private audience with M. le Controleur-General if his\nvalet-de-chambre was not a personal friend of Monsieur Durand.\n\nThere sat the worthy Baptiste enthroned behind a secretaire which was\nalways littered with papers, petitions, letters, the usual\nparaphernalia that pertains to a man of influence. His meagre person\nwas encased in a coat and breeches of fine scarlet cloth, whereon a\ntiny fillet of gold suggested without unduly flaunting the heraldic\ncolours of the house of Eglinton. He wore silk stockings--always; and\nshoes with cut-steel buckles, whilst frills of broidered lawn\nencircled his wrists and cascaded above his waistcoat.\n\nHe invariably partook of snuff when an unknown and unrecommended\napplicant presented himself in his sanctum. \"My good friend, it is\nimpossible,\" he was saying on this very morning of August 13, 1746,\nwith quiet determination to a petitioner who was becoming too\ninsistent. \"Milor's chamber is overcrowded as it is.\"\n\n\"I'll call again--another day perhaps; my master is anxious for a\npersonal interview with yours.\"\n\nWhereupon M. Durand's eyebrows were lifted upward until they almost\ncame in contact with his perruque; he fetched out a voluminous\nhandkerchief from his pocket and carefully removed a few grains of\ndust from his cravat. Then he said, without raising his voice in the\nslightest degree or showing impatience in any way at the man's\nignorance and stupidity--\n\n\"My good---- What is your name? I forgot.\"\n\n\"I am Hypolite Francois, confidential valet to M. le Marechal de\nCoigni and----\"\n\nM. Durand's thin and delicately veined hand went up in gentle\ndeprecation.\n\n\"Ma foi! my worthy Coigni, 'tis all the same to me if you are a\nmarechal or a simple lieutenant. As for me, young man,\" he added, with\ndignified severity, \"remember in future that I serve no one. I assist\nM. le Controleur-General des Finances to--to----\"--he paused a second,\nwaving his hand and turning the phrase over in his mouth, whilst\nseeking for its most appropriate conclusion--\"to, in fact, make a\nworthy selection amidst the hundreds and thousands of petitions which\nare presented to him.\"\n\nAnd with a vague gesture he indicated the papers which lay in a\ndisordered heap on his secretaire.\n\n\"For the rest, my good Coigni,\" he added, with the same impressive\ndignity, \"let me assure you once again that M. le Marquis's bedchamber\nis overcrowded, that he is busily engaged at the present moment, and\nis likely to be so for some considerable time to come. What is it your\nmarechal wants?\"\n\n\"His pension,\" replied Hypolite curtly, \"and the vacant post in the\nMinistry of War.\"\n\n\"Impossible! We have fourteen likely applicants already.\"\n\n\"M. le Marechal is sure that if he could speak with M. le\nControleur----\"\n\n\"M. le Controleur is busy.\"\n\n\"To-morrow, then----\"\n\n\"To-morrow he will be even more busy than to-day.\"\n\n\"M. Durand!\" pleaded Hypolite.\n\n\"Impossible! You are wasting my time, my good Coigni; I have hundreds\nto see to-day.\"\n\n\"Not for your daughter's sake?\"\n\n\"My daughter?\"\n\n\"Yes; didn't you know? You remember Henriette, her great friend?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes--little Henriette Dessy, the milliner,\" assented M. Durand\nwith vast condescension. \"A pretty wench; she was at the Ursulines\nconvent school with my daughter; they have remained great friends ever\nsince. What about little Henriette?\"\n\n\"Mlle. Henriette is my _fiancee_,\" quoth the other eagerly, \"and I\nthought----\"\n\n\"Your _fiancee_? Little Henriette Dessy?\" said M. Durand gaily.\n\"Pardieu my good Coigni, why did you not tell me so before? My\ndaughter is very fond of Henriette--a pretty minx, par ma foi! He!\nhe!\"\n\n\"You are very kind, M. Durand.\"\n\n\"Mais non, mais non,\" said the great man, with much affability; \"one\nis always ready to oblige a friend. He, now! give me your hand, friend\nCoigni. Shoot your rubbish along--quoi!--your Marechal; he may pass\nthis way. Anything one can do to oblige a friend.\"\n\nWith the affairs of M. le Marechal de Coigni the present chronicle\nhath no further concern; but we know that some ten minutes later on\nthis same August 13, 1746, he succeeded in being present at the _petit\nlever_ of M. le Controleur-General des Finances. Once within the\nsecret precincts of the bedchamber he, like so many other petitioners\nand courtiers, was duly confronted by the stony stare of M. Achille,\nand found himself face to face with an enormous bedstead of delicately\npainted satinwood and ormulu mounts, draped with heavy azure silk\ncurtains which hung down from a gilded baldachin, the whole a\nmasterpiece of the furniture-maker's art.\n\nThe scent of chocolate filled his nostrils, and he vaguely saw a\ngood-looking young man reclining under a coverlet of magnificent\nVenetian lace, and listening placidly to what was obviously a very\namusing tale related to him by well-rouged lips. From the billowy\nsatins and laces of the couch a delicate hand was waved toward him as\nhe attempted to pay his respects to the most powerful man in France;\nthe next moment the same stony-faced gorgon clad in scarlet and gold\nbeckoned to him to follow, and he found himself being led through the\nbrilliantly dressed crowd toward a compact group of backs, which\nformed a sort of living wall, painted in delicate colours of green and\nmauve and gray, and duly filled up the approach to the main window\nembrasure.\n\nIt is interesting to note from the memoirs of M. le Comte d'Argenson\nthat the Marechal de Coigni duly filled the post of State Secretary to\nthe Minister of War from the year 1746 onward. We may, therefore,\npresume that he succeeded in piercing that wall of respectful backs\nand in reaching sufficiently far within the charmed circle to attract\nthe personal attention of Mme. la Marquise Lydie d'Eglinton _nee_\nd'Aumont.\n\nHe had, therefore, cause to bless the day when his valet-de-chambre\nbecame the _fiance_ of Mlle. Henriette Dessy, the intimate friend of\nM. Baptiste Durand's dearly beloved daughter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nLA BELLE IRENE\n\n\nMonsieur Durand had indeed not exaggerated when he spoke of M. le\nControleur's bedchamber being overcrowded this same eventful morning.\n\nAll that France possessed of nobility, of wit and of valour, seemed to\nhave found its way on this beautiful day in August past the magic\nportal guarded by Baptiste, the dragon, to the privileged enclosure\nbeyond, where milor in elegant _robe de chambre_ reclined upon his\ngorgeous couch, whilst Madame, clad in hooped skirt and panniers of\ndove-gray silk, directed the affairs of France from the embrasure of a\nwindow.\n\n\"Achille, my shoes!\"\n\nWe must surmise that his lordship had been eagerly awaiting the\nstriking of the bracket clock which immediately faced the bed, for the\nmoment the musical chimes had ceased to echo in the crowded room he\nhad thrown aside the lace coverlet which had lain across his legs and\ncalled peremptorily for his valet.\n\n\"Only half-past ten, milor!\" came in reproachful accents from a pair\nof rosy lips.\n\n\"Ma foi, so it is!\" exclaimed Lord Eglinton, with well-feigned\nsurprise, as he once more glanced up at the clock.\n\n\"Were you then so bored in my company,\" rejoined the lady, with a\npout, \"that you thought the hour later?\"\n\n\"Bored!\" he exclaimed. \"Bored, did you say, Madame? Perish the very\nthought of boredom in the presence of Mme. la Comtesse de Stainville!\"\n\nBut in spite of this gallant assertion, M. le Controleur seemed in a\nvast hurry to quit the luxuriance of his azure-hung throne. M.\nAchille--that paragon among flunkeys--looked solemnly reproachful.\nSurely milor should have known by now that etiquette demanded that he\nshould stay in bed until he had received every person of high rank who\ndesired an intimate audience.\n\nThere were still some high-born, exalted, and much beribboned\ngentlemen who had not succeeded in reaching the inner precincts of\nthat temple and fount of honours and riches--the bedside of M. le\nControleur. But Monseigneur le Prince de Courtenai was there--he in\nwhose veins flowed royal blood, and who spent a strenuous life in\nendeavouring to make France recognize this obvious fact. He sat in an\narm-chair at the foot of the bed, discussing the unfortunate events of\nJune 16th at Piacenza and young Comte de Maillebois's subsequent\nmasterly retreat on Tortone, with Christian Louis de Montmorenci, Duc\nde Luxembourg, the worthy son of an able father and newly created\nMarshal of France.\n\nClose to them, Monsieur le Comte de Vermandois, Grand Admiral of\nFrance, was intent on explaining to M. le Chancelier d'Aguesseau why\nEngland just now was supreme mistress of the seas. M. d'Isenghien\ntalked poetry to Jolyot Crebillon, and M. le Duc d'Harcourt discussed\nVoltaire's latest play with ex-comedian and ex-ambassador\nNericault-Destouche, whilst Mme. la Comtesse de Stainville, still\ncalled \"la belle brune de Bordeaux\" by her many admirers, had been\nendeavouring to divert M. le Controleur's attention from this\nmultiplicity of abstruse subjects.\n\nOutside this magic circle there was a gap, a barrier of parquet\nflooring which no one would dare to traverse without a distinct look\nof encouragement from M. Achille. His Majesty had not yet arrived, and\ntongues wagged freely in the vast and gorgeous room, with its row of\ntall windows which gave on the great s of the Park of Versailles.\nThrough them came the pleasing sound of the perpetual drip from the\nmonumental fountains, the twitter of sparrows, the scent of lingering\nroses and of belated lilies. No other sound from that outside world,\nno other life save the occasional footstep of a gardener along the\nsanded walks. But within all was chatter and bustle; women talked, men\nlaughed and argued, society scandals were commented upon and the\nnewest fashions in coiffures discussed. The men wore cloth coats of\nsober hues, but the women had donned light- dresses, for the\nsummer was at its height and this August morning was aglow with\nsunshine.\n\nMme. de Stainville's rose- gown was the one vivid patch of\ncolour in the picture of delicate hues. She stood close to M. le\nControleur's bedside and unceremoniously turned her back on the rest\nof the company; we must presume that she was a very privileged\nvisitor, for no one--not even Monseigneur le Prince de\nCourtenai--ventured to approach within earshot. It was understood that\nin milor's immediate entourage la belle Irene alone was allowed to be\nfrivolous, and we are told that she took full advantage of this\npermission.\n\nAll chroniclers of the period distinctly aver that the lady was vastly\nentertaining; even M. de Voltaire mentions her as one of the\nsprightliest women of that light-hearted and vivacious Court.\nBeautiful, too, beyond cavil, her position as the wife of one of the\nmost brilliant cavaliers that e'er graced the entourage of Mme. de\nPompadour gave her a certain dignity of bearing, a self-conscious gait\nand proud carriage of the head which had considerably added to the\ncharms which she already possessed. The stiff, ungainly mode of the\nperiod suited her somewhat full figure to perfection; the tight\ncorslet bodice, the wide panniers, the ridiculous hooped skirt--all\nseemed to have been specially designed to suit the voluptuous beauty\nof Irene de Stainville.\n\nM. d'Argenson when speaking of her has described her very fully. He\nspeaks of her abnormally small waist, which seemed to challenge the\nsupport of a masculine arm, and of her creamy skin which she knew so\nwell how to veil in transparent folds of filmy lace. She made of dress\na special study, and her taste, though daring, was always sure. Even\nduring these early morning receptions, when soft-toned mauves, tender\ndrabs or grays were mostly in evidence, Irene de Stainville usually\nappeared in brocade of brilliant rosy-red, turquoise blue, or emerald\ngreen; she knew that these somewhat garish tones, mellowed only\nthrough the richness of the material, set off to perfection the matt\nivory tint of her complexion, and detached her entire person from the\nrest of the picture.\n\nYet even her most ardent admirers tell us that Irene de Stainville's\nvanity went almost beyond the bounds of reason in its avidity for\nfulsome adulation. Consciousness of her own beauty was not sufficient;\nshe desired its acknowledgment from others. She seemed to feed on\nflattery, breathing it in with every pore of her delicate skin,\ndrooping like a parched flower when full measure was denied to her.\nMany aver that she marred her undoubted gifts of wit through this\ninsatiable desire for one sole topic of conversation--her own beauty\nand its due meed of praise. At the same time her love of direct and\nobsequious compliments was so ingenuous, and she herself so undeniably\nfascinating, that, in the hey-day of her youth and attractions, she\nhad no difficulty in obtaining ready response to her wishes from the\nhighly susceptible masculine element at the Court of Louis XV.\n\nM. le Controleur-General--whom she specially honoured with her\nsmiles--had certainly no intention of shirking the pleasing duty\nattached to this distinction, and, though he was never counted a\nbrilliant conversationalist, he never seemed at a loss for the exact\nword of praise which would tickle la belle Irene's ears most\npleasantly.\n\nAnd truly no man's heart could be sufficiently adamant to deny to that\nbrilliantly-plumaged bird the tit-bits which it loved the best. Milor\nhimself had all the sensitiveness of his race where charms--such as\nIrene freely displayed before him--were concerned, and when her\nsmiling lips demanded acknowledgment of her beauty from him he was\nready enough to give it.\n\n\"Let them settle the grave affairs of State over there,\" she had said\nto him this morning, when first she made her curtsey before him. And\nwith a provocative smile she pointed to the serious-looking group of\ngrave gentlemen that surrounded his bedside, and also to the compact\nrow of backs which stood in serried ranks round Mme. la Marquise\nd'Eglinton in the embrasure of the central window. \"Life is too short\nfor such insignificant trifles.\"\n\n\"We only seem to last long enough to make love thoroughly to half a\ndozen pretty women in a lifetime,\" replied M. le Controleur, as he\ngallantly raised her fingers to his lips.\n\n\"Half a dozen!\" she retorted, with a pout. \"Ah, milor, I see that your\ncountrymen are not maligned! The English have such a reputation for\nperfidy!\"\n\n\"But I have become so entirely French!\" he protested. \"England would\nscarce know me now.\"\n\nAnd with a whimsical gesture he pointed to the satin hangings of his\nbed, the rich point lace coverlet, and to his own very elaborate and\nelegant _robe de chambre_.\n\n\"Is that said in regret?\" she asked.\n\n\"Nay,\" he replied, \"there is no more place for regret than there is\nfor boredom in sight of smiles from those perfect lips.\"\n\nShe blushed, and allowed her hands--which were particularly\nbeautiful--to finger idly the silks and laces which were draped so\ntastefully about his person. As her eyes were downcast in dainty and\nbecoming confusion, she failed to notice that M. le Controleur was\nsomewhat absent-minded this morning, and that, had he dared, he would\nat this juncture undoubtedly have yawned. But of this she was\nobviously unconscious, else she had not now murmured so persuasively.\n\n\"Am I beautiful?\"\n\n\"What a question!\" he replied.\n\n\"The most beautiful woman here present?\" she insisted.\n\n\"Par ma foi!\" he protested gaily. \"Was ever married man put in so\nawkward a predicament?\"\n\n\"Married man? Bah!\" and she shrugged her pretty shoulders.\n\n\"I am a married man, fair lady, and the law forbids me to answer so\nprovoking a question.\"\n\n\"This is cowardly evasion,\" she rejoined. \"Mme. la Marquise, your\nwife, only acknowledges one supremacy--that of the mind. She would\nscorn to be called the most beautiful woman in the room.\"\n\n\"And M. le Comte de Stainville, your lord, would put a hole right\nthrough my body were I now to speak the unvarnished truth.\"\n\nIrene apparently chose to interpret milor's equivocal speech in the\nmanner most pleasing to her self-love. She looked over her shoulder\ntoward the window embrasure. She saw that Mme. la Marquise\nd'Eglinton's court was momentarily dismissed, and that M. le Duc\nd'Aumont had just joined his daughter. She also saw that Lydie looked\ntroubled, and that she threw across the room a look of haughty\nreproof.\n\nNothing could have pleased Irene de Stainville more.\n\nApart from the satisfaction which her own inordinate vanity felt at\nthe present moment by enchaining milor's attention and receiving his\nundivided homage in full sight of the _elite_ of aristocratic\nVersailles, there was the additional pleasure of dealing a pin-prick\nor so to a woman who had once been her rival, and who was undoubtedly\nnow the most distinguished as she was the most adulated personality in\nFrance.\n\nIrene had never forgiven Lydie Gaston's defalcations on that memorable\nnight, when a humiliating exposure and subsequent scene led to the\ndisclosure of her own secret marriage, and thus put a momentary check\non her husband's ambitious schemes.\n\nFrom that check he had since then partially recovered. Mme. de\nPompadour's good graces which she never wholly withdrew from him had\ngiven him a certain position of influence and power, from which his\nlack of wealth would otherwise have debarred him. But even with the\nuncertain and fickle Marquise's help Gaston de Stainville was far from\nattaining a position such as his alliance with Lydie would literally\nhave thrown into his lap, such, of course, as fell to the share of the\namiable milor, who had succeeded in capturing the golden prey. In\nthese days of petticoat government feminine protection was the chief\nleverage for advancement; Irene, however, could do nothing for her\nhusband without outside help; conscious of her own powers of\nfascination, she had cast about for the most likely prop on which she\ncould lean gracefully whilst helping Gaston to climb upward.\n\nThe King himself was too deeply in the toils of his fair Jeanne to\nhave eyes for any one save for her. M. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister\nof France, was his daughter's slave; there remained M. le\nControleur-General himself--a figure-head as far as the affairs of\nState were concerned, but wielding a great deal of personal power\nthrough the vastness of his wealth which Lydie rather affected to\ndespise.\n\nIrene, therefore--_faute de mieux_--turned her languishing eyes upon\nM. le Controleur. Her triumph was pleasing to herself, and might in\ndue course prove useful to Gaston, if she succeeded presently in\ncounterbalancing Lydie's domineering influence over milor. For the\nmoment her vanity was agreeably soothed, although \"la belle brune de\nBordeaux\" herself was fully alive to the fact that, while her\nwhispered conversations at milor's _petits levers_, her sidelong\nglances and conscious blushes called forth enough mischievous oglings\nand equivocal jests from the more frivolous section of society\nbutterflies, Lydie only viewed her and her machinations with cold and\nsomewhat humiliating indifference.\n\n\"And,\" as M. d'Argenson very pertinently remarked that self-same\nmorning, \"would any beautiful woman care to engage the attentions of a\nman unless she aroused at the same time the jealousy or at least the\nannoyance of a rival?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE PROMISES OF FRANCE\n\n\nIndeed, if Irene de Stainville had possessed more penetration, or had\nat any rate studied Lydie's face more closely, she would never have\nimagined for a moment that thoughts of petty spite or of feminine\npique could find place in the busiest brain that ever toiled for the\nwelfare of France.\n\nHistory has no doubt said the last word on the subject of that brief\ninterregnum, when a woman's masterful hand tried to check the\nextravagances of a King and the ruinous caprices of a wanton, and when\na woman's will tried to restrain a nation in its formidable onrush\ndown the steep incline which led to the abyss of the Revolution.\n\nMany historians have sneered--perhaps justly so--at this apotheosis of\nfeminity, and pointed to the fact that, while that special era of\npetticoat government lasted, Louis XV in no way stopped his excesses\nnor did Pompadour deny herself the satisfaction of a single whim,\nwhilst France continued uninterruptedly to groan under the yoke of\noppressive taxation, of bribery and injustice, and to suffer from the\narrogance of her nobles and the corruption of her magistrates.\n\nThe avowed partisans of Lydie d'Eglinton contend on the other hand\nthat her rule lasted too short a time to be of real service to the\ncountry, and that those who immediately succeeded her were either too\nweak or too self-seeking to continue this new system of government\ninstituted by her, and based on loftiness of ideals and purity of\nmotives, a system totally unknown hitherto. They also insist on the\nfact that while she virtually held the reins of government over the\nheads of her indolent lord and her over-indulgent father, she brought\nabout many highly beneficent social reforms which would have become\nfirmly established had she remained several years in power; there is\nno doubt that she exercised a wholesome influence over the existing\nadministration of justice and the distribution of the country's money;\nand this in spite of endless cabals and the petty intrigues and\njealousies of numberless enemies.\n\nBe that as it may, the present chronicler is bound to put it on record\nthat, at the moment when Irene de Stainville vaguely wondered whether\nMadame la Marquise was looking reprovingly at her, when she hoped that\nshe had at last succeeded in rousing the other woman's jealousy, the\nlatter's mind was dwelling with more than usual anxiousness on the sad\nevents of the past few months.\n\nHer severe expression was only the outcome of a more than normal sense\nof responsibility. The flattering courtiers and meddlesome women who\nsurrounded her seemed to Lydie this morning more than usually\nbrainless and vapid. Her own father, to whose integrity and keen sense\nof honour she always felt that she could make appeal, was unusually\nabsent and morose to-day; and she felt unspeakably lonely here in the\nmidst of her immediate _entourage_--lonely and oppressed. She wanted\nto mix more with the general throng, the men and women of France,\narrogant nobles or obsequious churls, merchants, attorneys,\nphysicians, savants, she cared not which; the nation, in fact, the\npeople who had sympathy and high ideals, and a keener sense of the\ndignity of France.\n\nWhile these sycophants were for ever wanting, wanting, wanting,\nstanding before her, as it were, with hands outstretched ready to\nreceive bribes, commissions, places of influence or affluence, Charles\nEdward Stuart, lately the guest of the nation, the friend of many,\nwhom France herself little more than a year ago had feasted and\ntoasted, to whom she had wished \"God-speed!\" was now a miserable\nfugitive, hiding in peasants' huts, beneath overhanging crags on the\ndeserted shores of Scotland, a price put upon his head, and the\ndevotion of a few helpless enthusiasts, a girl, an old retainer, as\nsole barrier 'twixt him and death.\n\nAnd France had promised that she would help him. She promised that she\nwould succour him if he failed, that she would not abandon him in his\ndistress--neither him nor his friends.\n\nAnd now disaster had come--disaster so overwhelming, so appalling,\nthat France at first had scarce liked to believe. Every one was so\nastonished; had they not thought that England, Scotland and Ireland\nwere clamouring for a Stuart? That the entire British nation was\nwanting him, waiting for him, ready to acclaim him with open arms? The\nfirst successes--Falkirk, Prestonpans--had surprised no one. The young\nPretender's expedition was bound to be nothing but a triumphal\nprocession through crowded streets, decorated towns and beflagged\nvillages, with church bells ringing, people shouting, deputations,\nboth civic and military, waiting hat in hand, with sheaves of loyal\naddresses.\n\nInstead of this, Culloden, Derby, the hasty retreat, treachery, and\nthe horrible reprisals. All that was common property now.\n\nFrance knew that the young prince whom she had _feted_ was perhaps at\nthis moment dying of want, and yet these hands which had grasped his\nwere not stretched out to help him, the lips which had encouraged and\ncheered him, which had even gently mocked his gloomy mood, still\nsmiled and chatted as irresponsibly as of yore, and spoke the\nfugitive's name at careless moments 'twixt a laugh and a jest.\n\nAnd this in spite of promises.\n\nShe had dismissed her _entourage_ with a curt nod just now, when her\nfather first joined her circle. At any rate, her position of splendid\nisolation should give her the right this morning to be alone with him,\nsince she so wished it. At first glance she saw that he was troubled,\nand her anxious eyes closely scanned his face. But he seemed\ndetermined not to return her scrutinizing glance, and anon, when one\nby one M. de Coigni, the Count de Bailleul, and others who had been\ntalking to Lydie, discreetly stepped aside, he seemed anxious to\ndetain them, eager not to be left quite alone with his daughter.\n\nSeeing his manoeuvres, Lydie's every suspicion was aroused; something\nhad occurred to disturb her father this morning, something which he\ndid not intend to tell her. She drew him further back into the window\nembrasure and made room for him close to her on the settee. She looked\nup impatiently at the Dowager Lady Eglinton, who had calmly stood her\nground whilst the other intimates were being so summarily dismissed.\nMiladi appeared determined to ignore her daughter-in-law's desire to\nbe alone with her father, and it even seemed to Lydie as if a look of\nunderstanding had passed between the Duke and the old lady when first\nthey met.\n\nShe felt her nervous system on the jar. Thoroughly frank and open in\nall political dealings herself, she loathed the very hint of a secret\nunderstanding. Yet she trusted her father, even though she feared his\nweakness.\n\nShe talked of Charles Edward Stuart, for that was her chief\npreoccupation. She lauded him and pitied him in turn, spoke of his\npredicament, his flight, the devotion of his Scotch adherents, and\nfinally of France's promise to him.\n\n\"God grant,\" she said fervently, \"that France may not be too late in\ndoing her duty by that ill-starred prince.\"\n\n\"Nay, my dear child, it is sheer madness to think of such a thing,\"\nsaid the Duke, speaking in tones of gentle reproof and soothingly, as\nif to a wilful child.\n\n\"He! pardieu!\" broke in miladi's sharp, high-pitched voice: \"that is\nprecisely what I have been trying to explain to Lydie these past two\nweeks, but she will not listen and is not even to be spoken to on that\nsubject now. Do you scold her well, M. le Duc, for I have done my\nbest--and her obstinacy will lead my son into dire disgrace with His\nMajesty, who doth not favour her plans.\"\n\n\"Miladi is right, Lydie,\" said the Duke, \"and if I thought that your\nhusband----\"\n\n\"Nay, my dear father!\" interrupted Lydie calmly; \"I pray you do not\nvent your displeasure on Lord Eglinton. As you see, Mme. la Comtesse\nde Stainville is doing her best to prevent his thoughts from dwelling\non the fate of his unfortunate friend.\"\n\nIt was the Duke's turn to scrutinize his daughter's face, vaguely\nwondering if she had spoken in bitterness, not altogether sorry if\nthis new train of thought were to divert her mind from that eternal\nsubject of the moribund Stuart cause, which seemed to have become an\nobsession with her. He half-turned in the direction where Lydie's eyes\nwere still fixed, and saw a patch of bright rose colour, clear and\nvivid against the dull hangings of M. le Controleur's couch, whilst\nthe elegant outline of a woman's stately form stood between his line\nof vision and the face of his son-in-law.\n\nThe Duc d'Aumont dearly loved his daughter, but he also vastly admired\nher intellectual power, therefore at sight of that graceful, rose-clad\nfigure he shrugged his shoulders in amiable contempt. Bah! Lydie was\nfar too clever to dwell on such foolish matters as the vapid\nflirtations of a brainless doll, even if the object of such\nflirtations was the subjugation of milor.\n\nLady Eglinton had also perceived Lydie's fixity of expression just now\nwhen she spoke of Irene, but whilst M. le Duc carelessly shrugged his\nshoulders and dismissed the matter from his mind, miladi boldly threw\nherself across her daughter-in-law's new trend of thought.\n\n\"My son for once shows sound common sense,\" she said decisively; \"why\nshould France be led into further extravagance and entangle herself,\nperhaps, in the meshes of a hopeless cause by----\"\n\n\"By fulfilling a solemn promise,\" interrupted Lydie quietly, whilst\nshe turned her earnest eyes on her mother-in-law in the manner so\ncharacteristic of her--\"a promise which the very hopelessness of which\nyou speak has rendered doubly sacred.\"\n\n\"His Majesty is not of that opinion,\" retorted the older woman\ntestily, \"and we must concede that he is the best judge of what France\nowes to her own honour.\"\n\nTo this challenge it was obviously impossible to reply in the\nnegative, and if Lydie's heart whispered \"Not always!\" her lips\ncertainly did not move.\n\nShe looked appealingly at her father; she wanted more than ever to be\nalone with him, to question him, to reassure herself as to certain\nvague suspicions which troubled her and which would not be stilled.\nShe longed, above all, to be rid of her mother-in-law's interfering\ntongue, of the platitudes, which she uttered, and which had the knack\nof still further jarring on Lydie's over-sensitive nerves.\n\nBut the Duke did not help her. Usually he, too, was careful to avoid\ndirect discussions with Lady Eglinton, whose rasping voice was wont to\nirritate him, but this morning he seemed disinclined to meet Lydie's\nappealing eyes. He fidgeted in his chair, and anon he crossed one\nshapely leg over the other and thoughtfully stroked his well-turned\ncalf.\n\n\"There are moments in diplomacy, my dear child----\" he began, after a\nmoment of oppressive silence.\n\n\"My dear father,\" interrupted Lydie, with grave determination, \"let me\ntell you once for all that over this matter my mind is fully made up.\nWhile I have a voice in the administration of this Kingdom of France,\nI will not allow her to sully her fair name by such monstrous\ntreachery as the abandonment of a friend who trusted in her honour and\nthe promises she made him.\"\n\nHer voice had shaken somewhat as she spoke. Altogether she seemed\nunlike herself, less sure, less obstinately dominant. That look of\nunderstanding between her father and Lady Eglinton had troubled her in\na way for which she could not account. Yet she knew that the whole\nmatter rested in her own hands. No one--not even His Majesty--had ever\nquestioned her right to deal with Treasury money. And money was all\nthat was needed. Though the final word nominally rested with milor, he\nleft her perfectly free, and she could act as she thought right,\nwithout let or hindrance.\n\nYet, strangely enough, she felt as if she wanted support in this\nmatter. It was a purely personal feeling, and one she did not care to\nanalyse. She had no doubt whatever as to the justice and righteousness\nof her desire, but in this one solitary instance of her masterful\nadministration she seemed to require the initiative, or at least the\napproval, of her father or of the King.\n\nInstead of this approval she vaguely scented intrigue.\n\nShe rose from the settee and went to the window behind it. The\natmosphere of the room had suddenly become stifling. Fortunately the\ntall casements were unlatched. They yielded to a gentle push, and\nLydie stepped out on to the balcony. Already the air was hot, and the\nsun shone glaringly on the marble fountains, and drew sparks of fire\nfrom the dome of the conservatories. The acrid, pungent smell of\ncannas and of asters rose to her nostrils, drowning the subtler aroma\nof tea roses and of lilies; the monotonous drip of the fountains was a\nsoothing contrast in her ear to the babel of voices within.\n\nAt her feet the well-sanded walks of the park stretched out like\nribbons of pale gold to the dim, vast distance beyond; the curly heads\nof Athenian athletes peeped from among the well-trimmed bosquets,\nshowing the immaculate whiteness of the polished marble in the sun. A\ncouple of gardeners clad in shirts of vivid blue linen were stooping\nover a bed of monthly roses, picking off dead leaves and twigs that\nspoilt the perfect symmetry of the shrubs, whilst two more a few\npaces away were perfecting the smoothness of a box hedge, lest a tiny\nleaflet were out of place.\n\nLydie sighed impatiently. Even in this vastness and this peace, man\nbrought his artificiality to curb the freedom of nature. Everything in\nthis magnificent park was affected, stilted and forced; every tree was\nfashioned to a shape not its own, every flower made to be a\ncounterpart of its fellow.\n\nThis sense of unreality, of fighting nature in its every aspect, was\nwhat had always oppressed her, even when she worked at first in\nperfect harmony with her father, when she still had those utopian\nhopes of a regenerate France, with a wise and beneficent monarch, an\nera of truth and of fraternity, every one toiling hand-in-hand for the\ngood of the nation.\n\nWhat a child she had been in those days! How little she had understood\nthis hydra-headed monster of self-seeking ambition, of political\nwire-pulling, of petty cabals and personal animosities which fought\nand crushed and trampled on every lofty ideal, on every clean thought\nand high-minded aspiration.\n\nShe knew and understood better now. She had outgrown her childish\nideals: those she now kept were a woman's ideals, no less pure, no\nless high or noble, but lacking just one great quality--that of hope.\nShe had continued to work and to do her best for this country which\nshe loved--her own beautiful France. She had--with no uncertain\nhand--seized the reins of government from the diffident fingers of her\nlord, she still strove to fight corruption, to curb excesses and to\ncheck arrogance, and made vain endeavours to close her eyes to the\nfutility of her noblest efforts.\n\nThis attitude of King Louis toward the Young Pretender had brought it\nall home to her; the intrigues, the lying, the falseness of\neverything, the treachery which lurked in every corner of this\nsumptuous palace, the egoism which was the sole moving power of those\noverdressed dolls.\n\nPerhaps for the first time since--in all the glory and pride of her\nyoung womanhood--she became conscious of its power over the weaker and\nsterner vessel, she felt a sense of discouragement, the utter\nhopelessness of her desires. Her heart even suggested contempt of\nherself, of her weak-minded foolishness in imagining that all those\nempty heads in the room yonder could bring forth one single serious\nthought from beneath their powdered perruques, one single wholly\nselfless aspiration for the good of France; any more than that\nstultified rose-tree could produce a bloom of splendid perfection or\nthat stunted acacia intoxicate the air with the fragrance of its\nbloom.\n\nSolitude had taken hold of Lydie's fancy. She had allowed her mind to\ngo roaming, fancy-free. Her thoughts were melancholy and anxious, and\nshe sighed or frowned more than once. The air was becoming hotter and\nhotter every moment, and a gigantic bed of scarlet geraniums sent a\ncurious acrid scent to her nostrils, which she found refreshing. Anon\nshe succeeded in shutting out from her eyes the picture of those\ngardeners maiming the rose-trees and bosquets, and in seeing only that\ndistant horizon with the vague, tiny fleecy clouds which were hurrying\nquite gaily and freely to some unknown destination, far, no doubt,\nfrom this world of craft and affectation. She shut her ears to the\nsound of miladi's shrill laugh and the chatter of senseless fools\nbehind her, and only tried to hear the rippling murmur of the water in\nthe fountains, the merry chirrup of the sparrows, and far, very far\naway, the sweet, sad note of a lark soaring upward to the serene\nmorning sky.\n\nThe sound of a footstep on the flag-stones of the balcony broke in on\nher meditations. Her father, still wearing that troubled look, was\ncoming out to join her. Fortunately miladi had chosen to remain\nindoors.\n\nImpulsively now, for her nerves were still quivering with the tension\nof recent introspection, she went straight up to this man whom she\nmost fully trusted in all the world, and took his hands in both hers.\n\n\"My dear, dear father,\" she pleaded, with her wonted earnestness, \"you\n_will_ help me, will you not?\"\n\nHe looked more troubled than ever at her words, almost pathetic in his\nobvious helplessness, as he ejaculated feebly:\n\n\"But what can we do, my dear child?\"\n\n\"Send _Le Monarque_ to meet Prince Charles Edward,\" she urged; \"it is\nso simple.\"\n\n\"It is very hazardous, and would cost a vast amount of money. In the\npresent state of the Treasury----\"\n\n\"My dear father, France can afford the luxury of not selling her\nhonour.\"\n\n\"And the English will be furious with us.\"\n\n\"The English cannot do more than fight us, and they are doing that\nalready!\" she retorted.\n\n\"The risks, my dear child, the risks!\" he protested again.\n\n\"What risks, father dear?\" she said eagerly. \"Tell me, what do we risk\nby sending _Le Monarque_ with secret orders to the Scottish coast, to\na spot known to no one save to Lord Eglinton and myself, confided to\nmy husband by the unfortunate young Prince before he started on this\nmiserable expedition? Captain Barre will carry nothing that can in\nany way betray the secret of his destination nor the object of his\njourney--my husband's seal-ring on his finger, nothing more; this\ntoken he will take on shore himself--not even the ship's crew will\nknow aught that would be fatal if betrayed.\"\n\n\"But the English can intercept _Le Monarque_!\"\n\n\"We must run that risk,\" she retorted. \"Once past the coast of\nEngland, Scotland is lonely enough. _Le Monarque_ will meet no other\ncraft, and Captain Barre knows the secrets of his own calling--he has\nrun a cargo before now.\"\n\n\"This is childish obstinacy, Lydie, and I do not recognize the\nstatesman in this sentimental chit, who prates nonsense like a\nschoolgirl imbued with novel-reading,\" said the Duke now with marked\nimpatience; \"and pray, if His Majesty should put a veto on your using\none of his ships for this privateering expedition?\"\n\n\"I propose sending _Le Monarque_ to-morrow,\" rejoined Lydie quietly.\n\"Captain Barre will have his orders direct from the Ministry of\nFinance; and then we'll obtain His Majesty's sanction on the following\nday.\"\n\n\"But this is madness, my child!\" exclaimed the Duke. \"You cannot\nopenly set at defiance the wishes of the King!\"\n\n\"The wishes of the King?\" she cried, with sudden vehemence. \"Surely,\nsurely, my dear, dear father, you cannot mean what you suggest! Think!\noh, think just for one moment! That poor young man, who was our guest,\nwhom we all liked--he broke bread with us in our own house, our\nbeautiful chateau de la Tour d'Aumont, which has never yet been\ndefiled by treachery. And you talk of leaving him there in that\nfar-off land which has proved so inhospitable to him? Of leaving him\nthere either to perish miserably of want and starvation or to fall\ninto the hands of that Hanoverian butcher whose name has become a\nby-word for unparalleled atrocities?\"\n\nShe checked herself, and then resumed more calmly:\n\n\"Nay, my dear father, I pray you let us cease this argument; for once\nin the history of our happy life together you and I look at honour\nfrom opposite points of view.\"\n\n\"Yes, my dear, I see that, too,\" he rejoined, speaking now with some\nhesitation. \"I wish I could persuade you to abandon the idea.\"\n\n\"To abandon the unfortunate young Prince, you mean, to break every\npromise we ever made to him--to become the by-word in our turn for\ntreachery and cowardice in every country in Europe--and why?\" she\nadded, with helpless impatience, trying to understand, dreading almost\nto question. \"Why? Why?\"\n\nThen, as her father remained silent, with eyes persistently fixed on\nsome vague object in the remote distance, she said, as if acting on a\nsudden decisive thought:\n\n\"Father, dear, is it solely a question of cost?\"\n\n\"Partly,\" he replied, with marked hesitation.\n\n\"Partly? Well, then, dear, we will remove one cause of your\nunexplainable opposition. You may assure His Majesty in my name that\nthe voyage of _Le Monarque_ shall cost the Treasury nothing.\"\n\nThen as her father made no comment, she continued more eagerly:\n\n\"Lord Eglinton will not deny me, as you know; he is rich and Charles\nEdward Stuart is his friend. What _Le Monarque_ has cost for\nprovisioning, that we will immediately replace. For the moment we\nwill borrow this ship from His Majesty's navy. _That_ he _cannot_\nrefuse! and I give you and His Majesty my word of honour that _Le\nMonarque_ shall not cost the Treasury one single sou--even the pay of\nher crew shall be defrayed by us from the moment that she sails out of\nLe Havre until the happy moment when she returns home with Prince\nCharles Edward Stuart and his friends safe and sound aboard.\"\n\nThere was silence between them for awhile. The Duc d'Aumont's eyes\nwere fixed steadily on a distant point on the horizon, but Lydie's\neyes never for a second strayed away from her father's face.\n\n\"Will _Le Monarque_ have a long journey to make?\" asked the Duke\nlightly.\n\n\"Yes!\" she replied.\n\n\"To the coast of Scotland?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"The west coast, of course?\"\n\n\"Why should you ask, dear?\"\n\nShe asked him this question quite casually, then, as he did not reply,\nshe asked it again, this time with a terrible tightening of her\nheart-strings. Suddenly she remembered her suspicions, when first she\ncaught the glance of intelligence which passed swiftly from him to\nmiladi.\n\nWith a quick gesture of intense agitation she placed a hand on his\nwrist.\n\n\"Father!\" she said in a scarce audible murmur.\n\n\"Yes, my dear. What is it?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I--I have been much troubled of late. I do not think\nthat my perceptions are perhaps as keen as they were--and as you say,\nthis matter of the Stuart Prince has weighed heavily on my mind.\nTherefore, will you forgive me, dear, if--if I ask you a question\nwhich may sound undutiful, disloyal to you?\"\n\n\"Of course I will forgive you, dear,\" he said, after a slight moment\nof hesitation. \"What is it?\"\n\nHe had pulled himself together, and now met his daughter's glance with\nsufficient firmness, apparently to reassure her somewhat, for she said\nmore quietly:\n\n\"Will you give me your word of honour that you personally know of no\nact of treachery which may be in contemplation against the man who\ntrusts in the honour of France?\"\n\nHer glowing eyes rested upon his; they seemed desirous of penetrating\nto the innermost recesses of his soul. M. le Duc d'Aumont tried to\nbear the scrutiny without flinching but he was no great actor, nor was\nhe in the main a dishonourable man, but he thought his daughter unduly\nchivalrous, and he held that political considerations were outside the\nordinary standards of honour and morality.\n\nAnyway he could not bring himself to give her a definite reply; her\nhand still grasped his wrist--he took it in his own and raised it to\nhis lips.\n\n\"My father!\" she pleaded, her voice trembling, her eyes still fixed\nupon him, \"will you not answer my question?\"\n\n\"It is answered, my dear,\" he replied evasively. \"Do you think it\nworthy of me--your father--to protest mine honesty before my own\nchild?\"\n\nShe looked at him no longer, and gently withdrew her hand from his\ngrasp. She understood that, indeed, he had answered her question.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE WEIGHT OF ETIQUETTE\n\n\nPerhaps certain characteristics which milor the Marquis of Eglinton\nhad inherited from his English grandfather caused him to assume a more\nelaborate costume for his _petit lever_ than the rigid court etiquette\nof the time had prescribed.\n\nAccording to every mandate of usage and fashion, when, at exactly\nhalf-past ten o'clock, he had asked M. Achille so peremptorily for his\nshoes and then sat on the edge of his bed, with legs dangling over its\nsides, he should have been attired in a flowered dressing gown over a\nlace-ruffled _chemise de nuit_, and a high-peaked _bonnet-de-coton_\nwith the regulation tassel should have taken the place of the still\nabsent perruque.\n\nThen all the distinguished gentlemen who stood nearest to him would\nhave known what to do. They had all attended _petits levers_ of kings,\ncourtisanes, and Ministers, ever since their rank and dignities\nentitled them so to do. Mme. la Comtesse de Stainville, for instance,\nwould have stepped aside at this precise juncture with a deep curtsey\nand mayhap a giggle or a smirk--since she was privileged to be\nfrivolous--whereupon M. Achille would with the proper decorum due to\nso solemn a function have handed M. le Controleur's day shirt to the\nvisitor of highest rank there present, who was privileged to pass it\nover milor's head.\n\nThat important formality accomplished, the great man's toilet could be\ncompleted by _M. le valet-de-chambre_ himself. But who had ever heard\nof a Minister's _petit-lever_ being brought to a close without the\nceremony of his being helped on with his shirt by a prince of the\nblood, or at least a marshal of France?\n\nHowever, _le petit Anglais_ had apparently some funny notions of his\nown--heirlooms, no doubt, from that fog-ridden land beyond the seas,\nthe home of his ancestors--and vainly had Monsieur Achille, that\nparagon among flunkeys, tried to persuade his Marquis not to set the\nhitherto inviolate etiquette of the Court of France quite so\nflagrantly at defiance.\n\nAll his efforts had been in vain.\n\nMonsieur d'Argenson, who was present on this 13th of August, 1746,\ntells us that when milor did call for his shoes at least ten minutes\ntoo soon, and was thereupon tenderly reproached by Madame la Comtesse\nde Stainville for this ungallant haste, he was already more than half\ndressed.\n\nTrue, the flowered _robe-de-chambre_ was there--and vastly becoming,\ntoo, with its braided motifs and downy lining of a contrasting\nhue--but when milor threw off the coverlet with a boyish gesture of\nimpatience, he appeared clad in a daintily frilled day-shirt, breeches\nof fine faced cloth, whilst a pair of white silk stockings covered his\nwell-shaped calves.\n\nTrue, the perruque was still absent, but so was the regulation cotton\nnight-cap; instead of these, milor, with that eccentricity peculiar to\nthe entire British race, wore his own hair slightly powdered and tied\nat the nape of the neck with a wide black silk bow.\n\nMonsieur Achille looked extremely perturbed, and, had his rigorous\nfeatures ventured to show any expression at all, they would\nundoubtedly have displayed one of respectful apology to all the\nhigh-born gentlemen who witnessed this unedifying spectacle. As it\nwas, the face of _Monsieur le valet-de-chambre_ was set in marble-like\nrigidity; perhaps only the slightest suspicion of a sigh escaped his\nlips as he noted milor's complete unconsciousness of the enormity of\nhis offense.\n\nMonsieur le Controleur had been in the very midst of an animated\nargument with Madame de Stainville anent the respective merits of rose\nred and turquoise blue as a foil to a mellow complexion. This argument\nhe had broken off abruptly by calling for his shoes. No wonder Irene\npouted, her pout being singularly becoming.\n\n\"Had I been fortunate enough in pleasing your lordship with my poor\nwit,\" she said, \"you had not been in so great a hurry to rid yourself\nof my company.\"\n\n\"Nay, madame, permit me to explain,\" he protested gently. \"I pray you\ntry and remember that for the last half-hour I have been the happy yet\nfeeble target for the shafts aimed at me by your beauty and your wit.\nNow I always feel singularly helpless without my waistcoat and my\nshoes. I feel like a miserable combatant who, when brought face to\nface with a powerful enemy, hath been prevented from arming himself\nfor the fray.\"\n\n\"But etiquette----\" she protested.\n\n\"Etiquette is a jade, madame,\" he retorted; \"shall not you and I turn\nour backs on her?\"\n\nIn the meantime M. Achille had, with becoming reverence, taken M. le\nControleur's coat and waistcoat in his august hands, and stood there\nholding them with just that awed expression of countenance which a\nvillage cure would wear when handling a reliquary.\n\nWith that same disregard for ceremony which had characterized him all\nalong, Lord Eglinton rescued his waistcoat from those insistent hands,\nand, heedless of Achille's look of horror, he slipped it on and\nbuttoned it himself with quick, dexterous fingers, as if he had never\ndone anything else in all his life.\n\nFor a moment Achille was speechless. For the first time perhaps in the\nhistory of France a Minister of Finance had put his waistcoat on\nhimself, and this under his--Achille's--administration. The very\nfoundations of his belief were tottering before his eyes; desperately\nnow he clung to the coat, ready to fight for its possession and shed\nhis blood if need be for the upkeep of the ancient traditions of the\nland.\n\n\"Will milor take his coat from the hands of Monseigneur le Prince de\nCourtenai--prince of the blood?\" he asked, with a final supreme effort\nfor the reestablishment of those traditions, which were being so\nwantonly flouted.\n\n\"His Majesty will be here directly,\" interposed Irene hastily.\n\n\"His Majesty never comes later than half-past ten,\" protested milor\nfeebly, \"and he has not the vaguest idea how to help a man on with his\ncoat. He has had no experience and I feel that mine would become a\nheap of crumpled misery if his gracious hands were to insinuate it\nover my unworthy shoulders.\"\n\nHe made a desperate effort to gain possession of his coat, but this\ntime M. Achille was obdurate. It seemed as if he would not yield that\ncoat to any one save at the cost of his own life.\n\n\"Then it is the privilege of Monseigneur le Prince de Courtenai,\" he\nsaid firmly.\n\n\"But M. de Courtenai has gone to flirt with my wife!\" ejaculated Lord\nEglinton in despair.\n\n\"In that case no doubt M. le Duc de Luxembourg will claim the\nright----\"\n\n\"_Mais comment donc?_\" said the Duke with great alacrity, as, in spite\nof milor's still continued feeble protests, he took the coat from the\nhands of M. Achille.\n\nM. de Luxembourg was very pompous and very slow, and there was nothing\nthat Lord Eglinton hated worse than what he called amateur valeting.\nBut now there was nothing for it but forbearance and resignation;\npatience, too, of which _le petit Anglais_ had no more than a just\nshare. He gathered the frills of his shirt sleeves in his hands and\ntried not to look as if he wished M. de Luxembourg at the bottom of\nthe nearest pond; but at this very moment Monseigneur le Prince de\nCourtenai, who, it appeared, had not gone to flirt with Madame la\nMarquise, since the latter was very much engaged elsewhere, but had\nmerely been absorbed in political discussions with M. de Vermandois,\nsuddenly realized that one of his numerous privileges was being\nencroached upon.\n\nNot that he had any special desire to help M. le Controleur-General on\nwith his coat, but because he was ever anxious that his proper\nprecedence as quasi prince of the blood should always be fully\nrecognized. So he gave a discreet cough just sufficiently loud to\nattract M. Achille's notice, and to warn M. le Duc de Luxembourg that\nhe was being presumptuous.\n\nWithout another word the coat was transferred from the hands of the\nMarechal to those of the quasi-royal Prince, whilst Eglinton, wearing\nan air of resigned martyrdom, still waited for his coat, the frills of\nhis shirt sleeves gripped tightly in his hands.\n\nMonseigneur advanced. His movements were always sedate, and he felt\npleased that every one who stood close by had noticed that the rank\nand precedence, which were rightfully his, had been duly accorded him,\neven in so small a matter, by no less a personage than M. le\nControleur-General des Finances.\n\nHe now held the coat in perfect position, and Lord Eglinton gave a\nsigh of relief, when suddenly the great doors at the end of the long\nroom were thrown wide open, and the stentorian voices of the royal\nflunkeys announced:\n\n\"Messieurs, Mesdames! His Majesty the King!\"\n\nThe buzz of talk died down, giving place to respectful murmurs. There\nwas a great rustle of silks and brocades, a clink of dress swords\nagainst the parquet floor, as the crowd parted to make way for Louis\nXV. The various groups of political disputants broke up, as if\nscattered by a fairy wand; soon all the butterflies that had hovered\nin the further corners of the room fluttered toward the magic centre.\n\nHere an avenue seemed suddenly to form itself of silken gowns, of\nbrocaded panniers, of gaily embroidered coats, topped by rows of\npowdered perruques that bent very low to the ground as, fat, smiling,\npompous, and not a little bored, His Majesty King Louis XV made slow\nprogress along the full length of the room, leaning lightly on the\narm of the inevitable Marquise de Pompadour, and nodding with great\ncondescension to the perruqued heads as he passed.\n\nNear the window embrasure he met la Marquise d'Eglinton and M. le Duc\nd'Aumont, her father. To Lydie he extended a gracious hand, and\nengaged her in conversation with a few trivial words. This gave Mme.\nde Pompadour the opportunity of darting a quick glance, that implied\nan anxious query, at the Duc d'Aumont, to which he responded with an\nalmost imperceptible shake of the head.\n\nAll the while M. le Controleur-General des Finances was still\nstanding, shirt frills in hand, his face a picture of resigned\ndespair, his eyes longingly fixed on his own coat, which Monseigneur\nde Courtenai no longer held up for him.\n\nIndeed, Monseigneur, a rigid stickler for etiquette himself, would\nnever so far have forgotten what was due to the house of Bourbon as to\nindulge in any pursuit--such as helping a Minister on with his\ncoat--at the moment when His Majesty entered a room.\n\nHe bowed with the rest of them, and thus Louis XV at the end of his\nprogress, found the group around milor's bedside; his cousin de\nCourtenai bowing, Monsieur Achille with his nose almost touching his\nknees, and milor Eglinton in shirt sleeves looking supremely\nuncomfortable, and not a little sheepish.\n\n\"Ah! ce cher milor!\" said the King with charming bonhomie, as he took\nthe situation in at a glance. \"Nay, cousin, I claim an ancient\nprivilege! Monsieur le Controleur-General, have you ever been waited\non by a King of France?\"\n\n\"Never to my knowledge, Sire,\" stammered _le petit Anglais_.\n\nLouis XV was quite delightful to-day; so fresh and boyish in his\nmovements, and with an inimitable _laisser aller_ and friendliness in\nhis manner which caused many pairs of eyes to stare, and many hearts\nto ponder.\n\n\"Let this be an epoch-making experience in your life, then,\" he said\ngaily. \"Is this your coat?\"\n\nAnd without more ado he took that much-travelled garment from\nMonseigneur de Courtenai's hands.\n\nSuch condescension, such easy graciousness had not been witnessed for\nyears! And His Majesty was not overfond of that State-appointed\nMinistry of Finance of which milor was the nominal head.\n\n\"His Majesty must be sorely in need of money!\" was a whispered comment\nwhich ran freely enough round the room.\n\nWithal the King himself seemed quite unconscious of the wave of\ninterest to which his gracious behaviour was giving rise. He was\nholding up the coat, smiling benevolently at M. le Controleur, who\nappeared to be more than usually nervous, and now made no movement\ntoward that much-desired portion of his attire.\n\n\"Allons, milor, I am waiting,\" said King Louis at last.\n\n\"Er--that is,\" murmured Lord Eglinton pitiably, \"could I have my coat\nright side out?\"\n\n\"_Ohe! par ma foi!_\" quoth the King with easy familiarity, \"your\npardon, milor, but 'tis seldom I hold such an article in my hands, and\nI believe, by all the saints in the calendar, that I was holding it\nupside down, wrong side out, sleeves foremost, and collar awry!\"\n\nHe laughed till his fat sides ached, and tears streamed from his eyes;\nthen, amidst discreet murmurs of admiration at so much condescension,\nsuch gracious good humour, the ceremony of putting on M. le\nControleur's coat was at last performed by the King of France, and\nmilor, now fully clothed and apparently much relieved in his mind, was\nable to present his respects to Madame de Pompadour.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nROYAL FAVOURS\n\n\nApparently there was to be no end to royal graciousness this morning,\nas every one who looked could see. Hardly was the coat on M. le\nControleur's shoulders than the King engaged him in conversation,\nwhilst Mme. de Pompadour dropped into the armchair lately vacated by\nMonseigneur de Courtenai. The well-drilled circle of courtiers and\nladies, including la belle Irene herself, retired discreetly. Once\nmore there was a barrier of emptiness and parquet flooring round the\ninner group, now composed of His Majesty, of M. le Controleur-General,\nand of Mme. de Pompadour. Into these sacred precincts no one would\nhave dared to step. Lydie, having paid her respects to His Majesty,\nhad not joined that intimate circle, and it seemed as if Louis XV had\nnoted her absence, and was duly relieved thereat.\n\nAnon M. le Duc d'Aumont approached the King, offering him a chair.\nLouis took it, and in the act of so doing he contrived to whisper four\nquick words in his Prime Minister's ear.\n\n\"Eh bien! Your daughter?\"\n\nLord Eglinton just then was busy trying to find a suitable place\nwhereon to deposit his own insignificant person, and blushing\nviolently because Mme. de Pompadour had laughingly waved her fan in\nthe direction of his monumental bed; M. le Duc, therefore, whilst\nadjusting a cushion behind the King's back, was able to reply\nhurriedly:\n\n\"Impossible, Sire!\"\n\n\"And l'Anglais?\"\n\n\"I have not yet tried.\"\n\n\"Ah! ah! ah!\" laughed Pompadour merrily. \"M. le Controleur-General des\nFinances, are all Englishmen as modest as you?\"\n\n\"I--I don't know, Madame. I don't know very many,\" he replied.\n\n\"Here is M. le Controleur too bashful to sit on the edge of his own\nbed in my presence,\" she continued, still laughing. \"Nay, milor, I'll\nwager that you were reclining on those downy cushions when you were\nflirting with Mme. de Stainville.\"\n\n\"Only under the compulsion of my valet-de-chambre, Madame,\" he\nprotested, \"or I'd have got up hours ago.\"\n\n\"Is he such a tyrant, then?\" asked Louis.\n\n\"Terrible, your Majesty.\"\n\n\"You are afraid of him?\"\n\n\"I tremble at his look.\"\n\n\"Ah! it is well M. le Controleur-General des Finances should tremble\nsometimes, even if only before his valet-de-chambre,\" sighed Louis XV\nwith comic pathos.\n\n\"But, Sire, I tremble very often!\" protested Lord Eglinton.\n\n\"I' faith he speaks truly,\" laughed Mme. de Pompadour, \"since he\ntrembles before his wife.\"\n\n\"And we tremble before M. le Controleur,\" concluded the King gaily.\n\n\"Before me, Sire?\"\n\n\"Aye, indeed, since our Parliaments have made you our dragon.\"\n\n\"A good-tempered, meek sort of dragon, Sire, you'll graciously admit.\"\n\n\"That we will, milor, and gladly!\" said Louis XV, now with somewhat\ntoo exuberant good-humour; \"and you'll not have cause to regret that\nmeekness, for your King hath remained your friend.\"\n\nThen, as Lord Eglinton seemed either too much overcome by the amazing\ncondescension, or too bashful to respond, his Majesty continued more\nsedately:\n\n\"We are about to prove our friendship, milor.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty--finds me--er--quite unprepared--er----\" stammered\nmilor, who in verity appeared distinctly confused, for his eyes roamed\nround the room as if in search of help or support in this interesting\ncrisis.\n\n\"Nay! nay!\" rejoined the King benignly, \"this we understand, milor. It\nis not often the King of France chooses a friend amongst his subjects.\nFor we look upon you as our subject now, M. le Controleur, since we\nhave accepted your oath of allegiance. You have only just enough\nEnglish blood left in your veins to make you doubly loyal and true to\nyour King. Nay! nay! no thanks--we speak as our royal heart moves us.\nJust now we spoke of proofs of our friendship. Milor, tell us frankly,\nare you so very rich?\"\n\nThe question came so abruptly at the end of the sentimental peroration\nthat Lord Eglinton was completely thrown off his balance. He was not\nused to private and intimate conversations with King Louis; his wife\nsaw to all affairs of State, and the present emergency found him\nunprepared.\n\n\"I--I believe so, Sire,\" he stammered.\n\n\"But surely not _so_ rich,\" insisted the King, \"that a million or so\nlivres would come amiss? He!\"?\n\n\"I don't rightly know, Sire; it a little depends.\"\n\n\"On what?\"\n\n\"On the provenance of the million.\"\n\n\"More than one, good milor--two, mayhap,\" said the King exultantly.\n\nThen he drew his chair in somewhat closer. Lord Eglinton had taken\nMme. de Pompadour's advice and was sitting on the edge of the bed. We\nmay presume that that edge was very hard and uncomfortable, for milor\nfidgeted and looked supremely unhappy. Anon the King's knees were\nclose to his own, and Madame's brocaded skirt got entangled with his\nfeet. The buzz of talk in the large room drowned the King's whispers\neffectually, the wide barrier of empty floor was an effectual check on\neavesdropping. Obviously no one would hear what Louis was about to\nconfide to his Minister; he leaned forward and dropped his voice so\nthat Eglinton himself could scarcely hear, and had to bend his head so\nthat he got Louis's hot, excited breath full on the cheek. Being\nGeneral Comptroller of Finance and receiving the confidences of a King\nhad its drawbacks at times.\n\n\"Milor,\" whispered his Majesty, \"'tis a good affair we would propose,\none which we could carry through without your help, but in which we\nwould wish to initiate you, seeing that you are our friend.\"\n\n\"I listen, Sire.\"\n\n\"The Duke of Cumberland--you know him?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"He has quelled the rebellion and humbled the standard of that\narrogant Stuart Pretender.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty's friend--yes,\" said Eglinton innocently.\n\n\"Bah! our friend!\" and Louis XV shrugged his shoulders, whilst Mme. de\nPompadour gave a short contemptuous laugh.\n\n\"Oh! I am sorry! I thought----\" said milor gently. \"I pray your\nMajesty to continue.\"\n\n\"Charles Edward Stuart was no friend to us, milor,\" resumed Louis\ndecisively: \"observe, I pray you, the trouble which he hath brought\nabout our ears. We had had peace with England ere now, but for that\naccursed adventurer and his pretensions; and now that he has come to\ndisaster and ruin----\"\n\n\"I understand,\" said Eglinton, with a little sigh of sympathy. \"It is\nindeed awkward for your Majesty; the solemn promise you gave him----\"\n\n\"Bah, man! prate not to me of promises,\" interrupted Louis irritably.\n\"I promised him nothing; he knows that well enough--the young fool!\"\n\n\"Do not let us think of him, Sire; it seems to upset your Majesty.\"\n\n\"It does, milor, it does; for even my worst enemies concede that Louis\nthe Well-beloved is a creature of sympathy.\"\n\n\"A heart of gold, Sire--a heart of gold--er--shall we join the\nladies?\"\n\n\"Milor,\" said the King abruptly, putting a firm hand on Eglinton's\nwrist, \"we must not allow that young fool to thwart the external\npolitics of France any longer. The Duke of Cumberland, though our own\nenemy on the field of battle, has shown that England trusts in our\nhonour and loyalty even in the midst of war, but she wants a proof\nfrom us.\"\n\n\"Oh, let us give it, Sire, by all means. Prince Charles Edward\nStuart----\"\n\n\"Exactly, milor,\" said Louis XV quietly; \"that is the proof which\nEngland wants.\"\n\n\"I am afraid I don't quite understand,\" said Lord Eglinton, a little\nbewildered. \"You see, I am very stupid; and--and perhaps my wife----\"\n\nThen, as King Louis gave a sharp ejaculation of impatience, Mme. de\nPompadour broke in, in tones which she knew how to render velvety and\nsoothing to the ear, whilst her delicate fingers rested lightly on M.\nle Controleur's hand.\n\n\"It is quite simple, milor,\" she whispered just as confidentially as\nthe King had done. \"This Charles Edward Stuart is a perpetual worry to\nEngland. His Grace, the Duke of Cumberland has been accused of\nunnecessary cruelty because he has been forced to take severe measures\nfor the suppression of that spirit of rebellion, which is only being\nfostered in Scotland because of that young Pretender's perpetual\npresence there. He fans smouldering revolt into flame, he incites\npassions, and creates misguided enthusiasms which lead to endless\ntrouble to all!\"\n\nThen as she paused, somewhat breathless and eager, her bright\nmyosotis- eyes anxiously scanning his face he said mildly:\n\n\"How beautifully you put things, Mme. la Marquise. I vow I have never\nheard such a perfect flood of eloquence.\"\n\n\"'Tis not a matter of Madame's eloquence,\" interposed Louis, with\nimpatience, \"though she hath grasped the subject with marvellous\nclearness of judgment.\"\n\n\"Then 'tis a matter of what, Sire?\"\n\n\"The Duke of Cumberland has appealed to our loyalty. Though we are at\nwar with England we bear no animus toward her reigning house, and have\nno wish to see King George's crown snatched from him by that beardless\nyoung adventurer, who has no more right to the throne of England than\nyou, milor, to that of France.\"\n\n\"And his Grace of Cumberland has asked his Majesty's help,\" added Mme.\nde Pompadour.\n\n\"How strange! Just as Prince Charles Edward himself hath done.\"\n\n\"The Duke of Cumberland desires the person of the Pretender,\" she\nsaid, without heeding the interruption, \"so that he may no longer\nincite misguided enthusiasts to rebellion, and cease to plunge\nScotland and England into the throes of civil war.\"\n\n\"His Grace asks but little, methinks!\" said Lord Eglinton slowly.\n\n\"Oh, England is always ready to pay for what she wants,\" said the\nMarquise.\n\n\"And on this occasion?\" asked milor mildly.\n\n\"His Grace hath offered us, as man to man, fifteen millions livres for\nthe person of the Pretender,\" said the King, with sudden decision, and\nlooking M. le Controleur straight in the face.\n\n\"Ah! as man to man?\"\n\nLouis XV and Mme. la Marquise de Pompadour both drew a quick sigh of\nrelief. M. le Controleur had taken the proposal with perfect quietude.\nHe had not seemed startled, and his kindly face expressed nothing but\ngentle amazement, very natural under the circumstances, whilst his\nvoice--even and placid as usual--was not above a whisper.\n\n\"As man to man,\" he repeated, and nodded his head several times, as if\npondering over the meaning of this phrase.\n\nHow extremely fortunate! Milor had raised no objection! What a pity to\nhave wasted quite so much thought, anxiety, and a wealth of eloquence\nover a matter which was so easily disposed of! Jeanne de Pompadour\ngave her royal patron an encouraging nod.\n\nThere was a world of wisdom in that nod and in the look which\naccompanied it. \"He takes it so easily,\" that look seemed to say; \"he\nthinks it quite natural. We must have his help, since we do not know\nwhere the fugitive Prince is in hiding. This little milor alone can\ntell us that, and give us a token by which Charles Edward would\ntrustingly fall into the little ambush which we have prepared for him.\nBut he thinks the affair quite simple. We need not offer him quite so\nlarge a share in the pleasant millions as we originally had intended.\"\n\nAll this and more Mme. de Pompadour's nod conveyed to the mind of\nLouis the Well-beloved, and he too nodded in response before he\ncontinued, speaking now more casually, in a calmer, more business-like\ntone.\n\n\"'Tis a fair offer,\" he said at last; \"though the affair will not be\nquite so easy to conduct as his Grace supposes. He suggests our\nsending a ship to the coast of Scotland to meet the young adventurer\nand his friends, take them on board and convey them to an English\nport, where they will be handed over to the proper authorities. 'Tis\nfairly simple, methinks.\"\n\n\"Remarkably simple, your Majesty.\"\n\n\"Of course, we need a little help from you, milor. Oh, nothing\nmuch--advice as to the spot where our good ship will be most like to\nfind Charles Edward Stuart--a token which if shown to that young\nfirebrand will induce him to trust its bearer, and come on board\nhimself with at least some of his friends. You follow me, milor?\"\n\nThe question seemed necessary, for Lord Eglinton's face wore such a\nlook of indifference as to astonish even the King, who had been\nprepared for some measure of protest, at any rate from this man who\nwas being asked to betray his friend. Although Louis was at this\nperiod of his life quite deaf to every call of honour and loyalty\nthrough that constant, ever-present and exasperating want of money for\nthe satisfaction of his extravagant caprices, nevertheless, there was\nBourbon blood in him, and this cried out loudly now, that he was\nsuggesting--nay, more, contemplating--a deed which would have put any\nof his subjects to shame, and which would have caused some of his most\nunscrupulous ancestors in mediaeval times to writhe with humiliation in\ntheir graves. Therefore he had expected loud protest from Lord\nEglinton, arguments more or less easy to combat, indignation of\ncourse; but this ready acceptance of this ignoble bargain--so strange\nis human nature!--for the moment quite horrified Louis. Milor took the\nselling of his friend as calmly as he would that of a horse.\n\n\"You follow me, milor?\" reiterated the King.\n\n\"Yes, yes, Sire,\" replied Eglinton readily enough. \"I follow you.\"\n\n\"You understand the service we ask of you?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I understand.\"\n\n\"For these services, milor, you shall be amply rewarded. We would\ndeem one million livres a fair amount to fall to your share.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty is generous,\" said Eglinton quite passively.\n\n\"We are just, milor,\" said the King, with a sigh of satisfaction.\n\nM. le Controleur seemed satisfied, and there was little else to say.\nLouis XV began to regret that he had offered him quite so much.\nApparently five hundred thousand would have been enough.\n\n\"Then we'll call that settled,\" concluded his Majesty, pushing back\nhis chair preparatory to ending this conversation, which he had so\ndreaded and which had turned out so highly satisfactory. Pity about\nthat million livres, of course! five hundred thousand might have done,\ncertainly seven! Nathless, M. le Controleur's private fortune was not\nso large as popular rumour had it, or did Mme. Lydie actually hold the\npurse strings?\n\n\"_C'est entendu_, milor,\" repeated Louis once more. \"We will see to\ncommissioning the ship and to her secret orders. As you see, there is\nno risk--and we shall be glad to be in the good graces of M. le Duc de\nCumberland. To oblige an enemy, eh, milor? an act of peace and\ngood-will in the midst of war. Chivalry, what?--worthy of our ancestor\nHenri of Navarre! Methinks it will make history.\"\n\n\"I think so, too, Sire,\" said Eglinton, with obvious conviction.\n\n\"Ah! then we'll see to the completion of the affair; we--the King and\nM. le Duc d'Aumont. You are lucky, milor, your share of the work is so\nsimple; as soon as the ship is ready to sail we'll call on you for the\nnecessary instructions. Par ma foi! 'tis a fine business for us all,\nmilor; one million in your pocket for a word and a token, the residue\nof the fifteen millions in our royal coffers, and the thanks of his\nGrace of Cumberland to boot, not to mention the moral satisfaction of\nhaving helped to quell an unpleasant rebellion, and of placing one's\nenemy under lasting obligation. All for the good of France!\"\n\nLouis the Well-beloved had risen; he was more than contented; an\nunctuous smile, a beaming graciousness of expression pervaded his\nentire countenance. He groped in the wide pocket of his coat, bringing\nforth a letter which bore a large red seal.\n\n\"His Grace's letter, milor,\" he said with final supreme condescension,\nand holding the document out to M. le Controleur, who took it without\na word. \"Do you glance through it, and see that we have not been\nmistaken, that the whole thing is clear, straightforward and----\"\n\n\"And a damned, accursed, dirty piece of business, Sire!\"\n\nIt was undoubtedly Lord Eglinton who had spoken, for his right hand,\nas if in response to his thoughts, was even now crushing the paper\nwhich it held, whilst the left was raised preparatory to tearing the\ninfamous proposal to pieces. Yes, it had been milor's even, gentle\nvoice which had uttered this sudden decisive condemnation in the same\nimpassive tones, and still scarce audible even to these two people\nnear him, without passion, without tremor, seemingly without emotion.\nJust a statement of an undisputable fact, a personal opinion in answer\nto a question put to him.\n\nLouis, completely thrown off his balance, stared at milor as if he had\nbeen suddenly shaken out of a dream; for the moment he thought that\nhis ears must have played him a trick, that he must have misunderstood\nthe words so calmly uttered; instinctively his hand sought the\nsupport of the chair which he had just vacated. It seemed as if he\nneeded a solid, a materialistic prop, else his body would have reeled\nas his brain was doing now. Mme. de Pompadour, too, had jumped to her\nfeet, pushing her chair away with an angry, impatient movement. The\ndisappointment was so keen and sudden, coming just at the moment when\ntriumph seemed so complete. But whilst Louis stared somewhat blankly,\nat M. le Controleur, she, the woman, flashed rage, contempt, vengeance\nupon him.\n\nHe had tricked and fooled her, her as well as the King, leading them\non to believe that he approved, the better to laugh at them both in\nhis sleeve.\n\nThe contemptible, arrogant wretch!\n\nHe was still half sitting, half leaning against the edge of his bed,\nand staring straight out before him through the big bay window which\ngave on to the park, passively, gently, as if the matter had ceased to\nconcern him, as if he were quite unconscious of the enormity of his\naction.\n\n\"A--a damned--what?--accursed!--what?----\" stammered the King; \"but,\nmilor----\"\n\n\"Nay, Sire, I pray you!\" broke in a grave voice suddenly; \"my lord\nseems to have angered your Majesty. Will you deign to explain?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nDIPLOMACY\n\n\nThe buzz of talk was going on as loudly and incessantly as before. The\nwhispered conversation around M. le Controleur's bedside had excited\nno violent curiosity. The first surprise occasioned by His Majesty's\nunparalleled condescension soon gave way to indifference; it was\nobvious that the King's assiduity beside the Minister of Finance was\nsolely due to a more than normal desire for money, and these royal\ndemands for renewed funds were too numerous to cause more than passing\ninterest.\n\nEavesdropping was impossible without gross disrespect, the latter far\nmore unpardonable than the most insatiable curiosity. Lydie alone,\nprivileged above all, had apparently not heeded the barrier which\nisolated Louis XV, Pompadour and milor from the rest of the vast\napartment, for she now stood at the foot of the bed--a graceful,\nimposing figure dressed in somewhat conventual gray, with one hand\nresting on the delicate panelling, her grave, luminous eyes fixed on\nthe King's face.\n\nLouis shook himself free from the stupor in which milor's unexpected\nwords had plunged him. Surprise yielded now to vexation. Lydie's\nappearance, her interference in this matter, would be the final\ndeath-blow to his hopes. Those tantalizing millions had dangled close\nbefore his eyes, his royal hands had almost grasped them, his ears\nheard their delicious clink; milor's original attitude had brought\nthem seemingly within his grasp. Now everything was changed. The whole\naffair would have to be argued out again at full length, and though\n_le petit Anglais_ might prove amenable, Mme. Lydie was sure to be\nobdurate.\n\nLouis XV scowled at the picture of youth and beauty presented by that\nelegant figure in dove-gray silk, with the proud head carried high,\nthe unconscious look of power and of strength in the large gray eyes,\nso grave and so fixed. In his mind there had already flashed the\nthought that milor's sudden change of attitude--for it was a change,\nof that his Majesty had no doubt--was due to a subtle sense of fear\nwhich had made him conscious of his wife's presence, although from her\nposition and his own he could not possibly have seen her approach.\n\nThis made him still more vexed with Lydie, and as she seemed calmly to\nbe waiting for an explanation, he replied quite gruffly:\n\n\"Nay, madame, you mistake; I assure you milor and ourselves are\nperfectly at one--we were so until a few moments ago.\"\n\n\"Until I came,\" she said quietly. \"I am glad of that, for 'twill be\neasy enough, I hope, to convince your Majesty that my presence can\nhave made no difference to M. le Controleur's attitude of deep\nrespect.\"\n\n\"Pardi, we hope not!\" interposed Mme. de Pompadour acidly; \"but we\nhope milor hath found his tongue at last and will do the convincing\nhimself.\"\n\nBut Louis XV was not prepared to reopen the discussion in the presence\nof Mme. Lydie. He knew, quite as well as M. le Duc d'Aumont himself,\nthat she would have nothing but contempt and horror for that infamous\nproposal, which he was more determined than ever to accept.\n\nIt was tiresome of course not to have the cooperation of Lord\nEglinton; that weak fool now would, no doubt, be overruled by his\nwife. At the same time--and Louis hugged the thought as it sprang to\nhis mind--there were other ways of obtaining possession of Charles\nEdward Stuart's person than the direct one which he had proposed to\nmilor just now. The young Pretender was bound sooner or later to leave\nthe shores of Scotland. Unbeknown to King Louis a ship might be sent\nby private friends to rescue the fugitive, but that ship could be\nintercepted on her way home, and, after all, Charles Edward was bound\nto land in France some day!--and then----\n\nAnd there were other means besides of earning the tempting millions.\nBut these would have to be thought out, planned and arranged; they\nwould be difficult and not nearly so expeditious, which was a drawback\nwhen royal coffers were clamouring to be filled. Still, it would be\ndistinctly unadvisable to broach the subject with Mme. la Marquise\nd'Eglinton, and unnecessarily humiliating, since a rebuff was sure to\nbe the result.\n\nTherefore, when--as if in placid defiance of Pompadour's\nchallenge--Lord Eglinton handed the Duke of Cumberland's letter\nsilently back to the King, the latter slipped it into his pocket with\na gesture of ostentatious indifference.\n\n\"Nay! we need not trouble Mme. la Marquise with the discussion now,\"\nhe said; \"she is unacquainted with the subject of our present\nconversation, and it would be tedious to reiterate.\"\n\n\"I crave your pardon, Sire,\" rejoined Lydie, \"if I have transgressed,\nbut my zeal in the service of France and in that of your Majesty has\nrendered my senses preternaturally acute. My eyes see in the gloom, my\nears hear across vast spaces.\"\n\n\"In a word, Mme. la Marquise has been listening!\" said Pompadour, with\na sneer.\n\n\"I did not listen,\" said Lydie quietly. \"I only heard.\"\n\n\"Then you know?\" said Louis, with well-assumed indifference.\n\n\"Oh, yes!\"\n\nShe smiled at him as she replied. This was apparently a day of\nsurprises, for the smile seemed distinctly encouraging.\n\n\"And--and what do you say?\" asked his Majesty somewhat anxiously, yet\nemboldened by that encouraging smile.\n\nOf a truth! was he about to find an ally there, where he expected most\nbitter opposition?\n\n\"Meseems that milor was somewhat hasty,\" replied Lydie quietly.\n\n\"Ah!\"\n\nIt was a sigh of intense, deep, heartfelt, satisfaction breathed by\nLouis the Well-beloved, and unrestrainedly echoed by Mme. de\nPompadour.\n\n\"This proposal, Sire,\" continued Lydie; \"'tis from England, I\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"From his Grace of Cumberland himself, Madame,\" assented the King,\nonce more drawing the letter from out his pocket.\n\n\"May I be permitted to see it?\" she asked.\n\nFor a moment Louis hesitated, then he gave her the letter. There was\nno risk in this, since she practically owned to knowing its contents.\n\nAnd the whole affair would be so much easier, so much more expeditious\nwith the cooperation of the Eglintons.\n\nLydie read the letter through, seemingly deeply engrossed in its\ncontents. She never once raised her eyes to see how she was being\nwatched. She knew quite well that the King's eyes were fixed eagerly\nupon her face, that Pompadour's cupidity and greed for the proposed\nmillions were plainly writ upon her face. But she had not once looked\nat her husband. She did not look at him now. He had not spoken since\nthat sudden burst of indignation, when his slender hand crushed the\ninfamous document which she now studied so carefully, crushed it and\nwould have torn it to ribbons in loathing and contempt.\n\nWhen first she interposed he had turned and faced her. Since then she\nknew that his eyes had remained fixed on her face. She felt the gaze,\nyet cared not to return it. He was too weak, too simple to understand,\nand of her own actions she would be sole mistress; that had been the\nchief clause in the contract when she placed her hand in his.\n\nHer intuitive knowledge of this Court in which she moved, her\nsuspicions of this feeble monarch, whose extravagant caprices had led\nhim to deeds at which in his earlier days he had been the first to\nblush, her dread of intrigues and treachery, all had whispered in her\near the word of prudence--\"Temporize.\"\n\nThe whole infamous plan had been revealed to her through those same\nsupernaturally keen senses, which her strong domineering nature had\ncoerced, until they became the slaves of her will. Mingling with the\ncrowd, her graceful body present in the chattering throng, her mind\nhad remained fixed on that group beside the bed. She had noticed the\nKing's expression of face when he engaged milor in conversation, his\nextraordinary _bonhomie_, his confidential attitude, his whispers, all\nbacked and seconded by Pompadour. Gradually she manoeuvred and, still\nforming a unit with the rest of the crowd, she had by degrees drawn\nnearer and nearer, until she saw her husband's movement, his almost\nimperceptible change of expression, as he clutched the letter which\nwas handed him by the King.\n\nThen she boldly entered the inner precincts; being privileged, she\ncould do even that, without creating attention. Milor's words of\ncontempt, the royal arms of England on the seal of the letter, coupled\nwith her father's attitude with her just now, and his veiled\nsuggestions, told her all she wanted to know. And quick as flashes of\nsummer lightning her woman's intuition whispered words of wisdom in\nher ear.\n\n\"Know everything first--then temporize! Diplomacy will do more than\ndefiance.\"\n\nHaving read the letter through, she of course knew all. It was simple\nenough--a monstrous proposal which the King of France was ready to\nadopt. She felt real physical nausea at contact with so much infamy.\n\nBut she folded the document neatly and carefully, then looked quietly\nat the King.\n\n\"The Duke of Cumberland is generous,\" she said, forcing herself to\nsmile.\n\n\"Heu, heu!\" assented Louis lightly, with a return of his wonted\n_bonhomie_. Matters were shaping themselves to a truly satisfactory\nend.\n\n\"Do I understand that your Majesty would desire us to accept his\nGrace's proposal?\"\n\n\"What think you yourself, Madame?\"\n\n\"It is worth considering,\" she mused.\n\n\"Parbleu! And you are a true woman!\" exclaimed Louis XV, beaming with\ndelight. \"Full of wisdom as a statesman should be. To think that we\ncould ever have mistrusted so clear a head and so sound a judgment.\"\n\n\"Your Majesty, I hope, will always remember that my sole desire is to\nserve France and her King!\"\n\n\"Par ma foi! We'll not forget your help in this, Madame,\" he exclaimed\nwhole-heartedly. \"Then we may rely on your help?\"\n\n\"What does your Majesty desire me to do?\"\n\nHe came quite close to her, and she forced herself not to draw back\none inch. For the sake of the fugitive prince and his friends, who had\ntrusted in the honour of France; for the sake of that honour which, in\nher peculiar position, was as dear to her as her own, she would not\nflinch now; she would show no repulsion, no fear, though her whole\nbeing rose in revolt at contact with this man.\n\nA man, not a king! Par Dieu, not a King of France!\n\nHis face to her looked hideous, the eyes seemed to leer, and there was\nlust for money, and ignoble treachery writ on every feature.\n\n\"We have explained it all to milor,\" whispered Louis under his breath;\n\"a ship to be commissioned and sent to meet the Stuart. She will have\nsecret orders--no one shall know but her captain--and he will be a man\nwhom we can trust--a man whom we shall have to pay--you understand?\"\n\n\"I understand.\"\n\n\"Then from you we want to know the place in Scotland where we will\nfind Charles Edward--eh? And also a token--a ring, a word perhaps, by\nwhich that young adventurer will be made to trust his own person and\nthat of his friends to our good ship. It is very simple, you see.\"\n\n\"Quite simple, your Majesty.\"\n\n\"The ship's orders will be that once the Stuart and his faction are on\nboard, she shall make straight for the first English\nport--and--and--that is all!\" he added complacently.\n\n\"Yes, that is all, your Majesty.\"\n\n\"And on the day that Charles Edward Stuart is handed over to the\nEnglish authorities, there will be fifteen millions for your King,\nMadame, and a million livres pin money for the most able statesman in\nEurope.\"\n\nAnd with consummate gallantry, Louis bowed very low and took her hand\nin his. It rested cold and inert between his hot fingers, but he was\nfar too eager, far too triumphant to notice anything beyond the fact\nthat he had succeeded in enlisting the help of Lydie d'Eglinton,\nwithout whom his project was bound to have been considerably delayed,\nif not completely frustrated. He had indeed not wasted this glorious\nmorning.\n\n\"I am eternally your debtor, Madame!\" he said gaily; \"and 'tis well,\nbelieve me, to serve the King of France.\"\n\n\"I have done nothing as yet, Sire,\" she rejoined.\n\n\"Nay, but you will,\" he said confidently.\n\nShe bowed her head and he interpreted the movement according to his\nwill. But he was impatient, longing to see this matter finally settled\nto his entire satisfaction.\n\n\"Will you not give me a definite answer now?\"\n\n\"In the midst of so much chatter, Sire?\" she said, forcing herself to\nsmile gaily. \"Nay, but 'tis a serious matter--and I must consult with\nmy father.\"\n\nLouis smiled contentedly. M. le Duc d'Aumont was at one with him in\nthis. The letter had been originally sent to the Prime Minister, and\nthe Duke, who was weak, who was a slave to the Bourbon dynasty, and\nwho, alas! was also tainted with that horrible canker which was\ngradually affecting the whole of the aristocracy of France, the\ninsatiable greed for money, had been bribed to agree with the King.\n\nTherefore Louis was content. It was as well that Lydie should speak\nwith the Duke. The worthy D'Aumont would dissipate her last lingering\nscruples.\n\n\"And your husband?\" he added, casting a quick glance over his shoulder\nat milor, and smiling with good-natured sarcasm.\n\n\"Oh, my husband will think as I do,\" she replied evasively.\n\nAt thought of her father and the King's complacent smile, Lydie had\nwinced. For a moment her outward calm threatened to forsake her. She\nfelt as if she could not keep up this hideous comedy any longer. She\nwould have screamed aloud with horror or contempt, aye! and deep\nsorrow, too, to think that her father wallowed in this mire.\n\nShe too cast a quick glance at milor. His eyes were no longer fixed on\nher face. He stood quietly beside Madame de Pompadour, who, leaving\nthe King to settle with Lydie, had engaged Lord Eglinton in frivolous\nconversation. He was quite placid again, and in his face, gentle and\ndiffident as usual, there was no longer the faintest trace of that\nsudden outburst of withering contempt.\n\nThe Duke of Cumberland's letter was still in her hand. It seemed to\nscorch her fingers with its loathsome pollution. But she clung to it,\nand after a violent effort at self control, she contrived to look\nLouis straight in the face and to give him a reassuring smile, as she\nslipped the letter into the bosom of her gown.\n\n\"I will consult with my father, Sire,\" she repeated, \"and will read\nthe letter when I am alone and undisturbed.\"\n\n\"And you will give me a final answer?\"\n\n\"The day after to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Why not sooner?\" he urged impatiently.\n\n\"The day after to-morrow,\" she reiterated with a smile. \"I have much\nto think about, and--the only token which Charles Edward would trust\nwithout demur must come from Lord Eglinton.\"\n\n\"I understand,\" said the King knowingly. \"Par ma foi! But we shall\nwant patience. Two whole days! In the meanwhile we'll busy ourselves\nwith preparations for the expedition. We had thought of _Le Monarque_.\nWhat say you?\"\n\n\"_Le Levantin_ would be swifter.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes! _Le Levantin_--and we can trust her captain. He is under\ndeep obligation to Madame de Pompadour. And M. de Lugeac, Madame's\nnephew, you know--we had thought of him to carry the secret orders to\nBrest to the captain of _Le Levantin_ directly she is ready to sail.\nMethinks we could trust him. His interests are bound up with ours. And\nthere is another, too; but more of that anon. The secret orders will\nbear our own royal signature, and you might place them yourself, with\nthe token, in our chosen messenger's hands.\"\n\nOnce more he gave her a gracious nod, and she curtseyed with all the\ndeference, all the formality which the elaborate etiquette of the\ntime demanded. Louis looked at her long and searchingly, but\napparently there was nothing in the calm, serene face to disturb his\npresent mood of complacent satisfaction. He put out his podgy hand to\nher; the short, thick fingers were covered with rings up to their\nfirst joint, and Lydie contrived to kiss the large signet--an emblem\nof that kingship to which she was true and loyal--without letting her\nlips come in contact with his flesh.\n\nWhat happened during the next ten minutes she could not afterward have\nsaid. Her whole mind was in a turmoil of thought, and every time the\ninfamous letter crackled beneath her corselet, she shuddered as with\nfear. Quite mechanically she saw the King's departure, and apparently\nshe acted with perfect decorum and correctness. Equally, mechanically\nshe saw the chattering throng gradually disperse. The vast room became\nmore and more empty, the buzz less and less loud. She saw milor as\nthrough a mist, mostly with back bent, receiving the _adieux_ of\nsycophants; she heard various murmurs in her own ears, mostly requests\nthat she should remember and be ready to give, or at least to promise.\nShe saw the procession of courtiers, of flatterers, of friends and\nenemies pass slowly before her; in the midst of them she vaguely\ndistinguished Mme. de Stainville's brightly gown.\n\nLa belle Irene lingered a long time beside milor. She was one of the\nlast to leave, and though Lydie forced herself not to look in that\ndirection, she could not help hearing the other woman's irritating\ngiggle, and Lord Eglinton's even, pleasant voice framing compliments,\nthat pandered to that brainless doll's insatiable vanity.\n\nAnd this when he knew that his friend was about to be betrayed.\n\nThe taint! The horror! The pollution of it all!\n\nFortunately she had not seen her father, for her fortitude might have\nbroken down if she read that same awful thought of treachery in his\nface that had so disgusted her when Louis stood beside her.\n\nThe last of that senseless, indifferent crowd had gone. The vast room\nwas empty. Milor had accompanied Mme. de Stainville as far as the\ndoor. The murmur of talk and laughter came now only as a faint and\nlingering echo. Anon it died away in the distant corridors.\n\nLydie shivered as if with cold.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nSTRANGERS\n\n\nAnd now she was alone.\n\nTorpor had left her; even that intensity of loathing had gone, which\nfor the past half-hour had numbed her very senses and caused her to\nmove and speak like an irresponsible automaton. She felt as if she had\nindeed seen and touched a filthy, evil reptile, but that for the\nmoment it had gone out of her sight. Presently it would creep out of\nits lair again, but by that time she would be prepared.\n\nShe must be prepared; therefore she no longer shuddered at the horror\nof it, but called her wits to her aid, her cool judgment and habitual\nquick mode of action, to combat the monster and render it powerless.\n\nShe knew of course that the King would not allow himself to be put off\nwith vague promises. Within the two days' delay which she had asked of\nhim he would begin to realize that she had only meant to temporise,\nand never had any intention of helping him in his nefarious schemes.\nThen he would begin to act for himself.\n\nHaving understood that she meant to circumvent him if she could, he\nwas quite shrewd enough to devise some means of preventing those\ntempting millions from eluding his grasp. Though he did not know at\nthe present moment where or how to lay his hands on Prince Charles\nEdward and his friends, he knew that they would of necessity seek the\nloneliness of the west coast of Scotland.\n\nVaguely that particular shore had always been spoken of in connection\nwith any expedition for the succour of the unfortunate prince, and\nalthough the commissioning of ships was under the direct\nadministration of the Comptrolleur-General of Finance, Louis, with the\nprospective millions dangling before him, could easily enough equip\n_Le Levantin_, and send her on a searching expedition without having\nrecourse to State funds; whilst it was more than likely that Charles\nEdward, wearied of waiting, and in hourly fear of detection and\ncapture, would be quite ready to trust himself and his friends to any\nFrench ship that happened to come on his track, whether her captain\nbrought him a token from his friend or not.\n\nAll this and more would occur to King Louis, of course, in the event\nof her finally refusing him cooperation, or trying to put him off\nlonger than a few days. Just as she had thought it all out, visualized\nhis mind, as it were, so these various plans would present themselves\nto him sooner of later. It was a great thing to have gained two days.\nForty-eight hours' start of that ignoble scheme would, she hoped,\nenable her to counteract it yet.\n\nSo much for King Louis and his probable schemes! Now her own plans.\n\nTo circumvent this awful treachery, to forestall it, that of course\nhad become her task, and it should not be so difficult, given that two\ndays' start and some one whom she could trust.\n\nPlans now became a little clearer in her head; they seemed gradually\nto disentangle themselves from a maze of irrelevant thoughts.\n\n_Le Monarque_ was ready to start at any moment. Captain Barre, her\ncommander, was the soul of honour. A messenger swift and sure and\ntrustworthy must ride to Le Havre forthwith with orders to the captain\nto set sail at once, to reach that lonely spot on the west coast of\nScotland known only to herself and to her husband, where Charles\nEdward Stuart and his friends were even now waiting for succour.\n\nThe signet-ring--Lord Eglinton's--entrusted to Captain Barre should\nensure the fugitives' immediate confidence. There need be no delay,\nand with favourable wind and weather _Le Monarque_ should have the\nPrince and his friends on board her before _Le Levantin_ had been got\nready to start.\n\nThen _Le Monarque_ should not return home direct; she should skirt the\nIrish coast and make for Brittany by a circuitous route; a grave delay\nperhaps, but still the risks of being intercepted must be minimised at\nall costs.\n\nA lonely village inland would afford shelter to the Young Pretender\nand his adherents for a while, until arrangements could be made for\nthe final stage of their journey into safety--Austria, Spain, or any\ncountry in fact where Louis' treachery could not overtake them.\n\nIt was a big comprehensive scheme, of course; one which must be\ncarried to its completion in defiance of King Louis. It was never good\nto incur the wrath of a Bourbon, and, unless the nation and the\nparliaments ranged themselves unequivocally on her side, it would\nprobably mean the sudden ending of her own and her husband's career,\nthe finality of all her dreams. But to this she hardly gave a\nthought.\n\nThe project itself was not difficult of execution, provided she had\nthe cooperation of a man whom she could absolutely trust. This was the\nmost important detail in connection with her plans, and it alone could\nensure their success.\n\nHer ally, whoever he might be, would have to start this very afternoon\nfor Le Havre, taking with him the orders for Captain Barre and the\nsignet ring which she would give him.\n\nThere were one hundred and fifty leagues between Versailles and Le\nHavre as the crow flies, and Lydie was fully aware of the measure of\nstrength and endurance which a forced ride across country and without\ndrawing rein would entail.\n\nIt would mean long gallops at breakneck speed, whilst slowly the\nsummer's day yielded to the embrace of evening, and anon the glowing\ndusk paled and swooned into the arms of night. It would mean a swift\nand secret start at the hour when the scorching afternoon sun had not\nyet lifted its numbing weight from the journeyman's limbs and still\nlulled the brain of the student to drowsiness and the siesta; the hour\nwhen the luxurious idler was just waking from sleep, and the labourer\nout in the field stretched himself after the noonday rest.\n\nIt would mean above all youth and enthusiasm; for Le Havre must be\nreached ere the rising sun brought the first blush of dawn on cliffs,\nand crags, and sea; _Le Monarque_ must set sail for Scotland ere\nFrance woke from her sleep.\n\nTwelve hours in the saddle, a good mount, the strength of a young\nbullock, and the astuteness of a fox!\n\nLydie still sat in the window embrasure, her eyes closed, her graceful\nhead with its wealth of chestnut hair resting against the delicate\n cushions of her chair, her perfectly modelled arms bared to\nthe elbow lying listlessly in her lap, one hand holding the infamous\nletter, written by the Duke of Cumberland to King Louis. She herself a\npicture of thoughtful repose, statuesque and cool.\n\nIt was characteristic of her whole personality that she sat thus quite\ncalmly, thinking out the details of her plan, apparently neither\nflustered nor excited. The excitement was within, the desire to be up\nand doing, but she would have despised herself if she had been unable\nto conquer the outward expressions of her agitation, the longing to\nwalk up and down, to tear up that ignoble letter, or to smash some\ninoffensive article that happened to be lying by.\n\nHer thoughts then could not have been so clear. She could not have\nvisualized the immediate future; the departure of _Le Monarque_ at\ndawn--Captain Barre receiving the signet-ring--that breakneck ride to\nLe Havre.\n\nThen gradually from out the rest of the picture one figure detached\nitself from her mind--her husband.\n\n\"Le petit Anglais,\" the friend of Charles Edward Stuart; weak,\nluxurious, tactless, but surely loyal.\n\nLydie half smiled when the thought first took shape. She knew so\nlittle of her husband. Just now, when she heard him condemn the King's\ntreacherous proposals with such unequivocal words of contempt, she had\nhalf despised him for this blundering want of diplomatic art. Manlike\nhe had been unable to disguise his loathing for Louis' perfidy, and by\ntrying to proclaim his loyalty to his friend, all but precipitated\nthe catastrophe that would have delivered Charles Edward Stuart into\nthe hands of the English. But for Lydie's timely interference the\nKing, angered and huffed, would have departed then and there and\nmatured his own schemes before anything could be done to foil them.\n\nBut with her feeling of good-natured disdain, there had even then\nmingled a sensation of trust; this she recalled now when her mind went\nin search of the man in whom she could confide. She would in any case\nhave to ask her husband for the token agreed on between him and the\nStuart Prince, and also for final directions as to the exact spot\nwhere the fugitives would be most surely found by Captain Barre.\n\nThen why should he not himself take both to Le Havre?\n\nAgain she smiled at the thought. The idea had occurred to her that she\ndid not even know if milor could ride. And if perchance he did sit a\nhorse well, had he the physical strength, the necessary endurance, for\nthat flight across country, without a halt, with scarce a morsel of\nfood on the way?\n\nShe knew so little about him. Their lives had been spent apart. One\nbrief year of wedded life, and they were more strange to one another\nthan even they had been before their marriage. He no doubt thought her\nhard and unfeminine, she of a truth deemed him weak and unmanly.\n\nStill there was no one else, and with her usual determination she\nforced her well-schooled mind to dismiss all those thoughts of her\nhusband which were disparaging to him. She tried not to see him as she\nhad done a little while ago, giving himself over so readily to the\nartificial life of this Court of Versailles and its enervating\netiquette, yielding to the whispered flatteries of Irene de\nStainville, pandering to her vanity, admiring her femininity no doubt\nin direct contrast to his wife's more robust individuality.\n\nAfterward, whenever she thought the whole matter over, she never could\ndescribe accurately the succession of events just as they occurred on\nthat morning. She seemed after a while to have roused herself from her\nmeditations, having fully made up her mind to carry her project\nthrough from beginning to end, and with that infamous letter still in\nher hand she rose from her chair and walked across the vast audience\nchamber, with the intention of going to her own study, there to think\nout quietly the final details of her plans.\n\nHer mind was of course intent on the Stuart Prince and his friends: on\n_Le Monarque_ and Captain Barre, and also very much now on her\nhusband; but she could never recollect subsequently at what precise\nmoment the actual voice of Lord Eglinton became mingled with her\nthoughts of him.\n\nCertain it is that, when in crossing the room she passed close to the\nthronelike bedstead, whereupon her strangely perturbed imagination\nwilfully conjured up the picture of milor holding his court, with la\nbelle Irene in a brilliant rose- gown complacently receiving\nhis marked attentions, she suddenly heard him speak:\n\n\"One second, I entreat you, Madame, if you can spare it!\"\n\nHer own hand at the moment was on that gilded knob of the door,\nthrough which she had been about to pass. His voice came from\nsomewhere close behind her.\n\nShe turned slightly toward him, and saw him standing there, looking\nvery fixedly at her, with a gaze which had something of entreaty in\nit, and also an unexplainable subtle something which at first she\ncould not quite understand.\n\n\"I was going to my study, milor,\" she said, a little taken aback, for\nshe certainly had not thought him in the room.\n\n\"Therefore I must crave your indulgence if I intrude,\" he said simply.\n\n\"Can I serve you in any way?\"\n\n\"Your ladyship is pleased to be gracious----\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\nShe was accustomed to his diffident manner and to his halting speech,\nwhich usually had the knack of irritating her. But just now she seemed\ninclined to be kind. She felt distinctly pleased that he was here. To\nher keenly sensitive nature it seemed as if it had been her thoughts\nwhich had called to him, and that something in him responded to her\nwish that he should be the man to take her confidential message to the\ncommander of _Le Monarque_.\n\nNow his eyes dropped from her face and fixed themselves on the hand\nwhich had fallen loosely to her side.\n\n\"That paper which you hold, Madame----\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I pray you give it to me.\"\n\n\"To you? Why?\" she asked, as the encouraging smile suddenly vanished\nfrom her face.\n\n\"Because I cannot bear the sight of Mme. la Marquise d'Eglinton, my\nwife, sullying her fingers one second longer by contact with this\ninfamy.\"\n\nHe spoke very quietly, in that even, gentle, diffident voice of his,\nwhilst his eyes once more riveted themselves on her face.\n\nInstinctively she clutched the letter tighter, and her whole figure\nseemed to stiffen as she looked at him full now, a deep frown between\nher eyes, her whole attitude suggestive of haughty surprise and of\nlofty contempt. There was dead silence in the vast room save for the\ncrackling of that paper, which to a keenly sensitive ear would have\nsuggested the idea that the dainty hand which held it was not as\nsteady as its owner would have wished.\n\nIt seemed suddenly as if with the speaking of a few words these two\npeople, who had been almost strangers, had by a subtle process become\nantagonists, and were unconsciously measuring one another's strength,\nmistrustful of one another's hidden weapons. But already the woman was\nprepared for a conflict of will, a contest for that hitherto\nundisputed mastery, which she vaguely feared was being attacked, and\nwhich she would not give up, be the cost of defence what it may,\nwhilst the man was still diffident, still vaguely hopeful that she\nwould not fight, for his armour was vulnerable where hers was not, and\nshe owned certain weapons which he knew himself too weak to combat.\n\n\"Therefore I proffer my request again, Madame,\" he said after a pause.\n\"That paper----\"\n\n\"A strong request, milor,\" said Lydie coldly.\n\n\"It is more than a request, Madame.\"\n\n\"A command perhaps?\"\n\nHe did not reply; obviously he had noted the sneer, for a very slight\nblush rose to his pale cheeks. Lydie, satisfied that the shaft had\ngone home, paused awhile, just long enough to let the subtle poison of\nher last words sink well in, then she resumed with calm indifference:\n\n\"You will forgive me, milor, when I venture to call your attention to\nthe fact that hitherto I have considered myself to be the sole judge\nand mentor of my own conduct.\"\n\n\"Possibly this has worked very well in all matters, Madame,\" he\nreplied, quite unruffled by her sarcasm, \"but in this instance you see\nme compelled to ask you--reluctantly I admit--to give me that letter\nand then to vouchsafe me an explanation as to what you mean to do.\"\n\n\"You will receive it in due course, milor,\" she said haughtily; \"for\nthe moment I must ask you to excuse me. I am busy, and----\"\n\nShe was conscious of an overwhelming feeling of irritation at his\ninterference and, fearing to betray it beyond the bounds of courtesy,\nshe wished to go away. But now he deliberately placed his hand on the\nknob, and stood between her and the door.\n\n\"Milor!\" she protested.\n\n\"Yes, I am afraid I am very clumsy, Madame,\" he said quite gently.\n\"Let us suppose that French good manners have never quite succeeded in\ngetting the best of my English boorishness. I know it is against every\nrule of etiquette that I should stand between you and the door through\nwhich you desire to pass, but I have humbly asked for an explanation\nand also for that letter, and I cannot allow your ladyship to go until\nI have had it.\"\n\n\"Allow?\" she said, with a short mocking laugh. \"Surely, milor, you\nwill not force me to refer to the compact to which you willingly\nsubscribed when you asked me to be your wife?\"\n\n\"'Tis not necessary, Madame, for I well remember it. I gave you a\npromise not to interfere with your life, such as you had chosen to\norganize it. I promised to leave you free in thought, action, and\nconduct, just as you had been before you honoured me by consenting to\nbear my name.\"\n\n\"Well, then, milor?\" she asked.\n\n\"This is a different matter, Mme. la Marquise,\" he replied calmly,\n\"since it concerns mine own honour and that of my name. Of that honour\nI claim to be the principal guardian.\"\n\nThen as she seemed disinclined to vouchsafe a rejoinder he continued,\nwith just a shade more vehemence in his tone:\n\n\"The proposal which His Majesty placed before me awhile ago, that same\nletter which you still hold in your hand, are such vile and noisome\nthings that actual contact with them is pollution. As I see you now\nwith that infamous document between those fingers which I have had the\nhonour to kiss, it seems to me as if you were clutching a hideous and\nvenomous reptile, the very sight of which should have been loathsome\nto you, and from which I should have wished to see you turn as you\nwould from a slimy toad.\"\n\n\"As you did yourself, milor?\" she said with a contemptuous shrug of\nthe shoulders, thinking of his blunder, of the catastrophe which he\nall but precipitated, and which her more calm diplomacy had perhaps\naverted.\n\n\"As I did, though no doubt very clumsily,\" he admitted simply, \"the\nmoment I grasped its purport to the full. To see you, my wife--yes, my\nwife,\" he repeated with unusual firmness in answer to a subtle,\nindefinable expression which at his words had lit up her face, \"to see\nyou pause if only for one brief half hour with that infamy before your\neyes, with that vile suggestion reaching and dwelling in your brain\nthe man who made it--be he King of France, I care not--kissing those\nsame fingers which held the abominable thing, was unspeakably horrible\nin my sight; it brought real physical agony to every one of my senses.\nI endured it only for so long as etiquette demanded, hoping against\nhope that every second which went by would witness your cry of\nindignation, your contempt for that vile and execrable letter which,\nhad you not interposed, I myself would have flung in the lying face of\nthat kingly traitor. But you smiled at him in response; you took the\nletter from him! My God, I saw you put it in the bosom of your gown!\"\n\nHe paused a moment, as if ashamed of this outburst of passion, so\ndifferent to his usual impassiveness. It seemed as if her haughty\nlook, her ill-concealed contempt, was goading him on, beyond the\nbounds of restraint which he had meant to impose on himself. She no\nlonger now made an attempt to go. She was standing straight before\nhim, leaning slightly back against the portiere--a curtain of rich,\nheavy silk of that subtle brilliant shade, 'twixt a scarlet and a\ncrimson, which is only met with in certain species of geranium.\n\nAgainst this glowing background her slim, erect figure, stiff with\nunbendable pride, stood out in vivid relief. The red of the silk cast\nardent reflections into her chestnut hair, and against the creamy\nwhiteness of her neck and ear. The sober, almost conventual gray of\nher gown, the primly folded kerchief at her throat, the billows of\nlace around the graceful arm formed an exquisite note of tender colour\nagainst that glaring geranium red. In one hand she still held the\nletter, the other rested firmly against the curtain. The head was\nthrown back, the lips slightly parted and curled in disdain, the\neyes--half veiled--looked at him through long fringed lashes.\n\nA picture worthy to inflame the passion of any man. Lord Eglinton,\nwith a mechanical movement of the hand across his forehead, seemed to\nbrush away some painful and persistent thought.\n\n\"Nay, do not pause, milor,\" she said quietly. \"Believe me, you\ninterest me vastly.\"\n\nHe frowned and bit his lip.\n\n\"Your pardon, Madame,\" he rejoined more calmly now. \"I was forgetting\nthe limits of courtly manners. I have little more to say. I would not\nhave troubled you with so much talk, knowing that my feeling in such\nmatters can have no interest for your ladyship. When awhile ago this\ngreat bare room was at last free from the bent-backed, mouthing\nflatterers that surround you, I waited patiently for a spontaneous\nword from you, something to tell me that the honour of my name, one of\nthe oldest in England, was not like to be stained by contact with the\ndiplomatic by-ways of France. I had not then thought of asking for an\nexplanation; I waited for you to speak. Instead of which I saw you\ntake that miserable letter once more in your hand, sit and ponder over\nit without a thought or look for me. I saw your face, serene and\nplacid, your attitude one of statesmanlike calm, as without a word or\nnod you prepared to pass out of my sight.\"\n\n\"Then you thought fit to demand from me an explanation of my conduct\nin a matter in which you swore most solemnly a year ago that you would\nnever interfere?\"\n\n\"Demand is a great word, Madame,\" he said, now quite gently. \"I do\nnot demand; I ask for an explanation on my knees.\"\n\nAnd just as he had done a year ago when first she laid her hand in his\nand he made his profession of faith, he dropped on one knee and bent\nhis head, until his aching brow almost touched her gown.\n\nShe looked down on him from the altitude of her domineering pride; she\nsaw his broad shoulders, bent in perfect humility, his chestnut hair\nfree from the conventional powder, the slender hands linked together\nnow in a strangely nervous clasp, and she drew back because her skirt\nseemed perilously near his fingers.\n\nWill the gods ever reveal the secret of a woman's heart? Lydie loathed\nthe King's proposal, the letter which she held, just as much as Lord\nEglinton did himself. Awhile ago she had hardly been able to think or\nto act coherently while she felt the contact of that noisome paper\nagainst her flesh. If she had smiled on Louis, if she had taken the\nletter away from him with vague promises that she would think the\nmatter over, it had been solely because she knew the man with whom she\nhad to deal better than did milor Eglinton, who had but little\nexperience of the Court of Versailles, since he had kept away from it\nduring the major part of his life. She had only meant to temporize\nwith the King, because she felt sure that that was the only way to\nserve the Stuart Prince and to avert the treachery.\n\nNay, more, in her heart she felt that milor was right; she knew that\nwhen a thing is so vile and so abominable as Louis' proposed scheme,\nall contact with it _is_ a pollution, and that it is impossible to\nfinger slimy mud without some of it clinging to flesh or gown.\n\nYet with all that in her mind, a subtle perversity seemed suddenly to\nhave crept into her heart, a perversity and also a bitter sense of\ninjustice. She and her husband had been utter strangers since the day\nof their marriage, she had excluded him from her counsels, just as she\nhad done from her heart and mind. She had never tried to understand\nhim, and merely fostered that mild contempt which his diffidence and\nhis meekness had originally roused in her. Yet at this moment when he\nso obviously misunderstood her, when he thought that her attitude with\nregard to the King's proposals was one of acceptance, or at least not\nof complete condemnation, her pride rose in violent revolt.\n\nHe had no right to think her so base. He had invaded her thoughts at\nthe very moment when they dwelt on his friend and the best mode to\nsave him; nay, more, was she not proposing to associate him, who now\naccused her so groundlessly, with her work of devotion and loyalty?\n\nHe should have known, he should have guessed, and now she hated him\nfor his thoughts of her; she who had kept herself untainted in the\nmidst of the worst corruption that ever infested a Court, whose purity\nof motives, whose upright judgments had procured her countless enemies\namongst the imbecile and the infamous, she to be asked and begged to\nbe loyal and to despise treachery!\n\nNay, she was too proud now to explain. An explanation would seem like\na surrender, an acknowledgment--_par Dieu_ of what? and certainly a\nhumiliation.\n\nAccording to milor, her husband, was there not one single upright and\nloyal soul in France except his own? No honour save that of his own\nname?\n\nShe laughed suddenly, laughed loudly and long. Manlike, he did not\nnotice the forced ring of that merriment. He had blundered, of course,\nbut this he did not know. In the simplicity of his heart he thought\nthat she would have been ready to understand, that she would have\nexplained and then agreed with him as to the best means of throwing\nthe nefarious proposal back into the King's teeth.\n\nAt her laugh he sprang to his feet; every drop of blood seemed to have\nleft his cheeks, which were now ashy pale.\n\n\"Nay, milor,\" she said with biting sarcasm, \"but 'tis a mountain full\nof surprises that you display before my astonished fancy. Who had e'er\nsuspected you of so much eloquence? I vow I do not understand how your\nlordship could have seen so much of my doings just now, seeing that at\nthat moment you had eyes and ears only for Irene de Stainville.\"\n\n\"Mme. de Stainville hath naught to do with the present matter,\nMadame,\" he rejoined, \"nor with my request for an explanation from\nyou.\"\n\n\"I refuse to give it, milor,\" she said proudly, \"and as I have no wish\nto spoil or mar your pleasures, so do I pray you to remember our bond,\nwhich is that you leave me free to act and speak, aye, and to guide\nthe destinies of France if she have need of me, without interference\nfrom you.\"\n\nAnd with that refinement of cruelty of which a woman's heart is\nsometimes capable at moments of acute crises, she carefully folded the\nEnglish letter and once more slipped it into the bosom of her gown.\nShe vouchsafed him no other look, but gathering her skirts round her\nshe turned and left him. Calm and erect she walked the whole length of\nthe room and then passed through another doorway finally out of his\nsight.\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nTHE WOMAN\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nSPLENDID ISOLATION\n\n\nM. Durand looked flustered when Lydie suddenly entered his sanctum.\nBut she was hardly conscious of his presence, or even of where she\nwas.\n\nThe vast audience chamber which she had just quitted so abruptly had\nonly the two exits; the one close to which she had left milor\nstanding, and the other which gave into this antechamber, where M.\nDurand usually sat for the express purpose of separating the wheat\nfrom the chaff--or, in other words, the suppliants who had letters of\nintroduction or passports to \"le petit lever\" of M. le\nControleur-General, from those who had not.\n\nIt was not often that Mme. la Marquise came this way at all; no doubt\nthis accounted in some measure for M. Durand's agitation when she\nopened the door so suddenly. Had Lydie been less absorbed in her own\nthoughts she would have noticed that his hands fidgeted quite\nnervously with the papers on his bureau, and that his pale watery eyes\nwandered with anxious restlessness from her face to the heavy portiere\nwhich masked one of the doors. But, indeed, at this moment neither M.\nDurand nor his surroundings existed for her; she crossed the\nantechamber rapidly without seeing him. She only wanted to get away,\nto put the whole enfilade of the next reception rooms between herself\nand the scene which had just taken place.\n\nSomething was ringing in her ears. She could not say for certain\nwhether she had really heard it, or whether her quivering nerves were\nplaying her a trick; but a cry had come to her across the vastness of\nthe great audience-chamber, and rang now even through the closed door.\n\nA cry of acute agony; a cry as of an animal in pain. The word:\n\"Lydie!\" The tone: one of reproach, of appeal, of aching, wounded\npassion!\n\nShe fled from it, unwilling to admit its reality, unwilling to believe\nher ears. She felt too deeply wounded herself to care for the pain of\nanother. She hoped, indeed, that she had grievously hurt his pride,\nhis self-respect, that very love which he had once professed for her,\nand which apparently had ceased to be.\n\nOnce he had knelt at her feet, comparing her to the Madonna, to the\nsaints whom Catholics revered yet dared not approach; then he talked\nof worship, and now he spoke of pollution, of stained honour, and\nasked her to keep herself free from taint. What right had he not to\nunderstand? If he still loved her, he would have understood. But\nconstant intercourse with Irene de Stainville had blurred his inward\nvision; the image of the Madonna, serene and unapproachable, had\nbecome faded and out of focus, and he now groped earthwards for less\nunattainable ideals.\n\nThat this was in any way her fault Lydie would not admit. She had\nbecome his wife because he had asked her, and because he had been\nwilling to cover her wounded vanity with the mantle of his adoration,\nand the glamour of his wealth and title. He knew her for what she was:\nstatuesque and cold, either more or less than an ordinary woman, since\nshe was wholly devoid of sentimentality; but with a purpose in her\nmind and a passion for work, for power and influence. Work for the\ngood of France! Power to attain this end!\n\nThus he had found her, thus he had first learned to love her! She had\ndenied him nothing that he had ever dared to ask. This had been a bond\nbetween them, which now he had tried to break; but if he had loved her\nas heretofore he would not have asked, he would have known. How, and\nby what subtle process of his mind Lydie did not care to analyze.\n\nHe would have known: he would have understood, if he still loved her.\n\nThese two phrases went hammering in her brain, a complement to that\ncry which still seemed to reach her senses, although the whole\nenfilade of reception rooms now stretched their vastness between her\nand that persistent echo.\n\nOf course his love had been naught to her. It was nothing more at best\nthan mute, somewhat dog-like adoration: a love that demanded nothing,\nthat was content to be, to exist passively and to worship from afar.\n\nWomanlike, she apprised it in inverse ratio to its obtrusiveness; the\nless that was asked of her, the less she thought it worth while to\ngive. But the love had always been there. At great social functions,\nin the midst of a crowd or in the presence of royalty, whenever she\nlooked across a room or over a sea of faces, she saw a pair of eyes\nwhich rested on her every movement with rapt attention and unspoken\nadmiration.\n\nNow she would have to forego that. The love was no longer there. On\nthis she insisted, repeating it to herself over and over again, though\nthis seemed to increase both the tension of her nerves, and the\nstrange tendency to weakness, from which her proud spirit shrank in\nrebellion.\n\nShe was walking very rapidly now, and as she reached the monumental\nstaircase, she ran down the steps without heeding the astonished\nglances of the army of flunkeys that stood about on landing and\ncorridors. In a moment she was out on the terrace, breathing more\nfreely as soon as she filled her lungs with the pure air of this\nglorious summer's day.\n\nAt first the light, the glare, the vibration of water and leaves under\nthe kiss of the midday sun dazzled her eyes so that she could not see.\nBut she heard the chirrup of the sparrows, the call of thrush and\nblackbird, and far away the hymn of praise of the skylark. Her\nnostrils drew in with glad intoxication the pungent fragrance of\noak-leaved geraniums, and her heart called out joyfully to the\nsecluded plantation of young beech trees there on her left, where she\noften used to wander.\n\nThither now she bent her steps. It was a favourite walk of hers, and a\ncherished spot, for she had it always before her when she sat in her\nown study at the angle of the West Wing. The tall windows of her\nprivate sanctum gave on this plantation, and whenever she felt wearied\nor disheartened with the great burden which she had taken on her\nshoulders, she would sit beside the open casements and rest her eyes\non the brilliant emerald or copper of the leaves, and find rest and\nsolace in the absolute peace they proclaimed.\n\nAnd, at times like the present one, when the park was still deserted,\nshe liked to wander in that miniature wood, crushing with delight the\nmoist bed of moss under her feet, letting the dew-covered twigs fall\nback with a swish against her hands. She found her way to a tiny\nglade, where a rough garden seat invited repose. The glade was\ncircular in shape, a perfect audience chamber, wherein to review a\nwhole army of fancies. On the ground a thick carpet of brilliant green\nwith designs of rich sienna formed by last year's leaves, and flecks\nof silver of young buds not yet scorched by the midday sun; all\naround, walls of parallel, slender trunks of a tender gray-green\ncolour, with bold patches of glaring viridian and gold intermixed with\ndull blue shadows. And then a dado of tall bracken fantastic in shape\nand almost weird in outline, through which there peeped here and\nthere, with insolent luxuriance, clumps of purple and snow-white\nfoxgloves.\n\nLydie sank on to the rough bench, leaning well back and resting her\nhead against the hard, uneven back of the seat. Her eyes gazed\nstraight upwards to a patch of vivid blue sky, almost crude and\nartificial-looking above the canopy of the beeches.\n\nShe felt unspeakably lonely, unspeakably forsaken. The sense of\ninjustice oppressed her even more than the atmosphere of treachery.\n\nHer father false and weak; her husband fickle and unjust! Prince\nCharles Edward abandoned, and she now powerless, probably, to carry\nthrough the work of rescue which she had planned! Until this moment\nshe had not realized how much she had counted on her husband to help\nher. Now that she could no longer ask him to ride to Le Havre, and\ntake her message to the commander of _Le Monarque_, she cast about her\nin vain for a substitute: some one whom she could trust. Her world was\nmade up of sycophants, of flatterers, of pleasure-loving s. Where\nwas the man who would cover one hundred and eighty leagues in one\nnight in order to redeem a promise made by France?\n\nHer head ached with the agony of this thought. It was terrible to see\nher most cherished hope threatened with annihilation. Oh! had she been\na man! . . .\n\nTears gathered in her eyes. At other times she would have scorned the\nweakness, now she welcomed it, for it seemed to lift the load of\noppression from her heart. The glare of that vivid blue sky above\nweighed down her lids. She closed her eyes and for the space of a few\nseconds she seemed to forget everything; the world, and its treachery,\nthe palace of Versailles, the fugitives in Scotland.\n\nEverything except her loneliness, and the sound of that cry: \"Lydie!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nCLEVER TACTICS\n\n\nAs soon as M. Durand had recovered from the shock of Madame la\nMarquise's sudden invasion of his sanctum, he ran to the portiere\nwhich he had been watching so anxiously, and, pushing it aside, he\ndisclosed the door partially open.\n\n\"Monsieur le Comte de Stainville!\" he called discreetly.\n\n\"Has she gone?\" came in a whisper from the inner room.\n\n\"Yes! yes! I pray you enter, M. le Comte,\" said M. Durand,\nobsequiously holding the portiere aside. \"Madame la Marquise only\npassed through very quickly; she took notice of nothing, I assure\nyou.\"\n\nGaston de Stainville cast a quick searching glance round the room as\nhe entered, and fidgeted nervously with a lace handkerchief in his\nhand. No doubt his enforced sudden retreat at Lydie's approach had\nbeen humiliating to his pride. But he did not want to come on her too\nabruptly, and was chafing now because he needed a menial's help to\nfurther his desires.\n\n\"You were a fool, man, to place me in this awkward position,\" he said\nwith a scowl directed at M. Durand's meek personality, \"or else a\nknave, in which case . . .\"\n\n\"Ten thousand pardons, M. le Comte,\" rejoined the little man\napologetically. \"Madame la Marquise scarcely ever comes this way\nafter _le petit lever_. She invariably retires to her study, and\nthither I should have had the honour to conduct you, according to your\nwish.\"\n\n\"You seem very sure that Madame la Marquise would have granted me a\nprivate audience.\"\n\n\"I would have done my best to obtain one for M. Le Comte,\" said M.\nDurand with becoming modesty, \"and I think I should have succeeded\n. . . with tact and diplomacy, Monsieur le Comte, we, who are\nprivileged to . . .\"\n\n\"Yes, yes!\" interrupted Gaston impatiently, \"but now?\"\n\n\"Ah! now it will be much more difficult. Madame la Marquise is not in\nher study, and . . .\"\n\n\"And you will want more pay,\" quoth Gaston with a sneer.\n\n\"Oh! Monsieur le Comte . . .\" protested Durand.\n\n\"Well! how much more?\" said the Comte impatiently.\n\n\"What does M. le Comte desire?\"\n\n\"To speak with Madame la Marquise quite alone.\"\n\n\"Heu! . . . heu! . . . it is difficult. . . .\"\n\nBut Gaston de Stainville's stock of patience was running low. He never\nhad a great deal. With a violent oath he seized the little man by the\ncollar.\n\n\"Two louis, you knave, for getting me that audience now, at once, or\nmy flunkey's stick across your shoulders if you fool me any longer.\"\n\nM. Durand apparently was not altogether unprepared for this outburst:\nperhaps his peculiar position had often subjected him to similar\nonslaughts on the part of irate and aristocratic supplicants. Anyway,\nhe did not seem at all disturbed, and, as soon as the Comte's grip on\nhis collar relaxed, he readjusted his coat and his cravat, and holding\nout his thin hand, he said meekly:\n\n\"The two louis I pray you, Monsieur le Comte. And,\" he added, when\nGaston, with another oath, finally placed the two gold pieces on the\nmeagre palm, \"will you deign to follow me?\"\n\nHe led the way through the large folding doors and thence along the\nenfilade of gorgeous reception rooms, the corridors, landings and\nstaircase which Lydie herself had traversed just now. Gaston de\nStainville followed him at a close distance, acknowledging with a curt\nnod here and there the respectful salutations of the many lackeys whom\nhe passed.\n\nM. le Comte de Stainville was an important personage at Court: Madame\nde Pompadour's predilection for him was well known, and His Majesty\nhimself was passing fond of the gallant gentleman's company, whilst\nMadame la Comtesse was believed to hold undisputed sway over M. le\nControleur-General des Finances.\n\nThus Gaston met with obsequiousness wherever he went, and this despite\nthe fact that he was not lavish with money. M. Durand would have\nexpected a much heavier bribe from any one else for this service which\nhe was now rendering to the Comte.\n\nAnon the two men reached the terrace. M. Durand then pointed with one\nclaw-like finger to the spinney on the left.\n\n\"M. le Comte will find Madame la Marquise in yonder plantation,\" he\nsaid; \"as for me, I dare not vacate my post any longer, for M. le\nControleur might have need of me, nor would Monsieur le Comte care\nmayhap to be seen by Madame la Marquise in my company.\"\n\nGaston assented. He was glad to be rid of the mealy-mouthed creature,\nof whose necessary help in this matter he was heartily ashamed. Unlike\nLydie, he was quite unconscious of the beauty of this August day:\nneither the birds nor the acrid scent of late summer flowers appealed\nto his fancy, and the clump of young beech trees only interested him\nin so far as he hoped to find Lydie there, alone.\n\nWhen he reached the little glade, he caught sight of the graceful\nfigure, half-sitting, half-reclining in the unconscious charm of\nsleep. Overcome by the heat and the glare, Lydie had dozed off\nmomentarily.\n\nPresently something caused her to open her eyes and she saw Gaston de\nStainville standing there looking at her intently.\n\nShe was taken at a disadvantage, since she had undoubtedly been\nasleep--if only for a moment--and she was not quite sure if her pose,\nwhen Gaston first caught sight of her, was sufficiently dignified.\n\n\"I am afraid I have disturbed you,\" he said humbly.\n\n\"I was meditating,\" she replied coldly, as she smoothed down her\nskirts and mechanically put a hand to her hair, lest a curl had gone\nastray.\n\nThen she made as if she would rise.\n\n\"Surely you are not going?\" he pleaded.\n\n\"I have my work to do. I only stayed here a moment, in order to rest.\"\n\n\"And I am intruding?\"\n\n\"Oh, scarcely,\" she replied quietly. \"I was about to return to my\nwork.\"\n\n\"Is it so urgent?\"\n\n\"The business of a nation, M. le Comte, is always urgent.\"\n\n\"So urgent that you have no time now to give to old friends,\" he said\nbitterly.\n\nShe shrugged her shoulders with a quick, sarcastic laugh.\n\n\"Old friends? . . . Oh! . . .\"\n\n\"Yes, old friends,\" he rejoined quietly. \"We were children together,\nLydie.\"\n\n\"Much has occurred since then, Monsieur le Comte.\"\n\n\"Only one great and awful fault, which meseems hath been its own\nexpiation.\"\n\n\"Need we refer to that now?\" she asked calmly.\n\n\"Indeed, indeed, we must,\" he replied earnestly. \"Lydie, am I never to\nbe forgiven?\"\n\n\"Is there aught for me to forgive?\"\n\n\"Yes. An error, a grave error . . . a fault, if you will call it so\n. . .\"\n\n\"I prefer to call it a treachery,\" she said.\n\n\"Without one word of explanation, without listening to a single word\nfrom me. Is that just?\"\n\n\"There is nothing that you could say now, Monsieur le Comte, that I\nshould have the right to hear.\"\n\n\"Why so?\" he said with sudden vehemence, as he came nearer to her, and\nin a measure barred the way by which she might have escaped. \"Even a\ncriminal at point of death is allowed to say a few words in\nself-defence. Yet I was no criminal. If I loved you, Lydie, was that\nwrong? . . . I was an immeasurable fool, I own that,\" he added more\ncalmly, being quick to note that he only angered her by his violence,\n\"and it is impossible for a high-minded woman like yourself to\nunderstand the pitfalls which beset the path of a man, who has riches,\ngood looks mayhap and a great name, all of which will tempt the\ncupidity of certain designing women, bent above all on matrimony, on\ninfluence and independence. Into one of these pitfalls I fell, Lydie\n. . . fell clumsily, stupidly, I own, but not inexcusably.\"\n\n\"You seem to forget, M. le Comte,\" she said stiffly, \"that you are\nspeaking of your wife.\"\n\n\"Nay!\" he said with a certain sad dignity, \"I try not to forget it. I\ndo not accuse, I merely state a fact, and do so before the woman whom\nI most honour in the world, who was the first recipient of my childish\nconfidences, the first consoler of my boyhood's sorrows.\"\n\n\"That was when you were free, M. le Comte, and could bring your\nconfidences to me; now they justly belong to another and . . .\"\n\n\"And by the heavens above me,\" he interrupted eagerly, \"I do that\nother no wrong by bringing my sorrows to you and laying them with a\nprayer for consolation at your feet.\"\n\nHe noted that since that first desire to leave him, Lydie had made no\nother attempt to go. She was sitting in the angle of the rough garden\nseat, her graceful arm resting on the back, her cheek leaning against\nher hand. A gentle breeze stirred the little curls round her head, and\nnow, when he spoke so earnestly and so sadly about his sorrow, a swift\nlook of sympathy softened the haughty expression of her mouth.\n\nQuick to notice it, Gaston nevertheless in no way relaxed his attitude\nof humble supplication; he stood before her with head bent, his eyes\nmostly riveted on the ground.\n\n\"There is so little consolation that I can give,\" she said more\ngently.\n\n\"There is a great one, if you will but try.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Do not cast me out from your life altogether. Am I such a despicable\ncreature that you cannot now and then vouchsafe me one kind look?\n. . . I did wrong you . . . I know it. . . . Call it treachery if you\nmust, yet when I look back on that night, meseems I am worthy of your\npity. Blinded by my overwhelming love for you, I forgot everything for\none brief hour . . . forgot that I had sunk deeply in a pitfall--by\nHeaven through no fault of mine own! . . . forgot that another now had\na claim on that love which never was mine to give, since it had always\nbeen wholly yours. . . . Yes! I forgot! . . . the music, the noise,\nthe excitement of the night, your own beauty, Lydie, momentarily\naddled my brain. . . . I forgot the past, I only lived for the\npresent. Am I to blame because I am a man and that you are exquisitely\nfair?\"\n\nHe forced himself not to raise his voice, not to appear eager or\nvehement. Lydie only saw before her a man whom she had once loved, who\nhad grievously wronged her, but who now stood before her ashamed and\nhumbled, asking with utmost respect for her forgiveness of the past.\n\n\"Let us speak of it no longer,\" she said, \"believe me, Gaston, I have\nnever borne you ill-will.\"\n\nFor the first time she had used his Christian name. The layer of ice\nwas broken through, but the surface of the lake was still cold and\nsmooth.\n\n\"Nay! but you avoid me,\" he rejoined seeking to meet her eyes, \"you\ntreat me with whole-hearted contempt, whilst I would lay down my life\nto serve you, and this in all deference and honour, as the martyrs of\nold laid down their life for their faith.\"\n\n\"Protestations, Gaston,\" she said with a quick sigh.\n\n\"Let me prove them true,\" he urged. \"Lydie, I watched you just now,\nwhile you slept; it was some minutes and I saw much. Your lips were\nparted with constant sighs; there were tears at the points of your\nlashes. At that moment I would have gladly died if thereby I could\nhave eased your heart from the obvious burden which it bore.\"\n\nEmboldened by her silence, and by the softer expression of her face,\nhe sat down close beside her, and anon placed his hand on hers. She\nwithdrew it quietly and serenely as was her wont, but quite without\nanger.\n\nShe certainly felt no anger toward him. Strangely enough, the anger\nshe did feel was all against her husband. That Gaston had seen her\ngrief was in a measure humiliating to her pride, and this humiliation\nshe owed to the great wrong done her by milor. And Gaston had been\nclever at choosing his words; he appealed to her pity and asked for\nforgiveness. There was no attempt on his part to justify himself, and\nhis self-abasement broke down the barrier of resentment which up to\nnow she had set up against him. His respectful homage soothed her\nwounded pride, and she felt really, sincerely sorry for him.\n\nThe fact that her own actions had been so gravely misunderstood also\nhelped Gaston's cause; she felt that, after all, she too might have\npassed a hasty, unconsidered judgment on him, and knew now how acutely\nsuch a judgment can hurt.\n\nAnd he spoke very earnestly, very simply: remember that she had loved\nhim once, loved and trusted him. He had been the ideal of her\ngirlhood, and though she had remorselessly hurled him down from his\nhigh pedestal since then, there remained nevertheless, somewhere in\nthe depths of her heart, a lingering thought of tenderness for him.\n\n\"Lydie!\" he now said appealingly.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Let me be the means of easing your heart from its load of sorrow. You\nspoke of my wife just now. See, I do not shirk the mention of her\nname. I swear to you by that early love for you which was the noblest,\npurest emotion of my life, that I do not wrong her by a single thought\nwhen I ask for your friendship. You are so immeasurably superior to\nall other women, Lydie, that in your presence passion itself becomes\nexalted and desire transformed into a craving for sacrifice.\"\n\n\"Oh! how I wish I could believe you, Gaston,\" she sighed.\n\n\"Try me!\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"Let me guess what troubles you now. Oh! I am not the empty-headed \nthat you would believe. I have ears and eyes, and if I hold aloof from\nCourt intrigues, it is only because I see too much of their inner\nworkings. Do you really believe that I do not see what goes on around\nme now? Do I not know how your noble sympathy must at this very moment\nbe going out to the unfortunate young prince whom you honour with your\nfriendship? Surely, surely, you cannot be a party to the criminal\nsupineness which at this very moment besets France, and causes her to\nabandon him to his fate?\"\n\n\"Not France, Gaston,\" she protested.\n\n\"And not you, surely. I would stake my life on your loyalty to a\nfriend.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" she said simply.\n\n\"I knew it,\" he ejaculated triumphantly, as if this discovery had\nindeed caused him joyful surprise. \"Every fibre in my soul told me\nthat I would not appeal to you in vain. You are clever, Lydie, you are\nrich, you are powerful. I feel as if I could turn to you as to a man.\nPrince Charles Edward Stuart honoured me with his friendship: I am not\npresumptuous when I say that I stood in his heart second only to Lord\nEglinton. . . . But because I hold a secondary place I dared not\nthrust my advice, my prayers, my help forward, whilst I firmly\nbelieved that his greater friend was at work on his behalf. But now I\ncan bear the suspense no longer. The crisis has become over-acute. The\nStuart prince is in deadly danger, not only from supineness but from\ntreachery.\"\n\nClever Gaston! how subtle and how shrewd! she would never have to come\nto meet him on this ground, but he called to her. He came to fetch\nher, as it were, and led her along the road. He did not offer to guide\nher faltering footsteps, he simulated lameness, and asked for\nassistance instead of offering it.\n\nSo clever was this move that Lydie was thrown off her guard. At the\nword \"treachery\" she looked eagerly into his eyes.\n\n\"What makes you think . . . ?\" she asked.\n\n\"Oh! I have scented it in the air for some days. The King himself\nwears an air of shamefacedness when the Stuart prince is mentioned.\nMadame de Pompadour lately hath talked freely of the completion of her\nchateau in the Parc aux Cerfs, as if money were forthcoming from some\nunexpected source; then a letter came from England, which His Majesty\nkeeps hidden in his pocket, whilst whispered conversations are carried\non between the King and Madame, which cease abruptly if any one comes\nwithin earshot. Then to-day . . .\"\n\n\"Yes? . . . to-day?\" she asked eagerly.\n\n\"I hardly dare speak of it.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I fear it might give you pain.\"\n\n\"I am used to pain,\" she said simply, \"and I would wish to know.\"\n\n\"I was in the antechamber when His Majesty arrived for _le petit\nlever_ of M. le Controleur. I had had vague hopes of seeing you this\nmorning, and lingered about the reception rooms somewhat listlessly,\nmy thoughts dwelling on all the sad news which has lately come from\nScotland. In the antechamber His Majesty was met by M. le Duc\nd'Aumont, your father.\"\n\nHe paused again as if loth to speak, but she said quite calmly:\n\n\"And you overheard something which the Duke, my father, said to the\nKing, and which confirmed your suspicions. What was it?\"\n\n\"It was His Majesty who spoke, obviously not aware that I was within\nearshot. He said quite airily: 'Oh! if we cannot persuade milor we\nmust act independently of him. The Stuart will be tired by now of\nliving in crags and will not be so chary of entrusting his valuable\nperson to a comfortable French ship.' Then M. le Duc placed a hand on\nHis Majesty's arm warning him of my presence and nothing more was\nsaid.\"\n\n\"Then you think that the King of France is about to deliver Prince\nCharles Edward Stuart to his enemies?\" she asked calmly.\n\n\"I am sure of it: and the thought is more than I can bear. And I am\nnot alone in this, Lydie. The whole of France will cry out in shame at\nsuch perfidy. Heaven knows what will come of it ultimately, but\nsurely, surely we cannot allow that unfortunate young prince whom we\nall loved and _feted_ to be thus handed over to the English\nauthorities! That is why I have dared intrude on you to-day. Lydie,\"\nhe added now in a passionate appeal; \"for the sake of that noble if\nmisguided young prince, will you try and forget the terrible wrong\nwhich I in my madness and blindness once did you? Do not allow my sin\nto be expiated by him! . . . I crave your help for him on my knees.\n. . . Hate me an you will! despise me and punish me, but do not deny\nme your help for him!\"\n\nHis voice, though sunk now almost to a whisper, was vibrating with\npassion. He half dropped on his knees, took the edge of her skirt\nbetween his fingers and raised it to his lips.\n\nClever, clever Gaston! he had indeed moved her. Her serenity had gone,\nand her cold impassiveness. She sat up, erect, palpitating with\nexcitement, her eyes glowing, her lips parted, all her senses awake\nand thrilling with this unexpected hope.\n\n\"In what manner do you wish for my help, Gaston?\"\n\n\"I think the King and M. le Duc will do nothing for a day or two at\nany rate. I hoped I could forestall them, with your help, Lydie, if\nyou will give it. I am not rich, but I have realized some of my\nfortune: my intention was to charter a seaworthy boat, equip her as\nwell as my means allowed and start for Scotland immediately, and then\nif possible to induce the prince to cross over with me to Ireland, or,\nwith great good luck I might even bring him back as far as Brittany.\nBut you see how helpless I was, for I dared not approach you, and I do\nnot know where I can find the prince.\"\n\n\"And if I do not give you that help which you need?\" she asked.\n\n\"I would still charter the vessel and start for Scotland,\" he replied\nquietly. \"I cannot stay here, in inactivity whilst I feel that\ninfamous treachery is being planned against a man with whom I have\noften broken bread. If you will not tell me where I can find Charles\nEdward Stuart, I will still equip a vessel and try and find him\nsomehow. If I fail, I will not return, but at any rate I shall then\nnot be a party or a witness to the everlasting shame of France!\"\n\n\"Your expedition would require great pluck and endurance.\"\n\n\"I have both, and boundless enthusiasm to boot. Two or three friends\nwill accompany me, and my intention was to start for Brest or Le Havre\nto-night. But if you will consent to help me, Lydie . . .\"\n\n\"Nay!\" she interrupted eagerly. \"I'll not help you. 'Tis you who shall\nhelp me!\"\n\n\"Lydie!\"\n\n\"The plan which you have formed I too had thought on it: the treachery\nof the King of France, my God! I knew it too. But my plans are more\nmature than yours, less noble and self-sacrificing, for, as you say, I\nhave power and influence; yet with all that power I could not serve\nPrince Charles Edward as I would wish to do, because though I have\npluck and endurance I am not a man.\"\n\n\"And you want me to help you? Thank God! thank God for that! Tell me\nwhat to do.\"\n\n\"To start for Le Havre--not Brest.\"\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n\"This afternoon . . . reaching Le Havre before dawn.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"There to seek out _Le Monarque_. She lies in the harbour, and her\ncommander is Captain Barre.\"\n\n\"Yes! yes!\"\n\n\"You will hand him over a packet, which I will give you anon, and then\nreturn here as swiftly as you went.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" he asked in obvious disappointment, \"and I who had\nhoped that you would ask me to give my life for you!\"\n\n\"The faithful and speedy performance of this errand, Gaston, is worth\nthe most sublime self-sacrifice, if this be purposeless. The packet\nwill contain full instructions for Captain Barre how and where to find\nPrince Charles Edward. _Le Monarque_ is ready equipped for the\nexpedition, but . . .\" she paused a moment as if half ashamed of the\nadmission, \"I had no one whom I could entrust with the message.\"\n\nGaston de Stainville was too keen a diplomatist to venture on this\ndelicate ground. He had never once mentioned her husband's name,\nfearing to scare her, or to sting her pride. He knew her to be far too\nloyal to allow condemnation of her lord by the lips of another man;\nall he said now was a conventional:\n\n\"I am ready!\"\n\nThen she rose and held out her hand to him. He bowed with great\ndeference, and kissed the tips of her fingers. His face expressed\nnothing but the respectful desire to be of service, and not one\nthought of treachery disturbed Lydie's serenity. Historians have, we\nknow, blamed her very severely for this unconditional yielding of\nanother's secret into the keeping of a man who had already deceived\nher once; but it was the combination of circumstances which caused her\nto act thus, and Gaston's masterly move in asking for her help had\ncompletely subjugated her. She would have yielded to no other emotion,\nbut that of compassion for him, and the desire to render him\nassistance in a cause which she herself had so deeply at heart. She\nhad no love for Gaston and no amount of the usual protestations would\nhave wrung a confidence from her. But he had so turned the tables that\nit appeared that he was confiding in her; and her pride, which had\nbeen so deeply humiliated that self-same morning, responded to his\nappeal. If she had had the least doubt or fear in her mind, she would\nnot have given up her secret, but as he stood so coldly and\nimpassively before her, without a trace of passion in his voice or\nlook, she had absolutely no misgivings.\n\n\"I can be in the saddle at four o'clock,\" he said in the same\nunemotional tones, \"when and how can I receive the packet from you?\"\n\n\"Will you wait for me here?\" she replied. \"The packet is quite ready,\nand the walls of the palace have eyes and ears.\"\n\nThus they parted. She full of confidence and hope, not in any way\nattempting to disguise before him the joy and gratitude which she\nfelt, he the more calm of the two, fearing to betray his sense of\ntriumph, still trembling lest her present mood should change.\n\nHer graceful figure quickly disappeared among the trees. He gave a\nsigh of intense satisfaction. His Majesty would be pleased, and Madame\nde Pompadour would be more than kind. Never for a moment did the least\nfeeling of remorse trouble his complacent mind; the dominant thought\nin him was one of absolute triumph and pride at having succeeded in\nhoodwinking the keenest statesman in France. He sat down on the garden\nseat whereon had been fought that close duel between himself and the\nwoman whom he had once already so heartlessly betrayed. He thought\nover every stage of the past scene and smiled somewhat grimly. He felt\nquite sure that he individually would never have trusted for the\nsecond time a woman who had once deceived him. But Lydie had no such\nmisgivings; as she now sped through the park, she no longer saw its\nartificiality, its stunted rose trees and the stultified plantations.\nThe air was invigorating to breathe, the fragrance of the flowers was\nsweet, the birds' twitter was delicious to the ear. There were good\nand beautiful things in this world, but the best of all was the\nloyalty of a friend.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nA CRISIS\n\n\nLydie returned to the palace in a very different frame of mind than\nwhen, half an hour ago, she had run along corridor and staircase, her\nnerves on the jar, her whole being smarting under the sense of wrong\nand of injustice.\n\nHope had consoled her since then, and the thought that her own\ncherished plan need not fail for want of a loyal man's help had in a\nmeasure eased that strange obsession which had weighed on her heart,\nand caused foolish tears to start to her eyes. She was also conscious\nof a certain joy in thinking that the companion of her childhood, the\nman who had been her earliest ideal was not so black a traitor as she\nhad believed.\n\nGaston had spoken of pitfalls, he owned to having been deceived, and\nthere is no woman living who will not readily admit that her\nsuccessful rival is naught but a designing minx. Gaston had always\nbeen weak where women were concerned, and Lydie forgave him his\nweakness, simply because he had owned to it and because she liked to\nthink of his fault as a weakness rather than as a deliberate\ntreachery.\n\nNow she only thought of her project. When first she had talked of\ncommissioning _Le Monarque_, milor had entrusted her with all\nnecessary directions by which Captain Barre could most easily reach\nthe Stuart prince and his friends. It was but a very few weeks, nay\ndays ago, that she had been quite convinced that the King himself\nwould be foremost in the general desire to fit out an expedition for\nthe rescue of the unfortunate Jacobites, and naturally the fitting-out\nof such an expedition would have been entrusted primarily to herself\nand incidentally to her husband.\n\nThese directions she still had. All she had to do now was to embody\nthem in the secret orders which Gaston de Stainville would hand over\nto the Commander of _Le Monarque_. Further orders would be anent\ngetting the prince and his friends on board, and the route to be taken\nhomeward, the better to ensure their safety.\n\nBeyond that she would need some sort of token which, when shown to\nCharles Edward Stuart by Captain Barre, would induce the young prince\nto trust himself and his friends unconditionally to _Le Monarque_.\nLord Eglinton's signet ring had been spoken of for this object the day\nof the Young Pretender's departure, but now of course she could not\nask milor for it. On the other hand she felt quite sure that a written\nword from her would answer the necessary purpose, a brief note sealed\nwith the Eglinton arms.\n\nThe thought of the seal as an additional message of good faith first\noccurred to her when she once more reached the West Wing of the\npalace.\n\nFrom the great square landing where she now stood, a monumental door\non her right gave on her own suite of apartments. On the left was the\nlong enfilade of reception rooms, with the vast audience chamber and\nmilor's own withdrawing room beyond.\n\nShe deliberately turned to the left, and once more traversed the vast\nand gorgeous halls where, half an hour ago, she had suffered such keen\nhumiliation and such overwhelming disappointment. She forced herself\nnot to dwell on that scene again, and even closed her eyes with a\nvague fear that the mental vision might become materialized.\n\nBeyond the audience chamber there were two or three more reception\nrooms, and from the last of these a door masked by a heavy portiere,\ngave on milor's study. All these apartments were now deserted, save\nfor a few flunkeys who stood about desultorily in the window\nembrasures. From one of them Lydie asked if M. le Controleur des\nFinances was within, but no one remembered having seen milor since the\n_petit lever_, and it was generally thought that he had gone to\nTrianon. Lydie hesitated a moment before she opened the door; she\nscarcely ever entered this portion of the palace and had never once\nbeen in milor's private rooms. But she wanted that seal with the\nEglinton arms, and would not admit, even to herself, that her\nhusband's presence or absence interested her in the least.\n\nBut on the threshold she paused. Milor was sitting at a gigantic\nescritoire placed squarely in front of the window. He had obviously\nbeen writing; at the slight sound of the creaking door and the swish\nof Lydie's skirts, he raised his head from his work and turned to look\nat her.\n\nImmediately he rose.\n\n\"Your pardon for this intrusion, milor,\" she said coldly, \"your\nlacqueys gave me to understand that you were from home.\"\n\n\"Is there anything that you desire?\"\n\n\"Only a seal with the Eglinton arms,\" she replied quite casually, \"I\nhave need of it for a private communication.\"\n\nHe sought for the seal among the many costly objects which littered\nhis table and handed it to her.\n\n\"I am sorry that you should have troubled to come so far for it,\" he\nsaid coldly, \"one of my men would have taken it to your study.\"\n\n\"And I am sorry that I should have disturbed you,\" she rejoined. \"I\nwas told that you had gone to Trianon.\"\n\n\"I shall be on my way thither in a few moments, to place my\nresignation in the hands of His Majesty.\"\n\n\"Your resignation?\"\n\n\"As I have had the honour to tell you.\"\n\n\"Then you will leave Versailles?\"\n\n\"To make way for my successor, as soon as His Majesty hath appointed\none.\"\n\n\"And you go . . . whither?\" she asked.\n\n\"Oh! what matter?\" he replied carelessly, \"so long as I no longer\ntrouble your ladyship with my presence.\"\n\n\"Then you will have no objection if I return to my father until your\nfuture plans are more mature?\"\n\n\"Objection?\" he said with a pleasant little laugh. \"Nay, Madame, you\nare pleased to joke.\"\n\nShe felt a little bewildered: this unexpected move on his part had\nsomehow thrown all her plans out of gear. For the moment she scarcely\nhad time to conjecture, even vaguely, what her own future actions\nwould be if her husband no longer chose to hold an important position\nin the Ministry. The thought that his resignation would of necessity\nmean her own, suddenly rushed into her mind with overwhelming\nviolence, but she was too confused at present to disentangle herself\nfrom the maze of conflicting emotions which assailed her, when first\nshe realized the unexpected possibility.\n\nShe was toying with the seal, forgetful somehow of the purpose and the\nplans which it represented. These not being in jeopardy through\nmilor's extraordinary conduct, she could afford to dismiss them from\nher mind.\n\nIt was the idea of her husband's resignation and her own future which\ntroubled her, and strangely enough there was such an air of finality\nabout his attitude that, for the moment, she was somewhat at a loss\nhow to choose a line of argument with which to influence him. That she\ncould make him alter his decision she never doubted for a moment, but\nsince the first day of their married life he had never taken any\ninitiative in an important matter, and his doing so at this moment\nfound her at first wholly unprepared.\n\n\"Am I to understand that my wishes in so vital a decision are not to\nbe consulted in any way?\" she asked after a momentary pause.\n\n\"You will honour me, Madame, by making me acquainted with them,\" he\nreplied.\n\n\"You must reconsider your resignation,\" she said decisively.\n\n\"That is not possible.\"\n\n\"I have much important business of the nation in hand which I could\nnot hand over to your successor in an incomplete state,\" she said\nhaughtily.\n\n\"There is no necessity for that, Madame, nor for depriving the nation\nof your able, guiding hand. The post of Comptroller of Finance need\nnot be filled immediately. It can remain in abeyance and under your\nown matchless control, at the pleasure of His Majesty and M. le Duc\nd'Aumont, neither of whom will, I am sure, desire to make a change in\nan administration, which is entirely for the benefit of France.\"\n\nShe looked at him very keenly, through narrowed lids scanning his face\nand trying to read his intent. But there was obviously no look of\nsarcasm in his eyes, nor the hint of a sneer in the even placidity of\nhis voice. Once more that unaccountable feeling of irritation seemed\nto overmaster her, the same sense of wrath and of injustice which had\nassailed her when she first spoke to him.\n\n\"But this is senseless, milor,\" she said impatiently. \"You seem to\nforget that I am your wife, and that I have a right to your\nprotection, and to a fitting home if I am to leave Versailles.\"\n\n\"I am not forgetting that you are my wife, Madame, but my protection\nis worth so little, scarcely worthy of your consideration. As for the\nrest, my chateau of Vincennes is entirely at your disposal; a retinue\nof servants is there awaiting your orders, and my notary will this day\nprepare the deed which I have commanded wherein I humbly ask you to\naccept the chateau, its lands and revenues as a gift from me, albeit\nthese are wholly unworthy of your condescension.\"\n\n\"It is monstrous, milor, and I'll not accept it,\" she retorted. \"Think\nyou perchance I am so ready to play the _role_ of a forsaken wife?\"\n\nA strange thought had been gradually creeping into her mind: a weird\nkind of calculation whereby she put certain events in juxtaposition to\none another: the departure of Gaston de Stainville, for he had told\nher that he was prepared to go to Scotland whether she helped him in\nhis expedition or not: then Irene would be temporarily free, almost a\nwidow since Gaston's return under those circumstances would have been\nmore than problematical; and now milor calmly expressing the\ndetermination to quit Versailles, and to give away his chateau and\nlands of Vincennes, forsooth, as a sop to the forsaken wife, whilst\nMadame de Stainville's provocative attitude this morning more than\nbore out this conclusion.\n\nLydie felt as if every drop of blood in her body rushed up violently\nto her cheeks, which suddenly blazed with anger, whilst his, at her\nsuggestion, had become a shade more pale.\n\n\"I am free to suppose, milor, that Madame de Stainville has something\nto do with your sudden decision!\" she said haughtily; \"therefore,\nbelieve me, I have no longer a wish to combat it. As the welfare of\nFrance, the work which I have in hand, interests you so little, I will\nnot trouble you by referring to such matters again. By all means place\nyour resignation in His Majesty's hands. I understand that you desire\nto be free. I only hope that you will assist me in not washing too\nmuch of our matrimonial linen in public. I have many enemies and I\nmust refuse to allow your whims and fantasies to annihilate the fruits\nof my past labours, for the good of my country. I will confer with\nMonsieur le Duc, my father; you will hear my final decision from him.\"\n\nShe turned once more toward the door. He had not spoken one word in\ninterruption, as with a harsh and trenchant voice she thus hurled\ninsult upon insult at him. She only saw that he looked very pale,\nalthough his face seemed to her singularly expressionless: whilst she\nherself was conscious of such unendurable agony, that she feared she\nmust betray it in the quiver of her mouth, and the tears which\nthreatened to come to her eyes.\n\nWhen she ceased speaking, he bowed quite stiffly, but made no sign of\nwishing to defend himself. She left the room very hurriedly: in\nanother second and she would have broken down. Sobs were choking her,\nan intolerable anguish wrung her heartstrings to that extent, that if\nshe had had the power, she would have wounded him physically, as she\nhoped that she had done now mentally. Oh! if she had had the strength,\nif those sobs that would not be denied had not risen so persistently\nin her throat, she would have found words of such deadly outrage, as\nwould at least have stung him and made him suffer as she was suffering\nnow.\n\nThere are certain pains of the heart that are so agonizing, that only\ncruelty will assuage them. Lydie's strong, passionate nature\nperpetually held in check by the force of her great ambition and by\nher will to be masculine and firm in the great purpose of her life,\nhad for once broken through the trammels which her masterful mind had\nfashioned round it. It ran riot now in her entire being. She was\nconscious of overwhelming, of indomitable hate.\n\nWith burning eyes and trembling lips she hurried through the rooms,\nand along the interminable corridors. The flunkeys stared at her as\nshe passed, she looked so different to her usual composed and haughty\nself: her cheeks were flaming, her bosom heaving beneath the\nprimly-folded kerchief, and at intervals a curious moan-like sound\nescaped her lips.\n\nThus she reached her own study, a small square room at the extreme end\nof the West Wing, two of its walls formed an angle of the structure,\nwith great casement windows which gave on that secluded spinney, with\nits peaceful glade which she loved.\n\nAs soon as she entered the room her eyes fell on that distant beech\nplantation. A great sigh rose from her oppressed heart, for suddenly\nshe had remembered her great purpose, the one project which was\ninfinitely dear to her.\n\nThe graceful beech trees far away, with their undergrowth of bracken\nand foxgloves gleaming in the sun, recalled to her that Gaston was\nwaiting in their midst for her message to _Le Monarque_.\n\nThank God, this great joy at least was not denied her. She still had\nthe power and the will to accomplish this all-pervading object of her\nlife: the rescue of the Stuart prince from the hands of his enemies\nand from the perfidy of his whilom friends.\n\nThis thought, the recollection of her talk with Gaston, the work which\nstill remained for her to do, eased the tension of her nerves and\nstilled the agonizing pain of her heart.\n\nWith a tremendous effort of will she chased away from her mental\nvision the picture of that pale, expressionless face, which seemed to\nhaunt her. She forced herself to forget the humiliation, the\ninjustice, the affront which she had suffered to-day, and not to hear\nthe persistent echo of the deadly insults which she had uttered in\nresponse.\n\nHer study was cool and dark; heavy curtains of soft-toned lavender\nfell beside the windows, partially shutting out the glare of the\nmidday sun. Her secretaire stood in the centre of the room. She sat\ndown near it and unlocked a secret drawer. For the next quarter of an\nhour her pen flew across two sheets of paper. She had in front of her\na map of a certain portion of the West Coast of Scotland, with\ndirections and other sundry notes carefully written in the margins,\nand she was writing out the orders for the commander of _Le Monarque_\nto reach that portion of the coast as quickly as possible, to seek out\nPrince Charles Stuart, who would probably be on the look-out for a\nFrench vessel, and having got him, and as many friends of his as\naccompanied him, safely aboard, to skirt the West Coast of Ireland and\nsubsequently to reach Morlaix in Brittany, where the prince would\ndisembark.\n\nThere was nothing flustered or undetermined about her actions, she\nnever paused a moment to collect her thoughts for obedient to her will\nthey were already arrayed in perfect order in her mind: she had only\nto transfer them to paper.\n\nHaving written out the orders for Captain Barre she carefully folded\nthem, together with the map, and fastened and sealed them with the\nofficial seal of the Ministry of Finance: then she took one more sheet\nof paper and wrote in a bold clear hand:\n\n \"The bearer of this letter is sent to meet you by your\n true and faithful friends. You may trust yourself and\n those you care for unconditionally to him.\"\n\nTo this note she affixed a seal stamped with the Eglinton arms: and\nacross the words themselves she wrote the name \"Eglinton!\"\n\nThere was no reason to fear for a moment that the Stuart prince would\nhave any misgivings when he received this message of comfort and of\nhope.\n\nThen with all the papers safely tied together and hidden in the folds\nof her corselet, she once more found her way down the great staircase\nand terraces and into the beech wood where M. de Stainville awaited\nher.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nA FAREWELL\n\n\nGaston de Stainville had been sitting idly on the garden seat, vaguely\nwondering why Lydie was so long absent, ignorant of course of the\nacute crisis through which she had just passed. For the last quarter\nof an hour of this weary waiting, anxiety began to assail him.\n\nWomen were so fickle and so capricious! which remark inwardly muttered\ncame with singular inappropriateness from Gaston de Stainville. His\nkeen judgment, however, fought his apprehensions. He knew quite well\nthat Lydie was unlike other women, at once stronger and weaker than\nthose of her own sex, more firm in her purpose, less bendable in her\nobstinacy. And he knew also that nothing could occur within the\ngorgeous walls of that palace to cause her to change her mind.\n\nBut as the moments sped on, his anxiety grew apace. He no longer could\nsit still, and began walking feverishly up and down the little glade,\nlike an animal caged within limits too narrow for its activity. He\ndared not wander out of the wood, lest she should return and, not\nfinding him there, think at once of doubting.\n\nThus when she once more appeared before him, he was not so calm as he\nwould have wished, nor yet so keen in noting the subtle, indefinable\nchange which had come over her entire personality. Desirous of masking\nhis agitation, he knelt when she approached, and thus took the packet\nfrom her hand.\n\nThe action struck her as theatrical, her mind being filled with\nanother picture, that of a man motionless and erect, with pale,\nexpressionless face, which yet had meant so much more of reality to\nher.\n\nAnd because of this theatricality in Gaston's attitude, she lost\nsomething of the fullness of joy of this supreme moment. She ought to\nhave been happier, more radiant with hope for the future and with\ngratitude to him. She tried to say something enthusiastic, something\nmore in keeping with the romance of this sudden and swift departure,\nthe prospective ride to Le Havre, the spirit of self-sacrifice and\ncourage which caused him to undertake this task, so different to his\nusual avocation of ease and luxury.\n\n\"I pray you, Gaston,\" she said, \"guard the packet safely, and use your\nbest endeavours to reach Le Havre ere the night hath yielded to a new\ndawn.\"\n\nShe could not say more just now, feeling that if she added words of\nencouragement or of praise, they would not ring true, and would seem\nas artificial as his posture at her feet.\n\n\"I will guard the packet with my life,\" he said earnestly, \"and if\nperchance you wake to-night from dreams of the unfortunate prince,\nwhom your devotion will save from death, send one thought wandering\nfar away across the rich fields of Normandy, for they will be behind\nme by that time, and I will sight the port of Le Havre long before its\nchurch spires are tipped with gold.\"\n\n\"God speed you then!\" she rejoined. \"I'll not detain you!\"\n\nShe chided herself for her coldness, noting that Gaston on the other\nhand seemed aglow now with excitement, as he unbuttoned his coat and\nslipped the papers into an inner pocket. Then he sprang to his feet\nand seemed ready to go.\n\nJust at the moment of actual parting, when he asked for her hand to\nkiss, and she, giving it to him felt his lips trembling on her\nfingers, some measure of his excitement communicated itself to her,\nand she repeated more warmly:\n\n\"God speed you, Gaston, and farewell!\"\n\n\"God bless you, Lydie, for this trust which you have deigned to place\nin me! Two days hence at even I shall have returned. Where shall I see\nyou then?\"\n\n\"In my study. Ask for an audience. I will see that it is granted.\"\n\nThe next moment he had gone; she saw the rich purple of his coat\ngradually vanish behind the tall bracken. Even then she had no\nmisgivings. She thought that she had done right, and that she had\ntaken the only course by which she could ensure the safety of the\nStuart prince, to whom France, whom she guided through the tortuous\npaths of diplomacy, and for whose honour she felt herself to be\nprimarily responsible, had pledged her word and her faith.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nROYAL THANKS\n\n\nIn one of the smaller rooms of the palace of Trianon, His Majesty King\nLouis XV received M. le Comte de Stainville in private audience.\nMadame la Marquise de Pompadour was present. She sat in an armchair,\nclose beside the one occupied by His Majesty, her dainty feet resting\non a footstool, her hand given up to her royal patron, so that he\nmight occasionally imprint a kiss upon it.\n\nGaston de Stainville sat on a tabouret at a respectful distance. He\nhad in his hand a letter with a seal attached to it and a map, which\nhad a number of notes scribbled in the margin. His Majesty seemed in a\nsuperlatively good humour, and sat back in his chair, his fat body\nshaking now and again with bursts of merriment.\n\n\"Eh! eh! this gallant Count!\" he said jovially, \"par ma foi! to think\nthat the minx deceived us and our Court all these years, with her prim\nways and prudish manner. Even Her Majesty the Queen looks upon Madame\nLydie as a pattern of all the virtues.\"\n\nHe leaned forward and beckoned to Gaston to draw his chair nearer.\n\n\"Voyons, M. le Comte,\" continued Louis with a humorous leer, \"there is\nno need for quite so much discretion. We are all friends together\n. . . eh? Tell us how you did it.\"\n\nGaston de Stainville did draw his chair nearer to His Majesty, such a\nproffered honour was not to be ignored. His face wore an air of\nprovocative discretion and a fatuous smile curled his sensual lips.\n\n\"Nay,\" he said unctuously, \"your Majesty who is _galant homme_ par\nexcellence will deign to grant me leave to keep inviolate the secret\nof how I succeeded in breaking through the barrier of prudery, set up\nby the most unapproachable woman in France. Enough that I did succeed:\nand that I have been made thrice happy by being allowed to place the\nresult, with mine own hands, at the feet of the most adored of her\nsex.\"\n\nAnd with an elegant and graceful flourish of the arm, he rose from his\ntabouret and immediately dropped on one knee at Madame's feet,\noffering her the letter and the map which he held. She took them from\nhim, regarding him with a smile, which fortunately the amorous but\nhighly jealous monarch failed to see; he had just taken the papers\nfrom Pompadour and was gloating over their contents.\n\n\"You had best see M. le Duc d'Aumont at once,\" said His Majesty with a\nquick return to gravity, as soon as Gaston de Stainville had once more\nresumed his seat. \"Go back to the palace now, Monsieur le Comte,\nMadame will allow you to take her chair, and then by using our own\nprivate entrance on the South side, you will avoid being seen from the\nWest Wing. Needless to say, I hope, that discretion and wariness must\nbe your watchword until the affair is brought to a successful\nconclusion.\"\n\nGaston de Stainville bent himself nearly double, and placed one hand\nthere, where his heart was supposed to be, all in token that he would\nbe obedient to the letter and the spirit of every royal command.\n\n\"We do not think,\" said Louis, with somewhat forced carelessness,\n\"that our subjects need know anything about this transaction.\"\n\n\"Certainly not, Sire,\" rejoined De Stainville most emphatically,\nwhilst Madame too nodded very decisively.\n\n\"Most people have strange ideas about politics and diplomacy,\"\ncontinued the King. \"Just as if those complicated arts could be\nconducted on lines of antiquated mediaeval codes: therefore the whole\nbusiness must be kept between our three selves now present, M. le\nComte, and of course M. le Duc d'Aumont, who has helped us throughout,\nand without whom we could not now proceed.\"\n\n\"I quite understand, Sire,\" assented Gaston.\n\n\"We are of course presuming that your happy influence over Madame\nLydie will not cease with her giving you those papers,\" said Louis\nwith another of his unpleasant leers.\n\n\"I think not your Majesty.\"\n\n\"She will hold her tongue, I should imagine . . . for very obvious\nreasons,\" said Madame with a malicious sneer.\n\n\"Anyhow you had best make our recommendations known to Monsieur le Duc\nd'Aumont. Tell him that we suggest not relying on _Le Monarque_ even\nthough she be ready to put to sea, as her commander may be, for aught\nwe know a secret adherent of the Stuart. We should not care to trust\nhim, since the Eglintons seem to have been already to do so. A delay\nof five or six days while _Le Levantin_ is being commissioned is\nbetter than the taking of any risk. Though we are doing nothing that\nwe are ashamed of,\" added Louis the Well-beloved airily, \"we have no\nwish that the matter be bruited abroad, lest we be misunderstood.\"\n\nWe must suppose that Monsieur le Comte de Stainville had been denied\nat his birth the saving gift of a sense of humour, for in reply to\nthis long tirade from the King, he said quite seriously and\nemphatically:\n\n\"Your Majesty need not be under the slightest apprehension. Neither M.\nle Duc d'Aumont, I feel sure, nor I myself will in any way endanger\nthe absolute secrecy of the transaction, lest we be misunderstood. As\nfor Madame Lydie . . .\" He paused a moment, whilst carefully examining\nhis well-trimmed nails: a smile, wherein evil intent now fought with\nfatuity, played round the corners of his lips. \"Madame Lydie will also\nhold her tongue,\" he concluded quietly.\n\n\"That is well!\" assented the King. \"M. le Duc d'Aumont will see to the\nrest. In five or six days, _Le Levantin_ should be ready. Her secret\norders have been drafted and already bear our royal signature. Now\nwith this map and directions, and the private note for the Stuart, all\nso kindly furnished by Madame Lydie, the expedition should be easy,\nand above all quite swift. The sooner the affair is concluded and the\nmoney paid over, the less likelihood there is of our subjects getting\nwind thereof. We must stipulate, M. le Comte, since you are the\nyoungest partner in this undertaking and the least prominent in the\npublic eye, that you take the secret orders yourself to _Le Levantin_.\nWe should not feel safe if they were in any one else's hands.\"\n\n\"I thank your Majesty for this trust.\"\n\n\"For this special task, and for your work this afternoon, you shall be\nrewarded with two out of the fifteen millions promised by His Grace of\nCumberland. M. le Duc d'Aumont will receive three, whilst we shall\nhave the honour and pleasure of laying the remainder at the feet of\nMadame la Marquise de Pompadour.\"\n\nHe cast an amorous glance at Madame, who promptly rewarded him with a\ngracious smile.\n\n\"I think that is all which we need say for the present M. le Comte,\"\nconcluded His Majesty; \"within six days from now you should be on your\nway to Brest where _Le Levantin_ should by then be waiting her orders\nand ready to put to sea. A month later, if wind, weather and\ncircumstances favour us, that young adventurer will have been handed\nover to the English authorities and we, who had worked out the\ndifficult diplomatic problems so carefully, will have shared between\nus the English millions.\"\n\nWith his habitual airy gesture, Louis now intimated that the audience\nwas at an end. He was obviously more highly elated than he cared to\nshow before Gaston, and was longing to talk over plans and projects\nfor future pleasures and extravagances with the fair Marquise. Madame,\nwho had the knack of conveying a great deal by a look, succeeded in\nintimating to Gaston that she would gladly have availed herself a\nlittle longer of his pleasant company, but that royal commands must\nprevail.\n\nGaston therefore rose and kissed each hand, as it was graciously\nextended to him.\n\n\"We are pleased with what you have done, Monsieur le Comte,\" said the\nKing as M. de Stainville finally took his leave, \"but tell me,\" he\nwhispered slily, \"did the unapproachable Lydie yield with the first\nkiss, or did she struggle much? . . . eh? . . . B-r-r . . . my dear\nComte, are your lips not frozen by contact with such an icicle?\"\n\n\"Nay, your Majesty! all icicles are bound to melt sooner or later!\"\nsaid Gaston de Stainville with a smile which--had Lydie seen it--would\nhave half killed her with shame.\n\nAnd with that same smile of fatuity still lurking round his lips, he\nbowed himself out of the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nPATERNAL ANXIETY\n\n\nM. le Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of His Majesty King Louis XV of\nFrance, was exceedingly perturbed. He had just had two separate\ninterviews, each of half an hour's duration, and he was now busy\ntrying to dissociate what his daughter had told him in the first\ninterview, from that which M. de Stainville had imparted to him in the\nsecond. And he was not succeeding.\n\nThe two sets of statements seemed inextricably linked together.\n\nLydie, certainly had been very strange and agitated in her manner,\ntotally unlike herself: but this mood of course, though so very\nunusual in her, did not astonish M. le Duc so much, once he realized\nits cause.\n\nIt was the cause which was so singularly upsetting.\n\nMilor Eglinton, his son-in-law, had sent in his resignation as\nComptroller-General of Finance, and this without giving any reason for\nso sudden and decisive a step. At any rate Lydie herself professed to\nbe ignorant of milor's motives for this extraordinary line of action\nas she was of his future purpose. All she knew--or all that she cared\nto tell her father--was that her husband had avowedly the intention of\ndeserting her: he meant to quit Versailles immediately, thus vacating\nhis post without a moment's notice, and leaving his wife, whom he had\nallowed to conduct all State affairs for him for over a year, to\nextricate herself, out of a tangle of work and an anomalous position,\nas best she might.\n\nThe only suggestion which milor had cared to put forward, with regard\nto her future, was that he was about to make her a free gift of his\nchateau and lands of Vincennes, the yearly revenues of which were\nclose upon a million livres. This gift she desired not to accept.\n\nIn spite of strenuous and diplomatic efforts on his part, M. le Duc\nd'Aumont had been unable to obtain any further explanation of these\nextraordinary events from his daughter. Lydie had no intention\nwhatever of deceiving her father and she had given him what she\nbelieved to be a perfectly faithful _expose_ of the situation. All\nthat she had kept back from him was the immediate cause of the grave\nmisunderstanding between herself and her husband, and we must do her\nthe justice to state that she did not think that this was relevant to\nthe ultimate issue.\n\nMoreover, she was more than loath to mention the Stuart prince and his\naffairs again before M. le Duc. She knew that he was not in sympathy\nwith her over this matter and she dreaded to know with absolute\ncertainty that there was projected treachery afoot, and that he\nperhaps would have a hand in it. What Gaston de Stainville had\nconjectured, had seen and overheard, what she herself had guessed, was\nnot to her mind quite conclusive as far as her father's share in the\nscheme was concerned.\n\nShe was deeply attached to her father, and her heart found readily\nenough a sufficiency of arguments which exonerated him from actual\nparticipation in such wanton perfidy. At any rate in this instance she\nchose ignorance rather than heartrending certainty, and as by her\nquick action and Gaston's timely and unexpected help, the actual\ntreachery would be averted, she preferred to dismiss her father's\nproblematical participation in it entirely from her mind.\n\nThus she told him nothing of milor's attitude with regard to the Duke\nof Cumberland's letter; in fact, she never once referred to the letter\nor to the Young Pretender; she merely gave M. le Duc to understand\nthat her husband seemed desirous of living his future life altogether\napart from hers.\n\nM. le Duc d'Aumont was sorely disquieted: two eventualities presented\nthemselves before him, and both were equally distasteful. One was the\nscandal which would of necessity spread around his daughter's name the\nmoment her matrimonial differences with her husband became generally\nknown. M. le Duc d'Aumont was too well acquainted with this Court of\nVersailles not to realize that Lydie's position, as a neglected wife,\nwould subject her to a series of systematic attentions, which she\ncould but regard in the light of insults.\n\nOn the other hand M. le Duc could not even begin to think of having to\nforego his daughter's help in the various matters relating to his own\nadministration. He had been accustomed for some years now to consult\nher in all moments of grave crises, to rely on her judgment, on her\nable guidance, worth ten thousand times more to him than an army of\nmasculine advisers.\n\nIn spite of the repeated sneers hurled at this era of \"petticoat\ngovernment,\" Lydie had been of immense service to him, and if she were\nsuddenly to be withdrawn from his official life, he would feel very\nlike Louis XIII had done on that memorable Journee des Dupes, when\nRichelieu left him for twenty-four hours to conduct the affairs of\nState alone. He would not have known where to begin.\n\nBut Lydie told him that her decision was irrevocable, or what was more\nto the point, milor had left her no alternative: his resignation was\nby now in His Majesty's hands, and he had not even suggested that\nLydie should accompany him, when he quitted Versailles, in order to\ntake up life as a private gentleman.\n\nIt was all very puzzling and very difficult. M. le Duc d'Aumont\nstrongly deprecated the idea of his daughter vacating her official\npost, because of this sudden caprice of milor. He had need of her, and\nso had France, and the threads of national business could not be\nsnapped in a moment. The post of Comptroller-General of Finance could\nremain in abeyance for awhile. After that one would see.\n\nThen with regard to the proposed gifts of the chateau and revenues of\nVincennes, M. le Duc d'Aumont would not hear of a refusal. Madame la\nMarquise d'Eglinton must have a private establishment worthy of her\nrank, and an occasional visit from milor would help to keep up an\noutward appearance of decorum, and to throw dust in the eyes of the\nscandal-mongers.\n\nThe interview with his daughter had upset M. le Duc d'Aumont very\nconsiderably. The whole thing had been so unexpected: it was difficult\nto imagine his usually so impassive and yielding son-in-law displaying\nany initiative of his own. M. le Duc was still puzzling over the\nsituation when M. le Comte de Stainville, specially recommended by His\nMajesty himself, asked for a private audience.\n\nAnd the next half-hour plunged M. le Duc into a perfect labyrinth of\nsurmises, conjectures, doubts and fears. That Gaston de Stainville was\npossessed not only of full knowledge with regard to the Stuart\nprince's hiding-place, but also of a letter in Lydie's handwriting,\naddressed to the prince and sealed with her private seal, was\nsufficiently astonishing in itself, but the young man's thinly veiled\ninnuendoes, his fatuous smiles, his obvious triumph, literally\nstaggered M. le Duc, even though his palm itched with longing for\ncontact with the insolent braggart's cheek. Every one of his beliefs\nwas being forcibly uprooted; his daughter whom he had thought so\nunapproachable, so pure and so loyal! who had this very morning shamed\nhim by her indignation at the very thought of this treachery, which\nshe now so completely condoned! that she should have renounced her\nopinions, her enthusiasm for the sake of a man who had already\nbetrayed her once, was more than M. le Duc could and would believe at\nfirst.\n\nYet the proofs were before him at this very moment. They had been\nplaced in his hand by Gaston de Stainville: the map with the marginal\nnotes, which Lydie had so often refused to show even to her own\nfather, and the letter in her handwriting with the bold signature\nright across the contents, bidding the unfortunate young prince trust\nthe traitor who would deliver him into the hands of his foes.\n\nBut M. le Duc would have had to be more than human not to be satisfied\nin a measure at the result of Gaston de Stainville's diplomacy; he\nstood in for a goodly share of the millions promised by England. But\nit was the diplomacy itself which horrified him. He had vainly tried\nto dissuade Lydie from chivalrous and misguided efforts on behalf of\nthe young prince, or at any rate from active interference, if His\nMajesty had plans other than her own; but whilst she had rejected his\nmerest suggestions on that subject with unutterable contempt, she had\nnot only listened to Gaston de Stainville, but actually yielded her\nwill and her enthusiasms to his pleadings.\n\nM. le Duc sighed when he thought it all out. Though Lydie had done\nexactly what he himself wanted her to do, he hated the idea that she\nshould have done it because Gaston de Stainville had persuaded her.\n\nLater on in the afternoon when an excellently cooked dinner had\nsoftened his mood, he tried to put together the various pieces of the\nmental puzzle which confronted him.\n\nGaston de Stainville had obtained a certain ascendancy over Lydie, and\nLydie had irretrievably quarrelled with her husband. Milor was\ndetermined to quit Versailles immediately; Lydie was equally bent on\nnot relinquishing her position yet. Gaston de Stainville was obviously\ntriumphant and somewhat openly bragged of his success, whilst milor\nkept to his own private apartments, and steadily forbade his door to\nevery one.\n\nIt was indeed a very difficult problem for an indulgent father to\nsolve. Fortunately for his own peace of mind, M. le Duc d'Aumont was\nnot only indulgent to his own daughter whom he adored, but also to\nevery one of her sex. He was above all a _preux chevalier_, who held\nthat women were beings of exceptional temperament, not to be judged by\nthe same standards as the coarser fibred male creatures; their beauty,\ntheir charm, the pleasure they afforded to the rest of mankind, placed\nthem above criticism or even comment.\n\nAnd of course Lydie was very beautiful . . . and milor a fool . . .\nand . . . Gaston. . . . Well! who could blame Gaston?\n\nAnd it was most amazingly lucky that Lydie had given up her absurd\nideas about that Stuart prince, and had thus helped those English\nmillions to find their way comfortably across the Channel, into the\npockets of His Majesty the King of France, and of one or two others,\nincluding her own doting father.\n\nAnd after that M. le Duc d'Aumont gave up worrying any more about the\nmatter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE QUEEN'S SOIREE\n\n\nWhat chronicler of true events will ever attempt to explain exactly\nhow rumour succeeds in breaking through every bond with which privacy\nwould desire to fetter her, and having obtained a perch on the\nswiftest of all currents of air, travels through infinite space, and\nanon, observing a glaringly public spot wherein to alight, she\ndescends with amazing rapidity and mingles with the crowd.\n\nThus with the news anent milor Eglinton's resignation of the General\nControl of Finance.\n\nBy the time the Court assembled that evening for the Queen's\nreception, every one had heard of it, and also that milor, having had\na violent quarrel with his wife, had quitted or was about to quit\nVersailles without further warning.\n\nThe news was indeed exceedingly welcome. Not from any ill-will toward\nLord Eglinton, of course, who was very popular with the ladies and\nmore than tolerated by the men, nor from any sense of triumph over\nMadame Lydie, although she had not quite so many friends as milor, but\nbecause it happened to be Thursday, and every Thursday Her Majesty the\nQueen held her Court from seven o'clock till nine o'clock: which\nfunction was so deadly dull, that there was quite an epidemic of\ndislocated jaws--caused by incessant yawning--among the favoured few\nwho were both privileged and obliged to attend. A piece of real\ngossip, well-authenticated, and referring to a couple so highly\nplaced as Lord and Lady Eglinton, was therefore a great boon. Even Her\nMajesty could not fail to be interested, as Lydie had always stood\nvery highly in the good graces of the prim and melancholy Queen,\nwhilst milor was one of that very small and very select circle which\nthe exalted lady honoured with her conversation on public occasions.\n\nNow on this same Thursday evening, Queen Marie Leszcynska entered her\nthrone-room precisely at seven o'clock. Madame Lydie was with her as\nshe entered, and it was at once supposed that Her Majesty was already\nacquainted with Lord Eglinton's decision, for she conversed with the\nneglected wife with obvious kindliness and sympathy.\n\nHis Majesty was expected in about a quarter of an hour. As Madame de\nPompadour and her immediate entourage were excluded from these solemn\nfunctions, the King showed his disapproval of the absence of his\nfriends by arriving as late as etiquette allowed, and by looking on at\nthe presentations, and other paraphernalia of his wife's receptions,\nin morose and silent _ennui_.\n\nThis evening, however, the proceedings were distinctly enlivened by\nthat subtle and cheerful breath of scandal, which hovered all over the\nroom. Whilst noble dowagers presented debutante daughters to Her\nMajesty, and grave gentlemen explained to fledgling sons how to make a\nfirst bow to the King, groups of younger people congregated in distant\ncorners, well away from the royal dais and discussed the great news of\nthe day.\n\nLydie did not mingle with these groups. In addition to her many other\ndignities and functions, she was Grande Marechale de la Cour to Queen\nMarie Leszcynska and on these solemn Thursday evenings her place was\nbeside Her Majesty, and her duty to present such ladies of high rank\nwho had either just arrived at Court from the country or who, for some\nother reason, had not yet had the honour of a personal audience.\n\nChief among these reasons was the Queen's own exclusiveness. The proud\ndaughter of Stanislaus of Poland with her semi-religious education,\nher narrow outlook on life, her unfortunate experience of matrimony,\nhad a wholesome horror of the frisky matrons and flirtatious minxes\nwhom Louis XIV's taste had brought into vogue at the Court of France;\nand above all, she had an unconquerable aversion for the various\nscions of that mushroom nobility dragged from out the gutter by the\ncatholic fancies of le Roi Soleil.\n\nThough she could not help but receive some of these people at the\nmonster Court functions, which the elaborate and rigid etiquette of\nthe time imposed upon her, and whereat all the tatterdemalions that\nhad e'er filched a handle for their name had, by that same unwritten\ndictum, the right of entry, she always proudly refused subsequently to\nrecognize in private a presentation to herself, unless it was made by\nher special leave, at one of her own intimate audiences, and through\nthe mediation either of her own Grande Marechale de la Cour, or of one\nof her privileged lady friends.\n\nThus Madame la Comtesse de Stainville, though formally presented at\nthe general Court by virtue of her husband's title and position, had\nnever had the honour of an invitation to Her Majesty's private\nthrone-room. Queen Marie had heard vague rumours anent the early\nreputation of \"la belle brune de Bordeaux\"; this very nick-name,\nfreely bandied about, grated on her puritanic ear. Irene de\nStainville, chafing under the restrictions which placed her on a level\nwith the Pompadours of the present and the Montespans or La Vallieres\nof the past, had more than once striven to enlist Lydie's help and\nprotection in obtaining one of the coveted personal introductions to\nHer Majesty.\n\nLydie, however, had always put her off with polite but ambiguous\npromises, until to-day, when her heart, overfilled with gratitude for\nGaston de Stainville, prompted her to do something which she knew must\nplease him, and thus prove to him that she was thinking of him at the\nvery time when he was risking his entire future and probably his life\nin an attempt to serve her.\n\nHer own troubles and sorrows in no way interfered with the discharge\nof her social duties. Whilst she still occupied certain official\npositions at Court, she was determined to fill them adequately and\nwith perfect dignity. A brief note to Irene de Stainville acquainted\nthe latter lady with the pleasing fact, that Madame la Grande\nMarechale would have much pleasure in introducing her personally to\nHer Majesty the Queen that very same evening, and \"la belle brune de\nBordeaux\" was therefore present at this most exclusive of all\nfunctions on Thursday, August 13, 1746, and duly awaited the happy\nmoment when she could make her curtsey before the proudest princess in\nall Europe, in the magnificent gown which had been prepared some time\nago in view of this possible and delightful eventuality.\n\nShe stood somewhat isolated from the rest of the throng, between two\nor three of her most faithful admirers, holding herself aloof from the\nfrivolity of the surrounding gossip and wearing a sphinx-like air of\ndetachment and of hidden and sorrowful knowledge.\n\nTo every comment as to the non-appearance of her lord at the soiree,\nshe had mutely replied by a slight shrug of the shoulders.\n\nUp in the gallery, behind a screen of exotic plants, the band of\nmusicians was playing one of M. Lulli's most famous compositions, the\nbeautiful motet in E flat which, alone amongst the works of that\nmaster of melody, was sufficiently serious and sedate for the Queen's\ntaste. Anon Her Majesty gave the signal that dancing might begin. She\nliked to watch it, if it was decorously performed, though she never\njoined in it herself. Therefore a measured and stately gavotte was\ndanced by the young people every Thursday, and perhaps a majestic\npavane afterward. But the minuet was thought unbecoming. Her Majesty\nsat in one of the heavy gilded chairs underneath the canopy, the other\nbeing reserved for King Louis.\n\nLydie watched the gavotte with dreamy, abstracted eyes; every now and\nthen the Queen spoke to her, and the force of habit caused her to\nreply coherently and with that formality of expression, which Her\nMajesty liked to hear. But her mind was very far from her\nsurroundings. It was accompanying Gaston de Stainville on his reckless\nride through the rich plains of Normandy; her wishes sped him on his\nway, her gratitude for his noble self-sacrifice would have guarded him\nfrom the perils of the road.\n\nThe monotonous tune of the gavotte with its distinct and sharply\ndefined beat, sounded to her like the measured clink of a horse's\nhoofs on rough hard ground. She was quite unconscious that, from every\ncorner of the room, inquisitive and sarcastic eyes were watching all\nher movements.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nGOSSIP\n\n\nWhilst the younger people danced, the older ones gossiped, and the\nabsence of any known facts rendered the gossip doubly interesting.\n\nThere was one group most especially so engaged; at the further corner\nof the room, and with sixteen dancing pairs intervening between it and\nthe royal dais, there was little fear of Her Majesty overhearing any\nfrivolous comments on the all-absorbing topic of the day, or of Madame\nLydie herself being made aware of their existence.\n\nHere Madame de la Beaume, a young and pretty matron, possessed of a\ngood-looking husband who did not trouble her much with his company,\nwas the centre of a gaily cackling little crowd, not unlike an\nassemblage of geese beside a stream at eventide. Young M. de Louvois\nwas there and the old Duchesse de Pontchartrain, also M. Crebillon,\nthe most inveterate scandal-monger of his time, and several others.\n\nThey all talked in whispers, glad that the music drowned every echo of\nthis most enjoyable conversation.\n\n\"I have it from my coiffeur, whose son was on duty in an adjacent\nroom, that there was a violent quarrel between them,\" said Madame de\nla Beaume with becoming mystery. \"The man says that Madame Lydie\nscreamed and raged for half an hour, then flew out of the room and\nalong the passages like one possessed.\"\n\n\"These English are very peculiar people,\" said M. Crebillon\nsententiously. \"I have it on M. de Voltaire's own authority that\nEnglish husbands always beat their wives, and he spent some\nconsiderable time in England recently studying their manners and\ncustoms.\"\n\n\"We may take it for granted that milor Eglinton, though partly\ncivilized through his French parentage, hath retained some of his\nnative brutality,\" added another cavalier gravely.\n\n\"And it is quite natural that Madame Lydie would not tolerate his\ntreatment of her,\" concluded the old Duchess.\n\n\"Ah!\" sighed Madame de la Beaume pathetically, \"I believe that English\nhusbands beat their wives only out of jealousy. At least, so I have\nbeen told, whereas ours are too often unfaithful to feel any such\nviolent and uncomfortable pangs.\"\n\n\"Surely,\" quoth young M. de Louvois, casting an admiring glance at\nMadame's bold decolletage, \"you would not wish M. de la Beaume to lay\nhands on those beautiful shoulders.\"\n\n\"Heu! heu!\" nodded Madame enigmatically.\n\nM. Crebillon cast an inquisitorial look at Madame de Stainville, who\nwas standing close by.\n\n\"Nay! from what I hear,\" he said mysteriously, \"milor Eglinton had\nquite sufficient provocation for his jealousy, and like an Englishman\nhe availed himself of the privileges which the customs of his own\ncountry grant him, and he frankly beat his wife.\"\n\nEvery one rallied round him, for he seemed to have fuller details than\nany one else, and Madame de la Beaume whispered eagerly:\n\n\"You mean M. de Stainville. . . .\"\n\n\"Hush--sh--sh,\" interrupted the old Duchess quickly, \"here comes\nmiladi.\"\n\nThe Dowager Marchioness of Eglinton, \"miladi,\" as she was always\ncalled, was far too shrewd and too well versed in the manners and\ncustoms of her friends not to be fully aware of the gossip that was\ngoing on all round the room. Very irate at having been kept in\nignorance of the facts which had caused her son's sudden decision, and\nLydie's strange attitude, she was nevertheless determined that,\nwhatever scandal was being bruited abroad, it should prove primarily\nto the detriment of her daughter-in-law's reputation.\n\nTherefore, whenever, to-night, she noted groups congregated in\ncorners, and conversations being obviously carried on in whispers, she\nboldly approached and joined in the gossip, depositing a poisoned\nshaft here and there with great cleverness, all the more easily as it\nwas generally supposed that she knew a great deal more than she cared\nto say.\n\n\"Nay! I beg of you, Mesdames and Messieurs,\" she now said quite\ncheerfully, \"do not let me interrupt your conversation. Alas! do I not\nknow its subject? . . . My poor son cannot be to blame in the\nunfortunate affair. Lydie, though she may be wholly innocent in the\nmatter, is singularly obstinate.\"\n\n\"Then you really think that?----\" queried Madame de la Beaume eagerly,\nand then paused, half afraid that she had said too much.\n\n\"Alas! what can I say?\" rejoined miladi with a sigh. \"I was brought up\nin the days when we women were taught obedience to our husband's\nwishes.\"\n\n\"Madame Lydie was not like to have learnt the first phrase of that\nwholesome lesson,\" quoth M. de Louvois with a smile.\n\n\"Exactly, cher Monsieur,\" assented miladi, as she sailed majestically\non to another group.\n\n\"What did miladi mean exactly?\" asked M. Crebillon.\n\n\"Oh! she is so kind-hearted, such an angel!\" sighed pretty Madame de\nla Beaume, \"she wanted to palliate Madame Lydie's conduct by\nsuggesting that milor merely desired to forbid her future intercourse\nwith M. de Stainville. . . . I have heard that version of the quarrel\nalready, but I must own that it bears but little resemblance to truth.\nWe all know that so simple a request would not have led to a really\nserious breach between milor and his wife.\"\n\n\"It was more than that, of course, or milor would not have beaten\nher,\" came in unanswerable logic from M. Crebillon.\n\n\"Hush--sh--sh!\" admonished the old Duchess, \"here comes His Majesty.\"\n\n\"He looks wonderfully good-humoured,\" said Madame de la Beaume, \"and\ndoth not wear at all his usual Thursday's scowl.\"\n\n\"Then we may all be sure, Mesdames and Messieurs,\" said the\nirrepressible Crebillon, \"that rumour hath not lied again.\"\n\n\"What rumour?\"\n\n\"You have not heard?\"\n\n\"No!\" came from half a dozen eager and anxious lips.\n\n\"They say that His Majesty the King of France has agreed to deliver\nthe Chevalier de Saint George to the English in consideration of a\nlarge sum of money.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\"\n\n\"That cannot be true!\"\n\n\"My valet had it from Monsieur de Stainville's man,\" protested M.\nCrebillon, \"and he declares the rumour true.\"\n\n\"A King of France would never do such a thing.\"\n\n\"A palpable and clumsy lie!\"\n\nAnd the same people, who, five minutes ago, had hurled the mud of\nscandal at the white robes of an exceptionally high-minded and\nvirtuous woman, recoiled with horror at the thought of any of it\nclinging to the person of that fat and pompous man, whom an evil fate\nhad placed on the throne of France.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nTHE FIRST DOUBT\n\n\nHis Majesty certainly looked far less bored than he usually did on his\nroyal consort's reception evenings. He entered the room with a\ngood-natured smile on his face, which did not leave him, even whilst\nhe kissed the frigid Queen's hand, and nodded to her entourage, every\none of whom he cordially detested.\n\nBut when he caught sight of Lydie, he positively beamed at her, and\nastonished all the scandal-mongers by the surfeit of attentions which\nhe bestowed on her. Directly after he had paid his respects to his\nwife and received the young scions of ancient aristocratic houses,\nthat were being presented to him, he turned with great alacrity to\nLydie and engaged her in close conversation.\n\n\"Will you honour us by stepping the pavane with us, Marquise?\" he\nasked in sugary tones. \"Alas! our dancing days should be over, yet par\nma foi! we could yet tread another measure beside the tiniest feet in\nFrance.\"\n\nLydie would perhaps have been taken aback at the King's superlative\namiability, but instinctively her mind reverted to the many occasions\nwhen he had thus tried to win her good graces, in the hope of\nobtaining concessions of money from the virtual chief of the\nDepartment of Finance. She saw that inquisitive eyes were watching her\nover-keenly as--unable to refuse the King's invitation--she placed a\nreluctant hand in his, and took her position beside him for the\nopening of the pavane.\n\nShe was essentially graceful even in the studied stiffness of her\nmovements; a stiffness which she had practised and then made entirely\nher own, and which was somehow expressive of the unbendable hauteur of\nher moral character.\n\nThe stately pavane suited the movements of her willowy figure, which\nappeared quite untrammelled, easy and full of spring, even within the\nnarrow confines of the fashionable corslet. She was dressed in white\nto-night and her young shoulders looked dazzling and creamy beside the\nmatt tone of her brocaded gown. She never allowed the ridiculous\ncoiffure, which had lately become the mode, to hide entirely the glory\nof her own chestnut hair, and its rich, warm colour gleamed through\nthe powder, scantily sprinkled over it by an artist's hand.\n\nShe had not forgotten even for a moment the serious events of this\nnever-to-be-forgotten day; but amongst the many memories which crowded\nin upon her, as, with slow step she trod the grave measure of the\ndance, none was more vivid than that of her husband's scorn, when he\nspoke of her own hand resting in that of the treacherous and\nperfidious monarch, who would have sold his friend for money. She\nwondered how he would act if he could see her now, her fingers, very\nfrequently meeting those of King Louis during the elaborate figures of\nthe dance.\n\nStrangely enough, although everything milor had said to her at that\ninterview had merely jarred upon her mood and irritated her nerves,\nwithout seemingly carrying any conviction, yet now, when she was\nobliged to touch so often the moist, hot palm of King Louis, she felt\nsomething of that intolerable physical repugnance which her husband\nhad, as it were, brought to actuality by the vigour of his\nsuggestions.\n\nOtherwise she took little heed of her surroundings. During the\npreliminary movement of the dance, the march past, with its quaint,\nartificial gestures and steps and the slow majesty of its music, she\ncould not help seeing the looks of malevolent curiosity, of satisfied\nchildish envy, and of sarcastic triumph which were levelled at her\nfrom every corner of the room.\n\nThe special distinction bestowed on her by the King--who as a rule\nnever danced at his wife's soirees--seemed in the minds of all these\ngossip-lovers to have confirmed the worst rumours, anent the cause of\nLord Eglinton's unexpected resignation. His Majesty did not suffer\nlike his wife from an unconquerable horror of frisky matrons; on the\ncontrary, his abhorrence was chiefly directed against the starchy\ndowagers and the prudish _devotes_ who formed the entourage of the\nQueen. The fact that he distinguished Lydie to-night so openly, showed\nthat he no longer classed her among the latter.\n\n\"His Majesty hath at last found a kindred spirit in the unapproachable\nMarchioness,\" was the universal comment, which thoroughly satisfied\nthe most virulent disseminator of ill-natured scandal.\n\nLydie knew enough of Court life to guess what would be said. Up to now\nshe had been happily free from Louis's compromising flatteries, save\nat such times when he required money, but his attentions went no\nfurther--and they invariably ceased the moment he had obtained all\nthat he wanted. But to-night he was unswerving in his adulation; and,\nin the brief pause between the second and third movement of the dance,\nhe contrived to whisper in her ear:\n\n\"Ah, Madame! how you shame your King! Shall we ever be able to\nadequately express the full measure of our gratitude?\"\n\n\"Gratitude, Sire?\" she murmured, somewhat bewildered and rather\ncoldly, \"I do not understand . . . why gratitude?\"\n\n\"You are modest, Madame, as well as brave and good,\" he rejoined,\ntaking one more opportunity of raising her hand to his lips. He had\nsucceeded in gradually leading her into a window embrasure, somewhat\naway from the rest of the dancers. He did not admire the statuesque\ngrace of Lydie in the least, and had always secretly sneered at her,\nfor her masculine strength of will and the rigidity of her principles,\nbut it had been impossible for any man, alive to a sense of what was\nbeautiful, not to delight in the exquisitely harmonious picture formed\nby that elegant woman, in her stiff, white brocaded gown and with her\nyoung head crowned by its wreath of ardent hair, standing out\nbrilliantly against the pale, buttercup colour of the damask curtain\nbehind her. There was nothing forced therefore in the look of\nadmiration with which the King now regarded Lydie; conscious of this,\nshe deeply resented the look, and perhaps because of it, she was not\nquite so fully alive to the hidden meaning of his words as she\notherwise might have been.\n\n\"And as beautiful as you are brave,\" added Louis unctuously. \"It is\nnot every woman who would thus have had the courage of her\nconvictions, and so openly borne witness to the trust and loyalty\nwhich she felt.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Sire,\" she said coldly and suddenly beginning to feel vaguely\npuzzled, \"I am afraid your Majesty is labouring under the\nmisapprehension, that I have recently done something to deserve\nspecial royal thanks, whereas----\"\n\n\"Whereas you have only followed the dictates of your heart,\" he\nrejoined gallantly, seeing that she had paused as if in search of a\nword, \"and shown to the sceptics in this ill-natured Court that,\nbeneath the rigid mask of iron determination, this exquisitely\nbeautiful personality hid the true instincts of adorable womanhood.\"\n\nThe musicians now struck the opening chords to the third and final\nmeasure of the pavane. There is something dreamy and almost sad in\nthis movement of the stately dance, and this melancholy is specially\naccentuated in the composition of Rameau, which the players were\nrendering with consummate art to-night. The King's unctuous words were\nstill ringing unpleasantly in Lydie's ears, when he put out his hand,\nclaiming hers for the dance.\n\nMechanically she followed him, her feet treading the measure quite\nindependently of her mind, which had gone wandering in the land of\ndreams. A vague sense of uneasiness crept slowly but surely into her\nheart, she pondered over Louis's words, not knowing what to make of\nthem, yet somehow beginning to fear them, or rather to fear that she\nmight after all succeed in understanding their full meaning. She could\nnot dismiss the certitude from her mind that he was, in some hidden\nsense, referring to the Stuart prince and his cause, when he spoke of\n\"convictions\" and of her \"courage\"; but at first she only thought that\nhe meant, in a vague way, to recall her interference of this morning,\nLord Eglinton's outburst of contempt, and her own promise to give the\nmatter serious consideration.\n\nThis in a measure re-assured her. The King's words had already become\nhazy in her memory, as she had not paid serious attention to them at\nthe time, and she gradually forced those vague fears within her to\nsubside, and even smiled at her own cowardice in scenting danger where\nnone existed.\n\nUndoubtedly that was the true reason of the rapacious monarch's\nflatteries to-night; truth to tell, her mind had been so absorbed with\nactual events, her quarrel with her husband, the departure of Gaston,\nthe proposed expedition of _Le Monarque_, that she had almost\nforgotten the promise which she had made to the King earlier in the\nday, with a view to gaining time.\n\n\"How admirably you dance, Madame,\" said King Louis, \"the poetry of\nmotion by all the saints! Ah! believe me, I cannot conquer altogether\na feeling of unutterable envy!\"\n\n\"Envy, Sire, of whom?--or of what?\" she asked, forced to keep up a\nconversation which sickened her, since etiquette did not allow her to\nremain silent if the King desired to talk. \"Methinks fate leaves your\nMajesty but little to wish for.\"\n\n\"Envy of the lucky man who obtained a certitude, whilst we had to be\ncontent with vague if gracious promises,\" he rejoined blandly.\n\nShe looked at him keenly, inquiringly, a deep line of doubt, even of\nfear now settling between her brows.\n\n\"Certitude of what, Sire?\" she asked suddenly pausing in the dance and\nturning to look him straight in the eyes. \"I humbly crave your\nMajesty's pardon, but meseems that we are at cross-purposes, and that\nyour Majesty speaks of something which I, on the other hand, do not\nunderstand.\"\n\n\"Nay! nay! then we'll not refer to the subject again,\" rejoined Louis\nwith consummate gallantry, \"for of a truth we would not wish to lose\none precious moment of this heavenly dance. Enough that you\nunderstand, Madame, that your King is grateful, and will show his\ngratitude, even though his heart burn with jealousy at the good\nfortune of another man!\"\n\nThere was no mistaking the sly leer which appeared in his eye as he\nspoke. Lydie felt her cheeks flaming up with sudden wrath; wrath,\nwhich as quickly gave way to an awful, an unconquerable horror.\n\nStill she did not suspect. Her feet once more trod the monotonous\nmeasure, but her heart beat wildly against the stiff corslet; the room\nbegan to whirl round before her eyes; a sickening sense of dizziness\nthreatened to master her. Every drop of blood had left her cheeks,\nleaving them ashen pale.\n\nShe was afraid; and the fear was all the more terrible as she could\nnot yet give it a name. But the sense of an awful catastrophe was upon\nher, impending, not yet materialized, but which would overwhelm her\ninevitably when it came.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nTHE AWFUL CERTITUDE\n\n\nThen all at once she understood!\n\nThere at the further end of the room, against the rich gold of the\ncurtain, she saw Gaston de Stainville standing beside his wife and one\nor two other women, the centre of a gaily chattering crowd, he himself\nchattering with them, laughing and jesting, whilst from time to time\nhis white and slender hand raised a gold-rimmed glass to his eye, with\na gesture of fatuity and affectation.\n\nSomething in her look, though it had only lasted a few seconds, must\nthen and there have compelled his own, for he suddenly dropped his\nglass, and their eyes met across the room; Lydie's inquiring, only\njust beginning to doubt, and fearful, as if begging for reassurance!\nhis, mocking and malicious, triumphant too and self-flattering, whilst\nla belle Irene, intercepting this exchange of glances, laughed loudly\nand shrugged her bare shoulders.\n\nLydie was not that type of woman who faints, or screams at moments of\nacute mental agony. Even now, when the full horror of what she had so\nsuddenly realized, assailed her with a crushing blow that would have\nstunned a weaker nature, she contrived to pull herself together and to\ncontinue the dance to the end. The King--beginning to feel bored in\nthe company of this silent and obviously absent-minded woman--made no\nfurther effort at conversation. She had disappointed him; for\nMonsieur le Comte de Stainville's innuendoes had led him to hope that\nthe beautiful marble statue had at last come to life and would\nhenceforth become a valuable addition to the light-hearted circle of\nfriends that rallied round him, helping to make him forget the ennui\nof his matrimonial and official life.\n\nThus the dance was concluded between them in silence. Louis was too\ndull and vapid to notice the change in his partner's attitude, the icy\ntouch of her fingers, the deathly whiteness of her lips. But presently\nhe, too, caught sight of Gaston de Stainville and immediately there\ncrept into his face that malicious leer, which awhile ago had kindled\nLydie's wrath.\n\nWhether she noted it now or not, it were difficult to say. Only a\ngreat determination kept her from making a display before all these\nindifferent eyes, of the agonizing torture of her mind and heart.\n\nWith infinite relief, she made her final curtsey to her partner, and\nallowed him to lead her back to her official place beside the royal\ndais. She could not see clearly, for her eyes had suddenly filled with\nburning tears of shame and bitter self-accusation. She bit her lips\nlest a cry of pain escaped them.\n\n\"You are ill, my dear! Come away!\"\n\nThe voice--gentle and deeply concerned--was that of her father. She\ndid not dare look at him, lest she should break down, but she allowed\nhim to lead her away from the immediate noise and glare.\n\n\"What is it, Lydie?\" queried M. le Duc again, more anxiously, as soon\nas they had reached a small and secluded alcove. \"Has anything\nfurther happened? Par Dieu, if that man has again dared . . .\"\n\n\"What man, father?\" she interrupted.\n\nHer voice had no tone in it, she wondered even if M. le Duc would\nhear, but he was talking ambiguously and she had had enough of\nmisunderstandings to-day.\n\n\"What man?\" rejoined Monsieur le Duc d'Aumont irritably. \"Your husband\nof course. I have heard rumours about his behaviour to you, and by all\nthe heathen gods . . .\"\n\nHe paused, astonished and almost awed, for Lydie had laughed suddenly,\nlaughed loudly and long, and there was such a strange ring in that\nunnatural mirth, that Monsieur le Duc feared lest excitement had been\ntoo much for his daughter's brain.\n\n\"Lydie! what is it? You must tell me . . . Lydie . . .\" he urged,\n\"listen to me . . . do you hear me, Lydie?\"\n\nShe seemed to be collecting her scattered senses now, but great sobs\nof hysterical laughter still shook her from head to foot, and she\nleaned against her father's arm almost as if she feared to fall.\n\n\"Yes, father dear,\" she said fairly coherently, \"I do hear you, and I\npray you take no heed of me. Much hath occurred to-day to disturb me\nand my nerves seem to be on the jar. Perhaps I do not see quite\nclearly either. Father, tell me,\" she added with a voice almost\nsteady, but harsh and trenchant, and with glowing eyes fixed on the\nDuke's face, \"did I perceive Gaston de Stainville in the crowd just\nnow?\"\n\n\"You may have done, my dear,\" he replied with some hesitation. \"I do\nnot know.\"\n\nShe had been quick enough to note that, at mention of Gaston's name,\nhis eyes suddenly wore a curious shamefaced expression and avoided\nmeeting her own. She pressed her point more carelessly, feeling that\nthere was something that he would only tell her, if she was perfectly\ncalm and natural in her questionings.\n\n\"Then he is here?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes . . . I believe so . . . why do you ask?\"\n\n\"I thought him gone,\" she said lightly, \"that was all. Methought there\nwas an errand he had meant to perform.\"\n\n\"Oh! there is no immediate hurry for that!\"\n\nMonsieur le Duc d'Amont, never a very keen observer, was feeling quite\nreassured by her calmer mood. His daughter had been overwrought.\nEvents had crowded in upon her, thick and fast, some of them of an\nunpleasant nature: her final surrender to Gaston de Stainville could\nnot have occurred without a wrench; sentiment--he supposed--having\nconquered friendship and loyalty, no doubt remorse had held sway for\nawhile. He certainly thought his daughter quite at one with him and\nhis confederates in the treacherous plan; it never entered his head\nfor a moment to blame her for this _volte-face_, nor did he realize\nthat Gaston's attitude had been one of lying infamy. He knew her for a\npure-minded and exceptionally proud woman and his paternal heart had\nno fear that she would stoop to a vulgar intrigue, at the same time he\nhad no reason to doubt that she had yielded to the persuasive powers\nof a man whom she had certainly loved at one time, who and of\nnecessity would still exercise a certain influence over her.\n\nAnd now she was no doubt anxious to know something of future plans\nshe had probably not heard what had been decided with regard to the\nexpedition, and perhaps fretted as to how her own actions had been\ninterpreted by her father and the King. It was with a view to\nreassuring her on all these points that he now added:\n\n\"We are not thinking of sending _Le Monarque_.\"\n\n\"Ah? I thought that she would have been the most likely vessel. . .\"\n\n\"_Le Levantin_ will be safer,\" he explained, \"but she will not be\nready to put to sea for five or six days, so Gaston will not start\nuntil then; but you need have no fear, dear; the orders together with\nthe map and the precious letter, which you have given him, are quite\nsafe in his hands. He is too deeply concerned in the success of the\nexpedition to think of betraying you, even if his regard were less\ngenuine. . . . And we are all deeply grateful to you, my dear . . . It\nwas all for the best. . .\"\n\nHe patted her hand with kindly affection, much relieved now, for she\nseemed quite calm and the colour even was coming back to her cheeks:\nall the afternoon he had been dreading this meeting with his daughter,\nfor he had not seen her since he learned from Gaston that she had\nyielded to his entreaties, and given him the map and letter which\nwould help the King of France to betray his friend: now he was glad to\nfind that--save for an unusual hysterical outburst--she took the whole\nmatter as coolly as he did himself.\n\nThere is no doubt that there are moments in life when a crisis is so\nacute, a catastrophe so overwhelming, that all our faculties become\ncompletely deadened: our individuality goes out of us, and we become\nmere dolls moving automatically by muscular action and quite\nindependently of our brain.\n\nThus it was with Lydie.\n\nHer father's words could not be misunderstood. They left her without\nthat last faint shadow of doubt which, almost unbeknown to herself,\nhad been her main support during the past few minutes of this intense\nagony. Now the tiny vestige of hope had vanished. Blank despair\ninvaded her brain and she had the sensation as if sorrow had turned it\ninto a pulpy mass, a great deal too bulky for her head, causing it to\nthrob and to ache intolerably. Beyond that, the rest of herself as it\nwere, became quite mechanical. She was glad that her father said\nnothing more about the scheme. She knew all that she wanted to know:\nGaston's hideous, horrible treachery, the clumsy trap into which she\nhad fallen, and above all the hopeless peril into which she had\nplunged the very man whom she had wished to save.\n\nShe had been the most perfidious traitor amongst them all, for the\nunfortunate prince had given her his friendship, and had trusted her\nmore fully than he had others.\n\nAnd then there was her husband!\n\nOf him she would not think, for that way lay madness surely!\n\nShe managed to smile to her father, and to reassure him. Presently she\nwould tell him all . . . to-morrow perhaps, but not just yet . . . She\ndid not hate him somehow. She could not have hated him, for she knew\nhim and had always loved him. But he was weak and easily misguided.\n\nHeavens above! had anyone been more culpably weak, more misguided than\nshe herself?\n\nMonsieur le Duc, fully satisfied in his mind now by her outward calm,\nand the steady brilliance of her eyes, recalled her to her official\nduties.\n\n\"Dancing is over, Lydie,\" he said, \"have you not a few presentations\nto Her Majesty to effect?\"\n\n\"Oh yes!\" she said perfectly naturally, \"of a truth I had almost\nforgotten . . . the first time for many years, eh? my dear father. . .\nHow some people will gossip at this remissness of Madame la Grande\nMarechale de la Cour . . . will you conduct me straight away to Her\nMajesty? . . . I hope she has not yet noticed my absence.\"\n\nShe leaned somewhat heavily on her father's arm, for she was afraid\nthat she could not otherwise have walked quite straight. She fully\nrealized what it meant when men talked of drunkenness amongst\nthemselves. Copious libations must produce--she thought--just this\nsame sensation of swaying and tottering, and hideous, painful\ngiddiness.\n\nAlready Monsieur de Louvois, Her Majesty's Chamberlain, was waiting,\nwhilst the ladies, who were to receive the honour of special\npresentation, were arraigned in a semi-circle to the left of the dais.\nBeneath the canopy the King and Queen were standing: Louis looking as\nusual insufferably bored, and the Queen calmly dignified, not a little\ndisdainful, and closely scrutinizing the bevy of women--more or less\ngorgeously apparelled, some old, some young, mostly rather dowdy and\nstiff in their appearance--who were waiting to be introduced.\n\nQuickly, and with a respectful curtsey indicative of apology, Lydie\nnow took her stand beside her Royal mistress and the ceremony of\npresentations began. The chamberlain read out a name; one unit\nthereupon detached itself from the feminine group, approached with\nsedate steps to the foot of the throne, and made a deep obeisance,\nwhilst Madame la Grande Marechale said a few appropriate words, that\nwere meant to individualize that unit in the mind of the Queen.\n\n\"Madame de Balincourt. Your Majesty will deign to remember the brave\nGeneral who fought at Fontenoy. Madame has eschewed country life\nmomentarily for the honour of being presented to your Majesty.\"\n\n\"Enchantee, Madame,\" the Queen would reply graciously, offering her\nhand for a respectful kiss.\n\n\"Madame Helvetius, the wife of our renowned scientist and philosopher.\nYour Majesty is acquainted with his works.\"\n\n\"Enchantee, Madame!\"\n\n\"And Mademoiselle Helvetius, striving to become as learned as her\ndistinguished father, and almost succeeding so 'tis said.\"\n\nThe Queen deigned to say a few special words to this shy _debutante_\nand to her mother, both primly clad in badly-fitting gowns which\nproclaimed the country dressmaker, but in their simplicity and\ngaucherie peculiarly pleasing to Her Majesty.\n\nAnd thus the procession filed past. Elderly women and young girls,\nsome twenty in all, mostly hailing from distant parts of France, where\nthe noise and frivolity of the Court of Versailles had not even roused\nan echo. The Queen was very gracious. She liked this select little\ncircle of somewhat dowdy provincials, who she felt would be quite at\none with her in her desire for the regeneration of social France. The\nuglier and less fashionable were the women, the more drabby and\nill-fitting their clothes, the sweeter and more encouraging became Her\nMajesty's smile. She asked lengthy questions from her Grande\nMarechale, and seemed to take a malicious delight in irritating the\nKing, by protracting this ceremony, which she knew bored him to\ndistraction, until he could scarcely manage to smother the yawns which\ncontinually assailed his jaws.\n\nSuddenly Lydie felt her limbs stiffen and her throat close as if iron\nfingers had gripped it. She had been saying the usual platitudes anent\nthe wife, sister or aunt of some worthy general or country squire,\nwhen Monsieur de Louvois called out a name:\n\n\"Madame la Comtesse de Stainville.\"\n\nAnd from out the group of dowdy country matrons and starchy-looking\n_devotes_ a brilliant figure now detached itself and glided forward\nwith consummate grace. Irene de Stainville was approaching for\npresentation to the Queen, her eyes becomingly cast down, a rosy flush\non her cheeks, for she was conscious that she was beautiful and that\nthe King's wearied eyes had lighted up at sight of her.\n\nThere was something almost insolent in the gorgeousness of her gown:\nit was of a rich turquoise blue, that stood out, glaring and vivid\nagainst the buttercup- hangings of the room. Her stiff corslet\nwas frankly _decollete_, displaying her fine shoulders and creamy\nbosom, on which reposed a delicately wrought turquoise necklet of\nexquisite design. Her hair was piled up over her head, in the\nmonumental and _outre_ style lately decreed by Dame Fashion, and the\nbrocade of her panniers stood out in stiff folds each side of her,\nlike balloon-shaped supports, on which her white arms rested with\ngraceful ease. It seemed as if a gaudy, exotic butterfly had lost its\nway, and accidentally fluttered into an assembly of moths.\n\nGaston de Stainville stood a little behind his wife. Etiquette\ndemanded that he should be near her, when she made her obesiance to\nthe Queen. He, too, somehow, looked out of place among these more\nsedate cavaliers: there had always been a very distinct difference\nbetween the dress worn by the ladies and gentlemen of the Queen's\nentourage, and the more ornate style adopted by the gayer frequenters\nof the Court of Versailles. This difference was specially noticeable\nnow, when this handsome young couple stood before Her Majesty, she not\nunlike a glittering jewel herself, he in a satin coat of pale mauve,\nthat recalled the delicate shades of a bank of candytuft in mid-June.\n\nThe Queen no longer looked down from her dais with an indulgent,\nsomewhat melancholy smile. Her eyes--cold and gray as those of King\nStanislaus had been--regarded with distinct disapproval these two\npeople, who, in her rigid judgment, were naught but gaudily decked-out\ndolls, and who walked on high-heeled shoes that made an unpleasant\nnoise on the polished floor.\n\nLydie had during the last agonizing half-hour wholly forgotten Irene\nde Stainville and the presentation which, on an impulse of gratitude\ntoward Gaston, she had promised to bring about, and she certainly had\nnot been prepared for this meeting, face to face, with the man who,\nfor the second time in her life, had so bitterly and cruelly wronged\nher.\n\nGaston did not seem anxious to avoid her gaze. There was insolent\ntriumph and mockery in every line of his attitude: in the head thrown\na little to one side; in the eyes narrowed until they were slits,\ngazing at her over the barrier of his wife's elaborate coiffure: in\nthe slender, well-kept hand toying with the gold-rimmed eyeglass, and\nabove all in the sensual, sneering mouth, and the full lips parted in\na smile.\n\nLydie was hardly conscious of Irene's presence, of any one in fact,\nsave of Gaston de Stainville, of whom she had dreamed so romantically\na few hours ago, speeding him on his way, praying--God help her!--that\nhe might be well and safe. An intense bitterness surged up in her\nheart, a deadly contempt for him. Awhile ago she would not have\nbelieved that she could hate anyone so. She would at this moment have\ngladly bartered her life for the joy of doing him some awful injury.\nAll softness, gentleness, went out of her nature, just while she\nlooked at Gaston and caught his mocking smile.\n\nIt was the mockery that hurt her so! The awful humiliation of it all!\n\nAnd there was also in Lydie that highly sensitive sense of loyalty,\nwhich revolted at the sight of these traitors approaching, with a\nsmile of complacency on their lips, this proud Queen who was ignorant\nof their infamy.\n\nWomen have often been called petty in their hates: rightly perhaps!\nbut let us remember that their power to punish is limited, and\ntherefore they strike as best they can. Lydie, in spite of her\ninfluence and her high position, could do so little to punish Gaston,\nnow that by his abominable treachery he had filched every trump card\nfrom her.\n\nShe had been such an unpardonable fool--and she knew it--that her very\nself-abasement whipped up her sense of retaliation, her desire for\nsome sort of revenge, into veritable fury; and thus, when la belle\nIrene, triumphant in the pride of her universally acknowledged\nbeauty, came to the foot of the Royal dais, when--through some\nunexplainable and occult reason--a hush of expectancy descended on all\nspectators, Lydie's voice was suddenly raised, trenchant and decisive:\n\n\"This is an error on Monsieur le Chambellan's part,\" she said loudly,\nso that everyone in the vast audience-chamber might hear. \"There is no\none here to present this lady to Her Majesty!\"\n\nA gasp went round the room, a sigh of astonishment, of horror, of\nanticipation, and in the silence that immediately followed, the\nproverbial pin would have been heard to drop: every rustle of a silken\ngown, every creak of a shoe sounded clear and distinct, as did the\nquickly-suppressed sneer that escaped Gaston de Stainville's lips and\nthe frou-frou of his satin coat sleeve as he raised the gold-rimmed\nglass to his eye.\n\nWhat were the joys of gossip in comparison with this unexpected\nsensation, which moreover would certainly be the prelude to an amazing\nscandal? Anon everyone drew instinctively nearer. All eyes were fixed\non the several actors of this palpitating little scene.\n\nAlready Irene had straightened her graceful figure, with a quick jerk\nas if she had been struck. The terrible affront must have taken her\ncompletely unawares, but now that it had come, she instantly guessed\nits cause. Nevertheless there was nothing daunted or bashful about her\nattitude. The colour blazed into her cheeks, and her fine dark eyes\nresponded to Lydie's scornful glance with one of defiance and of hate.\n\nThe Queen looked visibly annoyed. She disliked scenes and\nunpleasantness, and all incidents which disturbed the even placidity\nof her official life: the King, on the other hand, swore an\nunmistakable oath. Obviously he had already taken sides in favour of\nthe gaily-plumaged butterfly against the duller moths, whilst Monsieur\nde Louvois looked hopelessly perturbed. He was very young and had only\nlately been appointed to the onerous position of Queen's Chamberlain.\nThough the post was no sinecure, a scandal such as threatened now, was\nquite unprecedented. He scented a violent passage of arms between two\nyoung and beautiful women, both of high social position, and manlike\nhe would sooner have faced a charge of artillery than this duel\nbetween two pairs of rosy lips, wherein he feared that he might be\ncalled upon to arbitrate.\n\nLydie, alone among all those present, had retained her outward\nserenity. This was her hour, and she meant to press her triumph home\nto the full. All the pent-up horror and loathing which had well-nigh\nchoked her during the whole of this terrible day, now rose clamouring\nand persistent in this opportunity for revenge. Though Gaston stood\ncalm and mocking by, though Irene looked defiant and her cheeks flamed\nwith wrath, they would glow with shame anon, for Lydie had\ndeliberately aimed a blow at her vanity, the great and vulnerable spot\nin the armour of _la belle brune de Bordeaux_.\n\nLydie knew Marie Leszcynska well enough to be sure that the very\nbreath of scandal, which she had deliberately blown on Gaston's wife,\nwas enough to cause the rigid, puritanically-minded Queen to refuse\nall future intercourse with her. Rightly or wrongly, without further\njudgment or appeal, the Queen would condemn Irene unheard, and ban\nher and her husband for ever from her intimacy, thus setting the mark\nof a certain social ostracism upon them, which they could never live\ndown.\n\nLess than three seconds had elapsed whilst these conflicting emotions\nassailed the various actors of this drawing-room drama. The Queen now\nturned with a frown half-inquiring, wholly disapproving toward the\nunfortunate Louvois.\n\n\"Monsieur le Chambellan,\" she said sternly, \"how did this occur? We do\nnot allow any error to creep in the list of presentations made to our\nRoyal person.\"\n\nThese few words recalled Irene to the imminence of her peril. She\nwould not allow herself to be humiliated without a protest, nor would\nshe so readily fall a victim to Lydie's obvious desire for revenge.\nShe too was shrewd enough to know that the Queen would never forgive,\nand certainly never forget, the _esclandre_ of this presentation; but\nif she herself was destined to fall socially, at least she would drag\nher enemy down with her, and bury Lydie's influence, power and\npopularity beneath the ruins of her own ambitions.\n\n\"Your Majesty will deign I hope to pause a moment ere you sweep me\nfrom before your Royal eyes unheard,\" she said boldly; \"the error is\non the part of Madame la Grande Marechale. My name was put on Monsieur\nle Chambellan's list by her orders.\"\n\nBut Marie Leszcynska would not at this juncture take any direct notice\nof Irene; until it was made quite clear that Madame la Comtesse de\nStainville was a fit and proper person to be presented to the Queen of\nFrance, she absolutely ignored her very existence, lest a word from\nher be interpreted as implying encouragement, or at least\nrecognition. Therefore she looked beyond Irene, straight at Monsieur\nde Louvois, and addressed herself directly to him.\n\n\"What are the true facts, Monsieur le Chambellan?\" she said.\n\n\"I certainly . . . er . . . had the list as usual . . . er . . . from\nMadame la Grande Marechale . . . and . . .\" poor Monsieur de Louvois\nstammered in a fit of acute nervousness.\n\n\"Then 'tis from you, Madame la Marquise, that we require an\nexplanation for this unseemly disturbance,\" rejoined Her Majesty\nturning her cold, gray eyes on Lydie.\n\n\"The explanation is quite simple, your Majesty,\" replied Lydie calmly.\n\"It had been my intention to present Madame la Comtesse de Stainville\nto your Majesty, but since then events have occurred, which will\ncompel me to ask Madame la Comtesse to find some other lady to perform\nthe office for her.\"\n\n\"The explanation is not quite satisfactory to us,\" rejoined Her\nMajesty with all the rigid hauteur of which she possessed the stinging\nsecret, \"and it will have to be properly and officially amplified\nto-morrow. But this is neither the place nor the moment for discussing\nsuch matters. Monsieur de Louvois, I pray you to proceed with the\nother names on your list. The Queen has spoken!\"\n\nWith these arrogant words culled from the book of etiquette peculiar\nto her own autocratic house, the daughter of the deposed King of\nPoland waved the incident aside as if it had never been. A quickly\nrepressed murmur went all round the room. Lydie swept a deep and\nrespectful curtsey before Her Majesty, and indicated by her own\nmanner that, as far as she was concerned, the incident was now closed\nby royal command.\n\nBut Irene de Stainville's nature was not one that would allow the\nmatter to be passed over so lightly. Whichever way the Queen might\nchoose to act, she felt that at any rate the men must be on her side:\nand though King Louis himself was too indolent and egotistical to\ninterfere actively on her behalf, and her own husband could not do\nmore than pick a quarrel with some wholly innocent person, yet she was\nquite sure that she detected approval and encouragement to fight her\nown battles in the looks of undisguised admiration which the masculine\nelement there present freely bestowed upon her. Monsieur le Duc\nd'Aumont, for one, looked stern disapproval at his daughter, whilst\nMonsieur de Louvois was visibly embarrassed.\n\nIt was, therefore, only a case of two female enemies, one of whom\ncertainly was the Queen of France--a prejudiced and obstinate autocrat\nif ever there was one, within the narrow confines of her own intimate\ncircle--and the other exceptionally highly placed, both in Court\nfavour and in official status.\n\nStill Irene de Stainville felt that her own beauty was at least as\npowerful an asset, when fighting for social prestige, as the political\ninfluence of her chief adversary.\n\nTherefore when the Queen of France chose to speak as if Madame la\nComtesse de Stainville did not even exist, and Monsieur de Louvois\ndiffidently but firmly begged her to stand aside, she boldly refused.\n\n\"Nay! the Queen shall hear me,\" she said in a voice which trembled a\nlittle now with suppressed passion; \"surely Her Majesty will not allow\na jealous woman's caprice . . .\"\n\n\"Silence, wench,\" interrupted Marie Leszcynska with all the authority,\nthe pride, the dictatorial will, which she had inherited from her\nPolish ancestors; \"you forget that you are in the presence of your\nQueen.\"\n\n\"Nay, Madame, I do not forget it,\" said Irene, nothing daunted, and\nfirmly holding her ground. \"I remember it with every word I utter, and\nremember that the name of our Queen stands for purity and for justice.\nYour Majesty,\" she added, being quick to note the slightly yielding\nlook which, at her cleverly chosen words, crept in Marie Leszcynska's\neyes, and gracefully dropping on her knees on the steps of the throne,\n\"will you at least deign to hear me? I may not be worthy to kiss your\nMajesty's hand; we none of us are that, I presume, for you stand\ninfinitely above us by right of your virtues and your dignity, but I\nswear to the Queen of France that I have done nothing to deserve this\npublic affront.\"\n\nShe paused a moment, to assure herself that she held the attention of\nthe Queen and of every one there present, then she fixed her dark eyes\nstraight on Lydie and said loudly, so that her clear, somewhat shrill\nyoung voice rang out triumphantly through the room:\n\n\"My husband was made a tool of by Madame la Marquise d'Eglinton, for\nthe purpose of selling the Stuart prince to England.\"\n\nOnce more there was dead silence in the vast reception hall, a few\nseconds during which the loudly accusing voice died away in an almost\nimperceptible echo, but in one heart at least those seconds might have\nbeen a hundred hours, for the wealth of misery they contained.\n\nLydie stood as if turned to stone. Though she had realized Gaston's\ntreachery she had not thought that it would mean all this. The utter\ninfamy of it left her paralyzed and helpless. She had delivered her\nsoul, her mind, her honour, her integrity to the vilest traitor that\never darkened the face of the earth. If a year ago she had humiliated\nhim, if to-day she had tried to thwart all his future ambitions, he\nwas fully revenged now.\n\nShe did not hear even the loyal Queen's protest:\n\n\"It is false!\" for Marie Leszcynska, sickened and horrified, was loth\nto believe the truth of this terrible indictment against the one woman\nshe had always singled out for royal trust and royal friendship.\n\n\"It is true, your Majesty,\" said Irene firmly, as she once more rose\nto her feet. \"Deign to ask Madame la Marquise d'Eglinton if to-day in\nthe loneliness of the Park of Versailles, she did not place in the\nhands of Monsieur le Comte de Stainville the secret of the Stuart\nprince's hiding place so that he might be delivered over to the\nEnglish for a large sum of money. Madame is beautiful and rich and\ninfluential, Monsieur de Stainville being a man, dared not refuse to\nobey her orders, but Monsieur de Stainville is also handsome and\nyoung, Madame honoured him with her regard, and I the wife was to be\npublicly ostracised and swept aside, for I was in the way, and might\nhave an indiscreet tongue in my mouth. That, your Majesty, is the\ntruth,\" concluded Irene now with triumphant calm; \"deign to look into\nher face and mine and see which is the paler, she or I.\"\n\nMarie Leszcynska had listened in silence at the awful accusation thus\nhurled by one woman against the other. At Irene's final words she\nturned and looked at Lydie, saw the marble-like hue of the face, the\nrigidity of the young form, the hopeless despair expressed in the\nhalf-closed eyes. It is but fair to say that the Queen even now did\nnot altogether believe Madame de Stainville's story: she instinctively\nwas still drawing a comparison between the gaudily apparelled doll\nwith the shrill voice, and the impudently bared shoulders, and the\nproud, graceful woman in robes of virginal white, of whom, during all\nthese years of public life, unkind tongues were only able to say that\nshe was cold, rigid, dull, uninteresting perhaps, but whose vestal\nrobes the breath of evil scandal had never dared to pollute.\n\nThe Queen did not feel that guilt was written now on that straight,\npure brow, but she had a perfectly morbid horror of any _esclandre_\noccurring in her presence or at one of her Courts. Moreover, Irene had\ncertainly struck one chord, which jarred horribly on the puritanical\nQueen's nerves, and unfortunately at the very moment when Madame de\nStainville made this final poisoned suggestion, Marie Lesczynska's\neyes happened to be resting on the King's face. In Louis' expression\nshe caught the leer, the smile, half-mocking, half indulgent which was\nhabitual to him when woman's frailty was discussed, and her whole\npride rose in revolt at contact with these perpetual scandals, which\ndisgraced the Court of Versailles, and which she was striving so hard\nto banish from her own entourage.\n\nBecause of this she felt angered now with every one quite\nindiscriminately. A few years ago her sense of justice would have\ncaused her to sift this matter through, to test for herself the rights\nor wrongs of an obviously bitter quarrel; but lately this sense of\njustice had become blunted, through many affronts to her personal\ndignity as a Queen and as a wife. It had left her with a morbid\negotistical regard for the majesty of her Court: this she felt had\nbeen attainted; and now she only longed to get away, and leave behind\nher all this vulgarity, these passions, these petty quarrels, which\nshe so cordially abhorred.\n\n\"Enough,\" she said sternly; \"our royal cheeks glow with shame at\nthought that this indecent brawl should have occurred in our presence.\nYour Majesty,\" she added turning haughtily to the King, \"your arm, I\npray; we cannot endure this noisy bickering, which is more fitting for\nthe slums of Paris than for the throne-room of the Queen of France.\"\n\nLouis' bewilderment was almost comical. It would have been utterly\nimpossible for him, and quite unseemly in his wife's presence, to\ninterfere in what was obviously a feminine quarrel, even if he had\ndesired to do so; and he had not altogether made up his mind how\nMadame la Comtesse de Stainville's indiscreet outburst would affect\nhim personally, which was all that really interested him in the\nmatter. On the whole he was inclined to think favourably of the new\naspect of affairs. When the fact of the Stuart prince's betrayal into\nhis enemies' hands became known--which it was bound to do sooner or\nlater--it was not unpleasant that the first hint of the treachery\nshould have come in such a form as to implicate Lydie, and that so\ndeeply, that ever afterward the public, clinging to the old proverb\nthat there is no smoke without fire, would look upon her as the prime\nmover in the nefarious scheme.\n\nLouis the Well-beloved possessed, par excellence, the subtle knack of\ntaking care of his august person, and above all of his august\nreputation. It would certainly be as well, for the sake of the\nfuture, that his over-indulgent subjects should foster the belief\nthat, in this vile treachery, their King had been misled; more sinned\nagainst than sinning.\n\nBut of course he too was anxious to get away. That the present\nfeminine altercation would lead to a more serious quarrel, he already\nguessed from the fact that his shrewd eyes had perceived Lord Eglinton\nstanding close to one of the great doors at the further end of the\nroom. Vaguely Louis wondered how much the husband had heard, and what\nhe would do if he had heard everything. Then he mentally shrugged his\nshoulders, thinking that after all it did not matter what milor's\nfuture actions might be. Louis was quite convinced that Madame Lydie\nhad thrown her bonnet over the mills, and that, as a gallant\ngentleman, milor would above all things have to hold his peace.\n\nHis Majesty therefore was not angered against any one. He smiled quite\naffably at the Comte and Comtesse de Stainville and bestowed a knowing\nwink on Lydie, who fortunately was too dazed to notice this final\ninsult.\n\nEvery one else was silent and awed. The Queen now descended the steps\nof the dais on the arm of the King. Irene was a little disappointed\nthat nothing more was going to happen. She opened her lips, ready to\nspeak again but Marie Leszcynska threw her such a haughty, scornful\nglance that Gaston de Stainville, realizing the futility--nay! the\ndanger---of prolonging this scene, placed a peremptory hand on his\nwife's arm, forcibly drawing her away.\n\nAt the foot of the steps Her Majesty once more turned to Lydie.\n\n\"We shall expect an explanation from you, Marquise,\" she said\nhaughtily, \"but not to-night. See that our audience chamber is cleared\nfrom all this rabble.\"\n\nAnd with this parting shot, hurled recklessly at her faithful\nadherents, just as much as at those who had offended her, the\ndescendant of a proud line of Kings sailed majestically out of the\nroom, whilst a loud \"hush-sh-sh-sh . . .\" caused by the swish of\nbrocaded skirts on the parquet floor as every one made a deep\nobeisance, accompanied the Royal lady in her short progress toward the\ndoor and then softly died away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nA FALL\n\n\nIrene de Stainville was quite right when she thought that sympathy\nwould be on her side, in the grave affront which had been put upon\nher, and for which she had revenged herself somewhat drastically, but\nunder the circumstances quite naturally.\n\nAlthough in this circle--known as the Queen's set--the young\nMarchioness of Eglinton had always been looked up to as a leader and\nan especial favourite, the accusation which Irene had brought against\nher was so awful, her own attitude of passive acquiescence so\nincomprehensible, that it was small wonder that after the departure of\nTheir Majesties, when the crowd broke up into isolated groups, most\npeople there present held themselves aloof from her.\n\nThe words \"a jealous woman's caprice,\" which at the outset had so\nangered the Queen, expressed fully the interpretation put upon Lydie's\nconduct by those who witnessed the scene from beginning to end. That\nIrene de Stainville had inflicted on her the humiliation of a terrible\npublic indictment, was reckoned only as retributive human justice.\n\nLydie knew well enough that the crowd which surrounded her--though\nhere usually composed of friends--was only too ready to believe evil,\nhowever crying, against a woman placed so highly in Royal and social\nfavour as she herself had been for years. Already she could hear the\nmurmur of condemnation round her, and that from people who should\nhave known that she was quite incapable of committing the base\ntreachery attributed to her.\n\nOf course she had not denied it. She could not have denied it, in the\nface of the wording of the accusation itself.\n\nAnd she felt herself hideously and morally guilty, guilty in the facts\nthough not in the spirit. As Irene had put it crudely and simply, she\nhad handed over to Gaston de Stainville in the privacy of the Park of\nVersailles the secret which would deliver the Stuart prince into the\nhands of his enemies.\n\nHow could she begin to explain to all these people that her motive had\nbeen good and pure, her orders to Gaston altogether different from\nthose imputed to her by Irene? No one would have believed her\nexplanation unless Gaston too spoke the truth. And Gaston meant to be\nan infamous liar to the end.\n\nShe had been the tool of that clique, it was they now who were ready\nto cast her aside, to break her power and ultimately to throw her on\nthe heap of social refuse, where other traitors, liars and cheats\nmouldered away in obscurity.\n\nAlready she knew what the end would be, already she tasted the bitter\nfruit of waning popularity.\n\nQuite a crowd of obvious sympathizers gathered round the Comte and\nComtesse de Stainville. Gaston's avowedly base conduct was--it\nseems--to be condoned. At best he stood branded by his own\nwife--unwittingly perhaps--as having betrayed a woman who for right or\nwrong, had trusted him, but it is strange to record that, in this era\nof petticoat rule, the men were always more easily forgiven their\nfaults than the women.\n\nLydie found herself almost alone, only Monsieur de Louvois came and\nspoke to her on an official matter, and presently Monsieur le Duc\nd'Aumont joined them.\n\n\"Will you let me take you back to your apartments, Lydie?\" urged\nMonsieur le Duc. \"I fear the excitement has seriously upset you.\"\n\n\"You think I have been to blame, father dear?\" she asked quite gently.\n\n\"Oh! . . .\" he murmured vaguely.\n\n\"You did not speak up for me when that woman accused me . . .\"\n\n\"My dear child,\" he said evasively, \"you had not taken me into your\nconfidence. I thought . . .\"\n\n\"You still think,\" she insisted, \"that what Madame de Stainville said\nwas true?\"\n\n\"Isn't it?\" he asked blandly.\n\nHe did not understand this mood of hers at all. Was she trying to\ndeny? Impossible surely! She was a clever woman, and with the map and\nher own letter, sealed and signed with her name, what was the good of\ndenying?\n\n\"Your own letter and the map, my child,\" he added with gentle\nreproach, thinking that she feared to trust him completely.\n\n\"Ah yes! my own letter!\" she murmured, \"the map . . . I had\nforgotten.\"\n\nNo! she did not mean to deny! She could not deny! . . . Her own father\nbelieved her guilty . . . and all she could have done would have been\nto urge the purity of her motive. Gaston had of course destroyed her\norders to the command of _Le Monarque_ and there was only the map\n. . . and that awful, awful letter.\n\nMonsieur le Duc thought that his daughter had been very unwise.\nHaving trusted Gaston, and placed herself as it were in his hands, she\nwas foolish to anger him. No man--if he have the faintest pretension\nto being called an honourable gentleman--however smitten he might be\nwith another woman's charms, will allow his wife to be publicly\ninsulted by her rival. No doubt Lydie had been jealous of Irene, whose\nsomewhat indiscreet advances to milor Eglinton had aroused universal\ncomment. But Lydie did not even pretend to care for her own husband\nand she had yielded her most treasured secret to Gaston de Stainville.\nThere she should have remained content and not have provoked Irene's\nwrath, and even perhaps a revulsion of feeling in Gaston himself.\n\nUnlike King Louis, Monsieur le Duc d'Aumont did not approve of his\ndaughter's name being associated with the treacherous scheme from\nwhich he was ready enough to profit financially himself, although in\nthe innermost depths of his heart he disapproved of it. He knew his\nRoyal master well enough to be fully aware of the fact that, when the\nwhole nefarious transaction came to light, Louis would find means of\nposing before the public as the unwilling tool of a gang of\nmoney-grabbers. When that happened, every scornful finger would of\nnecessity--remembering the events of this night--point at Lydie, and\nincidentally at her father, as the prime movers of the scheme.\n\nIt had been far better to have conciliated Irene and not to have\nangered Gaston.\n\nBut women were strange creatures, and jealousy their most autocratic\nmaster. Even his daughter whom he had thought so exceptional, so\nclever and so clear-headed, was not free from the weaknesses of her\nsex.\n\n\"Methinks, my dear,\" he said kindly, \"you have not acted as wisely as\nI should have expected. Madame de Stainville, on my honour, hath not\nwronged you so as to deserve a public affront, and Gaston himself only\ndesired to serve you.\"\n\nMonsieur le Duc must have raised his voice more than he intended, or\nelse perhaps there had occurred quite suddenly in the crowd of\nsympathizers, that now stood in a dense group round Madame de\nStainville, one of those inevitable moments of complete silence when\nangels are said to be fluttering round the room. Certain it is that\nMonsieur le Duc's words sang out somewhat loudly, and were heard by\nthose whose names had been on his lips.\n\n\"Nay! I entreat you, Monsieur le Duc,\" came in light, bantering\naccents from Gaston de Stainville, \"do not chide your fair daughter.\nBelieve me, we who have suffered most are not inclined to be severe.\nAs to me the psychology of Madame la Marquise's mood has been\nprofoundly interesting, since it hath revealed her to the astonished\ngaze of her many admirers, as endowed with some of the weaknesses of\nher adorable sex. Why should we complain of these charming weaknesses?\nFor though we might be very hard hit thereby, they are but expressions\nof flattery soothing to our pride.\"\n\nThe groups had parted somewhat as he spoke, leaving him face to face\nwith Lydie, towards whom he advanced with an affected gait and mincing\nsteps, looking at her with mocking eyes, whilst toying gracefully with\nthe broad black ribbon that held his eyeglass.\n\nBut Gaston's were not the only sarcastic glances that were levelled at\nLydie. His fatuous innuendoes were unmistakable, and bore out the\nbroader and more shameful accusation hurled by Irene. Lydie's own\nattitude, her every action to-night, the expression of her face at\nthis moment seemed to prove them true. She retreated a little as he\nadvanced, and, doing so, she raised her head with that proud toss\nwhich was habitual to her.\n\nThus her eyes travelled swiftly across the room, and she saw her\nhusband standing some distance away. She, too, like King Louis,\nwondered how much he had heard, how much he knew: and knowing all,\nwhat he meant to do. Instinctively when she caught sight of him, and\nthen once more saw Gaston de Stainville drawing nearer to her, she\nremembered that warning which milor had given her that morning, and\nwhich she had thought so futile, anent the loathsome reptile that,\nonce touched, would pollute for ever.\n\n\"Madame,\" said Gaston now, as he boldly approached her, \"my friends\nhere would tell me no doubt that, by every code of social honour, my\nduty is to punish you or someone who would represent you in this\nmatter, for the affront done to my wife. But how can I do that since\nthe offender is fair as well as frail? My desire is not to punish, but\nrather to thank you on my knees for the delicate compliment implied by\nyour actions to-night. I knew that you honoured me by trusting in me,\"\nhe added with obvious significance, \"but I had not hoped to provoke\nsuch flattering jealousy in the heart of the most statuesque woman in\nFrance.\"\n\nA titter went round the room. Gaston's attitude seemed suddenly to\nhave eased the tension, as of an impending tragedy, which had hung\nover the brilliant assembly for the last half hour. Monsieur le Comte\nwas such a dreadful _mauvais sujet_ but so delightful in his ways, so\ndelicately refined in his wickedness! He was quite right to take the\nmatter lightly, and a murmur of approval followed the titter, at the\ntact with which he had lifted the load of apprehension from the minds\nof the company.\n\nMadame la Marquise d'Eglinton was something of a fool to take the\nmatter so thoroughly _au tragique_. No doubt the affairs of the Stuart\nprince would right themselves presently, and she certainly should have\nhad more regard for her willing and obviously devoted accomplice.\n\nHe looked so superlatively elegant and handsome now, the younger women\nsighed whilst they admired him. He pointed his toe and held out his\ntricorne in the manner prescribed by fashion for the making of a bow,\nand it was most unfortunate that he was so suddenly stopped in the\nvery midst of his graceful flourish by a quiet and suave voice which\ncame immediately from behind him.\n\n\"I would not do that, were I in your red-heeled shoes, my good\nStainville. A slip on this highly-polished floor is certain to be the\nresult.\"\n\nBut even before the gentle echo of these blandly spoken words had\npenetrated to the further ends of the room, Monsieur le Comte de\nStainville had measured his full length face downward on the ground.\n\nHis fall was so instantaneous that he had not the time to save himself\nwith his hands, and he was literally sprawling now at Lydie's feet\nwith arms and legs stretched out, his face having come in violent\ncontact with the polished floor. Quite close to him Lord Eglinton was\nstanding, laughing softly and discreetly and looking down on the\nprostrate and distinctly inelegant figure of the handsome cavalier.\n\nA ripple of merry laughter followed this unexpected turn of events.\nOne or two spectators, who had stood quite close at the very moment\nthat the catastrophe occurred, declared subsequently that milor had\nwith a quick action of his foot thrown Monsieur de Stainville off his\nbalance; the intense slipperiness of the parquet having merely done\nthe rest.\n\nBe that as it may, the laughter of necessity was prudently suppressed,\nfor already Gaston had picked himself up and there was that in his\nface which warned all those present that the farce--such as it\nwas--would prove the prelude to real and serious tragedy.\n\n\"There now,\" said Lord Eglinton blandly, \"did I not warn you, Monsieur\nle Comte? Graceful flourishes are apt to be treacherous.\"\n\n\"Milor. . .\" said Gaston, who was livid with rage.\n\n\"Hush--sh--sh,\" interrupted milor in the same even and gentle voice,\n\"not in the presence of ladies. . . . An you desire, Monsieur le\nComte, I'll be at your service later on.\"\n\nThen he turned toward his wife, bowing low, but not in the least as\nGaston de Stainville would have bowed, for he had inherited from his\nfather all the stiffness of manner peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon race.\n\nThus at this moment he looked distinctly gauche, though not without\ndignity, as, his back slightly bent, his left arm outstretched, he\nwaited until Lydie chose to place her hand on his sleeve.\n\n\"Your seconds, milor,\" shouted Gaston, who seemed quite unable to\ncontrol himself, and who had to be distinctly and even determinedly\nheld back by two of his friends from springing then and there at Lord\nEglinton's throat.\n\n\"They will wait on yours to-night, Monsieur le Comte,\" replied _le\npetit Anglais_ affably. \"Madame la Marquise, will you honour me?\"\n\nAnd Lydie took his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nHUSBAND AND WIFE\n\n\nMonsieur Achille was waiting in the vestibule of the Queen's\napartments. As soon as Lord and Lady Eglinton appeared his majestic\nfigure detached itself from the various groups of flunkeys, who stood\nabout desultorily pending the breaking up of Her Majesty's Court; he\nhad a cloak over his arm, and, at a sign from his master he approached\nand handed him the cloak which milor then placed round his wife's\nshoulders.\n\n\"Do you desire to sleep in Versailles to-night, Madame?\" he asked, \"my\ncoach is below in case you wished to drive to Chateau d'Aumont.\"\n\n\"I thank you, milor,\" she said, \"I would wish to remain in\nVersailles.\"\n\nThen she added with a pathetic sigh of bitterness:\n\n\"My father would prefer it, I think. He is not prepared for my visit.\nAnd I do not interfere with your lordship's arrangements. . . .\"\n\n\"Not in the least, Madame,\" he rejoined quietly. \"The corridors are\ninterminable; would you like a chair?\"\n\n\"No. . . . Let us walk,\" she said curtly.\n\nWithout further comment he once more offered her his arm. She took it\nand together they descended the monumental staircase and then turned\nalong the endless, vast corridors which lead to the West Wing.\nMonsieur Achille followed at a respectful distance, and behind him\nwalked two flunkeys, also in the gorgeous scarlet and gold Eglinton\nlivery, whilst two more bearing torches preceded Monsieur le Marquis\nand Madame, lighting them on their way.\n\nOn the way to the West Wing, milor talked lightly of many things: of\nMonsieur de Voltaire's latest comedy, and the quaint new fashion in\nheadgear, of His Majesty the King of Prussia and of the pictures of\nMonsieur Claude Gelee. He joked about the Duchesse de Pontchartrain's\nattempts at juvenility and Monsieur Crebillon's pretensions to a place\namong the Immortals. Lydie answered in monosyllables; she could not\nbring herself to speak, although she quite appreciated milor's desire\nto appear natural and unconcerned before his own lacqueys.\n\nA great resolution was taking root in her mind, and she only wanted\nthe privacy and the familiarity of her own apartments to put it into\nexecution. Thus they reached the West Wing.\n\nArrived in the antechamber whence her rooms branched off to the right\nand milor's to the left, Lord Eglinton stopped, disengaged her arm\nfrom his and was about to bid her an elaborate good-night, when she\nsaid abruptly:\n\n\"May I speak with you privately and in your own study, milor?\"\n\n\"Certainly, Madame,\" he replied seemingly a little astonished at her\nrequest.\n\nHe dismissed all the flunkeys with the exception of Monsieur Achille,\nwho led the way through the reception rooms toward milor's private\nsuite. Lord and Lady Eglinton followed in silence now. The rooms\nseemed strangely silent and deserted, ghostlike too, for there was no\nartificial light, and the moon peered in through the tall windows,\nthrowing patches of pale mauve and weird, translucent greens on the\nparquet floor and the brocade coverings of the chairs.\n\nIn milor's study, Monsieur Achille lighted the candles in two massive\ncandelabra, which stood on the secretaire, then, at a nod from his\nmaster, he walked backward out of the room.\n\nThe heavy portiere fell back with a curious sound like a moan, and for\nthe third time to-day husband and wife stood face to face alone. The\ngaucherie of his manner became at once apparent now: yet he seemed in\nno way bashful or ill as ease, only very stiff and awkward in his\nmovements, as he drew a chair for her at a convenient angle, and when\nshe had sat down, placed a cushion to her back and a footstool at her\nfeet. He himself remained standing.\n\n\"I pray you sit, milor,\" she said with a quick sigh, that trembled as\nit escaped her lips, \"and if I have not angered you beyond the bounds\nof your patience, I earnestly ask you to bear with me, for if I have\nbeen at fault I have also suffered much and . . .\"\n\n\"Madame,\" he said quite gently if somewhat coldly, \"might I entreat of\nyou not to insist on this interview if it distresses you very much; as\nto a fault . . . on my honour, Madame, the very thought of\nself-accusation on your part seems to me wildly preposterous.\"\n\nHe did not sit as she had asked him to do, but stood looking down at\nher and thinking--thinking alas!--that she never had been quite so\nbeautiful. She was almost as white as her gown, the powder still clung\nto her hair, which, in the dim light of the candles, chose to hide the\nglory of its ardent colour beneath the filmy artificial veil. She wore\nsome exquisite pearls, his gift on the day of her marriage: row upon\nrow of these exquisite gems fell on her throat and bosom, both as\nwhite, as glittering and pure as the priceless treasures from the\ndeep.\n\nThe chair in which she sat was covered with damask of a rich dull\ngold, and against this background with its bright lights and\nimpenetrably dark shadows, the white figure stood out like what he had\nalways pictured her, a cold and unapproachable statue.\n\nBut to-night, though so still and white, the delicate marble had taken\nunto itself life: the life which means sorrow. All the haughtiness of\nthe look had vanished; there were deep shadows under the eyes and\nlines of suffering round the perfectly chiselled lips.\n\nHenry Dewhyrst, Marquis of Eglinton, was not yet thirty: he loved this\nexquisitely beautiful woman with all his heart and soul, and she had\nnever been anything more to him than a perfectly carved image would be\non the high altar of a cathedral. She had been neither helpmate nor\nwife, only an ideal, an intangible shadow which his love had not\nsucceeded in materializing.\n\nAs he looked at her now, he wondered for the first time in the course\nof their married life, if it had been his own fault that they had\nremained such complete strangers: this was because for the first time\nto-day a great sorrow, a still greater shame had breathed life into\nthe marble-like statue.\n\nAll at once he felt deeply, unutterably sorry for her; he had no\nthought of her wrongs toward him, only of those done to herself by her\npride and the faults of the epoch in which she lived.\n\n\"Milor,\" she said trying to steady her voice, \"it would ease me a\nlittle--and ease the painfulness of this interview--if you were to\ntell me at what precise moment you entered Her Majesty's throne-room\nto-night.\"\n\n\"I cannot say, Madame,\" he replied with the ghost of a smile; \"I did\nnot look at the clock, but I was in attendance on His Majesty and\ntherefore . . .\"\n\n\"You heard what passed between Madame la Comtesse de Stainville and\nmyself?\" she interrupted hastily.\n\n\"Every word.\"\n\nSomehow she felt relieved. She would have hated to recapitulate that\nvulgar scene, the mutual recriminations, the insults, culminating in\nHer Majesty's contemptuous exit from the room. She could not now see\nher husband's face, for he had contrived to stand so as to allow the\nlight from the candelabra to fall full upon her, whilst he himself,\nsilhouetted against the light, remained in the shadow; but there was a\ncertain dignified repose about the whole figure, the white, slender\nhand resting lightly on the bureau, the broad shoulders square and\nstraight, suggesting physical strength, and the simple, somewhat sober\nstyle and cut of the clothes.\n\nThe room too appeared as a complete contrast to the other apartments\nof the palace of Versailles, where the mincing fancies of Watteau and\nthe artificialities of Boucher had swept aside the nobler conceptions\nof Girardon and Mansard. It was quite plainly furnished, with\nstraight-back chairs and hangings of dull gold, and the leather\ncovering of the bureau gave ample signs of wear.\n\nThe turmoil in Lydie's heart subsided, yielding itself to peace in the\nmidst of these peaceful surroundings. She was able to conquer the\ntremor of her voice, the twitch of her lips, and to swallow down the\nburning tears of humiliation which blinded her eyes and obscured her\njudgment.\n\n\"Then, milor, it will indeed be easier for me. You understand of what\nI am charged, the awful load of disgrace and shame which by my own\nfolly I have placed upon my shoulders . . . you understand,\" and her\nvoice, though steady, sunk to a whisper, \"that I have proved unworthy\nof the confidence which the unfortunate Stuart prince, who was your\nfriend, placed in me as well as in you?\"\n\nHe did not reply, waiting for her to continue. Her head had drooped\nand a heavy tear fell from her sunken lids upon her hands. To him who\nloved her, and whom she had so deeply wronged, there was a strange yet\npainful joy in watching her cry.\n\n\"What Madame de Stainville said to-night is true,\" she added\ntonelessly. \"I gave into Monsieur de Stainville's hands the map, with\nfull marginal notes and description of the place where the Stuart\nprince is hiding; I also gave him a letter written and signed by me,\naddressed to Prince Charles Edward Stuart, begging him to trust\nimplicitly his own royal person and that of his friends to the bearer\nof my note. That letter and the plan are even now in the hands of His\nMajesty, who purposes to accept the proposals of His Grace the Duke of\nCumberland, and to sell the Stuart prince to his foes for the sum of\nfifteen million livres. And that is all true.\"\n\nKnowing men, the men of her world, she fully expected that this\nconfession of hers would cause her husband's just wrath to break\nthrough that barrier of courteous good-breeding and self-restraint,\nimposed on all men of honour when in the presence of women, and which\nshe firmly believed had alone prevented him from interfering between\nherself and Irene. She would not have been astonished if he had\nstormed and raged, loudly accused and condemned her, nay!--she had\nheard of such things--if he had laid hands on her. But when, hearing\nnothing, she looked up, she saw that he had scarcely moved, only the\nhand which still rested on the secretaire trembled a little. Perhaps\nher look made him conscious of that, for he withdrew it, and then\nseemed to pull himself together, and draw himself up, straight and\nrigid like a soldier on parade.\n\n\"Having told you this, milor,\" she resumed after a slight pause, \"I\nshould like to add that I am fully aware that in your eyes there can\nbe no excuse possible for what I did, since in doing it I have\nsacrificed the life of a man who trusted us--you and me, milor--more\neven than he did France. He and his friends, by my act, will leave the\nshelter of their retreat, and will be delivered into the hands of\nthose who cannot do aught, for political and self-protective reasons,\nbut send them to the scaffold. You see, milor, I do not palliate my\noffence, nor do I seek your pardon--although I know that you will look\non what I have done as a disgrace brought by your wife upon your name.\nI deserve no pardon, and I ask for none. But if there is no excuse for\nmy conduct, at least do I owe you an explanation, and for this I crave\nyour attention if you would care to listen.\"\n\n\"Nay, Madame, you do but jest,\" he rejoined, \"you owe me nothing . . .\nnot even an explanation.\"\n\n\"Yet you will listen?\" she urged.\n\n\"It would be only painful to us both, Madame.\"\n\n\"You prefer to think of me as ignoble, treacherous and base,\" she said\nwith sudden vehemence, \"you do not wish to know for certain and from\nmy own lips that Gaston de Stainville . . .\"\n\nShe paused abruptly and bit her lips, he watching her keenly, she not\nknowing that she was watched.\n\nThis was going to be a fight and he knew it, a dire conflict between\ndistress and pride. At first he had hoped that she was prepared to\nyield, that she had sought this interview because the load of sorrow\nand of humiliation being more than she could bear, she had turned\ninstinctively to the only man in the world who could ease and comfort\nher: whose boundless, untiring love was ready to share the present\npain, as it had shrunk from participating in the glories of the past.\nBut as she spoke, as she sat there before him now, white, passive,\ndisdainful even in her self-abasement, he knew that his hour--Love's\nhour--had not yet struck. Pride was not yet conquered.\n\nThe dominant ruler of a lifetime will not abdicate very readily, and\nthough distress and sorrow are powerful opponents, they are more\ntransient, more easily cast aside than Pride.\n\n\"As you say, milor,\" she now said more quietly, \"the matter is only\npainful to us both. I understand that your estimate of me is not an\nexalted one. You despise--you probably hate me! Well! so be it. Let us\nnot think of our own feelings in this matter, milor! I entreat you to\nignore my very existence for the time being, only thinking of the\nStuart prince and of his dire peril!\n\n\"'Tis because of him I have begged for this interview,\" she resumed\nwith just a thought of that commanding manner, which she was wont to\nassume whenever matters of public import were discussed: \"I need not\nreiterate the fact that he is in deadly danger. _Le Levantin_, a fast\nbrigantine, milor, is even now being equipped by His Majesty for the\nnefarious expedition. _Le Levantin_ or perhaps _Le Monarque_--the\nlatter is quite ready to sail at any time, and with the map and my\nletter it will be easy . . . oh! so easy! . . . Oh!\" she added with a\nsudden uncontrollable outburst of passionate appeal, \"milor, he was\nyour friend . . . can nothing be done? . . . can nothing be done?\"\n\n\"I do not know, madame,\" he replied coldly, \"how should I?\"\n\n\"But surely, surely you remember your promise to him, milor,\" she said\nimpatient at his coldness, unable to understand this lack of\nenthusiasm. \"You remember that night, in the Chateau d'Aumont--the\nbanquet . . . his farewell to you . . . his trust, his confidence\n. . . the assurance you gave him . . .\"\n\n\"So much has occurred since then, Madame,\" he said simply. \"The\nguidance of affairs has been in your hands. . . . I have lost what\nlittle grasp I ever had of the situation. . . . As you know, I am\nneither clever nor strong--and I have only too gladly relied on abler\nwits than mine own. . . .\"\n\n\"But your promise,\" she urged, with real passion ringing in her voice,\n\"your promise to him. . . .\"\n\n\"I made a far more solemn one to you, madame, never to interfere in\nmatters of State.\"\n\n\"I'll release you of that,\" she cried impulsively; \"think, milor . . .\nI entreat you to think! . . . there must be some way out of this\nterrible labyrinth . . . there must be some one whom you can trust\n. . .\"\n\nShe checked herself, and a quick hot blush rose to her cheeks. She\nthought that she had detected a quick flash in his eyes at these last\nwords of hers, a flash which had caused that sudden rush of blood to\nher temples, but which was extinguished almost as soon as it arose: he\nsaid quite naturally and tonelessly:\n\n\"There is no one. How could there be?\"\n\n\"But surely, surely,\" she repeated with growing, obstinate vehemence,\n\"you can think of something to do . . . you have the means . . . you\nare rich . . . have you no enthusiasms, milor?\"\n\n\"Oh! . . .\" he said deprecatingly, \"so few! . . . they are scarce\nworthy of the name. . . .\"\n\n\"No thought how to help your friend who is in fear and peril of his\nlife? . . . Heavens above us, what are the men of France? Wooden dolls\nor . . .\"\n\n\"That what the women of France have made them, Madame,\" he said\nquietly.\n\n\"Then you have no thought, or initiative how to help your friend?\" she\nretorted.\n\nHe had noted the ring of scorn in her voice, the return of that\nhaughty and obstinate self-will, which would for ever stand between\nher and happiness. His expression suddenly hardened, as he looked at\nher flashing eyes and the contemptuous curl of the exquisite lips, all\nthe gentleness went out of his face, the latent tenderness which she\nhad wilfully ignored, and his voice, no longer softly mocking, became\nhard and bitter in its tones.\n\n\"I?\" he said with a slight uplifting of his brow and a\nself-deprecating droop of the lip, \"surely, Madame, you are pleased to\njest. I am no statesman, no politician, I scarce have a sufficiency\nof brains to be a figure head in an administration. I have never been\ntaught to think.\"\n\n\"You are mocking me, milor,\" she said haughtily.\n\n\"Nothing is further from my thoughts. I have far too much respect for\nyour ladyship to venture on either mockery or individual thought.\"\n\nShe paused awhile, frowning and impatient, angered beyond bounds, too,\nat his attitude, which she was quite clever enough to see did not\nrepresent the true state of his mind. No doubt he desired to punish\nher for her contempt of him that morning. She would have liked to read\nthe expression in his face, to know something of what was going on\nbehind that straight, handsome brow, and the eyes always so gentle,\nyet so irritating now in this semblance of humility. She thought\ncertainly that the outline of the jaw suggested obstinacy--the\nobstinacy of the inherently weak. If she had not wanted his help so\nmuch, she would have left him then and there, in scorn and in wrath,\nonly too glad that sentiment had not led her into more excuses or\nexplanations--a prayer for forgiveness mayhap. She was not a little\nirritated with herself too, for she felt that she had made a wrong\nstart: she was quite sure that his supineness, at any rate with regard\nto the fate of the Stuart prince, was assumed. There must be a way of\nappealing to that loyalty which she knew he cherished for his friend,\nsome means of breaking down that barrier of resentment which he had\nevidently set up against her.\n\nOh! if it had been a few months ago, when he still loved her, before\nIrene de Stainville. . . She paused in this train of thought, her mind\nnot daring to travel further along it; it was such a wide, such a\nglorious possibility that that one little \"if\" suggested, that her\nheart quivered with renewed agony, and the weak tears, of which she\nwas so ashamed, insisted on coming to her eyes.\n\nIf only his love for her was not dead, how easy her task would have\nbeen! It would have fired him to enthusiasm now, caused him to forget\nhis resentment against her in this great work yet to be accomplished,\nand instead of asking him for passive help she could have incited him\nto a deed of loyalty and of courage. But now she was too proud to\ncontinue her appeal: she thought that she had done her best, and had\nnot even succeeded in breaking through the icy reserve and resentment\nwhich in his heart had taken the place of silent and humble worship.\n\n\"Milor,\" she said with sudden determination, and in the authoritative\nmanner which was more habitual to her than the more emotional,\npassionately appealing mood, \"with your leave we'll cease these\nunworthy bickerings. I may have been hasty in my actions this morning.\nIf so I pray you not to vent your anger against your friend. If I have\nwronged you by taking you at your word, when a year ago you told me\nthat you would never wish to interfere in my official work, well! I\nhumbly beg you pardon, and again entreat you not to allow your friend\nto expiate the sins of your wife. You say that the men of France are\nwhat the women have made them; there I think that you are wrong--at\nleast in this: that in your mind the word woman stands for those of\nthe sex who are pure and loyal as well as those for who are not. It is\nnot the women of France who have made the men, milor, rather it is the\nmen who--looking to the Pompadours, the Irene de Stainvilles, not only\nfor companionship and for pleasure, but also, heaven help them! for\nideals--have made the women what they are! But enough of this. You no\ndoubt think me wordy and tedious, and neither understand, nor wish to\nunderstand that there may be honour and chivalry in a far greater\ndegree in the heart of a woman, than in that of the more selfish sex.\nI have asked for your advice in all simplicity and loyalty,\nacknowledging the sin I have committed and asking you to help me in\natoning for it, in a way useful to your friend. This appeal for advice\nyou have met with sneers and bitter mockery: on my soul, milor if I\ncould now act without your assistance I would do so, for in all the\nhumiliation which I have had to endure to-day, none has been more\ngalling or more hard to bear believe me, than that which I must now\nendure through finding myself, in a matter essentially vital to my\nheart and even to my reason, dependent upon your help.\"\n\nHe could hear her voice trembling a little in spite of her efforts at\nself-control. He knew quite well that at this moment she spoke the\ntruth, and these last words of hers, which for many a long day\nafterward rang persistently in his ears, represented to him ever\nafterward the very acme of mental--aye! and physical--pain which one\nhuman being could inflict on another. At the time it absolutely seemed\nunendurable: it seemed to him that under the blow, thus coldly dealt\nby those same beautiful lips, for which his own ached with an\nintensity of passionate longing, either his life or his reason must\ngive way. The latter probably, for life is more tenacious and more\ncruel in its tenacity: yet if reason went, then Heaven alone could\nhelp him, for he would either kill her or outrage her beyond the hope\nof pardon.\n\n\"Therefore, milor,\" she resumed after a slight pause, unconscious\nevidently of the intense cruelty of her words, \"I will beg of you not\nto make it harder for me than need be. I must ask this help from you,\nin order to succeed, if humanly possible, in outwitting the infamous\nwork of a gang of traitors. Will you, at least, give me this help I\nneed?\"\n\n\"If it lies within my power,\" he replied; \"I pray you to command\nMadame.\"\n\n\"I am thinking of sending a messenger post haste to the commander of\n_Le Monarque_ with orders to set sail at once for Scotland,\" she\ncontinued in matter-of-fact tones. \"I should want a fresh copy of the\nmap where Prince Charles Edward is in hiding, and to make assurance\ndoubly sure a letter from you to the prince, asking him to trust\nCaptain Barre implicitly. _Le Monarque_ I know can reach Scotland long\nere _Le Levantin_ is ready for sea, and my idea had been originally to\ncommission her to take the prince and his friends on board, and then\nto skirt the west coast of Ireland, reaching Brittany or mayhap the\nPyrenees by a circuitous route. I have firm belief that it is not too\nlate to send this messenger, milor, and thus to put my original plan\ninto execution. And if you will give me a new map and full directions\nand your signet ring for the prince, I feel confident that I can find\nsomeone whom I could thoroughly trust . . .\"\n\n\"There is no one whom you could thoroughly trust with such an errand,\nMadame!\" he said drily.\n\n\"I must risk that, milor. The crisis has become so acute that I must\ndo something to avert that awful catastrophe.\"\n\n\"Betrayal would be the inevitable result.\"\n\n\"I entreat you to leave that to me,\" she urged firmly. \"I know I can\nfind someone, all I ask is for the map, and a word and signet ring\nfrom you.\"\n\nShe was leaning forward now, eager and enthusiastic again, self-willed\nand domineering, determined that he should do what she wished. Her\neyes were glowing, the marble was indeed endowed with life; she\ngleamed like a jewel, white and fragile-looking, in this dull and\nsombre room, and he forgetting for the moment her cruelty of awhile\nago was loth to let her go, to speak the harsh words which anon would\nhave to be said, and which would send her resentful, contemptuous,\nperhaps heartbroken, out of his sight again.\n\nWould it not have been ten thousand times more simple to throw pride,\njust anger, reason to the winds, to fall at those exquisite feet, to\nencircle that glittering marble with passionately tremulous arms, to\nswear fealty, slavery, obedience to her whims.\n\nHow she would smile, and how softly and tenderly would the flush of\nvictory tinge those pale cheeks with delicate rose! to see it\ngradually chase away the pearl-like tone of her skin, to see her eyes\nbrighten at his word, to feel perhaps the tiny hand tremble with joy\nas it lay for sheer gratitude a few brief seconds in his, was not that\nwell worth the barren victory of a man's pride over a woman's\nself-will?\n\nShe had thought that he would have yielded at her first word, would at\nonce have fawned at her feet, kissing her hand, swearing that he was\nher slave. He had done it once . . . a year ago, and why not now\nagain? Then she had smiled on him, had allowed him to kneel, to kiss\nher gown, anon had yielded her cold fingers to his kiss; he had reaped\na year of misery for that one moment's joy, and now, just for the\nspace of a few seconds he was again assailed with an awful temptation\nto throw prudence and pride away, to enjoy one golden hour--less\nperhaps--but glorious and fulsome whilst it lasted, until it gave way\nonce more to humiliation, far worse to bear than heretofore.\n\nThe temptation for those few brief seconds was overwhelming, and 'twas\nfortunate that he stood in shadow, else she had seen signs of an awful\nconflict in that young and handsome face which she had been wont to\nsee so gentle and so placid. But he knew that in her, pride had by now\nabsolutely got the upper hand: sorrow had laid down her arms and\nconstituted herself a prisoner of war, following meekly behind the\ntriumphal chariot of her conquering rival.\n\nAnd because of that, because he knew that there was not one spark yet\nin her heart which Love had kindled, that Love itself was still lying\ndormant within her, gagged and bound even in his sleep, kept in\nsubjection thus pinioned and helpless by masterful self-will and by\nobstinate pride, he would not yield to the temptation of culling the\nDead Sea fruit, that would inevitably turn to ashes, even as his lips\nfirst tasted its fleeting, if intoxicating savour.\n\nShe had half risen from her chair leaning across the bureau, eager,\nexcited, tremulous, sure of victory. Paper and pen lay close to her\nhand, smiling she pointed to these:\n\n\"Oh! I pray you, milor,\" she said with passionate fervour, \"do not\ndelay! Every hour, every minute is precious . . . I swear to you that\nI'll find a messenger. He'll not know the purport of his errand. . . .\nOh! I assure you I'll play the part of indifference to perfection!\n. . . The packet to the commander of _Le Monarque_ will seem of the\nmost insignificant kind. . . . I'll not even order the messenger to\nhurry . . . just to guard the packet as inviolate as any secret of\nState. . . . Nay! hundreds of such messages have to be trusted to\nindifferent hands, in the course of a single transaction of the\nnation's business. Believe me, milor, there is not cause for fear! _Le\nMonarque_ can put to sea within an hour of receiving my orders, and\nPrince Charles Edward Stuart and his friends will be safely out of\nreach, ere _Le Levantin_ unfurls her sails, and pins to her masthead\nthe pennant of traitors. . . .\"\n\n\"But you do not speak, milor,\" she said suddenly changing the tone of\nher voice, all eagerness gone from her manner, a strange, nameless\nanxiety gripping her heart, \"will you not do this little I ask? . . .\"\n\n\"It is impossible, Madame,\" he said curtly.\n\n\"Impossible? . . . Why? . . .\"\n\nHer voice now was harsh, trenchant, as it had been when she hurled a\nloud insult at Gaston de Stainville through his wife. She was on her\nfeet, tall and erect; a statue once more, white to the lips, cold and\nhaughty, rigid too, save for the slight trembling of her hands and the\ntremulous quiver of her mouth when she spoke.\n\nAs he did not reply to her question, she said impatiently:\n\n\"Will you give me a reason for this unexplainable refusal, milor?\"\n\n\"No. I refuse, that is all.\"\n\n\"This is not your last word?\"\n\n\"It is my last word.\"\n\n\"Would you have me think that you are at one with the treacherous\nscheme, milor? and that you do not desire the safety of the Stuart\nprince?\"\n\nShe had raised her voice, boldly accusing him, inwardly knowing that\nthe accusation was groundless, yet wishing to goad him now into\npassion, into explanation, above all into acquiescence if it still lay\nin her power to force it.\n\nBut he took the insult with apparent calm, shrugged his shoulders and\nsaid quietly:\n\n\"As you please.\"\n\n\"Or is it . . . is it that you do not trust me? . . . that you think I\n. . . ?\"\n\nShe could not finish the sentence, nor put into words the awful\nsuggestion which had sprung like a stinging viper straight across the\ntrain of her thoughts. Her eyes dazed and burning tried to pierce the\ngloom wherein he stood, but the flickering light of the candles only\nthrew weird, fantastic gleams upon his face, which suddenly seemed\nstrange, unknown, incomprehensible to her. His figure appeared\npreternaturally tall, the sober gray of his coat looked like the pall\nof an avenging ghost. He was silent and had made no sign of protest,\nwhen she framed the terrible query.\n\nA bitter, an awful humiliation overwhelmed her. She felt as if right\nwithin her heart something had snapped and crumbled, which nothing on\nearth could ever set up again.\n\nShe said nothing more, but she could not altogether repress a\nheartbroken moan, which rose from the intensity of her mental agony.\n\nThen she turned and with head thrown back, with silent, trembling lips\nand half-closed eyes she walked slowly out of the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nTHE FATE OF THE STUART PRINCE\n\n\nLydie hardly knew how she reached her apartments. Earlier in the day\nshe had thought once or twice that she had reached the deepest abyss\nof sorrow and humiliation into which it was possible for a woman of\npride to descend. When her husband first asked an explanation from\nher, and taxed her with lending an ear to the King's base proposals;\nwhen she found that her own father, whom she respected and loved, had\nhimself delved deeply in the mire of treachery; when she stood face to\nface with Gaston de Stainville and realized that he was an infamous\nliar and she a weak, confiding fool; when Irene had accused her\npublicly of scheming that which she would have given her life's blood\nto avert, all these were moments when she felt that the shame of them\nwas more than she could bear.\n\nYet how simple and childish, how paltry seemed the agony of those\nmental tortures in comparison with that she endured now.\n\nShe felt as if she had received a blow in the face, a blow which had\nleft a hideous, disfiguring mark on her which everyone henceforth\nwould see: the scarlet letter of ignominy with which in the New World\nbeyond the seas a puritanic inquisition branded the shameless\noutcasts. By her husband's silence rather than by his words she had\nbeen branded with a mark of infamy.\n\nYe saints and angels above, how terribly it hurt!\n\nYet why did she suffer so? Was it only because she had failed to\nobtain that which she almost begged for on her knees? Lydie, proud,\ndictatorial, domineering Lydie, felt that she had humiliated herself\nbeyond what she would have thought possible less than twelve hours\nago, and she had been refused.\n\nWas it that, that made her heart, her head, her very limbs ache with\nalmost unendurable agony?\n\nHer mind--though almost on the verge of madness--retained just one\nglimmer of reason. It answered \"No! the pain has deeper roots, more\nmysterious, at present incomprehensible, and death-dealing in their\ntenacity.\"\n\nHer husband thought that if he entrusted her with a letter for the\nStuart prince, she might use that letter for treacherous ends. That\nwas the reason of his refusal. He so hated, so despised her that his\nmind classed her as one of the most ignoble of her sex!\n\nWell! Awhile ago, in the Queen's antechamber, Irene de Stainville had\npublicly accused her of selling her royal friend for gold. Most people\nthere had believed Irene readily enough! That had hurt too, but not so\nmuch.\n\nThen why this? Why these terrible thoughts which went hammering in her\nmind? whispers of peace to escape from this racking torture? peace\nthat could only be found in death!\n\n\"Great God, am I going mad?\"\n\nMonsieur Achille had been accompanying Madame la Marquise on her way\nalong the corridors; he was carrying a candelabrum, wherein four wax\ncandles spluttered and flickered in the incessant draught. Lydie had\nbeen unconscious of the man's presence, but she had followed the\nlight mechanically, her eyes fixed on the four yellowish flames which\nlooked like mocking mouths that laughed, and emitted a trail of black\nsmoke, foul as the pestilential breath of shame.\n\nArrived at the door of her own antechamber, she was met by one of her\nliveried servants, who told her that Monsieur le Duc d'Aumont was\nwithin and awaiting to see her. To her hastily put query, the man\nreplied that Monsieur le Duc had arrived about half an hour ago, and,\nhearing that Madame la Marquise was closeted with milor, he had\nelected to wait.\n\nThis visit from her father at this hour of the night meant a grave\ncrisis, of course. At once Lydie's mind flew back to the Stuart\nprince. She had almost forgotten him since she left her husband's\nroom. It seemed as if the overwhelming misery of that silent and\ndeadly indictment had weighed down all other thoughts, until they sank\ninto complete insignificance.\n\nVaguely, too, she had the sensation that there was no immediate\nnecessity for her to rack her overtired brain to-night on the subject\nof the Jacobite's fate. She had at least six clear days before her,\nbefore _Le Levantin_, which was to start on the dire expedition, could\nbe ready to put to sea. There was _Le Monarque_, on the other hand,\nquite ready to sail within an hour of receiving her orders. And\nCaptain Barre was an honest man, a gallant sailor; he would only be\ntoo willing to make top speed in order to circumvent a treacherous\nplot, which he would abhor if he knew of it.\n\nTrue, Lydie had now no means of locating the fugitives exactly, but\nwith a six days' start of _Le Levantin_ this want of precise\nknowledge need not necessarily prove fatal. She could trust to her\nmemory somewhat, for she had repeatedly studied and fingered the map;\nshe could draw something approximate from memory, and Captain Barre's\ndetermination and enthusiasm would surely do the rest.\n\nThese suggestions all rushed into her mind directly she heard that her\nfather had come to visit her at this late hour. At first her desire\nwas to avoid seeing him at risk even of offending him: but in spite of\nall that she had gone through, Lydie still retained sufficient\npresence of mind not to allow any impulse to rule her at such a\ncritical moment. She forced herself to reflect on the Stuart prince\nand on him alone, on his danger and the treacherous plot against him,\nfor at least twenty seconds, time enough to realize that it was\nabsolutely necessary that she should see her father, in order to glean\nfrom him if possible every detail of the proposed expedition. She\nwould indeed be helpless if she remained in ignorance of what had been\nplanned between the King, Gaston, and her father. Perhaps--who\nknows?--in accordance with the habits of a lifetime, the Duke might\neven at this moment be anxious to consult his daughter--his helpmeet\nin all such matters--as to the final arrangements for the equipment of\n_Le Levantin_.\n\nSatisfied with her conclusions, she therefore went straight into the\nboudoir where the lacquey said that Monsieur le Duc was waiting.\n\nThe first look at his benign face proved to her that he, at least, was\nnot in any trouble. Whatever his daughter's views on the subject might\nbe, he evidently was not altogether dissatisfied with the events of\nthe day. He still wore a perturbed look, certainly; the scene which\nhad occurred in Her Majesty's throne-room would not tend to decrease\nhis mental worry; but beyond the slightly troubled look in his kindly\neyes, and the obvious solicitude with which he took her hand and led\nher to a low divan, he seemed fairly serene.\n\n\"Well?\" he said in a tone of anxious query.\n\n\"Well, father dear?\"\n\n\"Your husband . . . what did he say?\"\n\nShe looked at him, a little bewildered, with a stupid, vacant stare\nwhich puzzled him.\n\n\"What should he have said, father dear?\" she asked. \"I do not\nunderstand.\"\n\n\"About the fracas to-night, my child. Was he there when Irene de\nStainville spoke up so indiscreetly?\"\n\n\"No . . . no . . . I mean yes . . .\" she said vaguely, \"yes, milor was\nthere; he heard every word which Irene de Stainville said.\"\n\n\"Well? What did he say?\" he repeated with marked impatience. \"Lydie,\nmy child, this is not like you. . . . Cannot you see that I am\nanxious? . . . I have been waiting here for over an half hour in a\nperfect agony of uncertainty. . . . Your servants told me you were\ncloseted with milor. . . . You must tell me what he said.\"\n\n\"He said nothing, father,\" she replied simply.\n\n\"Nothing?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nMonsieur le Duc looked at her very keenly, but her eyes were clear now\nand met his straight and full. There was obviously no deceit there, no\ndesire to conceal more serious matters from him. He shrugged his\nshoulders, in token that he gave up all desire to understand. His\nson-in-law had always been a shadowy personality to him, and this\nattitude of his now, in face of the public scandal resting on his\nwife's name, was quite beyond Monsieur le Duc's comprehension.\n\nHad Lydie told him that her husband had heaped torrents of abuse on\nher, and had concluded a noisy scene by striking her, he would have\nbeen very angry, but he would have understood.\n\n\"Hm!\" he said placidly, \"these English are mad, of a truth; we men of\nhonour here cannot really comprehend them. Nevertheless, my dear\nLydie, I suppose I, as your father, must be thankful that he did not\nlay hands on you, for English husbands are notoriously brutal. You are\nquite sure that you have nothing to complain of in your husband's\nconduct?\"\n\n\"Quite sure, father dear.\"\n\n\"I had come prepared to take you away with me. My coach is below and I\nam driving to Chateau d'Aumont to-night. Would you like to come?\"\n\n\"Not to-night, dear,\" she replied serenely, and her father was glad to\nnote that a slight smile hovered round her lips. \"I am a little tired,\nand will go straight to bed. . . . But to-morrow I'll come.\"\n\n\"Permanently?\"\n\n\"If you will have me.\"\n\n\"Well! until you go to your Chateau of Vincennes, you know my views on\nthat subject?\"\n\n\"Yes, father dear. . . . We will talk of that another time. . . . I am\nvery tired to-night.\"\n\n\"I understand that, my child,\" said Monsieur le Duc rather fussily\nnow, and clearing his throat, as if there was something which still\noppressed him and of which he would have liked to speak before leaving\nher.\n\nThere was that awkward pause, the result of a want of mutual\nunderstanding between two people who hitherto have been all in all to\neach other, but whom certain untoward events have suddenly drawn\napart. Lydie sincerely wished that her father would go. She had much\nto think about, a great deal to do, and the strain of keeping up a\nsemblance of serenity was very trying to her overwrought nerves. He on\nthe other hand felt uncomfortable in her presence: he left quite angry\nwith himself for not being able to discuss freely with her the subject\nmatter which was uppermost in his mind. There were one or two details\nin connection with the expedition to the Scottish coast that he very\nmuch wanted to talk over with his daughter. The habits of a lifetime\ngave him the desire to consult her about these details, just as he had\nbeen wont to do on all public and official matters. He had come to her\napartments chiefly for that purpose. Was she not at one with him, with\nthe King and Gaston over the scheme? She had given substantial proof\nthat she favoured the expedition. His Majesty had thanked her for her\nhelp: she had rendered such assistance as now made the whole affair\nnot only feasible but easy of accomplishment.\n\nIt was therefore passing strange that Monsieur le Duc d'Aumont still\nfelt an unaccountable bashfulness in her presence when referring to\nthe Stuart prince at all.\n\nSo he went to work in a circuitous way, for there was another matter\nthat troubled him, but less so than the expedition: therefore,\nperhaps, he spoke of it first.\n\n\"I presume, my dear child,\" he said lightly, \"that you are\nsufficiently a woman of the world to understand that some sort of\nreparation is due from your husband to Monsieur de Stainville.\"\n\n\"Reparation? . . .\" she asked. \"For what?\"\n\nAgain she stared at him blankly, and with that vague expression of\npuzzlement which irritated whilst it half-frightened him.\n\n\"You were there, my dear,\" he said impatiently, \"you know . . . and of\ncourse you must have seen . . .\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Milor jeered at Gaston, then tripped him up with his foot, so that\nMonsieur de Stainville measured his full length on the floor.\"\n\n\"I did not notice. . . .\" she said simply.\n\n\"But many people did . . . enough at all events to give Monsieur de\nStainville the initiative in the necessary reparation. He was the\ninsulted party.\"\n\n\"Oh! a duel, you mean,\" she said indifferently, \"yes, I suppose my\nhusband will fight Monsieur de Stainville if His Majesty will grant\nthem leave.\"\n\n\"Gaston will not appeal to His Majesty, and milor cannot very well\nrefuse to meet him. The King has oft declared his intention of\npermanently suppressing all duelling just as it has been done in\nEngland. Even to-night after the unfortunate fracas, when I had the\nhonour of paying my final respects, His Majesty said to me: 'If milor\nEglinton and Monsieur de Stainville fight and one of them is killed,\nwe'll hang the survivor!'\"\n\n\"Then they'll not fight, you think?\"\n\nMonsieur le Duc stared at his daughter. Such complete indifference as\nto her husband's actions in so grave a matter passed the bounds of\ncorrect behaviour.\n\n\"_Mais oui!_ they will fight, my dear!\" he said sternly. \"You know as\nwell as I do that Gaston could not pocket the slight put upon him by\nmilor without covering himself with ridicule. But the duel need not be\nserious . . . a scratch or two and no more. . . . Gaston is a perfect\nswordsman . . . he never misses his man,\" added the Duke hesitatingly.\n\"Is milor clever with the foils?\"\n\n\"I do not know.\"\n\n\"He has never fought a duel to your knowledge?\"\n\n\"I think never.\"\n\n\"Whilst Gaston's skill is famous. . . . But, my dear, you need have no\nanxiety. . . . It was also with a view to reassuring you on the\nsubject that I have sought you so late. . . . You will believe your\nfather's word, Lydie, if he tells you that your husband is in no grave\ndanger at the hands of Gaston.\"\n\n\"I thank you, father dear,\" she rejoined with the same natural, even\ntone of voice which should have tranquillised him as to her mental\ncondition, but which somehow failed to do so.\n\n\"Gaston must take up the matter . . . you understand that. . . . It is\nquite public and . . . he would be laughed at if he appealed for leave\nto fight from His Majesty . . . the matter was not serious and the\nresult will be likewise. . . . Gaston will administer a slight\npunishment to milor . . . such a perfect swordsman, you understand,\ncan select the very place on his opponent's body where he will inflict\nthe scratch . . . it will be the shoulder perhaps . . . or . . . or\n. . . the cheek . . . nothing to be anxious about. . .\"\n\n\"I am not anxious, father dear,\" she said with a serene smile, amused\nin spite of herself at his many circumlocutions, his obvious\nconfusion, and his still quite apparent wish to speak of one more\nmatter which seemed to be weighing on his mind.\n\n\"Is that all that you wished to say to me, dear?\" she said gently,\n\"for if so I can assure you that you need not be troubled on my\naccount. I am neither anxious nor upset. . . . Milor I feel confident\nwill take tender care of his shoulder . . . or of his cheek just as he\ndoes of his comfort and of his . . . his dignity.\"\n\n\"And you will not take it amiss from me, my dear, if I do not offer to\nbe one of your husband's seconds in the affair?\" he asked suddenly,\nthrowing off his hesitation and speaking more frankly.\n\n\"Certainly not, father dear. . . . I feel sure that milor himself\nwould not have suggested it. . . .\"\n\n\"My position near His Majesty . . . you understand, my dear,\" he\nexplained volubly, \"and also my . . . our association with Gaston.\n. . .\"\n\n\"Certainly--certainly,\" she repeated, emphasizing her words, \"our\nassociation with Gaston. . . .\"\n\n\"And he really is acting like a perfect gentleman . . . a man of\nhonour. . . .\"\n\n\"Indeed?\"\n\n\"His enthusiasm, his courage, and devotion have been quite marvellous.\nAnd though we shall primarily owe the success of our enterprise to\nyou, my dear, yet His Majesty feels as I do, that we also owe much to\nMonsieur de Stainville. Ah! _mon Dieu!_ what it is to be young!\"\n\n\"What has Monsieur de Stainville done, dear, to arouse your special\nenthusiasm?\" she asked.\n\n\"You shall judge of it yourself, my dear. After the esclandre provoked\nby Irene to-night, the publicity given to our scheme, we held a\nhurried boudoir meeting, at which His Majesty and Madame de Pompadour\nwere present, as well as myself and Gaston. We all felt that you too\nshould have been there, dear, but you had gone with milor, and . . .\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, never mind about me, father,\" she interrupted impatiently,\nseeing that he was getting lost in the mazes of his polite apologies.\n\"You held a boudoir meeting. What did you decide? . . .\"\n\n\"That after the publicity given to the main idea of our scheme, you\nunderstand,\" he rejoined, \"it would be no longer safe to wait for its\nexecution until _Le Levantin_ was ready for sea. Something had to be\nrisked, of course, but on the whole we all thought that now that the\nmatter had become 'le secret de Polichinelle' a six days' delay would\nbe dangerous, if not fatal to success. You were not there, Lydie,\" he\nrepeated diffidently, \"we could not consult you. . . .\"\n\n\"No, no! Then what did you decide?\"\n\n\"That we must send _Le Monarque_ off at once.\"\n\n\"_Le Monarque_? . . . at once? . . .\"\n\n\"Yes! she is quite ready, so you told me this morning. And though we\nfeared that Captain Barre might be too firm an adherent of the Stuart\ncause to be altogether reliable, still--as we had your own letter--we\nfinally decided that we had better trust him now, rather than wait for\n_Le Levantin_. . . . I think we did right, do you not? . . . Lydie.\n. . . Lydie . . . child, what is it?\"\n\nThe desperately anxious query had its justification in Lydie's\nterrible pallor, the wild dilation of her pupils, the dark purple\nrings which circled her eyes.\n\nAs her father spoke she had risen from the divan, and now she seemed\nunable to stand; she was trembling from head to foot, her hands were\nheld out before her, as in a pathetic appeal for physical support. In\na moment his arm was round her, and with gentle force he drew her back\nto the couch, pressing her head against his shoulder.\n\n\"Lydie . . . Lydie, dear . . . I am sure you are ill.\"\n\nBut already she had recovered from this sudden attack of faintness and\ndizziness, of which, with characteristic impatience for all feminine\nweaknesses, she was now thoroughly ashamed. Her nervous system had\nreceived so many severe shocks in the course of this terrible and\nmemorable day, that it was small wonder that this last awful blow\nstruck her physically as well as mentally.\n\n\"No, no, dear father,\" she said as lightly as she could for she still\nfelt very faint and ill, \"I am quite well, I assure you . . . please\n. . . please . . .\" she urged earnestly, \"do not worry about me now,\nbut tell me quite clearly--and as briefly as you can--exactly what are\nyour plans at this moment . . . yours and Gaston's, with regard to the\nexpedition against the Stuart prince . . . you spoke of a duel just\nnow . . . and then of Monsieur de Stainville's enthusiasm and courage.\n. . . I . . . I am a little confused . . . and I would like to\nunderstand.\"\n\n\"I will tell you as briefly as I can, my dear,\" he rejoined, not\nfeeling altogether reassured, and regarding her with loving anxiety.\n\"We decided that, instead of waiting for _Le Levantin_ to be ready for\nsea, we would send _Le Monarque_, and instruct Captain Barre in\naccordance with the plan and the letter which you gave us, and the\nsecret orders framed by His Majesty and myself. _Le Monarque_ having\ngot the Stuart and his friends on board will make straight for the\nnorth-west coast of England, and land the Jacobites at the first\npossible port, where they can be handed over to the English\nauthorities. Once this was settled, Gaston immediately offered to\nstart for Le Havre at dawn with the secret orders. We are not really\nafraid of Captain Barre's possible disloyalty--and, of course, he is\ncompelled to obey orders or suffer for his insubordination, which he\nis not likely to contemplate. On the whole I think we may safely say\nthat we run far less risk by sending _Le Monarque_ than by waiting for\n_Le Levantin_: and Gaston has full powers to promise Captain Barre a\nheavy bribe in accordance with the speed which _Le Monarque_ will\nmake. After that His Majesty was pleased to dismiss Monsieur de\nStainville and myself, being most specially gratified with Gaston's\nenthusiastic offer to ride at breakneck speed to Le Havre, as soon as\nhe could get to horse. Outside the boudoir, Gaston explained to me,\nhowever, that he could not shirk the duel with Lord Eglinton: his\nseconds, Monsieur de Belle-Isle and Monsieur de Lugeac, already had\nhis instructions and would wait on milor to-night: to put it off now\nwould be to cover himself with ridicule and to risk social ostracism;\nthe affront put upon his wife could not be allowed to rest until after\nhis own return. But the duel could take place at dawn, and then he\ncould get to horse half an hour later. . . . So you see, my dear,\nthat the duel cannot--because of these weighty reasons--have any\nserious consequences. As for our expedition, methinks everything now\nis most satisfactorily arranged, as Gaston swears that he will reach\nLe Havre ere the shades of the evening fall upon the sea.\"\n\nLydie had listened quite quietly to this long explanation, taking in\nevery detail of the project, lest anything should escape her. Her\nfather could indeed be completely reassured. She was perfectly calm,\napparently cheerful, and when he had finished speaking she thanked him\nquite naturally and expressed approval of all that had been done.\n\n\"Everything is beautifully planned and arranged, my dear father,\" she\nsaid pleasantly, \"methinks I cannot do better than take a rest. I fear\nI have been overwrought all day and have caused you much anxiety. All\nis for the best now, is it not? . . . Shall we both go to bed?\"\n\nMonsieur le Duc sighed with satisfaction. He seemed to have found a\nlong-lost daughter. This was the one he knew, self-possessed,\nclear-headed, a comfort and a guide.\n\nHe drew her to him and kissed her tenderly, and if there was a\nsuggestion of shrinking, of withdrawal in the young body, he was\ncertainly too preoccupied to notice it. He bade her \"good-night,\" and\nthen with obvious relief and a light, elastic step, he finally went\nout of the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nM. DE STAINVILLE'S SECONDS\n\n\nWhen Monsieur Achille, having escorted Madame la Marquise as far as\nher apartments, once more retraced his sedate footsteps toward those\noccupied by Lord Eglinton, he was much surprised to find the worthy\nBaptiste Durand in the octagonal room which gave immediately on\nmilor's study.\n\nThe wizened little man looked singularly upset; he had a couple of\nheavy books under his arm: and two large white quills, one behind each\near, gave him the look of a frightened stork.\n\nIt was long past the usual hour when M. Durand laden with his bulky\nbooks habitually entered the Marquis's private room and remained\ncloseted therein with milor until long past midnight. Every evening at\nthe self-same hour he came to the octagonal room, passed the time of\nday with Monsieur Achille and then went in, to milor: he always\ncarried a leather bag filled with papers neatly tied in bundles, and\nhe wore a somewhat anxious look when he entered and one of relief when\nhe finally departed. Monsieur Achille had often bent his broad and\nmajestic back, in order to bring his ear down to the level of the\nkeyhole of the door, through which Monsieur Durand invariably\ndisappeared at ten o'clock in the evening; but all the satisfaction\nwhich his curiosity obtained was the sound of two voices, one steady\nand low and the other somewhat shrill, without any individual or\ncomprehensible sentence detaching itself from the irritating babel.\n\nAnd when M. Durand came out of the room after midnight, he bade\nMonsieur Achille a curt good-night and invariably refused any\ninformation with regard to the work he did for milor at that late hour\nof the night.\n\nWhen closely pressed he would vaguely say: \"Accounts!\" which of course\nwas ridiculous. Monsieur Achille had never heard of a nobleman\ntroubling himself about accounts, at the time when most people of\nconsideration were either at _petits soupers_ or else comfortably in\nbed.\n\nAs time went on Monsieur Achille ceased to take any interest in these\nnightly proceedings; they were so monotonous and so regular, that they\nwere no longer exciting. But to-night everything seemed changed. M.\nDurand instead of marching straight through with his books into the\nstudy, stood in the middle of the room, a veritable picture of\nhelpless perturbation.\n\n\"Why, M. Durand,\" said Achille greatly astonished, \"what ails you? You\nlook as if you had seen a ghost.\"\n\n\"Sh!---sh!---sh!\" whispered the timorous little man, indicating with a\njerk of his lean shoulder the distant door of the study, \"do you hear\nthat?\"\n\nMonsieur Achille bent his ear to listen. But strive how he might he\ncould hear nothing but the great bracket-clock on the wall ticking\nmonotonously. He shrugged his shoulders to indicate that the worthy\nBaptiste had been dreaming, but there was a certain look in the\nwizened face which caused him to tiptoe toward the study door and once\nmore to bring his ear down to the level of the keyhole.\n\nThen he shook his head, and tiptoed back to the centre of the room.\n\n\"I can hear nothing,\" he whispered. \"Are you sure he is in there?\"\n\n\"Quite, quite sure,\" replied Durand.\n\n\"Then why don't you go in as usual?\"\n\n\"I . . . I can't!\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"I . . . I don't know. . . . I seemed to hear such a funny sound as if\n. . .\" he paused a moment searching for the words that would best\nrender his impression of what he had heard. Finding none apparently,\nhe reiterated:\n\n\"It is a very funny sound.\"\n\n\"Perhaps milor was asleep and snoring,\" suggested the practical\nAchille.\n\n\"No, no,\" protested Durand very energetically.\n\n\"Or ill . . .\"\n\n\"Ah yes! . . . perhaps . . .\" stammered the little man, \"perhaps milor\nis ill.\"\n\n\"Then I'll to him at once.\"\n\nAnd before M. Durand could prevent him--which undoubtedly he would\nhave done--Achille had gone back to the study door and loudly knocked\nthereat.\n\nAt first there was no answer. M. Achille knocked again, and yet again,\nuntil a voice from within suddenly said:\n\n\"Who is it?\"\n\n\"Achille, M. le Marquise!\" responded the worthy with alacrity.\n\n\"I want nothing,\" said the voice. \"Tell Durand that I shall not need\nhim to-night.\"\n\nM. Durand nearly dropped his heavy books on the floor.\n\n\"Not want me!\" he ejaculated; \"we shall get terribly in arrears!\"\n\n\"Will milor go to bed?\" again queried M. Achille.\n\n\"No!\" came somewhat impatiently from within. \"Do not wait up for me.\nIf I want you later I will ring.\"\n\nAchille looked at M. Durand and the worthy Baptiste returned the look\nof puzzlement and wonder. Both shrugged their shoulders.\n\n\"There's nothing to be done, my good Baptiste,\" said Achille at last;\n\"you had best take your paraphernalia away and go to bed. I know that\ntone of voice, I have heard it once before when . . . but never mind\nthat,\" he added abruptly checking himself, as if he feared to commit\nan indiscretion, \"enough that I know if milor says, in that tone of\nvoice, that he does not want you and that you are to go away--well\nthen, my good Durand, he does not want you and you are to go away.\n. . . Do you see?\"\n\nAnd having delivered himself of this phrase of unanswerable logic he\npointed toward the door.\n\nM. Durand was about to take his friend's sound advice, when a loud\nring broke in upon the silence which had fallen over this portion of\nthe stately palace.\n\n\"A visitor at this late hour,\" mused Monsieur Achille. \"Ma foi!\nmethinks perhaps milor was expecting a fair and tardy visitor. . . .\neh, M. Durand? . . . and that perhaps this was the reason why you and\nI were to go away . . . eh? . . . and why you were not wanted\nto-night, . . . What?\"\n\nM. Durand was doubtful as to that, but there was no time to discuss\nthat little matter, for a second ring, louder and more peremptory than\nthe first, caused M. Achille to pull himself together, to flick at his\ncravat, and to readjust the set of his coat, whilst M. Durand loath to\nretire before he knew something of the tardy visitor, withdrew with\nbooks, bag and papers into a dark corner of the room.\n\nAlready the sound of approaching footsteps drew nearer; the visitor\nhad been admitted and was now being escorted through the reception\nrooms by the two footmen carrying torches. The next moment the doors\nleading to the official suite of apartments were thrown open, M.\nAchille put himself in position in the centre of the room, whilst a\nloud voice from the distant hall announced:\n\n\"M. le Marquis de Belle-Isle! M. le Comte de Lugeac!\"\n\nAchille's broad back was bent nearly double. The names were well known\nto him and represented, if not exactly the flower of aristocratic\nFrance, at least the invisible power which swayed her destinies. M. le\nMarquis de Belle-Isle was Madame de Pompadour's best friend, and M. de\nLugeac was her nephew.\n\n\"Your master . . . is he within?\"\n\nIt was M. de Belle-Isle who spoke; his voice was loud and peremptory,\nthe voice of a man who only recently had been in a position to\ncommand.\n\n\"Milor is . . . er . . . within, M. le Marquis,\" said Achille with\nslight hesitation. It is not often that he was taken aback when in the\nexercise of his duties, but the situation was undoubtedly delicate,\nand he had not yet made up his mind exactly how he ought to deal with\nit.\n\nNeither of the two gentlemen, however, seemed to have any intention of\nleaving him much longer in doubt.\n\n\"Go and tell him at once,\" said M. de Lugeac, \"that Monsieur le\nMarquis de Belle-Isle and myself will have to trouble him for about\ntwo minutes.\"\n\nThen as Achille seemed to be hesitating--for he did not move with any\nalacrity and his well-kept hand stroked his smooth, heavy chin--M. de\nBelle-Isle added more loudly:\n\n\"Go knave! and at once. . . . Par le diable, man! . . . how dare you\nhesitate?\"\n\nIndeed Monsieur Achille dared do that no longer. M. le Marquis de\nBelle-Isle was not a gentleman to be trifled with so he shrugged his\nmajestic shoulders, and rubbed his hands together in token that the\naffair had passed out of their keeping, and that he no longer held\nhimself responsible for any unpleasant consequences which might accrue\nfrom such unparalleled intrusion.\n\nHe strode with becoming majesty to the study door, his broad, straight\nback emphasising the protest of his whole attitude. Once more he\nknocked, but more loudly, less diffidently than before.\n\nThe voice from within queried with marked impatience:\n\n\"What is it now?\"\n\n\"An urgent call, Monsieur le Marquis!\" replied Achille in a firm\nvoice.\n\n\"I can see no one. I am busy,\" said the voice from within.\n\nM. de Belle-Isle felt that this little scene was not quite dignified;\nneither he nor M. de Lugeac was accustomed to stand behind a lacquey's\nback, parleying with a man through closed doors: therefore when\nMonsieur Achille turned to him now with a look which strove to\nindicate respectfully but firmly that the incident was closed, he\npushed him roughly aside and himself called loudly:\n\n\"Pardi, Marquis, methinks you are over-anxious to forbid your door\nto-night. I, Andre de Belle-Isle and my friend le Comte de Lugeac\ndesire a word with you. We represent M. le Comte de Stainville, and\nunless you are closeted with a lady, I summon you to open this door.\"\n\nThen as the door remained obstinately closed--too long at any rate for\nM. le Marquis's impatience--he boldly placed his hand on the knob and\nthrew it open. The heavy panels flew back, revealing Lord Eglinton\nsitting at his secretaire writing. His head was resting on his hand,\nbut he turned to look at the two gentlemen, as they stood, momentarily\nsilent and subdued in the doorway itself. He rose to greet them, but\nstared at them somewhat astonished and not a little haughtily, and he\nmade no motion requesting them to enter.\n\n\"We crave your pardon, milor,\" began Monsieur de Belle-Isle, feeling,\nas he afterward explained, unaccountably bashful and crestfallen, \"we\nwould not have intruded, M. de Lugeac and I, only that there was a\nslight formality omitted this evening without which we cannot proceed\nand which we must pray you to fulfill.\"\n\n\"What formality, Monsieur?\" asked milor courteously. \"I am afraid I do\nnot understand.\"\n\n\"The whole incident occurred very rapidly, we must admit,\" continued\nM. de Belle-Isle still standing in the doorway, still unwilling\napparently to intrude any further on this man whom he had known for\nsome time, yet who seemed to have become an utter stranger to him now:\nhaughty, grave and courteous, with an extraordinary look of aloofness\nin the face which repelled the very suggestion of familiarity. \"And\nthat is no doubt the reason, milor, why you omitted to name your\nseconds to Monsieur de Stainville.\"\n\n\"My seconds?\" repeated milor. \"I am afraid you must think me very\nstupid . . . but I still do not understand . . .\"\n\n\"But surely, milor . . .\" protested M. de Belle-Isle, a little taken\naback.\n\n\"Would you be so kind as to explain? . . . if it is necessary.\"\n\n\"Necessary? Pardi, I should not have thought that it had been\nnecessary. You, milor, in yourself also and through Madame la Marquise\nyour wife have insulted M. le Comte de Stainville and Madame la\nComtesse too. We represent M. le Comte de Stainville in this affair,\nwherein we presume that you are prepared to give him satisfaction. And\nwe have come to-night, milor, to ask you kindly to name your own\nrepresentatives so that we may arrange the details of this encounter\nin the manner pre-eminently satisfactory to M. le Comte de Stainville,\nsince he is the aggrieved party.\"\n\nGradually M. de Belle-Isle had raised his voice. His feeling of\nbashfulness had entirely left him and he felt not a little wrathful at\nthis strange _role_ which he was being made to play. It was quite\nunheard of that a gentleman who had so grossly insulted another, as\nLord Eglinton had insulted M. de Stainville, should require such\nlengthy explanations as to what the next course of events would\nnecessarily be.\n\n\"Therefore, milor,\" he continued with some acerbity as Lord Eglinton\nhad vouchsafed no reply to his tirade, \"we pray you to name your\nseconds to us, without delay, so that we may no longer intrude upon\nyour privacy.\"\n\n\"I need not do that, M. le Marquis,\" said milor quietly. \"I require no\nseconds.\"\n\n\"No seconds?\" gasped the two gentlemen with one breath.\n\n\"I am not going to fight M. de Stainville.\"\n\nIf Lord Eglinton had suddenly declared his intention of dethroning\nKing Louis and placing the crown of France on his own head, he could\nnot more have astonished his two interlocutors. Both M. de Belle-Isle\nand M. de Lugeac were in fact absolutely speechless: in all their vast\nexperience of Court life such a situation had never occurred before,\nand literally neither of them knew exactly how to deal with it. M. de\nLugeac, young and arrogant, was the first to recover his presence of\nmind. Like his successful relative Jeanne Poisson de Pompadour he had\nbeen born in the slums of Paris, his exalted fortune, following so\nquickly in the wake of the ex-victualler's wife, had given him an\nassurance and an amount of impudence which the older de Belle-Isle\nlacked, and which stood him in good stead in the present crisis.\n\n\"Are we to look on this as a formal refusal, milor?\" he now asked\nboldly.\n\n\"As you please.\"\n\n\"You will not give M. le Comte de Stainville the satisfaction usually\nagreed upon between men of honour?\"\n\n\"I will not fight M. de Stainville,\" repeated milor quietly. \"I am\nbusy with other things.\"\n\n\"But milor,\" here interposed M. de Belle-Isle testily: \"you cannot\nhave reflected on the consequences of such an act, which I myself at\nthis moment would hardly dare to characterize.\"\n\n\"You will excuse me, gentlemen,\" said Lord Eglinton with seeming\nirrelevance, \"but is there any necessity for prolonging this\ninterview?\"\n\n\"None at all,\" sneered M. de Lugeac. \"It is not our business to\ncomment on milor's conduct . . . at present,\" he added with audacious\nsignificance.\n\nBut M. de Belle-Isle, who, in spite of his undignified adherence to\nthe Pompadour and her faction, was a sprig of the old noblesse of\nFrance, was loath to see the humiliation of a high-born\ngentleman--whatever his faults might be--before such an upstart as de\nLugeac. A kindly instinct, not altogether unexplainable, caused him to\nsay encouragingly:\n\n\"Let me assure you, milor--though perhaps in this I am overstepping my\nofficial powers--that M. le Comte de Stainville has no desire to deal\nharshly with you. The fact that he is the most noted swordsman in\nFrance may perhaps be influencing you at this moment, but will you\ntrust to my old experience when I assure you that M. le Comte's noted\nskill is your very best safeguard? He will be quite content to inflict\na slight punishment on you--being a past master with his sword he can\ndo that easily, without causing you graver injury. I am telling you\nthis in confidence of course, because I know that these are his\nintentions. Moreover he starts on an important journey to-morrow and\nwould propose a very brief encounter with you at dawn, in one of the\nspinneys of the Park. A mere scratch, I assure you, you need fear no\nmore. Less he could not in all honour concede.\"\n\nA whimsical smile played round the corners of milor's mouth, chasing\nmomentarily the graver expression of his face.\n\n\"Your assurance is more than kind, M. de Belle-Isle,\" he said with\nperfect courtesy, \"but I can only repeat what I said just now, that I\nwill not fight M. de Stainville.\"\n\n\"And instead of repeating what I said just now, milor . . .\" said de\nLugeac with a wicked leer.\n\n\"You will elect to hold your tongue,\" said M. de Belle-Isle\nauthoritatively, placing his hand on the younger man's wrist.\n\nDe Lugeac, who lived in perpetual fear of doing or saying something\nwhich would inevitably betray his plebeian origin, meekly obeyed M. de\nBelle-Isle's command. The latter, though very bewildered, would be\nsure to know the correct way in which gentlemen should behave under\nthese amazing circumstances.\n\nLord Eglinton standing beside his secretaire, his face in shadow, was\nobviously waiting for these intruders to go. M. de Belle-Isle shrugged\nhis shoulders partly in puzzlement, partly in contempt; then he nodded\ncasually to milor, turned on his heel, and walked out of the doorway\ninto the octagonal room beyond, whilst M. de Lugeac imitated as best\nhe could the careless nod and the look of contempt of his older\nfriend. M. Achille stepping forward now closed the study doors behind\nthe two gentlemen, shutting out the picture of that grave, haughty man\nwho had just played the part of coward with such absolute perfection.\n\n\"Bah! these English!\" said young de Lugeac, as he made the gesture of\nspitting on the ground. \"I had not believed it, _par tous les\ndiables!_ had I not heard with mine own ears.\"\n\nBut de Belle-Isle gravely shook his head.\n\n\"I fear me the young man is only putting off the evil day. His skin\nwill have to be tough indeed if he can put up with . . . well! with\nwhat he will get when this business becomes known.\"\n\n\"And it will become known,\" asserted de Lugeac spitefully. He had\nalways hated what he called the English faction. Madame Lydie always\nsnubbed him unmercifully, and milor had hitherto most conveniently\nignored his very existence. \"By G--d I hope that my glove will be the\nfirst to touch his cheek.\"\n\n\"Sh!--sh!--sh!\" admonished de Belle-Isle, nodding toward Achille who\nwas busy with the candelabrum.\n\n\"Nay! what do I care,\" retorted the other; \"had you not restrained me\nI'd have called him a dirty coward then and there.\"\n\n\"That had been most incorrect, my good Lugeac,\" rejoined de Belle-Isle\ndrily, and wilfully ignoring the language which, in moments of\npassion, so plainly betrayed the vulgar origin. \"The right to insult\nLord Eglinton belongs primarily to Gaston de Stainville, and afterward\nonly to his friends.\"\n\nAnd although M. le Marquis de Belle-Isle expressed himself in more\nelegant words than his plebeian friend, there was none the less spite\nand evil intent in the expression of his face as he spoke.\n\nThen giving a sign to Achille to precede them with the light, the two\nrepresentatives of M. le Comte de Stainville finally strode out of the\napartments of the ex-Comptroller General of Finance.\n\nM. Durand, with his bulky books and his papers under his arms,\nfollowed meekly, repeatedly shaking his head.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nTHE FINAL DISAPPOINTMENT\n\n\nLydie waited a few moments while her father's brisk steps died away\nalong the stone-flagged corridors. In the silence of the evening, the\nquietude which rested on this distant portion of the palace, she could\nhear his brief word of command to the valet who had been stationed in\nthe antechamber; then the Duke's quick, alert descent down the marble\nstaircase, and finally the call for his coach oft repeated, when he\nreached the terrace and began skirting the building on his way to the\nmain paved yard, where, no doubt, his horses were awaiting his return.\n\nWhen everything in and around the palace seemed quiet again, Lydie\nrang for her maid.\n\n\"A dark hood and cloak,\" she ordered as soon as the girl appeared, and\nspeaking very rapidly.\n\n\"Madame la Marquise goes out again?\" asked the maid a little\nanxiously, seeing that the hour was late and she herself very sleepy.\n\n\"Only within the palace,\" replied Lydie. \"Quick, girl! the cloak!\"\n\nWithin two or three minutes she was enveloped from head to foot in a\ncloak of dark woollen material, that effectually hid the beautiful\ngown beneath. Then she bade the girl wait for her in her boudoir, and,\nnot heeding the latter's anxious protestations, she walked quickly out\nof the room.\n\nThe corridors and reception halls were now quite deserted. Even from\nthe main building of the palace, where the King himself was wont to\nsup copiously and long, there no longer came the faintest echo of\nrevelry, of laughter or of music. The vast chateau built at the cost\nof a nation's heart's blood, kept up at the cost of her tears and her\nhumiliation, now lay wrapped in sleep.\n\nIn this remote West Wing the silence was almost oppressive. From her\nown apartments Lydie could reach those occupied by milor, without\ngoing through the ante-chamber and corridors, where a few\nnight-watchmen were always stationed. Thus she could pass unperceived;\na dark, ghost-like figure, silent and swift, gliding through an\nenchanted castle, inhabited mayhap only by a sleeping beauty and her\nCourt. From outside not a sound, save the occasional hoot of an owl or\nthe flap of a bat's wings against the projecting masonry.\n\nLydie drew her cloak closely round her figure; though the August night\nwas hot and heavy with the acrid scent of late summer flowers she felt\nan inward shivering, whilst her temples throbbed and her eyes seemed\nmade of glowing charcoal. A few more rooms to traverse, a few moments\nlonger wherein to keep her trembling knees from giving way beneath\nher, and she would be in milor's rooms.\n\nShe was a little astonished to find them just as deserted as the rest\nof the palace. The great audience chamber with its monumental bed, the\nantechamber wherein M. Durand's wizened figure always sat enthroned\nbehind the huge secretaire, and the worthy Baptiste himself was wont\nto hold intrusive callers at bay, all these rooms were empty, silent\nand sombre.\n\nAt last she reached the octagonal room, out of which opened the study.\nHere, too, darkness reigned supreme save for a thin streak of light\nwhich gleamed, thin and weird, from beneath the study door. Darkness\nitself fought with absolute stillness. Lydie came forward, walking as\nif in her sleep.\n\nShe called to milor's valet: \"Achille!\" but only in a whisper, lest\nmilor from within should hear. Then as there was no sound, no\nmovement, she called once more:\n\n\"Achille! is milor still awake? Achille! are you here?\"\n\nShe had raised her voice a little, thinking the man might be asleep.\nBut no sound answered her, save from outside the cry of a bird\nfrightened by some midnight prowler.\n\nThen she walked up to the door. There behind it, in that inner sanctum\nhung with curtains of dull gold, the man still sat whom she had so\noften, so determinedly wronged, and who had wounded her to-night with\na cruelty and a surety of hand which had left her broken of spirit,\nbruised of heart, a suffering and passionate woman. She put her hand\non the knob of the door. Nothing stirred within; milor was writing\nmayhap! Perhaps he had dropped asleep! And Gaston preparing to ride to\nLe Havre in order to send the swiftest ship to do its deed of\ntreachery!\n\nNo! no! anything but that!\n\nAt this moment Lydie had nerved herself to endure every rebuff, to\nsuffer any humiliation, to throw herself at her husband's feet,\nembrace his knees if need be, beg, pray and entreat for money, for\nhelp, anything that might even now perhaps avert the terrible\ncatastrophe.\n\nBoldly now she knocked at the door.\n\n\"Milor! milor! open! . . . it is I! . . . ! Lydie. . . . !\"\n\nThen as there was no answer from within she knocked louder still.\n\n\"Milor! Milor! awake! Milor! in the name of Heaven I entreat you to\nlet me speak with you!\"\n\nAt first she had thought that he slept, then that obstinate resentment\ncaused him to deny her admittance. She tried to turn the knob of the\ndoor, but it did not yield.\n\n\"Milor! Milor!\" she cried again, and then again.\n\nNaught but silence was the reply.\n\nExcitement grew upon her now, a febrile nervousness which caused her\nto pull at the lock, to bruise her fingers against the gilt ornaments\nof the panel, whilst her voice, hoarse and broken with sobs, rent with\nits echoes the peace and solemnity of the night.\n\n\"Milor! Milor!\"\n\nShe had fallen on her knees, exhausted mentally and physically, the\nblood beating against her temples until the blackness around her\nseemed to have become a vivid red. In her ear was a sound like that of\na tempestuous sea breaking against gigantic rocks, with voices calling\nat intervals, voices of dying men, loudly accusing her of treachery.\nThe minutes were speeding by! Anon would come the dawn when Gaston\nwould to horse, bearing the hideous message which would mean her\nlifelong infamy and the death of those who trusted her.\n\n\"Milor! milor! awake!\" She now put her lips to the keyhole, breathing\nthe words through the tiny orifice, hoping that he would hear. \"Gaston\nwill start at dawn . . . They will send _Le Monarque_, and she is\nready to put to sea . . . Milor! your friend is in deadly\nperil. . . ! I entreat you to let me enter!\"\n\nShe beat her hands against the door, wounding her delicate flesh. She\nwas not conscious of what she was doing. A mystic veil divided her\nreasoning powers from that terrible mental picture which glowed before\nher through the blood-red darkness. The lonely shore, the angry sea,\nthe French ship _Le Monarque_ flying the pennant of traitors!\n\nThen suddenly an astonished and deeply horrified voice broke in upon\nher ears.\n\n\"Madame la Marquise, in the name of Heaven! Madame la Marquise!\"\n\nShe heard quick footsteps behind her, and left off hammering against\nthe door, left off screaming and moaning, but she had not the power to\nraise herself from her knees.\n\n\"Madame la Marquise,\" came in respectful, yet frightened accents,\n\"will Madame la Marquise deign to allow me to raise her--I fear Madame\nla Marquise is not well!\"\n\nShe recognized the voice of Achille, milor's valet, yet it never\nentered her mind to feel ashamed at being found by a lacquey, thus\nkneeling before her husband's door. The worthy Achille was very upset.\nEtiquette forbade him to touch Madame la Marquise, but could he leave\nher there? in that position? He advanced timidly. His behaviour was\nsuperlatively correct even in this terrible emergency, and there was\nnothing in his deferential attitude to indicate that he thought\nanything abnormal had occurred.\n\n\"I thought I heard Madame la Marquise calling,\" he said, \"and I\nthought perhaps Madame la Marquise would wish to speak with milor\n. . .\"\n\nBut at the word she quickly interrupted him; rising to her feet even\nas she spoke.\n\n\"Yes! yes . . . ! milor . . . I do wish to speak with him . . . open\nthe door, Achille . . . quick . . .\"\n\n\"The door is locked on the outside, Madame la Marquise, but I have the\nkey by me,\" said M. Achille gravely. \"I had fortunately recollected\nthat mayhap milor had forgotten to put out the lights, and would in\nany case have come to see that all was safe . . . if Madame la\nMarquise will deign to permit me . . .\"\n\nIt was a little difficult to reconcile utmost respect of movement and\ndemeanour with the endeavour to open the door against which Madame la\nMarquise was still standing. However, everything that was deferential\nand correct was possible to Monsieur Achille; he fitted the key in the\nlock and the next moment had thrown the door wide open, whilst he\nhimself stood immediately aside to enable Madame la Marquise to enter.\n\nFour candles were burning in one of the candelabra; milor had\nevidently forgotten to extinguish them. Everything else in the room\nwas perfectly tidy. On the secretaire there were two or three heavy\nbooks similar to those Monsieur Durand usually carried about with him\nwhen he had to interview milor, also the inkpot and sand-well, with\ntwo or three quills methodically laid on a silver tray. One window\nmust have been open behind the drawn curtains, for the heavy damask\nhangings waved gently in the sudden current of air, caused by the\nopening of the door. The candles too, flickered weirdly in the\ndraught. In the centre of the room was the armchair on which Lydie had\nsat a while ago, the cushion of red embroidery which milor had put to\nher back, and below the little footstool covered in gold brocade on\nwhich her foot had rested . . . a while ago.\n\nAnd beside the secretaire his own empty chair, and on the table the\nspot where his hand had rested, white and slightly tremulous, when she\nproffered her self-accusation.\n\n\"Milor?\" she murmured inquiringly, turning glowing eyes, dilated with\nthe intensity of disappointment and despair on the impassive face of\nAchille, \"milor . . . ? where is milor?\"\n\n\"Milor has been gone some little time, Madame la Marquise,\" replied\nAchille.\n\n\"Gone? Whither?\"\n\n\"I do not know, Madame la Marquise . . . Milor did not tell me . . .\nTwo gentlemen called to see him at about ten o'clock; as soon as they\nhad gone milor asked for his outdoor clothes and Hector booted and\nspurred him . . . whilst I dressed his hair and tied his cravat . . .\nMilor has been gone about half an hour, I think.\"\n\n\"Enough . . . that will do!\"\n\nThat is all that she contrived to say. This final disappointment had\nbeen beyond the endurance of her nerves. Physically now she completely\nbroke down, a mist gathered before her eyes, the candles seemed to\nflicker more and more weirdly until their lights assumed strange\nghoul-like shapes which drew nearer to her and nearer; faces in the\ngloom grinned at her and seemed to mock, the walls of the room closed\nin around her, her senses reeled, her very brain felt as if it\nthrobbed with pain, and without a cry or moan, only with one long sigh\nof infinite weariness, she sank lifeless to the ground.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nTHE DAWN\n\n\nM. le Comte de Stainville only shrugged his shoulders when M. de\nBelle-Isle and young de Lugeac brought him milor's reply.\n\n\"Bah!\" he said with a sneer, \"he'll have to fight me later on or I'll\nhound him out of France! Never fear, gentlemen, we'll have our meed of\nfun very soon.\"\n\nOn the whole Gaston was not sorry that this stupid so-called \"affair\nof honour\" would not force him to rise before dawn. He had no special\nill-will against _le petit Anglais_, for whom he had always tried to\ncultivate a modicum of contempt. He had not always succeeded in this\npraiseworthy endeavour, for milor as a rule chose to ignore M. de\nStainville, as far as, and often more than, courtesy permitted.\n\nThe two men had not often met since the memorable evening when milor\nsnatched the golden prize which Gaston had so clumsily cast aside.\nTheir tastes were very dissimilar, and so was their entourage. Milor\nwas officially considered to belong to the Queen's set, whilst Gaston\nclung to the more entertaining company of Madame de Pompadour and her\nfriends; nor had M. de Stainville had the bad grace to interfere with\nhis wife's obvious predeliction for Lord Eglinton's company.\n\nThe memorable day which was just drawing to its close had seen many\nchanges--changes that were almost upheavals of old traditions and of\nhabitual conditions of court life. Gaston had deceived and then\nhideously outraged the woman whom long ago he had already wronged. A\nyear ago she had humiliated him, had snatched from him the golden\nprize which his ambition had coveted, and which she made him\nunderstand that he could not obtain without her. To-day had been his\nhour; he had dragged her down to the very mire in which he himself had\ngrovelled, he had laid her pride to dust and shaken the pinnacle of\nvirtue and integrity on which she stood.\n\nThat she had partly revenged herself by a public affront against Irene\nmattered little to Gaston. He had long ago ceased to care for _la\nbelle brune de Bordeaux_, the beautiful girl who had enchained his\nearly affections and thereby become a bar to his boundless ambition.\nThe social ostracism--applicable only by a certain set of puritanical\ndevotes--and the disdain of Queen Marie Leszcynska which his wife\nmight have to endure would be more than compensated by the gratitude\nof Pompadour and of His Majesty himself, for the services rendered by\nGaston in the cause of the proffered English millions.\n\nBut for him the expedition against the Stuart prince could never have\nbeen undertaken; at any rate, it had been fraught with great\ndifficulties; delays and subsequent failure would probably have\nresulted. Gaston de Stainville felt sure that in the future he could\ntake care that the King should never forget his services.\n\nAfter his wife's indiscreet outburst he feared once more for the\nsuccess of the plan. Remembering Lydie's reliance on _Le Monarque_ and\nher commander, he declared himself prepared to start for Le Havre\nimmediately. He was quite ready to display that endurance and\nenthusiasm, in the breakneck ride across the fields of Normandy, which\nLydie had thought to find in him for the good of a noble cause.\n\nGaston de Stainville's pockets were always empty; the two millions\nwhich the King had promised him would be more than welcome. His\nMajesty had even offered to supplement these by an additional half\nmillion if _Le Monarque_ sailed out of Le Havre before sunset on the\nmorrow.\n\nThe incident of the duel with milor would have delayed matters\nand--who knows--perhaps have made that pleasant half million somewhat\nproblematical. Therefore Gaston received the news of the refusal with\na sardonic grin, but not with real impatience.\n\nHe felt really no great ill-will toward Lord Eglinton; but for that\nincident when he was forcibly made to measure his length on the\nparquet floor, Gaston would have willingly extended a condescending\nhand to the man whose wife he had so infamously wronged.\n\nThe incident itself had angered him only to the extent of desiring to\ninflict a physical punishment on milor. Sure of his own wrist as the\nmost perfect swordsman in France, he had fondled the thought of\nslicing off a finger or two, mayhap a thumb, from the hand of _le\npetit Anglais_, or better still of gashing milor's face across nose\nand cheek so as to mar for ever those good looks which the ladies of\nVersailles had so openly admired.\n\nWell! all these pleasant little occurrences could happen yet. M. de\nStainville was quite sure that on his return from Le Havre he could\nprovoke the Englishman to fight. Milor might be something of a\ncoward--obviously he was one, else he had accepted so mild a\nchallenge--but he could not always refuse to fight in the face of\ncertain provocation, which would mean complete social ruin if\ndisregarded.\n\nThe hour was late by the time Gaston de Stainville had bade good-night\nto Belle-Isle and Lugeac. Together the three men had drunk copiously,\nhad laughed much and sneered continually at the pusillanimous\nEnglishman.\n\n\"This comes of allowing all these aliens to settle amongst us,\" said\nde Lugeac impudently; \"soon there will be neither honour nor chivalry\nleft in France.\"\n\nWhereupon de Stainville and Belle-Isle, both of whom bore ancient,\naristocratic names, bethought themselves that it was time to break up\nthe little party and to turn their backs on this arrogant\ngutter-snipe.\n\nThe three men separated at midnight. De Lugeac had a room in the\npalace, and Stainville and Belle-Isle repaired to their respective\nlodgings in the little town itself.\n\nSoon after dawn Gaston de Stainville was on horseback. He started\nalone, for that extra half million was dangling before his eyes, and\nhe was afraid that companionship--even that of a servant--might cause\nunlooked-for delay. He had a hundred and eighty leagues by road and\nfield to cover, and soon the day would become very hot. He meant to\nreach Le Havre before five o'clock in the afternoon; within an hour\nafter that, he could have handed over his instructions to Captain\nBarre, and seen _Le Monarque_ unfurl her sails and glide gracefully\nout of the harbour: an argosy anon to be laden with golden freight.\n\nThe little town of Versailles had scarce opened its eyes to the new\nday when the clink of a horse's hoofs on her cobble stones roused her\nfrom her morning sleep.\n\nA few farmers, bringing in their produce from their gardens, gazed\nwith keen interest at the beautiful animal and her gallant rider. The\nhour was indeed early for such a fine gentleman to be about.\n\nSoon the rough paving of the town was left behind; the sun, who at\nfirst had hidden his newly-awakened glory behind a bank of clouds, now\nburnt his way through these heavy veils, and threw across the morning\nsky living flames of rose, of orange, and of vivid gold and tipped the\ntowers and spires of distant Paris with innumerable tongues of fire.\n\nFar away the clock of Notre Dame tolled the hour of five. Gaston\ncursed inwardly. It was later than he thought, later than he had\nintended to make a start. That business of the duel had kept him up\nlonger than usual and he had felt lazy and tired in the morning. Now\nhe would have to make top speed, and he did not feel as alert, nor so\nwell prepared for the fatigues of a long day's ride, as he would have\nbeen two years ago, before the enervating dissipations of court life\nat Versailles had undermined the activity of his youth.\n\nFortunately the ground was soft and dry, the air keen and pure, and\nGaston spurred his horse to a canter across the fields.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nTHE RIDE\n\n\nIt is one hundred and fifty leagues from Versailles to the harbour of\nLe Havre as the crow flies, one hundred and eighty most like by road\nand across fields.\n\nGaston had twelve hours in which to cover the ground, a good horse,\nand the enthusiasm born of empty pockets when two and a half million\nlivres loom temptingly at the end of the journey.\n\nThe fields, after the corn harvest, were excellent for a gallop,\nyielding just sufficiently to the mare's hoofs to give her a pleasant\nfoothold, but not in any way spongy, with good stubble to give\nresistance and the sandy soil below to prevent the slightest jar.\nRiding under such conditions, in the cool hours of the morning, was\ndistinctly pleasant.\n\nGaston reached Nantes soon after seven, having covered close on forty\nleagues of his journey without unduly tiring Belle Amie. He was a good\nrider and knew how to ease her, and there was Arab blood in her. She\nmade light of the work, and enjoyed her gallops, being of the breed\nthat never shows fatigue, own daughter to Jedran who had carried\nMaurice de Saxe on his famous ride from Paris to Saargemund, three\nhundred leagues in eighteen hours.\n\nAt Nantes, Stainville partook of a frugal breakfast, and Belle Amie\nhad a rest and a mouthful of corn. He was again to horse within half\nan hour, crossing the Seine here by the newly constructed stone\nbridge, thence on toward Elboeuf. By ten o'clock the sun was high in\nthe heavens and was pouring heat like molten lead down on horse and\nrider. Progress had become much slower. Several halts had to be made\nat tiny wayside inns for a cooling drink and a rub down for Belle\nAmie. The enjoyment had gone out of the ride. It was heavy, arduous\nwork, beside which despatch riding, with message of life and death,\nwas mere child's play.\n\nBut this was not a case of life and death, but of that which was far\ndearer to Gaston than life without it. Money! money at the end of it\nall! even if Belle Amie dropped on the roadside and he himself had to\ncover the rest of the distance on foot. An extra half million if _La\nMonarque_ set sail before sunset to-day.\n\nAt Rouen, horse and rider had to part company. Belle Amie, who had\ncovered close on a hundred leagues, and most of it in the full glare\nof the midday sun, wanted at least a couple of hours rest if she was\nto get to Le Havre at all, and this her rider was unwilling to give\nher. At the posting hostelry, which stands immediately at the rear of\nthe cathedral, Stainville bargained for a fresh horse, and left Belle\nAmie in charge of mine host to be tended and cared for against his\nreturn, probably on the morrow.\n\nHere, too, he partook of a light midday meal whilst the horse was\nbeing got ready for him. A good, solid Normandy mare this time, a\nperfect contrast to Belle Amie, short and thick in the legs, with a\nbroad crupper, and a sleepy look in her eye. But she was a comfortable\nmount as Gaston soon found out, with a smooth, even canter, and though\nher stride was short, she got over the ground quickly enough. It was\nstill very hot, but the roads beyond Rouen were sandy and light; the\nlanes were quite stoneless and shaded by tall trees; the Normandy mare\nsettled down along them to an easy amble. She had not the spirit of\nBelle Amie but she made up in stolidity what she had lacked in\nswiftness. Gaston's first impatience at the slowness of her gait soon\nyielded to content, for she needed no checking, and urging being\nuseless--since she could go no faster--the rider was soon able to let\nhis mind rest and even to sink into semi-somnolence, trusting himself\nto the horse entirely.\n\nAt half-past five the towers of Notre Dame du Havre were in sight; an\nhour later than Gaston had dared to hope, but still far from the hour\nof sunset, and if he could infuse a sufficiency of enthusiasm into the\ncommander of _Le Monarque_, the gallant ship could still negotiate the\nharbour before dusk, the tide being favourable, and be out in the open\nere the first stars appeared in the heavens.\n\nThe little seaport town, whose tortuous, unpaved, and narrow streets\nwere ankle deep in slimy mud in spite of the persistent heat and\ndryness of the day, appeared to Gaston like the golden city of his\ndreams. On his left the wide mouth of the Seine, with her lonely shore\nbeyond, was lost in the gathering mist, which rose rapidly now after\nthe intense heat of the day. On his right, a few isolated houses were\ndotted here and there, built of mud, thatched and plastered over, and\nwith diminutive windows not more than a few inches square, because of\nthe tax which was heavy; they testified to the squalor and misery of\ntheir inhabitants, a few families earning an uncertain livelihood with\ntheir nets. Soon along the length of the river, as it gradually\nwidened toward its mouth, a few isolated craft came to view; fishing\nboats these mostly, with here and there a graceful brigantine laden\nwith timber, and a few barges which did a precarious coasting-trade\nwith salted fish and the meagre farm produce of the environs.\n\nGaston de Stainville took no heed of these, though the scene--if\nsomewhat mournful and desolate--had a certain charm of rich colouring\nand hazy outline in the glow of the afternoon sun. The heat had\naltogether abated, and the damp which rose from the spongy soil,\npeculiar to the bed of the river, was already making itself felt.\nGaston shivered beneath the light cloth coat which he had donned in\nthe morning, in view of the fatigues of a hot summer's day. His eyes\npeered anxiously ahead and to the left of him. His mare, who had borne\nhim stolidly for over five hours, was quite ready to give way; there\nwas no Arab blood in her to cause her to go on until she dropped. She\nhad settled down to a very slow jog-trot, which was supremely\nuncomfortable to the rider, whose tired back could scarcely endure\nthis continuous jar. Fortunately the straggling, outlying portions of\nthe townlet were already far behind; the little mud houses appeared\nquite frequently now, and from them, wizened figures came out to the\ndoorway; women in ragged kirtles and children half-naked but for a\nmeagre shift, gazed, wide-eyed, at the mud-bespattered cavalier and\nhis obviously worn-out mount.\n\nFrom the fine old belfry the chime had long tolled the half hour.\nGaston vainly tried to spur the mare to a final effort. She had\nreached a stage of fatigue when blows would not have quickened her\nsteps, whilst her rider, roused from his own somnolent weariness, was\nsuddenly alert and eager. Goal was indeed in sight. The mud huts even\nhad been left behind, and one or two stone houses testified to the\nimportance of the town and the well-being of its inhabitants; the\nfirst inn--a miserable wooden construction quite uninviting even after\na day's ride--had already been passed. Ahead was the church of Notre\nDame, the fish market, and the residence of the governor; beyond were\nsome low wooden buildings, suggestive of barracks, whilst the Seine,\never widening until her further shore was finally lost in the mist,\nnow showed an ever-varying panorama of light and heavy craft upon her\nbreast; brigantines, and fishing boats, and the new-fashioned top-sail\nschooners, and far ahead, majestic and sedate, one or two\nthree-deckers of His Majesty's own navy.\n\nGaston strained his eyes, wondering which of these was _Le Monarque_!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\n\"LE MONARQUE\"\n\n\nA few minutes later he had reached the principal inn of the town,\n\"L'Auberge des Trois Matelots,\" immediately opposite the rough wooden\njetty, and from the bay window of which Gaston immediately thought\nthat a magnificent view must be obtainable of the stretch of the river\nand the English Channel far away.\n\nHe turned into the gate. The house itself was low, one-storied only,\nand built entirely of wood round a central court-yard, which was as\ndeep in slime as the rest of the town of Le Havre. Opposite Gaston as\nhe rode in, were some primitive stablings, and on his right some\nequally primitive open sheds; the remaining two sides apparently stood\nfor the main portion of the building, as several doors gave upon a\ncovered verandah, to which some four or five steps gave access.\n\nA weary-eyed ostler in a blue blouse and huge wooden sabots, from\nwhich bunches of straw protruded at the heel came leisurely forward\nwhen Gaston drew rein. He seemed to have emerged from nowhere in\nparticular, risen out of the mud mayhap, but he held the mare none too\nclumsily when M. le Comte dismounted.\n\nThe next moment a portly figure appeared in one of the doorways under\nthe verandah, clad precisely like the ostler, save for the gorgeous\nscarlet kerchief round the gargantuan neck, whilst another, equally\nbright in hue, peeped out of the pocket of the blouse.\n\nAbove the scarlet neckerchief a round face, red as a Normandy apple,\nwas turned meditatively on the mud-stained cavalier, whilst a pair of\nsmall, beady eyes blinked drowsily at the afternoon sun.\n\n\"See that the mare gets a good rub down at once, then a feed of corn\nwith a dash of eau-de-vie in it, a litter of straw, and a drink of\nwater; she is done to death,\" said Gaston, peremptorily to the\nsleepy-looking ostler. \"I'll be round in a quarter of an hour to see\nif she is comfortable, and give you a taste of my whip if she is not.\"\n\nThe ostler did not reply, neither did he touch his forelock in token\nof obedience. He smothered a yawn and with slow, dragging steps he led\nthe over-tired mare toward the rough stabling in the rear. Gaston then\nturned toward the verandah and to the few wooden steps which led up to\nthe doorway, wherein the apple-faced man still stood with his hands\nbehind him, drowsily blinking at the unexpected visitor.\n\n\"Are you the innkeeper?\" asked Gaston curtly.\n\n\"Yes, M'sieu,\" replied the other with great deliberation.\n\n\"I shall want a good room for the night, and a well-cooked supper. See\nto it at once.\"\n\nMine host's placidity gave way somewhat at these peremptory orders,\nwhich were accompanied by a loud and significant tapping of a whip\nacross a riding boot. But the placidity did not yield to eagerness,\nonly to a certain effort at sulky protest, as Gaston, having mounted\nthe steps, now stood facing him in his own doorway.\n\n\"My house is full, M'sieu . . .\" he began.\n\n\"I am on the King's business,\" shouted Gaston now with angry\nimpatience, \"so none of this nonsense. Understand?\"\n\nEvidently mine host not only understood, but thought it best to obey\nwith as good grace as he could muster. He stepped aside still somewhat\ngrudgingly, and allowed Gaston de Stainville to enter: but he did not\ncondescend to bow nor did he bid M'sieu the visitor welcome in his\nhouse.\n\nGaston however was not minded to notice the fat man's sulky temper.\nThe moodiness of provincial innkeepers had become proverbial in\nFrance; they seemed to look upon all guests, who brought money into\ntheir pockets, as arrogant intruders, and treated them accordingly.\n\n\"See to a decent supper at once,\" repeated de Stainville now with that\nperemptoriness which he knew would alone ensure civility, \"and send a\nwench into my room to see that it is properly aired, and that clean\nlinen is put upon the bed.\"\n\nThe warning was no doubt necessary, judging by the appearance of the\nroom in which Gaston now found himself. It was low and stuffy in the\nextreme. He was conscious of nothing else for the moment, as only two\ndiminutive windows, hermetically closed, admitted a tiny modicum of\nlight through four dirty and thick panes of rough glass. On the left\nthere was a door evidently leading to another and larger room from\nwhich--as this door was ajar--came the sound of voices and also\nsuffocating gusts of very pungent tobacco.\n\nObviously there was some light and air in that further room, whereas\nhere it seemed to Gaston as if only cave-dwellers and moles could live\nand breathe.\n\n\"You had best serve my supper in there,\" he said, pointing with his\nriding whip toward that half-open door, and without waiting for the\nprotests which mine host was obviously preparing himself to make, he\nstrode boldly toward it and pushed it fully open.\n\nThe place was certainly very different to the one which he had just\nquitted. The floor was strewn with clean white sand, and, though the\nair was thick with the fumes of that same pungent tobacco, which\nalready had offended Gaston's nostrils, it was not hopelessly\nunpleasant, as the deep and square oriel window at the extreme end of\nthis long, low room was wide open, freely admitting the sweet, salt\nbreeze which blew straight from the English Channel; affording too--as\nGaston had originally surmised--a magnificent view of a panorama which\nembraced the mouth of the Seine, the rough harbour and tiny jetty,\nwith the many small craft lying at anchor on the calm bosom of the\nriver, and the graceful schooners and majestic three-deckers further\naway, all lit by the slanting rays of the slowly-sinking sun.\n\nGaston, without hesitation, walked straight up to a bench and trestle\ntable, which to his pleasurable surprise he found was unoccupied.\nThese were just inside the bay of the window, and he deliberately\nplaced his hat, coat and whip upon the table in token that he took\npossession of it. Then he once more turned to mine host, who, much\ntorn between respect for a man who travelled on the King's business--a\nnobleman mayhap--and pride of peasant at contact with an unwelcome\nvisitor, had slowly followed Gaston, lolling with that peculiar gait\nwhich betrays the ex-sailor whilst firm if deferential protest was\nwrit all over his rubicund countenance.\n\nJean Marie Palisson was born at Le Havre; he had been _armateur_ ere\nthe welcome death of a relative put him in possession of the most\nfrequented inn in the town together with a very comfortable\ncompetence, and the best furnished cellars this side of Rouen. He\ngreatly resented the appearance of a stranger in the midst of his\nusual habitues, which distinguished circle embraced M. le General\ncommanding the fortress, M. the Military Governor of the port, M. the\nCivil Governor of the town, MM. the commanders on His Majesty's ships,\nnot to speak of M. le Maire, and M. le Depute of the Parliament of\nRouen, in fact all the notabilities and dignitaries of the town and\nthe harbour.\n\nThese gentlemen were wont to assemble in this the best room of \"Les\nTrois Matelots\" at five o'clock, \"l'heure de l'aperitif,\" when\neau-de-vie, punch or mulled wine were consumed, in order to coax\nrecalcitrant appetites to a pleasurable anticipation of supper. It was\nan understood thing, between the worthy Jean Marie Palisson and his\ndistinguished customers, that no strangers were to be admitted within\nthis inner sanctum, save by the vote of the majority, nor had it ever\noccurred before that any one had thus forced an entrance past that\nmagic door which mine host guarded with jealous care.\n\nNow when Gaston thus arrogantly took possession of the best table in\nthe best portion of the best room in \"Les Trois Matelots,\" Jean Marie\nwas so taken aback, and so awed by the masterfulness which could rise\nto such complete disregard of the etiquette pertaining to the social\ncircles of Le Havre, that he found himself unable to do aught but\nshrug his broad shoulders at intervals, and blink his beady eyes in\ntoken of helpless distress.\n\nAnd this in spite of the fact that several pairs of eyebrows were\nlifted in token of pained surprise.\n\nGaston was equally unconscious of the disapproval which his entry had\nevoked, as of Jean Marie's want of alacrity in his service. When he\nentered, he noted that the several occupants of the room were\ngentlemen like himself, and he always felt thoroughly at home and\nunabashed amongst his kind: as for the landlord of a tumbledown\nprovincial inn, Gaston thought him quite unworthy of close attention.\nHe sat himself down on the edge of the table, dangling one well-booted\nleg with easy nonchalance, and from this elevated position he surveyed\nleisurely and with no small amount of impertinence, the company there\nassembled. He had scarce time to note the scowling looks of haughty\ndisapproval which were levelled at him from every side, when the door\nwas vigorously pushed open and an aggressively cheerful young man,\nloud of voice, jocose of manner, boisterously entered the room.\n\n\"Par ma foi! my worthy Jean Marie,\" he said in stentorian tones, \"is\nthis the latest fashion in Le Havre? the host not at the door to\nreceive his guests? . . . He! . . .\" he added, suddenly realizing the\npresence of a stranger in the room, \"whom have we here?\"\n\nBut already, at the first words uttered by the newcomer, Gaston de\nStainville had jumped to his feet, and as soon as the young man ceased\ntalking, he went forward to greet him.\n\n\"None other than Gaston de Stainville, my good Mortemar, and pleased\nindeed to look into a friend's face.\"\n\n\"Gaston de Stainville!\" exclaimed the other gaily, \"_par tous les\ndiables!_ but this is a surprise! Who would have thought to see you\nin this damned and God-forsaken hole!\"\n\n\"The King's business, my good Mortemar,\" said Gaston, \"and if you'll\nforgive me I'll see to it at once and then we'll sup together, eh?\n. . . Palsambleu! and I who thought I'd die of ennui during this\nenforced halt on this lonely shore.\"\n\n\"Ennui? perish the thought! Gentlemen,\" added the young Comte de\nMortemar, with a graceful flourish of the arm which embraced the\nentire company, \"allow me to present unto you the most accomplished\ncavalier of the day, whom I have the honour to call my friend, and\nwhom I hope we will all have the honour to call our guest to-night, M.\nle Comte Gaston Amede de Stainville.\"\n\nGaston had no cause now to complain of want of welcome. Once the\nstranger duly accredited and presented by a member of the intimate\ncircle, he was cheered to the echo. Every one rose to greet him, many\npressed forward to shake him by the hand: the presence of a cavalier\nof Versailles with all the Court gossip, the little intrigues, the\nlaughable anecdotes which he would of necessity bring with him was\nindeed a veritable God-send to the little official world of Le Havre,\nwho spent most of its life in mortal ennui.\n\n\"As for thee, my good Jean Marie,\" now interposed Mortemar with mock\nseverity, \"let me tell thee at once that if within an hour this table\nhere doth not groan under the weight of the finest and best cooked\ncapon that Normandy can produce, neither I nor these gentlemen here\nwill e'er darken thy doors again. What say you, gentlemen?\"\n\nThere was loudly expressed assent, accompanied by much laughter and\nvigorous clinking of pewter mugs against the deal tables.\n\n\"And in the meanwhile,\" continued Mortemar, who seemed to have taken\nthe lead in this general desire to bid the visitor a substantial\nwelcome, \"a bowl of punch with half a glass of eau-de-vie and a dozen\nprunes soaked in kirsch therein. Never fear, friend Stainville,\" he\nadded, slapping Gaston boisterously on the shoulder, \"I tell you mine\nhost knows how to brew a bowl of punch, which will send you reeling\nunder one of his tables in less than half an hour.\"\n\nA round of applause greeted this cheerful sally.\n\n\"Nay, in that case,\" said Gaston, on whom the strenuous fatigues of\nthe day were telling severely after the preliminary excitement of\narrival, \"I'll to my business, ere your good cheer, friend, render me\nquite helpless.\"\n\n\"Perish the thought of business,\" retorted Mortemar. \"Your head in a\nbucket of cold water after the punch, and you can meet the most astute\nnotary on even ground and beat him at his own game. The punch, knave!\"\nhe shouted to the fat landlord, \"the punch, this instant, M. le Comte\nde Stainville is wearied and is waiting for refreshment.\"\n\nBut Gaston's frame of mind was far too grave, his purpose far too\nimportant, to allow himself to be led into delaying business with\nCaptain Barre a moment longer than was necessary. Mortemar and his\nconvivial friends could not know that half a million livres would be\nthe price paid for that bowl of punch, since it might mean an hour's\ncarousing and the full of dusk before _Le Monarque_ received her\norders. He was deadly fatigued undoubtedly, faint too from the heat\nand want of proper food, but when money was at stake Gaston de\nStainville always displayed an enthusiasm and an amount of courageous\nendurance worthy of a better cause.\n\n\"A thousand thanks, my good Mortemar, and to you all, gentlemen,\" he\nnow said courteously but firmly, \"do not, I beseech you, think me\nchurlish if I must momentarily refuse your kind hospitality. One glass\nof eau-de-vie to give me a modicum of strength, and I must to my\nbusiness first. Gentlemen, I see by your coats that most of you serve\nthe King in some capacity or other, you know as well as I do that the\nlaws which govern the King's commands cannot be broken. I will not be\ngone long, half an hour at most; after that I am at your commands, and\nwill be the most grateful as well as the most joyous of you all.\"\n\n\"Well spoken, friend Stainville,\" declared Mortemar \"and you, Jean\nMarie, serve a small refreshment to M. le Comte immediately. Nay,\nfriend,\" he added pleasantly, \"I fear I have been importunate . . .\n'twas the joy of seeing so elegant a cavalier grace this unhallowed\nspot.\"\n\nEvery one nodded approval; as Gaston had surmised, there were\nsoldiers, sailors there present, all of whom understood duty and\nobedience to the King's commands.\n\n\"Perhaps some of us could be of assistance to M. le Comte de\nStainville,\" suggested a grave gentleman who wore His Majesty's\ncolours. \"If he is a stranger at Le Havre he might be glad of help.\"\n\n\"Indeed well said,\" spoke another; \"could one of us here accompany you\nanywhere, Monsieur le Comte?\"\n\n\"I am more than grateful, gentlemen,\" replied Gaston, to whom the host\nwas even now offering a cup of mulled wine. He drank the liquor at\none draught, then set down the cup ere he spoke further:\n\n\"And gladly will I accept these kindly offers of assistance,\" he now\nsaid. \"I am indeed a stranger here, and did feel doubtful how I could\nmost speedily accomplish my business. I must have speech with Captain\nBarre, gentlemen, commanding His Majesty's ship _Le Monarque_ and that\nwith as little delay as possible. . . .\"\n\nTo his intense astonishment he was interrupted by a ringing laugh from\nhis friend Mortemar.\n\n\"Nay, then my good Stainville,\" said the lively young man, \"you'll\nhave plenty of time for that bowl of punch, aye! and for getting right\nroyally drunk and fully sober again if your business is with Captain\nBarre.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" queried Gaston with a sudden frown.\n\n\"_Le Monarque_ sailed out of Le Havre an hour ago; methinks you can\nstill see her sails against the evening sun.\"\n\nAnd the young man pointed through the open window out toward the West.\nMechanically Gaston's eyes followed the direction in which his friend\npointed. There, far away in the mist-laden distance, a graceful\nthree-decker, with sails unfurled, was distinctly visible in the glow\nof the setting sun. She was gaily riding the waves, the soft\nsouth-easterly breeze having carried her swiftly and lightly already\nfar out to sea.\n\nGaston felt an awful dizziness in his head. An icy sweat broke out\nupon his brow, he passed a hand across his eyes for he did not feel\nthat he could trust them.\n\n\"That is not _Le Monarque_,\" he murmured.\n\n\"By my faith, but it is,\" said Mortemar, a little perturbed, for he\nhad not thought to be conveying evil news. \"I was bidding her captain\n'God-speed' myself little more than an hour ago. A gallant sailor, and\na personal friend,\" he added, \"and he seemed mighty glad to get on the\nway.\"\n\n\"Whither was he bound?\" asked Gaston mechanically.\n\n\"Nay! that I do not know. Barre had received secret orders only an\nhour before he started. . . .\"\n\nBut now Gaston felt his senses reeling.\n\n\"She must be stopped! . . . she must be stopped!\" he shouted wildly.\n\"I have orders for her . . . she must be stopped, at any cost!\"\n\nAnd breaking through the compact group of his newly found friends he\nmade a wild dash for the door.\n\nBut the excitement, the terrible keenness of this disappointment had\nbeen too much for him, after the strenuous fatigues and the\noverpowering heat of the day. The dizziness turned to an intolerable\nfeeling of sickness, the walls of the room spun round and round him,\nhe felt as if a stunning blow had been dealt him on the head, and with\na final shriek of \"Stop her!\" he staggered and would have fallen\nheadlong, but that a pair of willing arms were there to break his\nfall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nTHE STRANGER\n\n\nIt was M. des Coutures--a middle-aged man, military governor of Le\nHavre--who had caught Gaston de Stainville in his arms when the latter\nall but lost consciousness. A dozen willing pairs of hands were now\nready to administer to the guest's comforts, from the loosening of his\ncravat to the pulling off of his heavy riding boots.\n\n\"The mulled wine was too heavy for him,\" said M. le Maire Valledieu,\n\"no doubt he had been fasting some hours and his stomach refused to\ndeal with it.\"\n\n\"Tell the kitchen wench to hurry with that supper, Jean Marie,\" said\nMortemar to mine host, \"he'll be himself again when he has eaten.\"\n\n\"If there's a plate of soup ready, bring that,\" added M. Valledieu.\n\"Anything's better than an empty paunch.\"\n\n\"I thank you, friends,\" now murmured Stainville feebly. \"I fear me I\nmust have turned giddy . . . the heat and . . .\"\n\nHe was recovering quickly enough. It had been mere dizziness caused by\nfatigue; and then that awful blow which had staggered him physically\nas well as mentally! His newly found friends had dragged him back to\nthe table close to the open window: the keen sea-breeze quickly\nrestored him to complete consciousness.\n\nAlready he had turned his head slowly round to watch that fast\ndisappearing three-decker, gleaming golden now in the distant haze.\n\nHis argosy which he had hoped to see returning from her voyage laden\nwith golden freight! Somehow as first the hulk and then the graceful\nsails were gradually merged into the Western glow, Gaston knew--by one\nof those inexplainable yet absolutely unerring instincts which baffle\nthe materialist--that all hopes of those coveted millions were\nvanishing as surely as did the ship now from before his gaze. He was\nstill weak in body as well as in mind, and it was as if in a dream,\nthat he listened to de Mortemar's carelessly given explanations of the\nevent which meant the wreckage of so many fondly cherished hopes.\n\n\"Captain Barre broke his fast in this very room this morning,\" said\nthe young man lightly, \"several of these gentlemen here, as well as\nmyself, had speech with him. He had no idea then that he would have to\nstart on a voyage quite so soon. He left here at eleven o'clock and\nwent back to his ship. An hour later when I was strolling along the\nshore I met him again. He seemed in a vast hurry and told me in a few\ncurt words that _Le Monarque_ had received orders to be under way as\nsoon as the tide permitted.\"\n\n\"You did not ask him whither the ship was bound?\" queried Gaston,\nspeaking hoarsely like a man who has been drinking.\n\n\"He could not tell me,\" replied the other, \"her orders were secret.\"\n\n\"Do you know who was the bearer of these secret orders?\"\n\n\"No, but I heard later that a stranger had ridden into Le Havre at\nmidday to-day. His mare--a beautiful creature so I understand--dropped\nnot far from here; she had been ridden to her death, poor thing; and\nher rider, so they say, was near to dropping too.\"\n\n\"I saw him,\" here interposed a young soldier, \"he was just outside\nthat God-forsaken hole, 'Le Gros Normand' and politely asked me if it\nwere the best inn in Le Havre.\"\n\n\"I hope you told him it was,\" said des Coutures with a growl, \"we want\nno stranger here.\"\n\n\"Nor do we want Le Havre to have a reputation for dirt and\ndiscomfort,\" corrected M. le Maire.\n\n\"And I certainly could not allow a gentlemen--for he was that--I'll\nlay any wager on it, with any one--to be made superlatively\nuncomfortable on the broken beds of 'Le Gros Normand,'\" asserted the\nyoung soldier hotly.\n\n\"You advised him to come here?\" gasped Mortemar with genuine horror.\nHe was the chief of that clique which desired to exclude, with utmost\nrigour from the sacred precincts of \"Les Trois Matelots,\" every\nstranger not properly accredited.\n\n\"Ma foi! what would you have me do?\" retorted the other sulkily.\n\n\"You did quite right, Lieutenant le Tellier,\" rejoined M. le Maire,\nwho was jealous of the reputation of Le Havre. \"Gentlemen must be\nunder no misapprehension with regard to the refinement and hospitality\nof this town.\"\n\nThe entrance of mine host carrying a steaming bowl of soup broke up\nthe conversation for awhile. Jean Marie was followed by a fat and\njovial-looking wench, who quickly spread a white cloth for Monsieur le\nComte's supper and generally administered to his wants.\n\nDe Mortemar, General des Coutures, and M. le Maire Valledieu had\nconstituted themselves the nominal hosts of Gaston. They too sat round\nthe table, and anon when Jean Marie brought huge jugs of red wine,\nthey fell to and entertained their guest, plying him with meat and\ndrink.\n\nThis broke up the company somewhat. The other gentlemen had withdrawn\nwith all the respect which Frenchmen always feel for the solemnity of\na meal; they had once more assumed their old places at the various\ntables about the room. But no one thought yet of returning home:\n\"l'heure de l'aperitif\" was being indefinitely prolonged.\n\nConversation naturally drifted back again and again to _Le Monarque_\nand her secret orders. Every one scented mystery, for was it not\nstrange that a noble cavalier like Monsieur le Comte de Stainville\nshould have ridden all the way from Versailles on the King's business,\nin order to have speech with the commander of one of His Majesty's own\nships, only to find that he had been forestalled? The good ship had\napparently received orders which the King knew naught about, else His\nMajesty had not sent Monsieur de Stainville all this way on a fool's\nerrand.\n\nEager, prying eyes watched him as he began to eat and drink, dreamily\nat first, almost drowsily. Obviously he was absorbed in thought. He\ntoo must be racking his brains as to who the stranger might be who had\nso unexpectedly forestalled him.\n\nHis three genial hosts plied him continually with wine and soon the\ntraces of fatigue in him began to yield to his usual alertness and\nvigour. The well-cooked food, the rich liquors were putting life back\ninto his veins. And with renewed life came a seething, an ungovernable\nwrath.\n\nHe had lost a fortune, the gratitude of the King, the goodwill of\nPompadour, two and a half millions of money through the interference\nof a stranger!\n\nHe tried to think, to imagine, to argue with himself. Treacherous and\nfalse himself, he at once suspected treachery. He imagined that some\nsycophant, hanging to the Pompadour's skirts, had succeeded in winning\nher good graces sufficiently to be allowed to do this errand for her,\ninstead of himself.\n\nOr had the King played him false, and sent another messenger to do the\ndelicate business and to share in the spoils?\n\nOr had Lydie . . . ? But no! this was impossible! What could she have\ndone at a late hour of the night? How could she have found a messenger\nwhom she could trust? when earlier in the day she had herself admitted\nthat there was no one in whom she could confide, and thus turned\nalmost unwillingly to the friend of her childhood.\n\nJean Marie's favoured customers sat at the various tables sipping\ntheir eau-de-vie; some had produced dice and cards, whilst others were\ncontent to loll about, still hoping to hear piquant anecdotes of that\ndistant Court of Versailles, toward which they all sighed so\nlongingly.\n\nBut the elegant guest was proving a disappointment. Even after the\nsecond bumper of wine Gaston de Stainville's tongue had not loosened.\nHe was speculating on the identity of that mysterious stranger, and\nwould not allow his moodiness to yield to the joys of good cheer.\nTo-morrow he would have to ride back to Versailles hardly more\nleisurely than he had come, for he must find out the truth of how he\ncame to be forestalled. But he could not start before dawn, even\nthough fiery impatience and wrath burned in his veins.\n\nTo all inquisitive queries and pointed chaff he replied with a sulky\ngrowl, and very soon the delight of meeting an interesting stranger\ngave place to irritation at his sullen mood. He was drinking heavily,\nand did not seem cheerful in his cups, and anon even Mortemar's\nboisterous hilarity gave way before his persistent gloom.\n\nAfter an hour or two the company started yawning: every one had had\nenough of this silent and ill-tempered stranger, who not only had\nbrought no new life and animation into the sleepy town, but was ill\nrepaying the lavish hospitality of \"Les Trois Matelots\" by his\nreticence and sulky humour.\n\nOne by one now the habitues departed, nodding genially to mine host,\nas they settled for their _consommations_, and bidding as hearty a\ngood-night to the stranger as their disappointment would allow.\n\nDe Mortemar and Valledieu had tried to lure M. le Comte de Stainville\nto hazard or even to a more sober game of piquet, but the latter had\npersistently refused and sat with legs stretched out before him, hands\nburied in breeches' pockets, his head drooping on his chest, and a\nmeditative scowl between his eyes.\n\nThe wine had apparently quite dulled his brilliant wit, and now he\nonly replied in curt monosyllables to queries addressed directly to\nhim.\n\nAnon Valledieu and old General de Coutures pleading the ties of family\nand home, begged to be excused. Now de Mortemar alone was left to\nentertain his surly guest, bored to distraction, and dislocating his\njaws in the vain efforts which he made to smother persistent yawns.\n\nIt was then close on half-past seven. The final glory of the setting\nsun had yielded to the magic wand of night which had changed the vivid\ncrimson and orange first to delicate greens and mauves and then to the\ndeep, the gorgeous blue of a summer's evening sky. The stars one by\none gleamed in the firmament, and soon the crescent moon, chaste and\ncold, added her incomparable glory to the beauty and the silent peace\nof the night.\n\nTiny lights appeared at masthead or prow of the many craft lying at\nanchor in the roadsteads, and from far away through the open window\nthere came wafted, on the sweet salt breeze, the melancholy sound of\nan old Normandy ditty sung by a pair of youthful throats.\n\nFatigue and gloom had oppressed Gaston at first, now it was\nunconquerable rage, seething and terrible, which caused him to remain\nsilent. De Mortemar was racking his brains for an excuse to break up\nthis wearisome _tete-a-tete_ without overstepping the bounds of\ngood-breeding, whilst cursing his own impetuosity which had prompted\nhim to take this surly guest under his wing.\n\nJean Marie now entered with the candles, causing a welcome diversion.\nHe placed one massive pewter candelabrum on the table occupied by\nGaston and de Mortemar: the other he carried to the further end of the\nroom. Having placed that down too, he lolled back toward de Mortemar.\nHis rubicund face looked troubled, great beads of perspiration stood\nout upon his forehead, and his fat fingers wandered along the velvety\nsurface of his round, closely-cropped crown.\n\n\"M'sieu le Comte . . .\" he began hesitatingly.\n\n\"What is it?\" asked Mortemar smothering a yawn.\n\n\"A stranger, M'sieu le Comte . . .\" stammered Jean Marie.\n\n\"What, another? . . . I mean,\" added the young man with a nervous\nlittle laugh, feeling that the sudden exclamation of undisguised\nannoyance was not altogether courteous to his guest, \"I mean a . . .\nan . . . an . . . unknown stranger? . . . altogether different to M.\nle Comte de Stainville, of course!\"\n\n\"A stranger, M'sieu,\" repeated Jean Marie curtly. \"He came at midday.\n. . .\"\n\n\"And you told us nothing about him?\"\n\n\"I did not think it was necessary, nor that the stranger would trouble\nM'sieu le Comte. He asked for a clean room and a bed and said nothing\nabout supper at the time. . . . He seemed very tired and gave me a\ncouple of louis, just if as they were half livres.\"\n\n\"No doubt 'twas the stranger with whom Lieutenant Tellier had speech\noutside 'Le Gros Normand!'\" suggested de Mortemar.\n\n\"Mayhap! mayhap!\" rejoined Jean Marie thoughtfully. \"I took him up a\nbowl of sack and half a cold capon, but what he wanted most was a\nlarge wash-tub and plenty of water . . . it seems he needed a bath!\"\n\n\"Then he was English,\" commented Mortemar decisively.\n\nBut at these words, Gaston, who had been listening with half an ear to\nmine host's explanations, roused himself from his heavy torpor.\n\nThe stranger who had forestalled him and sent _Le Monarque_ on her\nsecret voyage to-day was English!\n\nThen it was . . .\n\n\"Where is that stranger now?\" he demanded peremptorily.\n\n\"That's just it, M'sieu le Comte!\" replied Jean Marie, obstinately\nignoring Gaston and still addressing de Mortemar, \"he slept all the\nafternoon. Now he wants some supper. He throws louis about as if they\nwere dirt, and I can't serve him in there!\" he added with unanswerable\nlogic and pointing to the stuffy room in the rear.\n\n\"Pardi! . . .\" began Mortemar.\n\nBut Gaston de Stainville was fully alert now; with sudden vigour he\njumped to his feet and brought his fist crashing down on the table so\nthat the candelabrum, the mugs, and decanters of wine shook under the\nblow.\n\n\"I beseech you, friend, admit the stranger into this room without\ndelay,\" he said loudly. \"Ma foi! you have found me dull and listless,\nill-humoured in spite of your lavish hospitality; I swear to you by\nall the devils in hell that you'll not yawn once for the next\nhalf-hour, and that Gaston de Stainville and the mysterious stranger,\nwho thwarts his will and forestalls his orders, will afford you a\nmeasure of amusement such as you'll never forget.\"\n\nHis face was flushed, and his eyes, somewhat hazy from the copiousness\nof his libations, had an evil leer in them and an inward glow of\ndeadly hate. There was no longer any weakness, nor yet ill-humour,\nvisible in his attitude. His hands were clenched, one resting on the\ntable, the other roughly pushing back the chair on which he had been\nsitting.\n\n\"Admit the stranger, friend host!\" he shouted savagely. \"I'll vouch\nfor it that your patron will not regret his presence in this room.\"\n\n\"Ma foi! I trust not,\" said a quiet voice, which seemed to come\nsuddenly from out the gloom. \"Gentlemen, your servant!\"\n\nMortemar turned toward the door, whence had proceeded that gentle,\ncourteous voice. Lord Eglinton was standing under the lintel,\nelegantly attired in full riding dress, with top boots and\nclosely-fitting coat. He wore no sword, and carried a heavy cloak on\nhis arm.\n\nHe made a comprehensive bow which included every one there present,\nthen he stepped forward into the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nREVENGE\n\n\nWe must surmise that surprise and rage had rendered Gaston speechless\nfor the moment.\n\nOf all the conjectures which had racked his brains for the past two\nhours none had come near this amazing reality. Gaston was no fool, and\nin one vivid flash he saw before his mental vision not only his own\ndiscomfiture, the annihilation of all his hopes, but also the failure\nof King Louis' plans, the relegation of those fifteen millions back\ninto the pockets of His Grace the Duke of Cumberland.\n\nThat Eglinton had not ridden to Le Havre on the King's business but on\nhis own, that he had not sent _Le Monarque_ to Scotland in order that\nhe might share in those millions was of course obvious.\n\nNo! no! it was clear enough! Lydie having found that Gaston had failed\nher, had turned to her husband for help: and he, still nominally\nComptroller-General of Finance, had found it quite easy to send\nCaptain Barre on his way with secret orders to find Charles Edward\nStuart and ensure the safety of the Jacobites at once and at any cost.\n\nMilor was immensely rich; that had helped him too, of course; bribes,\npromises, presents of money were nothing to him. Mentally he was\nweak--reasoned Gaston's vanity--and Lydie had commanded him.\n\nBut physically he was as strong as a horse, impervious to fatigue, and\nwhilst Gaston rested last night preparing for his journey, _le petit\nAnglais_ was in the saddle at midnight and had killed a horse under\nhim ere de Stainville was midway.\n\nWhat King Louis' attitude would be over this disappointment it were\npremature to conjecture. Royal disfavour coupled with Pompadour's\nill-humour would make itself felt on innocent and guilty alike.\n\nThat he himself was a ruined man and that, through the interference of\nthat weak-kneed young , whom it had been the fashion in Versailles\nmildly to despise, was the one great, all-absorbing fact which seemed\nto turn Gaston's blood into living fire within his veins.\n\nAnd the man who had thus deliberately snatched a couple of millions or\nmore from his grip stood there, not twenty paces away, calm, somewhat\ngauche in manner, yet with that certain stiff dignity peculiar to\nEnglishmen of high rank, and withal apparently unconscious of the fact\nthat the rival whom he had deprived of a fortune was in this same room\nwith him, burning with rage and thirsting for revenge.\n\nGaston watched his enemy for awhile as he now settled himself at the\ntable, with Jean Marie ministering obsequiously to his wants. Soon\nmine host had arranged everything to his guest's liking, had placed a\ndish of stewed veal before him, a bottle of wine, some nice fresh\nbread, then retired walking backwards, so wonderfully deferential was\nhe to the man who dealt with gold as others would with tin.\n\nOne grim thought had now risen in Stainville's mind, the revival of a\nmemory, half-faded: an insult, a challenge, refused by that man, who\nhad thwarted him!\n\nA coward? Eh?\n\nThese English would not fight! 'twas well known; in battle, yes! but\nnot in single combat, not in a meeting 'twixt gentlemen, after a heady\nbottle of wine when tempers wax hot, and swords skip almost of\nthemselves out of the scabbard.\n\nAye! he would ride a hundred and eighty leagues, to frustrate a plan,\nor nathless to dip into the well-filled coffers of the Jacobite\nAlliance--such things were possible--but he would not fight!\n\nGaston hugged the thought! it was grim but delicious! revenge, bitter,\nawful, complete revenge was there, quite easy of accomplishment.\nFortune was lost to him, but not revenge! Not before his hand had\nstruck the cheek of his enemy.\n\nThis was his right. No one could blame him. Not even the King, sworn\nfoe of duelling though he might profess to be.\n\nA long laugh now broke from Gaston's burning throat! Was it not all\nridiculous, senseless, and puerile?\n\nHis Majesty the King, Pompadour, the Duc d'Aumont, Prime Minister of\nFrance, and he himself, Gaston de Stainville, the most ruthlessly\nambitious man in the kingdom, all fooled, stupidly fooled and tricked\nby that man, who was too great a coward to meet the rival whom he had\ninsulted.\n\nAt Gaston's laugh Eglinton turned to look in his direction, and his\neyes met those of de Mortemar fixed intently upon him.\n\n\"Surely it is M. le Controleur-General,\" said the latter, jumping to\nhis feet.\n\nHe had paid no heed to his guest's curious outburst of merriment,\nputting it down as another expression of his strange humour, else to\nthe potency of Jean Marie's wine; but he had been deeply interested in\nthe elegant figure of the stranger, that perfect type of a high-born\ngentleman which the young man was quick enough to recognise. The face,\nthe quaintly awkward manner, brought back certain recollections of two\ndays spent at the Court of Versailles.\n\nNow when Eglinton turned toward him, he at once recognised the\nhandsome face, and those kind eyes, which always looked grave and\nperfectly straight at an interlocutor.\n\n\"Milor Eglinton, a thousand pardons,\" he now said as he moved quickly\nacross the room. \"I had failed to recognise you at first, and had\nlittle thought of seeing so great a personage in this sleepy old\ntown.\"\n\nEglinton too had risen at his first words and had stepped forward,\nwith his habitual courtesy, to greet the young man. De Mortemar's hand\nwas cordially stretched out toward him, the next moment he would have\nclasped that of the young Englishman, when with one bound and a rush\nacross the room and with one wild shout of rage, Gaston de Stainville\novertook his friend and, catching hold of his arm, he drew him roughly\nback.\n\n\"Nay! de Mortemar, my friend,\" he cried loudly, \"be warned in time\nlest your honest hand come in contact with that of a coward.\"\n\nHis words echoed along the vast, empty room. Then there was dead\nsilence. Instinctively Mortemar had stepped back as if he had been\nstung. He did not of course understand the meaning of it all, and was\nso taken aback that he could no nothing but stare amazed at the figure\nof the young man before him. Eglinton's placidity had in no sense\ngiven way before the deadly insult; only his face had become pale as\ndeath, but the eyes still looked grave, earnest and straight at his\nenemy.\n\n\"Aye! a coward,\" said Gaston, who during these few moments of silence\nhad fought the trembling of his limbs, the quiver of his voice. He saw\nthe calm of the other man and with a mighty effort smothered the\ncryings of his rage, leaving cool contempt free play. \"Or will you\ndeny here, before my friend le Comte de Mortemar, who was about to\ntouch your hand, that last night having insulted me you refused to\ngive me satisfaction? Coward! you have no right to touch another's\nhand . . . the hand of an honourable gentleman. . . . Coward! . . . Do\nyou hear me? I'll say it again--coward--and coward again ere I shout\nit on the house-tops of Versailles--coward!--even now when my hand has\nstruck your cheek--coward!\"\n\nHow it all happened Mortemar himself could not afterward have said,\nthe movement must have been extraordinarily quick, for even as the\nlast word \"Coward!\" rose to Gaston's lips it was drowned in an\ninvoluntary cry of agony, whilst his hand, raised ready to strike, was\nheld in a grip which indeed seemed like one of steel.\n\n\"'Tis done, man! 'tis done!\" said the gentle, perfectly even voice,\n\"but in the name of Heaven provoke me no further, or it will be murder\ninstead of fight. There!\" he added, releasing the other man's wrist,\nwho staggered back faint and giddy with the pain, \"'tis true that I\nrefused to meet you in combat yester e'en; the life of my friend,\nlonely and betrayed, out there in far-off Scotland, had been the price\nof delay if I did not ride out of Versailles before cock-crow, but\nnow 'tis another matter,\" he added lightly, \"and I am at your\nservice.\"\n\n\"Aye!\" sneered Gaston, still writhing with pain, \"at my service now,\nwhen you hope that my broken wrist will ensure your impunity.\"\n\n\"Nay, sir, but at your service across the width of this table,\"\nresponded Eglinton coldly, \"a pair of pistols, one unloaded. . . . And\nwe'll both use the left hand.\"\n\nAn exclamation of protest broke from Mortemar's lips.\n\n\"Impossible! . . .\"\n\n\"Why so, Monsieur le Comte?\"\n\n\"'Twere murder, milor!\"\n\n\"Does M. le Comte de Stainville protest?\" queried the other calmly.\n\n\"No! damn you! . . . Where are the pistols?\"\n\n\"Yours, M. le Comte, an you will; surely you have not ridden all the\nway from Versailles without a pair in your holster.\"\n\n\"Well guessed, milor,\" quoth Gaston lightly. \"Mortemar, I pray you, in\nthe pocket of my coat . . . a pair of pistols.\"\n\nMortemar tried again to protest.\n\n\"Silence!\" said Gaston savagely, \"do you not see that I must kill\nhim?\"\n\n\"'Tis obvious as the crescent moon yonder, M. de Mortemar,\" said\nEglinton with a whimsical smile. \"I entreat you, the pistols.\"\n\nThe young man obeyed in silence. He strode across the room to the\nplace lately vacated by Gaston, and near which his cloak was lying\nclose to his hat and whip. Mortemar groped in the pockets: he found\nthe two pistols and then rejoined the antagonists.\n\n\"I used one against a couple of footpads in the early dawn,\" said\nGaston, as he took the weapons from Mortemar's hands and placed them\non the table.\n\n\"'Twas lucky, Monsieur le Comte,\" rejoined Eglinton gravely, \"then all\nwe need do is to throw for the choice.\"\n\n\"Dice,\" said Stainville curtly.\n\nOn a table close by there was a dice-box, left there by one of Jean\nMarie's customers: Mortemar, without a word, handed it to Eglinton. He\ncould not understand the placidity of the man: Gaston's attitude was\nsimple enough, primitive animal rage, blinding him to the possibility\nof immediate death; excitement too, giving him a sense of bravado, an\narrogant disregard of the consequences of his own provocation.\n\nEglinton was within his rights. He was now the insulted party, he\ncould make his own conditions, but did he wish to die? or was he so\nsupremely indifferent to life that he could view with perfect serenity\nthat pair of pistols, one of which death-dealing of a surety across a\nnarrow table, and that box of dice the arbiter of his fate?\n\nOf a truth Eglinton was perfectly indifferent as to the issue of the\ncombat. He did not care if he killed Gaston, nor did he care to live.\nLydie hated him, so what mattered if the sky was blue, or if the sun\nceased to shed radiance over the earth?\n\nIt was the supreme indifference of a man who with life had nothing\nelse to lose.\n\nHis hand was absolutely steady as he took the dice-box and threw:\n\n\"Blank!\" murmured Mortemar under his breath, as he saw the result of\nthe throw. Yet the face of milor was as impassive as before, even\nthough now by all the rules of chance Gaston's was the winning hand.\n\n\"Three!\" he said calmly, as the dice once more rolled on to the table.\n\"Monsieur le Comte, the choice of weapon rests with you.\"\n\nOnce more Mortemar tried to interpose. This was monstrous! horrible! a\nshocking, brutal murder!\n\n\"Monsieur de Stainville knows his own weapons,\" he said impulsively,\n\"he discharged one this morning and . . .\"\n\n\"Milor should have thought of this before!\" retorted Stainville\nsavagely.\n\n\"The remark did not come from me, Monsieur,\" rejoined Eglinton\npassively, \"an you will choose your weapon, I am fully satisfied.\"\n\nBut his grave eyes found occasion to send a kindly glance of gratitude\nto young de Mortemar. The latter felt a tightening of his very heart\nstrings: he would at this moment have willingly given his fortune to\navert the awful catastrophe.\n\n\"Mortemar, an you interfere,\" said Gaston, divining his thoughts,\n\"I'll brand you as a meddler before the Court of Versailles. An you\nare afraid to see bloodshed, get you gone in the name of hell.\"\n\nBy all the unwritten laws which governed such affairs of honour,\nMortemar could not interfere. He did not know the right or wrong of\nthe original enmity between these two men, but had already guessed\nthat mere disappointment with regard to the voyage of _Le Monarque_\nhad not been sufficient to kindle such deadly hate: vaguely he\nsurmised that somewhere in the background lurked the rustle of a silk\npetticoat.\n\nWithout the slightest hesitation now Gaston took one of the pistols in\nhis left hand: his right still caused him excruciating pain; and every\ntime he felt the agony, his eyes gleamed with more intense savagery,\nthe lust of a certain revenge.\n\nHe had worked himself up into a passion of hate. Money has the power\nto do that sometimes; that vanished hope of fortune had killed every\ninstinct in the man, save that of desire for vengeance. He was sure of\nhimself. The pistols were his as de Mortemar had said, and he had\nhandled them but a few hours ago: he could apprise their\nweight--loaded or unloaded--and he was quite satisfied.\n\nIt was hatred alone that prompted him to a final thrust, a blow, he\nthought, to a dying man. Eglinton was as good as dead, with the muzzle\nof a loaded pistol a foot away from his breast, and an empty weapon in\nhis own hand; but his serenity irritated Gaston; the blood which\ntingled in his own veins, which had rushed to his head almost\nobscuring his vision clamoured for a sight of a shrinking enemy, not\nof a wooden puppet, calm, impassive even before certain death.\n\nThe agony as he lifted the half-broken wrist to his coat was\nintolerable, but he almost welcomed it now, for it added a strange,\nlustful joy to the excitement of this deed. His eyes, glowing and\nrestless with fumes of wine and passion of hate, were fixed upon the\nmarble-like face of his enemy. Then from the breast-pocket of his\ncoat, he drew a packet of papers.\n\nAnd although he was nigh giddy with the pain in his wrist, he clutched\nthat packet tightly, toyed with it for a while, smoothed out the\ncreases with a hand which shook with the intensity of his excitement,\nthe intensity of his triumph.\n\nThe proofs in Madame la Marquise d'Eglinton's own writing that she was\nat one with the gang who meant to sell the Stuart prince for gold! The\nmap revealing his hiding-place! and her letter to him bidding him\ntrust the bearer whose orders--now affixed to map and letter--were\nthat he deliver the young Pretender into the hands of the English\nauthorities.\n\nThat these orders to _Le Monarque_ had been forestalled by milor\nEglinton could not exonerate Madame la Marquise from having been at\none with Gaston de Stainville and Madame de Pompadour, and others who\nmight remain nameless, in the blackest treachery ever planned against\na trusting friend.\n\nNo wonder Gaston de Stainville forgot physical suffering when he toyed\nlovingly with this packet of papers in his hand, the consummation of\nhis revenge.\n\nAt last 'twas done. A subtle, indefinable change had come over the\ncalm face of Lord Eglinton, an ashen grey hue which had chased the\nformer pallor of the cheeks, and the slender hand, which held the\npistol, trembled almost imperceptibly.\n\nSerenity had given way at sight of that packet of papers.\n\n\"Friend de Mortemar,\" said Gaston lightly, but with glowing eyes still\nfixed on his opponent, \"the chances of my demise being at least equal\nto those of milor's--seeing that I know not, on my honour, which is\nthe loaded pistol, and that methinks at this moment I can read murder\nin his eye--I pray you to take charge of this packet. It is a sacred\ntrust. In case of my death promise me that you will deliver it into\nthe hands of my wife, and into no other. Madame la Comtesse de\nStainville will know how to deal with it.\"\n\nThe young Comte de Mortemar took the packet from Gaston.\n\n\"I will do as you desire,\" he said coldly.\n\n\"You promise that no one shall touch these papers except my wife,\nIrene Comtesse de Stainville,\" reiterated Gaston solemnly.\n\n\"On my word of honour,\" rejoined the young man.\n\nThe request was perfectly proper and natural, very usual in such\ncases; de Mortemar could not help but comply. He could not know that\nthe fulfilment of this promise would mean public dishonour to an\ninnocent and noble woman, and the supreme revenge of a baffled\ntraitor.\n\nIf Gaston expected protest, rage, or excitement from his foe he was\ncertainly disappointed. Eglinton had all the characteristics of his\nrace, perfect sang-froid in the face of the inevitable, and an almost\nmorbid consciousness of pride and dignity. He could not filch those\npapers from Gaston nor prevent de Mortemar from accepting and\nfulfilling a trust, which had all the appearance of being sacred.\n\nHe knew that by this act he had wrested a fortune from a man whose\nfetish was money, and the power which money gives: true that being an\nhonest man himself, he had never thought of such an infamous revenge.\n\nIf he died now Heaven help his proud Lydie! but if he lived then\nHeaven help them both!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\nTHE LETTER\n\n\nDe Mortemar had stowed the packet carefully away inside his coat,\nGaston keenly watching his antagonist the while.\n\n\"Are you ready, milor?\" he asked now with marked insolence of manner.\n\n\"At your service,\" replied the other quietly. \"M. de Mortemar, will\nyou give the word?\"\n\nThe two men stood opposite to one another, a table not four feet wide\nbetween them. Each held a pistol in his left hand. Of these one was\nloaded, the other not. De Mortemar had cleared the table, pushing\naside the decanter of wine, the tureen of soup, the glasses. The\nwindow was still open, and from that outside world which to these men\nhere present seemed so far away, there came the sound of the old\nchurch belfry tolling the hour of eight, and still from afar that\nmelancholy tune, the Norman ditty sung by young throats:\n\n \"C'est les Normands, qu'a dit ma mere,\n \"C'est les Normands qu'ont conquis l'Angleterre!\"\n\n\"Fire!\" said de Mortemar.\n\nTwo arms were raised. Eye was fixed to eye for one brief second, then\nlowered for the aim. There was a slight dull sound, then a terrible\ncurse muttered below the breath, as the pistol which Gaston de\nStainville had vainly tried to fire dropped from his hand.\n\nHad his excitement blinded him when he chose his weapon, or was it\njust fate, ruthless, inscrutable, that had placed the loaded pistol in\nLord Eglinton's hand?\n\n\"A blank!\" he shouted with a blasphemous oath. \"_A vous_, milor! Curse\nyou, why don't you fire?\"\n\n\"Fire, milor, in Heaven's name,\" said Mortemar, who was as pale as\ndeath. \"'Tis cruelty to prolong.\"\n\nBut Eglinton too had dropped his arm.\n\n\"M. le Comte de Stainville,\" he said calmly, \"before I use this weapon\nagainst you, as I would against a mad dog, I'll propose a bargain for\nyour acceptance.\"\n\n\"You'd buy that packet of precious documents from me, eh?\" sneered\nGaston savagely, \"nay, milor, 'tis no use offering millions to a dying\nman. . . . Shoot, shoot, milor! the widowed Comtesse de Stainville\nwill deal with those documents and no one else. . . . They are not for\nsale, I tell you, not for all your millions now!\"\n\n\"Not even for this pistol, M. le Comte?\"\n\nAnd calm, serene with that whimsical smile again playing round the\ncorners of his expressive mouth, Lord Eglinton offered the loaded\npistol to his enemy.\n\n\"My life? . . .\" stammered Gaston, \"you would? . . .\"\n\n\"Nay, mine, M. le Comte,\" rejoined milor. \"I'll not stir from this\nspot. I offer you this pistol and you shall use it at your pleasure,\nafter you have handed me that packet of letters.\"\n\nInstinctively Gaston had drawn back, lost in a maze of surprise.\n\n\"An you'll not take the weapon, M. le Comte,\" said Eglinton\ndecisively, \"I shoot.\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence, whilst Gaston's pride fought a grim\nbattle with that awful instinct of self-preservation, that strange\nlove of fleeting life to which poor mortals cling.\n\nMen were not cowards in those days; life was cheap and oft sold for\nthe gratification of petty vanity, yet who shall blame Gaston if, with\ncertain death before him, he chose to forego his revenge?\n\n\"Give me that pistol, milor,\" he said dully, \"de Mortemar, hand over\nthat packet to Lord Eglinton.\"\n\nHe took the pistol from milor, and it was his own hand that trembled.\n\nSilently de Mortemar obeyed. Milor took the packet of papers from him,\nthen held them one by one to the flame of the candle: first the map,\nthen the letter which bore Lydie's name writ so boldly across it. The\nblack ash curled and fell from his hand on to the table, he gripped\nthe paper until his seared fingers could hold it no longer.\n\nThen he once more stood up, turning straight toward Gaston.\n\n\"I am ready, M. le Comte,\" he said simply.\n\nGaston raised his left arm and fired. There was a wild, an agonized\nshriek which came from a woman's throat, coupled with one of horror\nfrom de Mortemar's lips, as _le petit Anglais_ stood for the space of\na few seconds, quite still, firm and upright, with scarce a change\nupon his calm face, then sank forward without a groan.\n\n\"Madame, you are hurt!\" shouted de Mortemar, who was almost dazed with\nsurprise at the sight of a woman at this awful and supreme moment. He\nhad just seen her, in the vivid flash when Gaston raised his arm and\nfired: she had rushed forward then, with the obvious intention of\nthrowing herself before the murderous weapon, and now was making\npathetic and vain efforts to raise her husband's inanimate body from\nthe table against which he had fallen.\n\n\"Coward! coward!\" she sobbed in anguish, \"you have stilled the bravest\nheart in France!\"\n\n\"Pray God that I have not,\" murmured Gaston fervently, as, impelled by\nsome invisible force, he threw the pistol from him, then sank on his\nknees and buried his face in his hands.\n\nBut Mortemar had soon recovered his presence of mind, and had already\nreached his wounded friend, calling quickly to Jean Marie who\napparently had followed in the wake of Madame la Marquise in her wild\nrush from her coach to the inner room.\n\nTogether the two men succeeded in lifting Lord Eglinton and in gently\ninsinuating his body backward into a recumbent position. Thus\nLydie--still on her knees--received her lord in her arms. Her eyes\nwere fixed upon his pallid face with passionate intensity. It seemed\nas if she would wrest from those closed lids the secret of life or\ndeath.\n\n\"He'll not die? . . .\" she whispered wildly; \"tell me that he'll not\ndie!\"\n\nA deep red stain was visible on the left side, spreading on the fine\ncloth of the coat. With clumsy though willing fingers, Mortemar was\ndoing his best to get the waistcoat open, and to stop temporarily the\nrapid flow of blood with Lydie's scarf, which she had wrenched from\nher shoulders.\n\n\"Quick, Jean Marie! the leech!\" he ordered, \"and have the rooms\nprepared . . .\"\n\nThen, as Jean Marie obeyed with unusual alacrity and anon his\nstentorian voice calling to ostler and maids echoed through the\nsilence of the house, Lydie's eyes met those of the young man.\n\n\"Madame! Madame! I beseech you,\" he said appalled at the terrible look\nof agony expressed on the beautiful, marble-like face, \"let me attend\nyou . . . I vow that you are hurt.\"\n\n\"No! no!\" she rejoined quickly, \"only my hand . . . I tried to clutch\nthe weapon . . . but 'twas too late . . .\"\n\nBut she yielded her hand to him. The shot had indeed pierced the\nfleshy portion between thumb and forefinger, leaving an ugly gash: the\nwound was bleeding profusely and already she felt giddy and sick. De\nMortemar bound up the little hand with his handkerchief as best he\ncould. She hardly heeded him, beyond that persistent appeal, terrible\nin its heartrending pathos:\n\n\"He'll not die . . . tell me that he'll not die.\"\n\nWhilst not five paces away, Gaston de Stainville still knelt, praying\nthat the ugly stain of murder should not for ever sully his hand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII\n\nTHE HOME IN ENGLAND\n\n\nThe first words which milor uttered when presently consciousness\nreturned were:\n\n\"The letter . . . Madonna . . . 'tis destroyed . . . I swear. . . .\"\n\nHe was then lying in Jean Marie's best bed, between lavender-scented\nsheets. On his right a tiny open window afforded a glimpse of sea and\nsky, and of many graceful craft gently lolling on the breast of the\nwaves, but on his left, when anon he turned his eyes that way, there\nwas a picture which of a truth was not of this earth, and vaguely,\nwith the childish and foolish fancy of a sick man who hath gazed on\nthe dark portals, he allowed himself to think that all the old tales\nof his babyhood, about the first glimpse of paradise after death, must\nindeed be true.\n\nHe was dead and this was paradise.\n\nWhat he saw was a woman's face, with grave anxious eyes fixed upon\nhim, and a woman's smile which revealed an infinity of love and\npromised an infinity of happiness.\n\n\"Madonna!\" he murmured feebly. Then he closed his eyes again, for he\nwas weak from loss of blood and from days and nights of fever and\ndelirium, and he was so afraid that the vision might vanish if he\ngazed at it too long.\n\nThe leech--a kindly man--visited him frequently. Apparently the wound\nwas destined to heal. Life was to begin anew, with its sorrows, its\ndisappointments, its humiliations, mayhap.\n\nYet a memory haunted him persistently--a vision, oh! 'twas a mere\nflash--of his madonna standing with her dear, white hand outstretched,\nbetwixt him and death.\n\nIt was a vision, of course; such as are vouchsafed to the dying: and\nthe other picture?--nay! that was a fevered dream; there had been no\ntender, grave eyes that watched him, no woman's smile to promise\nhappiness.\n\nOne day M. le Duc d'Aumont came to visit him. He had posted straight\nfrom Paris, and was singularly urbane and anxious when he pressed the\nsick man's hand.\n\n\"You must make a quick recovery, milor,\" he said cordially; \"_par\nDieu!_ you are the hero of the hour. Mortemar hath talked his fill.\"\n\n\"I trust not,\" rejoined Eglinton gravely.\n\nM. le Duc looked conscious and perturbed.\n\n\"Nay! he is a gallant youth,\" he said reassuringly, \"and knows exactly\nhow to hold his tongue, but Belle-Isle and de Lugeac had to be taught\na lesson . . . and 'twas well learned I'll warrant you. . . . As for\nGaston. . . .\"\n\n\"Yes! M. le Duc? what of M. le Comte de Stainville?\"\n\n\"He hath left the Court momentarily . . . somewhat in disgrace . . .\n'twas a monstrous encounter, milor,\" added the Duke gravely. \"Had\nGaston killed you it had been murder, for you never meant to shoot, so\nsays de Mortemar.\"\n\nThe sick man's head turned restlessly on the pillow.\n\n\"De Mortemar's tongue hath run away with him,\" he said impatiently.\n\n\"The account of the duel . . . nothing more, on my honour,\" rejoined\nthe Duke. \"No woman's name has been mentioned, but I fear me the Court\nand public have got wind of the story of a conspiracy against the\nStuart prince, and connect the duel with that event--hence your\npopularity, milor,\" continued the older man with a sigh, \"and Gaston's\ndisgrace.\"\n\n\"His Majesty's whipping-boy, eh? the scapegoat in the aborted\nconspiracy?\"\n\n\"Poor Gaston! You bear him much ill-will, milor, no doubt?\"\n\n\"I? None, on my honour.\"\n\nM. le Duc hesitated a while, a troubled look appeared on his handsome\nface.\n\n\"Lydie,\" he said tentatively. \"Milor, she left Paris that night alone\n. . . and travelled night and day to reach Le Havre in time to help\nyou and to thwart Gaston . . . she had been foolish of course, but her\nmotives were pure . . . milor, she is my child and . . .\"\n\n\"She is my wife, M. le Duc,\" interrupted Lord Eglinton gravely; \"I\nneed no assurance of her purity even from her father.\"\n\nThere was such implicit trust, such complete faith expressed in those\nfew simple words, that instinctively M. le Duc d'Aumont felt ashamed\nthat he could ever have misunderstood his daughter. He was silent for\na moment or two, then he said more lightly:\n\n\"His Majesty is much angered of course.\"\n\n\"Against me, I hope,\" rejoined Eglinton.\n\n\"Aye!\" sighed the Duke. \"King Louis is poorer by fifteen million\nlivres by your act, milor.\"\n\n\"And richer by the kingdom of honour. As for the millions, M. le Duc,\nI'll place them myself at His Majesty's service. My chateau and\ndependencies of Choisy are worth that,\" added milor lightly. \"As soon\nas this feeble hand can hold a pen, I'll hand them over to the crown\nof France as a free gift.\"\n\n\"You will do that, milor?\" gasped the Duke, who could scarce believe\nhis ears.\n\n\"'Tis my firm intention,\" rejoined the sick man with a smile.\n\nA great weight had been lifted from M. le Duc's mind. Royal\ndispleasure would indeed have descended impartially on all the friends\nof \"le petit Anglais\" and above all on milor's father-in-law, whose\nvery presence at Court would of a surety have become distasteful to\nthe disappointed monarch. Now this unparalleled generosity would more\nthan restore Louis' confidence in a Prime Minister whose chief virtue\nconsisted in possessing so wealthy and magnanimous a son-in-law.\n\nIndeed we know that M. le Duc d'Aumont continued for some time after\nthese memorable days to enjoy the confidence and gratitude of Louis\nthe Well-beloved and to bask in the sunshine of Madame de Pompadour's\nsmiles, whilst the gift of the chateau and dependencies of Choisy by\nMilor the Marquis of Eglinton to the crown of France was made the\nsubject of a public fete at Versailles and of an ode by M. Jolyot\nCrebillon of the Institut de France, writ especially for the occasion.\n\nBut after the visit of M. le Duc d'Aumont at his bedside in the\n\"auberge des Trois Matelots\" the munificent donor of fifteen millions\nlivres felt over-wearied of life.\n\nThe dream which had soothed his fevered sleep no longer haunted his\nwaking moments, and memory had much ado to feed love of life with the\nrememberance of one happy moment.\n\nMilor the Marquis of Eglinton closed his eyes, sighing for that dream.\nThe little room was so still, so peaceful, and from the tiny window a\ngentle breeze from across the English Channel fanned his aching brow,\nbringing back with its soothing murmur the memory of that stately home\nin England, for which his father had so often sighed.\n\nHow peaceful it must be there among the hills!\n\nThe breeze murmured more persistently, and anon with its dreamlike\nsound there mingled the frou-frou of a woman's skirts.\n\nThe sick man ventured to open his eyes.\n\nLydie, his wife, was kneeling beside his bed, her delicate hands\nclasped under her chin, her eyes large, glowing and ever grave fixed\nupon his face.\n\n\"Am I on earth?\" he murmured quaintly.\n\n\"Of a truth, milor,\" she replied, and her voice was like the most\nexquisite music he had ever heard; it was earnest and serious like her\nown self, but there was a tremor in it which rendered it unspeakably\nsoft.\n\n\"The leech saith there's no longer any danger for your life,\" she\nadded.\n\nHe was silent for awhile, as if he were meditating on a grave matter,\nthen he said quietly:\n\n\"Would you have me live, Lydie?\"\n\nAnd as she did not reply, he repeated his question again:\n\n\"Do you wish me to live, Lydie?\"\n\nShe fought with the tears, which against her will gathered in her\neyes.\n\n\"Milor, milor, are you not cruel now?\" she whispered through those\ntears.\n\n\"Cruel of a truth,\" he replied earnestly, \"since you would have saved\nme at peril of your own dear life. . . . Yet would I gladly die to see\nyou happy.\"\n\n\"Will you not rather live, milor?\" she said with a smile of infinite\ntenderness, \"for then only could I taste happiness.\"\n\n\"Yet if I lived, you would have to give up so much that you love.\"\n\n\"That is impossible, milor, for I only love one thing.\"\n\n\"Your work in France?\" he asked.\n\n\"No. My life with you.\"\n\nHer hands dropped on to the coverlet, and he grasped them in his own.\nHow oft had she drawn away at his touch. Now she yielded, drawing\nnearer to him, still on her knees.\n\n\"Would you come to England with me, Lydie? to my home in England,\namongst the hills of Sussex, far from Court life and from politics?\nWould you follow me thither?\"\n\n\"To the uttermost ends of the world, good milor,\" she replied.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note: Obvious punctuation errors, such as missing periods\nor unpaired quotation marks, have been corrected. In addition, the\nfollowing typographical errors present in the original edition have been\ncorrected.\n\nIn Chapter V, \"The King sleeps, Monseiur\" was changed to \"The King\nsleeps, Monsieur\".\n\nIn Chapter VI, \"the Marechal de Saint Romans, friend and mentor\" was\nchanged to \"the Marechal de Saint Romans, friend and mentor\",\n\"unscrupluous ambition\" was changed to \"unscrupulous ambition\",\n\"'Irene,' he said earnestly\" was changed to \"'Irene,' he said\nearnestly\", and \"the appearance of Jeanne Poisson d'Etoiles\" was changed\nto \"the appearance of Jeanne Poisson d'Etioles\".\n\nIn Chapter VII, \"the enthusiasm of Mlle. de.Aumont\" was changed to \"the\nenthusiasm of Mlle. d'Aumont\".\n\nIn Chapter VIII, \"cause Louis XV, to make comparisons\" was changed to\n\"cause Louis XV to make comparisons\", and \"no longer though of flight\"\nwas changed to \"no longer thought of flight\".\n\nIn Chapter X, \"anything one can do to oblige a friend\" was changed to\n\"Anything one can do to oblige a friend\".\n\nIn Chapter XI, \"if she succeded presently\" was changed to \"if she\nsucceeded presently\", and \"Irene, therefore\" was changed to \"Irene,\ntherefore\".\n\nIn Chapter XII, \"whom she had feted\" was changed to \"whom she had\nfeted\", and \"Why,? Why?\" was changed to \"Why? Why?\"\n\nIn Chapter XIII, \"mandate of usuage\" was changed to \"mandate of usage\",\n\"pettis levers of kings\" was changed to \"petits levers of kings\", and\n\"Louis XV a the end of his progress\" was changed to \"Louis XV at the end\nof his progress\".\n\nIn Chapter XIV, \"And l'Anglias?\" was changed to \"And l'Anglais?\", \"T'is\nfairly simple\" was changed to \"'Tis fairly simple\", and \"thought,\nanxiety. and a wealth of eloquence\" was changed to \"thought, anxiety,\nand a wealth of eloquence\".\n\nIn Chapter XVI, \"coeoperation of a man\" was changed to \"cooperation of a\nman\", \"he had blundered\" was changed to \"He had blundered\", and \"all\nmatters Madame\" was changed to \"all matters, Madame\".\n\nIn Chapter XVII, \"either more of less\" was changed to \"either more or\nless\", and \"load of oppresson\" was changed to \"load of oppression\".\n\nIn Chapter XVIII, \"in which case. . . .\" was changed to \"in which case\n. . .\", \"privileged to. . . .\" was changed to \"privileged to . . .\", \"I\nif hold aloof\" was changed to \"if I hold aloof\", and \"met by M. le duc\nd'Aumont\" was changed to \"met by M. le Duc d'Aumont\".\n\nIn Chapter XIX, \"additonal message\" was changed to \"additional message\",\nand \"bracken and foxgloxes\" was changed to \"bracken and foxgloves\".\n\nIn Chapter XX, \"to the palace now, Monseur\" was changed to \"to the\npalace now, Monsieur\".\n\nIn Chapter XXII, \"His Majesty' hands\" was changed to \"His Majesty's\nhands\", and \"so compeletly condoned\" was changed to \"so completely\ncondoned\".\n\nIn Chapter XXIV, \"English husband's always beat their wives\" was changed\nto \"English husbands always beat their wives\".\n\nIn Chapter XXVI, \"whilst la belle Irene\" was changed to \"whilst la belle\nIrene\", \"his partners's attitude\" was changed to \"his partner's\nattitude\", \"d'Amont, never a very keen observer\" was changed to\n\"d'Aumont, never a very keen observer\", and \"came to the foot of the\nRoyal dais\" was changed to \"came to the foot of the Royal dais\".\n\nIn Chapter XXVII, \"fatuous innundoes\" was changed to \"fatuous\ninnuendoes\", and \"take the matter so throughly\" was changed to \"take the\nmatter so thoroughly\".\n\nIn Chapter XXVIII, \"between herself and Irene\" was changed to \"between\nherself and Irene\".\n\nIn Chapter XXIX, \"spoke up to indiscreetly\" was changed to \"spoke up so\nindiscreetly\".\n\nIn Chapter XXX, \"bent his ear so listen\" was changed to \"bent his ear to\nlisten\", \"Achille looked at M. Druand\" was changed to \"Achille looked at\nM. Durand\", \"M. Durand's was about to\" was changed to \"M. Durand was\nabout to\", and \"have insulted M. le Comte de Stainivlle\" was changed to\n\"have insulted M. le Comte de Stainville\".\n\nIn Chapter XXXI, \"those accupied by milor\" was changed to \"those\naccupied by milor\", and \"Achille! ar you here?\" was changed to \"Achille!\nare you here?\".\n\nIn Chapter XXXII, a semicolon was added after \"ill-will toward Lord\nEglinton\".\n\nIn Chapter XXXV, \"from the sacred precints\" was changed to \"from the\nsacred precincts\", \"His Majesty's had not sent\" was changed to \"His\nMajesty had not sent\", \"occupied by Gaston and de Montemar\" was changed\nto \"occupied by Gaston and de Mortemar\", \"Lieutenant Tellier had speech\noustide\" was changed to \"Lieutenant Tellier had speech outside\", \"still\naddresing de Mortemar\" was changed to \"still addressing de Mortemar\",\nand \"weakness nor, yet ill-humour, visible\" was changed to \"weakness,\nnor yet ill-humour, visible\".\n\nIn Chapter XXXVI, \"for even at the last word rose\" was changed to \"for\neven as the last word rose\", and \"my wife, Irene\" was changed to \"my\nwife, Irene\".\n\nIn Chapter XXXVIII, \"Me. le Duc looked conscious\" was changed to \"M. le\nDuc looked conscious\", \"That is impossilbe, milor\" was changed to \"That\nis impossible, milor\", and \"the rememberance of one happy moment\" was\nchanged to \"the remembrance of one happy moment\".\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Petticoat Rule, by Emmuska Orczy, Baroness Orczy\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n THE DORRANCE DOMAIN\n\n _By_ CAROLYN WELLS\n\n\n _Illustrated by_\n PELAGIE DOANE\n\n GROSSET & DUNLAP\n _Publishers_ NEW YORK\n\n _Copyright, 1905_,\n BY W. A. WILDE COMPANY,\n _All rights reserved_.\n\n The Dorrance Domain.\n\n Made in the United States of America\n\n\n[Illustration: \"IF THAT'S THE DORRANCE DOMAIN, IT'S ALL RIGHT. WHAT DO\nYOU THINK, FAIRY?\"]\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n CHAPTER PAGE\n\n I. COOPED UP 9\n\n II. REBELLIOUS HEARTS 22\n\n III. DOROTHY'S PLAN 35\n\n IV. THE DEPARTURE 48\n\n V. THE MAMIE MEAD 60\n\n VI. THE DORRANCE DOMAIN 73\n\n VII. MR. HICKOX 86\n\n VIII. MRS. HICKOX 99\n\n IX. THE FLOATING BRIDGE 112\n\n X. THE HICKOXES AT HOME 124\n\n XI. SIX INVITATIONS 137\n\n XII. GUESTS FOR ALL 149\n\n XIII. AN UNWELCOME LETTER 161\n\n XIV. FINANCIAL PLANS 174\n\n XV. A SUDDEN DETERMINATION 188\n\n XVI. A DARING SCHEME 201\n\n XVII. REGISTERED GUESTS 214\n\n XVIII. AMBITIONS 226\n\n XIX. THE VAN ARSDALE LADIES 239\n\n XX. A REAL HOTEL 252\n\n XXI. UPS AND DOWNS 265\n\n XXII. TWO BOYS AND A BOAT 278\n\n XXIII. AN UNWELCOME PROPOSITION 290\n\n XXIV. DOROTHY'S REWARD 307\n\n\n\n\nThe Dorrance Domain\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nCOOPED UP\n\n\n\"I _wish_ we didn't have to live in a boarding-house!\" said Dorothy\nDorrance, flinging herself into an armchair, in her grandmother's room,\none May afternoon, about six o'clock.\n\nShe made this remark almost every afternoon, about six o'clock, whatever\nthe month or the season, and as a rule, little attention was paid to it.\nBut to-day her sister Lilian responded, in a sympathetic voice,\n\n\"_I_ wish we didn't have to live in a boarding-house!\"\n\nWhereupon Leicester, Lilian's twin brother, mimicking his sister's\ntones, dolefully repeated, \"I wish _we_ didn't have to live in a\nboarding-house!\"\n\nAnd then Fairy, the youngest Dorrance, and the last of the quartet,\nsighed forlornly, \"I wish we didn't have to live in a _boarding-house_!\"\n\nThere was another occupant of the room. A gentle white-haired old lady,\nwhose sweet face and dainty fragile figure had all the effects of an\nivory miniature, or a painting on porcelain.\n\n\"My dears,\" she said, \"I'm sure I wish you didn't.\"\n\n\"Don't look like that, grannymother,\" cried Dorothy, springing to kiss\nthe troubled face of the dear old lady. \"I'd live here a million years,\nrather than have you look so worried about it. And anyway, it wouldn't\nbe so bad, if it weren't for the dinners.\"\n\n\"I don't mind the dinners,\" said Leicester, \"in fact I would be rather\nsorry not to have them. What I mind is the cramped space, and the\nshut-up-in-your-own-room feeling. I spoke a piece in school last week,\nand I spoke it awful well, too, because I just meant it. It began, 'I\nwant free life, and I want fresh air,' and that's exactly what I do\nwant. I wish we lived in Texas, instead of on Manhattan Island. Texas\nhas a great deal more room to the square yard, and I don't believe\npeople are crowded down there.\"\n\n\"There can't be more room to a square yard in one place than another,\"\nsaid Lilian, who was practical.\n\n\"I mean back yards and front yards and side yards,--and I don't care\nwhether they're square or not,\" went on Leicester, warming to his\nsubject. \"My air-castle is situated right in the middle of the state of\nTexas, and it's the only house in the state.\"\n\n\"Mine is in the middle of a desert island,\" said Lilian; \"it's so much\nnicer to feel sure that you can get to the water, no matter in what\ndirection you walk away from your house.\"\n\n\"A desert island would be nice,\" said Leicester; \"it would be more\nexciting than Texas, I suppose, on account of the wild animals. But then\nin Texas, there are wild men and wild animals both.\"\n\n\"I like plenty of room, too,\" said Dorothy, \"but I want it inside my\nhouse as well as out. Since we are choosing, I think I'll choose to\nlive in the Madison Square Garden, and I'll have it moved to the middle\nof a western prairie.\"\n\n\"Well, children,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, \"your ideas are certainly big\nenough, but you must leave the discussion of them now, and go to your\nsmall cramped boarding-house bedrooms, and make yourselves presentable\nto go down to your dinner in a boarding-house dining-room.\"\n\nThis suggestion was carried out in the various ways that were\ncharacteristic of the Dorrance children.\n\nDorothy, who was sixteen, rose from her chair and humming a waltz tune,\ndanced slowly and gracefully across the room. The twins, Lilian and\nLeicester, fell off of the arms of the sofa, where they had been\nperched, scrambled up again, executed a sort of war-dance and then\ndashed madly out of the door and down the hall.\n\nFairy, the twelve year old, who lived up to her name in all respects,\nflew around the room, waving her arms, and singing in a high soprano,\n\"Can I wear my pink sash? Can I wear my pink sash?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, \"you may wear anything you like, if\nyou'll only keep still a minute. You children are too boisterous for a\nboarding-house. You _ought_ to be in the middle of a desert or\nsomewhere. You bewilder me!\"\n\nBut about fifteen minutes later it was four decorous young Dorrances who\naccompanied their grandmother to the dining-room. Not that they wanted\nto be sedate, or enjoyed being quiet, but they were well-bred children\nin spite of their rollicking temperaments. They knew perfectly well how\nto behave properly, and always did it when the occasion demanded.\n\nAnd, too, the atmosphere of Mrs. Cooper's dining-room was an assistance\nrather than a bar to the repression of hilarity.\n\nThe Dorrances sat at a long table, two of the children on either side of\ntheir grandmother, and this arrangement was one of their chief\ngrievances.\n\n\"If we could only have a table to ourselves,\" Leicester often said, \"it\nwouldn't be so bad. But set up side by side, like the teeth in a comb,\ncheerful conversation is impossible.\"\n\n\"But, my boy,\" his grandmother would remonstrate, \"you must learn to\nconverse pleasantly with those who sit opposite you. You can talk with\nyour sisters at other times.\"\n\nSo Leicester tried, but it is exceedingly difficult for a fourteen year\nold boy to adapt himself to the requirements of polite conversation.\n\nOn the evening of which we are speaking, his efforts, though well meant,\nwere unusually unsuccessful.\n\nExactly opposite Leicester sat Mr. Bannister, a ponderous gentleman,\nboth physically and mentally. He was a bachelor, and his only idea\nregarding children was that they should be treated jocosely. He also had\nhis own ideas of jocose treatment.\n\n\"Well, my little man,\" he said, smiling broadly at Leicester, \"did you\ngo to school to-day?\"\n\nAs he asked this question every night at dinner, not even excepting\nSaturdays and Sundays, Leicester felt justified in answering only, \"Yes,\nsir.\"\n\n\"That's nice; and what did you learn?\"\n\nAs this question invariably followed the other, Leicester was not wholly\nunprepared for it. But the discussion of air-castles in Texas, or on a\nprairie, had made the boy a little impatient of the narrow dining-room,\nand the narrow table, and even of Mr. Bannister, though he was by no\nmeans of narrow build.\n\n\"I learned my lessons,\" he replied shortly, though there was no rudeness\nin his tone.\n\n\"Tut, tut, my little man,\" said Mr. Bannister, playfully shaking a fat\nfinger at him, \"don't be rude.\"\n\n\"No, sir, I won't,\" said Leicester, with such an innocent air of\naccepting a general bit of good advice, that Mr. Bannister was quite\ndiscomfited.\n\nGrandma Dorrance looked at Leicester reproachfully, and Mrs. Hill, who\nwas a sharp-featured, sharp-spoken old lady, and who also sat on the\nother side of the table, said severely, to nobody in particular,\n\"Children are not brought up now as they were in my day.\"\n\nThis had the effect of silencing Leicester, for the three older\nDorrances had long ago decided that it was useless to try to talk to\nMrs. Hill. Even if you tried your best to be nice and pleasant, she was\nsure to say something so irritating, that you just _had_ to lose your\ntemper.\n\nBut Fairy did not subscribe to this general decision. Indeed, Fairy's\nchief characteristic was her irrepressible loquacity. So much trouble\nhad this made, that she had several times been forbidden to talk at the\ndinner-table at all. Then Grandma Dorrance would feel sorry for the\ndolefully mute little girl, and would lift the ban, restricting her,\nhowever, to not more than six speeches during any one meal.\n\nFairy kept strict account, and never exceeded the allotted number, but\nshe made each speech as long as she possibly could, and rarely stopped\nuntil positively interrupted.\n\nSo she took it upon herself to respond to Mrs. Hill's remark, and at\nthe same time demonstrate her loyalty to her grandmother.\n\n\"I'm sure, Mrs. Hill,\" Fairy began, \"that nobody could bring up children\nbetter than my grannymother. She is the best children bring-upper in the\nwhole world. I don't know how your grandmother brought you up,--or\nperhaps you had a mother,--some people think they're better than\ngrandmothers. I don't know; I never had a mother, only a grandmother,\nbut she's just the best ever, and if us children aren't good, it's our\nfault and not hers. She says we're boist'rous, and I 'spect we are. Mr.\nBannister says we're rude, and I 'spect we are; but none of these\nobjectionaries is grandma's fault!\" Fairy had a way of using long words\nwhen she became excited, and as she knew very few real ones she often\nmade them up to suit herself. And all her words, long or short came out\nin such a torrent of enthusiasm and emphasis, and with such a degree of\nrapidity that it was a difficult matter to stop her. So on she went. \"So\nit's all right, Mrs. Hill, but when we don't behave just first-rate, or\njust as children did in your day, please keep a-remembering to blame us\nand not grandma. You see,\" and here Fairy's speech assumed a\nconfidential tone, \"we don't have room enough. We want free life and we\nwant fresh air, and then I 'spect we'd be more decorious.\"\n\n\"That will do, Fairy,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, looking at her gravely.\n\n\"Yes'm,\" said Fairy, smiling pleasantly, \"that'll do for one.\"\n\n\"And that makes two! now you've had two speeches, Fairy,\" said her\nbrother, teasingly.\n\n\"I have not,\" said Fairy, \"and an explanationary speech doesn't count!\"\n\n\"Yes, it does,\" cried Lilian, \"and that makes three!\"\n\n\"It doesn't, does it, grandma?\" pleaded Fairy, lifting her big blue eyes\nto her grandmother's face.\n\nMrs. Dorrance looked helpless and a little bewildered, but she only\nsaid, \"Please be quiet, Fairy; I might like to talk a little, myself.\"\n\n\"Oh, that's all right, grandma dear,\" said Fairy, placidly; \"I know how\nit is to feel conversationary myself.\"\n\nThe children's mother had died when Fairy was born, and her father had\ngiven her the name of Fairfax because there had always been a Fairfax\nDorrance in his family for many generations. To be sure it had always\nbefore been a boy baby who was christened Fairfax, but the only boy in\nthis family had been named Leicester; and so, one Fairfax Dorrance was a\ngirl. From the time she was old enough to show any characteristics at\nall, she had been fairy-like in every possible way. Golden hair, big\nblue eyes and a cherub face made her a perfect picture of child beauty.\nThen she was so light and airy, so quick of motion and speech, and so\nimmaculately dainty in her dress and person, that Fairy seemed to be the\nonly fitting name for her. No matter how much she played rollicking\ngames, her frock never became rumpled or soiled; and the big white bow\nwhich crowned her mass of golden curls always kept its shape and\nposition even though its wearer turned somersaults. For Fairy was by no\nmeans a quiet or sedate child. None of the Dorrances were that. And the\nyoungest was perhaps the most headstrong and difficult to control. But\nthough impetuous in her deeds and mis-deeds, her good impulses were\nequally sudden, and she was always ready to apologize or make amends for\nher frequent naughtiness.\n\nAnd so after dinner, she went to Mrs. Hill, and said with a most\nengaging smile, \"I'm sorry if I 'fended you, and I hope I didn't. You\nsee I didn't mean to speak so much, and right at the dinner table, too,\nbut I just _have_ to stand up for my grannymother. She's so old, and so\nladylike that she can't stand up for herself. And I was 'fraid you\nmightn't understand, so I thought I'd 'pologize. Is it all right?\"\n\nFairy looked up into Mrs. Hill's face with such angelic eyes and\npleading smile, that even that dignified lady unbent a little.\n\n\"Yes, my dear,\" she said; \"it's all right for you to stand up for your\ngrandmother, as you express it. But you certainly do talk too much for\nsuch a little girl.\"\n\n\"Yes'm,\" said Fairy, contritely, \"I know I do. It's my upsetting sin;\nbut somehow I can't help it. My head seems to be full of words, and they\njust keep spilling out. Don't you ever talk too much, ma'am?\"\n\n\"No; I don't think I do.\"\n\n\"You ought to be very thankful,\" said Fairy, with a sigh; \"it is an\nawful affliction. Why once upon a time----\"\n\n\"Come, Fairy,\" said Mrs. Dorrance; \"say good-night to Mrs. Hill, and\ncome up-stairs with me.\"\n\n\"Yes, grandma, I'm coming. Good-night, Mrs. Hill; I'm sorry I have to go\njust now 'cause I was just going to tell you an awful exciting story.\nBut perhaps to-morrow----\"\n\n\"Come, Fairy,\" said Mrs. Dorrance; \"come at once!\" And at last the\ngentle old lady succeeded in capturing her refractory granddaughter, and\nled the dancing sprite away to her own room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nREBELLIOUS HEARTS\n\n\nAlthough Mrs. Cooper's boarders were privileged to sit in the parlor in\nthe evening, the Dorrances rarely availed themselves of this permission.\nFor the atmosphere of the formal and over-punctilious drawing-room was\neven more depressing than that of the dining-room. And even had the\nchildren wanted to stay there, which they didn't, Mrs. Dorrance would\nhave been afraid that their irrepressible gayety would have been too\nfreely exhibited. And another thing, they had to study their next day's\nlessons, for their hours between school and dinner-time were always\nspent out of doors.\n\nAnd so every evening they congregated in their grandmother's room, and\nwere studious or frivolous as their mood dictated.\n\nTo-night they were especially fractious.\n\n\"Grannymother,\" exclaimed Lilian, \"it just seems as if I _couldn't_\nlive in this house another minute! there is nobody here I like, except\nour own selves, and I just hate it all!\"\n\n\"Did _you_ go to school to-day, my little man?\" said Leicester, shaking\nhis finger in such funny imitation of Mr. Bannister, that Lilian had to\nlaugh, in spite of her discontentment.\n\n\"I'm so tired of him, too,\" went on Lilian, still scowling. \"Can't we go\nand live somewhere else, grandmother?\"\n\nMrs. Dorrance sighed. She knew only too well the difficulty of securing\ndesirable rooms in a desirable locality with her four lively young\ncharges; and especially at the modest price she was able to pay. Already\nthey had moved six times in their two years of boarding-house life, and\nMrs. Dorrance dreaded the thought of a seventh similar experience.\n\n\"Lilian, dear,\" she said, gently, \"you know how hard it is to find any\nnice boarding-house where they will take four noisy children. And I'm\nsure, in many respects, this is the best one we've ever found.\"\n\n\"I suppose it is,\" said Dorothy, looking up from the French lesson she\nwas studying, \"but I know one thing! as soon as I get through school,\nand I don't mean to go many years more, we're going to get away from\nboarding-houses entirely, and we're going to have a home of our own. I\ndon't suppose it can be in Texas, or the Desert of Sahara, but we'll\nhave a house or an apartment or something, and live by ourselves.\"\n\n\"I wish you might do so,\" said her grandmother, \"but I fear we cannot\nafford it. And, too, I think I would not be able to attend to the\nhousekeeping. When we used to have plenty of servants, it was quite a\ndifferent matter.\"\n\n\"But granny, dear,\" cried Dorothy, \"I don't mean for you to housekeep. I\nmean to do that myself. After I get through school, you know, I'll have\nnothing to do, and I can just as well keep house as not.\"\n\n\"Do you know how?\" asked Fairy, staring at her oldest sister with\nwide-open blue eyes.\n\n\"Can you make a cherry pie?\" sang Leicester. \"I don't believe you can,\nDot; and I'll tell you a better plan than yours. You wait until _I_ get\nout of school, and then I'll go into some business, and earn enough\nmoney to buy a big house for all of us.\"\n\n\"Like the one in Fifty-eighth Street?\" said Dorothy, softly.\n\nThe children always lowered their voices when they spoke of the house on\nFifty-eighth Street. Two years ago, when their grandfather died, they\nhad to move out of that beautiful home, and none of them, not even\nlittle Fairy, could yet speak of it in a casual way.\n\nThe children's father had died only a few years after their mother, and\nthe four had been left without any provision other than that offered by\ntheir Grandfather Dorrance. He took them into his home on Fifty-eighth\nStreet, and being a man of ample means, he brought them up in a\ngenerous, lavish way. The little Dorrances led a happy life, free from\ncare or bothers of any sort, until when Dorothy was fourteen,\nGrandfather Dorrance died.\n\nHis wife knew nothing of his business affairs, and placidly supposed\nthere was no reason why she should not continue to live with the\nchildren, in the ways to which they had so long been accustomed.\n\nBut all too soon she learned that years of expensive living had made\ndecided inroads upon Mr. Dorrance's fortune, and that for the future her\nmeans would be sadly limited.\n\nMrs. Dorrance was a frail old lady, entirely unused to responsibilities\nof any kind; her husband had always carefully shielded her from all\ntroubles or annoyances, and now, aside from her deep grief at his death,\nshe was forced suddenly to face her changed circumstances and the\nresponsibility of her four grandchildren.\n\nShe was crushed and bewildered by the situation, and had it not been for\nthe advice and kind assistance of her lawyer, Mr. Lloyd, she would not\nhave known which way to turn.\n\nDorothy, too, though only fourteen years old, proved to be a staunch\nlittle helper. She was brave and plucky, and showed a courage and\ncapability that astonished all who knew her.\n\nAfter Mr. Dorrance's affairs were settled up, it was discovered that the\nfamily could not remain in the home. Although the house was free of\nincumbrance, yet there was no money with which to pay taxes, or to pay\nthe household expenses, even if they lived on a more moderate scale.\nOnly a few years before his death, Mr. Dorrance had invested a large sum\nof money in a summer hotel property. This had not turned out\nadvantageously, and though Mrs. Dorrance could not understand all of the\nbusiness details, she finally became aware that she had but a net income\nof two thousand dollars to support herself and her grandchildren.\n\nHelpless and heart-broken as she was, she yet had a certain amount of\nindomitable pride, which though it might break, would never bend.\n\nIn her quiet, gentle way she accepted the situation, and endeavored to\nfind a suitable boarding-place that would come within her means. The big\nhouse had been rented to strangers, as Mr. Lloyd considered that a\nbetter investment than selling it. The furniture had been sold, except\na few choice personal belongings which had been stored away against\nbetter days.\n\nWith a cheerful placidity, which was but the reaction of her utter\nhelplessness, Mrs. Dorrance began her new life.\n\nThe children took the change more easily. Although they fretted and\nstormed more, yet that very fact gave a sort of outlet to their\ndisappointment, and, too, their youth allowed them to adapt themselves\nmore easily to the changed conditions.\n\nAnd had it been possible for them to have a home of their own, they\nwould perhaps have been as happy as in their grandfather's mansion.\n\nBut Mrs. Dorrance well knew her own limitations, and realized that at\nher age she could not take up the unaccustomed cares of housekeeping.\n\nAnd so they boarded; and it was unsatisfactory to all concerned;\nprincipally because children do not agree with boarding-houses and _vice\nversa_.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\"Well, there is one thing to look forward to,\" said Dorothy, in her\ncheerful way; \"it's the first of May now. In a month, school will be\nover for this term, and then we can go to the seashore or the country,\nand get away from Mrs. Cooper's for the summer, anyhow.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" exclaimed Lilian, \"won't it be fun! I vote for the country this\nyear. What do you say, Leicester?\"\n\nThe twins, though possessing strong individual opinions, usually\nreferred all questions to each other, though this by no means implied a\nchange of mind on the part of either.\n\n\"Country's all right,\" said Leicester, \"but I like mountains.\nMountainous country, you know; I don't mean Pike's Peak or Mount\nWashington.\"\n\n\"I like the seashore,\" said Fairy. \"'Course you needn't go there just\n'cause I like it,--but I do think it's awful nice. There's the water you\nknow, and the big waves come in all tumble-bumble,--oh, it's beautiful\nto see them! And if I could have a new bathing-suit trimmed with red\nbraid like Gladys Miller's, I do think----\"\n\n\"Wait a minute, Fairy,\" said her grandmother; \"you're doing your\nthinking too soon. I'm sorry, children, more sorry than I can tell you,\nbut I don't see how we can go away this summer, to the mountains or\nseashore or anywhere else.\"\n\n\"Oh, grannymother!\" cried Dorothy in dismay; \"you don't mean we must\nstay in the city all summer!\"\n\n\"I'm afraid so, my dear. I can't see any hope for anything else.\"\n\n\"But grandma, we went last year, and we stayed all summer, and we had a\nlovely time.\" This from Lilian, whose brown eyes were already filling\nwith tears.\n\n\"In the city! all summer! well, I just guess _not_!\" shouted Leicester.\n\"I'm going off of Manhattan Island, if I have to go as a tramp.\"\n\n\"Tramping isn't so bad,\" said Lilian, brightening up; \"we could carry\nour things in handkerchiefs slung on sticks over our shoulders.\"\n\n\"But grannymother couldn't tramp,\" said Fairy.\n\n \"The streets will be broad and the lanes will be narrow,\n So we'll have to take grannymother in a wheel-barrow,\"\n\nchanted Dorothy. \"But tell us truly, granny, dear, why can't we go\naway?\"\n\nGrandmother Dorrance looked sad, but her face wore that air of placid\ndetermination which the children had come to look upon as indicative of\nfinal and unalterable decision.\n\n\"This last winter,\" she said, \"was much more expensive than the winter\nbefore. There was the doctor and the nurse, when Fairy was ill; we are\npaying a little more board here than we did at Mrs. Watson's; and then,\nsomehow, your clothes seem to cost more every year. I don't know how it\nis, I'm sure,\" and the sweet old face assumed the worried look that\nalways pained Dorothy's heart, \"but somehow there isn't any money left\nfor a summer trip.\"\n\n\"But grandma,\" said Leicester, with a great desire to be businesslike,\n\"can't we find a place to board in the country, for just the same price\nas we pay here?\"\n\n\"No, it always costs a little more per week at any summer place than in\nthe city. And that is not all; there are the traveling expenses, and\nyou'd all need new summer clothes, and there are many extra expenses,\nsuch as laundry work, and things that you children know nothing about.\"\n\nDorothy sat thinking. She had closed her French book and sat with her\nelbows on the table in front of her, and her chin in her hands. Dorothy\nDorrance was a very pretty girl, although it had never occurred to her\nto think so. She had dark eyes like her father's, but had inherited her\nmother's blonde hair. Not golden, but a light golden-brown, which fell\ninto soft shining curls which tossed about her temples, and escaped from\nthe thick twist at the back of her head. She had a sunshiny smile, which\nwas almost always visible, for Dorothy was light-hearted and of a merry\nnature. She was an all-round capable girl, and could turn her hand to\nalmost anything she undertook. She had a capable mind too, and often\nastonished her grandmother by her intelligent grasp of business matters\nor financial problems. Indeed, Dorothy at sixteen had a far more\npractical knowledge of the ways and means of existence than Mrs.\nDorrance at seventy.\n\n\"Grandmother,\" she said at last, after she had sat for some minutes\nstaring straight ahead of her, and looking, as Leicester said, \"almost\nas if she were really thinking.\" \"Grandmother, I think we are old enough\nnow,--at any rate I am,--to know something about our income. How much\nmoney do we have a year?\"\n\n\"That's easily told, my child; since your grandfather's death we have\nvery little. I own the house on Fifty-eighth Street, but from the rent\nof that I have to pay taxes and repairs. Of course Mr. Lloyd attends to\nall these matters, and his judgment is always right, but I can't help\nthinking there is very little profit in that house.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't it be better to sell that house, and invest the money in some\nother way?\" said Dorothy, straightforwardly.\n\n\"Mr. Lloyd says not, dearie, and of course he knows. Then besides that,\nI own the large hotel property which your grandfather bought a few\nyears before he died. But as I cannot rent it, and cannot sell it, it is\nnot only no source of income to me, but it is a great expense.\"\n\n\"Oh, 'Our Domain' up in the mountains,\" said Dorothy.\n\n\"Yes, 'Our Domain'; but I wish it were the Domain of somebody else,\"\nsaid her grandmother.\n\nThis hotel property had always been called \"Our Domain,\" by the family\nand when Mr. Dorrance was alive, had been looked upon as a sort of a\njoke, but the present view of the situation did not seem at all\nhumorous.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said Leicester, who was always hopeful, \"I think it's very\nnice to own a Domain. It makes us seem like landed proprietors, and some\nday, who knows, it may prove valuable.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nDOROTHY'S PLAN\n\n\nOne afternoon, about a week later, the children were again in their\ngrandmother's room waiting for dinner-time.\n\nTo be exact, they weren't in the room, but were literally half in and\nhalf out. For Mrs. Dorrance's room had two front windows, and two\nchildren were hanging out of each, in a precarious and really dangerous\nway.\n\nThe twins, in one window, were vying with each other as to which could\nlean out farthest, without falling out; and in the other window Dorothy\nwas leaning out as far as possible, and at the same time trying to keep\na very excited Fairy from pitching headlong to the street.\n\nThe simple explanation of this acrobatic performance is, that they were\nlooking for the postman. Not that they really thought he would come any\nsooner for their endangering their lives, but each young Dorrance\nconsidered it of the highest importance to catch the first glimpse of\nhim.\n\n\"Oh, dear, do you suppose the house is sold?\" said Lilian, for the\ndozenth time.\n\n\"Hi!\" screamed Dorothy; \"there he is! we'll soon know now.\"\n\nDorothy having won the game, they all tumbled into the room again, and\nLeicester started down-stairs for the mail.\n\n\"Gently, my boy, gently,\" warned his grandmother. \"Don't go down\nwhooping like a wild Indian.\"\n\nLeicester assumed a sudden air of decorum, and disappeared; while the\ngirls clustered around their grandmother, all talking at once.\n\n\"What do you think, grandmother?\" cried Dorothy, \"guess,--which way do\nyou guess?\"\n\n\"I guess, no,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, who was used to guessing games.\n\n\"I guess, _yes_!\" shouted Lilian; \"of course it's sold! and we'll have\nlots of money and we'll go to Europe, and Africa, and Chicago, and\neverywhere!\"\n\n\"And over to Brooklyn,\" chimed in Fairy; \"I do want to go to Brooklyn,\n'cause I've never been there and Gladys Miller says it's awful funny,\nand besides----\"\n\n\"A letter! here's a letter,\" cried Leicester, bouncing into the room;\n\"open it, open it quick, granny dear!\"\n\n\"I can't,\" said the old lady, helplessly; \"you children make such a\nnoise, I'm all bewildered. Open it, Dorothy, and read it aloud; and the\nrest of you, do try to keep still.\"\n\nEagerly, Dorothy tore open the letter, and began to read it:\n\n MRS. ELIZABETH DORRANCE:\n\n _Dear Madam_:--I had a final interview to-day with Mr. Ware. As you\n know, he had about concluded to buy your hotel, but he has been\n making inquiries concerning it, and has learned that it has not\n been occupied for several years. He fears that he cannot make it\n pay as a business venture, and has therefore definitely decided not\n to buy it.\n\n I do not wish to discourage you, my dear madam, but it looks to me\n as if it would not be possible to sell the hotel this season, and\n indeed, I doubt if you can ever dispose of it to your satisfaction.\n The next best course, in my opinion, would be for you to allow it\n to be sold at auction. This plan would enable you to pay the back\n taxes now due, and relieve you of further obligations of the same\n sort,--though I fear there would be little or no margin of profit\n for you in this arrangement.\n\n However, should you think best to adopt this course, please advise\n me promptly, and I will take the necessary steps in the matter.\n\n I am, my dear madam,\n Respectfully yours,\n LEWIS H. LLOYD.\n\nAt the conclusion of this letter the four Dorrance children groaned in\nconcert. Their concerted groan was an old-established affair, and by\nreason of much practice they had brought it to a high state of\nperfection. It began with a low wail which deepened and strengthened\nthrough several bass notes, and then slid up to high C with a wild,\nfinal shriek. It was most effective as an expression of utter\nexasperation, but Mrs. Dorrance, though accustomed to it, lived in a\nstate of fear lest it might cause the landlady to request them to give\nup their rooms.\n\n\"Oh, dear,\" said Lilian, after the groan had subsided, \"I felt sure that\nWare man was going to take the old place. I think he's mean!\"\n\n\"I think Mr. Lloyd is mean,\" broke in Dorothy. \"I don't like him!\"\n\n\"It isn't his fault, my dear,\" said her grandmother. \"He has done all in\nhis power to sell the place, but it seems to be unsalable, except at\nauction. And that would probably mean that our financial affairs would\nbe in no better state than they are now.\"\n\n\"I'd like to see Our Domain,\" said Leicester, thoughtfully; \"what's it\nlike, grandmother?\"\n\n\"I don't know, dear; I've never seen it. Your grandfather never saw it\neither. He bought the property through an agent, merely as a\nspeculation.\"\n\n\"Ho!\" cried Leicester, \"the idea of owning a Domain that nobody has ever\nseen! why, perhaps there is nothing there at all, and so of course\nnobody will buy it.\"\n\n\"People!\" exclaimed Dorothy, suddenly, her eyes shining, and her whole\nair expressive of a wonderful discovery. And, too, when Dorothy said,\n\"People!\" in that tone of voice, the others had learned that she meant\nto announce one of her plans. As a rule, her plans were wild and\nimpracticable schemes, but they were always interesting to listen to.\n\n\"People, I'll tell you exactly what we'll do. Grandma says we can't\nafford any extra expense this summer. So,--we'll go and live in our\nDomain!\"\n\n\"Well, of all crazy things,\" said Lilian, in a disappointed tone. \"I\nthought you were going to say something nice.\"\n\n\"It _is_ nice,\" said Dorothy; \"you think it isn't, because you don't\nknow anything about it. I know all about it. Now listen and I'll tell\nyou.\"\n\n\"Know all about it!\" said Leicester; \"you don't even know where it is!\"\n\n\"Anybody can find that out,\" went on Dorothy; \"and then when we find\nout, all we have to do is to go there. And then we'll live in the house,\nno matter what it is. It's ours, and so we won't have to pay any rent,\nand we girls will do all the housework and cooking, and so it won't\ncost near as much as boarding. And the difference will pay our traveling\nexpenses to the Domain, wherever it is. And we won't need any new\nclothes to go to a place like that, and it will be perfectly lovely, as\ngood as a prairie or a Texas, or anything! Now then!\"\n\n\"Whew!\" exclaimed Leicester; \"I do believe you've struck it right this\ntime. It will be great! I'll do my share of the work,--it will be just\nlike camping out. What do you suppose the house is like?\"\n\n\"Isn't it lovely not to know!\" cried Lilian; \"everything about it will\nbe such a surprise. When can we go, grandmother?\"\n\n\"Oh, my dears, how you rattle on,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, half-laughing,\nand yet beginning to take an interest in Dorothy's plan.\n\nFairy was keeping up a running fire of conversation, but nobody paid any\nattention to her.\n\n\"Where is the place, grandmother?\" asked Dorothy, who was taking it all\na little more seriously than the others; \"you must know at least what\nstate it's in.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I know that. It's on the shore of Lake Ponetcong,--in the\nnorthern part of New Jersey.\"\n\n\"What a fearful name!\" cried Leicester; \"but I don't care if it's called\nAlibazan, so long as there's a lake there. You never told us about the\nlake before.\"\n\n\"A lake!\" said Lilian, with an ecstatic air; \"I shall just stay on that\nall the time. I shall have a rowboat and a sailboat and a canoe----\"\n\n\"And a cataraman,\" supplemented her brother; \"you can use the hotel for\na boathouse, Lilian, and we'll build a little cabin to live in.\"\n\n\"Don't go so fast, children,\" said Mrs. Dorrance; \"if you'll give me a\nminute to think, I'm not sure but I could see some sense in this\narrangement.\"\n\n\"Oh, granny, dear,\" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands beseechingly; \"do\ntake a minute to think. Take several minutes, and think hard, and see if\nyou can't think some sense into it.\"\n\n\"As you say,\" began Mrs. Dorrance, while the children were breathlessly\nquiet in their anxiety, \"the living expenses would be very much less\nthan in any boarding-house. And in a country-place like that, you would\nnot need elaborate clothes. But there are many things to be considered;\nyou see, I've no idea what the house is like, or in what condition we\nwould find it.\"\n\n\"Oh, never mind that,\" pleaded Dorothy; \"let's take our chances. That\nwill be the fun of it, to go there, not knowing what we're going to. And\nanyway, we'll have room enough.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, smiling; \"in a hotel you will probably have\nroom enough. But what do you mean by saying you can do the housework? In\nthe first place you're not strong enough, and secondly, you don't know\nhow.\"\n\n\"I'll do the work,\" said Fairy. \"I don't care if I am only twelve, I can\ncook; 'cause when I went to Gladys Miller's one day, she had a little\nstove and she showed me how. I'll do all the cooking, and you other\ngirls can do the domesticker work. Leicester can do all the man's work,\nand grannymother can be a Princess of high degree, and just sit and look\non. And then on some days----\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, we know how to work,\" interrupted Dorothy. It was always\nnecessary to interrupt Fairy if anybody wanted to say anything.\n\n\"And I won't mind how much I have to do, if we have some outdoors around\nus. Only think, it's May out of doors now, and here we have to stay shut\nup in this old boarding-house, same as in December.\"\n\n\"You may go out for a while if you care to, little girl,\" said\nLeicester, assuming a grown-up air.\n\n\"I don't want to go out on paved streets,\" said Dorothy; \"I want green\nfields and trees and cows.\"\n\n\"I want free life and I want fresh air,\" sang Leicester, \"and I do\nbelieve we are going to get it. Come, granny, speak the word,--say we\nmay go.\"\n\n\"I can't say, positively,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, \"until I write to Mr.\nLloyd and see what he thinks of it. If he agrees to the plan, I suppose\nwe might try it. But it is all so uncertain.\"\n\n\"Never mind the uncertainty,\" said Dorothy; \"just leave it all to me.\nNow see here, grandmother, for twelve years you've looked after us\nchildren, and taken care of us, and now, I think we're getting old\nenough to look after ourselves. Anyway, let us try it. Let us all go up\nto the Domain, and spend the summer there. We'll do the best we can, and\nif we fail it will be our own fault. You're not to have any\nresponsibility, you're just to be there as a kind of guardian angel and\ngeneral adviser. Nothing very dreadful can happen to us,--at least,\nnothing half so dreadful as staying in the city all summer. Now just\nwrite to Mr. Lloyd, and don't ask his opinion, but tell him you've\ndecided to do this, and just ask him how to get there.\"\n\n\"We can tell how to get there, ourselves,\" said Leicester; \"let's look\nit up on the map. Fairy, get the big atlas, will you?\"\n\nThough Fairy was always called upon to wait on the other children, it\nwas by no means an imposition, for the child was always dancing around\nthe room anyway, and dearly loved to do things for people.\n\nSoon three of the Dorrance children were gathered around the table\nstudying the map. Fairy, in order to see better, had climbed up on the\ntable, and was eagerly following with her tiny forefinger the track of\nLeicester's pencil.\n\n\"It isn't so very far, after all,\" he announced. \"It's just across the\nferry, and then up on the railroad till you get to it. It looks awfully\nnear. Oh, I wish we were going to start to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Why can't we?\" said Lilian, who always favored quick action.\n\n\"There's _no_ reason,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, smiling at the impetuous\nchildren; \"of course we can _just_ as well take the seven o'clock train\nto-morrow morning as not!\"\n\n\"Now you're teasing, grandma,\" said Lilian; \"truly, when can we go?\"\n\n\"Just the minute school closes,\" answered Dorothy. \"I suppose we must\nstay for that,--I must, anyway; but we could get off the last week in\nMay.\"\n\nHere the announcement of dinner put an end to their planning for the\npresent, but so gay of heart were they over their happy anticipations,\nthat for once they didn't mind the gloomy dining-room and their\nirritating fellow boarders.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE DEPARTURE\n\n\nAfter several interviews with Mr. Lloyd, and after discussing the matter\nwith several other friends whose advice she valued, Mrs. Dorrance\nconcluded that it was best to try Dorothy's plan. It did seem hard to\nkeep the children in the city all summer, and however the experiment\nmight result it could do no great harm in any way.\n\nThey were to start the last week in May, and though Mr. Lloyd had\noffered to go up with them, Grandma Dorrance had concluded that would\nnot be necessary.\n\nFor all Mrs. Dorrance's gentle, helpless manner, the fine old lady had a\ncertain reserve force, which often manifested itself in an unexpected\ndecision.\n\nLeicester, too, showed himself capable of rising to an emergency, and\nnow that there was occasion for him to be looked upon as the man of the\nfamily, he determined to play well the part. He suddenly seemed to be as\nold as Dorothy, and though he deferred to her judgment, he made many\ngood suggestions which she was glad to accept.\n\nIndeed, the thought more than once occurred to Grandma Dorrance that the\nexperiences of the coming summer would teach the children a great deal,\nand strengthen their characters in many ways, whatever else its results\nmight be.\n\nNot that the Dorrance children became sedate and responsible all at\nonce. By no means. Their discussions were quite as animated as formerly,\nif not more so; and as the time of departure drew nearer, they became so\nexcited and excitable that had they not been going away, there is a\npossibility that Mrs. Cooper might have invited them to do so.\n\nMany of their friends came to see them during their last few days in the\ncity, and nearly all brought them gifts or remembrances of some sort.\n\nGrandma Dorrance viewed with dismay the collection of souvenirs that the\nchildren planned to take with them. It was the live gifts that troubled\nher most, and she was finally obliged to stipulate that they should be\nallowed to carry only one pet each. So Dorothy took a dog, a large and\nbeautiful St. Bernard, which she had owned for some years. But as he was\neven less desirable in a boarding-house than children, they had been\nobliged to make his home with a friend who lived on Long Island. Dorothy\nhad been in the habit of visiting him frequently, and a great friendship\nexisted between them.\n\nThe twins chose a pair of rabbits, because they had never had any\nrabbits before, and as Leicester said, \"What's a Domain without\nrabbits?\"\n\nFairy hesitated long, between a kitten and a canary, but finally chose\nthe kitten, as being less trouble and more comfort; and the bird was\nabout to be returned to its donor. But Grandma Dorrance declared that\nshe too was entitled to a pet and would take the bird for hers,\nwhereupon Fairy was ecstatically happy.\n\n * * * * *\n\nIt was a difficult caravan to plan and to move, but one Monday morning\nthe departure was successfully accomplished.\n\nTwo carriages and a dray-load of trunks and boxes formed the procession.\n\nMrs. Dorrance had concluded that much of the necessary work of the\nhouse, especially at first, would be too hard for the girls; and had\ntherefore decided to take with them a strong young Irish girl to help.\n\nOne of the waitresses, who was about to leave Mrs. Cooper's service\nanyway, seemed just the right one. Her name was Tessie, and she was a\ndevoted friend of the young Dorrances. Her Irish sense of humor made her\ndelight in their pranks, and it was to the satisfaction of all that she\naccompanied the party.\n\nThey crossed the city without attracting attention, but the procession\nthat filed onto the ferry-boat could not long remain unnoticed.\n\nFairy persisted in dancing ahead, and then dancing back to know which\nway to go next. She carried her kitten in a basket, and talked to it\nincessantly through the slats. Lilian carried the bird-cage, and\nLeicester, a box containing the rabbits. Dorothy led her big dog by a\nleash, and as she had assumed a sudden dignity, born of the occasion,\nshe made with the magnificent and stately animal beside her, an\nimpressive picture. Tessie was entrusted with the care of Grandma\nDorrance; and this was a wise arrangement, for though accustomed to\ntraveling, Mrs. Dorrance was also accustomed to lean on some one else\nfor the responsibilities of the trip.\n\nDorothy saw this more plainly than ever during their journey, and\nresolved more strongly than ever that she would relieve her grandmother\nof all possible care, and be a real help and support to her.\n\nIt was just as she reached this decision that Fairy lifted the lid of\nher basket and peeped in to talk to the kitten. But she opened the lid a\ntrifle too wide and the frightened kitten jumped out and ran to the edge\nof the deck, where the poor little thing sat quivering, and shivering,\nand apparently just about to tumble into the water.\n\nInvoluntarily the four Dorrances gave one of their best concerted\ngroans. The low moaning notes and the final shriek roused Dare, the\ngreat dog, to a sudden wild excitement. Breaking away from Dorothy's\nhold, he flew after the tiny Maltese kitten, and taking her head in his\nmouth, rescued her from imminent peril.\n\nBut Fairy, not appreciating that it was a rescue, looked upon it as a\nmassacre, and began to howl piteously. Whereupon Dare deposited the\nsquirming kitten at Fairy's feet, and added his bark, which was no faint\none, to the general pandemonium.\n\nAll of which so disturbed poor Mrs. Dorrance, that she was glad to have\nTessie lead her into the cabin, and there make her as comfortable as\npossible with a pillow and some smelling-salts.\n\nMeantime peace and quiet had been restored to the party on deck, and\nthey were waving joyful farewells to the tall buildings on Manhattan\nIsland.\n\n\"There's the old Flatiron,\" cried Leicester; \"good-bye, old Flatiron!\nhope I won't see you again for a long while.\"\n\n\"There's the new Flatiron too,\" cried Lilian. \"I don't want to see that\nagain for ever so long, either.\"\n\n\"You'll see flatirons enough, my lady,\" said Dorothy, \"when you find\nyourself doing the laundry work for a large and able-bodied family.\"\n\n\"I won't have to do that, will I?\" cried Lilian, aghast; \"nobody told me\nthat!\"\n\n\"Well, we needn't wash the clothes,\" said Dorothy; \"but likely we'll\nhave to help iron; that is, if we wear any white dresses.\"\n\n\"I'll promise not to wear any white dresses,\" said Leicester.\n\n\"I don't care what I wear, if we just once get into the country,\" said\nLilian. \"Oh Dorothy, what _do_ you suppose it will be like?\"\n\n\"Just like Mrs. Cooper's,\" said Dorothy, smiling.\n\n\"Well it can't be like that,\" said Lilian; \"and so I don't care what it\nis.\"\n\nAnother excitement came when they were all getting packed into the\ntrain. Dare had to travel in the baggage-car, of which he expressed his\ndisapproval by long and continuous growlings. The rabbits were put\nthere, too, but they made less fuss about it.\n\nThe bird and the kitten were allowed in the car with the children, and\nthis arrangement added to the general gayety.\n\nAlthough Mrs. Dorrance naturally considered herself in charge of the\nexpedition, and though Dorothy felt sure she was, and though Leicester\nhoped he might be, yet it was really quick-witted Tessie who looked\nafter things and kept matters straight.\n\nThe ride through northern New Jersey was not picturesque, and as there\nwas very little to look at from the windows, the four soon returned to\ntheir favorite game of guessing what the new home would be like.\n\n\"What shall we call it?\" asked Leicester; \"it ought to have a name.\"\n\n\"And a nice one, too,\" said Dorothy; \"for, do you know, I think we shall\nlive there always.\"\n\n\"Wait 'til you see it,\" said Lilian; \"we may not even want to stay over\nnight.\"\n\n\"We couldn't stay always,\" said Fairy; \"how would we go to school?\"\n\n\"I suppose we couldn't,\" said Dorothy; \"but after we all get through\nschool, then we can; and it will be lovely to have a home of our own,\nso let's get a good name for it.\"\n\n\"Why not the Domain?\" said Leicester. \"That's what we've always called\nit, and so it sounds natural.\"\n\n\"That isn't enough by itself,\" said Dorothy. \"How do you like the\nDorrance Domain?\"\n\nThey all liked this, and so The Dorrance Domain was decided upon, and\nthey all rushed to tell grandma the name of her new home.\n\nIt was noon when the train reached the Ponetcong Station. Here they all\nbundled out, bag and baggage, children and animals. But as the boat, in\nwhich they were to continue their journey did not leave until one\no'clock, there was ample time to get some luncheon,--which more than\npleased the four hungry Dorrances. Upon inquiry, they were directed to a\nsmall country hotel and soon found themselves confronted with many small\nportions of not over-attractive looking viands.\n\nBut for once, the children cared little about what they ate or how it\nwas served, so eager were they at the prospect of soon reaching their\nnew home.\n\n\"What do you suppose it will be like?\" said Lilian, quite as if she were\npropounding a brand-new conundrum.\n\n\"I've s'posed everything I can possibly think of,\" said Leicester; \"but\nI'm willing to guess again if you want me to.\"\n\n\"It isn't worth while guessing much more,\" said Dorothy; \"for very soon\nwe will _know_. Now, Lilian, you and Fairy stay here with grandma, and\nLeicester and I will go over to that little store across the street and\nbuy some things to take with us for supper to-night. Tessie may go too,\nto help us carry them.\"\n\nBut this plan was far from acceptable.\n\n\"That isn't fair!\" cried Lilian; \"buying things for our own home is the\nmost fun yet, and I think we all ought to go together.\"\n\n\"So do I,\" said Fairy. \"Let Tessie stay with grandma, and us four will\ngo to purchase the eatabubbles.\"\n\nFairy did not stutter, but, when excited, she was apt to put extra\nsyllables in her words.\n\n\"Come on, then,\" said Dorothy, and with Dare bounding beside them, the\nfour ran across the road to the little grocery shop.\n\n\"Let's be very sensible,\" said Dorothy, \"and get just the right things.\nYou know young housekeepers always do ridiculous things when they go to\nbuy provisions. Now what do we need most?\"\n\n\"Bread,\" said the twins together, and surely nobody could have\ncriticised their suggestion as ridiculous.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dorothy, and then turning to the grocer, she said politely,\n\"Have you any bread?\"\n\n\"Yes, miss,\" replied the grocer, staring in amazement at the four\nexcited children; \"what kind?\"\n\n\"Why, just bread,\" said Dorothy; \"fresh bread, you know. Is there more\nthan one kind?\"\n\n\"Yes, miss. Square loaf, long loaf, twist loaf and raisin bread.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" exclaimed Dorothy, appalled by this superabundant variety.\n\nBut Leicester came to the rescue. \"Raisin bread,\" said he; \"that's the\nkind. And then we want some butter, if you please.\"\n\n\"Print, pat or tub?\"\n\n\"Oh, not a whole tub full,\" said Dorothy, diligently trying to be\nsensible; \"we couldn't carry a tub. I think we'll take a--a print.\"\n\n\"Yes, miss; anything else?\"\n\nThe weight of responsibility was so great, that no one spoke for a\nmoment, and then Fairy, in a burst of confidence began:\n\n\"You see, mister, we've never bought anything before; we've just eaten\nother people's things; but now we've got a home of our own, a really\ntruly home, and these things are to eat in it. So of course you see we\nhave to be very careful what we buy. We're trying very hard to be\nsensible housekeepers, 'cause my sister says we must, and she knows\neverything in the world. And so if you could 'vise us a little, we'd\nknow better 'bout selectioning.\"\n\nAfter this speech, a few questions from the grocer resulted in a frank\nand straightforward statement of the case by Dorothy, and then a\njudicious selection was made of immediate necessities for the commissary\ndepartment of The Dorrance Domain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE MAMIE MEAD\n\n\nAs the man of the family and courier of the expedition, Leicester had\nassumed an air of importance, and looked after the baggage checks,\ntickets and time-tables with an effect of official guardianship.\n\n\"Why, it's a steamboat!\" exclaimed Fairy, as a diminutive steamer came\npuffing up to the dock. \"I thought it would be a canal-boat.\"\n\n\"People don't travel to a Domain in a canal-boat, my child,\" said\nLeicester, instructively.\n\n\"But you said we'd go on the canal,\" insisted Fairy; \"and I want to see\nwhat a canal is like. There is one in my geography----\"\n\n\"Skip aboard, kidlums, and you'll soon see what a canal is like,\" said\nLeicester, who was marshaling his party over the gangplank.\n\nThe _Mamie Mead_ was the very smallest steamboat the children had ever\nseen, and it seemed like playing house to establish themselves on its\ntiny deck. Dare seemed to find it inadequate to his ideas of proportion,\nand he stalked around, knocking over chairs and camp-stools with a fine\nair of indifference.\n\nGrandma Dorrance, who by this time was rather tired by the journey, was\nmade as comfortable as possible, and then the children prepared to enjoy\nthe excitements of their first trip on a canal.\n\nThe smoothness of the water amazed them all, and they wondered why it\nwasn't more like a river.\n\nThe locks, especially, aroused awe and admiration.\n\nBy the time they went through the first gate they had made the\nacquaintance of the captain, and could watch the performance more\nintelligently. It seemed nothing short of magic to watch the great gates\nslowly close, and then to feel their own boat rising slowly but\nsteadily, as the water rushed in from the upper sluice.\n\n\"It's just like Noah and the Ark,\" exclaimed Fairy, \"when the floods\nmade them go up and up.\"\n\n\"It's exactly like that,\" agreed Dorothy, as the waters kept rising;\n\"and we've nearly as many animals on board as he had.\"\n\nAll too soon they had risen to the level of the lake, and another pair\nof great gates swung open to let them through.\n\n\"Are we going to stay on top?\" asked Fairy; \"or must we go down again?\"\n\n\"You'll stay on top this time, little missie,\" said good-natured old\nCaptain Kane, smiling at Fairy. \"This boat ain't no submarine to dive\ndown into the lake.\"\n\n\"But you dived up into the lake,\" insisted Fairy.\n\n\"That was the only way to get here, miss. But any day you would like to\ngo back and dive down, here's the man that will take you. The _Mamie\nMead_ is always glad of passengers. She don't get none too many\nnowadays.\"\n\n\"Why doesn't she?\" asked Leicester, with interest.\n\n\"Well, you see, sir, since the hotel's been empty, they ain't no call\nfor _Mamie_ much. So whenever you kids wants a free ride, just come\ndown to the dock and wave something. If so be's I'm goin' by, I'll stop\nand take you on. Is the place you're goin' near the hotel?\"\n\n\"Near the hotel!\" cried Dorothy; \"why we're going _to_ the hotel.\"\n\n\"You can't. 'Tain't open.\"\n\n\"I know it,\" said Dorothy; \"but it will be when we get there. We have\nall the keys.\"\n\n\"For the land's sake! And what are you goin' to do there?\"\n\n\"We're going to live there,\" exclaimed Leicester; \"we own the\nplace,--that is, my grandmother does.\"\n\n\"Own it? Own the Dorrance place?\"\n\n\"Yes; we're all Dorrances.\"\n\n\"For the land's sake! Well, when you want to go down to the station for\nanything, this here boat's at your service,--that is, if I'm up this\nway.\"\n\n\"Do you come up this way often?\" asked Dorothy, who appreciated the\npossible value of this offer.\n\n\"I allus comes once a week, miss. I goes over to Dolan's Point every\nSaturday. Will you be here till Saturday?\"\n\n\"Saturday! Why we're going to stay all summer.\"\n\n\"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but I don't think as how you will. Just the\nfew of you shakin' around in that big hotel! It's ridikilus!\"\n\n\"Ridiculous or not, we're going to do it,\" said Leicester, stoutly; \"but\nwe thank you for your offer, Captain Kane, and very likely we'll be glad\nto accept it.\"\n\n\"Well, there's your home,\" said Captain Kane, as a large white building\nbegan to be visible through the trees.\n\nWithout a word, the Dorrance children looked in the direction the\ncaptain indicated.\n\nHigh up on the sloping shore of the lake, they saw a great house which\nseemed to be an interminable length of tall, white columns supporting\ntiers of verandas.\n\n\"Oh!\" exclaimed Dorothy, \"that can't be it! that great, big place!\"\n\n\"It looks like the Pantheon,\" said Lilian.\n\n\"You mean the Parthenon,\" said Leicester; \"but I never can tell them\napart, myself. Anyway, if that's the Dorrance Domain, it's all right!\nWhat do you think, Fairy?\"\n\nFairy looked at the big hotel, and then said thoughtfully, \"I guess\nwe'll have room enough.\"\n\n\"I guess we will,\" cried Dorothy, laughing; and then they all ran to\nGrandma Dorrance, to show her the wonderful sight.\n\nThe good lady was also astounded at the enormous size of the hotel, and\ngreatly impressed with the beauty of the scene. It was about three\no'clock, on a lovely May afternoon, and the hotel, which faced the west,\ngleamed among trees which shaded from the palest spring tints to the\ndark evergreens. It was at the top of a high , but behind it was a\nbackground of other hills, and in the distance, mountains.\n\n\"_Aren't_ you glad we came? Oh, grannymother, _aren't_ you glad we\ncame?\" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands in ecstasy.\n\n\"Indeed I am, dear; but I had no idea it was such an immense house. How\ncan we take care of it?\"\n\n\"That question will come later,\" said Leicester; \"the thing is now, how\nshall we get to it. How _do_ people get to it, Captain Kane?\"\n\n\"Steps,\" answered the captain, laconically.\n\n\"Up from the dock?\"\n\n\"Yep; a hundred and forty of 'em.\"\n\n\"Oh, how can grandmother climb all those?\"\n\n\"Settin'-places all the way along,\" suggested the captain, cheerfully.\n\n\"Oh, you mean landing-places on the stair-way?\"\n\n\"Yep; so folks can rest. I guess your grandma'll get up all right; but\nwhat about all your trunks and things?\"\n\n\"Why I don't know,\" said Leicester, suddenly losing his air of capable\nimportance.\n\n\"Well, there's old Hickox; you might get him.\"\n\n\"Where can we find Mr. Hickox?\"\n\n\"He's most generally settin' around the dock. Favorite restin'-place of\nhis. Think I can see him there now.\"\n\nAfter a few moments more the _Mamie Mead_ bumped against the dock.\n\n\"Our own dock!\" cried Dorothy; \"oh, isn't it gorgeous!\"\n\nProbably such an excited crowd had never before landed from the _Mamie\nMead_. The children all talked at once; Grandma Dorrance seemed\nrejuvenated by the happy occasion; Tessie was speechless with delight;\nDare gave short, sharp barks expressive of deep satisfaction and the\ncanary bird burst into his most jubilant song. Doubtless the kitten was\npurring contentedly, if not audibly.\n\nThe trunks and other luggage were put out on the dock, and Mr. Hickox\nsauntered up and viewed them with an air of great interest.\n\n\"I guess this is where I come in handy,\" he said, with a broad smile and\na deferential bob of his head that somehow seemed to serve as a general\nintroduction all around.\n\nMr. Hickox was a strange looking man. He was very tall, indeed, by far\nthe tallest man the children had ever seen; and he was also very thin.\nOr perhaps _lean_ is a more expressive word to describe Mr. Hickox, for\nhe gave no impression of ill-health, or emaciation, but rather the\nleanness of muscular strength. His brown hair and side-whiskers were\ntouched with gray, and his tanned face was wrinkled, but he did not seem\nlike an old man. His blue eyes twinkled with good-humor, and his voice\nwas delightfully kind.\n\nInstinctively the Dorrance children felt that they had found a friend in\nthis strange man, and they were grateful.\n\n\"Could you tell us, sir,\" said Leicester, \"how we are going to get these\ntrunks and things up to the hotel?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, I can tell you that. I'm going to lug them up myself.\"\n\n\"What, carry them?\" said Leicester, in surprise.\n\n\"Well, no; not carry them,--not exactly carry them. You see I've got a\nlittle contraption of my own; a sort of cart or dray, and I'll just put\nall that duffle of yours into it, and it'll be up to the top before\nyou're there yourselves.\"\n\n\"You don't drag it up the stairs!\"\n\n\"No, I go up the back way,--a roundabout, winding path of my own. But\ndon't you worry,--don't worry,--Hickox'll look after things. It'll be\nall right.\"\n\nAlthough Mr. Hickox spoke in short staccato jerks, his remarks seemed to\ncarry authority; and nodding his head in a manner peculiar to himself,\nhe went off after his cart.\n\n\"He's all right, he is,\" declared Captain Kane; \"but his old woman, she\nisn't so right. But never mind 'bout that. You'll see old Mrs. Hickox\nsooner or later and then you can size her up for yourself. Well, me and\n_Mamie_ must be gettin' along. You all jest stay here till Hickox comes\nback, and he'll get you up the hill all right.\"\n\nAs Captain Kane went away the children could hear him chuckling to\nhimself, and murmuring, \"Goin' to live in the hotel! well, well!\"\n\nAs Grandma Dorrance would want frequent rests by the way, Dorothy\nproposed that she should start on up the steps with Tessie, while the\nrest waited for Mr. Hickox.\n\nThat long specimen of humanity soon came briskly along, trundling a\nqueer sort of push-cart, which it was quite evident was of home\nmanufacture.\n\n\"I made it myself,\" he declared, pointing with pride to the ungainly\nvehicle. \"I was surprised that I could do it,\" he added modestly; \"Mrs.\nHickox, she was surprised, too. But she generally is surprised. You\ndon't know my wife, do you?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dorothy, politely; \"we haven't that pleasure.\"\n\n\"H'm,\" said Mr. Hickox, rubbing down his side-whiskers; \"she's a nice\nwoman,--a very nice woman, but you must take her easy. Yes, when you\nmeet her, you must certainly take her easy. She doesn't like to be\nsurprised.\"\n\n\"Do you think she will be surprised at us?\" asked Lilian, who was well\naware that many people thought the Dorrances surprising.\n\n\"Yes; I think she will. I certainly think she will. Why, to tell the\ntruth, I'm some surprised at you myself,--and I ain't half so easy\nsurprised as Mrs. Hickox.\"\n\nAs he talked, Mr. Hickox was bundling the luggage into his cart. He\npicked up trunks and boxes as if they weighed next to nothing, and\ndeposited them neatly and compactly in his queer vehicle.\n\n\"Any of the live stock to go?\" he inquired.\n\n\"No,\" said Dorothy, \"we'll take the animals; unless,--yes, you might\ntake the rabbits; their cage is so heavy.\"\n\n\"Yes, do,\" said Leicester; \"then I'll carry the bird-cage, and you girls\ncan manage the dog and the kitten.\"\n\nSo everything else was put into the dray, even the provisions they had\nbought at the grocery shop, and the children watched with astonishment,\nas Mr. Hickox started off, easily pushing the load along a winding path.\n\n\"He's the strongest man I ever saw,\" exclaimed Leicester; \"and I'd like\nto go along with him to see how he does it.\"\n\n\"No, you come with us,\" said Fairy, dancing around, and clasping her\nbrother's hand; \"come on; now we're going up a million steps and then we\nwill come to our own Domain.\"\n\nClimbing the steps was anything but a work of toil, for continually new\ndelights met their eyes, and they paused often to exclaim and comment.\n\nAbout half-way up they found grandma and Tessie sitting on one of the\nsmall landings, waiting for them.\n\n\"Now we'll go the rest of the way together,\" said Dorothy, \"for we must\nall see our Domain at the same time. Go as slowly as you like,\ngrandmother, we're in no hurry.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE DORRANCE DOMAIN\n\n\nAlternately resting and climbing, at last they reached the top, and for\nthe first time had a full view of the Dorrance Domain.\n\n\"Oh,\" said Dorothy in an awe-struck whisper, \"that's our home! All of\nit!\"\n\nLeicester, from sheer lack of words to express his feelings, turned\ndouble somersaults on the grass, while Fairy danced around in her usual\nflutterbudget way, singing at the top of her voice.\n\nLilian, the practical, after one look at the great building, said\nexcitedly, \"Grandmother, where are the keys, quick?\"\n\nThe hotel itself was a white frame building, about two hundred feet long\nand three stories high. Huge pillars supported verandas that ran all\naround the house on each story. Broad steps led up to the main\nentrance, and at one corner was a large tower which rose for several\nstories above the main part of the house.\n\nAlthough the whole place had a deserted aspect,--the shutters were all\nclosed, and the lawns uncared for,--yet it did not seem out of repair,\nor uninhabitable. Indeed, the apparent care with which it had been\nclosed up and made secure was reassuring in itself, and the children\neagerly followed Lilian who had gained possession of the front door key.\n\nWith little difficulty they succeeded in unfastening the great front\ndoors and threw them wide open to admit the May sunshine.\n\nThey found themselves at first in a large hall which ran straight\nthrough the house. It was furnished in red, with a velvet carpet and\nsatin brocade sofas, which seemed to the Dorrances quite the most\nbeautiful furnishings they had ever looked upon.\n\nArched off from this hall was a good-sized room, which Leicester\ndeclared to be the office, and as soon as the windows of that could be\nthrown open, the desks and safe and other office furniture proved he was\nright. Opening a wicket door, he flew in behind the great desk, and\nthrowing open a large book which was there, he turned it around towards\nDorothy with a flourish, and asked her to register.\n\n\"Oh,\" she cried, wild with excitement, \"it's just like the Sleeping\nBeauty's palace. Everything is just as they went off and left it. Who\nregistered last, Leicester?\"\n\n\"The last is Mr. Henry Sinclair, who arrived here in July, summer before\nlast.\"\n\n\"And nobody's been here since!\" exclaimed Lilian; \"just think of it! It\nseems as if we ought to register.\"\n\n\"You may if you like,\" said Leicester; \"it's our register, you know.\"\n\nBut the ink was all dried up, and the pens all rusty, so they left the\noffice and went to make further explorations.\n\nAcross the hall from the office was the great parlor. Many hands make\nlight work at opening windows, and in a jiffy the parlor was flooded\nwith sunshine.\n\nThen there were more exclamations of delight, for the parlor\nappointments were truly palatial. Gorgeous frescoes and wall\ndecorations, mirrors in heavily gilded frames, brocaded hangings, ornate\nfurniture, and a wonderful crystal chandelier made a general effect that\ncontrasted most pleasurably with Mrs. Cooper's unpretentious\ndrawing-room.\n\nEven a piano was there, and flinging it open, Dorothy struck up a brisk\ntwo-step, and in a moment the twins were dancing up and down the long\nroom, while Fairy, who had been dancing all the time, simply kept on.\n\nGrandma Dorrance sank onto a sofa and watched her happy grandchildren,\nno less happy herself.\n\nIt was a daring experiment, and she did not know how it would turn out,\nbut she was glad that at last she was able to give the children, for a\ntime at least, that desire of their heart,--a home in the country.\n\nAfter the grand parlor, and several smaller reception rooms, all equally\nattractive, they went back across the hall, and through the office to\ninvestigate the other side of the house. Here they found the\ndining-rooms. One immense one, containing a perfect forest of tables\nand chairs, and two smaller ones.\n\nOne of the smaller ones which overlooked the lake, Dorothy declared\nshould be their family dining-room.\n\n\"There's more room in the big dining-room,\" said Lilian, slyly.\n\n\"Yes, there is,\" said Dorothy; \"and I _do_ hate to be cramped. Perhaps\nwe had better use the big one, and each one have a whole table all to\nourselves.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Grandma Dorrance, \"we'll use the small one every day, and\nthen some time when we invite all Mrs. Cooper's family to visit us, we\ncan use the large one.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" groaned Lilian, \"don't mention Mrs. Cooper's dining-room while\nwe're in this one.\"\n\nAfter the dining-rooms came the kitchens, supplied with everything the\nmost exacting housekeeper could desire; but all on the large scale\nrequisite for a summer hotel.\n\n\"I should think _anybody_ could cook here,\" said Dorothy; \"and as I\npropose to do the cooking for the family, I'm glad everything is so\ncomplete and convenient.\"\n\n\"You never can cook up all these things,\" said Fairy, looking with awe\nat the rows of utensils; \"not even if we have seventeen meals a day.\"\n\n\"_Will_ you look at the dish towels!\" exclaimed Lilian, throwing open\nthe door of a cupboard, where hundreds of folded dish towels were\narranged in neat piles.\n\nAt this climax, Mrs. Dorrance sank down on a wooden settle that stood in\nthe kitchen, and clasping her hands, exclaimed, \"It's too much, girls,\nit's too big; we never can do anything with it.\"\n\n\"Now you mustn't look at it that way, granny, dear,\" said Dorothy,\nbrightly; \"this is our home; and you know, be it ever so humble, there's\nno place like home. And if a home and all its fixings are too big,\ninstead of too little, why, you'll have to manage it somehow just the\nsame. Of course, I'm overpowered too, at this enormous place, but I\nwon't own up to it! I will _never_ admit to _anybody_ that I think the\nrooms or the house unusually large. I _like_ a big house, and I like\nspacious rooms! I _hate_ to be cramped,--as possibly you may have heard\nme remark before.\"\n\n\"Good for you, Dot!\" cried Leicester. \"I won't be phased either. We're\nhere, and we're here to stay. We're not going to be scared off by a few\nsquare miles of red velvet carpet, and some sixty-foot mirrors!\"\n\n\"I think the place rather small, myself,\" said Lilian, who rarely\nallowed herself to be outdone in jesting; \"I confess _I_ have a little\nof that cramped feeling yet.\"\n\nAt this they all laughed, and went on with their tour of the house.\nMerely taking a peep into the numerous pantries, laundries, storerooms\nand servants' quarters, they concluded to go at once to inspect the\nbedrooms.\n\n\"Don't go up these stairs,\" said Leicester turning away from the side\nstaircase. \"Let's go back to the main hall, and go up the grand\nstaircase, as if we had just arrived, and were being shown to our\nrooms.\"\n\n\"Oh, _isn't_ it fun!\" cried Fairy, as she hopped along by her brother's\nside. \"I never had such a fun in my whole life! Wouldn't it be awful if\nwe were really guests instead of purporietors?\"\n\n\"_You_ wouldn't be a guest,\" said Leicester, teasingly; \"no\nwell-conducted summer hotel would take a flibbertigibbet like you to\nboard!\"\n\n\"Nobody would take us Dorrances to board anyway, if they could help it,\"\nsaid Fairy, complacently; \"we all know how obnoxiorous we are.\"\n\n\"I know,\" said Grandma Dorrance, sighing; \"and if we can only make a\nlittle corner of this big place habitable, I shall certainly feel a\ngreat relief in not being responsible for you children to any landlady.\"\n\n\"Oh, come now, granny, we're not so bad, are we?\" said Leicester,\npatting the old lady's cheek.\n\n\"You're not bad at all. You're the best children in the world. But just\nso sure as you get shut up in a boarding-house you get possessed of a\nspirit of mischief, and I never know what you are going to do next. But\nup here I don't _care_ what you do next.\"\n\nBy this time they had reached the entrance hall, and assuming the air\nof a proprietor, Leicester, with an elaborate flourish and a profound\nbow, said suavely:\n\n\"Ah, Mrs. Dorrance, I believe. Would you like to look at our rooms,\nmadam? We have some very fine suites on the second floor that I feel\nsure will please you. Are these your children, madam?\"\n\n\"We're her grandchildren,\" volunteered Fairy, anxious to be in the game.\n\n\"Incredible! Such a young and charming lady with grandchildren! Now I\nshould have said _you_ were the grandmother,\" with another elaborate bow\nto Fairy.\n\nLaughing at Leicester's nonsense, they all went up-stairs together, and\ndiscovered a perfect maze of bedrooms.\n\nScattering in different directions, the children opened door after door,\npulled up blinds, and flung open windows, and screamed to each other to\ncome and see their discoveries. Tessie followed the tribe around,\nwondering if she were really in fairyland. The unsophisticated Irish\ngirl had never seen a house like this before, and to think it belonged\nto the people with whom she was to live, suddenly filled her with a\ngreat awe of the Dorrance family.\n\n\"Do you like it, Tessie?\" asked Mrs. Dorrance, seeing the girl's amazed\nexpression.\n\n\"Oh, yis, mum! Shure, I niver saw anything so grand, mum. It's a castle,\nit is.\"\n\n\"That's right, Tessie,\" said Leicester; \"a castle is the same as a\ndomain. And all these millions of bedrooms are part of our Domain. Our\nvery own! Hooray for the Dorrance Domain!\"\n\nThe wild cheer that accompanied and followed Leicester's hurrah must\nhave been audible on the other side of Lake Ponetcong. At any rate it\nserved as a sort of escape-valve for their overflowing enthusiasm, which\notherwise must soon have gotten beyond their control.\n\n\"I think,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, \"that it would be wise for you each to\nselect the bedroom you prefer,--for to-night at least. If you choose to\nchange your minds to-morrow, I don't know of any one who will object.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Lilian, \"to think of changing your room in a hotel just as\noften as you like, and nobody caring a bit! I shall have a different one\nevery night.\"\n\n\"That won't be my plan,\" said her grandmother, laughing; \"I think I\nshall keep the one I'm in, for mine, and make no change.\"\n\nAs it was a large, pleasant, southwest room, with a delightful view of\nthe lake, it was thought to be just the one for grandma, and they all\nwillingly agreed.\n\n\"Do you suppose there are sheets and pillow-slips and things?\" asked\nDorothy, and a pell-mell rush of four explorers soon brought about the\ndiscovery of a wonderful linen room.\n\nGrandma and Tessie were called to look, and all exclaimed at the sight.\nIt was a large room with shelves on all four sides and the shelves were\npiled with neatly-folded clean linen,--sheets, counterpanes,\ntowels,--everything that was necessary.\n\n\"Whoever left this house last,\" said grandma, \"was a wonderful\nhousekeeper. I should like to see her and compliment her personally.\"\n\n\"Shure, it's wonderful, mum!\" said Tessie, still a little dazed by the\nsuccession of wonders.\n\n\"Well then, children,\" went on grandma, \"pick out your rooms, and Tessie\ncan make up your beds for you, and when Mr. Hickox brings the trunks,\nthey can be brought right up here.\"\n\n\"How clever you are, grannymother,\" cried Dorothy, kissing her. \"I said\nI'd direct the arrangements,--and yet I never once thought of all that.\"\n\n\"Never mind, dearie, we don't expect an old head to grow on young\nshoulders all at once. And besides, you'll have enough to do\ndown-stairs. Did I hear you say you're going to get supper? And is\nanybody going to build a fire in the kitchen?\"\n\n\"I'll build the fire,\" cried Leicester, \"just as soon as I select my\nroom from the hotel clerk.\"\n\nThe boy ran down the hall and in a few moments returned, saying that he\nhad made a selection, and would take the tower-room.\n\nOf course they all flew to see it, and found a large octagon-shaped\nroom with windows on five sides, leaving only enough wall space for the\nnecessary furniture. But it was a beautiful room, \"just like being\noutdoors,\" Leicester said, and they all applauded his choice.\n\nJust then the door-bell was heard to ring, and this gave the children a\nnew sensation.\n\n\"Our own door-bell!\" cried Dorothy; \"only to think of that! Tessie,\nplease go down to the door!\" and Tessie went, with the four Dorrances\nfollowing close behind her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nMR. HICKOX\n\n\nIt was Mr. Hickox who was at the door. By a winding path he had pushed\nhis cart full of luggage up the hill, and now expressed his willingness\nto deposit the goods where they belonged.\n\nThe big man seemed to think nothing of carrying the trunks, one after\nanother, up to the bedrooms; and meantime the children carried the\nprovisions to the kitchen.\n\nAlthough Dorothy was nominally housekeeper, and wanted to assume entire\ncharge of all household arrangements, Grandma Dorrance had a long and\nserious talk with Mr. Hickox regarding ways and means.\n\nIt was most satisfactory; for whenever any apparent difficulty arose,\nthe kind-hearted man summarily disposed of it by waving his hand and\nremarking: \"Don't worry. Hickox'll look after things. It'll be all\nright!\"\n\nSo convincing was his attitude that Mrs. Dorrance at last felt satisfied\nthat there were no serious obstacles in their path; and like the\nsensible lady she was, she determined to let Dorothy have full power and\nmanage her new home in any way she saw fit.\n\nDorothy's nature was, perhaps, a little over-confident. She was not\ninclined to hesitate at anything; indeed, the more difficult the\nundertaking, the greater her determination to succeed.\n\nAnd so, when Mrs. Dorrance informed Mr. Hickox that Miss Dorothy was the\nhousekeeper, and was in authority, Dorothy rose to the occasion and\nassumed at once a certain little air of dignity and responsibility that\nsat well upon her.\n\nShe, too, was encouraged by Mr. Hickox's continued assertions that it\nwould be all right.\n\nShe learned from him that the nearest place where they might buy\nprovisions was Woodville, where a certain Mr. Bill Hodges kept a store.\nHis wares included everything that a country store usually deals in,\n\"and Bill himself,\" said Mr. Hickox, \"is just the cleverest man in these\nparts.\"\n\n\"How do we get there?\" asked Leicester, who had declared his willingness\nto consider going to market as part of his share of the work.\n\n\"Well, there're several ways. Haven't got a horse, have you?\" Mr. Hickox\nsaid this casually, as if he thought Leicester might have one in his\npocket.\n\n\"No,\" said Leicester; \"we don't own a horse. Is it too far to walk?\"\n\n\"No; 'tain't any too much of a sprint for young legs like yours. It's\ntwo miles around by the road and over the bridge. But it's only a mile\nacross by the boat.\"\n\n\"But we haven't any boat.\"\n\n\"Haven't any boat! well I should say you had. Why there is half-a-dozen\nrowboats belongs to this hotel; and a catboat too, and a sneak-box,--my\nland! you've got everything but a steamboat.\"\n\n\"And Captain Kane said we could use his steamboat,\" cried Dorothy,\ngleefully; \"so we've really got a whole navy at our disposal!\"\n\n\"So you have, so you have,\" agreed Mr. Hickox, rubbing his long hands\ntogether, in a curious way he had; \"and don't you worry. Whenever you\nwant anything that you can't get with your navy, Hickox'll look after\nit. It'll be all right!\"\n\n\"Do you live near here, Mr. Hickox?\" asked Lilian.\n\n\"Well, yes, miss. Just a piece up the road. And if you want some nice\nfresh garden truck, now and then,--just now and then;--we haven't got\nenough to supply you regular.\"\n\n\"We'll be very glad to have it, whenever you can spare it,\" said\nDorothy; \"I'll send for it.\"\n\n\"Well, no, Miss Dorothy. I'd some rather you wouldn't send for it. You\nsee Mrs. Hickox she's apt to--to be surprised at anything like that.\"\n\n\"Oh, very well,\" said Dorothy; \"bring it whenever it's convenient. We're\nalways glad of fresh vegetables. And eggs,--do you have eggs?\"\n\n\"Now and again,--just now and again. But when we have them to spare I'll\nbring 'em. It'll be all right. Now I must jog along; Mrs. Hickox will be\nsurprised if I don't get home pretty soon.\"\n\n\"One thing more, Mr. Hickox,\" said Mrs. Dorrance. \"Are there ever any\nburglars or marauders around this neighborhood?\"\n\n\"Land, no, ma'm! Bless your heart, don't you worry a mite! Such a thing\nwas never heard of in these parts. Burglars! ho, ho, well I guess not!\nWhy I've never locked my front door in my life, and I never knew anybody\naround here that did.\"\n\nAfter Mr. Hickox's departure, Leicester observed thoughtfully, \"What a\nvery surprisable woman Mrs. Hickox seems to be.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" agreed Dorothy; \"I'm anxious to see her. I think I'd like to\nsurprise her a few times.\"\n\n\"Well, he's a nice man,\" said Lilian; \"I like him.\"\n\n\"Yes, he is nice,\" said Leicester; \"and isn't that jolly about the\nboats? I'm going right out to hunt them up.\"\n\n\"Hold on, my First Gold-Stick-In-Waiting,\" said Dorothy; \"I think you\npromised to make a kitchen fire.\"\n\n\"Sure enough, Major-domo,\" returned Leicester, gaily; \"I'll do that in a\njiffy. Where's the kindling-wood?\"\n\n\"Where's the kindling-wood, indeed,\" returned Dorothy; \"_you_'re to make\nthe fire, and you're also to make the kindling-wood, and the paper and\nthe matches! I'm not employing assistants who don't assist.\"\n\n\"All right, my lady. I'll make your fire, even if I have to split up\nthat big settle for fire-wood.\"\n\nWith a wild whoop, Leicester disappeared in the direction of the\nkitchen.\n\n\"Oh, grannymother,\" cried Dorothy, \"isn't it splendid that we can make\njust as much noise as we want to! Now you sit right here on the veranda,\nand enjoy the view; and don't you budge until you're called to supper.\"\nAnd with another war-whoop scarcely less noisy than her brother's,\nDorothy went dancing through the big rooms, followed by her two\nsisters.\n\nWhen she reached the kitchen, she found a fine fire blazing in the\nrange.\n\nLeicester sat on the settle, with his hands in his pockets, and wearing\na complacent air of achievement.\n\n\"Anything the matter with that fire?\" he inquired.\n\n\"How did you ever do it in such a minute?\" cried his twin, gazing\nadmiringly at her brother.\n\n\"Magic,\" said Leicester.\n\n\"Magic in the shape of Tessie,\" said Dorothy, laughing, as the\ngood-natured Irish girl appeared from the pantry.\n\n\"Right you are,\" said Leicester; \"that's Tessie's own fire. And she\ndidn't have to split up the furniture, for she says there's lots of wood\nand coal in the cellar.\"\n\n\"Well, did you ever!\" cried Dorothy; \"I wouldn't be a bit surprised to\nlearn that there was a gold mine in the parlor, or a pearl fishery up in\nthe tower.\"\n\n\"I'd rather learn that there is something to eat somewhere,\" said\nLeicester; \"I'm simply starving. What's the use of three sisters if\nthey can't get a fellow some supper?\"\n\n\"That's so,\" agreed Dorothy; \"and we all must go right to work. You\ncan't help with this part, Leicester. You skip away now, your turn will\ncome later. Now girls,\" she went on, as Leicester vanished, not without\nthe usual accompaniment of an ear-splitting yell, \"we're going to have\nan awful lot of fun; and we can make just as much noise and racket as we\nplease; but all the same there's a lot of work to be done, and we're\ngoing to do it, and do it properly. It's a great deal easier if we have\nsystem and method, and so we'll divide up the work and each of us must\ndo our own part, and do it thoroughly and promptly.\"\n\n\"Hear, hear!\" cried Lilian, who adored her older sister, and was more\nthan willing to obey her commands.\n\n\"What can I do?\" screamed Fairy, who was dancing round and round the\nkitchen, perching now on the window-seat, now on the table, and now on\nthe back or arm of the old settle.\n\n\"We must each have our definite work,\" went on Dorothy, who was herself\nsitting on the back of a chair with her feet on the wooden seat. \"Tessie\nwill have her share, but she can't do everything. So there's plenty for\nus to do. Grandma is not to do a thing, that's settled. If four women\nand a man can't take care of one dear old lady, it's high time they\nlearned how.\"\n\nAs the youngest of the four \"women\" was just then clambering up the\ncupboard shelves, and singing lustily at the top of her voice, some\npeople might have thought that the dear old lady in question had an\nuncertain outlook. But Dorothy was entirely undisturbed by the attitudes\nof her audience, and continued her discourse.\n\n\"I shall do the cooking,--that is, most of it. I'm a born cook, and I\nlove it; besides I want to learn, and so I'm going to try all sorts of\ndishes, and you children will have to eat them,--good or bad.\"\n\n\"I like to make cake and fancy desserts,\" said Lilian.\n\n\"All right, you can make them. And I'll make croquettes and omelets, and\nall sorts of lovely things, and Tessie can look after the boiling of\nthe potatoes and vegetables, and plain things like that. You haven't had\nmuch experience in cooking, have you, Tessie?\"\n\n\"No, Miss Dorothy; but I'm glad to learn, and I'll do just whatever you\ntell me.\"\n\n\"Fairy can set the table, and help with the dusting. We girls will each\ntake care of our own rooms, and Tessie can take care of Leicester's.\nI'll attend to grandma's room myself.\"\n\n\"Let me help with that,\" said Lilian.\n\n\"Yes, we'll all help; and we'll keep the parlors tidy, and Tessie can\nwash the dishes and look after the dining-room and kitchen. Leicester\ncan help with the out-of-door work; the grass ought to be mowed and the\npaths kept in order. But good gracious! none of this work is going to\namount to much. If we're spry, we can do it all up in less than no time,\nand have hours and hours left every day to play, and read, and go out on\nthe lake, and tramp in the woods, and just enjoy ourselves. Oh, isn't it\ngreat!\" and jumping to the floor with a bang, Dorothy seized the hands\nof the others, and in a moment all four were dancing around in a ring,\nwhile the three Dorrance voices loudly proclaimed that there was no\nplace like home.\n\nTessie had begun to grow accustomed to the boisterous young people, and\nas she thought everything they did was nothing short of perfection, she\nreadily adapted herself to her own part.\n\n\"What about the laundry-work, Miss Dorothy?\" she asked.\n\n\"Why, I don't know,\" said Dorothy. \"I hadn't really thought of that. I\nwonder if we can find a laundress anywhere around. We must ask Mr.\nHickox.\"\n\n\"Now, Miss Dorothy, if you'll let me, I'm just sure I can do the washing\nand ironing. With all these beautiful tubs and things, it'll be no\ntrouble at all, at all.\"\n\n\"Why if you could, Tessie, that would be fine. Let me see, we won't have\nmany white dresses or fancy things, but there'll be lots of sheets and\ntable linen. You know we're a pretty big family.\"\n\n\"Yes, miss; but I'm sure I can do it all. I'm strong, and I'm a good\nwasher.\"\n\n\"Well, we'll try it, anyway,\" said Dorothy, \"and see how you get along.\nWe girls will help a little more with your work on Mondays and Tuesdays,\nand then I think it will all come out right.\"\n\nDorothy was a singular mixture of capability and inconsequence.\n\nHer power of quick decision, and her confidence in her own ability, made\nher words a little dictatorial; but the gentleness of her nature, and\nthe winning smile which accompanied her orders took from them any touch\nof unpleasant authority. Dorothy's whole attitude was one of good\ncomradeship, and though much given to turbulent demonstration of her joy\nof living, she was innately of an equable temperament and had never been\nknown to lose her temper.\n\nLilian, on the other hand, was more excitable, and more prone to hasty\ndecisions which were afterwards rejected or revised. Lilian could get\nvery angry upon occasion, but she had a fine sense of justice; and if\nshe found herself in the wrong, she was more than ready to confess it\nand to make amends. The two girls really exercised a good influence over\none another, and the bonds of affection between them were very strong.\nIndeed the four Dorrances were a most loyal quartet; and though they\nteased each other, and made fun of each other, it was always in an\nhonest good-humored spirit that was quite willing to take as much as it\ngave.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nMRS. HICKOX\n\n\nAt six o'clock the family sat down to supper.\n\nDorothy had a lingering desire to use the great dining-room, but Mrs.\nDorrance had persuaded her that it was far more sensible to use the\nsmaller one, and she had pleasantly acquiesced.\n\nIndeed the smaller one was a large apartment, about four times the size\nof Mrs. Cooper's dining-room. The outlook across the lake was charming,\nand the room itself prettily decorated and furnished.\n\nFairy had wanted to use small tables, letting two sit at each table, but\nagain Grandma Dorrance had gently insisted on a family table.\n\nSo the small tables had been taken from the room, and a good-sized round\ndining-table substituted, at which Mrs. Dorrance presided. Leicester\nsat opposite her, Dorothy on one side, and the two younger girls on the\nother.\n\nVery attractive the table looked, for the china, glass and plated\nsilverware were all practically new, and of pretty design. Tessie was an\nexperienced and willing waitress; and it is safe to say that the\nDorrance family had never before so enjoyed a meal.\n\nMany hands had made light work, and Dorothy's had made light biscuits,\nand also a delicious omelet. They had strawberry jam and potted cheese,\nand some sliced boiled ham, all of which they had bought at the grocery\nshop on the way up.\n\n\"It's a sort of pick-up supper,\" said Dorothy; \"but I'm not saying this\nby way of apology. You will very often have a pick-up supper. Indeed, I\nthink almost always. We're going to have dinner in the middle of the\nday, because that's the better arrangement in the country.\"\n\nJust at that moment, nobody seemed to care what the dinner hour might\nbe, so interested were they in the supper under consideration.\n\n\"I think pick-ups are lovely,\" said Fairy, taking a fourth biscuit; \"I\nnever tasted anything so good as these biscuits, and I do hope\nDorothy'll make them three times a day. They are perfectly deliciorous!\"\n\n\"You're very flattering,\" said Dorothy. \"But I won't promise to make\nthem three times a day.\"\n\n\"I could eat them six times a day,\" declared Leicester; \"but I don't\nwant Dot to be cooking all the time. What do you think, girls, there are\nlots of boats of every sort and kind. Shall we go out rowing this\nevening, or wait till to-morrow?\"\n\n\"You'll wait till to-morrow,\" said grandma, quietly.\n\n\"All right, grandma,\" said Leicester; \"we'll start to-morrow morning\nright after breakfast; will you go, too?\"\n\n\"No, not on your first trip. I may go with you some time later in the\nseason. And I'll tell you now, children, once for all, that I'm going to\ntrust you to go on the lake whenever you choose; with the understanding\nthat you're to be sensible and honorable about it. The lake is very\ntreacherous; and if there is the least doubt about its being safe to\nventure out, you must ask Mr. Hickox about it, and if he advises you\nagainst it, you must not go. Also I trust you to act like reasonable\nhuman beings when you are in a boat, and not do foolish or rash things.\nIn a word, I trust you not to get drowned, and somehow I feel sure you\nwon't.\"\n\n\"Good for you, grannymother!\" cried Leicester; \"you're of the right\nsort. Why I've known grandmothers who would walk up and down the dock\nwringing their hands, for fear their geese weren't swans,--no, I guess I\nmean for fear their chickens weren't ducks. Well, anyhow, it doesn't\nmake any difference; you're the best grandmother in the world, and\nalways will be.\"\n\nAfter supper the Dorrances strolled through the hotel, and finally\nseated themselves in the great parlor.\n\nFairy plumped herself down in the middle of the floor, and sat\ncross-legged, with her chin in her hands.\n\n\"What's the matter, baby?\" asked Leicester; \"aren't these satin sofas\ngood enough for you?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I like to sit in the middle, and then I can look all around. I\nam just goating over it.\"\n\n\"Goat away; we're all doing the same thing,\" said Dorothy; \"now\ngrandmother, you sit on this sofa; and I'll go 'way down to the other\nend of the room, and sit on that one, and then we'll holler at each\nother. It's _such_ a relief not to be cooped up in a little bunch.\"\n\nThe twins seated themselves on opposite sides of the room, and then the\nconversation was carried on in loud tones, that delighted the hearts of\nthese noise-loving young people.\n\nSo merry were they that their laughter quite drowned the sound of the\ndoor-bell when it rang, and before they knew it, Tessie was ushering a\nvisitor into the parlor.\n\nThe great chandeliers had not been lighted, but the thoughtful Tessie\nhad filled and lighted several side lamps, so they were quite able to\nsee their somewhat eccentric-looking guest. She wore a black silk\nmantilla of an old-fashioned style; and her bonnet which was loaded\nwith dangling black bugles, was not much more modern. She was a small,\nthin little woman, with bright, snapping black eyes, and a sharp nose\nand chin.\n\n\"I'm Mrs. Hickox,\" she said, \"and I'm surprised that you people should\ncome to live in this great big hotel.\"\n\nAs Leicester said afterwards, if there had been any doubt as to the\nlady's identity, they would have felt sure, as soon as she declared her\nsurprise.\n\n\"We are glad to see you, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Grandma Dorrance, rising\nwith her gentle grace, and extending her hand in cordial greeting to her\nvisitor. \"Won't you be seated?\"\n\nMrs. Hickox sat down carefully on the edge of one of the chairs.\n\n\"I'm surprised,\" she said, \"that you should use this best room so\ncommon. Why don't you sit in some of the smaller rooms?\"\n\n\"We like this,\" said Grandma Dorrance, quietly. \"May I present my\ngrandchildren,--this is Dorothy.\"\n\nThe four were duly introduced, and really behaved remarkably well\nconsidering they were choking with laughter at Mrs. Hickox's continual\nsurprises.\n\n\"Do you propose to live in the whole house?\" asked Mrs. Hickox, after\nthe children had seated themselves a little more decorously than usual.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mrs. Dorrance, \"my grandchildren have been cooped up in\nsmall city rooms for so long, that they are glad to have plenty of space\nto roam around in.\"\n\n\"'Tisn't good for children to be left so free. It makes 'em regular\nhobbledehoys. Children need lots of training. Now that Dorothy,--my\nhusband tells me she's head of the house. How ridiculous!\"\n\n\"Perhaps it _is_ ridiculous, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Dorothy, dimpling and\nsmiling; \"but I'm over sixteen, and that's quite a big girl, you know.\"\n\n\"Oh, you're big enough for your age, but there's no sense of your\nkeeping house in a great big hotel like this.\"\n\n\"There's no sense in our doing anything else, Mrs. Hickox,\" said\nLeicester, coming to his sister's rescue. \"We own this place, and we\ncan't sell it or rent it, so the only thing to do is to live in it.\"\n\nMrs. Hickox shook her head until the jets on her bonnet rattled, and the\nchildren wondered if she wouldn't shake some of them off.\n\n\"No good will come of it,\" she said. \"This hotel has had six proprietors\nsince it was built, and none of them could make it pay.\"\n\n\"But we're not keeping a hotel, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Grandma Dorrance,\nsmiling; \"we're just living here in a modest, unpretentious way, and I\nthink my grandchildren are going to be happy here.\"\n\n\"Well, that's what Mr. Hickox said; but I wouldn't believe him, and I\nsaid I'd just come over to see for myself. It seems he was right, and I\nmust say I am surprised.\"\n\nMrs. Hickox was a nervous, fidgety woman, and waved her hands about in a\ncontinuous flutter. She was all the time picking at her bonnet-strings,\nor her dress-trimmings, or the fringe of her mantilla. Indeed once she\npulled the feather of her bonnet over in front of her eyes and then\ntossed it back with a satisfied smile. \"I often do that,\" she said, \"to\nmake sure it's there. It blew out one night, and I lost it. I found it\nagain and sewed it in tight, but I get worried about it every once in a\nwhile. I'm awful fond of dress, and I hope you brought a lot of new\npatterns up from the city. I've got a new-fangled skirt pattern, but I\ndon't like it because it has the pocket in the back. The idea! I was\nsurprised at that. I like a pocket right at my finger-ends all the\ntime.\"\n\nAs Mrs. Hickox spoke she thrust her five finger-ends in and out of her\npocket so rapidly and so many times, that Dorothy felt quite sure she\nwould wear her precious pocket to rags.\n\n\"What do you carry in your pocket?\" asked Fairy, fascinated by the\nperformance.\n\n\"Many things,\" said Mrs. Hickox, mysteriously; \"but mostly newspaper\nclippings. I tell you there's lots of good things in newspapers; and we\nhave a paper 'most every week, so of course I can cut out a good many.\nThe only trouble, cutting clippings out of a paper does spoil the paper\nfor covering shelves. The papers on my pantry shelves now have had some\nclippings cut out of them, but I just set piles of plates over the\nholes. Well, I must be going. I just came over to be sociable. I'm your\nnearest neighbor, and of course up here in the country neighbors have to\nbe neighborly, but I'm free to confess I don't favor borrowing nor\nlending. Woodville is nearer you than it is me, and I expect you'll do\nyour trading there.\"\n\n\"Of course we shall, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Dorothy, flushing a little; \"we\nare not the sort of people who borrow from our neighbors. But Mr. Hickox\ntold us that you sometimes had vegetables and eggs to sell; if that is\nso, we'd be glad to buy them.\"\n\n\"When I have them, miss, I'll let you know,\" said Mrs. Hickox, shaking\nher bugles more violently than ever. \"But you needn't come 'round\ninquiring for them; when I have them I'll let you know.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Dorothy, who was only amused, and not at all angry at\nher visitor's hostile attitude.\n\nBut Lilian could not so easily control her indignation. \"We can get\nvegetables and eggs at Woodville,\" she said. \"We don't really need any\nof yours.\"\n\n\"Oh, well, I guess that'll be the least of your troubles,\" said Mrs.\nHickox, edging towards the door, with a restless, jerky gait. \"You're\nlucky if the tank don't burst, or the windmill get out of order, or\nanything happen that will be really worth worrying over.\"\n\nBy this time Mrs. Hickox had backed out and edged along until she was on\nthe veranda. \"Good-bye,\" she said, awkwardly; \"come to see me, when you\nfeel to do so; but I ain't noways set on having company. I like the\nlittle one best, though.\"\n\nThis sudden avowal so startled Fairy, that she fell off the newel-post\nwhere she had been daintily balancing herself on one foot. As Leicester\ncaught her in his arms, no harm was done, but Mrs. Hickox ejaculated,\nwith a little more force than usual, \"Well, I _am_ surprised!\"\n\n\"That's why I tumbled over,\" said Fairy, looking intently at Mrs.\nHickox, \"'cause _I_ was so s'prised that you said you liked me best. If\nyou want me to, I'll come to see you with great pleasure and delight.\"\n\n\"Come once in a while,\" said Mrs. Hickox, cautiously; \"but I don't want\nyou racing there all the time.\"\n\n\"No, I won't race there all the time,\" said Fairy, seriously. \"I'll just\nrace down about once a day. Where do you live?\"\n\n\"I live in the yellow house,--the first one down the road. But you\nneedn't come more than once a week.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said Fairy, cheerfully; \"we'll make it Wednesdays then. I\nlove to have things to do on Wednesday, 'cause I used to take my music\nlesson on that day, and it's so lonesome not to have anything special to\ndo.\"\n\nWhile Fairy was talking, Mrs. Hickox had shaken hands all around, and\nhad backed down the steps.\n\n\"Good-bye,\" she said, vigorously waving both hands as she went away.\n\n\"Well, of all queer people!\" exclaimed Dorothy, as they went back to the\nparlor. \"I'm glad we haven't many neighbors, if they're all like that.\nMr. Hickox is funny enough, but she's funnier yet.\"\n\n\"We don't care whether we have neighbors or not, we've got the Dorrance\nDomain,\" said Leicester; \"and that's enough to make us happy, and keep\nus so.\"\n\n\"So say we all of us,\" cried Lilian; \"the Dorrance Domain forever!\"\n\nAs usual, this was merely a signal for a series of jubilant hurrahs, and\nquiet Grandma Dorrance sat on her sofa, and listened contentedly to her\nhappy, if noisy brood.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE FLOATING BRIDGE\n\n\nNext morning the young Dorrances experienced for the first time the joy\nof going to market.\n\nTheir appointed household tasks were all done first, for Dorothy had\ninsisted on that. Then she and Tessie had conferred as to what was\nneeded, and she had made out a list.\n\nGrandma Dorrance had decreed against a sailboat for the children alone;\nbut they were at liberty to go in a rowboat.\n\nSo down the steps the four ran, and found Mr. Hickox waiting for them at\nthe dock.\n\nHe had put a boat in the water for them. It was a round-bottomed boat,\nbut wide and roomy; easy to row and provided with two pairs of shining\noars.\n\n\"Can any of you row?\" inquired Mr. Hickox, looking uncertainly at the\nchildren; \"for I can't go along with you this morning. Mrs. Hickox, she\nwants me to work in the garden,--she says the weeds are higher 'n a\nkite.\"\n\n\"We can row,\" said Leicester; \"but not so very well. We haven't had much\nexperience, you know. But we're going to learn.\"\n\n\"I thought we'd each have a boat,\" said Fairy; \"I want to learn to row.\nI want to be a 'sperinshed boat-lady.\"\n\n\"You can learn to row, baby, but you can't go in a boat all by yourself\nuntil you _have_ learned.\"\n\n\"But I 'most know how now.\"\n\n\"Well I'll tell you how we'll fix it; two of us will row going over, and\nthe other two can row coming back. To divide up evenly, suppose Dorothy\nand Lilian row over, and Fairy and I will row home.\" This was a bit of\nself-sacrifice on Leicester's part, for he was most eager to handle the\noars himself.\n\nMr. Hickox quite appreciated the boy's attitude, and nodded approvingly\nat him but he only said: \"All right, sonny, you sit in the stern and\nsteer, and I make no doubt these young ladies'll row you over in fine\nshape.\"\n\nFairy was safely settled in the bow, with an admonition to sit still for\nonce in her life; and then Dorothy and Lilian excitedly grasped the oars\nand splashed away.\n\nIt was not very skilful rowing, but it propelled the boat, and by the\naid of Leicester's steering, they made a progressive, if somewhat zigzag\ncourse.\n\nThe morning was perfect. The lake calm and placid, with tiny soft\nripples all over it. The green hills sloped down to its shore on all\nsides; while here and there, at long intervals, a house or a building\ngleamed white among the trees. The exhilarating air, and the excitement\nof the occasion roused the Dorrances' spirits far above normal,--which\nis saying a great deal.\n\nThe arms of the rowers grew very tired; partly because they were so\nunused to vigorous exercise, and partly because the rowing was far more\nenergetic than scientific.\n\nBut the girls didn't mind being tired, and pulled away gleefully to an\naccompaniment of laughter and song.\n\nLeicester would have relieved them, but they had promised grandma they\nwould not move around or change places in the boat until they had become\nmore accustomed to nautical ways.\n\nBut it was only a mile, after all, and they finally landed at Dolan's\nPoint, and guided the bow of their boat up on to the beach in a truly\nshipshape manner. Fairy sprang out with a bound that landed her on the\ndry sand; Leicester followed, and then helped the exhausted but\nvictorious galley-slaves to alight.\n\n\"Isn't it glorious!\" cried Dorothy, panting for breath, but aglow with\nhappiness.\n\n\"Fine!\" agreed Lilian, but she looked a little ruefully at eight\nblisters on her pink palms.\n\n\"That's all right,\" said Leicester, cheerfully; \"you'll get calloused\nafter a while; blisters always have to come first.\"\n\n\"Oh, pooh, I don't mind them a bit,\" protested Lilian; for the Dorrances\nwere all of a plucky disposition.\n\nOn they went, following the directions given them by Mr. Hickox, and\nmaking wonderful explorations at every turn.\n\nDolan's Point seemed to be occupied principally by a large boathouse.\nThis belonged to a club-house, which was farther up the hill, and whose\nturrets and gables shining in the morning sunlight, looked like those of\nan old castle.\n\nTheir way lay across the point, and then they were to cross a small arm\nof the lake by means of a bridge.\n\nDorothy had hoped for a rustic bridge, and Leicester had told her that\nit would probably be two foot-planks and a hand-rail.\n\nBut when they saw the bridge itself, they were really struck speechless\nwith wonder and delight. It was a floating bridge, built of logs. It was\nperhaps eight feet wide, and was made by logs laid transversely and\nclose together. They were held in place by immense iron chains which\nwent alternately over and under the logs at their ends. Except at the\nsides of the bridge, the logs were not visible for they were covered\nwith a deep layer of soil on which grew luxuriant green grass. The thick\ngrass had been mowed and cared for until it resembled a soft velvet\ncarpet.\n\nOn either side of the bridge was a hand-rail of rope, supported at\nintervals by wooden uprights. The rope rails and the uprights were both\ncovered with carefully trained vines. Among these were morning-glory\nvines, and their pink and purple blossoms made an exquisite floral\ndecoration.\n\nEvidently the bridge was in charge of somebody who loved to care for it,\nand who enjoyed keeping it in order.\n\n\"Do you suppose we walk on it?\" asked Fairy, with a sort of awe in her\nvoice.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Leicester. \"It must be meant for that; but isn't it the most\nbeautiful thing you ever saw!\"\n\nIt certainly was, and the children stepped on to it gently, and walked\nslowly as one would walk in a church aisle.\n\nAlthough suspended at both ends, almost the whole length of the bridge\nrested on the water, and swayed gently with the rippling of the lake. It\nwas a delicious sensation to walk on the unstable turf, and feel it move\nslightly under foot.\n\nAs they advanced further, it seemed as if they were floating steadily\nalong, and Fairy grasped Leicester's hand with a little tremor. When\nthey reached the middle of the bridge they all sat down on the grass,\nand discussed the wonderful affair.\n\n\"I shall spend most of my time here,\" said Dorothy; \"it seems to be\npublic property, and I like it better than any park I have ever seen.\"\n\n\"It's lovely,\" agreed Lilian; \"I'd like to bring a book and sit here all\nday and read.\"\n\n\"But it's so funny,\" said Fairy; \"it's a bridge, and it's a park, and\nit's a garden, and it's a front yard,--and yet all the time it's a\nbridge.\"\n\n\"Well, let's go on,\" said Leicester. \"I suppose it will keep, and we can\nwalk back over it. And if we don't get our marketing done, we'll be like\nthe old woman who didn't get home in time to make her apple-dumplings.\"\n\n\"If she had found this bridge,\" declared Dorothy, \"she never would have\ngone home at all, and her story would never have been told.\"\n\nBut they all scrambled up and went on merrily towards the grocery store.\n\nThe store itself was a delight, as real country stores always are. Mr.\nBill Hodges was a storekeeper of the affable type, and expressed great\ninterest in his new customers.\n\nHe regaled them with ginger-snaps and thin slivers of cheese, which he\ncut off and proffered on the point of a huge shiny-bladed knife. This\nrefreshment was very acceptable, and when he supplemented it with a\nglass of milk all around, Dorothy was so grateful that she felt as if\nshe ought to buy out his whole stock.\n\nBut putting on a most housewifely air, she showed Mr. Hodges her list of\nneeds, and inquired if he could supply them.\n\n\"Bless your heart, yes,\" he replied. \"Bill Hodges is the man to purvide\nyou with them things. Shall I send 'em to you?\"\n\n\"Oh, can you?\" said Dorothy. \"I didn't know you delivered goods. I'd be\nglad if you would send the bag of flour and the potatoes, but most of\nthe smaller things we can carry ourselves.\"\n\n\"Well I swan!\" exclaimed Mr. Bill Hodges; \"you're real bright, you air.\nHow did ye come over? Walk?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" said Leicester. \"We came in a rowboat; and then walked across\nthe Point and over the bridge. We think that bridge very wonderful.\"\n\n\"And very beautiful,\" added Lilian. \"Who keeps it so nice?\"\n\n\"And doesn't it ever fall down in the water?\" asked Fairy; \"or doesn't\nthe mud wash off, or don't people fall off of it and get drownded? and\nhow do you cut the grass, and how do you water the flowers? It's just\nlike a conservatorory!\"\n\nAs Mr. Bill Hodges was something of a talker himself, he was surprised\nto be outdone in his own line by the golden-haired stranger-child, who,\napparently without effort, reeled off such a string of questions. But as\nthey referred to a subject dear to his heart he was delighted to answer\nthem.\n\n\"That bridge, my young friends, is my joy and delight. Nobody touches\nthat bridge, to take care of it, but Bill Hodges,--that's me. I'm proud\nof that bridge, I am, and I don't know what I'd do, if I didn't have it\nto care for. I'm glad you like it; I ain't got nary chick nor child to\nrun across it. So whenever you young folks feel like coming over to look\nat it, I'll be pleased and proud to have ye; pleased and proud, that's\nwhat I'll be; so come early and come often, come one and come all.\"\n\n\"We'll bring our grandmother over to see it,\" said Dorothy, \"just as\nsoon as we can manage to do so.\"\n\n\"Do,\" said Mr. Hodges, heartily. \"Bring her along, bring her along. Glad\nto welcome her, I'm sure. Now I'll go 'long and help you tote your\nbundles to your boat. I don't have crowds of customers this time of day,\nand I can just as well go as not.\"\n\nThe kind-hearted old man filled a basket with their purchases, and\ntrudged along beside the children.\n\n\"Ain't it purty!\" he exclaimed as they crossed the bridge. \"Oh, _ain't_\nit purty?\"\n\n\"It is,\" said Dorothy. \"I don't wonder you love it.\"\n\n\"And there ain't another like it in the whole world,\" went on the\nprideful Hodges. \"Of course there are floating bridges, but no-wheres is\nthere one as purty as this.\"\n\nThe children willingly agreed to this statement, and praised the bridge\nquite to the content of its owner.\n\n\"Fish much?\" Mr. Hodges inquired casually of Leicester.\n\n\"Well, we haven't yet. You see we only arrived yesterday, and we're not\nfairly settled yet.\"\n\n\"Find plenty of fishin' tackle over to my place. Come along when you're\nready, and Bill Hodges'll fit ye out. Pretty big proposition,--you kids\nshakin' around in that great empty hotel.\"\n\n\"Yes, but we like it,\" said Leicester; \"it just suits us, and we're\ngoing to have a fine time all summer.\"\n\n\"Hope ye will, hope ye will. There ain't been nobody livin' there now\nfor two summers and I'm right down glad to have somebody into it.\"\n\n\"Why do you suppose they couldn't make it pay as a hotel?\" asked\nDorothy.\n\n\"Well, it was most always the proprietor's fault. Yes, it was the\nproprietor's fault. Nice people would come up there to board, and then\nHarding,--he was the last fellow that tried to run it,--he wouldn't\ntreat 'em nice. He'd scrimp 'em, and purty nigh starve 'em. Ye can't\nkeep boarders that way. And so of course the boarders kept leavin', and\nso the hotel got a bad name, and so nobody wants to try a hand at it\nagain.\"\n\nWhen they reached the boat, Mr. Hodges stowed their basket away for\nthem, helped the children in and pushed the boat off.\n\nWith gay good-byes and promises to come soon again, the children rowed\naway.\n\nLeicester and Fairy took the oars this time, and Fairy's comical\nsplashing about made fun for them all. She soon declared she had rowed\nenough for one day, but Leicester proved himself well able to get the\nboat across the lake without assistance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE HICKOXES AT HOME\n\n\nOn Wednesday morning Fairy declared her intention of visiting Mrs.\nHickox. She carried her kitten with her, and danced gaily along the\nroad, singing as she went.\n\nShe found the house without any trouble, as it was the only one in\nsight; and opening the front gate, she walked up the flower-bordered\npath to the house, still singing loudly. She wore the kitten around her\nneck as a sort of boa, and this seemed to be a satisfactory arrangement\nto all concerned, for the kitten purred contentedly.\n\nFairy rapped several times at the front door, but there was no answer;\nso she walked leisurely around to the side of the house. There she saw\nanother outside door, which seemed to open into a small room or ell\nattached to the house. She knocked at this door, and it was opened by\nMrs. Hickox herself, but such a different looking Mrs. Hickox from the\none who had called on them, that Fairy scarcely recognized her. Her hair\nwas done up in crimping pins, and she wore a short black skirt and a\nloose white sacque.\n\n\"Goodness me!\" she exclaimed, \"have you come traipsing over here\na'ready? What's the matter with your hotel, that you can't stay in it?\"\n\n\"There's nothing a matter with the hotel, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Fairy,\namiably; \"but I said I'd come to see you on Wednesday, and so I came.\nI've brought my kitten.\"\n\n\"You've brought your kitten! for the land sake what did you do that for?\nDon't you know this is my milk-room? The idea of a kitten in a\nmilk-room! Well I _am_ surprised!\"\n\n\"Oh, I think a milk-room is just the place for a kitten. Couldn't you\ngive her a little drink of milk, she's awfully fond of it.\"\n\n\"Why I s'pose I could give her a little. Such a mite of a cat wouldn't\nwant much; but I do hate cats; they're such pestering creatures.\"\n\n\"But this one doesn't pester, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Fairy, earnestly.\n\"She's such a dear good little kitty. Her name is Mike.\"\n\n\"What a ridiculous name! I'm surprised that you should call her that.\"\n\n\"It isn't much of a name,\" said Fairy, apologetically. \"But you see it's\nonly temporaneous. I couldn't think of just the right name, so I just\ncall her Mike, because that's short for my kitten.\"\n\n\"Mike! short for my kitten! Well so it is, but I never thought of it\nbefore.\"\n\n\"All our other animals have regular names,\" volunteered Fairy. \"Our\ndog,--his name's Dare; our two rabbits are Gog and Magog,--Leicester\nnamed them; or at least he named one, and let Lilian name the other.\nThey're twins you know,--the rabbits, I mean. Then we have a canary bird\nand he's named Bobab. That's a nice name, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Nice name? It's heathenish! What a queer lot of children you are,\nanyway.\"\n\n\"Yes, aren't we?\" said Fairy, agreeably. \"We Dorrances are all queer. I\nguess we inheritated it from my grandpa's people, because my grandma\nisn't a bit queer.\"\n\n\"Oh, isn't she? I think she's queer to let you children come up here,\nand do what you are doing.\"\n\n\"Oh, that isn't queer. You only think my grandma queer because you don't\nknow her. Why, I used to think you quite queer before I knew you as well\nas I do now.\"\n\n\"You consider yourself well acquainted now, do you?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes; when anybody visits anybody sociaberly, like I do you, they\nknow each other quite well. But I think it's queer why you call this\nroom a milk-room.\" Fairy looked around at the shelves and tables which\nwere filled with jars and pans and baskets, and receptacles of all\nsorts. The floor was of brick, and the room was pleasantly cool, though\nthe weather had begun to be rather warm.\n\n\"I call it a milk-room because that's its name,\" said Mrs. Hickox,\nshortly.\n\n\"But _why_ is that its name?\" persisted Fairy. \"You keep everything\nelse here as well as milk. Why don't you call it the butter-room or the\npie-room?\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know. Don't pester me so with your questions. Here's a\ncookie; now I'll take you in the house, and show you the best room, and\nthen you must go home. I don't like to have little girls around very\nmuch. Come along, but don't eat your cookie in the house; you'll make\ncrumbs. Put it in your pocket until you get out of doors again.\"\n\n\"I won't pester,\" said Fairy; \"you just go on with your work, whatever\nyou were doing, and I'll play around by myself.\"\n\n\"By yourself! I guess you won't! Do you suppose I want a great girl like\nyou rampoosing around my house! I've seen you fly around! You'd upset\neverything.\"\n\n\"I expect I would, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Fairy, laughing. \"I just certainly\ncan't sit still; it gives me the widgets.\"\n\n\"I guess I won't take you into the best room after all, then. Like as\nnot you'd knock the doves over.\"\n\n\"Oh, do let me go! What are the doves? I'll promise not to knock them\nover, and I'll hold Mike tight so she can't get away. Oh, come, oh,\ncome; show me the best room!\"\n\nAs Mrs. Hickox's parlor was the pride of her life, and as she rarely had\nopportunity to exhibit it to anybody, she was glad of even a child to\nshow it to. So bidding Fairy be very careful not to touch a thing, she\nled her through the hall and opened the door of the sacred best room.\n\nIt was dark inside, and it smelled a little musty. Mrs. Hickox opened\none of the window-blinds for the space of about two inches, but even\nwhile she was doing so, Fairy had flown around the room, and flung open\nall of the other window sashes and blinds. Then before Mrs. Hickox could\nfind words to express her wrath at this desecration, Fairy had begun a\nrunning fire of conversation which left her hostess no chance to utter a\nword.\n\n\"Oh, are these the doves? How perfectly lovely!\" she cried, pausing on\ntip-toe in front of a table on which was a strange-shaped urn of white\nalabaster, filled with gaily- artificial flowers. On opposite\nsides of the rim of the urn were two stuffed white doves, facing each\nother across the flowers. \"Where did you get them? Are they alive? Are\nthey stuffed? What are their eyes made of? Were they your grandmother's?\nOh, one of them had his wing broken. You sewed it on again, didn't you?\nBut the stitches show. My sister has some glue, white glue, that would\nfix that bird up just fine. When I come next Wednesday, I'll bring that\nglue with me and we'll rip off that wing and fix it up all right.\"\n\n\"Well, I _am_ surprised!\" said Mrs. Hickox. \"What do children like you\nknow about such things? But still, if you think it would do well, I'd\nlike to try it. I've got a newspaper clipping about that white glue, but\nI never saw any. Has your grandma unpacked her dress patterns yet?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Fairy. \"I don't think she has any. We never make\nour own dresses.\"\n\n\"For the land sake! Why I thought they looked home-made. Well I _am_\nsurprised! But hurry up and see the room, for I want to get them\nshutters shut again.\"\n\nFairy didn't see anything in the room that interested her greatly. The\nred-flowered carpet, the stiff black horsehair chairs, and the\nmarble-topped centre-table moved her neither to admiration nor mirth.\n\n\"I've seen it all, thank you,\" she said. \"Do you want it shut up again?\nWhat do you keep it so shut up for? Do you like to have it all musty and\ndamp? I should think some of your newspaper clippings would tell you to\nthrow open your windows and let in the fresh air and sunshine.\"\n\n\"Why they do say that,\" said Mrs. Hickox; \"but of course I don't take it\nto mean the best room.\"\n\n\"We do,\" said Fairy, dancing around from window to window as she shut\nthe blinds. \"We have that great big parlor over at the Dorrance Domain\nflung wide open most of the time; and the little parlors, too, and the\ndining-room and all our bedrooms.\"\n\n\"Well, I _am_ surprised!\" said Mrs. Hickox. \"It must fade your carpets\nall out, doesn't it?\"\n\n\"I don't know; we haven't been there three days yet, so of course they\nhaven't faded very much. I guess I must go home now. Leicester went out\nfishing this morning, and Dorothy and Lilian went to market, and I'm\njust crazy to see what they've accumerated.\"\n\n\"Well, run along,\" said Mrs. Hickox; \"and you can come again next\nWednesday, but don't bring your kitten the next time. When you do come\nagain, I wish you'd bring some of that white glue you were talking\nabout; I would certainly like to try it. Here, wait a minute, I'll give\nyou some gum-drops; then you'll remember the glue, won't you?\"\n\n\"I'd remember it anyway, Mrs. Hickox; but I do love candy,\nper-tickle-uly gum-drops.\"\n\n\"Well, here's three; don't eat them all to-day.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Mrs. Hickox,\" said Fairy, taking the three precious bits of\ncandy. Then saying good-bye, she danced away with her kitten tucked\nunder her arm.\n\nShortly after Fairy's departure, Mr. Hickox came dawdling along towards\nhis own home.\n\n\"I do declare, Hickory Hickox, if you haven't been and wasted the whole\nmorning, fooling with those Dorrance young ones! Now what have you been\ndoing?\"\n\n\"Oh, nothin' in particular. Just helpin' 'em get settled a bit. Lookin'\nafter their boats and things, and buildin' a little house for them\nrabbits of theirs. That Leicester, he's a smart chap; handy with tools,\nand quick to catch on to anything.\"\n\n\"Well I _am_ surprised! Wasting a whole morning building a rabbit-coop!\"\n\n\"For the land's sake, Susan, it ain't wasted time. They pay me for all I\ndo for 'em, and they pay me well, too.\"\n\n\"They're extravagant people. They have no business to hire you to work\naround so much, when you've got plenty to do at home.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't worry; Hickox'll look after things. It'll be all right.\"\n\nThough he spoke carelessly, Mr. Hickox was in reality much disturbed by\nhis wife's sharp speeches. Long years of married life with her had not\nyet enabled his gentle, peace-loving nature to remain unruffled under\nher stormy outbursts of temper. He stood, unconsciously and nervously\nfumbling with a wisp of straw he had plucked from a near-by broom.\n\n\"You're shiftless and idle, Hickory, and you don't know what's good for\nyourself. Now do stop fiddling with that straw. First thing you know,\nyou'll be poking it in your ear. I cut out a newspaper clipping only\nyesterday, about a man who poked a straw in his ear, and it killed him.\nThat's what you'll come to some day.\"\n\n\"No, I won't.\"\n\n\"Yes, you will! But just you remember this safe rule: never put anything\nin your ear, but your elbow. But you're so forgetful. I am surprised\nthat a man _can_ be as forgetful as you are! Throw that straw\naway,--it's safer.\"\n\n\"Yes, it's safer, Susan,\" and Mr. Hickox threw his straw away. \"And when\nyou sit down to dinner, I hope you will tie yourself into your chair.\nYou may not fall off, but it's safer.\"\n\nMrs. Hickox gave her husband a scornful look, which was all the reply\nshe usually vouchsafed to his occasional shafts of mild sarcasm.\n\n\"That big dog is a ridiculous extravagance,\" she went on. \"He must eat\nas much as a man. I am surprised that people as poor as they are should\nkeep such a raft of animals.\"\n\n\"Why the Dorrances aren't poor.\"\n\n\"Yes they are; and if they aren't they soon will be. Throwin' open that\ngreat big house for them few people, is enough to ruin a millionaire.\nThat little girl says they use nearly every room in it.\"\n\n\"So they do,\" said Mr. Hickox, chuckling; \"when I went over there this\nmorning, they was every one in a different room; happy as clams, and\nnoisy as a brass band.\"\n\n\"They're a terrible lot! I never saw anything like them.\"\n\n\"That Dorothy is a smart one,\" declared Mr. Hickox, with an air of great\nconviction. \"Some day she'll set Lake Ponetcong on fire!\"\n\n\"I wouldn't be at all surprised,\" said Mrs. Hickox, which was, all\nthings considered, a remarkable statement.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nSIX INVITATIONS\n\n\nJune came, and found the Dorrance Domain in full working order. The\nexperiment seemed to be proving a complete success; and the six people\nwho lived in the big hotel were collectively and individually happy.\n\nGrandma Dorrance realized that all was well, and gave the children\nabsolute liberty to do as they pleased from morning to night, feeling\ngrateful that the circumstances permitted her to do this. Besides\nenjoying their happiness, the dear old lady was quite happy and\ncontented on her own account. The delightful bracing air made her feel\nbetter and stronger; and the entire freedom from care or responsibility\nquieted her nerves.\n\nDorothy was complete mistress of the house. The responsibilities of this\nposition had developed many latent capabilities of her nature, and she\nwas daily proving herself a sensible, womanly girl, with a real talent\nfor administration, and much executive ability. She was very kind to\nTessie, realizing that the Irish, girl had no friends or companions of\nher own class around her; but Dorothy also preserved a certain dignified\nattitude, which became the relation of mistress and maid. She ordered\nthe household affairs with good judgment, and was rapidly becoming an\nexpert cook. This part of the domestic work specially appealed to her,\nand she thoroughly enjoyed concocting elaborate dishes for the\ndelectation of her family. Sometimes these confections did not turn out\nquite right; but Dorothy was not discouraged, and cheerfully threw away\nthe uneatable messes, and tried the same difficult recipes again, until\nshe had conquered them.\n\nThe flaw in Dorothy's character was an over self-confidence; but this\nwas offset by her sunny good-humored disposition, and she gaily accepted\nthe situation, when the others teased her about her failures.\n\nThe days passed like beautiful dreams. The family rose late, as there\nwas no special reason why they should rise early. The children spent\nmuch time on the water in their rowboats, and also renewed their\nacquaintance with Captain Kane, who took them frequently for a little\nexcursion in the _Mamie Mead_.\n\nBut perhaps best of all, Dorothy liked the hours she spent lying in a\nhammock, reading or day-dreaming.\n\nShe was fond of books, and had an ambition to write poetry herself. This\nwas not a romantic tendency, but rather a desire to express in\nbeautiful, happy language the joy of living that was in her heart.\n\nShe rarely spoke of this ambition to the others, for they did not\nsympathize with it, and frankly expressed very positive opinions that\nshe was not a poet and never would be. Indeed, they said that Fairy had\nmore imagination and poetic temperament then Dorothy.\n\nDorothy was willing to agree to this, for she in no way over-estimated\nher own talent,--she was merely acutely conscious of her great desire to\nwrite things.\n\nSo often for a whole afternoon she would lie in a hammock under the\ntrees, looking across the lake at the hills and the sky, and\nassimilating the wonderful beauty of it all. This dreamy side of\nDorothy's nature seemed to be in sharp contrast to her practical\nenergetic power of work; it also seemed incongruous with her intense\nlove of fun and her enjoyment of noisy, rollicking merriment.\n\nBut these different sides reacted on each other, and combined with\nDorothy's natural frankness and honesty, made a sweet and wholesome\ncombination. Had Dorothy been an only child, she might have been given\ntoo much to solitude and introspection; but by the counteracting\ninfluences of her diverting family, and her care of their welfare, she\nwas saved from such a fate.\n\nOne day she was suddenly impressed with a conviction that Grandma\nDorrance must often feel lonely, and that something ought to be done to\ngive her some special pleasure.\n\n\"We all have each other,\" said Dorothy to the other children, \"but\ngrandma can't go chasing around with us, and she ought to have somebody\nto amuse her, at least for a time. So I think it would be nice to invite\nMrs. Thurston up here to spend a week with us.\"\n\nMrs. Thurston was a lifelong friend of Mrs. Dorrance's, and moreover was\na lady greatly liked by the Dorrance children.\n\n\"It would be very nice,\" said grandma, much gratified by Dorothy's\nthoughtfulness; \"I don't really feel lonely, you know; it isn't that.\nBut I would enjoy having Mrs. Thurston here for a time, and I am sure\nshe would enjoy it too.\"\n\n\"Hooray for Mrs. Thurston!\" shouted Leicester; \"and say, Dot, I'd like\nto have company too. S'pose we ask Jack Harris to come up for a few\ndays. I'm the only boy around these parts, and I declare I'd like to\nhave a chum. Meaning no slight to my revered sisters.\"\n\n\"I want Gladys Miller,\" said Fairy. \"The twins have each other, and\nDorothy has grandma, but I don't seem to have any little playmate, 'cept\nMrs. Hickox, and she's so supernumerated.\"\n\nThey all laughed at this, but Dorothy said, \"Why, we'll each invite one\nguest. That's a fine idea! There's plenty of room, and as to the extra\nwork, if we all do a little more each day, it won't amount to much. I'll\nask Edith Putnam, and Lilian, of course, you'll want May Lewis.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course,\" cried Lilian; \"I'd love to have May up here. I never\nonce thought of it before.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what!\" exclaimed Leicester. \"Now here's a really\nbrilliant idea. Let Tessie invite some friend of hers too, and then she\ncan help you girls with the work.\"\n\n\"That _is_ a good idea,\" said Grandma Dorrance, approvingly. \"We'd have\nto have extra help, with so many more people, and if Tessie has any\nfriend who would like to come for a week, it would be very satisfactory.\nOf course we will pay her wages.\"\n\n\"Wowly-wow-wow!\" exclaimed Leicester; \"won't we have rackets! I say,\nDot, give Jack that other tower room, right over mine, will you? He'd\nlike it first-rate.\"\n\n\"Yes, and we'll give Mrs. Thurston that big pleasant room next to\ngrandma's. Tessie and I will begin to-day to get the rooms ready.\"\n\n\"Hold on, sis, don't go too fast; you haven't had any acceptances yet to\nthe invitations you haven't yet sent!\"\n\n\"No, but they'll all come fast enough; we'll each write to-day, and\nwe'll tell the people to get together, and all come up in a bunch,\" said\nLilian. \"I know May Lewis's mother wouldn't let her come alone, but with\nMrs. Thurston, it will be all right.\"\n\n\"And Captain Kane can bring the whole crowd up from the station,\" said\nLeicester; \"and we'll row down to the lock to meet them. And we'll have\nflags and bonfires and Chinese lanterns for a celebration. There's lots\nof Chinese lanterns up in one of the storerooms,--we'll just have to get\nsome candles. Jiminy! won't it be fun!\"\n\n\"Perhaps it will be too hard on you, Dorothy,\" said Mrs. Dorrance;\n\"doubling the family means a great deal of extra cooking, you know.\"\n\n\"Oh, that will be all right, grannymother; and perhaps the lady Tessie\ninvites will be able to help out with the cooking.\"\n\n\"Gladys's room must be next to mine,\" said Fairy, \"so we can be\nsociarbubble. I shall take her to see Mrs. Hickox the first thing, and\nshe'll proberly give us two gum-drops apiece.\"\n\nFairy's friendship with Mrs. Hickox was a standing joke in the family,\nand that lady's far from extravagant gifts of confectionery caused great\nhilarity among the younger Dorrances.\n\nFull of their new project, they all flew to write their letters of\ninvitation, and within an hour the six missives were ready, and\nLeicester volunteered to row over to Woodville with them. Tessie was\ndelighted at the prospect, when Dorothy explained it to her.\n\n\"Shure, I'll ask me mother,\" she exclaimed; \"she's afther bein' a fine\ncook, Miss Dorothy, an' yez'll niver regret the day she comes. Indade,\nshe can turn her hand to annythin'.\"\n\nAlthough Tessie was a superior type of Irish girl, and usually spoke\nfairly good English, when excited, she always dropped into a rich\nbrogue which greatly delighted the children.\n\n\"Just the thing, Tessie; write for your mother at once, or I'll write\nfor you, if you like, and I hope she'll come up with the rest of them.\"\n\n\"Shure, she will, Miss Dorothy; she lives all alone an' she can come as\naisy as not. An' she's that lonesome for me, you wouldn't believe! Och,\nbut she'll be glad of the chance.\"\n\nFeeling sure that most if not all of their guests would accept the\ninvitations, Dorothy, Lilian and Tessie,--more or less hindered by\nFairy, who tried hard to help,--spent the afternoon arranging the\nbedrooms. It was a delightful task, for everything that was needed\nseemed to be at hand in abundance. The hotel when built, had been most\nlavishly and elaborately furnished, even down to the smallest details.\nThe successive proprietors had apparently appreciated the value of the\nappointments, and had kept them in perfect order and repair. Moreover,\nas their successive seasons had been a continuous series of failures,\nand few guests had stayed at the hotel, there had been little wear and\ntear.\n\nAlthough Mrs. Hickox had not lost her grudging demeanor regarding her\neggs and vegetables, yet Fairy was able to wheedle some flowers from her\nnow and then, with the result that the Dorrance Domain had assumed a\nmost attractive and homelike general effect.\n\nOf course, the individual rooms showed the taste and hobbies of their\nseveral owners; while the large parlor which the family had come to use\nas a general living-room had entirely lost all resemblance to a hotel\nparlor, and had become the crowning glory of the Dorrance Domain. The\nDorrances had a way of leaving the impress of their personality upon all\ntheir belongings; and since the big hotel belonged to them, it had\nnecessarily grown to look like their home.\n\n\"I think,\" said Dorothy, \"if they all come, it would be nicer to use the\nbig dining-room.\"\n\n\"And the little tables,\" cried Fairy; \"two at each one, you know. Me and\nGladys at one, and Leicester and Jack at another, and grandma and----\"\n\n\"Oh, no, Fairy,\" said grandma, \"that wouldn't be nice at all. It\nwouldn't even be polite. Use the big dining-room, if you wish, but let\nus all sit at one table. Surely, you can find a table big enough for\nten.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" cried Leicester; \"there are a lot of great big round\ntable-tops in the storeroom. They're marked 'banquet tables'; one of\nthose will be just the thing.\"\n\n\"What do you do with a table-top, if it doesn't have any legs?\" asked\nFairy. \"Do you put it on the floor, and all of us sit on the floor\naround it, like turkeys?\"\n\n\"I suppose you mean Turks,\" said Leicester, instructively; \"but no, we\ndon't arrange it just that way. We simply put the big round table-top on\ntop of the table we are now using, and there you are!\"\n\n\"It will be beautiful,\" said Dorothy. \"I do love a round table. You can\nmake it look so lovely with flowers and things. I hope they'll all\ncome.\"\n\nDorothy's hopes were fulfilled, and every one of the six who were\ninvited sent a delighted acceptance. Tessie's mother, perhaps,\nexpressed the most exuberant pleasure, but all seemed heartily glad to\ncome.\n\nThey were invited for a week, and were expected to arrive one Thursday\nafternoon at about four o'clock.\n\nVast preparations had been made, for every one was interested especially\nin one guest, and each made ready in some characteristic way.\n\nDorothy, as housekeeper, spent all her energies on the culinary\npreparations. She delighted the heart of Mr. Bill Hodges by her generous\norders, and she and Tessie had concocted a pantry-full of good things\nfor the expected visitors.\n\nLilian had put the hotel in apple-pie order, and given finishing touches\nto the guests' rooms, and Fairy had performed her part by inducing Mrs.\nHickox to let them have an extra lot of flowers. These flowers were all\nof old-fashioned varieties which grew luxuriantly in Mrs. Hickox's\ngarden; and arranged with Lilian's exquisite taste, and by her deft\nfingers, they made really lovely decorations for parlor, dining-room and\nbedrooms.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nGUESTS FOR ALL\n\n\nAs the guests would reach the Dorrance Domain by daylight, Leicester's\nplan of illuminating the grounds was scarcely feasible. But he had hung\nthe Chinese lanterns on the veranda, and among the trees, and had put\ncandles inside them, so they could light them up, and have their\ncelebration in the evening.\n\nIt was arranged that the twins should row down to meet the _Mamie Mead_\nand then get on board, and escort the guests up the lake, towing their\nown rowboat.\n\nDorothy preferred to stay at home, to attend to some last important\ndetails in the kitchen, and Fairy said she would sit with grandma on the\nveranda, and await the arrival.\n\nSoon after four o'clock, Fairy ran into the house screaming to Dorothy\nthat the _Mamie Mead_ was in sight. This gave Dorothy ample time to run\nup-stairs for a final brush to her hair, and a final adjustment of her\nribbons, and there was no air of a flurried or perturbed housekeeper\nabout the calm and graceful girl who sauntered out on the veranda to\ngreet her guests.\n\nFairy danced half-way down the steps to the dock, and then danced back\nagain hand-in-hand with Gladys Miller. The others came up more slowly,\nand Grandma Dorrance rose with pleasure to welcome her dear friend Mrs.\nThurston.\n\nThen there was a general chorus of excited greetings all around.\n\nThe newcomers were so astonished and delighted at the novelty of the\nsituation, that they could not restrain their enthusiasm; and the\nresidents of the Dorrance Domain were so proud and happy to offer such\nunusual hospitality, that they too, were vociferously jubilant.\n\nBut the stranger among the newcomers was of such appalling proportions\nthat Dorothy couldn't help staring in amazement.\n\nTessie's mother was quite the largest woman she had ever seen, and\nDorothy privately believed that she must be the largest woman in the\nwhole world. She was not only very tall, and also very broad, but she\nhad an immense frame, and her muscles seemed to indicate a powerfulness\nfar beyond that of an ordinary man.\n\nTo this gigantic specimen of femininity Dorothy advanced, and said\npleasantly: \"I suppose this is Kathleen?\"\n\n\"Yis, mum; an' it's proud I am to be wid yez. The saints presarve ye,\nfur a foine young lady! An' wud yez be's afther showin' me to me\ndaughter? Och, 'tis there she is! Tessie, me darlint, is it indade\nyersilf?\"\n\nTessie had caught sight of her mother, and unable to control her\nimpatience had run to meet her. Though Tessie was a fair-sized girl she\nseemed to be quite swallowed up in the parental embrace. Her mother's\narms went 'round her, and Leicester exclaimed, involuntarily, \"Somebody\nought to rescue Tessie! she'll have every bone cracked!\"\n\nBut she finally emerged, unharmed and beaming with happiness, and then\nshe led her mother away to the kitchen, the big woman radiating joy as\nshe went.\n\n\"She jars the earth,\" said Jack Harris; \"as long as she's on this side,\nthe lake is liable to tip up, and flood this place of yours. But I say,\nLess, what a magnificent place it is! Do you run the whole\nshooting-match?\"\n\n\"Yes, we do,\" said Leicester, trying to look modest and unostentatious.\n\"It isn't really too big, that is,--I mean,--we like it big.\"\n\n\"Like it? I should think you would like it! It's just the greatest ever!\nI say, take me in the house, and let me see that, will you?\"\n\nThe girls wanted to go too, and so leaving the elder ladies to chat on\nthe veranda, the children ran in, and the Dorrance Domain was exhibited\nto most appreciative admirers.\n\nJack Harris was eager to see it all; and even insisted on going up\nthrough the skylight to the roof. This feat had not before been thought\nof by the Dorrance children, and so the whole crowd clambered up the\nnarrow flight of stairs that led to the skylight, and scrambled out on\nthe roof. Dorothy's dignity was less observable just now, and she and\nEdith Putnam romped and laughed with the other children as if they were\nall of the same age. The view from the roof was beautiful, and the place\nreally possessed advantages as a playground. There was a railing all\naround the edge, and though the gables were sloping, many parts of the\nroof were flat, and Jack declared it would be a lovely place to sit on a\nmoonlight night.\n\nThen down they went again, and showing the guests to their various\nrooms, made them feel that at last they were really established in the\nDorrance Domain. This naturally broke the party up into couples, and\nLeicester carried Jack off to his own room first, to show him the many\nboyish treasures that he had already accumulated.\n\nFairy flew around, as Jack Harris expressed it, \"like a hen with her\nhead off,\" and everywhere Fairy went, she dragged the more slowly moving\nGladys after her, by one hand. Gladys was devoted to Fairy, and admired\nher thistledown ways; but being herself a fat, stolid child, could by\nno means keep up to Fairy's pace.\n\nDorothy took Edith Putnam to her room, and being intimate friends the\ntwo girls sat down together, and became so engrossed in their chat, that\nwhen nearly a half-hour later, Lilian and May Lewis came in to talk with\nthem, Edith had not yet even taken off her hat.\n\nAlthough dear friends of the Dorrances', Edith and May were of very\ndifferent types.\n\nEdith Putnam was a round, rosy girl, very pretty and full of life and\nenthusiasm. She was decidedly comical, and kept the girls laughing by\nher merry retorts. She was bright and capable, but disinclined for hard\nwork, and rather clever in shifting her share of it to other people's\nshoulders.\n\nMay Lewis, on the other hand, was a plain, straightforward sort of girl;\nnot dull, but a little diffident, and quite lacking in self-confidence.\nNot especially quick-witted,--yet what she knew, she knew thoroughly,\nand had no end of perseverance and persistence. She was of a most\nunselfish and helpful disposition, and Lilian well knew that without\nasking, May would assist her at her household tasks during the visit,\nand would even do more than her share.\n\nDorothy frankly explained to the girls what the household arrangements\nwere in the Dorrance Domain, and said, that since certain hours of the\nday must be devoted to regular work by the Dorrance sisters, the guests\nwould at such times be thrown upon their own resources for\nentertainment.\n\n\"Not I!\" cried Edith; \"I shall help you, Dorothy, in everything you have\nto do while I'm here. Indeed, I just think I'll do up your chores for\nyou, and let you take a rest. I'm sure you need one. Not that you look\nso; I never saw you look so fat and rosy in your life; but you mustn't\nwork too hard just because you have company. You mustn't do a single\nthing extra for us, will you?\"\n\n\"You mustn't dictate to your hostess, miss,\" returned Dorothy, gaily;\n\"and I hardly think you can assist me very much, for I look after the\ncookery part, and I think you've given me to understand that you detest\ncooking. Also, I most certainly shall do extra things while you're\nhere. It is my pleasure to entertain my guests properly,\" and Dorothy\nsmiled in her most grown-up manner.\n\n\"Good gracious! Dorothy Dorrance, did your manners come with your\nDomain, or where did you get that highfalutin air of yours?\"\n\n\"Oh, that was put on purposely to impress you with my importance,\" said\nDorothy, dimpling into a little girl again. \"But truly, I must skip down\nto the kitchen now, and see if my Parker House rolls are rising, rose or\nhaving risen. No, you can't come, Edith; you'd spoil the rolls,--though\nyou'd do it in a most well-meaning way. Now you girls all go out, and\ndisport yourselves on the lawn, while I do my noble duty. Though I'm\nfree to confess I'm scared to death of that awe-inspiring mother-person\nthat Tessie has imported.\"\n\n\"I think she'll be helpful,\" said May Lewis. \"She came up with us you\nknow, and really she's wonderful. She looked after us all, and she's as\nfunny as a red wagon.\"\n\n\"Red wagon!\" exclaimed Edith; \"she's nearer the size of a red\nautomobile, and she has the same kind of energy that automobiles are\nsaid to have. I don't own one myself, so I don't know.\"\n\n\"I don't own one either,\" said Dorothy, \"so I don't know how to manage\none. But I suppose I must make a try at managing the bulky Kathleen,--so\nI may as well start.\"\n\nThe whole troop ran down the wide staircase, except Fairy, who slid down\nthe banister, and leaving the others in the hall, Dorothy ran away to\nthe kitchen.\n\nThere she found Kathleen proceeding in a manner quite in accordance with\nher appearance. She had assumed immediate and entire charge of the\nsupper preparations, and was ordering Tessie about in a good-natured,\nbut domineering way.\n\n\"Lave me have a bit o' red pepper, darlint,\" she was saying, as Dorothy\ncame in; \"this dhressin' is flat for the want of it. Ah, Miss Dorothy,\nis that you, thin? an' I'm jist afther shlappin' together yer\nsalad-dhressin'. I obsarved the things all shtandin' ready an' I\nwhacked 'em up.\"\n\n\"Why, that was very kind of you, Kathleen,\" said Dorothy; \"it has helped\nme a great deal. Where are my rolls, Tessie?\"\n\n\"They was risin' too fast, miss,\" said Kathleen, entirely ignoring her\ndaughter's presence, \"an' I set 'em in the pantry forninst, to kape 'em\nback.\"\n\n\"Good for you, Kathleen! you're a jewel. I was afraid those things would\nget too light. Now, if you'll get them for me, I'll mould them over.\"\n\n\"Shure, I moulded them over, miss. They're all ready to bake, an' it's\nKathleen as'll bake 'em for ye.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Dorothy, laughing, \"there doesn't seem to be anything left\nfor me to do. Will you dress the salad, Kathleen?\"\n\n\"I will that, miss! Now don't bother yer purty head anny more about the\nsupper. Shure, it's Kathleen will attind to it all, intoirely. This\nshcapegrace, Tessie, will show me where things do be, an' yez needn't\nshow so much as the tip av yer nose, until it's all on the table.\"\n\n\"Kathleen, you're an angel in disguise, and not much disguised at that.\nNow look here, I'm very practical, and if you're going to stay here a\nweek, we may as well understand each other from the start. I'd be\ndelighted to leave this supper entirely in your hands; but are you sure\nthat you can do everything satisfactorily? I'm rather particular, as\nTessie can tell you, and to-night, I want everything especially nice,\nand well-served, in honor of my guests.\"\n\n\"Now, there's talk for ye! You're the right kind of a lady to wurruk\nfor. But, ye need have niver a fear; Kathleen'll do iverything jist as\nfoine as yersilf or yer lady grandmother cud be afther desirin'.\"\n\n\"Very well, Kathleen, I shall trust you with the whole affair then. You\ncan broil chickens, of course?\"\n\n\"To a turrn, miss.\" Kathleen's large face was so expressive as she said\nthis (and there was so much room on her face for expression), that\nDorothy felt no further doubts as to the chickens.\n\nShe ran from the kitchen, laughing, and joined the group on the veranda.\n\n\"I'm a lady of leisure,\" she announced gaily; \"that large and altogether\ndelightful piece of architecture, called Kathleen, insists upon cooking\nthe supper, over which I had expected to spend a hard-working hour.\"\n\n\"Jolly for Kathleen!\" exclaimed Leicester, throwing his cap high in the\nair, and catching it on his head; \"I do hate to have Dot working for her\nliving, while we're all enjoying ourselves.\"\n\n\"Jolly for Kathleen!\" echoed Jack Harris; \"the lady of magnificent\ndistances.\"\n\nAnd though Grandma Dorrance did not join audibly in the general hurrah,\nshe was no less glad that her pretty Dorothy was relieved from household\ndrudgery on that particularly merry occasion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nAN UNWELCOME LETTER\n\n\nThe week at the Dorrance Domain passed all too quickly, in the opinion\nof the happy young people.\n\nThere was so much to do, and every day seemed to bring new pleasures.\nThe weather was of the most beautiful June variety, and the lake was as\nsmooth as glass and most pleasant to ride upon.\n\nOne day they all went out in rowboats, and called themselves a regatta.\nAnother day, Captain Kane took them all for a sail in the _Mamie Mead_.\n\nBut perhaps the nicest outing of all, was the day they had a picnic on\nthe floating bridge. They carried their luncheon, and camped out on the\nbridge to eat it. Mr. Bill Hodges was delighted to grant them permission\nto do this, and brought them some fruit from his store as an addition to\ntheir feast.\n\n\"It's the strangest thing,\" said Edith Putnam, \"to be on the land and on\nthe water at the same time. Here we are, sitting on what seems to be\ngood solid grass and earth; and yet if you dug a hole in it, you'd\nstrike the lake right away.\"\n\n\"You'd strike logs first,\" corrected Jack Harris; \"but if you bored\nthrough the logs you'd come to the water.\"\n\n\"It's perfectly lovely to feel the little swaying motion,\" said May\nLewis, who in her quiet way was greatly enjoying the novel experiences.\n\"I shall hate to go back to the city. How I envy you, Lilian, with a\nwhole summer of this before you.\"\n\n\"But you're going away with your mother, next month, aren't you?\"\n\n\"Yes; but we'll be cooped up in one or two little rooms at some seashore\nplace; it is very different from having a whole hotel all to yourself.\"\n\n\"Indeed it is,\" said Dorothy; \"we certainly did the wisest thing when we\ncame up here this summer. And now that Kathleen is here, I have almost\nnothing to do in the kitchen, and the rest of the housework that I do\nhave to look after is so light that I don't mind it a bit.\"\n\n\"That's because you're so clever,\" said Edith, sighing; \"you're\nsystematic and orderly, and have everything arranged just so. I don't\nsee how you do it. I should forget half the things, and get the other\nhalf all mixed up.\"\n\n\"I believe you would,\" said Dorothy, laughing. \"And I did get somewhat\nmixed up at first. But I learned by experience, and besides I was just\n_determined_ that I would succeed. Because I proposed the whole scheme,\nand of course, I wanted it to be a success.\"\n\n\"And it is a success,\" returned Edith; \"and you have made it so. You\nhave lots of perseverance in your nature, Dorothy.\"\n\n\"It's nice of you to call it by that name,\" said Dorothy; \"but I think\nit's just stubbornness. I've always been stubborn.\"\n\n\"We all are,\" said Leicester; \"it's a Dorrance trait. Grandmother hasn't\nmuch of it, but Grandfather Dorrance was a most determined old\ngentleman.\"\n\n\"There's only one thing that's bothering me, about our good times,\" said\nDorothy. \"And that is, that grandma can't enjoy them as much as we do.\nShe doesn't care about going in the boats, and she can't take the long\nwalks that we can.\"\n\n\"It would be nice if you had a horse,\" said May; \"then she could go for\na drive sometimes.\"\n\n\"That would be lovely,\" agreed Dorothy; \"but I know we couldn't afford\nto buy a horse. We haven't very much money. That's the main reason we\ncame up here, because grandma said we couldn't afford to go to the\nplaces we used to go to.\"\n\n\"But you might hire a horse,\" suggested Jack; \"you have a barn.\"\n\n\"Yes, there is a small barn,\" said Leicester. \"I think it would be great\nto hire a horse; that wouldn't cost much, Dot.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dorothy, \"I don't believe it would. But who'd take care of\nthe horse, and who'd drive grandma around?\"\n\n\"Why, I can drive,\" said Leicester, \"or if grandma wouldn't trust me,\nMr. Hickox could drive her. He could take care of the horse, too.\"\n\n\"It's a good idea,\" said Dorothy; \"let's go and ask Mr. Hodges about it\nnow; he always knows about things of that sort.\"\n\nThe whole crowd scrambled to their feet, and ran gaily towards Mr.\nHodges' place. They were not surprised, when he declared he had just the\nthing for them. A fat, amiable old horse, who was well accustomed to the\nsteep mountain roads, and guaranteed perfectly safe; also a light\nroad-wagon that would hold four, and that was very easy and comfortable.\nHe would rent them this turn-out for ten dollars a week, and he declared\nthat they would find it most convenient; not only for pleasure drives,\nbut for going to market or other errands. Indeed, he said, that the\nproprietor who had last tried to run the hotel, had engaged that horse\nfor the season.\n\nIt struck Dorothy as a good plan; and being always quick at decisions,\nshe agreed then and there to take the horse and carriage for a week,\nsaying she felt sure that Grandma Dorrance would approve.\n\nLeicester said he would drive it home, and any of the girls who wished\nto, could go with him, the rest going back in the boats. Dorothy said\nshe would go with him, as she wanted to tell grandma about it herself.\n\nAs Fairy expressed a great desire to ride behind the new horse, she and\nGladys were tucked in the back seat, and they started off.\n\nSuch a ride as it was. The hills were very steep, \"perfectly\nperpendickle,\" Fairy called them, and if the old horse had not known\njust how to walk on the mountain roads, accidents might very easily have\nhappened.\n\nAs it was they reached home safely, and drove up triumphantly to the\nDorrance Domain where grandma and Mrs. Thurston were sitting on the\nveranda.\n\nAs the children had surmised, grandma was delighted with the opportunity\nto drive about, but said that she would feel safer if Mr. Hickox held\nthe reins.\n\nAs Mr. Hickox was never very far away, he had observed the horse's\narrival, and came over to inquire into the matter.\n\nThe explanation pleased him, and he said amiably, \"Don't worry.\nHickox'll look after the horse; it'll be all right.\"\n\nSo Grandma Dorrance arranged with Mr. Hickox, by an addition to the\npayment they made him for his various services, to take care of the\nhorse, and to drive them whenever they might require him to. Then she\nand Mrs. Thurston planned to go for a drive that very afternoon.\n\nAs the Dorrance children were fond of all animals, the horse at once\nbecame a great pet, and though the elder ladies never went out except\nwith Mr. Hickox, the young people went early and often, and both Dorothy\nand Leicester soon learned to be good and careful drivers.\n\nWith another diversion added to their catalogue of pleasures, the days\nflew by faster than ever, and although the guests stayed a fortnight\ninstead of only a week, everybody was sorry when the day came for them\nto depart.\n\n\"It has been all pleasure,\" said Dorothy, \"and not a bit of trouble; for\nyou all made yourselves so handy and helpful that it was just like one\nbig family.\"\n\n\"It has been a great treat to me,\" said Mrs. Thurston. \"I have enjoyed\nevery minute of it, and I have improved wonderfully in health and\nstrength. I think you are a wonder, Dorothy; not many girls of sixteen\nhave your powers of management. It is a gift, just as other talents are,\nand you not only possess it, but you have appreciated and improved it.\"\n\nDorothy blushed at Mrs. Thurston's kind praise, and inwardly resolved,\nthat since Mrs. Thurston considered her household capability a talent,\nshe certainly would endeavor to cultivate and improve it.\n\nSo the guests all went away, except Kathleen.\n\nShe begged so hard to be allowed to stay for a time longer, that Mrs.\nDorrance consented.\n\n\"Shure, it isn't the wages I do be afther wantin', mum, but I likes to\nshtay here, an' I'll do all the wurruk for me boord.\"\n\nThis seemed a fair arrangement, as Kathleen really wanted to stay with\nher daughter, and the Dorrances were very glad of the big woman's\nservices. She was an indefatigable worker, and really seemed to enjoy\nall sorts of hard work. She would rise early in the morning, and wash\nwindows or scrub floors before breakfast time. She was so capable and\nwilling, that it seemed as if she fairly took charge of the entire\nfamily; and she was so large and strong that no hard work baffled her,\nand no exertion tired her.\n\nAlthough the Dorrances naturally missed their guests, yet when they were\nalone again they were by no means lonely. They were a host in\nthemselves; the children were congenial and thought there was nobody\nquite so nice as each other.\n\nThe days went by happily, and each one only made them more glad that\nthey owned the Dorrance Domain and that they had come to live in it.\n\nIt was the third week in June when Grandma Dorrance received a letter\nfrom Mr. Lloyd, the contents of which were far from pleasant.\n\nShe called the children together in the great parlor, which they had\ncome to use as a living-room, and her pale face quite frightened\nDorothy.\n\n\"What is the matter, grannymother dear?\" she said. \"Has Mr. Lloyd found\nsome one who wants to rent the hotel, and must we vacate at once?\"\n\n\"Oh, don't mention such a calamity as that,\" cried Leicester; \"if a man\ncame up here to rent this hotel I should tell him to march right\nstraight back again. The house is engaged for the season.\"\n\n\"It's far worse than that, children dear,\" said grandma; \"Mr. Lloyd\ntells me in his letter that a great deal of repairing is necessary in\nthe Fifty-eighth Street house. This will cost a great deal of money, and\nI have not enough to pay the bills.\"\n\nMrs. Dorrance looked so pathetically helpless as she made this\nadmission, that Dorothy flew to her and kissed her, exclaiming, \"Don't\nworry, grandma dear, it must all come out right somehow, for you know we\nare saving money this summer.\"\n\n\"I'm not so sure of that, Dorothy; I'm afraid we've been rather\nextravagant of late. Having so much company for a fortnight, was really\nvery expensive; and the horse is an added expense, and the two\nservants,--and altogether I feel quite sure we have spent more money\nthan we could well afford.\"\n\n\"I never once thought of it, grandma,\" said Dorothy; \"I just ordered the\nthings that I thought it would be nice to have, and I didn't realize how\nthe bills would count up. Are they very big?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mrs. Dorrance. \"Mr. Hodges' bill is quite three times as\nmuch as I had allowed for it; and I owe Mr. Hickox as much more. He has\ndone a great deal of work for us, you know, and of course he must be\npaid.\"\n\n\"Oh, isn't it dreadful,\" said Lilian, \"to have our lovely summer spoiled\nby money troubles!\"\n\nAt this Fairy began to cry. The Dorrances didn't often cry, but when\nthey did, they did it quite as noisily as they did everything else; and\nFairy's manner of weeping, was to open her mouth as widely as possible\nin a succession of loud wails, at the same time digging her fists into\nher eyes.\n\nShe presented such a ridiculous picture that the children couldn't help\nlaughing.\n\n\"Do stop that hullaballoo, baby,\" implored Leicester, \"or we'll be so\nanxious to get rid of you that we'll offer you to Mr. Bill Hodges in\nsettlement of his account.\"\n\nFairy was not seriously alarmed by this awful threat, but she stopped\ncrying, because she had suddenly thought of a way out of the difficulty.\n\n\"I'll tell you how we can get some money,\" she said earnestly; \"sell the\nhorse!\"\n\nThe other children laughed at this, but Grandma Dorrance said gently,\n\"We can't do that, dear, for the horse isn't ours. We can't sell the\nhotel, for nobody seems to want it; so I can't see any way by which we\ncan get any money except to sell the Fifty-eighth Street house.\"\n\nThe children looked aghast at this, for it was their cherished dream\nsome day to return to the big city house to live. They didn't quite know\nhow this was to be accomplished, but they had always thought that when\nLeicester began to earn money, or perhaps if Dorothy became an author,\nthey would be able to return to the old home.\n\nAnd so Grandma Dorrance's announcement fell on them like a sudden and\nunexpected blighting of their hopes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nFINANCIAL PLANS\n\n\nDorothy felt it the most. As the oldest, she had the greatest sense of\nresponsibility, and she felt that she ought in some way to amend the\nfamily fortunes, but just how she did not know. She well knew how\ndifficult it is for a girl to earn any money without being especially\ntrained in some branch of usefulness; and she had often thought that she\nwould learn some one thing well, and so be prepared against a day of\nmisfortune. And now the day of misfortune had come, and she was not\nready for it. She could not bear to think of selling the town house; she\nwould far rather sell the hotel, but that, it seemed, was out of the\nquestion.\n\nLeicester, on the other hand, took a more cheerful view of the\nsituation.\n\n\"Oh, I don't believe we'll have to sell the house,\" he said. \"It isn't\nso bad as that, is it, grandma?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Leicester,\" said the old lady helplessly; \"I never did\nknow much about business matters, and now I feel more confused than ever\nwhen I try to straighten them out.\"\n\n\"But if we could just get through this summer, grandmother, when we go\nback to the city in the fall I feel sure I can get a position of some\nkind and earn a salary that will help us all out.\"\n\n\"You are a good boy, Leicester,\" said Mrs. Dorrance; \"but it is very\nuncertain about your getting a position; and too, I don't want you to\nleave school yet.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said Dorothy. \"It wouldn't be right for Leicester to leave\nschool at fourteen; and anyway, I think he ought to go through college.\nNow I am sixteen, and I have education enough for a girl. So I'm the one\nto get a position of some kind in the fall, and earn money to help\nalong.\"\n\n\"What could you do?\" asked Lilian looking at her sister. She had ample\nfaith that Dorothy could do anything she wanted to, and was merely\nanxious to know in which direction she would turn her talents.\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Dorothy, very honestly; \"skilled labor is the only\nthing that counts nowadays, and I'm really not fitted for anything. I\nwould like best to write things; but I don't believe anybody would buy\nthem,--at least, not at first. So I suppose the only thing that I could\ndo would be to go into a store.\"\n\n\"And sell candy?\" asked Fairy, with a dawning interest in the plan.\n\n\"Don't talk like that, Dorothy dear,\" said grandma, gently; \"of course I\nwouldn't let you go into a store, and also, I'm very much afraid that\nyour poetry wouldn't find a ready market. That may come later, but it\nwill probably be after years of apprenticeship.\"\n\n\"Well, something must be done,\" said Dorothy decidedly; \"and you can't\ndo it, grandma; so we children must. I think we are old enough now to\ntake the responsibility off of your shoulders; or at least to help you\nin these troubles.\"\n\n\"I wish you could, my dear child, but I fear there is no practical way\nby which we can raise the money that I must have, except to sell the\ncity house. It seems like a great sacrifice for a small reason; for you\nsee if we just had money enough to pay our living expenses this summer,\nI could manage, I think, to come out nearly even by fall. But there is\nno way to provide for our living this summer, that I can see.\"\n\n\"Now I'm getting a clearer understanding of the case,\" said Leicester;\n\"then if we children could earn money enough this summer to run the\nDorrance Domain, we'd come out all right?\"\n\n\"Yes, I think so, but how could you earn any?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said Leicester, \"but I've often read how other boys\nearned money,--and country boys, too. We might pick huckleberries and\nsell them, or we might raise a garden and sell things.\"\n\n\"Who would you sell them to?\" asked Lilian, who was always practical.\n\"Now I think a more sensible way would be to economize. Send away Tessie\nand Kathleen both; and then get along with fewer good things to eat. You\nknow we've had everything just as we wanted it, and I'm sure we could\ncut down our table expenses. Then we could give up the horse,--although\nhe is a dear----\"\n\nAt this Fairy's wails began again, for she was devotedly attached to old\nDobbin, the horse, and couldn't bear to think of parting with him.\n\n\"I think,\" said Grandma Dorrance, \"that we will have to ask Mr. Lloyd to\ncome up here and advise us; and then whatever he thinks best, we will\ndo.\"\n\n\"Don't you have to pay Mr. Lloyd for his advice?\" asked Dorothy,\nsuddenly struck by the thought of what seemed to her an unnecessary\nexpense.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mrs. Dorrance; \"that is, I pay him for attending to all of\nmy business, and of course that includes his advice.\"\n\n\"I suppose we couldn't get along without him,\" said Dorothy, sighing;\n\"but it does seem awful to pay him money that we need so much\nourselves.\"\n\nMrs. Dorrance had a happy faculty of deferring unpleasant things to some\nfuture time; and not worrying about them meanwhile.\n\n\"Well,\" she said, \"I will write to Mr. Lloyd to-morrow, and ask him to\ncome up here; or if he can't come, to write me a letter advising me what\nto do. And until he comes, or his letter comes, we can't do anything in\nthe matter, and there is no use worrying over it. I'd hate to discharge\nthe servants, for you girls couldn't get along without anybody to help;\nand if we keep Tessie, Kathleen is no added expense, for her work well\npays for her board.\"\n\nThis was not quite logical, but all were too miserable to notice it. For\nonce the Dorrances went up-stairs to their beds without any whoops or\nhurrahs for Dorrance Domain.\n\nAs they were going up the great staircase, Lilian offered another of her\npractical, if not very attractive suggestions.\n\n\"We could,\" she said, \"shut up the Domain, and all go to board with Mrs.\nHickox for the rest of the summer. I'm sure she'd take us quite\ncheaply.\"\n\nAt this Leicester started the old Dorrance groan, which had not been\nheard before since their arrival at Lake Ponetcong.\n\nThey all joined in heartily, and groaned in concert, in loud, horrible\ntones that echoed dismally through the long corridors.\n\nIt was characteristic of their different natures that Grandma Dorrance\nwent to bed, and immediately fell asleep in spite of her anxiety about\nher affairs; while Dorothy lay awake far into the night pondering over\nthe problem.\n\nShe could form no plan, she was conscious only of a dogged determination\nthat she would somehow conquer the existing difficulties, and\ntriumphantly save the day.\n\nShe thought of Lilian's practical suggestions, and though she admitted\nthem practical, she could not think them practicable. Surely there must\nbe some way other than boarding at Mrs. Hickox's, or living on bread and\ntea.\n\n\"At any rate,\" she thought to herself as she finally fell asleep,\n\"nothing will be done until Mr. Lloyd is heard from, and that will give\nme at least two or three days to think of a plan.\"\n\nBut try as she would, the next day and the next, no acceptable plan\nwould come into Dorothy's head.\n\n\"We are the most helpless family!\" she thought to herself, as she lay in\nthe hammock under the trees. \"There is positively nothing that we can\ndo, that's of any use. But I will do something,--I _will_! I WILL!\" and\nby way of emphasizing her determination she kicked her heel right\nthrough the hammock.\n\nThe other children did not take it quite so seriously. They were\nyounger, and they had a hazy sort of an idea that money troubles always\nadjusted themselves, and somehow got out of the way.\n\nLeicester and Dorothy talked matters over, for though younger, he\nconsidered himself the man of the house, and felt a certain\nresponsibility for that reason. But he could no more think of a plan\nthan Dorothy could, and so he gave the problem up in despair, and\napparently Dorothy did also.\n\nHowever, even a serious trouble like this, was not sufficient to cast\ndown the Dorrances' spirits to any great extent.\n\nThey went their ways about as usual; they rowed and fished and walked\nand drove old Dobbin around, while their faces showed no sign of gloom\nor depression. That was the Dorrance nature, to be happy in spite of\nimpending disaster.\n\nMr. Lloyd's letter came, but instead of helping matters, it left them in\nquite as much of a quandary as ever. He said that it would be impossible\nto sell the town house during the summer season. That the repairs must\nbe made, or the tenants would not be willing to stay. He advised Mrs.\nDorrance to retrench her expenses in every possible way, and stated\nfurther, that although the repairs must be made at once, it would not be\nnecessary to pay the bills immediately on their presentation.\n\nHe said that although he would be glad to run up to see them in their\ncountry home, he could not leave the city at present, but he might be\nable to visit them later on.\n\nAltogether it was not a satisfactory letter, and Leicester expressed\nopen disapproval.\n\n\"That's a nice thing,\" he said, \"to tell us not to pay our bills! As if\nwe wanted to live with a lot of debts hanging over our heads!\"\n\n\"I think it's lucky that we don't have to pay them right off,\" said\nDorothy; \"something may happen before we have to pay them.\"\n\nDorothy had a decided touch of the Micawber element in her nature and\nusually lived in the hope of something happening. And, to do her\njustice, it often did.\n\nTo the surprise of the others Fairy seemed very much impressed by the\ngravity of the situation, and more than that she seemed to think that it\ndevolved on her to do something to relieve it. She walked over to Mrs.\nHickox's to make her usual Wednesday visit, and though she skipped along\nas usual she was really thinking seriously.\n\nShe found Mrs. Hickox sitting on a bench under a tree paring apples, and\nFairy sat down beside her.\n\n\"Of course I'm only twelve,\" she began, \"but really I can do a great\nmany things; only the trouble is none of them seem to be remunerary.\"\n\nThe two had become great friends, and though Mrs. Hickox was a lady of\nuncertain affections, she had taken a great fancy to Fairy, and in her\nqueer way showed a real fondness for the child. She had also become\naccustomed to Fairy's manner of plunging suddenly into a subject.\n\n\"What is it you want to do now?\" she said.\n\n\"Well, you see,\" said Fairy, \"we've failed, or absconded, or something\nlike that; I don't know exactly all about it, but we're awful poor, and\nwe can't have anything more to eat. Some of us want to come to board\nwith you, and some of us don't. You see it's very complicrated.\"\n\n\"Yes, it seems to be,\" said Mrs. Hickox; \"but how did you get so poor\nall of a sudden? I always said you were all crazy and now I begin to\nbelieve it. Your grandmother----\"\n\n\"Don't you say a word against my grannymother!\" cried Fairy, with\nflashing eyes. \"She's the loveliest, best and wisest lady in the whole\nworld. Only somehow she just happened to lose her money, and so of\ncourse us children want to help her all we can, and I just don't happen\nto know what to do to earn money, that's all. And I thought you might\nknow some way to tell me.\"\n\n\"I don't believe there's anything a child of your age could do to earn\nmoney,\" said Mrs. Hickox. \"But now that I come to think of it, I did cut\nout a clipping just the other day, telling how to earn a good salary at\nhome.\"\n\n\"Oh, that will be just the thing!\" cried Fairy, dancing around in glee;\n\"I'd love to earn a big salary and stay right there at the Dorrance\nDomain to do it. Do try to find it.\"\n\nMrs. Hickox was in the habit of sticking away her clippings in various\nqueer places. She pulled out a bunch from behind the clock, and ran them\nover; \"How to Take Out Ink Stains,\" \"How to Wash Clothes in Six\nMinutes,\" \"How to Protect an Iron Lawn Fence,\" \"How to Stuff Birds,\nTaught by Mail,\" \"Sure Cure for Rheumatism,\" \"Recipe for Soft Soap.\"\n\nNone of these seemed to be what was wanted, so Mrs. Hickox hunted\nthrough another bunch which she took out of an old and unused teapot.\n\nFairy danced around with impatience while her hostess went through\nseveral collections.\n\n\"Oh, here it is,\" she said, at last, and then she read to the child a\nmost promissory advertisement which set forth a tempting description of\nhow any one might earn a large fortune by directing envelopes. The two\ntalked it over, and Fairy wrote for Mrs. Hickox a sample of her\npenmanship, whereupon the lady at once declared that the scheme was\nimpossible. For she said nobody could read such writing as that, and if\nthey could, they wouldn't want to.\n\nFairy's disappointment was quite in proportion to the vivid\nanticipations she had held, and she was on the verge of one of her\nvolcanic crying spells, when Mr. Hickox came in.\n\n\"Well, well, what's the trouble?\" he said in his cheery way, and when\nFairy explained, he responded:\n\n\"Well, well, little miss, don't you worry,--don't you worry one mite!\nHickox'll fix it. It'll be all right!\"\n\nAnd so comforting was this assurance, and so sanguine was the Dorrance\ntemperament, that Fairy felt at once that everything was all right, and\ndismissed the whole subject from her mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nA SUDDEN DETERMINATION\n\n\nOne afternoon, Dorothy sat on the front veranda, day-dreaming.\n\nIt was difficult to say which was the front veranda,--the one that faced\nthe road, or the one that looked out on the lake. The house could be\nconsidered to front either way.\n\nBut Dorothy was on the veranda that faced the road, and it was a lovely\nwarm, hazy day, almost the last of June, and notwithstanding her\nresponsibilities, Dorothy was in a happy frame of mind.\n\nShe watched with interest, a carriage that was coming along the road\ntowards her. It was nothing unusual in the way of a carriage, but there\nwas so little passing, that anything on four wheels was always\nnoticeable. This was a buggy, and contained a lady and gentleman who\nseemed to be driving slowly and talking fast.\n\nTo Dorothy's surprise, when they reached the entrance of the Dorrance\nDomain, they turned in, and drove up towards the house.\n\nAs they stopped in front of the steps, Dorothy rose to greet them; but\nthough courteous in manner, beyond bestowing a pleasant smile, they took\nno notice of her. The gentleman got out first, then helped the lady out,\nand after a blank look around for a moment, as if expecting somebody, he\nthrew his lines carelessly around the whip and escorted the lady into\nthe house.\n\nThe doors were all open as usual, and Dorothy was so amazed to see them\nwalk past her, that she said nothing.\n\nGrandma Dorrance was lying down in her room; the twins had gone out\nrowing, and Fairy was down at the dock with Mr. Hickox, fishing.\n\nThe two servants were far away in the kitchen, and so the strangers\nwalked through the great hall and out on the west veranda without seeing\nanybody.\n\nNonplussed, they returned to the office, and noted the unused look of\nthe desks and counters there.\n\n\"Where do you suppose the clerk can be?\" said the gentleman.\n\n\"Let us ask that young girl on the veranda,\" said the lady, and together\nthey returned to where Dorothy was sitting.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" said the strange gentleman, \"but can you tell me where I\nmay find the clerk of this hotel?\"\n\n\"There isn't any clerk,\" said Dorothy, smiling, as she rose to greet\nthem.\n\n\"Then will you tell me where I can find the proprietor?\"\n\nLike a flash, an inspiration came to Dorothy. She realized in an instant\nthat these people were looking for board; and equally quickly came the\nthought that she might take them to board, and so earn some of the money\nthat she had been worrying about. It would certainly be no more\ndifficult to have boarders than visitors.\n\nAnd so, on the impulse of the moment, Dorothy replied:\n\n\"I am the proprietor.\"\n\n\"But I mean the proprietor of the hotel,--the owner of the place.\"\n\n\"My grandmother is the owner of this hotel; and if anybody is proprietor\nof it, I am. May I ask if you are looking for board?\"\n\n\"Yes, we are,\" said the lady, impulsively; \"and if you are the\nproprietor, I'm quite sure we want board at this hotel.\"\n\n\"Will you sit down, and let us talk this matter over,\" said Dorothy,\noffering them veranda chairs. \"I would like to explain just how things\nare.\"\n\nThe strangers seated themselves, and looked at Dorothy with some\ncuriosity and a great deal of interest. It was certainly unusual to come\nacross a pretty girl of sixteen, who, in her ruffled lawn frock looked\nquite like the typical guest of a summer hotel, and then to be calmly\ntold that she was the proprietor.\n\nDorothy also looked with interest at her visitors. The man was tall and\nlarge, of perhaps middle age; his face was kind and serious, but a smile\nseemed to lurk in his deep blue eyes. The lady seemed to be younger,\nand was very pretty and vivacious. She had curly brown hair, and her\nbrown eyes fairly danced with fun at the idea of Dorothy as a hotel\nproprietor.\n\n\"You see,\" said Dorothy, as they all sat down, \"this hotel is my\ngrandmother's property; but as we couldn't rent it, we have all come\nhere to live for the summer. My grandmother is quite old, and not at all\nstrong, so the household management is entirely in my charge. I would be\nvery glad to take some boarders if I could satisfy them and make them\ncomfortable. I have never kept boarders, but,\" and here Dorothy's smile\nbrought out all her dimples, \"I have entertained company successfully.\"\n\n\"I should be delighted to come,\" exclaimed the lady, \"if you are quite\nsure you want us, and if your grandmother would not object.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, she would not object; the question is, whether I could make\nyour stay satisfactory to you. We have plenty of room; I could promise\nyou a good table and good service. But as there are no other guests,\nyou might be lonely.\"\n\n\"We are not afraid of being lonely,\" said the gentleman, \"for my wife\nand I are not dependent on the society of other people. But let me\nintroduce myself before going further; I am Mr. James Faulkner, of New\nYork City. Mrs. Faulkner and myself have been staying over at the Horton\nHouse, and that hotel is far too gay and noisy to suit our tastes. I'm a\nscientific man, and like to spend much of my day in quiet study. Mrs.\nFaulkner, too, likes to be away from society's demands, at least for a\nseason. Therefore I must confess your proposition sounds most\nattractive, if the minor details can be arranged.\"\n\n\"I am Dorothy Dorrance,\" Dorothy responded, by way of her own\nintroduction, \"and my grandfather was Robert Hampton Dorrance. He has\nbeen dead for two years, and he left us this hotel property, which as we\nhave been unable to rent, we decided to occupy. I would be glad to add\nto our income, and if you think you could be comfortable here, might we\nnot try it for a week?\"\n\n\"Oh, do let us try it,\" cried Mrs. Faulkner, eagerly; \"do say yes,\nJames,--this is such a lovely spot, and this hotel is quite the most\nattractive I have seen anywhere. Only fancy having no other guests but\nourselves! it would be ideal. Oh, we must certainly come! I will decide\nit; we will come for a week at any rate.\"\n\n\"Very well, my dear, you shall have your own way. May I ask your rates,\nMiss Dorrance?\"\n\nDorothy hesitated. She felt very inexperienced, and while she was\nfearful of over-charging, yet her practical instincts made her also\nbeware of undervaluing the accommodations she knew she could supply.\n\n\"I don't know,\" she said, frankly, \"what I ought to charge you. But you\nmay have the best rooms in the house, and,\"--here she smiled,\ninvoluntarily,--\"as many of them as you wish. We have a really superior\ncook, and an experienced waitress. We have boats, and a horse and\ncarriage, which you may use when you care to. As I know nothing of\nsummer hotel charges, I would be glad if you would tell me what you\nthink would be right for you to pay.\"\n\nDorothy's frank honesty, and her gentle refined courtesy made a most\nfavorable impression on Mr. Faulkner, and he responded cordially.\n\n\"For what you offer, Miss Dorrance, I think it would be fair if we\nshould pay you the same as we are now paying over at the Horton House;\nthat is, fifteen dollars a week, each, for Mrs. Faulkner and myself.\"\n\nDorothy considered a moment. She was a quick thinker, and she realized\nthat this amount of money would help considerably towards the living\nexpenses of the family. And the price could not be exorbitant since Mr.\nFaulkner offered it himself.\n\n\"That will be entirely satisfactory to me,\" she said, \"and I shall hope,\non my part, to satisfy you. When would you like to come?\"\n\n\"I'd like to come to-morrow,\" said Mrs. Faulkner. \"I've stood the Horton\nHouse just as long as I can. And our week is up to-morrow. But, excuse\nme, my dear, aren't you very young for these responsibilities?\"\n\n\"I'm sixteen,\" said Dorothy, \"and grandmother thinks my talents are of\nthe domestic order. But I could not undertake to have you here were it\nnot that our cook is not merely a cook, but a general manager and\nall-round housekeeper. And now, Mrs. Faulkner, if you really think of\ncoming, wouldn't you like to select your rooms?\"\n\nJust at this moment, Fairy came flying through the long hall at her\nusual break-neck pace, and landed turbulently in the midst of the group.\n\n\"Oh, Dorothy,\" she cried, \"we caught fish, and fish, and fish!\"\n\n\"This is my sister Fairy,\" said Dorothy, \"and I must explain, that when\nI said it would be quiet here, I neglected to mention that there are\nfour of us children; and the truth is we are dreadfully noisy at times.\nFairy, dear, this is Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner, who are perhaps coming to\nboard with us.\"\n\nWith the pretty politeness that always underlay the boisterousness of\nthe Dorrances, Fairy put out her hand to the strangers, saying: \"I'm\nvery glad to see you. Are you really coming to stay with us? You must\n'scuse me for rushing out like that, and nearly knocking you over, but I\nwas so 'cited about my fish.\"\n\nFairy always looked more than usually fairy-like when she was excited.\nHer gold curls tumbled about her face, and the big white bow which\ntopped them stood at all sorts of flyaway angles. She poised herself on\none foot, and waved her hands dramatically as she talked.\n\nMrs. Faulkner was charmed with the child, and being possessed of some\nartistic ability, she privately resolved to make a sketch of Fairy at\nthe first opportunity.\n\nThe two sisters escorted the guests through the hall, if Fairy's hop,\nskip and jump could be called an escort, and Dorothy showed them the\nlake view from the west piazza.\n\nMrs. Faulkner was enthusiastic over this, and declared that nothing\nwould induce her to stay anywhere else but at the Dorrance Domain.\n\nMr. Faulkner, too, was impressed by the beauty of the lake. It was\nalways most picturesque in the late afternoon, and just now the clouds,\nlit up by the western sun, were especially beautiful. The lake itself\nwas not calm, but was covered with smooth little hills of water, which\nhere and there broke into white foam.\n\nSome distance out, a boat could be seen, containing two people.\n\n\"That's my brother and sister,\" said Dorothy; \"they are twins. They are\nfourteen, and are perhaps the noisiest of us all. You see,\" she went on,\nsmiling, \"I'm preparing you for the worst. Grandmother had great\ndifficulty with the New York boarding-house keepers, because they\nthought the Dorrance children too lively. So I want you to be fully\nwarned that we do make a great deal of noise. Somehow we can't help it.\"\n\n\"We don't yell so much as we used to,\" said Fairy, hopefully; \"you see,\nMrs. Faulkner, when we used to be cooped up in a boarding-house we just\nhad to make an awful racket, 'cause we were so miserabubble. But here we\nhave room enough to scamper around, and so we don't holler so much.\"\n\n\"I rather think we can survive your demonstrations of animal spirits,\"\nsaid Mr. Faulkner, with his kindly smile. \"It will be a pleasant relief\nfrom the brass band which is the noise-producer over at the Horton\nHouse.\"\n\n\"We haven't any brass band,\" said Dorothy, suddenly realizing that they\nlacked many things popularly supposed to belong to a summer hotel.\n\n\"That's one reason why I want to come,\" said Mrs. Faulkner.\n\n\"I hope you will decide to come,\" said Dorothy; \"and now, if you will\nexcuse me a minute, I think I will ask my grandmother to come down and\nsanction our plan.\"\n\nLeaving the strangers to be entertained by Fairy, Dorothy ran up to her\ngrandmother's room and tapped at the door.\n\nA few moments served to explain matters to Mrs. Dorrance, and though a\nlittle bewildered by Dorothy's sudden proposal, she thought the plan a\ngood one, and went down prepared to give the strangers a cordial\nreception.\n\nThe Faulkners were much pleased with the gentle, gracious old lady, and\nMrs. Dorrance decided at a glance that the newcomers were sensible and\nkindly people.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nA DARING SCHEME\n\n\nThe more they talked over the matter the more it seemed a sensible and\nfeasible plan for all concerned. Mrs. Dorrance felt sure that with their\ntwo capable servants, and Mr. Hickox's varied usefulness, two boarders\nwould make no more responsibility for Dorothy than her five guests had.\n\nIt was therefore decided to try the plan for a week, and if both sides\nwere satisfied, to continue for the season.\n\nThen Dorothy took the strangers up to select their rooms, and Mrs.\nFaulkner was as delighted at the idea of choosing from so many empty\nrooms, as the Dorrances had been on the night of their own arrival.\n\nAgreeing to return the next day with their luggage, the Faulkners drove\naway, leaving the Dorrances in a high state of delighted excitement.\n\n\"You see,\" said Dorothy to her grandmother, \"something _has_ happened. I\nfelt sure it would, though of course, I had no idea it would be the\nFaulkners. But thirty dollars a week will help a lot, and I'm sure we\ncan make them have a good time. They're lovely people,--you can see that\nat a glance. Mrs. Faulkner is so sweet, I think I'd be willing to pay\nher just to sit around and smile at me.\"\n\n\"Instead of her paying you to let her do it,\" said grandma. \"But it is a\ngood plan, Dorothy; for now we can afford to keep Kathleen, and pay her\nfair wages, which I did not otherwise feel justified in doing.\"\n\n\"And Kathleen is a whole army of servants, all in one,\" said Dorothy.\n\"She'll be delighted at the idea of staying with us. I'll go and tell\nher about it now.\"\n\n\"I'll go, too,\" cried Fairy. \"I want to hear her talk.\"\n\nOut to the kitchen the two girls ran and noisily burst in upon Tessie\nand her mother.\n\nThe two Irish women were feeling rather blue, for Mrs. Dorrance had told\nthem that she could not afford to let them both stay with her, and she\nwas not sure that she ought to keep even Tessie.\n\n\"Arrah thin, darlints, yez'll be afther breakin' down the dures! Why\nmusht ye always come so shlam-bang?\"\n\n\"We can't help it, Kathleen,\" cried Dorothy; \"we're just made so, I\nguess. But this time we've something to tell you,--something important.\"\n\n\"Im-porrtant, is it? Sorra a good thing cud yez tell me, ixcipt that yer\nlady grandmother wud be afther lettin' me shtay here wid yez. Me an'\nTessie is afther grievin' sore at thoughts of lavin' yez.\"\n\n\"That's just it, Kathleen,\" screamed Fairy, who in her excitement and\nenthusiasm was scrambling up Kathleen's broad back. It was a favorite\ntrick of Fairy's to clamber up and perch herself on the big woman's\nshoulder, and the good-natured giantess assisted her with sundry\npushings and pullings.\n\n\"That's jist it, is it? Well thin yez naden't be afther tellin' me anny\nmore. Yez can kape the rist of yer importance to yersilves. If we can\nshtay up here, me and Tessie, we'll wurruk our finger ends off fer ye,\nwid no wages but a bite an' a sup.\"\n\n\"No, that won't do, Kathleen. Now just listen; we want to engage you as\ncook, and Tessie as waitress for the Dorrance Domain. It has become a\nhotel,--a regular summer hotel, and the boarders will arrive to-morrow.\"\n\n\"For the love of all the saints, miss! Is it boorders yez'll be afther\ntakin'? Shure, an' that's foine. And it's Kathleen as 'll cook fer yez.\nAn' Tessie, you young rascal, see to it that you wait on the table jist\ngrand! Do there be manny a-comin', miss?\"\n\n\"Two,\" replied Dorothy; \"and they're lovely people.\"\n\n\"Yes, lovely people,\" cried Fairy, who, still on Kathleen's shoulder,\nwas emphasizing her remarks by pounding Kathleen with her little fists;\n\"one is a great, big, lovely gentleman, with big, blue eyes, and\ngrayish-blackish hair. That's Mr. Faulkner. And his wife's a beautiful\nlittle lady, who smiles, and smiles, and smiles. Oh, they're scrumptious\npeople, and I expect they will stay all summer. Oh, Dorothy, the twins\nare coming! let's go and tell them!\"\n\nFairy sprang from Kathleen's shoulder to the table, and from there\nbounded to the floor, and grasping Dorothy's hand, the two ran away to\ntell the news, and met the twins on the veranda.\n\nLilian and Leicester were as glad as the rest to learn of the advent of\nthe Faulkners, and at once began to make plans for the comfort and\nentertainment of their boarders.\n\n\"I shall take Mr. Faulkner out fishing,\" said Leicester, \"and show him\nall the best spots to fish.\"\n\n\"I don't believe he'll care much for fishing,\" said Mrs. Dorrance. \"He\nseems to me to be so interested in his scientific work, that I imagine\nhe spends little time in recreation. I think that you'll all have to try\nto be a little quieter than usual, especially in the house.\"\n\n\"We will, granny dear,\" said Lilian; \"if we're going to keep boarders,\nwe're going to do it properly; I guess the Dorrances know when they can\ncut up jinks, and when they can't.\"\n\n\"Isn't it funny, though,\" said Leicester, \"to think of our living in\nthis hotel because nobody would rent it _as_ a hotel, and now here we\nare, running a hotel ourselves. I'm going to get out the big register,\nand clean up that inkstand thing, and have the office all in\nworking-order for them to register when they come to-morrow. Dorothy,\nyou can be proprietor, but I'll be the clerk; and then after they\nregister, I'll ring the bell for a bell-boy. And then I'll be the\nbell-boy. And then I'll send myself for a porter, and Mr. Hickox'll be\nthe porter. Oh, it'll be great!\"\n\n\"Shall we eat in the big dining-room?\" asked Lilian. \"It seems as if it\nwould be more like a hotel.\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said grandma; \"that immense room is too large for seven\npeople. The Faulkners seem very congenial, and I can't help thinking\nthey would prefer to sit at the round table with us. However, they\nmight prefer a table to themselves; so I think the best plan is to wait\nuntil they arrive, and ask them. In such matters we should be glad to\nmeet their wishes.\"\n\n\"I shall keep most systematic accounts,\" said Dorothy; \"and then I can\ntell just how much we make by having boarders. There are lots of blank\nbooks in the office, and I shall keep exact lists of everything I buy\nthis week, and then see how it balances up at the end of seven days.\"\n\n\"If you expect to make any money out of this scheme,\" said Leicester,\n\"you mustn't feed us all on the fat of the land, as you did when those\npeople were visiting here.\"\n\n\"No,\" said grandma; \"you can't do it, Dorothy. It is very pleasant to\nset dainty and tempting dishes before one's guests; but when it comes to\na practical business arrangement it is necessary to be careful in such\nmatters. I don't want you to be over-economical, but on the other hand\nyou cannot afford to be extravagant.\"\n\n\"If you're going to be a boarding-house keeper, Dot,\" said Lilian, \"you\nmust set a table exactly like Mrs. Cooper's!\"\n\nAt this speech, Leicester started the famous Dorrance groan, and its\nwails reached the ears of Mr. Hickox, who was sauntering near by in his\naimless, wandering fashion.\n\n\"Thought I'd just come over and see what you're yowling about,\" he said\npleasantly; \"those screeches are enough to kill all the fish in the\nlake!\"\n\n\"Come in, Mr. Hickox,\" cried Leicester; \"we have a grand plan on hand,\nand as usual we shall want your help.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" said Mr. Hickox, \"as usual. Hickox'll make it all right.\nWhat's up now?\"\n\n\"We expect boarders to-morrow; and when they come, we want you to be on\nhand to look after their trunks and things. The Dorrance Domain has\nsuddenly turned back into a hotel. Dorothy is proprietor, I'm clerk, and\nyou're to be the porter.\"\n\n\"What am I?\" said Lilian; \"I want a regular position.\"\n\n\"Oh, you can be the elevator boy, or the carriage-door opener,\nwhichever you like,\" said her brother.\n\n\"As we haven't any elevator, and our carriage hasn't any door, I won't\nbe over-worked.\"\n\n\"We girls will all have to be upper servants,\" said Dorothy; \"with so\nmuch extra work in the kitchen, we'll have to help a great deal as\nparlor-maids, and chambermaids, and dining-room maids.\"\n\n\"I'll sweep all the verandas every day,\" announced Fairy; \"I do just\nlove to fly around with that funny big broom-brush.\"\n\n\"Well, Hickox is yours to command,\" declared that genial gentleman;\n\"whatever you want Hickory Hickox to do, that's as good as done!\nExcepting, of course, such various times as I might be otherwise\nemployed. But I'll be porter all right, and I'll port them people's\ntrunks right up to their rooms so fast, they'll think I'm an elevator.\nMy! Mrs. Hickox, she'll be surprised to hear you people are going to\nhave boarders! I must say, I'm some surprised myself. Well I must\nshuffle along now, and I'll be on deck when you want me to-morrow.\nHickox will look after things. It'll be all right.\"\n\nAfter the ungainly figure had shuffled away, the children still\ncontinued to make plans and offer suggestions for the new arrangement.\n\n\"We must be very methodical,\" said Dorothy, who was much in earnest in\nthe matter, and who wanted to start out just right. \"Mrs. Faulkner is so\nnice and sweet, I want to please her; and, too, if the Dorrances run a\nhotel, I want it to be run on the most approved plan.\"\n\n\"We'll each have an account book,\" said Fairy; \"and I'll put down in\nmine, how many times I sweep the verandas each day.\"\n\n\"If you get around them all in one day, baby,\" said Leicester, \"you'll\ndo mighty well; and to do that, you'll have to get to work at daybreak\nand stick to it till sundown. There's an awful big number of square feet\nof veranda attached to this palatial mansion, I can tell you.\"\n\n\"Oh, pooh!\" cried Fairy. \"It won't take me all day, at all. I can fly\naround it in a minute. I'll work like a centripepede!\"\n\n\"We'll keep the horse for this week, anyway,\" went on Dorothy; \"for I\nshall have to go to market every morning, and it's so much quicker to go\nin the carriage than the boat. Sometimes you can go for me, Less, if I\nmake out an exact list of what I want.\"\n\n\"All right,\" said her brother; \"I don't think this keeping boarders is\ngoing to be such hard work after all. I wonder we didn't think of it\nsooner.\"\n\n\"I'm glad we didn't,\" said Dorothy; \"I think it was nicer to have a few\nweeks all by ourselves, first. We've got to behave when the Faulkners\nget here. It will be just like it was at Mrs. Cooper's, you know.\"\n\nThis time Fairy started the groan, and again they all chimed in with\nthose deep growling wails that always made Mrs. Dorrance clap her hands\nto her ears.\n\n\"For pity's sake!\" exclaimed the long-suffering old lady; \"don't make\nany reference to Mrs. Cooper while the Faulkners are here; for if they\nheard those fearful groans of yours, they'd leave at once.\"\n\n\"What's Mr. Faulkner like?\" asked Leicester; \"will he say, 'well, my\nlittle man,' to me?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dorothy, laughing at the remembrance; \"Mr. Faulkner is an\nawful nice man. Not very young, and not very old.\"\n\n\"Like Jack Sprat's pig?\" asked Leicester; \"not very little and not very\nbig.\"\n\n\"He isn't like anybody's pig!\" said Fairy, indignantly. \"He's a\ngentiliferous gentleman. I'm going to ask him to go to Mrs. Hickox's\nwith me. He's scientiferic, and I know he'd like to read her newspaper\nclippings.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't ask him to go just at first, Fairy,\" said grandma; \"wait\nuntil you get better acquainted.\"\n\n\"Well, anyhow? I'll take him to see the rabbits; he's sure to love them,\nthey're such cunning, pudgy-wudgy little things.\"\n\n\"And I'm sure he will like Dare,\" said Lilian, patting the head of the\nbig dog who lay at her feet.\n\n\"Such nice people as they seem to be, will surely like animals,\" said\ngrandma; \"but if they should not, then you must be very careful that\nthey are not annoyed by them. Dare will learn for himself whether he is\nliked or not; but if Mrs. Faulkner doesn't care for kittens you must\nkeep Mike out from under foot.\"\n\n\"I don't believe she'll care for kittens, so I'll take this one and\ndrown it now,\" said Leicester, picking up the ball of fluffy Maltese\nfur, and starting towards the lake.\n\nFairy ran after him, screaming in pretended anguish, though she well\nknew her brother was only joking, being almost as fond of the kitten as\nshe was herself.\n\nThe other two girls followed, and Dare followed them, and a general game\nof romps ensued.\n\nGrandma Dorrance watched them from the veranda, feeling glad for the\nthousandth time that her dear ones were in their own home, where they\ncould follow their own sweet will, without causing annoyance to any\none.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nREGISTERED GUESTS\n\n\nThe next day, true to her word, Dorothy made preparations for methodical\nand systematic hotel management.\n\n\"They may not stay more than a week; probably they won't,\" she said;\n\"but I don't want them to leave because the Dorrance Domain isn't run\nproperly as a summer hotel.\"\n\nThe children had looked upon the whole affair as a great joke; but\nseeing that there was a certain underlying current of seriousness in\nDorothy's attitude, they began to think that it was a business venture\nafter all.\n\n\"Shall we really ask them to register, Dot?\" inquired Leicester, who\ndidn't know quite how far the playing at hotel was to be carried.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dorothy; \"there is no reason why not; it can certainly do\nno harm, and it makes everything seem more shipshape. Have nice fresh\npens, ink and blotters, and put down the date and the number of their\nrooms when Mr. Faulkner signs. Don't laugh about it, but don't put on\nairs either; just be polite and businesslike.\"\n\n\"My, Dot, but you're a wonder!\" exclaimed Leicester, looking at his\nsister with admiration. \"Where did you learn all these things? Nobody\never registered at Mrs. Cooper's.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dorothy; \"but that was a city boarding-house; an altogether\ndifferent affair from a country summer hotel. It may be foolish, but I\nwant to try to treat the Faulkners just as they would be treated in any\nnice summer hotel.\"\n\n\"It isn't foolish at all,\" spoke up Lilian; \"it's just the right way to\ndo, and we'll all help. We must send a pitcher of ice-water to their\nroom every night.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, I never thought of that!\" exclaimed Dorothy, in dismay; \"why,\nwe haven't any ice.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Leicester, \"but fresh-drawn water from that deep well is\njust as cold as any ice-water. I'll make that one of my duties; I'm a\nbell-boy, you know.\"\n\n\"Another thing,\" went on Lilian, in her practical way, \"is the mail-box\nin the office. We must tell the Faulkners to put their letters in there,\nand they will be collected twice a day, and taken over to Woodville and\nmailed.\"\n\n\"Lilian, you're a trump!\" cried Dorothy; \"tell us more things like\nthat,--that's just what I mean. But we can't go to Woodville twice a\nday!\"\n\n\"I think once a day will be enough,\" said Leicester; \"we'll take the\ncontents of the mail-box every morning when we go over for the\nmarketing.\"\n\n\"I shall write to Gladys Miller every day,\" said Fairy; \"so you'll\nalways have something to take; maybe the Faulkners don't have so very\nmuch corresponderence.\"\n\nAll four of the children went to market that morning. Leicester drove\nthem over, and so much chattering and planning did they do on the way,\nthat the two miles distance seemed very short.\n\nDorothy felt the responsibility of ordering just the right things for\nher table. She realized that she must begin on just the same scale on\nwhich she expected to continue through the week. She must not be too\nlavish, for since her aim now was to earn money, she must be fair and\njust, rather than generous.\n\nAlways sensible and capable, Dorothy seemed suddenly possessed of a new\nsort of self-reliance; and the responsibility which she had voluntarily\nand gladly accepted, seemed to bring with it the executive ability which\npromised success.\n\nMr. Bill Hodges was delighted to hear the news of boarders at the\nDorrance Domain. He possessed that trait, not altogether unusual in\nstorekeepers, of desiring to sell his wares. During the fortnight that\nthe Dorrances had entertained company, he had reaped a golden harvest,\nand, as since then Dorothy's demand on his stock had been much more\nmodest, he now rejoiced in the anticipation of further extravagant\norders.\n\nHe was greatly surprised then, when Dorothy, instead of lavishly\npurchasing whatever struck her fancy, regardless of its price, began to\ninquire the cost of things, and showed a decided leaning towards thrift\nand economy.\n\n\"Ain't goin' to starve them folks, be you?\" he asked, as Dorothy\nhesitated between the relative merits of lettuce and tomatoes.\n\n\"I hope not,\" said Dorothy, politely, for she knew Mr. Bill Hodges\npretty well by this time, and so did not resent what she knew was not\nmeant as a rudeness. \"When our house was last run as a hotel, did they\nbuy their provisions from you?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am, they did;\" and a shade more of respectful deference crept\ninto the voice and manner of Mr. Bill Hodges, as he instinctively\nrealized the touch of added dignity in Dorothy's demeanor. \"Mr. Perkins,\nhe used to do the marketin', and gracious snakes! but he calc'lated\nclose. He give his boarders just enough to keep them alive and no more.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't want to be quite so mean as that,\" said Dorothy; \"but on\nthe other hand, I can't afford to treat my boarders quite as I would\nlike to entertain my guests.\"\n\n\"That's right, that's right!\" exclaimed Mr. Bill Hodges, whose own\nshrewd business mind readily recognized similar qualities in another.\n\"That's right; treat 'em good, but not too good.\"\n\nThis phrase fastened itself in Dorothy's mind, and she determined to\ntake for her line of action all that was expressed in Mr. Bill Hodges'\nhomely phrase, \"Treat'em good, but not too good.\"\n\nTheir purchases satisfactorily completed, the children jogged back home\nover the rough, steep hill, and even old Dobbin seemed to realize that\nhe was now part of the establishment of a first-class summer hotel.\n\nThat afternoon the Faulkners arrived.\n\nEverything was in readiness, and perhaps no hotel proprietor ever took\ngreater pride in the general appearance of his hostelry, than did\nDorothy Dorrance, as, arrayed in a fresh white muslin, she stood on the\neast veranda watching a lumbering stage drawing nearer and nearer to the\nDorrance Domain.\n\nAnd surely no typical hotel clerk, even though decorated with the\ntraditional diamond pin, could show a more faultless array of\nofficial-looking desk-furnishings.\n\nThe Horton House stage rolled slowly up the driveway, and stopped at the\nmain entrance. Mr. Hickox was on hand to open the stage door, and look\nafter the hand luggage.\n\nWith an instinctive grasping of the situation, both Mr. and Mrs.\nFaulkner appreciated Dorothy's frame of mind, and acted precisely as if\nthey were entering a hotel run on regulation lines.\n\nAs Dorothy led the way to the office, Mrs. Faulkner looked at her\ncuriously. It was strange to see a girl, so young and pretty, so\ngraceful and well-bred, yet possessed of a certain quality which could\nonly be designated by the term, \"business instinct.\" She marveled at\nDorothy's poise, which, however, showed no trace of awkwardness or\npertness.\n\nMrs. Faulkner was fond of character study, and felt convinced at once\nthat she would greatly enjoy a better acquaintance with Dorothy\nDorrance.\n\nAt the office, Leicester showed the newcomers the same quiet, polite\ncourtesy. The boy had a frank, straightforward air that always impressed\nstrangers pleasantly. He turned the register around towards Mr.\nFaulkner, and offered him an already-inked pen, with an air of being\nquite accustomed to registering guests.\n\nBut Leicester's sense of humor was strong, and the absurdity of the\nwhole thing struck him so forcibly, that it was with great difficulty he\nrefrained from laughing outright. Had he glanced at Dorothy, he\ncertainly would have done so; but the two were fully determined to play\ntheir part properly, and they succeeded.\n\nNor was Mr. Faulkner to be outdone in the matter of correct deportment.\nHe gravely took the pen offered to him, signed the register in the place\nindicated, and inquired if they might go at once to their rooms.\n\n\"Certainly,\" said Leicester, touching the bell on the desk. The\nubiquitous Hickox appeared with the hand-bags, and Leicester handed him\nthe keys.\n\nThis touch nearly finished Dorothy, for numbered keys seemed so very\nlike a real hotel, that it struck her as quite the funniest thing yet.\n\nAs the Faulkners, following Mr. Hickox, went up the great staircase and\ndisappeared around the corner, Leicester flew out from behind his desk,\ngrasped Dorothy's hand, and fleetly, though silently, the two ran\nthrough the long parlor to one of the smaller rooms, shut the door, and\nthen burst into peals of laughter.\n\nFor a moment they would pause, begin to speak to each other, and then go\noff again into choking spasms of hilarity.\n\nHad they only known it, their two guests on the floor above, were doing\nalmost the same thing. Mrs. Faulkner had thrown herself into an easy\nchair, and was laughing until the tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr.\nFaulkner, who was by nature a grave gentleman, was walking up and down\nthe room, broadly smiling, and saying, \"Well upon my word! well upon my\nword!\"\n\nBefore Dorothy and Leicester had recovered their equilibrium, the two\nyounger girls came rushing into the room where they were.\n\n\"Did they come? Are they here? What is the matter? Do tell us all about\nit!\"\n\nDorothy, in her idea of the fitness of things had asked Lilian and Fairy\nto keep out of sight until after the arrival and registration had been\nsafely accomplished; grandma, it had also been thought best, was not to\nappear until dinner-time. As Dorothy had expressed it, she knew the\nproper propriety for a proprietor, and she proposed to live up to it.\n\nBut of course when Fairy and Lilian, on the west veranda, heard the\ncommotion in the small parlor, they could restrain their curiosity no\nlonger, and insisted on being told all about it.\n\nSo Dorothy and Leicester calmed down a little, and assured them that the\nwhole thing had passed off beautifully; that the arrival had been a\nhowling success, and that Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner were now established\nboarders at the Dorrance Domain.\n\nThen Dorothy went out to the kitchen to superintend carefully the\npreparations for dinner. She had decided that since the Dorrance Domain\nhad become a hotel, it was proper to have dinner at night, and luncheon\nin the middle of the day.\n\nOnce over the comical farce of registering, the advent of the Faulkners\ntook on an aspect not entirely humorous, and Dorothy's sense of serious\nresponsibility came back to her. Kathleen, too, with her native Irish\nwit realized the gravity of the occasion, and went about her duties in a\nsteady, capable way that greatly helped to reassure Dorothy.\n\nAnd indeed, matters seemed to be progressing most smoothly. The dinner\nwas well under way, and the table daintily set.\n\nFairy had brought flowers from Mrs. Hickox's garden, and she and Lilian\nhad decorated the table and the dining-room. Dorothy had concluded that\nthey would all sit together at the round table that night, and then if\nthe Faulkners preferred a table to themselves, it could be arranged\nlater.\n\nAfter a careful supervision, Dorothy left the dinner in charge of her\nreally competent cook and waitress, and went back to the family. She\nfound them all on the west veranda, where they usually congregated at\nsunset time.\n\nWith them were the Faulkners; and in a pretty summer house-gown, Mrs.\nFaulkner looked so sweet and dainty, that Dorothy felt more than ever\nattracted to her. Mr. Faulkner was engaged in a pleasant conversation\nwith Grandma Dorrance; and Dorothy suddenly felt that to be the\nproprietor of a summer hotel was just the nicest thing a girl could do.\n\n\"You've no idea,\" Mrs. Faulkner was saying, as Dorothy came out, \"what a\ndelightful change this is from the noise and glitter of the Horton\nHouse. This lovely great veranda, and the beautiful view of the lake,\nwith no inharmonious elements, makes me feel glad I'm alive.\"\n\n\"I'm glad you are alive, too,\" said Dorothy, smiling at the lady; \"and\nI'm glad you live here.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nAMBITIONS\n\n\nIt was truly astonishing, even to Dorothy, how easily the machinery of a\nbig hotel could be made to move along. The Dorrances all agreed that the\nFaulkners were no trouble at all, and that their presence in the\nDorrance Domain added greatly to the happiness of all concerned.\nDoubtless the explanation of this lay in several different facts. To\nbegin with, the Faulkners were most charming people; refined, tactful,\nand kind-hearted. It was their nature to make as little trouble as\npossible, wherever they might be.\n\nOn the other side, Dorothy's determination to succeed in her enterprise,\ngrew with what it fed upon, and she became day by day more capable\nthrough experience. Also, she was ably assisted by Leicester and the\ngirls, who were always ready to do anything she wished them to. Then,\nthe servants were certainly treasures, and as Dorothy said, it would be\na perfect idiot of a hotel proprietor who couldn't succeed under such\nadvantages as she had.\n\nWith her success her ambitions grew.\n\nAgain sitting on the east veranda, one afternoon, she found herself\nwishing that another buggy would drive up and deposit two more such\npeople as the Faulkners at her hotel office. If she could succeed with\ntwo, why not with four, or even six?\n\nIndeed, in her imagination she saw a long procession of buggies bringing\neager guests to the hospitality of the Dorrance Domain.\n\nActing on an impulse, she went in search of Mrs. Faulkner, and found\nthat lady just coming down-stairs, dressed for afternoon, and quite\nready for a chat.\n\nSo Dorothy carried her off to one of her favorite nooks which was a\nlittle vine-clad arbor on the east lawn.\n\nThis proprietor and guest had become firm friends in the few days they\nhad been together. Dorothy admired Mrs. Faulkner's lovely gracious\ndisposition, and her clever cultivated mind. Mrs. Faulkner saw great\npossibilities in Dorothy's character and took a sincere interest in the\ngirl. Aside from this there was that subtle, inexplicable bond of\nsympathetic congeniality, which makes a real friendship possible.\n\n\"I want to talk to you seriously,\" said Dorothy.\n\n\"I'm all attention,\" said Mrs. Faulkner; \"proceed with your\nseriousness.\"\n\n\"You and Mr. Faulkner have been here a week to-morrow,\" Dorothy went on,\n\"and----\"\n\n\"And you can't stand us any longer,--and you want to break it to me\ngently?\"\n\n\"No, indeed, nothing of the sort! and you know that well. But I want to\nask you frankly, and I want you to tell me honestly, how I have\nsucceeded this week in what I have undertaken.\"\n\n\"What have you undertaken?\" said Mrs. Faulkner, who dearly loved to make\nDorothy formulate her thoughts.\n\n\"Why, I undertook to give you and Mr. Faulkner, in a general way, and so\nfar as I could, just such comforts and accommodations as you would get\nat the average summer hotel.\"\n\n\"Is that all you tried to do?\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Dorothy, speaking slowly, and thinking hard, \"I think I\ntried to give you a little bit extra, in the way of home comforts and\ndainty service, to make up for the things that the average summer hotel\nprovides, but which I can't give you.\"\n\n\"Like a brass band, for instance.\"\n\n\"Yes, a brass band, and a great array of bell-boys and porters, and\nSaturday night hops, and,--lots of things like that.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mrs. Faulkner, \"to tell you the truth, I don't care two\nstraws for brass bands, or Saturday night hops; and Mr. Faulkner doesn't\neither. We are both charmed with this place, and we are both absolutely\nhappy and comfortable. So, if you are willing, we are quite ready to\nprolong our stay indefinitely. Mr. Faulkner enjoys the quiet and freedom\nfrom interruption, while he is pursuing his scientific studies. And as\nfor myself, I want to get well rested this summer, for during the\nwinter, my city life is very full of gayety and excitement.\"\n\n\"I'm so glad you are satisfied,\" said Dorothy, earnestly; \"for this was\nan experiment, and I was so anxious it should succeed. Of course, on my\nside it is more than satisfactory. You and Mr. Faulkner are ideal\nboarders; you make no trouble at all, and you have helped me in lots of\nways by your advice and suggestions. Now I want to ask your advice some\nmore. You know what I can do,--you know the house, and all,--do you\nthink, if I could get them, I could take two or three more boarders?\"\n\n\"Do _you_ think you could?\" asked Mrs. Faulkner, smiling at Dorothy's\neager face.\n\n\"Yes, I think so; but sometimes, you know, I'm apt to overrate my own\nability. I could do the work all right,--or have it done,--but I'm not\nsure whether I could manage to satisfy people who might not be so lovely\nand amiable as you and Mr. Faulkner are. And another thing, I wouldn't\nwant any more boarders if it would bother or annoy you two the least\nmite.\"\n\n\"Why do you think you would like to have more?\"\n\n\"Because, Mrs. Faulkner, I want to earn more money. Grandmother is\nbothered with her financial affairs, and if we children could help her\nany, we'd all be so glad. You see we are an awful expense to her; but\nsoon, I hope we'll be old enough to earn money for her instead. Now of\ncourse to have two boarders is a good help towards the living expenses\nof our own family; and I've counted up, and I think if I could have\nfour, it would almost entirely pay our running account. And if I had\nsix, I think we might begin to save money. Oh, Mrs. Faulkner, do you\nthink we could do it?\"\n\n\"Where would you get these boarders?\"\n\n\"I don't know; but I thought I would ask you first, and see if you\nobjected to having other people here. And then, if you didn't, I thought\nperhaps I'd write to some of my friends in the city, and see if any of\nthem wanted to come up for a few weeks.\"\n\n\"You are a brave little girl, Dorothy,\" said Mrs. Faulkner, looking into\nthe eager anxious eyes upturned to hers; \"and I must tell you how much\nI appreciate your love for your grandmother, and your courage and pluck\nin taking up this burden of the family fortunes. I have watched you\nthrough the week, and I have noticed your many little self-denials and\nyour unfailing patience and perseverance. _I_ know who walked over to\nWoodport and back yesterday in the hot sun, in order that I might have\ncream for my peaches last night at dinner.\"\n\n\"Oh, how did you know?\" cried Dorothy, blushing at her friend's praise;\n\"but there was really nobody to send,--the children had been on several\nerrands,--and so I just went myself.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know it; and that is only one instance that shows your\ndetermination to have things right. And with that plucky perseverance of\nyours, and with your pleasant house, and good helpers, I see no reason\nwhy you shouldn't take a few more boarders if you can get the right\nkind. Of course it wouldn't annoy Mr. Faulkner nor myself to have some\nother people here; and even if it did, we would have no right or wish\nto stand in your way. When you reach the stage of brass bands, and\nSaturday hops, that will be time for us to leave you, and push on into\nthe wilderness.\"\n\n\"You needn't begin to pack your things to-day,\" said Dorothy, smiling,\n\"as it isn't at all likely I can persuade anybody to come,--let alone a\nbrass band.\"\n\n\"Suppose I present you with two more guests,\" said Mrs. Faulkner.\n\n\"Oh,\" cried Dorothy, \"do you know of anybody? Who are they?\"\n\n\"You may not like them altogether. They are two ladies who are now over\nat the Horton House. They are not enjoying it there, and they asked me\nto let them know if I found any place which I thought they would like.\nI'm sure they would like it here, and I know they would be glad to come;\nbut, to be honest about it, they are a little fussy in some ways. They\nare spinsters, from Boston, and though they are refined and well-bred\nladies, they are sometimes a little exacting in their requirements.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't mind what their requirements were, if I could meet them to\ntheir satisfaction.\"\n\n\"You mustn't take that stand too strictly, Dorothy dear; it is well to\ntry to give your guests satisfaction, but some requirements are\nunreasonable, and it is a mistake to grant them. If these ladies come,\nyou must exercise your judgment in your treatment of them, for they're\nthe kind who are quite likely to impose on your good nature.\"\n\n\"Do you think they would come? How can I find out about them?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'm sure they would come; and if you wish me to, I will write to\nthem.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you; I wish you would, please; that is, after I have spoken\nto grandma, and to the other children about it. What are their names?\"\n\n\"Van Arsdale. Miss Marcia and Miss Amanda. They are quite as imposing as\ntheir names sound; but you need not be really afraid of them. Remember\nthe Faulkners will always protect you from their ferocity.\"\n\nDorothy laughed; and kissing her good friend, ran away to find the\nother children. Having gathered them together, they all went up to\nGrandma Dorrance's room for a caucus.\n\n\"It's a new plan!\" exclaimed Dorothy, perching herself on grandma's\nbureau. As a rule, the more excited the Dorrances were, the higher seats\nthey selected. At present the twins were sitting on the headboard of the\nbed, and Fairy was making unsuccessful endeavors to climb up on the\nmantelpiece.\n\nGrandma Dorrance, well accustomed to these gymnastics, sat in her easy\nchair, and placidly awaited Dorothy's further announcement.\n\n\"You see,\" Dorothy went on, \"we've made, and we are making a great\nsuccess of our boarders. I've just had a talk with Mrs. Faulkner and\nshe's quite satisfied; and goodness knows _we_ are.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Fairy, from a heap of sofa-pillows into which she had just\ntumbled, \"I do think they are the loveliest people. Why, Mr. Faulkner\nsays he's going to send to New York for a book, a-purpose for me. It's a\nlovely book, all about bugs and slugs and ear-wigs. We went walking\nyesterday, and he showed me the funny little houses where beetles and\nthings live in. Oh, he _is_ a nice man!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dorothy, starting afresh; \"it's a great success all around;\nand therefore, my beloved brethren, this is my plan. If two boarders are\ngood, four boarders are twice as good; and so, what do you think of\ntaking two more guests into our hotel?\"\n\n\"At the same rates?\" asked Lilian.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dorothy, \"at the same rates. Just think! that will give us\nsixty dollars a week income, and it won't cost us much more than that to\nlive, even with four boarders.\"\n\n\"Hooray!\" cried Leicester, flinging a pillow up in the air, and catching\nit on his head, \"hooray for the great financier! proprietor of the\nDorrance Domain!\"\n\nThis was followed by a series of ear-splitting cheers; a performance in\nwhich the Dorrances had indulged but seldom during the past week; but\njust now the occasion really seemed to demand it.\n\n\"Who are your millionaire friends?\" asked Leicester, \"and when do they\narrive?\"\n\n\"Oh, they don't know yet themselves, that they're coming,\" said Dorothy,\nairily; \"and they're two ladies, and their name is Van Arsdale, and\nthey're very aristocratic, and they want to be waited on every minute,\nand I'm sure they won't want any of us to make a speck of noise while\nthey're here.\"\n\nA long low growl from Lilian, started the Dorrance groan, and the other\nthree joined in with such force and energy, that the next day Mr.\nFaulkner inquired privately of grandma the meaning of the fearful sounds\nhe had heard the day before.\n\nWhen they were quiet again, Dorothy explained the whole thing\nrationally, and they were all much pleased with her plan.\n\nGrandma feared that the added responsibility would be too much for her\noldest granddaughter; but the rest all promised to help, and the girls\nagreed that they could do even more of the parlor and dining-room work,\nand so give Tessie more time to help Kathleen in the kitchen.\n\n\"I suppose the Van Arsdale ladies will register,\" said Leicester, with a\nsudden remembrance of his last experience as a clerk.\n\n\"Yes, of course,\" said Dorothy; \"and we mustn't giggle this time,\neither. I'm not at all sure they'll come, but I hope they will; and of\ncourse, if they do they must be received properly.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHE VAN ARSDALE LADIES\n\n\nThe Van Arsdale ladies did decide to come. On the receipt of Mrs.\nFaulkner's note they concluded that the Dorrance Domain was just the\nplace for them, and they immediately began to make preparations for\nleaving the Horton House.\n\n\"Though it's a very queer thing, Amanda,\" the elder Miss Van Arsdale\nsaid to her sister, \"it's a very queer thing for a young girl to be\nproprietor of a hotel. I must confess I don't understand it. And I'm not\nsure I want to be mixed up with any such ridiculous doings.\"\n\n\"But Mrs. Faulkner says that it's all right; and that we four will be\nthe only boarders. That seems to me very exclusive. You know the\nFaulkners are all right,--her mother was a Frelinghuysen. I'm not afraid\nto risk it, as long as they recommend it.\"\n\n\"Well, we'll try it for a week, as Mrs. Faulkner advised; and if we\ndon't like the girl proprietor, we won't have to stay any longer.\"\n\n\"I don't know what she can be, I'm sure. She can't be of our kind.\"\n\nJudging from the effect presented to the eye, the Van Arsdale ladies and\nDorothy Dorrance were not of the same kind.\n\nThey were both elderly spinsters of the type that looks older than it\nreally is, yet tries to seem younger. They were tall and spare with high\ncheek bones, and aquiline, aristocratic noses. These noses seemed to\nturn up at everything; and though literally they didn't turn up at all,\nyet the effect of turning up was always there. Their large, light blue\neyes were capable of a powerful and penetrating gaze, that was apt to be\nextremely disconcerting to the object of their stare. Both ladies had\nreally beautiful hair of a soft, gray color, which they wore rolled over\nhigh pompadours. They were wealthy, and though economical and even\npenurious in some respects, each possessed an inordinate love of dress,\nand was willing to spend large sums for gorgeous fabrics made up in the\nlatest styles. The incongruity of these middle aged and far from\nbeautiful spinsters, trailing around soft exquisite robes of dainty\ncoloring, and exquisitely made, afforded much scope for wonderment and\ncuriosity wherever they went.\n\nBut the sisters cared little or nothing for the comments passed upon\nthem. They bought their clothes, and wore them, purely for their own\nselfish enjoyment; and met with stares of cold contempt, the\nhalf-sarcastic praises offered by some daring ladies at the hotel.\n\nThe day that the Van Arsdales were expected at the Dorrance Domain,\nDorothy and Leicester were prepared to receive them as they had the\nothers. Lilian and Fairy were allowed to witness the performance this\ntime, on the strict conditions that they were not to laugh, and none of\nthe four were to look at each other.\n\nAnd so when the Horton House stage came over for the second time,\nGrandma Dorrance, the three Dorrance girls, and the two Faulkners were\non the veranda, while Leicester stood nobly at his post in the office.\n\nMr. Hickox appeared duly, and made everything all right as usual. But\nwhen he assisted the Van Arsdale ladies out of the stage, he remarked to\nhimself that his wife would certainly be surprised if she could see them\ndresses.\n\nThe elder Miss Van Arsdale wore a silk of the exquisite shade known as\npastel blue; it was made with a jaunty little jacket, opening over an\nelaborate white lace waist. A long gold chain hung around her neck, from\nwhich depended innumerable lockets, charms, pencils, purses and\nvinaigrettes, in a bewildering array. Her blue hat was decked with white\nostrich plumes, and though Dorothy had been prepared by Mrs. Faulkner\nfor this display, yet she had not expected quite such a gorgeous\nspectacle.\n\nMiss Amanda Van Arsdale followed her sister; she wore a liberty silk\ngown of an old rose color, and a hat with long black ostrich feathers.\nShe wore no necklace, but from her belt was suspended a large square bag\nmade entirely of overlapping plates of gold, in which doubtless she\ncarried the various impedimenta that her sister exhibited.\n\nThough over-elaborate, these costumes were made in the latest fashion,\nand they looked like beautiful and costly gowns, which by some absurd\nmistake had been put on the wrong wearers.\n\nThe two advanced with a haughty and somewhat supercilious air, and Mr.\nand Mrs. Faulkner rose to greet them. Introductions to the Dorrances\nfollowed, and then Miss Van Arsdale raised her _lorgnon_, and treated\nDorothy to a prolonged inspection.\n\n\"And you are the proprietor of this hotel?\" she said.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dorothy, smiling; \"I am.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Miss Van Arsdale, \"you can't fool me. You look to me quite\ncapable of being the proprietor of anything.\"\n\nAnd somehow, in spite of her peculiar appearance and her brusque ways,\nDorothy felt at once a decided liking for Miss Marcia Van Arsdale.\n\nMrs. Faulkner gave a little nod of satisfaction as she saw the good\nunderstanding between these two, and Mr. Faulkner said, genially:\n\n\"Yes, we think our proprietor a very capable young woman.\"\n\nThen Dorothy ushered the ladies in to the office and paused at the desk.\n\nLeicester confessed afterwards that he almost fell off his stool when he\nsaw Dorothy bringing in two Birds of Paradise, with their feathers\nfreshly painted. But at the time he preserved a straight face, and\npolitely offered the register and the pen.\n\nMiss Marcia, in a bold, dashing hand, signed for them both, and then\nDorothy went herself to their rooms with them,--the faithful Hickox\nbringing up the rear.\n\nOn reaching the rooms, Dorothy offered to assist the ladies in removing\ntheir hats and veils, but Miss Marcia only stared at her. \"Send me a\nmaid,\" she said; \"a lady's maid.\"\n\nThen Dorothy, who was acting under Mrs. Faulkner's direction, said\nquietly:\n\n\"Miss Van Arsdale, this is not a fully equipped hotel, and we do not\nhave ladies' maids. The chambermaid, Tessie, will attend to your rooms,\nand such outside service as you may require. Also, my sisters and I will\nbe glad to help you occasionally, as we often help one another. But a\nregular ladies' maid to assist at your toilet, we cannot provide. May I\nhelp you unpin your veil?\"\n\nMiss Marcia Van Arsdale looked at Dorothy again through her glasses.\n\n\"You're the right sort,\" she said, \"and I like your plain speaking. I'm\nplain-spoken myself. We'll get along all right, and I shall send for my\nparrot.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" exclaimed Dorothy, \"have you a parrot?\"\n\n\"Yes, a very beautiful and valuable bird. But I never take her anywhere,\nuntil I know just what sort of a place it's going to be. I shall send\nfor her to-morrow.\"\n\nNot knowing the high esteem in which Miss Van Arsdale held her parrot,\nDorothy did not fully appreciate the magnitude of this compliment. So\nshe merely said, \"We shall be very glad to welcome Polly.\"\n\n\"I do not allow her to be called Polly,\" said Miss Van Arsdale, with a\nsudden return to her supercilious manner. \"My bird's name is Mary,--and\nI strongly disapprove of nicknames of any sort.\"\n\nA parrot named Mary struck Dorothy as very funny, but she was learning\nto control her sense of humor when necessary, and she replied: \"Very\nwell, Miss Van Arsdale, we shall be glad to welcome Mary.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" said Miss Van Arsdale, formally; \"and I will ask you to\nhave her cage moved about at my direction, during the day, in accordance\nwith the sun and the weather.\"\n\nDorothy considered a minute, and concluded that this was one of the\ntimes to humor Miss Van Arsdale.\n\nSo she said, \"I will see to it that the cage is placed wherever you\ndesire.\"\n\nThe repetition of this conversation to the others caused great hilarity.\n\n\"Mary!\" cried Leicester; \"a parrot called Mary! but _I_ should not dare\nbe so familiar with the bird as to call her Mary. I shall say Miss Mary,\nand shall always address her with my best dancing-school bow.\"\n\nThe parrot arrived duly, and proved to be such a superior bird, and so\ninteresting and attractive, that the children all fell in love with her.\nThe name of Polly was entirely unsuited to such a dignified creature,\nand Mary seemed far more appropriate.\n\nThe bird's plumage was of brilliant coloring, and Lilian declared that\nthe Van Arsdale ladies copied their own clothes from Miss Mary's. The\nparrot was an exceedingly fine talker, and readily picked up new\nphrases.\n\nWhenever the Van Arsdale ladies entered the room, Mary would remark,\n\"Hurrah for Miss Marcia!\" or, \"Hurrah for Miss Amanda!\" as the case\nmight be. This hurrahing was quite in line with the Dorrances' own mode\nof expression, and they soon taught Mary to hurrah for each of them by\nname.\n\nAlthough on the whole, the Misses Van Arsdale were satisfactory\nboarders, they were far more difficult than the easy-going Faulkners.\nMiss Marcia had a most irritating way of popping out of her room, and\ncalling over the banister, \"Clerk, clerk!\"\n\nSince the moment of registration, she had looked upon Leicester as the\nofficial clerk of the hotel, and applied to him a dozen times a day for\nthings that she wanted or thought she wanted.\n\nUsually these applications were made by screaming from the head of the\nstaircase. Sometimes the request was for stationery,--again for hot\nwater, warm water, cold water, or ice water. Miss Amanda, too, made\nsimilar demands, and was given to calling for a glass of milk at five\no'clock in the morning, or a few sandwiches after everybody had retired\nfor the night.\n\nBut Dorothy was learning that the way to success is not always a\nprimrose path, and she cheerfully did her best to accede to such of\nthese demands as she considered just and reasonable. And she tried, too,\nto look at the justice and reasonableness from the standpoint of her\nguests' rather than her own opinions.\n\nThe children had agreed that whenever Miss Marcia desired Mary's cage\nmoved, any one of the four was to do it. And it was fortunate that the\ntask was thus divided, for Miss Marcia was fussy, and twenty times a\nday, or more, one of the Dorrances might be seen carrying the large cage\nfrom the hall to the veranda, from the veranda to the parlor, from the\nparlor to the upper balcony, and so on.\n\nBut as careful attention to Mary's welfare was one of the principal\nconditions of the Van Arsdales' continued stay at the Dorrance Domain,\nand too, as the children were one and all devoted to the bird, this work\nwas not objected to.\n\nDorothy was most anxious to keep her four boarders through the rest of\nthe summer. For the plan was working successfully, and though providing\na well-spread and even bounteous table, Dorothy found she could save a\nlittle money. She was not avaricious nor mercenary, but she longed to be\nable, at the close of the season, to present Grandma Dorrance with at\nleast a small sum of money, to help pay their winter expenses.\n\nAnd so, when Miss Marcia one day made a proposition to her, Dorothy\nhailed it with delight.\n\nThe suggestion was that Miss Van Arsdale should ask her niece to come up\nto the Dorrance Domain to board, and to bring her whole family.\n\nThe family consisted of Mrs. Black, three small children and two nurses;\nMr. Black might possibly come up occasionally, but would remain only a\nfew days at a time.\n\nChildren! Dorothy remembered only too well, how children were objected\nto in boarding-houses, and she wondered if she dare undertake to have\nthem in her hotel. She realized, too, that six or seven more people\nwould necessitate some radical changes in her methods, and in her\nhousehold appointments. Indeed, it meant a change from an experiment to\nthe real thing. It meant assuming obligations much more formal than she\nwas under towards her present guests.\n\nOn the other hand, Mrs. Black was wealthy, Miss Van Arsdale said, and\nquite willing to pay generously for all she received.\n\n\"I want to do it, Miss Marcia,\" said Dorothy,--\"I want to do it very\nmuch; but it is a big question to decide. So I'll take twenty-four hours\nto think it over, and to discuss it with the others, and to-morrow I\nwill let you know.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nA REAL HOTEL\n\n\nAt the family conference on the subject, Grandma Dorrance said No. The\ngentle old lady was more than usually decided, and she said, that while\nthe Faulkners and Van Arsdales were charming people, and more like\nvisitors than boarders, a family of children, with nurses, was an\naltogether different matter, and meant far more trouble and\ncomplications than Dorothy could realize.\n\n\"Oh, grannymother dear,\" said Dorothy, \"I don't think so. Miss Marcia\nsays that Mrs. Black is a lovely lady, not a bit fussy; and children and\nnurses can't be as much responsibility as grown people. Why, they\nwouldn't be critical at all.\"\n\n\"Not critical, perhaps, but far more troublesome in their own way.\"\n\n\"Oh, I don't know,\" said Leicester; \"the reason people didn't want us\nchildren in boarding-houses was because we made so much noise. Now we\ndon't care how much noise these kids make, and there's room enough for\nthe people who do care, to get away from the racket.\"\n\n\"We would have to have more servants,\" said Lilian; \"and wouldn't that\ncut down the profits a good deal?\"\n\n\"I've been thinking about that,\" said Dorothy, \"and I've come to this\nconclusion. If we should take all these people, we would have to get\nanother chambermaid, and another helper in the kitchen. A young girl to\npare the vegetables, and help with the dish washing. Of course with so\nmany extra people, more waitresses will be necessary; but as you say,\nLilian, if we hire a lot of servants it will make our profits pretty\nslim. And so I propose that we three girls wait on the table.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, children,\" cried Grandma Dorrance; \"I won't allow anything of\nthat sort!\"\n\n\"Now wait a minute, grandma,\" said Dorothy; \"don't say things that\nyou'll just have to take back afterwards. There is no disgrace at all in\nwaiting on a table. Lots of college girls and boys do it right along,\nin the colleges,--and they go to summer hotels, too, and wait on the\ntables there. Now we children want to earn some money to help you; after\nyou've taken care of us all these years, I'm sure it's no more than\nright. And if this way of earning money isn't easier and pleasanter than\ngoing into a store, I'll give up. What do the rest of you say?\"\n\n\"I say, let's go ahead,\" declared Leicester; \"if the four of us agree,\nwe can persuade grandma. She never really refused us anything in our\nlives. And as to waiting on the table, I'd just as leave do it myself,\nas not. As you say, Dot, lots of college fellows do it, and it's no more\ndisgrace than being president. And then we can all eat by ourselves\nafterwards, and have a jolly old time.\"\n\n\"I'd love to wait on the table,\" said Fairy; \"I think it would be\ngorgeous fun. Shall we all wear caps, and aprons with big white wings\nsticking out of the shoulders?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Dorothy, \"not caps. We'll wear white aprons, but not with\nshoulder-ruffles.\"\n\n\"I shall have shoulder-ruffles on mine,\" said Leicester, decidedly;\n\"and I shall wear a cap, too.\"\n\nEven grandma laughed at this; but Dorothy said, \"No, Less, I don't want\nyou to wait on the table, at least not until we really need you. We\ngirls can do it, with Tessie's help.\"\n\n\"Well, what _can_ I do?\" said Leicester; \"it won't take all my time to\nregister the people who come.\"\n\n\"There'll be enough for you to do, old fellow,\" said Dorothy; \"you can\ngo to market every day, and answer Miss Marcia's calls, and move Mary\naround. Then if you have any time left, you can amuse the three Black\nbabies.\"\n\n\"Pickaninnies, are they?\" said Leicester; \"then I'll fill them up on\nwatermelon.\"\n\nAlthough Grandma Dorrance weakened somewhat in her disapproval of the\nplan, yet it was not until Mrs. Faulkner was called in, and her opinion\nasked, that grandma gave an entire consent.\n\nMrs. Faulkner was so sweet and sensible about the whole matter, and so\njudicious in her advice and suggestions, that grandma was much\ninfluenced by her view of the case.\n\nMrs. Faulkner quite agreed with Dorothy about the girls acting as\nwaitresses, and strongly approved of the children's desire to add to\ntheir finances.\n\nShe also advised Dorothy to charge good prices for the accommodation of\nthe children and nurses, because, she said, they were quite as great a\nresponsibility in their way, as Mrs. Black herself.\n\nAs Dorothy had hoped, Mr. Bill Hodges was able to recommend a young girl\nwhom he knew, to help Kathleen in the kitchen; and Tessie knew of a\ncompetent chambermaid who would be glad to come up from the city for a\nwhile.\n\nSo Dorothy wrote to Mrs. Black, and stated frankly what she had to\noffer, and what her rates were, and Mrs. Black telegraphed back that she\nmight expect the whole family as soon as they could get there.\n\nAnd so it came to pass, that again Leicester stood behind his open\nregister, and the proprietor of the Dorrance Domain awaited her new\nrelay of guests.\n\nThough Dorothy was not as much embarrassed this time, as when she\nexpected her first guests, and had far less sense of humor in the\nsituation, she had a better poise and a greater self-confidence, which\ncame necessarily from her so far successful experiences.\n\nBut when she saw the cavalcade approaching, her heart began to beat a\nlittle faster, and worse than that, she found it impossible to keep from\nlaughing.\n\nThe Blacks had come up by rail, and had apparently annexed all the\navailable vehicles at the station to transport them. There was a\nrockaway first, then two buggies, then two large spring wagons, and then\na buckboard. In the wagons were several trunks, three baby-carriages and\na number of queer-shaped forms carefully wrapped, which afterwards\nproved to be portable bath-tubs, a cradle and a folding crib.\n\nDorothy began to think that for once, Mr. Hickox would not prove equal\nto the occasion; but he reassured her with his usual statements that it\nwould be all right, and that he would look after things.\n\nThe rockaway came first, and Mr. and Mrs. Black were helped out by Mr.\nHickox in his most official manner.\n\nMrs. Black was a delicate, helpless-looking little lady; very pretty, in\na pale blonde way, and seemingly very dependent on her big, good-looking\nhusband. Mr. Benjamin Black was one of those hearty, cordial-mannered\nmen, who make friends at once.\n\nHe brought Mrs. Black up the steps, and advancing to Dorothy with\noutstretched hand, said pleasantly: \"I'm sure this is our proprietor,\nMiss Dorrance.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Dorothy, put at her ease at once, and shaking hands with\nthem both; \"I'm very glad to see you.\"\n\n\"We are glad to be here,\" said Mr. Black. \"The trip was very warm and\ntiresome. But this place is most charming.\"\n\n\"And so cool and quiet,\" said Mrs. Black, sinking into a chair, and\nlooking, Dorothy thought, as if she never meant to rise again.\n\nBy this time the other vehicles were depositing their cargoes, both\nhuman and freight, and for a moment Dorothy wondered if the Dorrance\nDomain were large enough to hold the entire collection.\n\nOne of the nurses was French, and was talking volubly in her own\nlanguage to the two children who held her by the hands. One of these\nchildren, a girl of five years, was answering her nurse, also in French;\nwhile the other, a younger boy, was crying loudly, but whether in French\nor English, nobody could quite make out.\n\nThe other nurse was a large and stout German woman, who was crooning a\nGerman folk-song to the baby she carried in her arm. Apparently the baby\ncared little for German music, for the small infant was pounding its\nnurse's face with both tiny fists, and making strange gurgling sounds\nwhich might be caused either by joy or grief.\n\nAll these people came up on the veranda; and after persuading one of the\ndrivers to stay and help him, Mr. Hickox began to carry the luggage into\nthe house.\n\nWith a successful effort at composure, Dorothy paid no attention to the\nchildren and nurses, and conducted Mr. Black to the office.\n\n\"Ah,\" said he to Leicester; \"how do you do, sir, how do you do? Fine\nplace you have up here. Very fine place. Glad I brought my family. Hope\nthey won't make you any trouble.\"\n\nAs the commotion on the veranda seemed to increase each moment,\nLeicester did not echo this hope, but spoke pleasantly to Mr. Black, and\nturned the register towards him.\n\nThe gentleman registered Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Black, Miss Sylvia Black,\nMaster Montmorency Black, Miss Gwendolen Genevieve Black, Mlle.\nCelestine, and Fraulein Lisa Himmelpfennig.\n\nLeicester looked proudly at this array of names which reached half-way\ndown the page, and ringing for Mr. Hickox, he gave him the keys of the\nrooms set aside for the party, and the caravan started up-stairs.\n\nDorothy went with them, both because she thought it proper to do so, and\nbecause she felt an interest in seeing the family properly distributed.\n\nLeicester left his official desk, and found plenty to do in disposing of\nthe baby-carriages, and the other paraphernalia.\n\nIt was strange, Dorothy thought to herself as she came down-stairs, how\nmuch more easily, and as a matter of course she took the Blacks' arrival\nthan she had the previous ones.\n\n\"I must have been born for a hotel proprietor,\" she said to herself;\n\"for I don't feel any worry or anxiety about the dinner or anything. I\njust _know_ everything will be all right.\"\n\nAs she reached the foot of the staircase, she met Fairy, who was just\ncarrying Mary's cage into the north parlor.\n\n\"Hurrah for Dorothy!\" croaked the parrot, catching sight of her.\n\n\"Ah, Miss Mary, you'll have a lot of new names to hurrah for now, and\njaw-breakers at that. I shouldn't wonder if they'd break even a parrot's\njaw, and they may bend that big yellow beak of yours.\"\n\n\"She can learn them,\" said Fairy, confidently. \"Miss Mary can learn\nanything. She's the cleverest, smartest, educatedest bird in the whole\nworld. There's _nothing_ she can't learn.\"\n\n\"Pretty Mary,\" said the bird in its queer, croaking voice; \"move Mary's\ncage. Hurrah for Fairy!\"\n\n\"There, just hear that!\" exclaimed Fairy, proudly; \"now I rather guess a\nbird like that could learn to hurrah for anybody.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Dorothy, \"but you don't know yet that these children's\nnames are Gwendolen Genevieve, and Montmorency.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried Fairy, nearly dropping the cage, \"of course no parrot\ncould learn such names as those.\"\n\n\"And Miss Marcia objects to nicknames,\" said Dorothy. \"These new people\naren't a bit like their aunts, though.\"\n\n\"When are they coming down?\" asked Lilian, who had joined her sisters;\n\"I wish they'd get that procession of baby-carriages started. I want to\nsee the show.\"\n\nAt that moment, the French nurse, Celestine, came down-stairs with the\ntwo older children. The little ones had been freshly dressed, and looked\nextremely pretty. Sylvia was in crisp white muslin, with fluttering\nbows of pink ribbon, and Montmorency wore a boyish garb of white pique.\n\n\"Won't you speak to me?\" asked Lilian, putting out her hand to the\nlittle girl.\n\n\"No,\" said the child, hiding her face in her nurse's apron; \"do away.\nI's af'aid.\"\n\n\"Mees Sylvie,--she is afraid of everything,\" said Celestine; \"she is a\nnaughty--naughty,--a bad ma'amselle.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" cried Sylvia; \"me not bad. Me dood ma'selle.\"\n\n\"Me dood!\" announced three year old Montmorency; \"me no ky. On'y babies\nky. Me bid man!\"\n\n\"You are good,\" said Fairy, \"and you're a nice big man. Come with me,\nand I'll show you where I'm going to put this pretty green bird.\"\n\n\"Ess,\" said the little boy, and grasping hold of Fairy's frock he\nwillingly trotted along by her side.\n\nWhereupon Sylvia, overcoming her bashfulness, concluded she, too, wanted\nto go with the green bird.\n\nSo Celestine and her charges accompanied the Dorrance girls to the north\nparlor, and there they found the Van Arsdale ladies, who sat waiting in\nstate to receive their newly arrived relatives.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nUPS AND DOWNS\n\n\nThe days that followed were crammed full of both business and pleasure.\nDorothy rose each morning, buoyant with eager hope that all would go\nwell, and went to bed each night, rejoicing in the fact that in the main\nit had done so.\n\nThere was plenty of work to do; but it was cheerfully done, and many\nhands made it light, and comparatively easy. There were many small\nworries and anxieties, but they were overcome by perseverance and\ndetermination.\n\nThe Dorrance pride was inherent in all four children, and having set\ntheir hand to the plough, not only were they unwilling to turn back, but\nthey were determined to make the best possible furrow. Although Dorothy\nwas at the helm, and all important matters were referred to her, yet the\nothers had their appointed tasks and did them each day, promptly and\nwell.\n\nNow that the Domain had assumed more of the character of a hotel, the\nDorrances saw less of their boarders, socially. Also the large\ndining-room was used, and the guests seated in families at various\ntables. This gave a far more hotel-like air to the house, and though\nperhaps not quite as pleasant, it seemed to Dorothy the right thing to\ndo.\n\nThe Faulkners were ideal boarders; the Van Arsdales, though more\nexacting, were just and considerate; but the Blacks, as Leicester\nexpressed it, were a caution.\n\nMrs. Black was a continual and never-pausing fusser. Mr. Black remained\ntwo days to get them settled, and then returned to the city. Immediately\nafter his departure, Mrs. Black insisted on changing her room.\n\n\"I didn't want to bother my husband about it,\" she said to Dorothy, \"for\nhe thinks I'm so fickle-minded; but truly, it isn't that. You see, the\nsun gets around to this room at just half-past three, and that's the\ntime I'm always taking my nap, and so of course it wakes me up. Now you\nsee, I can't stand that,--when I came up here for rest and recuperation.\nAnd so, my dear Miss Dorrance, if you don't mind, I'll just take some\nother room. I'm sure you have plenty of them, and if that big, strong\nMr. Hickox will help move my things, I'm sure it will be no trouble at\nall. Perhaps your sister Fairy will look after the children a little\nbit, while Celestine and Lisa assist me. The baby is asleep, and perhaps\nshe won't waken, but if she does, would Miss Lilian mind holding her for\njust a little while? or she might take her out in her baby-carriage for\na bit of a ride. I'm sorry to be troublesome, but you see for yourself,\nI really can't help it.\"\n\nIf Mrs. Black really _was_ sorry to be troublesome, she must have been\nsorry most of the time. For she was everlastingly making changes of some\nsort, or desiring attention from somebody, and she quite imposed on the\ngood nature of the younger Dorrances, by begging them to take care of\nher children upon all too frequent occasions. Once, even Leicester was\nsurprised to find himself wheeling Montmorency up and down the veranda,\nwhile Mrs. Black finished a letter to go in the mail.\n\nThe Van Arsdale ladies also were under the calm, but imperious sway of\ntheir fragile-looking niece. It was nothing unusual to see Miss Marcia\nand Miss Amanda each holding one of the fretful children, and making\nfrantic endeavors to amuse their young relatives. The nurses were\ncompetent, but Mrs. Black so often had errands for them that their young\ncharges were frequently in the care of other people.\n\nDorothy talked this matter over with Mrs. Faulkner, and as usual was\nwisely counseled by that lady. She advised, that in so far as Lilian and\nFairy wished to play with the Black children, they should do so; but in\nno way were they under obligation to assist Mrs. Black in the care of\nher little ones. And, if she requested this at times when the girls had\nduties to perform, or indeed at a time when they wished to take their\nrecreation, Mrs. Faulkner said they were perfectly justified in asking\nMrs. Black to excuse them.\n\nDorothy told this to her sisters, who were thereby much relieved; for\nthough fond of the children, they did not, as Lilian said, wish to be\npushing around those Black babies in perambulators from morning till\nnight. But somehow the babies caused a great deal of commotion, and\nDorothy began to understand why boarding-house keepers preferred grown\npeople.\n\nOne day as the Dorrance girls sat on the veranda, Celestine came running\nto them, wringing her hands, after her French method of showing great\ndismay, and exclaiming:\n\n\"Mees Sylvie,--she have fallen into ze lake!\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed the three girls at once, jumping up, and running\ntowards the lake; \"where did she fall in? How did it happen?\"\n\n\"Non, non,--not zat way! zis a-way,\" and Celestine started down a path\nthat did not lead towards the lake. \"I have pull her out; she is not\ndrown,--but she is,--oh, so ver' soil,--so, vat you say,--muddy, oh, so\nmuch muddy!\"\n\n\"Never mind the mud if the child isn't drowned,\" cried Lilian; \"but\nthis is not the way to the lake. You said she fell in the lake.\"\n\n\"Not ze gran' lake, mees, but ze small lake,--ze ver' small, p'tit\nlake.\"\n\n\"Oh, she means nothing but a mud-puddle!\" cried Fairy, who had run ahead\nof the rest, and found Sylvia lying on the grass, chuckling with\nlaughter, while her pretty clothes were a mass of mud and wet.\n\n\"I falled in!\" she cried, gleefully; \"I failed in all myself, when\nC'lestine wasn't looking. Ain't I a funny dirl?\"\n\n\"No, I don't think it's funny,\" began Dorothy, and then she paused,\nrealizing that it was not her duty to reprimand Mrs. Black's children,\nand, too, Sylvia certainly did look funny. Not only her white dress, but\nher face and hands, and her dainty white slippers and stockings were\nbespattered with brown mud, and Lilian said that she looked like a\nchocolate eclair.\n\nAnother day, Celestine approached Dorothy with the pleasing news that,\n\"Master Montmorency, he must have upsetted the blanc-mange.\"\n\nDorothy flew to verify this statement, and found that the son of the\nhouse of Black had indeed overturned a large dish of Bavarian cream,\nwhich Kathleen had made for that evening's dessert. It had been set out\non the back porch to cool, and though protected by a wire screen cover,\nthe enterprising youth had succeeded in wrecking the whole affair.\n\nDorothy's record for good-nature was seriously menaced by this\nmischievous prank, and she would probably have told Mrs. Black her\nhonest opinion of the transgressing infant; but Kathleen's view of the\ncase disarmed her.\n\n\"Whisht, now, darlint,\" said the big peace-maker, \"niver you mind. I'll\nwhishk up another bowl full in a minute, shure. The shpalpeen didn't\nmane anny harrum. Troth, he's nothin' but a baby. Wasn't ye wan yersilf\nwanst? Go 'long wid ye, now, and lave me to me wurruk.\"\n\nThis Dorothy was glad enough to do, and she walked away, feeling that\nKathleen had taught her a lesson in making allowance for the\nunconsciousness of a child's wrongdoing.\n\nWhen she reached the west veranda she found the whole family and all\nthe guests gathered there in a great state of excitement.\n\nFollowing Lilian's pointing finger with her eyes, she saw Mary, the\nparrot, perched calmly on a high limb of an evergreen-tree.\n\n\"How did she get out?\" cried Dorothy, aghast.\n\n\"Sylvia opened the cage door,\" answered Lilian, \"when no one was\nlooking,--and Mary just walked out. You should have seen her climbing\nthat tree. She went up branch by branch.\"\n\nThe parrot looked triumphantly down at the crowd, and remarked, \"Mary is\nhigh up; Mary is very high up.\"\n\n\"Come down, Mary,\" said Dorothy, beseechingly; \"come down, Mary,--pretty\nMary,--come down to Dorothy.\"\n\n\"Hurrah for Dorothy!\" cried the parrot,--\"hurrah for Sylvia! hurrah for\nthe Dorrance Domain!\"\n\nThis last cheer had been taught to Mary by Leicester, after many long\nand patient lessons, and never before had Mary spoken it so plainly and\ndistinctly.\n\nBy this time the Van Arsdale ladies were in tears; Fairy, too, was\nweeping, for she felt sure Mary would fly away and never come back. The\nBlack children required very little encouragement to start their\nlachrymal glands, and seeing the others' tears, immediately began to\nhowl in various keys.\n\n\"Don't cry, don't cry!\" said Mary, from her high perch.\n\n\"Come down, Mary,\" said Dorothy, coaxingly, and showing an apple and a\ncracker which she had procured; \"come down and get your dinner.\"\n\nBut no urgings would induce the bird to come down. She cocked her eye\nwickedly, and hurrahed for everybody in turn, but utterly refused to\ndescend.\n\n\"Ach, donnerblitzen!\" exclaimed German Lisa. \"Denn du bist ein dumkopf!\nKommst du jetz hinein!\"\n\n\"Ciel! what a bird it is!\" wailed Celestine, wringing her hands; \"ah,\nMarie, belle Marie, come down, cherie!\"\n\nBut the French coaxing, and the German scolding had no more effect on\nMary than the weeping of the Van Arsdale ladies and the screaming of\nthe children. She fluttered her wings, and seemed about to depart. Then\nshe would look at them again, and with her exasperating winks, would\nhurrah enthusiastically.\n\n\"If she'll only stay there long enough, perhaps I can lasso her,\" said\nLeicester, running in the house for a string.\n\n\"No,\" said Mr. Faulkner, who followed him in, \"I'm afraid that would\nfrighten her; but if you had a butterfly net, with a very long handle,\nwe might catch her with that.\"\n\n\"Just the thing,\" said Leicester; \"and there is one in the storeroom; I\nremember seeing it there.\"\n\nHe brought it, but the handle was not long enough; so Mr. Faulkner\nproposed that they try placing a ladder against another tree near by,\nand then from the top of that, endeavor to reach the bird with a net.\n\nMary watched the proceedings with great interest. \"Catch Mary!\" she\ncried; \"catch pretty Mary!\"\n\n\"You bet we will!\" cried Leicester, and when the ladder was adjusted he\nclimbed to the top of it, carrying the long-handled net with him.\n\nThey all thought the bird would be frightened at the net and fly away,\nor at least attempt to do so.\n\nBut she seemed to think it a game in which she played an important part,\nand she sat quietly on the branch, occasionally remarking, \"Catch Mary,\npretty Mary!\"\n\nWith a sure aim, Leicester pushed the net towards the bird and brought\nit down over her head, then with a dextrous twist, he turned it upside\ndown, with the bird in it, and lowered it carefully to Mr. Faulkner, who\nwas standing below. At this unexpected indignity, Mary set up a\nferocious squawking, the Black children redoubled their yells, and the\nDorrance children cheered with delight.\n\nMary was taken from the net, unharmed, and restored to her happy\nmistress, who determined to send to town at once for a padlock for the\ncage door.\n\nBut though commotions such as these were of frequent, almost daily\noccurrence; yet when they were not such as to interfere with the\nroutine of her household management, Dorothy did not allow them to worry\nher.\n\nAlthough usually busy all the morning, she found many spare hours for\nrest and recreation in the afternoon; and the evenings were always\ndelightful. The Black children were then safely in bed, and could make\nno trouble. The Dorrances were at liberty to be by themselves, or with\ntheir boarders, as they wished.\n\nAs Mr. Faulkner played the guitar, and Leicester could pick a little on\nthe mandolin, and as they all could sing,--or fancied they could,--there\nwere often very jolly concerts on the veranda, or, on moonlight\nevenings, out in the boat.\n\nMr. Black came up every week, and when he discovered the array of\nmusical talent already there, he brought his banjo, and added greatly to\nthe fun. Sometimes on rainy evenings, they would all congregate in the\ngreat empty ballroom, and play merry games. On such occasions, the\nBlacks and Faulkners seemed almost as young, and nearly as noisy as the\nDorrances.\n\nOne day Leicester came to Dorothy, with a letter.\n\n\"Jack Harris has just written me,\" he said, \"and he wants to come up\nhere and board for a month; what do you think?\"\n\n\"Let him come, by all means,\" said Dorothy, heartily; \"he won't be a bit\nof extra trouble, and if he will pay our regular rates I shall be glad\nto have him. The Dorrance Domain is now a fully established summer\nhotel; and we are prepared to receive all who apply.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTWO BOYS AND A BOAT\n\n\nIt was nearly a week after Leicester had written to Jack Harris, telling\nhim that he might come up and board at the hotel, when, one afternoon,\nthe Dorrance children heard queer sounds coming up from the direction of\nthe dock.\n\nAll four ran to look over the rail of the upper landing, and saw a\nstrange-looking craft anchored at the dock. On the dock were two boys\nand Mr. Hickox; the latter gentleman apparently much excited and\ninterested.\n\n\"It's Jack Harris!\" cried Leicester, \"and another fellow with him; and,\noh, I say, girls, they've got a motor-boat!\"\n\n\"What's a motor-boat?\" cried Fairy; but as all four were then flying\ndown the steps at a rapid speed, nobody answered her.\n\nWondering who the second boy could be, and filled with delightful\ncuriosity as to the wonderful motor-boat, the Dorrances reached the\ndock with astonishing rapidity.\n\n\"Hi, Jack,\" cried Leicester, \"thought you were coming up by train. What\na dandy boat! Yours?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Jack, whipping off his cap, and shaking hands with Dorothy;\n\"it belongs to my chum here, Bob Irwin. I've brought him along, Dorothy,\nand I hope you can take us both in. Less said you had plenty of room. I\nwould have written, but Bob only decided to come at the last minute, and\nwe were so busy and excited getting the boat off, that I forgot to\ntelegraph, though I meant to do so.\"\n\nBob Irwin was a big, jolly-looking boy, of about seventeen or eighteen,\nand his smile was so broad and comprehensive that the Dorrances felt\nacquainted at once.\n\n\"Indeed we have plenty of room,\" said Dorothy, answering young Irwin's\ngreeting; \"and we're very glad to have you both,--and your boat too,\"\nshe added, still looking with a sort of fascination at the trim little\naffair.\n\n\"She is a jolly little craft,\" said Bob Irwin, frankly; \"I've only had\nher a few weeks. I named her _Shooting Star_, because she goes like one.\nWe came all the way up from Jersey City by the canal.\"\n\n\"All the way!\" exclaimed Lilian; \"what fun you must have had coming\nthrough the locks!\"\n\n\"Well yes,--but there were so many of them. The planes were worse,\nthough; _Shooting Star_ didn't take to those kindly at all. However,\nwe're here; and if you'll keep us, we'll all have a good deal of fun on\nthis lake.\"\n\n\"I didn't know you could come all the way by canal,\" said Leicester.\n\"Are they willing to open the locks for you?\"\n\n\"Oh, Bob's uncle is a Grand High Mogul or something in the canal\ncompany, and he gave us a permit. I tell you it was great fun; the boat\ngoes like a greased arrow.\"\n\n\"Would you like to go for a little spin around the lake, now, all of\nyou?\" asked Bob.\n\n\"No,--not now,\" said Dorothy, looking at her watch. \"We'd love to, but\nit is too near dinner-time for us to go now. You know, as hotel\nproprietors, we have duties to attend to at scheduled hours; and we must\nbe found at our posts.\"\n\nThough said with apparent carelessness, this was really a brave bit of\nself-denial on Dorothy's part. For she was eager to try the pretty boat,\nand, too, there was nearly a half hour before her presence at the hotel\nwas actually necessary.\n\nBut she had learned by experience that to go out on the lake was a\nproceeding which could not be accurately timed, and she knew that her\nduty pointed towards keeping on the safe side. Beside this, she must\nhave another room put in readiness, for she had expected only Jack.\n\n\"But I _do_ want to go out in the motor-boater,\" cried Fairy, dancing\naround the dock, and waving her arms. \"Will you take us some other time,\nMr. Bob?\"\n\n\"Indeed I will,\" said Bob, heartily; \"and anyway, it's just as well to\ntake our traps up now, and get settled.\"\n\n\"Hickox is your man,\" said that long individual, suddenly interrupting\nhis own investigation of the marvelous boat. \"Hickox'll cart your truck\nup the hill. Where might it be?\"\n\n\"Here you are,\" and Bob sprang into the _Shooting Star_ and tossed out\nthree suit cases and a lot of odds and ends of luggage. \"But we fellows\ncan carry them up.\"\n\n\"No, sir, no, sir; Hickox'll look after things. It'll be all right.\"\n\nJack laughed at the familiar phrases, and Bob Irwin looked on with\namusement while Mr. Hickox stowed the things in his queer-looking cart.\n\n\"And this is for you and your sisters, Miss Dorothy,\" said Bob, as he\nemerged with a final parcel.\n\nThere was no mistaking the contents of the neatly tied up box of candy;\nbut it was of such a size that it nearly took the girls' breath away.\n\n\"Oh, thank you,\" cried Dorothy, dimpling with smiles. \"I haven't had a\nspeck of New York candy since I've been here. And the Woodville\ngum-drops are so highly and so stiff inside, that they're not a\nbit of fun.\"\n\n\"They were made summer before last, too,\" said Leicester; \"they ought to\nbe sold as antiques.\"\n\n\"A whole big box of candy for our very own!\" cried Fairy; \"oh, that's\nbetter than the promoter-boat, or whatever you call it. And part of the\ncandy is _my_ very own, isn't it, Mr. Bob?\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed; to do whatever you like with.\"\n\n\"Then I shall give half of my share to Mrs. Hickox. She'll be _so_\nsurprised. I don't believe she ever saw any real choklits or\nbutter-cuppers.\"\n\nLeicester carried the precious box, and the six children climbed the\nsteps to the Dorrance Domain. Naturally, Fairy reached the top first,\nand ran up the veranda steps, shouting, \"Oh, grannymother! we've got two\nnew boarders, and they came in an automobile-ship, and they brought a\nbushel of candy, real splendiferous New York candy,--and his name is\nBob!\"\n\nGrandma Dorrance had always liked Leicester's friend Jack, and she\nwillingly extended her welcome to the pleasant-faced Bob.\n\nThe two boys were a decided addition to the gayety of the Dorrance\nDomain.\n\nAnd the _Shooting Star_ proved to be an equally desirable adjunct.\nInstead of rowing over to Dolan's Point each morning for the marketing,\nor harnessing old Dobbin and driving there, the swift little motor-boat\ndid the errand in less than half the time, and was moreover a pleasure\nand delight.\n\nBesides this there were merry excursions on the lake in the afternoons\nand evenings.\n\nOne day, when they had started out immediately after luncheon, and,\nowing to Mr. Black's expected arrival, were to have a late dinner, the\nsix children made an exploring tour of the whole lake.\n\n\"I want to find out,\" said Bob, as they started off, \"what feeds this\nlake. There must be several inlets and some of them large ones. A lake\nnine miles long has got to be fed by something.\"\n\n\"This lake is so tame it would eat out of your hand,\" said Leicester.\n\n\"Even so, _I_ wouldn't want to feed it,\" said Dorothy; \"my present array\nof table boarders is quite enough for me, thank you.\"\n\n\"There _is_ an inlet,\" said Lilian, \"just this side of Dolan's Point.\nThe one that has the floating bridge across it, you know.\"\n\n\"But that isn't enough to make any impression on this big lake,\"\ninsisted Bob; \"there must be two or three arms somewhere, and if there\nare, we'll find them to-day; for I'm going all around the shores of the\nlake.\"\n\nSo the _Shooting Star_ shot ahead, and skirted the margin of the lake\nfor miles and miles.\n\nBut except the one at Dolan's Point, no inlet of any sort was\ndiscovered, and the round trip was completed by a crowd of mystified\nexplorers.\n\n\"It's the queerest thing!\" said Bob, whose scientific inquiries were\nprompted by a tenacious mind. \"The water in Lake Ponetcong certainly\nmust come from somewhere.\"\n\n\"I think it rains in,\" said Fairy, with a sage expression. \"It hasn't\nrained much this summer, but it rained a lot when we were in New York,\nand I s'pose the water just stayed in.\"\n\n\"I think it just was here from the beginning,\" said Lilian, \"and somehow\nit never got away.\"\n\n\"That would do for some lakes,\" said Dorothy; \"but here, they're always\nletting it out through the locks; and it does seem as if it would have\nto be filled up again, some way.\"\n\nThat evening the children put the puzzling question to Mr. Faulkner. He\nwas a great favorite with the crowd of young people, and though a\nscientific man, he was capable of making explanations that were entirely\ncomprehensible to their youthful minds.\n\nThey were all interested, though perhaps Bob Irwin was more especially\nso, in learning that Lake Ponetcong was fed entirely by springs in its\nbed.\n\nThis phrase pleased the Dorrance children very much, as their sense of\nhumor was touched by what they chose to call the spring-bed of the lake.\n\nBut Bob was more seriously interested, and listened attentively to Mr.\nFaulkner's description of what was an unusual, though not unprecedented\nphenomenon.\n\nSometimes Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner accompanied them on their motor-boat\ntrips; sometimes, too, Mr. and Mrs. Black went; but the Van Arsdale\nladies refused to be persuaded to risk their lives in any such\nmysterious contrivance.\n\nThe Black children and their nurses were taken out once, but upon their\nreturn Bob Irwin declared himself unwilling ever again to carry such an\nemotional and cosmopolitan crowd. The baby shrieked and yelled in\nEnglish, the French nurse and German nurse shrieked in their respective\nlanguages, and the way they all jumped about was really a serious menace\nto safety.\n\nThere seemed to be no end to the energies or the resources of the three\nboys in providing pleasure and entertainment.\n\nJack and Bob shared Leicester's duties as a matter of course; and though\nLeicester protested, the others insisted on helping him in whatever he\nhad to do. They froze ice cream, they mowed the grass, they split\nkindling-wood,--and they looked on these things as pastimes rather than\ntasks. They were big, strong, good-natured fellows, and firm friends and\nadmirers of all the Dorrances.\n\nBob declared that although he drew the line at pushing the Black babies'\nperambulators, yet he was perfectly willing to act as Miss Mary's escort\nwhenever desired.\n\nOne notable achievement of the boys', was a roof-garden. Jack had\ndiscovered the possibilities of the hotel roof during his earlier visit;\nand at his proposition it was arranged most attractively.\n\nSmall evergreen trees were brought from the woods and taken up to the\nroof where they were made to stand about in hedges or clusters. Rustic\nchairs, settees and tables were found in the storerooms, and rugs were\nplaced about. Hammocks were swung, and over the top of all was rigged an\nawning, which could be rolled away if desired.\n\nChinese lanterns made the place gay by night, and flags and bunting\nformed part of the decoration.\n\nSummer night concerts were often held here, and when Tessie would\nappear with iced lemonade and cakes and fruit, everybody declared that\nnever had there been a hotel so admirably managed as the Dorrance\nDomain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nAN UNWELCOME PROPOSITION\n\n\nThough Dorothy enjoyed the fun of the motor-boat and the roof-garden,\nand was always happy whether working or playing, yet perhaps she liked\nbest of all, to lie in her hammock of a summer afternoon, and read or\nday-dream as she looked across the lake and watched the shadows on the\ndistant hills.\n\nOn these occasions she felt sure she could be a poet, if she only knew\nhow to express properly the fancies that danced through her brain.\n\nSometimes she would provide herself with a pencil and paper, but though\nshe might write a line or a phrase, she never could get any further. The\nattempt to put her thoughts into words always produced a crude and\nstilted result which she knew instinctively was not poetry.\n\n\"If I only could learn the wordy part of it,\" she said to herself, \"I am\nsure I have the right thoughts to put into a poem.\"\n\nAs she lay thinking about all this, one warm afternoon, she suddenly\nheard a voice say: \"_Is_ this a hotel, or isn't it?\"\n\nDorothy jumped, and sitting up in her hammock, saw a strange lady, who\nhad apparently just walked into the Domain.\n\nThe newcomer was of the aggressive type. She was short and stout, with a\ndetermined-looking face and a rather unattractive personal appearance.\nShe wore a short, thick brown walking-skirt, and a brown linen\nshirt-waist, and heavy common-sense shoes. A plain brown felt hat was\ntied securely to her head by means of a brown veil knotted under her\nchin. She carried in one hand a small suit-case, and in the other a\nstout walking-stick.\n\nPretty Dorothy, in her fluffy summer muslin, looked at the stranger\ncuriously a moment, and then, quickly recovering her poise, said\npolitely: \"Yes, this is a hotel. Are you looking for board?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the stranger, \"I am on a tramp. In fact I _am_ a tramp, a\nlady-tramp. I am spending the whole summer walking about the country,\nenjoying myself.\"\n\n\"You are fond of walking, then?\" said Dorothy, by way of making\nconversation.\n\n\"No, I am not,\" replied the lady-tramp; \"I am doing it to reduce my\nflesh, and I am enjoying myself because I have succeeded. Success is\nalways enjoyable.\"\n\n\"Yes, it is;\" and Dorothy herself, felt a satisfaction in the thought\nthat she too was succeeding in her summer's work.\n\n\"My name,\" went on her visitor, \"is Lucille Dillingham. I tramp all day,\nand at night I stay at any hotel or farmhouse near which I happen to\nfind myself. And so I want to stay at this hotel to-night, and if you\nwill tell me where to find the proprietor, I won't trouble you further.\"\n\n\"I am the proprietor,\" said Dorothy, smiling, for she felt quite sure\nthis statement would surprise Miss Lucille Dillingham.\n\n\"If that's a joke,\" was the response, \"I can't see any particular fun in\nit. But no matter, I will inquire at the hotel myself.\"\n\n\"But truly, Miss Dillingham, I am the proprietor,\" and Dorothy stood up\nand put on the most dignified air of which she was capable. \"I am\nDorothy Dorrance, and this hotel is the property of my grandmother; but\nI am the acknowledged proprietor, and I shall be very glad to talk to\nyou as such.\"\n\n\"You don't mean it, child! well if that is not the greatest I ever heard\nof! I am a great believer myself in the capability of women; but for a\ngirl like you to run a hotel, is one ahead of _my_ experience! Tell me\nall about it.\"\n\n\"There isn't much to tell,\" said Dorothy, who was not at all pleasantly\nimpressed by the air and manner of the lady-tramp, and she couldn't help\nthinking to herself that the tramp was more in evidence than the lady.\n\"However,\" she went on, courteously, \"I live here with my grandmother,\nand my brother and two sisters. We have entire charge of this hotel, and\nwe try to manage it in a way to satisfy our guests and ourselves. If\nyou wish to stay for the night, Miss Dillingham, I am sure we can make\nyou comfortable.\"\n\nMiss Dillingham's eyes sparkled.\n\n\"I will do better than that,\" she cried; \"I will stay all the time, and\nI will run the hotel for you. I am a splendid manager, and much better\nfitted for that sort of thing than a frivolous young girl like you. Oh,\nwe'll get along famously!\"\n\nDorothy began to wonder whether Miss Dillingham might not have escaped\nfrom some lunatic asylum, but she only said, \"Thank you very much for\nyour kind offer, but the hotel is running smoothly, and I really can't\nsee the necessity for any change in the administration.\" Just at this\nmoment Fairy came flying across the lawn, and flinging herself into the\nhammock, drew the sides of it together around her athletic little body,\nand with a peculiar kicking motion twisted herself and the hammock over\nand over in a sort of revolving somersault. Then still holding the sides\nshe poked up her golden head, crowned with its big white bow, and gazed\nat the stranger.\n\n\"You must 'scuse me,\" she said, \"for 'pearing so unsuspectedly. But I\nalways come that way when I am in a hurry, and I'm always in a hurry.\"\n\n\"This is my sister Fairy, Miss Dillingham,\" said Dorothy, and Fairy\nbounced out of the hammock, and gracefully offered her hand to the\nstranger.\n\n\"How do you do?\" she said. \"I am very glad to see you, and I hope you\nhave come to stay, 'cause it's time we had some new boarders. I am\n'fraid we are running behind with our 'spenses.\"\n\nDorothy bit her lip to keep from laughing at Fairy's attitude of\nproprietorship, and Miss Dillingham stared at the child in blank\namazement.\n\n\"Ah,\" she said, \"is this another proprietor of this very remarkable\nhotel?\"\n\n\"I'm not purporietor,\" said Fairy, \"my sister is that; and my brother is\nclerk. I am just a general helper, and sometimes I help with the babies\nand the parrot.\"\n\nMiss Dillingham seemed more and more bewildered, but she said, \"I think\nyou're all lunatics, and need somebody to look after you, and straighten\nyou out. I shall stay here for the night, and look into this thing. It\ninterests me extremely. Pray have you many boarders, and are they all as\ncrazy as yourselves?\"\n\nDorothy resented this question, but she kept her temper under control,\nand replied, \"We have a number of boarders and we consider them quite\nsane, and they seem to think us so. If you wish to stay for the night, I\nwill take you to the house at once and give you a room.\"\n\nMiss Dillingham gave a sort of exasperated sniff, which Dorothy took to\nmean acquiescence, and they all started for the house.\n\nFairy walked backwards in front of the others, whirling all the way\nround, now and then, to make sure her path was clear.\n\n\"Did you really think we were crazy?\" she asked, much interested in the\nidea.\n\n\"I did,\" replied Miss Dillingham, \"and I am not yet convinced to the\ncontrary.\"\n\nSuddenly Fairy realized that this was another occasion for registration,\nand with one of her loudest shrieks at the thought, she darted towards\nthe house and disappeared through the front door.\n\n\"Leicester!\" she cried, and then with a prolonged yell, \"Les--ter!\"\nLeicester appeared by a jump through a window. \"What's up?\" he said.\n\n\"Oh, Less, there's a new boarder, and she's crazy, and she thinks we\nare, and she will want to register. Do get in the coop, quick!\"\n\nGrasping the situation, Leicester flung himself through the wicket door\nand behind the office desk. In a jiffy, he had assumed his clerkly air,\nand had opened the great register at the proper date.\n\nWhen Dorothy appeared, a moment later, with Miss Dillingham, Leicester\noffered the pen to the newcomer with such a businesslike air that there\nseemed really no further room to doubt the responsibility of the hotel\nmanagement. Then he rang a bell, and in a moment Mr. Hickox appeared,\nand with the deferential demeanor of a porter picked up Miss\nDillingham's suit-case and stick.\n\nThen Dorothy escorted the lady-tramp to her room, and returned a few\nmoments later, to find the other children waiting for an explanation.\n\n\"Where did you catch it?\" asked Leicester.\n\n\"What is it?\" inquired Lilian.\n\n\"It's only for one night,\" explained Dorothy, laughing; \"but, Less, she\nwants to run the hotel! She thinks we aren't responsible!\"\n\nIt really seemed inevitable, so Lilian started the Dorrance groan. The\nothers took it up, with their usual enthusiasm, and though it was of\nlate a forbidden indulgence, they let themselves go for once, and the\nresult was an unearthly din that brought grandma to the scene at once.\n\n\"Children!\" she exclaimed. \"You know you promised not to do that!\"\n\n\"I know, grandma,\" explained Fairy, \"but truly, this is a specialty\noccasion. You don't know what's happened, and what she wants to do.\"\n\nBut before Mrs. Dorrance could learn what had happened, the\nnewly-registered guest herself, came flying down the staircase.\n\n\"What _is_ the matter?\" she cried; \"is the house on fire? Has anybody\nbeen killed?\"\n\n\"We must 'pollergize, Miss Dillingham,\" spoke up Fairy; \"that's our\nDorrance groan, it belongs to the family; we don't use it much up here,\n'cause it wakes up the baby and otherwise irritations the boarders.\"\n\n\"I should think it would,\" put in Miss Dillingham, with conviction.\n\n\"Yes, it does,\" went on Fairy, agreeably; \"and so you see, we don't 'low\nourselves to 'spress our feelings that way very often. But to-day we had\na purtickular reason for it, and so somehow we found ourselves\na-groaning before we knew it.\"\n\nIgnoring Fairy and her voluble explanation, Miss Dillingham turned to\nMrs. Dorrance, and inquired with dignity: \"Are you the lady of the\nhouse?\"\n\n\"I am the owner of the house,\" said Grandma Dorrance, with her own\ngentle dignity, \"and my granddaughter Dorothy is in charge of it. I\nmust ask you to forgive the disturbance the children just made, and I\nthink I can safely assure you it will not happen again.\"\n\nGrandma Dorrance looked at her grandchildren, with an air of confidence\nthat was responded to by a look of loving loyalty from each pair of\nlaughing young eyes.\n\n\"I don't understand it at all,\" said Miss Dillingham; \"but I will now\nreturn to my room, and take a short nap, if the house can be kept quiet.\nThen later, I have a proposition which I wish to lay before you, and\nwhich will doubtless prove advantageous to all concerned.\"\n\nMiss Dillingham stalked majestically up the stairs again, and the\nDorrances consulted as to what she could mean by her extraordinary\nproposition.\n\n\"I know,\" said Dorothy, \"she wants to run the hotel. She informed me\nthat she was much better qualified for such a business than I am.\"\n\n\"Oh, ho!\" cried Leicester, \"she is, is she! Well I like her nerve!\"\n\n\"I wish she hadn't come,\" said Fairy, beginning to cry. \"I don't want\nher to run this hotel, and Dorothy and all of us only be just boarders.\"\n\n\"Don't cry, Fairy, whatever you do,\" exclaimed Leicester. \"If you put up\none of your best crying-spells, it will make more noise than the groan\ndid, and our new friend will come racing down-stairs again.\"\n\nThis suggestion silenced Fairy, and Leicester went on: \"Do you really\nmean, Dot, that she proposed seriously to take charge of the Domain?\"\n\n\"Yes, she did; and I think she expects to make a business proposition to\nthat effect.\"\n\n\"All right, then; let's give her as good as she sends. Let's pretend\nthat we entertain her proposition, and see what she has to say for\nherself.\"\n\n\"You'd better be careful,\" said Lilian, the practical, \"sometimes people\nget caught in their own trap; and if you pretend you're going to let her\nhave charge of affairs here, first thing you know she'll be at the head\nof things, and we will all be nowhere.\"\n\n\"Huh!\" exclaimed Dorothy. \"I'm not afraid of being dethroned by any\nlady-tramp that happens along. Just let her try it!\"\n\n\"However she might frighten us singly,\" said Leicester, \"I rather guess\nthat the Dorrance family as a whole, can stand up for their rights.\"\n\n\"Don't be foolish, children,\" said grandma; \"Dorothy must have\nmisunderstood the lady. She couldn't have meant to make such a strange\nproposition at a moment's notice.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nBut apparently that is just what Miss Lucille Dillingham did mean. For\nthat evening, after dinner, she gathered the Dorrance children round her\nin one of the small drawing-rooms, and talked to them in a\nstraightforward if unacceptable way.\n\n\"Now don't say a word,\" she said, \"until I have thoroughly explained my\nintention.\"\n\n\"We won't say a word, Miss Dillingham,\" said Fairy, \"until you say your\nspeech. But please say it plain, 'cause I'm the littlest one and\nsometimes I can't understand big words. 'Course I say big words myself,\nsometimes, but I understand my own, only other people's aren't always\ntellergibble to me. And so, you see I just have to----\"\n\n\"That will do, Fairy,\" interrupted Leicester; \"we've agreed not to do\nour talking until Miss Dillingham is through.\"\n\n\"In a few words, then,\" began Miss Dillingham, with the air of one who\nis satisfied of a foregone conclusion, \"I want to say that in the few\nhours I have been here I have thoroughly acquainted myself with the\nconditions and possibilities of this hotel. And I have discovered that\nit is improperly managed by incompetent hands, and that it is,\ntherefore, a lucky stroke of fortune for you that I happened along just\nnow. I propose to assume entire charge of the hotel, give it a new name,\nestablish new methods of management, and control absolutely the receipts\nand expenditures.\"\n\nIf the four Dorrances hadn't been possessed of a strong sense of humor,\nthey would have been appalled by this extraordinary proposition. As it\nwas, it struck them all as being very funny, and though with difficulty\nrestraining a smile, Leicester inquired, with every appearance of\nserious interest, \"And where do we come in?\"\n\n\"You will be merely boarders,\" announced Miss Dillingham, \"and can run\nand play as befits children of your ages. It may seem strange to you at\nfirst, that I should make you this generous proposition on so short an\nacquaintance, but it is my habit to make quick decisions, and I rarely\nregret them.\"\n\n\"Would you mind telling us your reasons for wanting to do this thing?\"\nasked Lilian.\n\n\"My reasons are perhaps too subtle for young minds to understand. They\nare partly ethical, for I cannot make it seem right that a girl of\nsixteen should be so weighted with responsibility; and, too, I am\nactuated in part by motives of personal advantage. I may say the project\nseems to possess a pecuniary interest for me----\"\n\n\"Miss Dillingham,\" said Fairy fixing her wide-open eyes on the lady's\nface, \"'scuse me for interrupting, but truly I can't understand all\nthose words. What does etherkle mean? and what is tercumerary? They are\nnice words and I would like to save them to use myself, if I knew a\nlittle bit what they meant.\"\n\n\"Never mind what they mean, Fairy,\" said Leicester; \"and Miss\nDillingham, it is not necessary for us to consider this matter any\nfurther. You have made your proposition, and I am sure that I speak for\nthe four of us, when I say that we decline it absolutely and without\nfurther discussion.\"\n\nWhen Leicester chose, he could adopt a tone and manner that seemed far\nmore like a man, than like a boy of his years; and Miss Dillingham\nsuddenly realized that she was not dealing with quite such childish\nminds as she had supposed.\n\n\"My brother is quite right,\" said Dorothy, and she, too, put on her most\ngrown-up manner, which, by the way, was very grown-up indeed. \"Although\nsurprised at what you have said, we understand clearly your offer, and\nwe respectfully but very positively decline it _in toto_.\"\n\nAs Dorothy confessed afterwards, she didn't know exactly what _in toto_\nmeant, but she felt quite certain it came in appropriately just there.\n\nMiss Dillingham seemed to think so too, or at any rate she was impressed\nby the attitude of the Dorrance young people, and without a further\nword, she rose and stalked away and they saw her no more that night. The\nnext morning she was up early and after a somewhat curt leave-taking,\nshe tramped away.\n\n\"I think I could have liked her,\" said Dorothy, thoughtfully, \"if she\nhadn't tried to steal away from us our Dorrance Domain.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nDOROTHY'S REWARD\n\n\nFairy continued her weekly visits to Mrs. Hickox, but she was positively\nforbidden by her hostess ever to bring any one with her.\n\nMrs. Hickox was possessed of a peculiar kind of shyness, and she shrank\nfrom meeting people more sophisticated than herself. She had become\ndevotedly attached to Fairy, and really looked forward eagerly to the\nafternoons the child spent with her. She continued to be surprised at\nthe doings of the Dorrances, but had never been to the Domain since her\nfirst call upon the family.\n\n\"Mr. Hickox tells me you've got a roof-garden,\" she said to Fairy one\nday, as they sat sociably in the milk-room. \"Now for the land's sake do\ntell me what that is. Is it the thing that runs by electrics?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Fairy, who never laughed at Mrs. Hickox's ignorance; \"it's\nthe _Shooting Star_ that runs by electricity; the roof-garden doesn't\nrun at all,--it just stays still.\"\n\n\"Well what is it, anyhow?\"\n\n\"Why, the roof-garden is just a garden on the roof.\"\n\n\"A garden on a roof! well I _am_ surprised! What do you raise in the\ngarden? peas and beans? It must be an awful trouble to get the dirt up\nthere, and to get the water up there to water things with. As for\ngetting the potatoes and pumpkins down, I suppose you can just throw\nthem down,--though I must say I should think it would spoil the\npumpkins.\"\n\n\"Oh, we don't raise vegetables in the roof-garden, Mrs. Hickox,\" said\nFairy, laughing in spite of herself.\n\n\"Well, what _do_ you raise?\"\n\n\"Why we don't raise anything; we just stay there.\"\n\n\"Humph! I can't see any garden about that. But I did want to know what\nthe thing was like. 'Cause I cut out a clipping yesterday,--Hickory, he\ngot his shoes home from the cobbler's, and they was wrapped in a piece\nof a New York newspaper; my, but I had a good time! I cut so many\nclippings out of that newspaper, that what's left would do for a picture\nframe. The worst of it was, so many clippings backed up against others,\nand they wasn't the same length. People ought to be more careful how\nthey print their newspapers. Well, as I was saying, I cut out a piece\nabout a roof-garden, but I guess you're right about their not raisin'\nthings in it. My land! I couldn't get head or tail to the whole yarn. So\nthat's why I wanted to ask you just what a roof-garden is. But I ain't\nfound out much.\"\n\nFairy endeavored to explain further, but Mrs. Hickox's mind seemed\nincapable of grasping the real intent of a roof-garden, after all; and\nso after intimating her continued surprise, she changed the subject.\n\nMrs. Hickox was the only one who could sustain the greater part in a\nconversation with Fairy. For some reason the child liked the queer old\nlady, and was contented to listen while she talked; though usually\nFairy's own loquacity was not so easily curbed.\n\n\"I told Hickory, long ago, that that biggest sister of yours would set\nLake Ponetcong on fire yet; or he told me, I don't know which, and it\ndon't make no difference now; but, anyway, I'm free to confess she's\ndone it. To think of a girl of sixteen takin' a pack of boarders into\nthat big hotel, and makin' a success of it! It is surprisin'! and she\ndoes everything up so slick, too. Why, Hickory says the meals is always\non time, and the whole place is always as neat and cleared-up lookin' as\nmy best room.\"\n\n\"My sister Dorothy _is_ a smart girl,\" agreed Fairy, who was always\nready to stand up for her family; \"Mr. Faulkner says she has great\n'zecutive billerty,--and I guess she has.\"\n\n\"You all have,\" said Mrs. Hickox, heartily. \"You're as queer as Dick's\nhatband,--every one of you,--but you're smarter 'n steel-traps. And the\nrest of you work just as good as Dorothy does. You ain't none of you\nshirks. Of course you have lots of help, but I s'pose you need it.\nHickory, he does a lot of work for you, but, land! he gets paid enough,\nso it's all right.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't you like to come over and see the roof-garden?\" asked Fairy,\nthough without much hope that her invitation would be accepted.\n\n\"No, child, no; I ain't got no use for new-fangled doin's. My\nold-fashioned garden is good enough for me. I like to read about things\nin newspapers, but I don't hanker none about being mixed up in 'em. Run\nalong now, here comes Mr. Hickox and he'll be wantin' his supper. Run\nalong, quick now,--good-bye. Well I _am_ surprised!\"\n\nThe last remark was addressed to the approaching Mr. Hickox, but having\nbeen so peremptorily dismissed, Fairy did not turn to see what the new\noccasion for Mrs. Hickox's surprise might be.\n\nThe month of August went pleasantly along at the Dorrance Domain. No new\nboarders were registered, but all who were there, stayed through the\nmonth, and all except the Blacks stayed into the early September. The\nDorrances had given up all idea of Mr. Lloyd's coming to visit them, as\nhe had written earlier in the season that he would do.\n\nBut one day a letter came, saying that he would run up for a couple of\ndays.\n\nAside from their appreciation of Mr. Lloyd's kindness in a business way,\nthe Dorrances all liked that genial gentleman as a friend, and the news\nof his visit was gladly received. The Dorrance Domain was put into gala\ndress for the occasion, and a special program was arranged for the\nevening's entertainment.\n\nHe was taken for a sail in the _Shooting Star_, given a drive behind old\nDobbin, and initiated into the picturesque pleasures of the roof-garden.\n\nMr. Lloyd was most appreciative and enthusiastic; and it was fun for the\nDorrances to see his astonishment at the success of their hotel\nmanagement. Although Grandma Dorrance had written to him what the\nchildren were doing, in a general way, he had formed no idea of the\nmagnitude of their enterprise.\n\nThe second day of his stay they held a family conference in one of the\nsmall parlors. He had told Grandma Dorrance that he wished for a\nbusiness talk with her alone, but she had said that the children were\nquite as capable of understanding their financial situation as she\nherself, if not more so; and that, after their interest and assistance\nthrough the summer, they were entitled to a hearing of whatever Mr.\nLloyd might have to say.\n\nSo the family conclave was called, and Mr. Lloyd took the occasion to\nexpress his hearty appreciation of what they had done.\n\n\"You seem to have the Dorrance grit,\" he said; \"your Grandfather\nDorrance would have been proud of his grandchildren, could he have known\nwhat they would accomplish. He little thought when he bought this hotel\nproperty that his family would ever live here,--let alone running it as\na hotel.\"\n\n\"It seems so strange,\" said Dorothy, \"to think that this old Domain that\nwe've made fun of for so many years, and never thought was good for\nanything, should have helped us through this summer.\"\n\n\"I hope, my dear,\" said Mr. Lloyd, \"that you have been careful and\nprudent about your expenditures. For sometimes, these exciting\nenterprises look very fine and desirable, but are exceedingly costly in\nthe end.\"\n\nMr. Lloyd was a kind friend, and felt great interest in the Dorrance\nfortunes; but his cautious, legal mind, could not avoid a careful\nconsideration of the exact state of their finances.\n\n\"We have kept our accounts very strictly, sir,\" said Dorothy, \"and we\nfind that the Dorrance Domain has entirely supported our family for the\nsummer,--I mean that we are in debt to nobody as a consequence of having\nspent our summer here.\"\n\n\"That is fine, my dear child, that is fine,\" said Mr. Lloyd, rubbing his\nhands together, as he always did when pleased; \"I must congratulate you\non that result.\"\n\n\"And we've had such fun, too,\" exclaimed Fairy, whose big white bow and\nsmiling face suddenly appeared over the back of the sofa which she was\nclambering up. \"I do some of the work, but I don't mind it a bit, and we\nall of us get plenty of time to play, and go sailing, and fishing and\neverything.\" As Fairy continued talking she kept rapidly scrambling over\nthe sofa, down to the floor, under the sofa, and up its back, and over\nit again, repeatedly. This in no way interfered with her flow of\nconversation, and she went on: \"We can make all the racket we like,\ntoo,--nobody minds a speck,--not even Miss Marcia Van Arsdale. She says\nit's nothing but animal spiritualism.\"\n\n\"It has been one of the greatest comforts,\" said Grandma Dorrance, \"to\nthink that the children _could_ make all the noise they wanted to; for I\nsuffered tortures at Mrs. Cooper's, trying to keep them quiet. Here,\nthey are free to do as they choose, and there is room enough to do as\nthey choose, without annoying other people. I think myself, that they\ndeserve great commendation for their work this summer. It has not been\neasy; but fortunately, they are blessed with temperaments that take\ntroubles lightly, and make play out of hard work. But I want you to tell\nus, Mr. Lloyd, just how we stand financially. The children are anxious\nto know, and so am I. They insist that hereafter they shall share my\nanxieties and responsibilities, and I am more than glad to have them do\nso.\"\n\n\"I am gratified, Mrs. Dorrance, and my dear young people, to be able to\ntell you,\"--here Mr. Lloyd paused impressively,--\"to be able to tell you\nthat the outlook is highly satisfactory. Since you have not called upon\nme for any of your money during the summer months, I have been able to\napply it towards the repairs that were so necessary on the Fifty-eighth\nStreet house. Except for a few small bills, that indebtedness is thus\nprovided for. Your next quarter's allowance is, therefore,\nunencumbered.\"\n\n\"I think,\" said Dorothy, her eyes shining in the excitement of the\nmoment, \"that this is a good time to present our statement of accounts.\nWe've been keeping it as a little surprise for grandma, and we want Mr.\nLloyd to know about it too. I wanted Leicester to tell you, and he said\nfor me to tell you; but we all had just as much to do with it as each\nother, so we're all going to tell you together. Come on, all of you.\"\n\nThe other three Dorrances sprang towards Dorothy in their usual\nhop-skip-and-jump fashion, and in a moment they stood in a straight\nline, toeing a mark.\n\nThey took hold of hands, and swinging their arms back and forth, recited\na speech which had evidently been rehearsed before-hand.\n\n\"We've paid all expenses,\" they said, speaking in concert, but not as\nloudly as usual, \"and besides that, we've cleared three hundred\ndollars!\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed Mr. Lloyd, holding up his hands in astonishment.\n\n\"Oh, my dear children!\" cried Grandma Dorrance, uncertain whether she\nshould laugh or weep.\n\n\"Yes, isn't it perfectly wonderful?\" cried Dorothy, and the concerted\nspeech being over, the four children precipitated themselves headlong in\nevery direction.\n\n\"We wanted to holler it all out,\" explained Fairy; \"but we were afraid\nthe boarder-people would hear us, and they mightn't think it polite.\"\n\n\"It's all right,\" said Lilian, stoutly; \"we didn't overcharge anybody,\nand we didn't scrimp them. The reason we made money was because we did\nso much of the work ourselves, and because Dorothy is such a good\nmanager.\"\n\n\"Hurrah for Dorothy,\" shrieked Leicester, in a perfect imitation of Miss\nMarcia's parrot.\n\nThe cheer that went up for Dorothy was deafening, but nobody minded, for\neverybody was so happy.\n\n\"I couldn't have done anything without the others' help,\" protested\nDorothy; \"and of course we couldn't any of us have carried out this plan\nat all, without grandma. So you see it took the whole five of us to make\na success of the Dorrance Domain.\"\n\n\"Hurrah for the Dorrance Domain,\" shouted Fairy, and then every one in\nthe room, not excepting Grandma Dorrance and Mr. Lloyd, cheered from\ntheir very hearts,\n\n\"Hurrah for the Dorrance Domain!\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe Carolyn Wells Books for Girls\n\n\nTHE FAMOUS \"PATTY\" BOOKS\n\n Patty Fairfield\n Patty at Home\n Patty in the City\n Patty's Summer Days\n Patty in Paris\n Patty's Friend\n Patty's Pleasure Trip\n Patty's Success\n Patty's Motor Car\n Patty's Butterfly Days\n Patty's Social Season\n Patty's Suitors\n Patty's Romance\n Patty's Fortune\n Patty Blossom\n Patty--Bride\n Patty and Azalea\n\n\nTHE MARJORIE BOOKS\n\n Marjorie's Vacation\n Marjorie's Busy Days\n Marjorie's New Friend\n Marjorie in Command\n Marjorie's Maytime\n Marjorie at Seacote\n\n\nTWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES\n\n Two Little Women\n Two Little Women and Treasure House\n Two Little Women on a Holiday\n\n * * * * *\n\nTHE TOM SWIFT SERIES\n\nBy VICTOR APPLETON\n\nAuthor of \"The Don Sturdy Series.\"\n\n\nTom Swift, known to millions of boys of this generation, is a bright\ningenious youth whose inventions, discoveries and thrilling adventures\nare described in these spirited tales that tell of the wonderful\nadvances in modern science.\n\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR BOAT\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRSHIP\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIRELESS MESSAGE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RUNABOUT\n TOM SWIFT AMONG THE DIAMOND MAKERS\n TOM SWIFT IN THE CAVES OF ICE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY RACER\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC RIFLE\n TOM SWIFT IN THE CITY OF GOLD\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR GLIDER\n TOM SWIFT IN CAPTIVITY\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS WIZARD CAMERA\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT SEARCHLIGHT\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT CANNON\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG TUNNEL\n TOM SWIFT IN THE LAND OF WONDERS\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS WAR TANK\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIR SCOUT\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS UNDERSEA SEARCH\n TOM SWIFT AMONG THE FIRE FIGHTERS\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS ELECTRIC LOCOMOTIVE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS FLYING BOAT\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS GREAT OIL GUSHER\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS CHEST OF SECRETS\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS AIRLINE EXPRESS\n TOM SWIFT CIRCLING THE GLOBE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS TALKING PICTURES\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS HOUSE ON WHEELS\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS BIG DIRIGIBLE\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS SKY TRAIN\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS GIANT MAGNET\n TOM SWIFT AND HIS TELEVISION DETECTOR\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Dorrance Domain, by Carolyn Wells\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Brendan Lane, Stacy Brown Thellend and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n_THE MAKERS OF CANADA_\n\n\nBISHOP LAVAL\n\nBY\n\nA. LEBLOND DE BRUMATH\n\n\n\n\nTORONTO\n\nMORANG & CO., LIMITED\n\n1912\n\n\n\n\n_Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the year 1906\nby Morang & Co., Limited, in the Department of Agriculture._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n Page\n_CHAPTER I_\nESTABLISHMENT OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN\nCANADA 1\n\n_CHAPTER II_\nTHE EARLY YEARS OF FRANCOIS DE LAVAL 15\n\n_CHAPTER III_\nTHE SOVEREIGN COUNCIL 31\n\n_CHAPTER IV_\nESTABLISHMENT OF THE SEMINARY 47\n\n_CHAPTER V_\nMGR. DE LAVAL AND THE SAVAGES 61\n\n_CHAPTER VI_\nSETTLEMENT OF THE COLONY 77\n\n_CHAPTER VII_\nTHE SMALLER SEMINARY 97\n\n_CHAPTER VIII_\nTHE PROGRESS OF THE COLONY 113\n\n_CHAPTER IX_\nBECOMES BISHOP OF QUEBEC 129\n\n_CHAPTER X_\nFRONTENAC IS APPOINTED GOVERNOR 143\n\n_CHAPTER XI_\nA TROUBLED ADMINISTRATION 157\n\n_CHAPTER XII_\nTHIRD VOYAGE TO FRANCE 169\n\n_CHAPTER XIII_\nLAVAL RETURNS TO CANADA 181\n\n_CHAPTER XIV_\nRESIGNATION OF MGR. DE LAVAL 195\n\n_CHAPTER XV_\nMGR. DE LAVAL COMES FOR THE LAST TIME TO\nCANADA 211\n\n_CHAPTER XVI_\nMASSACRE OF LACHINE 223\n\n_CHAPTER XVII_\nTHE LABOURS OF OLD AGE 235\n\n_CHAPTER XVIII_\nLAST DAYS OF MGR. DE LAVAL 249\n\n_CHAPTER XIX_\nDEATH OF MGR. DE LAVAL 261\n\nINDEX 271\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nESTABLISHMENT OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH\nIN CANADA\n\n\nIf, standing upon the threshold of the twentieth century, we cast a look\nbehind us to note the road traversed, the victories gained by the great\narmy of Christ, we discover everywhere marvels of abnegation and\nsacrifice; everywhere we see rising before us the dazzling figures of\napostles, of doctors of the Church and of martyrs who arouse our\nadmiration and command our respect. There is no epoch, no generation,\neven, which has not given to the Church its phalanx of heroes, its quota\nof deeds of devotion, whether they have become illustrious or have\nremained unknown.\n\nBorn barely three centuries ago, the Christianity of New France has\nenriched history with pages no less glorious than those in which are\nenshrined the lofty deeds of her elders. To the list, already long, of\nworkers for the gospel she has added the names of the Recollets and of\nthe Jesuits, of the Sulpicians and of the Oblate Fathers, who crossed\nthe seas to plant the faith among the hordes of barbarians who inhabited\nthe immense regions to-day known as the Dominion of Canada.\n\nAnd what daring was necessary, in the early days of the colony, to\nplunge into the vast forests of North America! Incessant toil,\nsacrifice, pain and death in its most terrible forms were the price that\nwas gladly paid in the service of God by men who turned their backs upon\nthe comforts of civilized France to carry the faith into the unknown\nwilderness.\n\nThink of what Canada was at the beginning of the seventeenth century!\nInstead of these fertile provinces, covered to-day by luxuriant\nharvests, man's gaze met everywhere only impenetrable forests in which\nthe woodsman's axe had not yet permitted the plough to cleave and\nfertilize the soil; instead of our rich and populous cities, of our\ninnumerable villages daintily perched on the brinks of streams, or\nrising here and there in the midst of verdant plains, the eye perceived\nonly puny wigwams isolated and lost upon the banks of the great river,\nor perhaps a few agglomerations of smoky huts, such as Hochelaga or\nStadacone; instead of our iron rails, penetrating in all directions,\ninstead of our peaceful fields over which trains hasten at marvellous\nspeed from ocean to ocean, there were but narrow trails winding through\na jungle of primeval trees, behind which hid in turn the Iroquois, the\nHuron or the Algonquin, awaiting the propitious moment to let fly the\nfatal arrow; instead of the numerous vessels bearing over the waves of\nthe St. Lawrence, at a distance of more than six hundred leagues from\nthe sea, the products of the five continents; instead of yonder\nfloating palaces, thronged with travellers from the four corners of the\nearth, then only an occasional bark canoe came gliding slyly along by\nthe reeds of the shore, scarcely stopping except to permit its crew to\nkindle a fire, to make prisoners or to scalp some enemy.\n\nA heroic courage was necessary to undertake to carry the faith to these\nsavage tribes. It was condemning one's self to lead a life like theirs,\nof ineffable hardships, dangers and privations, now in a bark canoe and\npaddle in hand, now on foot and bearing upon one's shoulders the things\nnecessary for the holy sacrament; in the least case it was braving\nhunger and thirst, exposing one's self to the rigours of an excessive\ncold, with which European nations were not yet familiar; it often meant\nhastening to meet the most horrible tortures. In spite of all this,\nhowever, Father Le Caron did not hesitate to penetrate as far as the\ncountry of the Hurons, while Fathers Sagard and Viel were sowing the\nfirst seeds of Christianity in the St. Lawrence valley. The devotion of\nthe Recollets, to the family of whom belonged these first missionaries\nof Canada, was but ill-rewarded, for, after the treaty of St.\nGermain-en-Laye, which restored Canada to France, the king refused them\npermission to return to a region which they had watered with the sweat\nof their brows and fertilized with their blood.\n\nThe humble children of St. Francis had already evangelized the Huron\ntribes as far as the Georgian Bay, when the Company of the Cent-Associes\nwas founded by Richelieu. The obligation which the great cardinal\nimposed upon them of providing for the maintenance of the propagators of\nthe gospel was to assure the future existence of the missions. The\nmerit, however, which lay in the creation of a society which did so much\nfor the furtherance of Roman Catholicism in North America is not due\nexclusively to the great cardinal, for Samuel de Champlain can claim a\nlarge share of it. \"The welfare of a soul,\" said this pious founder of\nQuebec, \"is more than the conquest of an empire, and kings should think\nof extending their rule in infidel countries only to assure therein the\nreign of Jesus Christ.\"\n\nThink of the suffering endured, in order to save a soul, by men who for\nthis sublime purpose renounced all that constitutes the charm of life!\nNot only did the Jesuits, in the early days of the colony, brave\nhorrible dangers with invincible steadfastness, but they even consented\nto imitate the savages, to live their life, to learn their difficult\nidioms. Let us listen to this magnificent testimony of the Protestant\nhistorian Bancroft:--\n\n\"The horrors of a Canadian life in the wilderness were resisted by an\ninvincible, passive courage, and a deep, internal tranquillity. Away\nfrom the amenities of life, away from the opportunities of vain-glory,\nthey became dead to the world, and possessed their souls in unalterable\npeace. The few who lived to grow old, though bowed by the toils of a\nlong mission, still kindled with the fervour of apostolic zeal. The\nhistory of their labours is connected with the origin of every\ncelebrated town in the annals of French Canada; not a cape was turned\nnor a river entered but a Jesuit led the way.\"\n\nMust we now recall the edifying deaths of the sons of Loyola, who\nbrought the glad tidings of the gospel to the Hurons?--Father Jogues,\nwho returned from the banks of the Niagara with a broken shoulder and\nmutilated hands, and went back, with sublime persistence, to his\nbarbarous persecutors, to pluck from their midst the palm of martyrdom;\nFather Daniel, wounded by a spear while he was absolving the dying in\nthe village of St. Joseph; Father Brebeuf, refusing to escape with the\nwomen and children of the hamlet of St. Louis, and expiring, together\nwith Father Gabriel Lalemant, in the most frightful tortures that Satan\ncould suggest to the imagination of a savage; Father Charles Garnier\npierced with three bullets, and giving up the ghost while blessing his\nconverts; Father de Noue dying on his knees in the snow!\n\nThese missions had succumbed in 1648 and 1649 under the attacks of the\nIroquois. The venerable founder of St. Sulpice, M. Olier, had foreseen\nthis misfortune; he had always doubted the success of missions so\nextended and so widely scattered without a centre of support\nsufficiently strong to resist a systematic and concerted attack of all\ntheir enemies at once. Without disapproving the despatch of these flying\ncolumns of missionaries which visited tribe after tribe (perhaps the\nonly possible method in a country governed by pagan chiefs), he believed\nthat another system of preaching the gospel would produce, perhaps with\nless danger, a more durable effect in the regions protected by the flag\nof France. Taking up again the thought of the Benedictine monks, who\nhave succeeded so well in other countries, M. Olier and the other\nfounders of Montreal wished to establish a centre of fervent piety which\nshould accomplish still more by example than by preaching. The\ndevelopment and progress of religious work must increase with the\nmaterial importance of this centre of proselytism. In consequence,\nsuccess would be slow, less brilliant, but surer than that ordinarily\nobtained by separate missions. This was, at least, the hope of our\nfathers, and we of Quebec would seem unjust towards Providence and\ntowards them if, beholding the present condition of the two seminaries\nof this city, of our Catholic colleges, of our institutions of every\nkind, and of our religious orders, we did not recognize that their\nthought was wise, and their enterprise one of prudence and blessed by\nGod.\n\nUp to 1658 New France belonged to the jurisdiction of the Bishops of St.\nMalo and of Rouen. At the time of the second voyage of Cartier, in\n1535, his whole crew, with their officers at their head, confessed and\nreceived communion from the hands of the Bishop of St. Malo. This\njurisdiction lasted until the appointment of the first Bishop of New\nFrance. The creation of a diocese came in due time; the need of an\necclesiastical superior, of a character capable of imposing his\nauthority made itself felt more and more. Disorders of all kinds crept\ninto the colony, and our fathers felt the necessity of a firm and\nvigorous arm to remedy this alarming state of affairs. The love of\nlucre, of gain easily acquired by the sale of spirituous liquors to the\nsavages, brought with it evils against which the missionaries\nendeavoured to react.\n\nFrancois de Laval-Montmorency, who was called in his youth the Abbe de\nMontigny, was, on the recommendation of the Jesuits, appointed apostolic\nvicar by Pope Alexander VII, who conferred upon him the title of Bishop\nof Petraea _in partibus_. The Church in Canada was then directly\nconnected with the Holy See, and the sovereign pontiff abandoned to the\nking of France the right of appointment and presentation of bishops\nhaving the authority of apostolic vicars.\n\nThe difficulties which arose between Mgr. de Laval and the Abbe de\nQueylus, Grand Vicar of Rouen for Canada, were regrettable, but, thanks\nto the truly apostolic zeal and the purity of intention of these two men\nof God, these difficulties were not long in giving place to a noble\nrivalry for good, fostered by a perfect harmony. The Abbe de Queylus had\ncome to take possession of the Island of Montreal for the company of St.\nSulpice, and to establish there a seminary on the model of that in\nParis. This creation, with that of the hospital established by Mlle.\nMance, gave a great impetus to the young city of Montreal. Moreover,\nreligion was so truly the motive of the foundation of the colony by M.\nOlier and his associates, that the latter had placed the Island of\nMontreal under the protection of the Holy Virgin. The priests of St.\nSulpice, who had become the lords of the island, had already given an\nearnest of their labours; they too aspired to venerate martyrs chosen\nfrom their ranks, and in the same year MM. Lemaitre and Vignal perished\nat the hands of the wild Iroquois.\n\nMeanwhile, under the paternal direction of Mgr. de Laval, and the\nthoroughly Christian administration of governors like Champlain, de\nMontmagny, d'Ailleboust, or of leaders like Maisonneuve and Major\nClosse, Heaven was pleased to spread its blessings upon the rising\ncolony; a number of savages asked and received baptism, and the fervour\nof the colonists endured. The men were not the only ones to spread the\ngood word; holy maidens worked on their part for the glory of God,\nwhether in the hospitals of Quebec and Montreal, or in the institution\nof the Ursulines in the heart of the city of Champlain, or, finally, in\nthe modest school founded at Ville-Marie by Sister Marguerite\nBourgeoys. It is true that the blood of the Indians and of their\nmissionaries had been shed in floods, that the Huron missions had been\nexterminated, and that, moreover, two camps of Algonquins had been\ndestroyed and swept away; but nations as well as individuals may promise\nthemselves the greater progress in the spiritual life according as they\ncommence it with a more abundant and a richer record; and the greatest\ntreasure of a nation is the blood of the martyrs who have founded it.\nMoreover, the fugitive Hurons went to convert their enemies, and even\nfrom the funeral pyres of the priests was to spring the spark of faith\nfor all these peoples. Two hamlets were founded for the converted\nIroquois, those of the Sault St. Louis (Caughnawaga) and of La Montagne\nat Montreal, and fervent neophytes gathered there.\n\nCertain historians have regretted that the first savages encountered by\nthe French in North America should have been Hurons; an alliance made\nwith the Iroquois, they say, would have been a hundred times more\nprofitable for civilization and for France. What do we know about it?\nMan imagines and arranges his plans, but above these arrangements hovers\nProvidence--fools say, chance--whose foreseeing hand sets all in order\nfor the accomplishment of His impenetrable design. Yet, however firmly\nconvinced the historian may be that the eye of Providence never sleeps,\nthat the Divine Hand is never still, he must be sober in his\nobservations; he must yield neither to his fancy nor to his imagination;\nbut neither must he banish God from history, for then everything in it\nwould become incomprehensible and inexplicable, absurd and barren. It\nwas this same God who guides events at His will that inspired and\nsustained the devoted missionaries in their efforts against the\nrevenue-farmers in the matter of the sale of intoxicating liquors to the\nsavages. The struggle which they maintained, supported by the venerable\nBishop of Petraea, is wholly to their honour; it was a question of saving\neven against their will the unfortunate children of the woods who were\naddicted to the fatal passion of intoxication. Unhappily, the Governors\nd'Avaugour and de Mezy, in supporting the greed of the traders, were\nperhaps right from the political point of view, but certainly wrong from\na philanthropic and Christian standpoint.\n\nThe colony continuing to prosper, and the growing need of a national\nclergy becoming more and more felt, Mgr. de Laval founded in 1663 a\nseminary at Quebec. The king decided that the tithes raised from the\ncolonists should be collected by the seminary, which was to provide for\nthe maintenance of the priests and for divine service in the established\nparishes. The Sovereign Council fixed the tithe at a twenty-sixth.\n\nThe missionaries continued, none the less, to spread the light of the\ngospel and Christian civilization. It seems that the field of their\nlabour had never been too vast for their desire. Ever onward! was their\nmotto. While Fathers Garreau and Mesnard found death among the\nAlgonquins on the coasts of Lake Superior, the Sulpicians Dollier and\nGallinee were planting the cross on the shores of Lake Erie; Father\nClaude Allouez was preaching the gospel beyond Lake Superior; Fathers\nDablon, Marquette, and Druilletes were establishing the mission of Sault\nSte. Marie; Father Albanel was proceeding to explore Hudson Bay; Father\nMarquette, acting with Joliet, was following the course of the\nMississippi as far as Arkansas; finally, later on, Father Arnaud\naccompanied La Verendrye as far as the Rocky Mountains.\n\nThe establishment of the Catholic religion in Canada had now witnessed\nits darkest days; its history becomes intimately interwoven with that of\nthe country. Up to the English conquest, the clergy and the different\nreligious congregations, as faithful to France as to the Holy See,\nencouraged the Canadians in their struggles against the invaders.\nAccordingly, at the time of the invasion of the colony by Phipps, the\nAmericans of Boston declared that they would spare neither monks nor\nmissionaries if they succeeded in seizing Quebec; they bore a particular\ngrudge against the priests of the seminary, to whom they ascribed the\nravages committed shortly before in New England by the Abenaquis. They\nwere punished for their boasting; forty seminarists assembled at St.\nJoachim, the country house of the seminary, joined the volunteers who\nfought at Beauport, and contributed so much to the victory that\nFrontenac, to recompense their bravery, presented them with a cannon\ncaptured by themselves.\n\nThe Church of Rome had been able to continue in peace its mission in\nCanada from the departure of Mgr. de Laval, in 1684, to the conquest of\nthe country by the English. The worthy Bishop of Petraea, created Bishop\nof Quebec in 1674, was succeeded by Mgr. de St. Vallier, then by Mgr. de\nMornay, who did not come to Canada, by Mgr. de Dosquet, Mgr. Pourroy de\nl'Aube-Riviere, and Mgr. de Pontbriant, who died the very year in which\nGeneral de Levis made of his flags on St. Helen's Island a sacred pyre.\n\nIn 1760 the Protestant religion was about to penetrate into Canada in\nthe train of the victorious armies of Great Britain, having been\nproscribed in the colony from the time of Champlain. With conquerors of\na different religion, the role of the Catholic clergy became much more\narduous and delicate; this will be readily admitted when we recall that\nMgr. Briand was informally apprised at the time of his appointment that\nthe government of England would appear to be ignorant of his\nconsecration and induction by the Bishop of Rome. But the clergy managed\nto keep itself on a level with its task. A systematic opposition on its\npart to the new masters of the country could only have drawn upon the\nwhole population a bitter oppression, and we would not behold to-day the\nprosperity of these nine ecclesiastical provinces of Canada, with their\ntwenty-four dioceses, these numerous parishes which vie with each other\nin the advancement of souls, these innumerable religious houses which\neverywhere are spreading education or charity. The Act of Quebec in 1774\ndelivered our fathers from the unjust fetters fastened on their freedom\nby the oath required under the Supremacy Act; but it is to the prudence\nof Mgr. Plessis in particular that Catholics owe the religious liberty\nwhich they now enjoy.\n\nTo-day, when passions are calmed, when we possess a full and complete\nliberty of conscience, to-day when the different religious denominations\nlive side by side in mutual respect and tolerance of each other's\nconvictions, let us give thanks to the spiritual guides who by their\nwisdom and moderation, but also by their energetic resistance when it\nwas necessary, knew how to preserve for us our language and our\nreligion. Let us always respect the worthy prelates who, like those who\ndirect us to-day, edify us by their tact, their knowledge and their\nvirtues.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE EARLY YEARS OF FRANCOIS DE LAVAL\n\n\nCertain great men pass through the world like meteors; their brilliance,\nlightning-like at their first appearance, continues to cast a dazzling\ngleam across the centuries: such were Alexander the Great, Mozart,\nShakespeare and Napoleon. Others, on the contrary, do not instantly\ncommand the admiration of the masses; it is necessary, in order that\ntheir transcendent merit should appear, either that the veil which\ncovered their actions should be gradually lifted, or that, some fine\nday, and often after their death, the results of their work should shine\nforth suddenly to the eyes of men and prove their genius: such were\nSocrates, Themistocles, Jacquard, Copernicus, and Christopher Columbus.\n\nThe illustrious ecclesiastic who has given his name to our\nFrench-Canadian university, respected as he was by his contemporaries,\nhas been esteemed at his proper value only by posterity. The reason is\neasy to understand: a colony still in its infancy is subject to many\nfluctuations before all the wheels of government move smoothly, and Mgr.\nde Laval, obliged to face ever renewed conflicts of authority, had\nnecessarily either to abandon what he considered it his duty to\nsupport, or create malcontents. If sometimes he carried persistence to\nthe verge of obstinacy, he must be judged in relation to the period in\nwhich he lived: governors like Frontenac were only too anxious to\nimitate their absolute master, whose guiding maxim was, \"I am the\nstate!\" Moreover, where are the men of true worth who have not found\nupon their path the poisoned fruits of hatred? The so-called praise that\nis sometimes applied to a man, when we say of him, \"he has not a single\nenemy,\" seems to us, on the contrary, a certificate of insignificance\nand obscurity. The figure of this great servant of God is one of those\nwhich shed the most glory on the history of Canada; the age of Louis\nXIV, so marvellous in the number of great men which it gave to France,\nlavished them also upon her daughter of the new continent--Brebeuf and\nLalemant, de Maisonneuve, Dollard, Laval, Talon, de la Salle, Frontenac,\nd'Iberville, de Maricourt, de Sainte-Helene, and many others.\n\n\"Noble as a Montmorency\" says a well-known adage. The founder of that\nillustrious line, Bouchard, Lord of Montmorency, figures as early as 950\nA.D. among the great vassals of the kingdom of France. The\nheads of this house bore formerly the titles of First Christian Barons\nand of First Barons of France; it became allied to several royal houses,\nand gave to the elder daughter of the Church several cardinals, six\nconstables, twelve marshals, four admirals, and a great number of\ndistinguished generals and statesmen. Sprung from this family, whose\norigin is lost in the night of time, Francois de Laval-Montmorency was\nborn at Montigny-sur-Avre, in the department of Eure-et-Loir, on April\n30th, 1623. This charming village, which still exists, was part of the\nimportant diocese of Chartres. Through his father, Hugues de Laval,\nSeigneur of Montigny, Montbeaudry, Alaincourt and Revercourt, the future\nBishop of Quebec traced his descent from Count Guy de Laval, younger son\nof the constable Mathieu de Montmorency, and through his mother,\nMichelle de Pericard, he belonged to a family of hereditary officers of\nthe Crown, which was well-known in Normandy, and gave to the Church a\ngoodly number of prelates.\n\nLike St. Louis, one of the protectors of his ancestors, the young\nFrancois was indebted to his mother for lessons and examples of piety\nand of charity which he never forgot. Virtue, moreover, was as natural\nto the Lavals as bravery on the field of battle, and whether it were in\nthe retinue of Clovis, when the First Barons received the regenerating\nwater of baptism, or on the immortal plain of Bouvines; whether it were\nby the side of Blanche of Castile, attacked by the rebellious nobles, or\nin the terrible holocaust of Crecy; whether it were in the _fight of the\ngiants_ at Marignan, or after Pavia during the captivity of the\n_roi-gentilhomme_; everywhere where country and religion appealed to\ntheir defenders one was sure of hearing shouted in the foremost ranks\nthe motto of the Montmorencys: _\"Dieu ayde au premier baron chretien!\"_\n\nYoung Laval received at the baptismal font the name of the heroic\nmissionary to the Indies, Francois-Xavier. To this saint and to the\nfounder of the Franciscans, Francois d'Assise, he devoted throughout his\nlife an ardent worship. Of his youth we hardly know anything except the\nmisfortunes which happened to his family. He was only fourteen years old\nwhen, in 1636, he suffered the loss of his father, and one of his near\nkinsmen, Henri de Montmorency, grand marshal of France, and governor of\nLanguedoc, beheaded by the order of Richelieu. The bravery displayed by\nthis valiant warrior in battle unfortunately did not redeem the fault\nwhich he had committed in rebelling against the established power,\nagainst his lawful master, Louis XIII, and in neglecting thus the\ntraditions handed down to him by his family through more than seven\ncenturies of glory.\n\nSome historians reproach Richelieu with cruelty, but in that troublous\nage when, hardly free from the wars of religion, men rushed carelessly\non into the rebellions of the duc d'Orleans and the duc de Soissons,\ninto the conspiracies of Chalais, of Cinq-Mars and de Thou, soon\nfollowed by the war of La Fronde, it was not by an indulgence synonymous\nwith weakness that it was possible to strengthen the royal power. Who\nknows if it was not this energy of the great cardinal which inspired the\nyoung Francois, at an age when sentiment is so deeply impressed upon the\nsoul, with those ideas of firmness which distinguished him later on?\n\nThe future Bishop of Quebec was then a scholar in the college of La\nFleche, directed by the Jesuits, for his pious parents held nothing\ndearer than the education of their children in the fear of God and love\nof the good. They had had six children; the two first had perished in\nthe flower of their youth on fields of battle; Francois, who was now the\neldest, inherited the name and patrimony of Montigny, which he gave up\nlater on to his brother Jean-Louis, which explains why he was called for\nsome time Abbe de Montigny, and resumed later the generic name of the\nfamily of Laval; the fifth son, Henri de Laval, joined the Benedictine\nmonks and became prior of La Croix-Saint-Leuffroy. Finally the only\nsister of Mgr. Laval, Anne Charlotte, became Mother Superior of the\nreligious community of the Daughters of the Holy Sacrament.\n\nFrancois edified the comrades of his early youth by his ardent piety,\nand his tender respect for the house of God; his masters, too, clever as\nthey were in the art of guiding young men and of distinguishing those\nwho were to shine later on, were not slow in recognizing his splendid\nqualities, the clear-sightedness and breadth of his intelligence, and\nhis wonderful memory. As a reward for his good conduct he was admitted\nto the privileged ranks of those who comprised the Congregation of the\nHoly Virgin. We know what good these admirable societies, founded by the\nsons of Loyola, have accomplished and still accomplish daily in Catholic\nschools the world over. Societies which vie with each other in piety and\nencouragement of virtue, they inspire young people with the love of\nprayer, the habits of regularity and of holy practices.\n\nThe congregation of the college of La Fleche had then the good fortune\nof being directed by Father Bagot, one of those superior priests always\nso numerous in the Company of Jesus. At one time confessor to King Louis\nXIII, Father Bagot was a profound philosopher and an eminent theologian.\nIt was under his clever direction that the mind of Francois de Laval was\nformed, and we shall witness later the germination of the seed which the\nlearned Jesuit sowed in the soul of his beloved scholar.\n\nAt this period great families devoted to God from early youth the\nyounger members who showed inclination for the religious life. Francois\nwas only nine years old when he received the tonsure, and fifteen when\nhe was appointed canon of the cathedral of Evreux. Without the revenues\nwhich he drew from his prebend, he would not have been able to continue\nhis literary studies; the death of his father, in fact, had left his\nfamily in a rather precarious condition of fortune. He was to remain to\nthe end of his career the pupil of his preferred masters, for it was\nunder them that, having at the age of nineteen left the institution\nwhere he had brilliantly completed his classical education, he studied\nphilosophy and theology at the College de Clermont at Paris.\n\nHe was plunged in these noble studies, when two terrible blows fell upon\nhim; he learned of the successive deaths of his two eldest brothers, who\nhad fallen gloriously, one at Freiburg, the other at Noerdlingen. He\nbecame thus the head of the family, and as if the temptations which this\ntitle offered him were not sufficient, bringing him as it did, together\nwith a great name a brilliant future, his mother came, supported by the\nBishop of Evreux, his cousin, to beg him to abandon the ecclesiastical\ncareer and to marry, in order to maintain the honour of his house. Many\nothers would have succumbed, but what were temporal advantages to a man\nwho had long aspired to the glory of going to preach the Divine Word in\nfar-off missions? He remained inflexible; all that his mother could\nobtain from him was his consent to devote to her for some time his clear\njudgment and intellect in setting in order the affairs of his family. A\nfew months sufficed for success in this task. In order to place an\nimpassable abyss between himself and the world, he made a full and\ncomplete renunciation in favour of his brother Jean-Louis of his rights\nof primogeniture and all his titles to the seigniory of Montigny and\nMontbeaudry. The world is ever prone to admire a chivalrous action, and\nto look askance at deeds which appear to savour of fanaticism. To Laval\nthis renunciation of worldly wealth and honour appeared in the simple\nlight of duty. His Master's words were inspiration enough: \"Wist ye not\nthat I must be about my Father's business?\"\n\nReturning to the College de Clermont, he now thought of nothing but of\npreparing to receive worthily the holy orders. It was on September 23rd,\n1647, at Paris, that he saw dawn for him the beautiful day of the first\nmass, whose memory perfumes the whole life of the priest. We may guess\nwith what fervour he must have ascended the steps of the holy altar; if\nup to that moment he had merely loved his God, he must on that day have\ndedicated to Jesus all the powers of his being, all the tenderness of\nhis soul, and his every heart-beat.\n\nMgr. de Pericard, Bishop of Evreux, was not present at the ordination of\nhis cousin; death had taken him away, but before expiring, besides\nexpressing his regret to the new priest for having tried at the time,\nthinking to further the aims of God, to dissuade him from the\necclesiastical life, he gave him a last proof of his affection by\nappointing him archdeacon of his cathedral. The duties of the\narchdeaconry of Evreux, comprising, as it did, nearly one hundred and\nsixty parishes, were particularly heavy, yet the young priest fulfilled\nthem for seven years, and M. de la Colombiere explains to us how he\nacquitted himself of them: \"The regularity of his visits, the fervour of\nhis enthusiasm, the improvement and the good order which he established\nin the parishes, the relief of the poor, his interest in all sorts of\ncharity, none of which escaped his notice: all this showed well that\nwithout being a bishop he had the ability and merit of one, and that\nthere was no service which the Church might not expect from so great a\nsubject.\"\n\nBut our future Bishop of New France aspired to more glorious fields. One\nof those zealous apostles who were evangelizing India at this period,\nFather Alexander of Rhodes, asked from the sovereign pontiff the\nappointment for Asia of three French bishops, and submitted to the Holy\nSee the names of MM. Pallu, Picquet and Laval. There was no question of\nhesitation. All three set out immediately for Rome. They remained there\nfifteen months; the opposition of the Portuguese court caused the\nfailure of this plan, and Francois de Laval returned to France. He had\nresigned the office of archdeacon the year before, 1653, in favour of a\nman of tried virtue, who had been, nevertheless, a prey to calumny and\npersecution, the Abbe Henri-Marie Boudon; thus freed from all\nresponsibility, Laval could satisfy his desire of preparing himself by\nprayer for the designs which God might have for him.\n\nIn his desire of attaining the greatest possible perfection, he betook\nhimself to Caen, to the religious retreat of M. de Bernieres. St.\nVincent de Paul, who had trained M. Olier, was desirous also that his\npupil, before going to find a field for his apostolic zeal among the\npeople of Auvergne, should prepare himself by earnest meditation in\nretirement at St. Lazare. \"Silence and introspection seemed to St.\nVincent,\" says M. de Lanjuere, the author of the life of M. Olier, \"the\nfirst conditions of success, preceding any serious enterprise. He had\nnot learned this from Pythagoras or the Greek philosophers, who were,\nindeed, so careful to prescribe for their disciples a long period of\nmeditation before initiation into their systems, nor even from the\nexperience of all superior men, who, in order to ripen a great plan or\nto evolve a great thought, have always felt the need of isolation in the\nnobler acceptance of the word; but he had this maxim from the very\nexample of the Saviour, who, before the temptation and before the\ntransfiguration, withdrew from the world in order to contemplate, and\nwho prayed in Gethsemane before His death on the cross, and who often\nled His disciples into solitude to rest, and to listen to His most\nprecious communications.\"\n\nIn this little town of Caen, in a house called the Hermitage, lived Jean\nde Bernieres of Louvigny, together with some of his friends. They had\ngathered together for the purpose of aiding each other in mutual\nsanctification; they practised prayer, and lived in the exercise of the\nhighest piety and charity. Francois de Laval passed three years in this\nHermitage, and his wisdom was already so highly appreciated, that during\nthe period of his stay he was entrusted with two important missions,\nwhose successful issue attracted attention to him and led naturally to\nhis appointment to the bishopric of Canada.\n\nAs early as 1647 the king foresaw the coming creation of a bishopric in\nNew France, for he constituted the Upper Council \"of the Governor of\nQuebec, the Governor of Montreal and the Superior of the Jesuits, _until\nthere should be a bishop_.\" A few years later, in 1656, the Company of\nMontreal obtained from M. Olier, the pious founder of the Seminary of\nSt. Sulpice, the services of four of his priests for the colony, under\nthe direction of one of them, M. de Queylus, Abbe de Loc-Dieu, whose\nbrilliant qualities, as well as the noble use which he made of his great\nfortune, marked him out naturally as the probable choice of his\nassociates for the episcopacy. But the Jesuits, in possession of all the\nmissions of New France, had their word to say, especially since the\nmitre had been offered by the queen regent, Anne of Austria, to one of\ntheir number, Father Lejeune, who had not, however, been able to accept,\ntheir rules forbidding it. They had then proposed to the court of France\nand the court of Rome the name of Francois de Laval; but believing that\nthe colony was not ready for the erection of a see, they expressed the\nopinion that the sending of an apostolic vicar with the functions and\npowers of a bishop _in partibus_ would suffice. Moreover, if the person\nsent should not succeed, he could at any time be recalled, which could\nnot be done in the case of a bishop. Alexander VII had given his consent\nto this new plan, and Mgr. de Laval was consecrated by the nuncio of the\nPope at Paris, on Sunday, December 8th, 1658, in the church of St.\nGermain-des-Pres. After having taken, with the assent of the sovereign\npontiff, the oath of fidelity to the king, the new Bishop of Petraea said\nfarewell to his pious mother (who died in that same year) and embarked\nat La Rochelle in the month of April, 1659. The only property he\nretained was an income of a thousand francs assured to him by the\nQueen-Mother; but he was setting out to conquer treasures very different\nfrom those coveted by the Spanish adventurers who sailed to Mexico and\nPeru. He arrived on June 16th at Quebec, with letters from the king\nwhich enjoined upon all the recognition of Mgr. de Laval of Petraea as\nbeing authorized to exercise episcopal functions in the colony without\nprejudice to the rights of the Archbishop of Rouen.\n\nUnfortunately, men's minds were not very certain then as to the title\nand qualities of an apostolic vicar. They asked themselves if he were\nnot a simple delegate whose authority did not conflict with the\njurisdiction of the two grand vicars of the Jesuits and the Sulpicians.\nThe communities, at first divided on this point, submitted on the\nreceipt of new letters from the king, which commanded the recognition of\nthe sole authority of the Bishop of Petraea. The two grand vicars obeyed,\nand M. de Queylus came to Quebec, where he preached the sermon on St.\nAugustine's Day (August 28th), and satisfied the claim to authority of\nthe apostolic vicar.\n\nBut a new complication arose: the _St. Andre_, which had arrived on\nSeptember 7th, brought to the Abbe de Queylus a new appointment as grand\nvicar from the Archbishop of Rouen, which contained his protests at\ncourt against the apostolic vicar, and letters from the king which\nseemed to confirm them. Doubt as to the authenticity of the powers of\nMgr. de Laval might thus, at least, seem permissible; no act of the Abbe\nde Queylus, however, indicates that it was openly manifested, and the\nvery next month the abbe returned to France.\n\nWe may understand, however, that Mgr. de Laval, in the midst of such\ndifficulties, felt the need of early asserting his authority. He\npromulgated an order enjoining upon all the secular ecclesiastics of the\ncountry the disavowal of all foreign jurisdictions and the recognition\nof his alone, and commanded them to sign this regulation in evidence of\ntheir submission. All signed it, including the devoted priests of St.\nSulpice at Montreal.\n\nTwo years later, nevertheless, the Abbe de Queylus returned with bulls\nfrom the Congregation of the Daterie at Rome. These bulls placed him in\npossession of the parish of Montreal. In spite of the formal forbiddance\nof the Bishop of Petraea, he undertook, strong in what he judged to be\nhis rights, to betake himself to Montreal. The prelate on his side\nbelieved that it was his duty to take severe steps, and he suspended the\nAbbe de Queylus. On instructions which were given him by the king,\nGovernor d'Avaugour transmitted to the Abbe de Queylus an order to\nreturn to France. The court of Rome finally settled the question by\ngiving the entire jurisdiction of Canada to Mgr. de Laval. The affair\nthus ended, the Abbe de Queylus returned to the colony in 1668. The\npopulation of Ville-Marie received with deep joy this benefactor, to\nwhose generosity it owed so much, and on his side the worthy Bishop of\nPetraea proved that if he had believed it his duty to defend his own\nauthority when menaced, he had too noble a heart to preserve a petty\nrancour. He appointed the worthy Abbe de Queylus his grand vicar at\nMontreal.\n\nWhen for the first time Mgr. de Laval set foot on the soil of America,\nthe people, assembled to pay respect to their first pastor, were struck\nby his address, which was both affable and majestic, by his manners, as\neasy as they were distinguished, but especially by that charm which\nemanates from every one whose heart has remained ever pure. A lofty brow\nindicated an intellect above the ordinary; the clean-cut long nose was\nthe inheritance of the Montmorencys; his eye was keen and bright; his\neyebrows strongly arched; his thin lips and prominent chin showed a\ntenacious will; his hair was scanty; finally, according to the custom of\nthat period, a moustache and chin beard added to the strength and energy\nof his features. From the moment of his arrival the prelate produced the\nbest impression. \"I cannot,\" said Governor d'Argenson, \"I cannot highly\nenough esteem the zeal and piety of Mgr. of Petraea. He is a true man of\nprayer, and I make no doubt that his labours will bear goodly fruits in\nthis country.\" Boucher, governor of Three Rivers, wrote thus: \"We have a\nbishop whose zeal and virtue are beyond anything that I can say.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE SOVEREIGN COUNCIL\n\n\nThe pious bishop who is the subject of this study was not long in\nproving that his virtues were not too highly esteemed. An ancient\nvessel, the _St. Andre_, brought from France two hundred and six\npersons, among whom were Mlle. Mance, the foundress of the Montreal\nhospital, Sister Bourgeoys, and two Sulpicians, MM. Vignal and Lemaitre.\nNow this ship had long served as a sailors' hospital, and it had been\nsent back to sea without the necessary quarantine. Hardly had its\npassengers lost sight of the coasts of France when the plague broke out\namong them, and with such intensity that all were more or less attacked\nby it; Mlle. Mance, in particular, was almost immediately reduced to the\npoint of death. Always very delicate, and exhausted by a preceding\nvoyage, she did not seem destined to resist this latest attack.\nMoreover, all aid was lacking, even the rations of fresh water ran\nshort, and from a fear of contagion, which will be readily understood,\nbut which was none the less disastrous, the captain at first forbade the\nSisters of Charity who were on board to minister to the sick. This\nprecaution cost seven or eight of these unfortunate people their lives.\nAt least M. Vignal and M. Lemaitre, though both suffering themselves,\nwere able to offer to the dying the consolations of their holy office.\nM. Lemaitre, more vigorous than his colleague, and possessed of an\nadmirable energy and devotion, was not satisfied merely with encouraging\nand ministering to the unfortunate in their last moments, but even\nwatched over their remains at the risk of his own life; he buried them\npiously, wound them in their shrouds, and said over them the final\nprayers as they were lowered into the sea. Two Huguenots, touched by his\ndevotion, died in the Roman Catholic faith. The Sisters were finally\npermitted to exercise their charitable office. Although ill, they as\nwell as Sister Bourgeoys, displayed a heroic energy, and raised the\nmorale of all the unfortunate passengers.\n\nTo this sickness were added other sufferings incident to such a voyage,\nand frightful storms did not cease to attack the ship until its entry\ninto the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Several times they believed themselves on\nthe point of foundering, and the two priests gave absolution to all. The\ntempest carried these unhappy people so far from their route that they\ndid not arrive at Quebec until September 7th, exhausted by disease,\nfamine and trials of all sorts. Father Dequen, of the Society of Jesus,\nshowed in this matter an example of the most admirable charity. He\nbrought to the sick refreshments and every manner of aid, and lavished\nupon all the offices of his holy ministry. As a result of his\nself-devotion, he was attacked by the scourge and died in the exercise\nof charity. Several more, after being conveyed to the hospital,\nsuccumbed to the disease, and the whole country was infected. Mgr. of\nPetraea was admirable in his devotion; he hardly left the hospital at\nall, and constituted himself the nurse of all these unfortunates, making\ntheir beds and giving them the most attentive care. \"He is continually\nat the hospital,\" wrote Mother Mary of the Incarnation, \"in order to\nhelp the sick and to make their beds. We do what we can to prevent him\nand to shield his health, but no eloquence can dissuade him from these\nacts of self-abasement.\"\n\nIn the spring of the year 1662, Mgr. de Laval rented for his own use an\nold house situated on the site of the present parochial residence at\nQuebec, and it was there that, with the three other priests who then\ncomposed his episcopal court, he edified all the colonists by the\nsimplicity of a cenobitic life. He had been at first the guest of the\nJesuit Fathers, was later sheltered by the Sisters of the Hotel-Dieu,\nand subsequently lodged with the Ursulines. At this period it was indeed\nincumbent upon him to adapt himself to circumstances; nor did these\nmodest conditions displease the former pupil of M. de Bernieres, since,\nas Latour bears witness, \"he always complained that people did too much\nfor him; he showed a distaste for all that was too daintily prepared,\nand affected, on the contrary, a sort of avidity for coarser fare.\"\nMother Mary of the Incarnation wrote: \"He lives like a holy man and an\napostle; his life is so exemplary that he commands the admiration of the\ncountry. He gives everything away and lives like a pauper, and one may\nwell say that he has the very spirit of poverty. He practises this\npoverty in his house, in his manner of living, and in the matter of\nfurniture and servants; for he has but one gardener, whom he lends to\npoor people when they have need of him, and a valet who formerly served\nM. de Bernieres.\"\n\nBut if the reverend prelate was modest and simple in his personal\ntastes, he became inflexible when he thought it his duty to maintain the\nrights of the Church. And he watched over these rights with the more\ncircumspection since he was the first bishop installed in the colony,\nand was unwilling to allow abuses to be planted there, which later it\nwould be very difficult, not to say impossible, to uproot. Hence the\ncontinual friction between him and the governor-general, d'Argenson, on\nquestions of precedence and etiquette. Some of these disputes would seem\nto us childish to-day if even such a writer as Parkman did not put us on\nour guard against a premature judgment.[1] \"The disputes in question,\"\nwrites Parkman, \"though of a nature to provoke a smile on irreverent\nlips, were by no means so puerile as they appear. It is difficult in a\nmodern democratic society to conceive the substantial importance of the\nsigns and symbols of dignity and authority, at a time and among a people\nwhere they were adjusted with the most scrupulous precision, and\naccepted by all classes as exponents of relative degrees in the social\nand political scale. Whether the bishop or the governor should sit in\nthe higher seat at table thus became a political question, for it\ndefined to the popular understanding the position of Church and State in\ntheir relations to government.\"\n\nIn his zeal for making his episcopal authority respected, could not the\nprelate, however, have made some concessions to the temporal power? It\nis allowable to think so, when his panegyrist, the Abbe Gosselin,\nacknowledges it in these terms: \"Did he sometimes show too much ardour\nin the settlement of a question or in the assertion of his rights? It is\npossible. As the Abbe Ferland rightly observes, 'no virtue is perfect\nupon earth.' But he was too pious and too disinterested for us to\nsuspect for a moment the purity of his intentions.\" In certain passages\nin his journal Father Lalemant seems to be of the same opinion. All men\nare fallible; even the greatest saints have erred. In this connection\nthe remark of St. Bernardin of Siena presents itself naturally to the\nreligious mind: \"Each time,\" says he, \"that God grants to a creature a\nmarked and particular favour, and when divine grace summons him to a\nspecial task and to some sublime position, it is a rule of Providence\nto furnish that creature with all the means necessary to fulfil the\nmission which is entrusted to him, and to bring it to a happy\nconclusion. Providence prepares his birth, directs his education,\nproduces the environment in which he is to live; even his faults\nProvidence will use in the accomplishment of its purposes.\"\n\nDifficulties of another sort fixed between the spiritual and the\ntemporal chiefs of the colony a still deeper gulf; they arose from the\ntrade in brandy with the savages. It had been formerly forbidden by the\nSovereign Council, and this measure, urged by the clergy and the\nmissionaries, put a stop to crimes and disorders. However, for the\npurpose of gain, certain men infringed this wise prohibition, and Mgr.\nde Laval, aware of the extensive harm caused by the fatal passion of the\nIndians for intoxicating liquors, hurled excommunication against all who\nshould carry on the traffic in brandy with the savages. \"It would be\nvery difficult,\" writes M. de Latour, \"to realize to what an excess\nthese barbarians are carried by drunkenness. There is no species of\nmadness, of crime or inhumanity to which they do not descend. The\nsavage, for a glass of brandy, will give even his clothes, his cabin,\nhis wife, his children; a squaw when made drunk--and this is often done\npurposely--will abandon herself to the first comer. They will tear each\nother to pieces. If one enters a cabin whose inmates have just drunk\nbrandy, one will behold with astonishment and horror the father cutting\nthe throat of his son, the son threatening his father; the husband and\nwife, the best of friends, inflicting murderous blows upon each other,\nbiting each other, tearing out each other's eyes, noses and ears; they\nare no longer recognizable, they are madmen; there is perhaps in the\nworld no more vivid picture of hell. There are often some among them who\nseek drunkenness in order to avenge themselves upon their enemies, and\ncommit with impunity all sorts of crimes under the pretext of this fine\nexcuse, which passes with them for a complete justification, that at\nthese times they are not free and not in their senses.\" Drunken savages\nare brutes, it is true, but were not the whites who fostered this fatal\npassion of intoxication more guilty still than the wretches whom they\nignominiously urged on to vice? Let us see what the same writer says of\nthese corrupters. \"If it is difficult,\" says he, \"to explain the\nexcesses of the savage, it is also difficult to understand the extent of\nthe greed, the hypocrisy and the rascality of those who supply them with\nthese drinks. The facility for making immense profits which is afforded\nthem by the ignorance and the passions of these people, and the\ncertainty of impunity, are things which they cannot resist; the\nattraction of gain acts upon them as drunkenness does upon their\nvictims. How many crimes arise from the same source? There is no mother\nwho does not fear for her daughter, no husband who does not dread for\nhis wife, a libertine armed with a bottle of brandy; they rob and\npillage these wretches, who, stupefied by intoxication when they are not\nmaddened by it, can neither refuse nor defend themselves. There is no\nbarrier which is not forced, no weakness which is not exploited, in\nthese remote regions where, without either witnesses or masters, only\nthe voice of brutal passion is listened to, every crime of which is\ninspired by a glass of brandy. The French are worse in this respect than\nthe savages.\"\n\nGovernor d'Avaugour supported energetically the measures taken by Mgr.\nde Laval; unfortunately a regrettable incident destroyed the harmony\nbetween their two authorities. Inspired by his good heart, the superior\nof the Jesuits, Father Lalemant, interceded with the governor in favour\nof a woman imprisoned for having infringed the prohibition of the sale\nof brandy to the Indians. \"If she is not to be punished,\" brusquely\nreplied d'Avaugour, \"no one shall be punished henceforth!\" And, as he\nmade it a point of honour not to withdraw this unfortunate utterance,\nthe traders profited by it. From that time license was no longer\nbridled; the savages got drunk, the traders were enriched, and the\ncolony was in jeopardy. Sure of being supported by the governor, the\nmerchants listened to neither bishop nor missionaries. Grieved at seeing\nhis prayers as powerless as his commands, Mgr. de Laval decided to\ncarry his complaint to the foot of the throne, and he set sail for\nFrance in the autumn of 1662. \"Statesmen who place the freedom of\ncommerce above morality of action,\" says Jacques de Beaudoncourt, \"still\nconsider that the bishop was wrong, and see in this matter a fine\nopportunity to inveigh against the encroachments of the clergy; but\nwhoever has at heart the cause of human dignity will not hesitate to\ntake the side of the missionaries who sought to preserve the savages\nfrom the vices which have brought about their ruin and their\ndisappearance. The Montagnais race, which is still the most important in\nCanada, has been preserved by Catholicism from the vices and the misery\nwhich brought about so rapidly the extirpation of the savages.\"\n\nMgr. de Laval succeeded beyond his hopes; cordially received by King\nLouis XIV, he obtained the recall of Governor d'Avaugour. But this\npurpose was not the only one which he had made the goal of his ambition;\nhe had in view another, much more important for the welfare of the\ncolony. Fourteen years before, the Iroquois had exterminated the Hurons,\nand since this period the colonists had not enjoyed a single hour of\ncalm; the devotion of Dollard and of his sixteen heroic comrades had\nnarrowly saved them from a horrible danger. The worthy prelate obtained\nfrom the king a sufficiently large assignment of troops to deliver the\ncolony at last from its most dangerous enemies. \"We expect next year,\"\nhe wrote to the sovereign pontiff, \"twelve hundred soldiers, with whom,\nby God's help, we shall try to overcome the fierce Iroquois. The Marquis\nde Tracy will come to Canada in order to see for himself the measures\nwhich are necessary to make of New France a strong and prosperous\ncolony.\"\n\nM. Dubois d'Avaugour was recalled, and yet he rendered before his\ndeparture a distinguished service to the colony. \"The St. Lawrence,\" he\nwrote in a memorial to the monarch, \"is the key to a country which may\nbecome the greatest state in the world. There should be sent to this\ncolony three thousand soldiers, to be discharged after three years of\nservice; they could make Quebec an impregnable fortress, subdue the\nIroquois, build redoubtable forts on the banks of the Hudson, where the\nDutch have only a wretched wooden hut, and in short, open for New France\na road to the sea by this river.\" It was mainly this report which\ninduced the sovereign to take back Canada from the hands of the Company\nof the Cent-Associes, who were incapable of colonizing it, and to\nreintegrate it in the royal domain.\n\nMust we think with M. de la Colombiere,[2] with M. de Latour and with\nCardinal Taschereau, that the Sovereign Council was the work of Mgr. de\nLaval? We have some justification in believing it when we remember that\nthe king arrived at this important decision while the energetic Laval\nwas present at his court. However it may be, on April 24th, 1663, the\nCompany of New France abandoned the colony to the royal government,\nwhich immediately created in Canada three courts of justice and above\nthem the Sovereign Council as a court of appeal.\n\nThe Bishop of Petraea sailed in 1663 for North America with the new\ngovernor, M. de Mezy, who owed to him his appointment. His other\nfellow-passengers were M. Gaudais-Dupont, who came to take possession of\nthe country in the name of the king, two priests, MM. Maizerets and\nHugues Pommier, Father Rafeix, of the Society of Jesus, and three\necclesiastics. The passage was stormy and lasted four months. To-day,\nwhen we leave Havre and disembark a week later at New York, after having\nenjoyed all the refinements of luxury and comfort invented by an\nadvanced but materialistic civilization, we can with difficulty imagine\nthe discomforts, hardships and privations of four long months on a\nstormy sea. Scurvy, that fatal consequence of famine and exhaustion,\nsoon broke out among the passengers, and many died of it. The bishop,\nhimself stricken by the disease, did not cease, nevertheless, to lavish\nhis care upon the unfortunates who were attacked by the infection; he\neven attended them at the hospital after they had landed.\n\nThe country was still at this time under the stress of the emotion\ncaused by the terrible earthquake of 1663. Father Lalemant has left us a\nstriking description of this cataclysm, marked by the naive exaggeration\nof the period: \"It was February 5th, 1663, about half-past five in the\nevening, when a great roar was heard at the same time throughout the\nextent of Canada. This noise, which gave the impression that fire had\nbroken out in all the houses, made every one rush out of doors in order\nto flee from such a sudden conflagration. But instead of seeing smoke\nand flame, the people were much surprised to behold walls tottering, and\nall the stones moving as if they had become detached; the roofs seemed\nto bend downward on one side, then to lean over on the other; the bells\nrang of their own accord; joists, rafters and boards cracked, the earth\nquivered and made the stakes of the palisades dance in a manner which\nwould appear incredible if we had not seen it in various places.\n\n\"Then every one rushes outside, animals take to flight, children cry\nthrough the streets, men and women, seized with terror, know not where\nto take refuge, thinking at every moment that they must be either\noverwhelmed in the ruins of the houses or buried in some abyss about to\nopen under their feet; some, falling to their knees in the snow, cry for\nmercy; others pass the rest of the night in prayer, because the\nearthquake still continues with a certain undulation, almost like that\nof ships at sea, and such that some feel from these shocks the same\nsickness that they endure upon the water.\n\n\"The disorder was much greater in the forest. It seemed that there was a\nbattle between the trees, which were hurled together, and not only their\nbranches but even their trunks seemed to leave their places to leap upon\neach other with a noise and a confusion which made our savages say that\nthe whole forest was drunk.\n\n\"There seemed to be the same combat between the mountains, of which some\nwere uprooted and hurled upon the others, leaving great chasms in the\nplaces whence they came, and now burying the trees, with which they were\ncovered, deep in the earth up to their tops, now thrusting them in, with\nbranches downward, taking the place of the roots, so that they left only\na forest of upturned trunks.\n\n\"While this general destruction was going on on land, sheets of ice five\nor six feet thick were broken and shattered to pieces, and split in many\nplaces, whence arose thick vapour or streams of mud and sand which\nascended high into the air; our springs either flowed no longer or ran\nwith sulphurous waters; the rivers were either lost from sight or became\npolluted, the waters of some becoming yellow, those of others red, and\nthe great St. Lawrence appeared quite livid up to the vicinity of\nTadousac, a most astonishing prodigy, and one capable of surprising\nthose who know the extent of this great river below the Island of\nOrleans, and what matter must be necessary to whiten it.\n\n\"We behold new lakes where there never were any; certain mountains\nengulfed are no longer seen; several rapids have been smoothed out; not\na few rivers no longer appear; the earth is cleft in many places, and\nhas opened abysses which seem to have no bottom. In short, there has\nbeen produced such a confusion of woods upturned and buried, that we see\nnow stretches of country of more than a thousand acres wholly denuded,\nand as if they were freshly ploughed, where a little before there had\nbeen but forests.\n\n\"Moreover, three circumstances made this earthquake most remarkable. The\nfirst is the time of its duration, since it lasted into the month of\nAugust, that is to say, more than six months. It is true that the shocks\nwere not always so rude; in certain places, for example, towards the\nmountains at the back of us, the noise and the commotion were long\ncontinued; at others, as in the direction of Tadousac, there was a\nquaking as a rule two or three times a day, accompanied by a great\nstraining, and we noticed that in the higher places the disturbance was\nless than in the flat districts.\n\n\"The second circumstance concerns the extent of this earthquake, which\nwe believe to have been universal throughout New France; for we learn\nthat it was felt from Ile Perce and Gaspe, which are at the mouth of our\nriver, to beyond Montreal, as likewise in New England, in Acadia and\nother very remote places; so that, knowing that the earthquake occurred\nthroughout an extent of two hundred leagues in length by one hundred in\nbreadth, we have twenty thousand square leagues of land which felt the\nearthquake on the same day and at the same moment.\n\n\"The third circumstance concerns God's particular protection of our\nhomes, for we see near us great abysses and a prodigious extent of\ncountry wholly ruined, without our having lost a child or even a hair of\nour heads. We see ourselves surrounded by confusion and ruins, and yet\nwe have had only a few chimneys demolished, while the mountains around\nus have been overturned.\"\n\nFrom the point of view of conversions and returns to God the results\nwere marvellous. \"One can scarcely believe,\" says Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation, \"the great number of conversions that God has brought\nabout, both among infidels who have embraced the faith, and on the part\nof Christians who have abandoned their evil life. At the same time as\nGod has shaken the mountains and the marble rocks of these regions, it\nwould seem that He has taken pleasure in shaking consciences. Days of\ncarnival have been changed into days of penitence and sadness; public\nprayers, processions and pilgrimages have been continual; fasts on bread\nand water very frequent; the general confessions more sincere than they\nwould have been in the extremity of sickness. A single ecclesiastic,\nwho directs the parish of Chateau-Richer, has assured us that he has\nprocured more than eight hundred general confessions, and I leave you to\nthink what the reverend Fathers must have accomplished who were day and\nnight in the confessional. I do not think that in the whole country\nthere is a single inhabitant who has not made a general confession.\nThere have been inveterate sinners, who, to set their consciences at\nrest, have repeated their confession more than three times. We have seen\nadmirable reconciliations, enemies falling on their knees before each\nother to ask each other's forgiveness, in so much sorrow that it was\neasy to see that these changes were the results of grace and of the\nmercy of God rather than of His justice.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] _The Old Regime in Canada_, p. 110.\n\n[2] Joseph Sere de la Colombiere, vicar-general and archdeacon of\nQuebec, pronounced Mgr. de Laval's funeral oration.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nESTABLISHMENT OF THE SEMINARY\n\n\nNo sooner had he returned, than the Bishop of Petraea devoted all the\nstrength of his intellect to the execution of a plan which he had long\nmeditated, namely, the foundation of a seminary. In order to explain\nwhat he understood by this word we cannot do better than to quote his\nown ordinance relating to this matter: \"There shall be educated and\ntrained such young clerics as may appear fit for the service of God, and\nthey shall be taught for this purpose the proper manner of administering\nthe sacraments, the methods of apostolic catechism and preaching, moral\ntheology, the ceremonies of the Church, the Gregorian chant, and other\nthings belonging to the duties of a good ecclesiastic; and besides, in\norder that there may be formed in the said seminary and among its clergy\na chapter composed of ecclesiastics belonging thereto and chosen from\namong us and the bishops of the said country, our successors, when the\nking shall have seen fit to found the seminary, or from those whom the\nsaid seminary may be able of itself to furnish to this institution\nthrough the blessing of God. We desire it to be a perpetual school of\nvirtue, and a place of training whence we may derive pious and capable\nrecruits, in order to send them on all occasions, and whenever there may\nbe need, into the parishes and other places in the said country, in\norder to exercise therein priestly and other duties to which they may\nhave been destined, and to withdraw them from the same parishes and\nduties when it may be judged fitting, reserving to ourselves always, and\nto the bishops, our successors in the said country, as well as to the\nsaid seminary, by our orders and those of the said lords bishops, the\npower of recalling all the ecclesiastics who may have gone forth as\ndelegates into the parishes and other places, whenever it may be deemed\nnecessary, without their having title or right of particular attachment\nto a parish, it being our desire, on the contrary, that they should be\nrightfully removable, and subject to dismissal and displacement at the\nwill of the bishops and of the said seminary, by the orders of the same,\nin accordance with the sacred practice of the early ages of the Church,\nwhich is followed and preserved still at the present day in many\ndioceses of this kingdom.\"\n\nAlthough this foregoing period is somewhat lengthy and a little obscure,\nso weighty with meaning is it, we have been anxious to quote it, first,\nbecause it is an official document, and because it came from the very\npen of him whose life we are studying; and, secondly, because it shows\nthat at this period serious reading, such as Cicero, Quintilian, and the\nFathers of the Church, formed the mental pabulum of the people. In our\ndays the beauty of a sentence is less sought after than its clearness\nand conciseness.\n\nIt may be well to add here the Abbe Gosselin's explanation of this\n_mandement_: \"Three principal works are due to this document as the\nglorious inheritance of the seminary of Quebec. In the first place we\nhave the natural work of any seminary, the training of ecclesiastics and\nthe preparation of the clergy for priestly virtues. In the next place we\nhave the creation of the chapter, which the Bishop of Petraea always\nconsidered important in a well organized diocese; it was his desire to\nfind the elements of this chapter in his seminary, when the king should\nhave provided for its endowment, or when the seminary itself could bear\nthe expense. Finally, there is that which in the mind of Mgr. de Laval\nwas the supreme work of the seminary, its vital task: the seminary was\nto be not only a perpetual school of virtue, but also a place of supply\non which he might draw for the persons needed in the administration of\nhis diocese, and to which he might send them back when he should think\nbest. All livings are connected with the seminary, but they are all\ntransferable. The prelate here puts clearly and categorically the\nquestion of the transfer of livings. In his measures there is neither\nhesitation nor circumlocution. He does not seek to deceive the sovereign\nto whom he is about to submit his regulation. For him, in the present\ncondition of New France, there can be no question of fixed livings; the\npriests must be by right removable, and subject to recall at the will of\nthe bishop; and, as is fitting in a prelate worthy of the primitive\nChurch, he always lays stress in his commands on the _holy practice of\nthe early centuries_. The question was clearly put. It was as clearly\nunderstood by the sovereign, who approved some days later of the\nregulation of Mgr. de Laval.\"\n\nIt was in the month of April, 1663, that the worthy prelate had obtained\nthe royal approval of the establishment of his seminary; it was on\nOctober 10th of the same year that he had it registered by the Sovereign\nCouncil.\n\nA great difficulty arose: the missionaries, besides the help that they\nhad obtained from the Company of the Cent-Associes, derived their\nresources from Europe; but how was the new secular clergy to be\nsupported, totally lacking as it was in endowment and revenue? Mgr. de\nLaval resolved to employ the means adopted long ago by Charlemagne to\nassure the maintenance of the Frankish clergy: that of tithes or dues\npaid by the husbandman from his harvest. Accordingly he obtained from\nthe king an ordinance according to which tithes, fixed at the amount of\nthe thirteenth part of the harvests, should be collected from the\ncolonists by the seminary; the latter was to use them for the\nmaintenance of the priests, and for divine service in the established\nparishes. The burden was, perhaps, somewhat heavy. Mgr. de Laval, who,\ninspired by the spirit of poverty, had renounced his patrimony and lived\nsolely upon a pension of a thousand francs which the queen paid him from\nher private exchequer, felt that he had a certain right to impose his\ndisinterestedness upon others, but the colonists, sure of the support of\nthe governor, M. de Mezy, complained.\n\nThe good understanding between the governor-general and the bishop had\nbeen maintained up to the end of January, 1664. Full of respect for the\ncharacter and the virtue of his friend, M. de Mezy had energetically\nsupported the ordinances of the Sovereign Council against the brandy\ntraffic; he had likewise favoured the registration of the law of tithes,\nbut the opposition which he met in the matter of an increase in his\nsalary impelled him to arbitrary action. Of his own authority he\ndisplaced three councillors, and out of petty rancour allowed strong\nliquors to be sold to the savages. The open struggle between the bishop\nand himself produced the most unfavourable impression in the colony. The\nking decided that the matter must be brought to a head. M. de Courcelles\nwas appointed governor, and, jointly with a viceroy, the Marquis de\nTracy, and with the Intendant Talon, was entrusted with the\ninvestigation of the administration of M. de Mezy. They arrived a few\nmonths after the death of de Mezy, whom this untimely end saved perhaps\nfrom a well-deserved condemnation. He had become reconciled in his\ndying hour to his old and venerable friend, and the judges confined\nthemselves to the erasure of the documents which recalled his\nadministration.\n\nThe worthy Bishop of Petraea had not lost for a moment the confidence of\nthe sovereign, as is proved by many letters which he received from the\nking and his prime minister, Colbert. \"I send you by command of His\nMajesty,\" writes Colbert, \"the sum of six thousand francs, to be\ndisposed of as you may deem best to supply your needs and those of your\nChurch. We cannot ascribe too great a value to a virtue like yours,\nwhich is ever equally maintained, which charitably extends its help\nwherever it is necessary, which makes you indefatigable in the functions\nof your episcopacy, notwithstanding the feebleness of your health and\nthe frequent indispositions by which you are attacked, and which thus\nmakes you share with the least of your ecclesiastics the task of\nadministering the sacraments in places most remote from the principal\nsettlements. I shall add nothing to this statement, which is entirely\nsincere, for fear of wounding your natural modesty, etc....\" The prince\nhimself is no less flattering: \"My Lord Bishop of Petraea,\" writes Louis\nthe Great, \"I expected no less of your zeal for the exaltation of the\nfaith, and of your affection for the furtherance of my service than the\nconduct observed by you in your important and holy mission. Its main\nreward is reserved by Heaven, which alone can recompense you in\nproportion to your merit, but you may rest assured that such rewards as\ndepend on me will not be wanting at the fitting time. I subscribe,\nmoreover, to my Lord Colbert's communications to you in my name.\"\n\nPeace and harmony were re-established, and with them the hope of seeing\nfinally disappear the constant menace of Iroquois forays. The\nmagnificent regiment of Carignan, composed of six hundred men, reassured\nthe colonists while it daunted their savage enemies. Thus three of the\nFive Nations hastened to sue for peace, and they obtained it. In order\nto protect the frontiers of the colony, M. de Tracy caused three forts\nto be erected on the Richelieu River, one at Sorel, another at Chambly,\na third still more remote, that of Ste. Therese; then at the head of six\nhundred soldiers, six hundred militia and a hundred Indians, he marched\ntowards the hamlets of the Mohawks. The result of this expedition was,\nunhappily, as fruitless as that of the later campaigns undertaken\nagainst the Indians by MM. de Denonville and de Frontenac. After a\ndifficult march they come into touch with the savages; but these all\nflee into the woods, and they find only their huts stocked with immense\nsupplies of corn for the winter, and a great number of pigs. At least,\nif they cannot reach the barbarians themselves, they can inflict upon\nthem a terrible punishment; they set fire to the cabins and the corn,\nthe pigs are slaughtered, and thus a large number of their wild enemies\ndie of hunger during the winter. The viceroy was wise enough to accept\nthe surrender of many Indians, and the peace which he concluded afforded\nthe colony eighteen years of tranquillity.\n\nThe question of the apportionment of the tithes was settled in the\nfollowing year, 1667. The viceroy, acting with MM. de Courcelles and\nTalon, decided that the tithe should be reduced to a twenty-sixth, by\nreason of the poverty of the inhabitants, and that newly-cleared lands\nshould pay nothing for the first five years. Mgr. de Laval, ever ready\nto accept just and sensible measures, agreed to this decision. The\nrevenues thus obtained were, none the less, insufficient, since the king\nsubsequently gave eight or nine thousand francs to complete the\nendowment of the priests, whose annual salary was fixed at five hundred\nand seventy-four francs. In 1707 the sum granted by the French court was\nreduced to four thousand francs. If we remember that the French farmers\ncontributed the thirteenth part of their harvest, that is to say, double\nthe quantity of the Canadian tithe, for the support of their pastors,\nshall we deem excessive this modest tax raised from the colonists for\nmen who devoted to them their time, their health, even their hours of\nrest, in order to procure for their parishioners the aid of religion? Is\nit not regrettable that too many among the colonists, who were yet such\ngood Christians in the observance of religious practices, should have\nopposed an obstinate resistance to so righteous a demand? Can it be\nthat, by a special dispensation of Heaven, the priests and vicars of\nCanada are not liable to the same material needs as ordinary mortals,\nand are they not obliged to pay in good current coin for their food,\ntheir medicines and their clothes?\n\nThe first seminary, built of stone,[3] rose in 1661 on the site of the\npresent vicarage of the cathedral of Quebec; it cost eight thousand five\nhundred francs, two thousand of which were given by Mgr. de Laval. The\nfirst priest of Quebec and first superior of the seminary, M. Henri de\nBernieres, was able to occupy it in the autumn of the following year,\nand the Bishop of Petraea abode there from the time of his return from\nFrance on September 15th, 1663, until the burning of this house on\nNovember 15th, 1701. The first directors of the seminary were, besides\nM. de Bernieres, MM. de Lauson-Charny, son of the former\ngovernor-general, Jean Dudouyt, Thomas Morel, Ange de Maizerets and\nHugues Pommier. Except the first, who was a Burgundian, they were all\nborn in the two provinces of Brittany and Normandy, the cradles of the\nmajority of our ancestors.\n\nThe founder of the seminary had wished the livings to be transferable;\nlater the government decided to the contrary, and the edict of 1679\ndecreed that the tithes should be payable only to the permanent\npriests; nevertheless the majority of them remained of their own free\nwill attached to the seminary. They had learned there to practise a\ncomplete abnegation, and to give to the faithful the example of a united\nand fervent clerical family. \"Our goods were held in common with those\nof the bishop,\" wrote M. de Maizerets, \"I have never seen any\ndistinction made among us between poor and rich, or the birth and rank\nof any one questioned, since we all consider each other as brothers.\"\n\nThe pious bishop himself set an example of disinterestedness; all that\nhe had, namely an income of two thousand five hundred francs, which the\nJesuits paid him as the tithes of the grain harvested upon their\nproperty, and a revenue of a thousand francs which he had from his\nfriends in France, went into the seminary. MM. de Bernieres, de\nMaizerets and Dudouyt vied in the imitation of their model, and they\nlikewise abandoned to the holy house their goods and their pensions. The\nprelate confined himself, like the others, from humility even more than\nfrom economy on behalf of the community, to the greatest simplicity in\ndress as well as in his environment. Aiming at the highest degree of\npossible perfection, he was satisfied with the coarsest fare, and\nincessantly added voluntary privations to the sacrifices demanded of him\nby his difficult duties. Does not this apostolic poverty recall the\nseminary established by the pious founder of St. Sulpice, who wrote:\n\"Each had at dinner a bowl of soup and a small portion of butcher's\nmeat, without dessert, and in the evening likewise a little roast\nmutton\"?\n\nMortification diminished in no wise the activity of the prelate;\nlearning that the Seminary of Foreign Missions at Paris, that nursery of\napostles, had just been definitely established (1663), he considered it\nhis duty to establish his own more firmly by affiliating it with that of\nthe French capital. \"I have learned with joy,\" wrote he, \"of the\nestablishment of your Seminary of Foreign Missions, and that the gales\nand tempests by which it has been tossed since the beginning have but\nserved to render it firmer and more unassailable. I cannot sufficiently\npraise your zeal, which, unable to confine itself to the limits and\nfrontiers of France, seeks to spread throughout the world, and to pass\nbeyond the seas into the most remote regions; considering which, I have\nthought I could not compass a greater good for our young Church, nor one\nmore to the glory of God and the welfare of the peoples whom God has\nentrusted to our guidance, than by contributing to the establishment of\none of your branches in Quebec, the place of our residence, where you\nwill be like the light set upon the candlestick, to illumine all these\nregions by your holy doctrine and the example of your virtue. Since you\nare the torch of foreign countries, it is only reasonable that there\nshould be no quarter of the globe uninfluenced by your charity and\nzeal. I hope that our Church will be one of the first to possess this\ngood fortune, the more since it has already a part of what you hold most\ndear. Come then, and be welcome; we shall receive you with joy. You will\nfind a lodging prepared and a fund sufficient to set up a small\nestablishment, which I hope will continue to grow....\" The act of union\nwas signed in 1665, and was renewed ten years later with the royal\nassent.\n\nThanks to the generosity of Mgr. de Laval and of the first directors of\nthe seminary, building and acquisition of land was begun. There was\nerected in 1668 a large wooden dwelling, which was in some sort an\nextension of the episcopal and parochial residence. It was destroyed in\n1701, with the vicarage, in the conflagration which overwhelmed the\nwhole seminary. Subsequently, there was purchased a site of sixteen\nacres adjoining the parochial church, upon which was erected the house\nof Madame Couillard. This house, in which lodged in 1668 the first\npupils of the smaller seminary, was replaced in 1678 by a stone edifice,\nlarge enough to shelter all the pupils of both the seminaries. The\nseigniory of Beaupre was also acquired, which with remarkable foresight\nthe bishop exchanged for the Ile Jesus. \"It was prudent,\" remarks the\nAbbe Gosselin, \"not to have all the property in the same place; when the\nseasons are bad in one part of the country they may be prosperous\nelsewhere; and having thus sources of revenue in different places, one\nis more likely never to find them entirely lacking.\"\n\nThe smaller seminary dates only from the year 1668. Up to this time the\nlarge seminary alone existed; of the five ecclesiastics who were its\ninmates in 1663, Louis Joliet abandoned the priestly career. It was he\nwho, impelled by his adventurous instincts, sought out, together with\nFather Marquette, the mouth of the Mississippi.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] The house was first the presbytery.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nMGR. DE LAVAL AND THE SAVAGES\n\n\nNow, what were the results accomplished by the efforts of the\nmissionaries at this period of our history? When in their latest hour\nthey saw about them, as was very frequently the case, only the wild\nchildren of the desert uttering cries of ferocious joy, had they at\nleast the consolation of discerning faithful disciples of Christ\nconcealed among their executioners? Alas! we must admit that North\nAmerica saw no renewal of the days when St. Peter converted on one\noccasion, at his first preaching, three thousand persons, and when St.\nPaul brought to Jesus by His word thousands of Gentiles. Were the\nmissionaries of the New World, then, less zealous, less disinterested,\nless eloquent than the apostles of the early days of the Church? Let us\nlisten to Mgr. Bourgard: \"A few only among them, like the Brazilian\napostle, Father Anthony Vieyra, died a natural death and found a grave\nin earth consecrated by the Church. Many, like Father Marquette, who\nreconnoitred the whole course of the Mississippi, succumbed to the\nburden of fatigue in the midst of the desert, and were buried under the\nturf by their sorrowful comrades. He had with him several Frenchmen,\nFathers Badin, Deseille and Petit; the two latter left their venerable\nremains among the wastes. Others met death at the bedside of the\nplague-stricken, and were martyrs to their charity, like Fathers Turgis\nand Dablon. An incalculable number died in the desert, alone, deprived\nof all aid, unknown to the whole world, and their bodies became the\nsustenance of birds of prey. Several obtained the glorious crown of\nmartyrdom; such are the venerable Fathers Jogues, Corpo, Souel,\nChabanel, Ribourde, Brebeuf, Lalemant, etc. Now they fell under the\nblows of raging Indians; now they were traitorously assassinated; again,\nthey were impaled.\" In what, then, must we seek for the cause of the\nfutility of these efforts? All those who know the savages will\nunderstand it; it is in the fickle character of these children of the\nwoods, a character more unstable and volatile than that of infants. God\nalone knows what restless anxiety the conversions which they succeeded\nin bringing about caused to the missionaries and the pious Bishop of\nPetraea. Yet every day Mgr. de Laval ardently prayed, not only for the\nflock confided to his care but also for the souls which he had come from\nso far to seek to save from heathenism. If one of these devout men of\nGod had succeeded at the price of a thousand dangers, of a thousand\nattempts, in proving to an Indian the insanity, the folly of his belief\nin the juggleries of a sorcerer, he must watch with jealous care lest\nhis convert should lapse from grace either through the sarcasms of the\nother redskins, or through the attractions of some cannibal festival, or\nby the temptation to satisfy an ancient grudge, or through the fear of\nlosing a coveted influence, or even through the apprehension of the\nvengeance of the heathen. Did he think himself justified in expecting to\nsee his efforts crowned with success? Suddenly he would learn that the\npoor neophyte had been led astray by the sight of a bottle of brandy,\nand that he had to begin again from the beginning.\n\nNo greater success was attained in many efforts which were exerted to\ngive a European stamp to the character of the aborigines, than in divers\nattempts to train in civilized habits young Indians brought up in the\nseminaries. And we know that if success in this direction had been\npossible it would certainly have been obtained by educators like the\nJesuit Fathers. \"With the French admitted to the small seminary,\" says\nthe Abbe Ferland, \"six young Indians were received; on the advice of the\nking they were all to be brought up together. This union, which was\nthought likely to prove useful to all, was not helpful to the savages,\nand became harmful to the young Frenchmen. After a few trials it was\nunderstood that it was impossible to adapt to the regular habits\nnecessary for success in a course of study these young scholars who had\nbeen reared in complete freedom. Comradeship with Algonquin and Huron\nchildren, who were incapable of limiting themselves to the observance\nof a college rule, tended to give more force and persistence to the\nindependent ideas which were natural in the young French-Canadians, who\nreceived from their fathers the love of liberty and the taste for an\nadventurous life.\"\n\nBut we must not infer, therefore, that the missionaries found no\nconsolation in their troublous task. If sometimes the savage blood\nrevealed itself in the neophytes in sudden insurrections, we must admit\nthat the majority of the converts devoted themselves to the practice of\nvirtues with an energy which often rose to heroism, and that already\nthere began to appear among them that holy fraternity which the gospel\neverywhere brings to birth. The memoirs of the Jesuits furnish numerous\nevidences of this. We shall cite only the following: \"A band of Hurons\nhad come down to the Mission of St. Joseph. The Christians, suffering a\ngreat dearth of provisions, asked each other, 'Can we feed all those\npeople?' As they said this, behold, a number of the Indians,\ndisembarking from their little boats, go straight to the chapel, fall\nupon their knees and say their prayers. An Algonquin who had gone to\nsalute the Holy Sacrament, having perceived them, came to apprise his\ncaptain that these Hurons were praying to God. 'Is it true?' said he.\n'Come! come! we must no longer debate whether we shall give them food or\nnot; they are our brothers, since they believe as well as we.'\"\n\nThe conversion which caused the most joy to Mgr. de Laval was that of\nGarakontie, the noted chief of the Iroquois confederation. Accordingly\nhe wished to baptize him himself in the cathedral of Quebec, and the\ngovernor, M. de Courcelles, consented to serve as godfather to the new\nfollower of Christ. Up to this time the missions to the Five Nations had\nbeen ephemeral; by the first one Father Jogues had only been able to\nfertilize with his blood this barbarous soil; the second, established at\nGannentaha, escaped the general massacre in 1658 only by a genuine\nmiracle. This mission was commanded by Captain Dupuis, and comprised\nfifty-five Frenchmen. Five Jesuit Fathers were of the number, among them\nFathers Chaumonot and Dablon. Everything up to that time had gone\nwonderfully well in the new establishment; the missionaries knew the\nIroquois language so well, and so well applied the rules of savage\neloquence, that they impressed all the surrounding tribes; accordingly\nthey were full of trust and dreamed of a rapid extension of the Catholic\nfaith in these territories. An Iroquois chief dispelled their illusion\nby revealing to them the plans of their enemies; they were already\nwatched, and preparations were on foot to cut off their retreat. In this\nperil the colonists took counsel, and hastily constructed in the\ngranaries of their quarters a few boats, some canoes and a large barge,\ndestined to transport the provisions and the fugitives. They had to\nhasten, because the attack against their establishment might take place\nat any moment, and they must profit by the breaking up of the ice, which\nwas impending. But how could they transport this little flotilla to the\nriver which flowed into Lake Ontario twenty miles away without giving\nthe alarm and being massacred at the first step? They adopted a singular\nstratagem derived from the customs of these people, and one in which the\nfugitives succeeded perfectly. \"A young Frenchman adopted by an Indian,\"\nrelates Jacques de Beaudoncourt, \"pretended to have a dream by which he\nwas warned to make a festival, 'to eat everything,' if he did not wish\nto die presently. 'You are my son,' replied the Iroquois chief, 'I do\nnot want you to die; prepare the feast and we shall eat everything.' No\none was absent; some of the French who were invited made music to charm\nthe guests. They ate so much, according to the rules of Indian civility,\nthat they said to their host, 'Take pity on us, and let us go and rest.'\n'You want me to die, then?' 'Oh, no!' And they betook themselves to\neating again as best they could. During this time the other Frenchmen\nwere carrying to the river the boats and provisions. When all was ready\nthe young man said: 'I take pity on you, stop eating, I shall not die. I\nam going to have music played to lull you to sleep.' And sleep was not\nlong in coming, and the French, slipping hastily away from the banquet\nhall, rejoined their comrades. They had left the dogs and the fowls\nbehind, in order the better to deceive the savages; a heavy snow,\nfalling at the moment of their departure, had concealed all traces of\ntheir passage, and the banqueters imagined that a powerful Manitou had\ncarried away the fugitives, who would not fail to come back and avenge\nthemselves. After thirteen days of toilsome navigation, the French\narrived in Montreal, having lost only three men from drowning during the\npassage. It had been thought that they were all massacred, for the plans\nof the Iroquois had become known in the colony; this escape brought the\ngreatest honour to Captain Dupuis, who had successfully carried it out.\"\n\nM. d'Argenson, then governor, did not approve of the retreat of the\ncaptain; this advanced bulwark protected the whole colony, and he\nthought that the French should have held out to the last man. This\nselfish opinion was disavowed by the great majority; the real courage of\na leader does not consist in having all his comrades massacred to no\npurpose, but in saving by his calm intrepidity the largest possible\nnumber of soldiers for his country.\n\nThe Iroquois were tricked but not disarmed. Beside themselves with rage\nat the thought that so many victims about to be sacrificed to their\nhatred had escaped their blows, and desiring to end once for all the\nfeud with their enemies, the Onondagas, they persuaded the other nations\nto join them in a rush upon Quebec. They succeeded easily, and twelve\nhundred savage warriors assembled at Cleft Rock, on the outskirts of\nMontreal, and exposed the colony to the most terrible danger which it\nhad yet experienced.\n\nThis was indeed a great peril; the dwellings above Quebec were without\ndefence, and separated so far from each other that they stretched out\nnearly two leagues. But providentially the plan of these terrible foes\nwas made known to the inhabitants of the town through an Iroquois\nprisoner. Immediately the most feverish activity was exerted in\npreparations for defence; the country houses and those of the Lower Town\nwere abandoned, and the inhabitants took refuge in the palace, in the\nfort, with the Ursulines, or with the Jesuits; redoubts were raised,\nloop-holes bored and patrols established. At Ville-Marie no fewer\nprecautions were taken; the governor surrounded a mill which he had\nerected in 1658, by a palisade, a ditch, and four bastions well\nentrenched. It stood on a height of the St. Louis Hill, and, called at\nfirst the Mill on the Hill, it became later the citadel of Montreal.\nAnxiety still prevailed everywhere, but God, who knows how to raise up,\nin the very moment of despair, the instruments which He uses in His\ninfinite wisdom to protect the countries dear to His heart, that same\nGod who gave to France the heroic Joan of Arc, produced for Canada an\nunexpected defender. Dollard and sixteen brave Montrealers were to offer\nthemselves as victims to save the colony. Their devotion, which\nsurpasses all that history shows of splendid daring, proves the\nexaltation of the souls of those early colonists.\n\nOne morning in the month of July, 1660, Dollard, accompanied by sixteen\nvaliant comrades, presented himself at the altar of the church in\nMontreal; these Christian heroes came to ask the God of the strong to\nbless the resolve which they had taken to go and sacrifice themselves\nfor their brothers. Immediately after mass, tearing themselves from the\nembraces of their relatives, they set out, and after a long and toilsome\nmarch arrived at the foot of the Long Rapid, on the left bank of the\nOttawa; the exact point where they stopped is probably Greece's Point,\nfive or six miles above Carillon, for they knew that the Iroquois\nreturning from the hunt must pass this place. They installed themselves\nwithin a wretched palisade, where they were joined almost at once by two\nIndian chiefs who, having challenged each other's courage, sought an\noccasion to surpass one another in valour. They were Anahotaha, at the\nhead of forty Hurons, and Metiomegue, accompanied by four Algonquins.\nThey had not long to wait; two canoes bore the Iroquois crews within\nmusket shot; those who escaped the terrible volley which received them\nand killed the majority of them, hastened to warn the band of three\nhundred other Iroquois from whom they had become detached. The Indians,\nrelying on an easy victory, hastened up, but they hurled themselves in\nvain upon the French, who, sheltered by their weak palisade, crowned\nits stakes with the heads of their enemies as these were beaten down.\nExasperated by this unexpected check, the Iroquois broke up the canoes\nof their adversaries, and, with the help of these fragments, which they\nset on fire, attempted to burn the little fortress; but a well sustained\nfire prevented the rashest from approaching. Their pride yielding to\ntheir thirst for vengeance, these three hundred men found themselves too\nfew before such intrepid enemies, and they sent for aid to a band of\nfive hundred of their people, who were camped on the Richelieu Islands.\nThese hastened to the attack, and eight hundred men rushed upon a band\nof heroes strengthened by the sentiment of duty, the love of country and\nfaith in a happy future. Futile efforts! The bullets made terrible havoc\nin their ranks, and they recoiled again, carrying with them only the\nassurance that their numbers had not paralyzed the courage of the\nFrench.\n\nBut the aspect of things was about to change, owing to the cowardice of\nthe Hurons. Water failed the besieged tortured by thirst; they made\nsorties from time to time to procure some, and could bring back in their\nsmall and insufficient vessels only a few drops, obtained at the\ngreatest peril. The Iroquois, aware of this fact, profited by it in\norder to offer life and pardon to the Indians who would go over to their\nside. No more was necessary to persuade the Hurons, and suddenly thirty\nof them followed La Mouche, the nephew of the Huron chief, and leaped\nover the palisades. The brave Anahotaha fired a pistol shot at his\nnephew, but missed him. The Algonquins remained faithful, and died\nbravely at their post. The Iroquois learned through these deserters the\nreal number of those who were resisting them so boldly; they then took\nan oath to die to the last man rather than renounce victory, rather than\ncast thus an everlasting opprobrium on their nation. The bravest made a\nsort of shield with fagots tied together, and, placing themselves in\nfront of their comrades, hurled themselves upon the palisades,\nattempting to tear them up. The supreme moment of the struggle has come;\nDollard is aware of it. While his brothers in arms make frightful gaps\nin the ranks of the savages by well-directed shots, he loads with grape\nshot a musket which is to explode as it falls, and hurls it with all his\nmight. Unhappily, the branch of a tree stays the passage of the terrible\nengine of destruction, which falls back upon the French and makes a\nbloody gap among them. \"Surrender!\" cries La Mouche to Anahotaha. \"I\nhave given my word to the French, I shall die with them,\" replies the\nbold chief. Already some stakes were torn up, and the Iroquois were\nabout to rush like an avalanche through this breach, when a new Horatius\nCocles, as brave as the Roman, made his body a shield for his brothers,\nand soon the axe which he held in his hand dripped with blood. He fell,\nand was at once replaced. The French succumbed one by one; they were\nseen brandishing their weapons up to the moment of their last breath,\nand, riddled with wounds, they resisted to the last sigh. Drunk with\nvengeance, the wild conquerors turned over the bodies to find some still\npalpitating, that they might bind them to a stake of torture; three were\nin their mortal agony, but they died before being cast on the pyre. A\nsingle one was saved for the stake; he heroically resisted the\nrefinements of the most barbarous cruelty; he showed no weakness, and\ndid not cease to pray for his executioners. Everything in this glorious\ndeed of arms must compel the admiration of the most remote posterity.\n\nThe wretched Hurons suffered the fate which they had deserved; they were\nburned in the different villages. Five escaped, and it was by their\nreports that men learned the details of an exploit which saved the\ncolony. The Iroquois, in fact, considering what a handful of brave men\nhad accomplished, took it for granted that a frontal attack on such men\ncould only result in failure; they changed their tactics, and had\nrecourse anew to their warfare of surprises and ambuscades, with the\npurpose of gradually destroying the little colony.\n\nThe dangers which might be risked by attacking so fierce a nation were,\nas may be seen, by no means imaginary. Many would have retreated, and\nawaited a favourable occasion to try and plant for the third time the\ncross in the Iroquois village. The sons of Loyola did not hesitate;\nencouraged by Mgr. de Laval, they retraced their steps to the Five\nNations. This time Heaven condescended to reward in a large measure\ntheir persistent efforts, and the harvest was abundant. In a short time\nthe number of churches among these people had increased to ten.\n\nThe famous chief, Garakontie, whose conversion to Christianity caused so\nmuch joy to the pious Bishop of Petraea and to all the Christians of\nCanada, was endowed with a rare intelligence, and all who approached him\nrecognized in him a mind as keen as it was profound. Not only did he\nkeep faithfully the promises which he had made on receiving baptism, but\nthe gratitude which he continued to feel towards the bishop and the\nmissionaries made him remain until his death the devoted friend of the\nFrench. \"He is an incomparable man,\" wrote Father Millet one day. \"He is\nthe soul of all the good that is done here; he supports the faith by his\ninfluence; he maintains peace by his authority; he declares himself so\nclearly for France that we may justly call him the protector of the\nCrown in this country.\" Feeling life escaping, he wished to give what\nthe savages call their \"farewell feast,\" a touching custom, especially\nwhen Christianity comes to sanctify it. His last words were for the\nvenerable prelate, to whom he had vowed a deep attachment and respect.\n\"The guests having retired,\" wrote Father Lamberville, \"he called me to\nhim. 'So we must part at last,' said he to me; 'I am willing, since I\nhope to go to Heaven.' He then begged me to tell my beads with him,\nwhich I did, together with several Christians, and then he called me and\nsaid to me: 'I am dying.' Then he gave up the ghost very peacefully.\"\n\nThe labour demanded at this period by pastoral visits in a diocese so\nextended may readily be imagined. Besides the towns of Quebec, Montreal\nand Three Rivers, in which was centralized the general activity, there\nwere then several Christian villages, those of Lorette, Ste. Foy,\nSillery, the village of La Montagne at Montreal, of the Sault St. Louis,\nand of the Prairie de la Madeleine. Far from avoiding these trips, Mgr.\nde Laval took pleasure in visiting all the cabins of the savages, one\nafter another, spreading the good Word, consoling the afflicted, and\nhimself administering the sacraments of the Church to those who wished\nto receive them.\n\nFather Dablon gives us in these terms the narrative of the visit of the\nbishop to the Prairie de la Madeleine in 1676. \"This man,\" says he,\nspeaking of the prelate, \"this man, great by birth and still greater by\nhis virtues, which have been quite recently the admiration of all\nFrance, and which on his last voyage to Europe justly acquired for him\nthe esteem and the approval of the king; this great man, making the\nrounds of his diocese, was conveyed in a little bark canoe by two\npeasants, exposed to all the inclemencies of the climate, without other\nretinue than a single ecclesiastic, and without carrying anything but a\nwooden cross and the ornaments absolutely necessary to a _bishop of\ngold_, according to the expression of authors in speaking of the first\nprelates of Christianity.\"\n\n [The expedition of Dollard is related in detail by Dollier de\n Casson, and by Mother Mary of the Incarnation in her letters. The\n Abbe de Belmont gives a further account of the episode in his\n history. The _Jesuit Relations_ place the scene of the affair at\n the Chaudiere Falls. The sceptically-minded are referred to\n Kingsford's _History of Canada_, vol. I., p. 261, where a less\n romantic view of the affair is taken.]--Editors' Note on the\n Dollard Episode.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nSETTLEMENT OF THE COLONY\n\n\nTo the great joy of Mgr. de Laval the colony was about to develop\nsuddenly, thanks to the establishment in the fertile plains of New\nFrance of the time-expired soldiers of the regiment of Carignan. The\nimportance of the peopling of his diocese had always been capital in the\neyes of the bishop, and we have seen him at work obtaining from the\ncourt new consignments of colonists. Accordingly, in the year 1663,\nthree hundred persons had embarked at La Rochelle for Canada.\nUnfortunately, the majority of these passengers were quite young people,\nclerks or students, in quest of adventure, who had never worked with\ntheir hands. The consequences of this deplorable emigration were\ndisastrous; more than sixty of these poor children died during the\nvoyage. The king was startled at such negligence, and the three hundred\ncolonists who embarked the following year, in small detachments, arrived\nin excellent condition. Moreover, they had made the voyage without\nexpense, but had in return hired to work for three years with the\nfarmers, for an annual wage which was to be fixed by the authorities.\n\"It will seem to you perhaps strange,\" wrote M. de Villeray, to the\nminister Colbert, \"to see that we make workmen coming to us from France\nundergo a sort of apprenticeship, by distribution among the inhabitants;\nyet there is nothing more necessary, first, because the men brought to\nus are not accustomed to the tilling of the soil; secondly, a man who is\nnot accustomed to work, unless he is urged, has difficulty in adapting\nhimself to it; thirdly, the tasks of this country are very different\nfrom those of France, and experience shows us that a man who has\nwintered three years in the country, and who then hires out at service,\nreceives double the wages of one just arriving from the Old Country.\nThese are reasons of our own which possibly would not be admitted in\nFrance by those who do not understand them.\"\n\nThe Sovereign Council recommended, moreover, that there should be sent\nonly men from the north of France, \"because,\" it asserted, \"the Normans,\nPercherons, Picards, and people from the neighbourhood of Paris are\ndocile, laborious, industrious, and have much more religion. Now, it is\nimportant in the establishment of a country to sow good seed.\" While we\naccept in the proper spirit this eulogy of our ancestors, who came\nmostly from these provinces, how inevitably it suggests a comparison\nwith the spirit of scepticism and irreverence which now infects,\ntransitorily, let us hope, these regions of Northern France.\n\nNever before had the harbour of Quebec seen so much animation as in the\nyear 1665. The solicitor-general, Bourdon, had set foot on the banks of\nthe St. Lawrence in early spring; he escorted a number of girls chosen\nby order of the queen. Towards the middle of August two ships arrived\nbearing four companies of the regiment of Carignan, and the following\nmonth three other vessels brought, together with eight other companies,\nGovernor de Courcelles and Commissioner Talon. Finally, on October 2nd,\none hundred and thirty robust colonists and eighty-two maidens,\ncarefully chosen, came to settle in the colony.\n\nIf we remember that there were only at this time seventy houses in\nQuebec, we may say without exaggeration that the number of persons who\ncame from France in this year, 1665, exceeded that of the whole white\npopulation already resident in Canada. But it was desirable to keep this\npopulation in its entirety, and Commissioner Talon, well seconded by\nMgr. de Laval, tenaciously pursued this purpose. The soldiers of\nCarignan, all brave, and pious too, for the most part, were highly\ndesirable colonists. \"What we seek most,\" wrote Mother Mary of the\nIncarnation, \"is the glory of God and the welfare of souls. That is what\nwe are working for, as well as to assure the prevalence of devotion in\nthe army, giving the men to understand that we are waging here a holy\nwar. There are as many as five hundred of them who have taken the\nscapulary of the Holy Virgin, and many others who recite the chaplet of\nthe Holy Family every day.\"\n\nTalon met with a rather strong opposition to his immigration plans in\nthe person of the great Colbert, who was afraid of seeing the Mother\nCountry depopulated in favour of her new daughter Canada. His\nperseverance finally won the day, and more than four hundred soldiers\nsettled in the colony. Each common soldier received a hundred francs,\neach sergeant a hundred and fifty francs. Besides, forty thousand francs\nwere used in raising in France the additional number of fifty girls and\na hundred and fifty men, which, increased by two hundred and thirty-five\ncolonists, sent by the company in 1667, fulfilled the desires of the\nBishop of Petraea.\n\nThe country would soon have been self-supporting if similar energy had\nbeen continuously employed in its development. It is a miracle that a\nhandful of emigrants, cast almost without resources upon the northern\nshore of America, should have been able to maintain themselves so long,\nin spite of continual alarms, in spite of the deprivation of all\ncomfort, and in spite of the rigour of the climate. With wonderful\ncourage and patience they conquered a vast territory, peopled it,\ncultivated its soil, and defended it by prodigies of valour against the\nforays of the Indians.\n\nThe colony, happily, was to keep its bishop, the worthy Governor de\nCourcelles, and the best administrator it ever had, the Commissioner\nTalon. But it was to lose a lofty intellect: the Marquis de Tracy, his\nmission ended to the satisfaction of all, set sail again for France.\nFrom the moment of his arrival in Canada the latter had inspired the\ngreatest confidence. \"These three gentlemen,\" say the annals of the\nhospital, speaking of the viceroy, of M. de Courcelles and M. Talon,\n\"were endowed with all desirable qualities. They added to an attractive\nexterior much wit, gentleness and prudence, and were admirably adapted\nto instil a high idea of the royal majesty and power; they sought all\nmeans proper for moulding the country and laboured at this task with\ngreat application. This colony, under their wise leadership, expanded\nwonderfully, and according to all appearances gave hope of becoming most\nflourishing.\" Mgr. de Laval held the Marquis de Tracy in high esteem.\n\"He is a man powerful in word and deed,\" he wrote to Pope Alexander VII,\n\"a practising Christian, and the right arm of religion.\" The viceroy did\nnot fear, indeed, to show that one may be at once an excellent Christian\nand a brave officer, whether he accompanied the Bishop of Petraea on the\npilgrimage to good Ste. Anne, or whether he honoured himself in the\nreligious processions by carrying a corner of the dais with the\ngovernor, the intendant and the agent of the West India Company. He was\nseen also at the laying of the foundation stone of the church of the\nJesuits, at the transfer of the relics of the holy martyrs Flavian and\nFelicitas, at the consecration of the cathedral of Quebec and at that of\nthe chief altar of the church of the Ursulines, in fact, everywhere\nwhere he might set before the faithful the good example of piety and of\nthe respect due to religion.\n\nThe eighteen years of peace with the Iroquois, obtained by the\nexpedition of the Marquis de Tracy, allowed the intendant to encourage\nthe development of the St. Maurice mines, to send the traveller Nicolas\nPerrot to visit all the tribes of the north and west, in order to\nestablish or cement with them relations of trade or friendship, and to\nentrust Father Marquette and M. Joliet with the mission of exploring the\ncourse of the Mississippi. The two travellers carried their exploration\nas far as the junction of this river with the Arkansas, but their\nprovisions failing them, they had to retrace their steps.\n\nThis state of peace came near being disturbed by the gross cupidity of\nsome wretched soldiers. In the spring of 1669 three soldiers of the\ngarrison of Ville-Marie, intoxicated and assassinated an Iroquois chief\nwho was bringing back from his hunting some magnificent furs. M. de\nCourcelles betook himself at once to Montreal, but, during the process\nof this trial, it was learned that several months before three other\nFrenchmen had killed six Mohegan Indians with the same purpose of\nplunder. The excitement aroused by these two murders was such that a\ngeneral uprising of the savage nations was feared; already they had\nbanded together for vengeance, and only the energy of the governor saved\nthe colony from the horrors of another war. In the presence of all the\nIndians then quartered at Ville-Marie, he had the three assassins of the\nIroquois chief brought before him, and caused them to be shot. He\npledged himself at the same time to do like justice to the murderers of\nthe Mohegans, as soon as they should be discovered. He caused, moreover,\nto be restored to the widow of the chief all the furs which had been\nstolen from him, and indemnified the two tribes, and thus by his\nfirmness induced the restless nations to remain at peace. His vigilance\ndid not stop at this. The Iroquois and the Ottawas being on the point of\nrecommencing their feud, he warned them that he would not allow them to\ndisturb the general order and tranquillity. He commanded them to send to\nhim delegates to present the question of their mutual grievances.\nReceiving an arrogant reply from the Iroquois, who thought their country\ninaccessible to the French, he himself set out from Montreal on June\n2nd, 1671, with fifty-six soldiers, in a specially constructed boat and\nthirteen bark canoes. He reached the entrance to Lake Ontario, and so\ndaunted the Iroquois by his audacity that the Ottawas sued for peace.\nProfiting by the alarm with which he had just inspired them, M. de\nCourcelles gave orders to the principal chiefs to go and await him at\nCataraqui, there to treat with him on an important matter. They obeyed,\nand the governor declared to them his plan of constructing at this very\nplace a fort where they might more easily arrange their exchanges. Not\nsuspecting that the French had any other purpose than that of protecting\nthemselves against inroads, they approved this plan; and so Fort\nCataraqui, to-day the city of Kingston, was erected by Count de\nFrontenac, and called after this governor, who was to succeed M. de\nCourcelles.\n\nTheir transitory apprehensions did not interrupt the construction of the\ntwo churches of Quebec and Montreal, for they were built almost at the\nsame time; the first was dedicated on July 11th, 1666, the second, begun\nin 1672, was finished only in 1678. The church of the old city of\nChamplain was of stone, in the form of a Roman cross; its length was one\nhundred feet, its width thirty-eight. It contained, besides the\nprincipal altar, a chapel dedicated to St. Joseph, another to Ste. Anne,\nand the chapel of the Holy Scapulary. Thrice enlarged, it gave place in\n1755 to the present cathedral, for which the foundations of the older\nchurch were used. When the prelate arrived in 1659, the holy offices\nwere already celebrated there, but the bishop hastened to end the work\nwhich it still required. \"There is here,\" he wrote to the Common Father\nof the faithful, \"a cathedral made of stone; it is large and splendid.\nThe divine service is celebrated in it according to the ceremony of\nbishops; our priests, our seminarists, as well as ten or twelve\nchoir-boys, are regularly present there. On great festivals, the mass,\nvespers and evensong are sung to music, with orchestral accompaniment,\nand our organs mingle their harmonious voices with those of the\nchanters. There are in the sacristy some very fine ornaments, eight\nsilver chandeliers, and all the chalices, pyxes, vases and censers are\neither gilt or pure silver.\"\n\nThe Sulpicians as well as the Jesuits have always professed a peculiar\ndevotion to the Virgin Mary. It was the pious founder of St. Sulpice, M.\nOlier, who suggested to the Company of Notre-Dame the idea of\nconsecrating to Mary the establishment of the Island of Montreal in\norder that she might defend it as her property, and increase it as her\ndomain. They gladly yielded to this desire, and even adopted as the seal\nof the company the figure of Our Lady; in addition they confirmed the\nname of Ville-Marie, so happily given to this chosen soil.\n\nIt was the Jesuits who placed the church of Quebec under the patronage\nof the Immaculate Conception, and gave it as second patron St. Louis,\nKing of France. This double choice could not but be agreeable to the\npious Bishop of Petraea. Learning, moreover, that the members of the\nSociety of Jesus renewed each year in Canada their vow to fast on the\neve of the festival of the Immaculate Conception, and to add to this\nmortification several pious practices, with the view of obtaining from\nHeaven the conversion of the savages, he approved this devotion, and\nordered that in future it should likewise be observed in his seminary.\nHe sanctioned other works of piety inspired or established by the Jesuit\nFathers; the _novena_, which has remained so popular with the\nFrench-Canadians, at St. Francois-Xavier, the Brotherhoods of the Holy\nRosary and of the Scapulary of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. He encouraged,\nabove all, devotion to the Holy Family, and prescribed wise regulations\nfor this worship. The Pope deigned to enrich by numerous indulgences the\nbrotherhoods to which it gave birth, and in recent years Leo XIII\ninstituted throughout the Church the celebration of the Festival of the\nHoly Family. \"The worship of the Holy Family,\" the illustrious pontiff\nproclaims in a recent bull, \"was established in America, in the region\nof Canada, where it became most flourishing, thanks chiefly to the\nsolicitude and activity of the venerable servant of God, Francois de\nMontmorency Laval, first Bishop of Quebec, and of God's worthy\nhandmaiden, Marguerite Bourgeoys.\" According to Cardinal Taschereau, it\nwas Father Pijard who established the first Brotherhood of the Holy\nFamily in 1650 in the Island of Montreal, but the real promoter of this\ncult was another Father of the Company of Jesus, Father Chaumonot, whom\nMgr. de Laval brought specially to Quebec to set at the head of the\nbrotherhood which he had decided to found.\n\nIt was the custom, in these periods of fervent faith, to place\nbuildings, cities and even countries under the aegis of a great saint,\nand Louis XIII had done himself the honour of dedicating France to the\nVirgin Mary. People did not then blush to practise and profess their\nbeliefs, nor to proclaim them aloud. On the proposal of the Recollets in\na general assembly, St. Joseph was chosen as the first patron saint of\nCanada; later, St. Francois-Xavier was adopted as the second special\nprotector of the colony.\n\nMontreal, which in the early days of its existence maintained with its\nrival of Cape Diamond a strife of emulation in the path of good as well\nas in that of progress, could no longer do without a religious edifice\nworthy of its already considerable importance. Mgr. de Laval was at this\ntime on a round of pastoral visits, for, in spite of the fatigue\nattaching to such a journey, at a time when there was not yet even a\ncarriage-road between the two towns, and when, braving contrary winds,\nstorms and the snares of the Iroquois, one had to ascend the St.\nLawrence in a bark canoe, the worthy prelate made at least eight visits\nto Montreal during the period of his administration. In a general\nassembly of May 12th, 1669, presided over by him, it was decided to\nestablish the church on ground which had belonged to Jean de\nSaint-Pere, but since this site had not the elevation on which the\nSulpicians desired to see the new temple erected, the work was suspended\nfor two years more. The ecclesiastics of the seminary offered on this\nvery height (for M. Dollier had given to the main street the name of\nNotre-Dame, which was that of the future church) some lots bought by\nthem from Nicolas Gode and from Mme. Jacques Lemoyne, and situated\nbehind their house; they offered besides in the name of M. de\nBretonvilliers the sum of a thousand _livres tournois_ for three years,\nto begin the work. These offers were accepted in an assembly of all the\ninhabitants, on June 10th, 1672; Francois Bailly, master mason, directed\nthe building, and on the thirtieth of the same month, before the deeply\nmoved and pious population, there were laid, immediately after high\nmass, the first five stones. There had been chosen the name of the\nPurification, because this day was the anniversary of that on which MM.\nOlier and de la Dauversiere had caught the first glimpses of their\nvocation to work at the establishment of Ville-Marie, and because this\nfestival had always remained in high honour among the Montrealers. The\nfoundation was laid by M. de Courcelles, governor-general; the second\nstone had been reserved for M. Talon, but, as he could not accept the\ninvitation, his place was taken by M. Philippe de Carion, representative\nof M. de la Motte Saint-Paul. The remaining stones were laid by M.\nPerrot, governor of the island, by M. Dollier de Casson, representing M.\nde Bretonvilliers, and by Mlle. Mance, foundress of the Montreal\nhospital. The sight of this ceremony was one of the last joys of this\ngood woman; she died on June 18th of the following year.\n\nMeanwhile, all desired to contribute to the continuation of the work;\nsome offered money, others materials, still others their labour. In\ntheir ardour the priests of the seminary had the old fort, which was\nfalling into ruins, demolished in order to use the wood and stone for\nthe new building. As lords of the island, they seemed to have the\nincontestable right to dispose of an edifice which was their private\nproperty. But M. de Bretonvilliers, to whom they referred the matter,\ntook them to task for their haste, and according to his instructions the\nwork of demolition was stopped, not to be resumed until ten years later.\nThe colonists had an ardent desire to see their church finished, but\nthey were poor, and, though a collection had brought in, in 1676, the\nsum of two thousand seven hundred francs, the work dragged along for two\nyears more, and was finished only in 1678. \"The church had,\" says M.\nMorin, \"the form of a Roman cross, with the lower sides ending in a\ncircular apse; its portal, built of hewn stone, was composed of two\ndesigns, one Tuscan, the other Doric; the latter was surmounted by a\ntriangular pediment. This beautiful entrance, erected in 1722, according\nto the plans of Chaussegros de Lery, royal engineer, was flanked on the\nright side by a square tower crowned by a campanile, from the summit of\nwhich rose a beautiful cross with _fleur-de-lis_ twenty-four feet high.\nThis church was built in the axis of Notre-Dame Street, and a portion of\nit on the Place d'Armes; it measured, in the clear, one hundred and\nforty feet long, and ninety-six feet wide, and the tower one hundred and\nforty-four feet high. It was razed in 1830, and the tower demolished in\n1843.\"\n\nMontreal continued to progress, and therefore to build. The Sulpicians,\nfinding themselves cramped in their old abode, began in 1684 the\nconstruction of a new seigniorial and chapter house, of one hundred and\nseventy-eight feet frontage by eighty-four feet deep. These vast\nbuildings, whose main facade faces on Notre-Dame Street, in front of the\nPlace d'Armes, still exist. They deserve the attention of the tourist,\nif only by reason of their antiquity, and on account of the old clock\nwhich surmounts them, for though it is the most ancient of all in North\nAmerica, this clock still marks the hours with average exactness. Behind\nthese old walls extends a magnificent garden.\n\nThe spectacle presented by Ville-Marie at this time was most edifying.\nThis great village was the school of martyrdom, and all aspired thereto,\nfrom the most humble artisan and the meanest soldier to the brigadier,\nthe commandant, the governor, the priests and the nuns, and they found\nin this aspiration, this faith and this hope, a strength and happiness\nknown only to the chosen. From the bosom of this city had sprung the\nseventeen heroes who gave to the world, at the foot of the Long Sault, a\nmagnificent example of what the spirit of Christian sacrifice can do; to\na population which gave of its own free will its time and its labour to\nthe building of a temple for the Lord, God had assigned a leader, who\ntook upon his shoulders a heavy wooden cross, and bore it for the\ndistance of a league up the steep flanks of Mount Royal, to plant it\nsolemnly upon the summit; within the walls of the seminary lived men\nlike M. Souart, physician of hearts and bodies, or like MM. Lemaitre and\nVignal, who were destined to martyrdom; in the halls of the hospital\nMlle. Mance vied with Sisters de Bresoles, Maillet and de Mace, in\nattending to the most repugnant infirmities or healing the most tedious\nmaladies; last but not least, Sister Bourgeoys and her pious comrades,\nSisters Aimee Chatel, Catherine Crolo, and Marie Raisin, who formed the\nnucleus of the Congregation, devoted themselves with unremitting zeal to\nthe arduous task of instruction.\n\nAnother favour was about to be vouchsafed to Canada in the birth of\nMlle. Leber. M. de Maisonneuve and Mlle. Mance were her godparents, and\nthe latter gave her her baptismal name. Jeanne Leber reproduced all the\nvirtues of her godmother, and gave to Canada an example worthy of the\nprimitive Church, and such as finds small favour in the practical world\nof to-day. She lived a recluse for twenty years with the Sisters of the\nCongregation, and practised, till death relieved her, mortifications\nmost terrifying to the physical nature.\n\nAt Quebec, the barometer of piety, if I may be excused so bold a\nmetaphor, held at the same level as that of Montreal, and he would be\ngreatly deceived who, having read only the history of the early years of\nthe latter city, should despair of finding in the centre of edification\nfounded by Champlain, men worthy to rank with Queylus and Lemaitre, with\nSouart and Vignal, with Closse and Maisonneuve, and women who might vie\nwith Marguerite Bourgeoys, with Jeanne Mance or with Jeanne Leber. To\nthe piety of the Sulpicians of the colony planted at the foot of Mount\nRoyal corresponded the fervour both of the priests who lived under the\nsame roof as Mgr. de Laval, and of the sons of Loyola, who awaited in\ntheir house at Quebec their chance of martyrdom; the edifying examples\ngiven by the military chiefs of Montreal were equalled by those set by\ngovernors like de Mezy and de Courcelles; finally the virtues bordering\non perfection of women like Mlle. Leber and the foundresses of the\nhospital and the Congregation found their equivalents in those of the\npious Bishop of Petraea, of Mme. de la Peltrie and those of Mothers Mary\nof the Incarnation and Andree Duplessis de Sainte-Helene.\n\nThe Church will one day, perhaps, set upon her altars Mother Mary of\nthe Incarnation, the first superior of the Ursulines at Quebec. The\nTheresa of New France, as she has been called, was endowed with a calm\ncourage, an incredible patience, and a superior intellect, especially in\nspiritual matters; we find the proof of this in her letters and\nmeditations which her son published in France. \"At the head,\" says the\nAbbe Ferland, \"of a community of weak women, devoid of resources, she\nmanaged to inspire her companions with the strength of soul and the\ntrust in God which animated herself. In spite of the unteachableness and\nthe fickleness of the Algonquin maidens, the troublesome curiosity of\ntheir parents, the thousand trials of a new and poor establishment,\nMother Incarnation preserved an evenness of temper which inspired her\ncomrades in toil with courage. Did some sudden misfortune appear, she\narose with all the greatness of a Christian of the primitive Church to\nmeet it with steadfastness. If her son spoke to her of the ill-treatment\nto which she was exposed on the part of the Iroquois, at a time when the\naffairs of the French seemed desperate, she replied calmly: 'Have no\nanxiety for me. I do not speak as to martyrdom, for your affection for\nme would incline you to desire it for me, but I mean as to other\noutrages. I see no reason for apprehension; all that I hear does not\ndismay me.' When she was cast out upon the snow, together with her\nsisters, in the middle of a winter's night, by reason of a\nconflagration which devoured her convent, her first act was to prevail\nupon her companions to kneel with her to thank God for having preserved\ntheir lives, though He despoiled them of all that they possessed in the\nworld. Her strong and noble soul seemed to rise naturally above the\nmisfortunes which assailed the growing colony. Trusting fully to God\nthrough the most violent storms, she continued to busy herself calmly\nwith her work, as if nothing in the world had been able to move her. At\na moment when many feared that the French would be forced to leave the\ncountry, Mother of the Incarnation, in spite of her advanced age, began\nto study the language of the Hurons in order to make herself useful to\nthe young girls of this tribe. Ever tranquil, she did not allow herself\nto be carried away by enthusiasm or stayed by fear. 'We imagine\nsometimes,' she wrote to her former superior at Tours, 'that a certain\npassing inclination is a vocation; no, events show the contrary. In our\nmomentary enthusiasms we think more of ourselves than of the object we\nface, and so we see that when this enthusiasm is once past, our\ntendencies and inclinations remain on the ordinary plane of life.' Built\non such a foundation, her piety was solid, sincere and truly\nenlightened. In perusing her writings, we are astonished at finding in\nthem a clearness of thought, a correctness of style, and a firmness of\njudgment which give us a lofty idea of this really superior woman.\nClever in handling the brush as well as the pen, capable of directing\nthe work of building as well as domestic labour, she combined, according\nto the opinion of her contemporaries, all the qualities of the strong\nwoman of whom the Holy Scriptures give us so fine a portrait. She was\nentrusted with all the business of the convent. She wrote a prodigious\nnumber of letters, she learned the two mother tongues of the country,\nthe Algonquin and the Huron, and composed for the use of her sisters, a\nsacred history in Algonquin, a catechism in Huron, an Iroquois catechism\nand dictionary, and a dictionary, catechism and collection of prayers in\nthe Algonquin language.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE SMALLER SEMINARY\n\n\nThe smaller seminary, founded by the Bishop of Petraea in 1668, for\nyouths destined to the ecclesiastical life, justified the expectations\nof its founder, and witnessed an ever increasing influx of students. On\nthe day of its inauguration, October 9th, there were only as yet eight\nFrench pupils and six Huron children. For lack of teachers the young\nneophytes, placed under the guidance of directors connected with the\nseminary, attended during the first years the classes of the Jesuit\nFathers. Their special costume was a blue cloak, confined by a belt. At\nthis period the College of the Jesuits contained already some sixty\nresident scholars, and what proves to us that serious studies were here\npursued is that several scholars are quoted in the memoirs as having\nsuccessfully defended in the presence of the highest authorities of the\ncolony theses on physics and philosophy.\n\nIf the first bishop of New France had confined himself to creating one\nlarge seminary, it is certain that his chosen work, which was the\npreparation for the Church of a nursery of scholars and priests, the\napostles of the future, would not have been complete.\n\nFor many young people, indeed, who lead a worldly existence, and find\nthemselves all at once transferred to the serious, religious life of the\nseminary, the surprise, and sometimes the discomfort, may be great. One\nmust adapt oneself to this atmosphere of prayer, meditation and study.\nThe rules of prayer are certainly not beyond the limits of an ordinary\nmind, but the practice is more difficult than the theory. Not without\neffort can a youthful imagination, a mind ardent and consumed by its own\nfervour, relinquish all the memories of family and social occupations,\nin order to withdraw into silence, inward peace, and the mortification\nof the senses. To the devoutly-minded our worldly life may well seem\npetty in comparison with the more spiritual existence, and in the\nreligious life, for the priest especially, lies the sole source and the\nindispensable condition of happiness. But one must learn to be thus\nhappy by humility, study and prayer, as one learns to be a soldier by\nobedience, discipline and exercise, and in nothing did Laval more reveal\nhis discernment than in the recognition of the fact that the transition\nfrom one life to the other must be effected only after careful\ninstruction and wisely-guided deliberation.\n\nThe aim of the smaller seminary is to guide, by insensible gradations\ntowards the great duties and the great responsibilities of the\npriesthood, young men upon whom the spirit of God seems to have rested.\nThere were in Israel schools of prophets; this does not mean that their\ntraining ended in the diploma of a seer or an oracle, but that this\nnovitiate was favourable to the action of God upon their souls, and\ninclined them thereto. A smaller seminary possesses also the hope of the\nharvest. It is there that the minds of the students, by exercises\nproportionate to their age, become adapted unconstrainedly to pious\nreading, to the meditation and the grave studies in whose cycle the life\nof the priest must pass.\n\nWe shall not be surprised if the prelate's followers recognized in the\nworks of faith which sprang up in his footsteps and progressed on all\nhands at Ville-Marie and at Quebec shining evidences of the protection\nof Mary to whose tutelage they had dedicated their establishments. This\nprotection indeed has never been withheld, since to-day the fame of the\nuniversity which sprang from the seminary, as a fruit develops from a\nbud, has crossed the seas. Father Monsabre, the eloquent preacher of\nNotre-Dame in Paris, speaking of the union of science and faith,\nexclaimed: \"There exists, in the field of the New World, an institution\nwhich has religiously preserved this holy alliance and the traditions of\nthe older universities, the Laval University of Quebec.\"\n\nMgr. de Laval, while busying himself with the training of his clergy,\nwatched over the instruction of youth. He protected his schools and his\ndioceses; at Quebec the Jesuits, and later the seminary, maintained even\nelementary schools. If we must believe the Abbe de Latour and other\nwriters of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the children of the\nearly colonists, skilful in manual labour, showed, nevertheless, great\nindolence of mind. \"In general,\" writes Latour, \"Canadian children have\nintelligence, memory and facility, and they make rapid progress, but the\nfickleness of their character, a dominant taste for liberty, and their\nhereditary and natural inclination for physical exercise do not permit\nthem to apply themselves with sufficient perseverance and assiduity to\nbecome learned men; satisfied with a certain measure of knowledge\nsufficient for the ordinary purposes of their occupations (and this is,\nindeed, usually possessed), we see no people deeply learned in any\nbranch of science. We must further admit that there are few resources,\nfew books, and little emulation. No doubt the resources will be\nmultiplied, and clever persons will appear in proportion as the colony\nincreases.\" Always eager to develop all that might serve for the\npropagation of the faith or the progress of the colony, the devoted\nprelate eagerly fostered this natural aptitude of the Canadians for the\narts and trades, and he established at St. Joachim a boarding-school for\ncountry children; this offered, besides a solid primary education,\nlessons in agriculture and some training for different trades.\n\nMgr. de Laval gave many other proofs of his enlightened charity for the\npoor and the waifs of fortune; he approved and encouraged among other\nworks the Brotherhood of Saint Anne at Quebec. This association of\nprayer and spiritual aid had been established but three years before his\narrival; it was directed by a chaplain and two directors, the latter\nelected annually by secret ballot. He had wished to offer in 1660 a more\nstriking proof of his devotion to the Mother of the Holy Virgin, and had\ncaused to be built on the shore of Beaupre the first sanctuary of Saint\nAnne. This temple arose not far from a chapel begun two years before,\nunder the care of the Abbe de Queylus. The origin of this place of\ndevotion, it appears, was a great peril to which certain Breton sailors\nwere exposed: assailed by a tempest in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, about\nthe beginning of the seventeenth century, they made a vow to erect, if\nthey escaped death, a chapel to good Saint Anne on the spot where they\nshould land. Heaven heard their prayers, and they kept their word. The\nchapel erected by Mgr. de Laval was a very modest one, but the zealous\nmissionary of Beaupre, the Abbe Morel, then chaplain, was the witness of\nmany acts of ardent faith and sincere piety; the Bishop of Petraea\nhimself made several pilgrimages to the place. \"We confess,\" says he,\n\"that nothing has aided us more efficaciously to support the burden of\nthe pastoral charge of this growing church than the special devotion\nwhich all the inhabitants of this country dedicate to Saint Anne, a\ndevotion which, we affirm it with certainty, distinguishes them from\nall other peoples.\" The poor little chapel, built of uprights, gave\nplace in 1675 to a stone church erected by the efforts of M. Filion,\nproctor of the seminary, and it was noted for an admirable picture given\nby the viceroy, de Tracy, who did not disdain to make his pilgrimage\nlike the rest, and to set thus an example which the great ones of the\nearth should more frequently give. This church lasted only a few years;\nMgr. de Laval was still living when a third temple was built upon its\nsite. This was enlarged in 1787, and gave place only in 1878 to the\nmagnificent cathedral which we admire to-day. The faith which raised\nthis sanctuary to consecrate it to Saint Anne did not die with its pious\nfounder; it is still lively in our hearts, since in 1898 a hundred and\ntwenty thousand pilgrims went to pray before the relic of Saint Anne,\nthe precious gift of Mgr. de Laval.\n\nIn our days, hardly has the sun melted the thick mantle of snow which\ncovers during six months the Canadian soil, hardly has the majestic St.\nLawrence carried its last blocks of ice down to the ocean, when caravans\nof pious pilgrims from all quarters of the country wend their way\ntowards the sanctuary raised upon the shores of Beaupre. Whole families\nfill the cars; the boats of the Richelieu Company stop to receive\npassengers at all the charming villages strewn along the banks of the\nriver, and the cathedral which raises in the air its slender spires on\neither side of the immense statue of Saint Anne does not suffice to\ncontain the ever renewed throng of the faithful.\n\nEven in the time of Mgr. de Laval, pilgrimages to Saint Anne's were\nfrequent, and it was not only French people but also savages who\naddressed to the Mother of the Virgin Mary fervent, and often very\nartless, prayers. The harvest became, in fact, more abundant in the\nmissions, and\n\n \"Les pretres ne pouvaient suffire aux sacrifices.\"[4]\n\nFrom the banks of the Saguenay at Tadousac, or from the shore of Hudson\nBay, where Father Albanel was evangelizing the Indians, to the recesses\nof the Iroquois country, a Black Robe taught from interval to interval\nin a humble chapel the truths of the Christian religion. \"We may say,\"\nwrote Father Dablon in 1671, \"that the torch of the faith now illumines\nthe four quarters of this New World. More than seven hundred baptisms\nhave this year consecrated all our forests; more than twenty different\nmissions incessantly occupy our Fathers among more than twenty diverse\nnations; and the chapels erected in the districts most remote from here\nare almost every day filled with these poor barbarians, and in some of\nthem there have been consummated sometimes ten, twenty, and even thirty\nbaptisms on a single occasion.\" And, ever faithful to the established\npower, the missionaries taught their neophytes not only religion, but\nalso the respect due to the king. Let us hearken to Father Allouez\nspeaking to the mission of Sault Ste. Marie: \"Cast your eyes,\" says he,\n\"upon the cross raised so high above your heads. It was upon that cross\nthat Jesus Christ, the son of God, become a man by reason of His love\nfor men, consented to be bound and to die, in order to satisfy His\nEternal Father for our sins. He is the master of our life, the master of\nHeaven, earth and hell. It is He of whom I speak to you without ceasing,\nand whose name and word I have borne into all these countries. But\nbehold at the same time this other stake, on which are hung the arms of\nthe great captain of France, whom we call the king. This great leader\nlives beyond the seas; he is the captain of the greatest captains, and\nhas not his peer in the world. All the captains that you have ever seen,\nand of whom you have heard speak, are only children beside him. He is\nlike a great tree; the rest are only little plants crushed under men's\nfootsteps as they walk. You know Onontio, the famous chieftain of\nQuebec; you know that he is the terror of the Iroquois, his mere name\nmakes them tremble since he has desolated their country and burned their\nvillages. Well, there are beyond the seas ten thousand Onontios like\nhim. They are only the soldiers of this great captain, our great king,\nof whom I speak to you.\"\n\nMgr. de Laval ardently desired, then, the arrival of new workers for the\ngospel, and in the year 1668, the very year of the foundation of the\nseminary, his desire was fulfilled, as if Providence wished to reward\nHis servant at once. Missionaries from France came to the aid of the\npriests of the Quebec seminary, and Sulpicians, such as MM. de Queylus,\nd'Urfe, Dallet and Brehan de Gallinee, arrived at Montreal; MM. Francois\nde Salignac-Fenelon and Claude Trouve had already landed the year\nbefore. \"I have during the last month,\" wrote the prelate, \"commissioned\ntwo most good and virtuous apostles to go to an Iroquois community which\nhas been for some years established quite near us on the northern side\nof the great Lake Ontario. One is M. de Fenelon, whose name is\nwell-known in Paris, and the other M. Trouve. We have not yet been able\nto learn the result of their mission, but we have every reason to hope\nfor its complete success.\"\n\nWhile he was enjoining upon these two missionaries, on their departure\nfor the mission on which he was sending them, that they should always\nremain in good relations with the Jesuit Fathers, he gave them some\nadvice worthy of the most eminent doctors of the Church:--\n\n\"A knowledge of the language,\" he says, \"is necessary in order to\ninfluence the savages. It is, nevertheless, one of the smallest parts of\nthe equipment of a good missionary, just as in France to speak French\nwell is not what makes a successful preacher. The talents which make\ngood missionaries are:\n\n\"1. To be filled with the spirit of God; this spirit must animate our\nwords and our hearts: _Ex abundantia cordis os loquitur_.\n\n\"2. To have great prudence in the choice and arrangement of the things\nwhich are necessary either to enlighten the understanding or to bend the\nwill; all that does not tend in this direction is labour lost.\n\n\"3. To be very assiduous, in order not to lose opportunities of\nprocuring the salvation of souls, and supplying the neglect which is\noften manifest in neophytes; for, since the devil on his part _circuit\ntanquam leo rugiens, quaerens quem devoret_, so we must be vigilant\nagainst his efforts, with care, gentleness and love.\n\n\"4. To have nothing in our life and in our manners which may appear to\nbelie what we say, or which may estrange the minds and hearts of those\nwhom we wish to win to God.\n\n\"5. We must make ourselves beloved by our gentleness, patience and\ncharity, and win men's minds and hearts to incline them to God. Often a\nbitter word, an impatient act or a frowning countenance destroys in a\nmoment what has taken a long time to produce.\n\n\"6. The spirit of God demands a peaceful and pious heart, not a restless\nand dissipated one; one should have a joyous and modest countenance; one\nshould avoid jesting and immoderate laughter, and in general all that is\ncontrary to a holy and joyful modesty: _Modestia vestra nota sit\nomnibus hominibus_.\"\n\nThe new Sulpicians had been most favourably received by Mgr. de Laval,\nand the more so since almost all of them belonged to great families and\nhad renounced, like himself, ease and honour, to devote themselves to\nthe rude apostleship of the Canadian missions.\n\nThe difficulties between the bishop and the Abbe de Queylus had\ndisappeared, and had left no trace of bitterness in the souls of these\ntwo servants of God. M. de Queylus gave good proof of this subsequently;\nhe gave six thousand francs to the hospital of Quebec, of which one\nthousand were to endow facilities for the treatment of the poor, and\nfive thousand for the maintenance of a choir-nun. His generosity,\nmoreover, was proverbial: \"I cannot find a man more grateful for the\nfavour that you have done him than M. de Queylus,\" wrote the intendant,\nTalon, to the minister, Colbert. \"He is going to arrange his affairs in\nFrance, divide with his brothers, and collect his worldly goods to use\nthem in Canada, at least so he has assured me. If he has need of your\nprotection, he is striving to make himself worthy of it, and I know that\nhe is most zealous for the welfare of this colony. I believe that a\nlittle show of benevolence on your part would redouble this zeal, of\nwhich I have good evidence, for what you desire the most, the education\nof the native children, which he furthers with all his might.\"\n\nThe abbe found the seminary in conditions very different from those\nprevailing at the time of his departure. In 1663, the members of the\nCompany of Notre-Dame of Montreal had made over to the Sulpicians the\nwhole Island of Montreal and the seigniory of St. Sulpice. Their purpose\nwas to assure the future of the three works which they had not ceased,\nsince the birth of their association, to seek to establish: a seminary\nfor the education of priests in the colony, an institution of education\nfor young girls, and a hospital for the care of the sick.\n\nTo learn the happy results due to the eloquence of MM. Trouve and de\nFenelon engaged in the evangelization of the tribes encamped to the\nnorth of Lake Ontario, or to that of MM. Dollier de Casson and Gallinee\npreaching on the shores of Lake Erie, one must read the memoirs of the\nJesuit Fathers. We must bear in mind that many facts, which might appear\nto redound too much to the glory of the missionaries, the modesty of\nthese men refused to give to the public. We shall give an example. One\nday when M. de Fenelon had come down to Quebec, in the summer of 1669,\nto give account of his efforts to his bishop, Mgr. de Laval begged the\nmissionary to write a short abstract of his labours for the memoirs.\n\"Monseigneur,\" replied humbly the modest Sulpician, \"the greatest favour\nthat you can do us is not to allow us to be mentioned.\" Will he, at\nleast, like the traveller who, exhausted by fatigue and privation,\nreaches finally the promised land, repose in Capuan delights? Mother\nMary of the Incarnation informs us on this point: \"M. l'abbe de\nFenelon,\" says she, \"having wintered with the Iroquois, has paid us a\nvisit. I asked him how he had been able to subsist, having had only\nsagamite[5] as sole provision, and pure water to drink. He replied that\nhe was so accustomed to it that he made no distinction between this food\nand any other, and that he was about to set out on his return to pass\nthe winter again there with M. de Trouve, having left him only to go and\nget the wherewithal to pay the Indians who feed them. The zeal of these\ngreat servants of God is admirable.\"\n\nThe activity and the devotion of the Jesuits and of the Sulpicians might\nthus make up for lack of numbers, and Mgr. de Laval judged that they\nwere amply sufficient for the task of the holy ministry. But the\nintendant, Talon, feared lest the Society of Jesus should become\nomnipotent in the colony; adopting from policy the famous device of\nCatherine de Medici, _divide to rule_, he hoped that an order of\nmendicant friars would counterbalance the influence of the sons of\nLoyola, and he brought with him from France, in 1670, Father Allard,\nSuperior of the Recollets in the Province of St. Denis, and four other\nbrothers of the same order. We must confess that, if a new order of\nmonks was to be established in Canada, it was preferable in all justice\nto apply to that of St. Francis rather than to any others, for had it\nnot traced the first evangelical furrows in the new field and left\nglorious memories in the colony?\n\nMgr. de Laval received from the king in 1671 the following letter:\n\n \"My Lord Bishop of Petraea:\n\n \"Having considered that the re-establishment of the monks of the\n Order of St. Francis on the lands which they formerly possessed in\n Canada might be of great avail for the spiritual consolation of my\n subjects and for the relief of your ecclesiastics in the said\n country, I send you this letter to tell you that my intention is\n that you should give to the Rev. Father Allard, the superior, and\n to the four monks whom he brings with him, the power of\n administering the sacraments to all those who may have need of them\n and who may have recourse to these reverend Fathers, and that,\n moreover, you should aid them with your authority in order that\n they may resume possession of all which belongs to them in the said\n country, to all of which I am persuaded you will willingly\n subscribe, by reason of the knowledge which you have of the relief\n which my subjects will receive....\"\n\nThe prelate had not been consulted; moreover, the intervention of the\nnewcomers did not seem to him opportune. But he was obstinate and\nunapproachable only when he believed his conscience involved; he\nreceived the Recollets with great benevolence and rendered them all the\nservice possible. \"He gave them abundant aid,\" says Latour, \"and\nfurnished them for more than a year with food and lodging. Although the\nOrder had come in spite of him, he gave them at the outset four\nmissions: Three Rivers, Ile Perce, St. John's River and Fort Frontenac.\nThese good Fathers were surprised; they did not cease to praise the\ncharity of the bishop, and confessed frankly that, having only come to\noppose his clergy, they could not understand why they were so kindly\ntreated.\"\n\nAfter all, the breadth of character of these brave heroes of evangelic\npoverty could not but please the Canadian people; ever gay and pleasant,\nand of even temper, they traversed the country to beg a meagre pittance.\nEverywhere received with joy, they were given a place at the common\ntable; they were looked upon as friends, and the people related to them\ntheir joys and afflictions. Hardly was a robe of drugget descried upon\nthe horizon when the children rushed forward, surrounded the good\nFather, and led him by the hand to the family fireside. The Recollets\nhad always a good word for this one, a consolatory speech for that one,\nand on occasion, brought up as they had been, for the most part under a\nmodest thatched roof, knew how to lend a hand at the plough, or suggest\na good counsel if the flock were attacked by some sickness. On their\ndeparture, the benediction having been given to all, there was a\nvigorous handshaking, and already their hosts were discounting the\npleasure of a future visit.\n\nOn their arrival the Recollet Fathers lodged not far from the Ursuline\nConvent, till the moment when, their former monastery on the St. Charles\nRiver being repaired, they were able to install themselves there. Some\nyears later they built a simple refuge on land granted them in the Upper\nTown. Finally, having become almoners of the Chateau St. Louis, where\nthe governor resided, they built their monastery opposite the castle,\nback to back with the magnificent church which bore the name of St.\nAnthony of Padua. They reconquered the popularity which they had enjoyed\nin the early days of the colony, and the bishop entrusted to their\ndevotion numerous parishes and four missions. Unfortunately, they\nallowed themselves to be so influenced by M. de Frontenac, in spite of\nrepeated warnings from Mgr. de Laval, that they espoused the cause of\nthe governor in the disputes between the latter and the intendant,\nDuchesneau. Their gratitude towards M. de Frontenac, who always\nprotected them, is easily explained, but it is no less true that they\nshould have respected above all the authority of the prelate who alone\nhad to answer before God for the religious administration of his\ndiocese.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[4] Racine's _Athalie_.\n\n[5] A sort of porridge of water and pounded maize.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE PROGRESS OF THE COLONY\n\n\nThis year, 1668, would have brought only consolations to Mgr. de Laval,\nif, unhappily, M. de Talon had not inflicted a painful blow upon the\nheart of the prelate: the commissioner obtained from the Sovereign\nCouncil a decree permitting the unrestricted sale of intoxicating drinks\nboth to the savages and to the French, and only those who became\nintoxicated might be sentenced to a slight penalty. This was opening the\nway for the greatest abuses, and no later than the following year Mother\nMary of the Incarnation wrote: \"What does the most harm here is the\ntraffic in wine and brandy. We preach against those who give these\nliquors to the savages; and yet many reconcile their consciences to the\npermission of this thing. They go into the woods and carry drinks to the\nsavages in order to get their furs for nothing when they are drunk.\nImmorality, theft and murder ensue.... We had not yet seen the French\ncommit such crimes, and we can attribute the cause of them only to the\npernicious traffic in brandy.\"\n\nCommissioner Talon was, however, the cleverest administrator that the\ncolony had possessed, and the title of the \"Canadian Colbert\" which\nBibaud confers upon him is well deserved. Mother Incarnation summed up\nhis merits well in the following terms: \"M. Talon is leaving us,\" said\nshe, \"and returning to France, to the great regret of everybody and to\nthe loss of all Canada, for since he has been here in the capacity of\ncommissioner the country has progressed and its business prospered more\nthan they had done since the French occupation.\" Talon worked with all\nhis might in developing the resources of the colony, by exploiting the\nmines, by encouraging the fisheries, agriculture, the exportation of\ntimber, and general commerce, and especially by inducing, through the\ngift of a few acres of ground, the majority of the soldiers of the\nregiment of Carignan to remain in the country. He entered every house to\nenquire of possible complaints; he took the first census, and laid out\nthree villages near Quebec. His plans for the future were vaster still:\nhe recommended the king to buy or conquer the districts of Orange and\nManhattan; moreover, according to Abbe Ferland, he dreamed of connecting\nCanada with the Antilles in commerce. With this purpose he had had a\nship built at Quebec, and had bought another in order to begin at once.\nThis very first year he sent to the markets of Martinique and Santo\nDomingo fresh and dry cod, salted salmon, eels, pease, seal and porpoise\noil, clapboards and planks. He had different kinds of wood cut in order\nto try them, and he exported masts to La Rochelle, which he hoped to see\nused in the shipyards of the Royal Navy. He proposed to Colbert the\nestablishment of a brewery, in order to utilize the barley and the\nwheat, which in a few years would be so abundant that the farmer could\nnot sell them. This was, besides, a means of preventing drunkenness, and\nof retaining in the country the sum of one hundred thousand francs,\nwhich went out each year for the purchase of wines and brandies. M.\nTalon presented at the same time to the minister the observations which\nhe had made on the French population of the country. \"The people,\" said\nTalon, \"are a mosaic, and though composed of colonists from different\nprovinces of France whose temperaments do not always sympathize, they\nseem to me harmonious enough. There are,\" he added, \"among these\ncolonists people in easy circumstances, indigent people and people\nbetween these two extremes.\"\n\nBut he thought only of the material development of the colony; upon\nothers, he thought, were incumbent the responsibility for and defence of\nspiritual interests. He was mistaken, for, although he had not in his\npower the direction of souls, his duties as a simple soldier of the army\nof Christ imposed upon him none the less the obligation of avoiding all\nthat might contribute to the loss of even a single soul. The disorders\nwhich were the inevitable result of a free traffic in intoxicating\nliquors, finally assumed such proportions that the council, without\ngoing as far as the absolute prohibition of the sale of brandy to the\nIndians, restricted, nevertheless, this deplorable traffic; it forbade\nunder the most severe penalties the carrying of firewater into the woods\nto the savages, but it continued to tolerate the sale of intoxicating\nliquors in the French settlements. It seems that Cavelier de la Salle\nhimself, in his store at Lachine where he dealt with the Indians, did\nnot scruple to sell them this fatal poison.\n\nFrom 1668 to 1670, during the two years that Commissioner Talon had to\nspend in France, both for reasons of health and on account of family\nbusiness, he did not cease to work actively at the court for his beloved\nCanada. M. de Bouteroue, who took his place during his absence, managed\nto prejudice the minds of the colonists in his favour by his exquisite\nurbanity and the polish of his manners.\n\nIt will not be out of place, we think, to give here some details of the\nstate of the country and its resources at this period. Since the first\ncompanies in charge of Canada were formed principally of merchants of\nRouen, of La Rochelle and of St. Malo, it is not astonishing that the\nfirst colonists should have come largely from Normandy and Perche. It\nwas only about 1660 that fine and vigorous offspring increased a\npopulation which up to that time was renewed only through immigration;\nin the early days, in fact, the colonists lost all their children, but\nthey found in this only a new reason for hope in the future. \"Since God\ntakes the first fruits,\" said they, \"He will save us the rest.\" The wise\nand far-seeing mind of Cardinal Richelieu had understood that\nagricultural development was the first condition of success for a young\ncolony, and his efforts in this direction had been admirably seconded\nboth by Commissioner Talon and Mgr. de Laval at Quebec, and by the\nCompany of Montreal, which had not hesitated at any sacrifice in order\nto establish at Ville-Marie a healthy and industrious population. If the\nreader doubts this, let him read the letters of Talon, of Mother Mary of\nthe Incarnation, of Fathers Le Clercq and Charlevoix, of M. Aubert and\nmany others. \"Great care had been exercised,\" says Charlevoix, \"in the\nselection of candidates who had presented themselves for the\ncolonization of New France.... As to the girls who were sent out to be\nmarried to the new inhabitants, care was always taken to enquire of\ntheir conduct before they embarked, and their subsequent behaviour was a\nproof of the success of this system. During the following years the same\ncare was exercised, and we soon saw in this part of America a generation\nof true Christians growing up, among whom prevailed the simplicity of\nthe first centuries of the Church, and whose posterity has not yet lost\nsight of the great examples set by their ancestors.... In justice to the\ncolony of New France we must admit that the source of almost all the\nfamilies which still survive there to-day is pure and free from those\nstains which opulence can hardly efface; this is because the first\nsettlers were either artisans always occupied in useful labour, or\npersons of good family who came there with the sole intention of living\nthere more tranquilly and preserving their religion in greater security.\nI fear the less contradiction upon this head since I have lived with\nsome of these first colonists, all people still more respectable by\nreason of their honesty, their frankness and the firm piety which they\nprofess than by their white hair and the memory of the services which\nthey rendered to the colony.\"\n\nM. Aubert says, on his part: \"The French of Canada are well built,\nnimble and vigorous, enjoying perfect health, capable of enduring all\nsorts of fatigue, and warlike; which is the reason why, during the last\nwar, French-Canadians received a fourth more pay than the French of\nEurope. All these advantageous physical qualities of the\nFrench-Canadians arise from the fact that they have been born in a good\nclimate, and nourished by good and abundant food, that they are at\nliberty to engage from childhood in fishing, hunting, and journeying in\ncanoes, in which there is much exercise. As to bravery, even if it were\nnot born with them as Frenchmen, the manner of warfare of the Iroquois\nand other savages of this continent, who burn alive almost all their\nprisoners with incredible cruelty, caused the French to face ordinary\ndeath in battle as a boon rather than be taken alive; so that they\nfight desperately and with great indifference to life.\" The consequence\nof this judicious method of peopling a colony was that, the trunk of the\ntree being healthy and vigorous, the branches were so likewise. \"It was\nastonishing,\" wrote Mother Mary of the Incarnation, \"to see the great\nnumber of beautiful and well-made children, without any corporeal\ndeformity unless through accident. A poor man will have eight or more\nchildren, who in the winter go barefooted and bareheaded, with a little\nshirt upon their back, and who live only on eels and bread, and\nnevertheless are plump and large.\"\n\nProperty was feudal, as in France, and this constitution was maintained\neven after the conquest of the country by the English. Vast stretches of\nland were granted to those who seemed, thanks to their state of fortune,\nfit to form centres of population, and these seigneurs granted in their\nturn parts of these lands to the immigrants for a rent of from one to\nthree cents per acre, according to the value of the land, besides a\ntribute in grain and poultry. The indirect taxation consisted of the\nobligation of maintaining the necessary roads, one day's compulsory\nlabour per year, convertible into a payment of forty cents, the right of\n_mouture_, consisting of a pound of flour on every fourteen from the\ncommon mill, finally the payment of a twelfth in case of transfer and\nsale (stamp and registration). This seigniorial tenure was burdensome,\nwe must admit, though it was less crushing than that which weighed upon\nhusbandry in France before the Revolution. The farmers of Canada uttered\na long sigh of relief when it was abolished by the legislature in 1867.\n\nThe habits of this population were remarkably simple; the costume of\nsome of our present out-of-door clubs gives an accurate idea of the\ndress of that time, which was the same for all: the garment of wool, the\ncloak, the belt of arrow pattern, and the woollen cap, called tuque,\nformed the national costume. And not only did the colonists dress\nwithout the slightest affectation, but they even made their clothes\nthemselves. \"The growing of hemp,\" says the Abbe Ferland, \"was\nencouraged, and succeeded wonderfully. They used the nettle to make\nstrong cloths; looms set up in each house in the village furnished\ndrugget, bolting cloth, serge and ordinary cloth. The leathers of the\ncountry sufficed for a great portion of the needs of the population.\nAccordingly, after enumerating the advances in agriculture and industry,\nTalon announced to Colbert with just satisfaction, that he could clothe\nhimself from head to foot in Canadian products, and that in a short time\nthe colony, if it were well administered, would draw from Old France\nonly a few objects of prime need.\"\n\nThe interior of the dwellings was not less simple, and we find still in\nour country districts a goodly number of these old French houses; they\nhad only one single room, in which the whole family ate, lived and\nslept, and received the light through three windows. At the back of the\nroom was the bed of the parents, supported by the wall, in another\ncorner a couch, used as a seat during the day and as a bed for the\nchildren during the night, for the top was lifted off as one lifts the\ncover of a box. Built into the wall, generally at the right of the\nentrance, was the stone chimney, whose top projected a little above the\nroof; the stewpan, in which the food was cooked, was hung in the\nfireplace from a hook. Near the hearth a staircase, or rather a ladder,\nled to the loft, which was lighted by two windows cut in the sides, and\nwhich held the grain. Finally a table, a few chairs or benches completed\nthese primitive furnishings, though we must not forget to mention the\nold gun hung above the bed to be within reach of the hand in case of a\nnight surprise from the dreaded Iroquois.\n\nIn peaceful times, too, the musket had its service, for at this period\nevery Canadian was born a disciple of St. Hubert. We must confess that\nthis great saint did not refuse his protection in this country, where,\nwith a single shot, a hunter killed, in 1663, a hundred and thirty wild\npigeons. These birds were so tame that one might kill them with an oar\non the bank of the river, and so numerous that the colonists, after\nhaving gathered and salted enough for their winter's provision,\nabandoned the rest to the dogs and pigs. How many hunters of our day\nwould have displayed their skill in these fortunate times! This\nabundance of pigeons at a period when our ancestors were not favoured in\nthe matter of food as we are to-day, recalls at once to our memory the\nquail that Providence sent to the Jews in the desert; and it is a fact\nworthy of mention that as soon as our forefathers could dispense with\nthis superabundance of game, the wild pigeons disappeared so totally and\nsuddenly that the most experienced hunters cannot explain this sudden\ndisappearance. There were found also about Ville-Marie many partridge\nand duck, and since the colonists could not go out after game in the\nwoods, where they would have been exposed to the ambuscades of the\nIroquois, the friendly Indians brought to market the bear, the elk, the\ndeer, the buffalo, the caribou, the beaver and the muskrat. On fast days\nthe Canadians did not lack for fish; eels were sold at five francs a\nhundred, and in June, 1649, more than three hundred sturgeons were\ncaught at Montreal within a fortnight. The shad, the pike, the wall-eyed\npike, the carp, the brill, the maskinonge were plentiful, and there was\nbesides, more particularly at Quebec, good herring and salmon fishing,\nwhile at Malbaie (Murray Bay) codfish, and at Three Rivers white fish\nwere abundant.\n\nAt first, food, clothing and property were all paid for by exchange of\ngoods. Men bartered, for example, a lot of ground for two cows and a\npair of stockings; a more considerable piece of land was to be had for\ntwo oxen, a cow and a little money. \"Poverty,\" says Bossuet, speaking\nof other nations, \"was not an evil; on the contrary, they looked upon it\nas a means of keeping their liberty more intact, there being nothing\nfreer or more independent than a man who knows how to live on little,\nand who, without expecting anything from the protection or the largess\nof others, relies for his livelihood only on his industry and labour.\"\nVoltaire has said with equal justice: \"It is not the scarcity of money,\nbut that of men and talent, which makes an empire weak.\"\n\nOn the arrival of the royal troops coin became less rare. \"Money is now\ncommon,\" wrote Mother Incarnation, \"these gentlemen having brought much\nof it. They pay cash for all they buy, both food and other necessaries.\"\nMoney was worth a fourth more than in France, thus fifteen cents were\nworth twenty. As a natural consequence, two currencies were established\nin New France, and the _livre tournois_ (French franc) was distinguished\nfrom the franc of the country. The Indians were dealt with by exchanges,\nand one might see them traversing the streets of Quebec, Montreal or\nThree Rivers, offering from house to house rich furs, which they\nbartered for blankets, powder, lead, but above all, for that accursed\nfirewater which caused such havoc among them, and such interminable\ndisputes between the civil and the religious power. Intoxicating liquors\nwere the source of many disorders, and we cannot too much regret that\nthis stain rested upon the glory of New France. Yet such a society,\nsituated in what was undeniably a difficult position, could not be\nexpected to escape every imperfection.\n\nThe activity and the intelligence of Mgr. de Laval made themselves felt\nin every beneficent and progressive work. He could not remain\nindifferent to the education of his flock; we find him as zealous for\nthe progress of primary education as for the development of his two\nseminaries or his school at St. Joachim. Primary instruction was given\nfirst by the good Recollets at Quebec, at Tadousac and at Three Rivers.\nThe Jesuits replaced them, and were able, thanks to the munificence of\nthe son of the Marquis de Gamache, to add a college to their elementary\nschool at Quebec. At Ville-Marie the Sulpicians, with never-failing\nabnegation, not content with the toil of their ministry, lent themselves\nto the arduous task of teaching; the venerable superior himself, M.\nSouart, took the modest title of headmaster. From a healthy bud issues a\nfine fruit: just as the smaller seminary of Quebec gave birth to the\nLaval University, so from the school of M. Souart sprang in 1733 the\nCollege of Montreal, transferred forty years later to the Chateau\nVaudreuil, on Jacques Cartier Square; then to College Street, now St.\nPaul Street. The college rises to-day on an admirable site on the \nof the mountain; the main seminary, which adjoins it, seems to dominate\nthe city stretched at its feet, as the two sister sciences taught\nthere, theology and philosophy, dominate by their importance the other\nbranches of human knowledge.\n\nM. de Fenelon, who was already devoted to the conversion of the savages\nin the famous mission of Montreal mountain, gave the rest of his time to\nthe training of the young Iroquois; he gathered them in a school erected\nby his efforts near Pointe Claire, on the Dorval Islands, which he had\nreceived from M. de Frontenac. Later on the Brothers Charron established\na house at Montreal with a double purpose of charity: to care for the\npoor and the sick, and to train men in order to send them to open\nschools in the country district. This institution, in spite of the\nenthusiasm of its founders, did not succeed, and became extinct about\nthe middle of the eighteenth century. Finally, in 1838, Canada greeted\nwith joy the arrival of the sons of the blessed Jean Baptiste de la\nSalle, the Brothers of the Christian Doctrine, so well known throughout\nthe world for their modesty and success in teaching.\n\nThe girls of the colony were no less well looked after than the boys; at\nQuebec, the Ursuline nuns, established in that city by Madame de la\nPeltrie, trained them for the future irreproachable mothers of families.\nThe attempts made to Gallicize the young savages met with no success in\nthe case of the boys, but were better rewarded by the young Indian\ngirls. \"We have Gallicized,\" writes Mother Mary of the Incarnation, \"a\nnumber of Indian girls, both Hurons and Algonquins, whom we subsequently\nmarried to Frenchmen, who get along with them very well. There is one\namong them who reads and writes to perfection, both in her native Huron\ntongue and in French; no one can discern or believe that she was born a\nsavage. The commissioner was so delighted at this that he induced her to\nwrite for him something in the two languages, in order to take it to\nFrance and show it as an extraordinary production.\" Further on she adds,\n\"It is a very difficult thing, not to say impossible, to Gallicize or\ncivilize them. We have more experience in this than any one else, and we\nhave observed that of a hundred who have passed through our hands we\nhave hardly civilized one. We find in them docility and intelligence,\nbut when we least expect it, they climb over our fence and go off to run\nthe woods with their parents, where they find more pleasure than in all\nthe comforts of our French houses.\"\n\nAt Montreal it was the venerable Marguerite Bourgeoys who began to teach\nin a poor hovel the rudiments of the French tongue. This humble school\nwas transformed a little more than two centuries later into one of the\nmost vast and imposing edifices of the city of Montreal. Fire destroyed\nit in 1893, but we must hope that this majestic monument of Ville-Marie\nwill soon rise again from its ruins to become the centre of operations\nof the numerous educational institutions of the Congregation of\nNotre-Dame which cover our country. M. l'abbe Verreau, the much\nregretted principal of the Jacques Cartier Normal School, appreciates in\nthese terms the services rendered to education by Mother Bourgeoys, a\nwoman eminent from all points of view: \"The Congregation of Notre-Dame,\"\nsays he, \"is a truly national institution, whose ramifications extend\nbeyond the limits of Canada. Marguerite Bourgeoys took in hand the\neducation of the women of the people, the basis of society. She taught\nyoung women to become what they ought to be, especially at this period,\nwomen full of moral force, of modesty, of courage in the face of the\ndangers in the midst of which they lived. If the French-Canadians have\npreserved a certain character of politeness and urbanity, which\nstrangers are not slow in admitting, they owe it in a great measure to\nthe work of Marguerite Bourgeoys.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nBECOMES BISHOP OF QUEBEC\n\n\nThe creation of a bishopric in Canada was becoming necessary, and all\nwas ready for the erection of a separate see. Mgr. de Laval had thought\nof everything: the two seminaries with the resources indispensable for\ntheir maintenance, cathedral, parishes or missions regularly\nestablished, institutions of education or charity, numerous schools, a\nzealous and devoted clergy, respected both by the government of the\ncolony and by that of the mother country. What more could be desired? He\nhad many struggles to endure in order to obtain this creation, but\npatience and perseverance never failed him, and like the drop of water\nwhich, falling incessantly upon the pavement, finally wears away the\nstone, his reasonable and ever repeated demands eventually overcame the\nobstinacy of the king. Not, however, until 1674 was he definitely\nappointed Bishop of Quebec, and could enjoy without opposition a title\nwhich had belonged to him so long in reality; this was, as it were, the\nfinal consecration of his life and the crowning of his efforts. Upon the\nnews of this the joy of the people and of the clergy rose to its height:\nthe future of the Canadian Church was assured, and she would inscribe\nin her annals a name dear to all and soon to be glorified.\n\nShall we, then, suppose that this pontiff was indeed ambitious, who,\ncoming in early youth to wield his pastoral crozier upon the banks of\nthe St. Lawrence, did not fear the responsibility of so lofty a task?\nThe assumption would be quite unjustified. Rather let us think of him as\nmeditating on this text of St. Paul: \"_Oportet episcopum\nirreprehensibilem esse_,\" the bishop must be irreproachable in his\nhouse, his relations, his speech and even his silence. His past career\nguaranteed his possession of that admixture of strength and gentleness,\nof authority and condescension in which lies the great art of governing\nmen. Moreover, one thing reassured him, his knowledge that the crown of\na bishop is often a crown of thorns. When the apostle St. Paul outlined\nfor his disciple the main features of the episcopal character, he spoke\nnot alone for the immediate successors of the apostles, but for all\nthose who in the succession of ages should be honoured by the same\ndignity. No doubt the difficulties would be often less, persecution\nmight even cease entirely, but trial would continue always, because it\nis the condition of the Church as well as that of individuals. The\nprelate himself explains to us the very serious reasons which led him to\ninsist on obtaining the title of Bishop of Quebec. He writes in these\nterms to the Propaganda: \"I have never till now sought the episcopacy,\nand I have accepted it in spite of myself, convinced of my weakness.\nBut, having borne its burden, I shall consider it a boon to be relieved\nof it, though I do not refuse to sacrifice myself for the Church of\nJesus Christ and for the welfare of souls. I have, however, learned by\nlong experience how unguarded is the position of an apostolic vicar\nagainst those who are entrusted with political affairs, I mean the\nofficers of the court, perpetual rivals and despisers of the\necclesiastical power, who have nothing more common to object than that\nthe authority of the apostolic vicar is doubtful and should be\nrestricted within certain limits. This is why, after having maturely\nconsidered everything, I have resolved to resign this function and to\nreturn no more to New France unless a see be erected there, and unless I\nbe provided and furnished with bulls constituting me its occupant. Such\nis the purpose of my journey to France and the object of my desires.\"\n\nAs early as the year 1662, at the time of his first journey to France,\nthe Bishop of Petraea had obtained from Louis XIV the assurance that this\nprince would petition the sovereign pontiff for the erection of the see\nof Quebec; moreover, the monarch had at the same time assigned to the\nfuture bishopric the revenues of the abbey of Maubec. The king kept his\nword, for on June 28th, 1664, he addressed to the common Father of the\nfaithful the following letter: \"The choice made by your Holiness of the\nperson of the Sieur de Laval, Bishop of Petraea, to go in the capacity\nof apostolic vicar to exercise episcopal functions in Canada has been\nattended by many advantages to this growing Church. We have reason to\nexpect still greater results if it please your Holiness to permit him to\ncontinue there the same functions in the capacity of bishop of the\nplace, by establishing for this purpose an episcopal see in Quebec; and\nwe hope that your Holiness will be the more inclined to this since we\nhave already provided for the maintenance of the bishop and his canons\nby consenting to the perpetual union of the abbey of Maubec with the\nfuture bishopric. This is why we beg you to grant to the Bishop of\nPetraea the title of Bishop of Quebec upon our nomination and prayer,\nwith power to exercise in this capacity the episcopal functions in all\nCanada.\"\n\nHowever, the appointment was not consummated; the Propaganda, indeed,\ndecided in a rescript of December 15th, 1666, that it was necessary to\nmake of Quebec a see, whose occupant should be appointed by the king;\nthe Consistorial Congregation of Rome promulgated a new decree with the\nsame purpose on October 9th, 1670, and yet Mgr. de Laval still remained\nBishop of Petraea. This was because the eternal question of jurisdiction\nas between the civil and religious powers, the question which did so\nmuch harm to Catholicism in France, in England, in Italy, and especially\nin Germany, was again being revived. The King of France demanded that\nthe new diocese should be dependent upon the Metropolitan of Rouen,\nwhile the pontifical government, of which its providential role requires\nalways a breadth of view, and, so to speak, a foreknowledge of events\nimpossible to any nation, desired the new diocese to be an immediate\ndependency of the Holy See. \"We must confess here,\" says the Abbe\nFerland, \"that the sight of the sovereign pontiff reached much farther\ninto the future than that of the great king. Louis XIV was concerned\nwith the kingdom of France; Clement X thought of the interests of the\nwhole Catholic world. The little French colony was growing; separated\nfrom the mother country by the ocean, it might be wrested from France by\nEngland, which was already so powerful in America; what, then, would\nbecome of the Church of Quebec if it had been wont to lean upon that of\nRouen and to depend upon it? It was better to establish at once\nimmediate relations between the Bishop of Quebec and the supreme head of\nthe Catholic Church; it was better to establish bonds which could be\nbroken neither by time nor force, and Quebec might thus become one day\nthe metropolis of the dioceses which should spring from its bosom.\"\n\nThe opposition to the views of Mgr. de Laval did not come, however, so\nmuch from the king as from Mgr. de Harlay, Archbishop of Rouen, who had\nnever consented to the detachment of Canada from his jurisdiction.\nEvents turned out fortunately for the apostolic vicar, since the\nArchbishop of Rouen was called to the important see of Paris on the\ndeath of the Archbishop of Paris, Hardouin de Perefixe de Beaumont, in\nthe very year in which Mgr. de Laval embarked for France, accompanied by\nhis grand vicar, M. de Lauson-Charny. The task now became much easier,\nand Laval had no difficulty in inducing the king to urge the erection of\nthe diocese at Quebec, and to abandon his claims to making the new\ndiocese dependent on the archbishopric of Rouen.\n\nBefore leaving Canada the Bishop of Quebec had entrusted the\nadministration of the apostolic vicariate to M. de Bernieres, and, in\ncase of the latter's death, to M. Dudouyt. He embarked in the autumn of\n1671.\n\nTo the keen regret of the population of Ville-Marie, which owed him so\nmuch, M. de Queylus, Abbe de Loc-Dieu and superior of the Seminary of\nMontreal for the last three years, went to France at the same time as\nhis ecclesiastical superior. \"M. l'abbe de Queylus,\" wrote Commissioner\nTalon to the Minister Colbert, \"is making an urgent application for the\nsettlement and increase of the colony of Montreal. He carries his zeal\nfarther, for he is going to take charge of the Indian children who fall\ninto the hands of the Iroquois, in order to have them educated, the boys\nin his seminary, and the girls by persons of the same sex, who form at\nMontreal a sort of congregation to teach young girls the petty\nhandicrafts, in addition to reading and writing.\" M. de Queylus had used\nhis great fortune in all sorts of good works in the colony, but he was\nnot the only Sulpician whose hand was always ready and willing. Before\ndying, M. Olier had begged his successors to continue the work at\nVille-Marie, \"because,\" said he, \"it is the will of God,\" and the\npriests of St. Sulpice received this injunction as one of the most\nsacred codicils of the will of their Father. However onerous the\ncontinuation of this plan was for the company, the latter sacrificed to\nit without hesitation its resources, its efforts and its members with\nthe most complete abnegation.[6] Thus when, on March 9th, 1663, the\nCompany of Montreal believed itself no longer capable of meeting its\nobligations, and begged St. Sulpice to take them up, the seminary\nsubordinated all considerations of self-interest and human prudence to\nthis view. To this MM. de Bretonvilliers, de Queylus and du Bois devoted\ntheir fortunes, and to this work of the conversion of the savages\npriests distinguished in birth and riches gave up their whole lives and\nproperty. M. de Belmont discharged the hundred and twenty thousand\nfrancs of debts of the Company of Montreal, gave as much more to the\nestablishment of divers works, and left more than two hundred thousand\nfrancs of his patrimony to support them after his death. How many\nothers did likewise! During more than fifty years Paris sent to this\nmission only priests able to pay their board, that they might have the\nright to share in this evangelization. This disinterestedness, unheard\nof in the history of the most unselfish congregations, saved, sustained\nand finally developed this settlement, to which Roman Catholics point\nto-day with pride. The Seminary of Paris contributed to it a sum equal\nto twice the value of the island, and during the first sixty years more\nthan nine hundred thousand francs, as one may see by the archives of the\nDepartment of Marine at Paris. These sums to-day would represent a large\nfortune.\n\nFinally the prayers of Mgr. de Laval were heard; Pope Clement X signed\non October 1st, 1674, the bulls establishing the diocese of Quebec,\nwhich was to extend over all the French possessions in North America.\nThe sovereign pontiff incorporated with the new bishopric for its\nmaintenance the abbey of Maubec, given by the King of France already in\n1662, and in exchange for the renunciation by this prince of his right\nof presentation to the abbey of Maubec, granted him the right of\nnomination to the bishopric of Quebec. To his first gift the king had\nadded a second, that of the abbey of Lestrees. Situated in Normandy and\nin the archdeaconry of Evreux, this abbey was one of the oldest of the\norder of Citeaux.\n\nUp to this time the venerable bishop had had many difficulties to\nsurmount; he was about to meet some of another sort, those of the\nadministration of vast properties. The abbey of Maubec, occupied by\nmonks of the order of St. Benedict, was situated in one of the fairest\nprovinces of France, Le Perry, and was dependent upon the archdiocese of\nBourges. Famous vineyards, verdant meadows, well cultivated fields, rich\nfarms, forests full of game and ponds full of fish made this abbey an\nadmirable domain; unfortunately, the expenses of maintaining or\nrepairing the buildings, the dues payable to the government, the\nallowances secured to the monks, and above all, the waste and theft\nwhich must necessarily victimize proprietors separated from their\ntenants by the whole breadth of an ocean, must absorb a great part of\nthe revenues. Letters of the steward of this property to the Bishop of\nQuebec are instructive in this matter. \"M. Porcheron is still the same,\"\nwrites the steward, M. Matberon, \"and bears me a grudge because I desire\nto safeguard your interests. I am incessantly carrying on the work of\nneedful repairs in all the places dependent on Maubec, chiefly those\nnecessary to the ponds, in order that M. Porcheron may have no damages\nagainst you. This is much against his will, for he is constantly seeking\nan excuse for litigation. He swears that he does not want your farm any\nlonger, but as for me, I believe that this is not his feeling, and that\nhe would wish the farm out of the question, for he is too fond of\nhunting and his pleasure to quit it.... He does his utmost to remove me\nfrom your service, insinuating many things against me which are not\ntrue; but this does not lessen my zeal in serving you.\"\n\nMgr. de Laval, who did not hesitate at any exertion when it was a\nquestion of the interests of his Church, did not fail to go and visit\nhis two abbeys. He set out, happy in the prospect of being able to\nadmire these magnificent properties whose rich revenues would permit him\nto do so much good in his diocese; but he was painfully affected at the\nsight of the buildings in ruins, sad relics of the wars of religion. In\norder to free himself as much as possible from cares which would have\nencroached too much upon his precious time and his pastoral duties,\nLaval caused a manager to be appointed by the Royal Council for the\nabbey of Lestrees, and rented it for a fixed sum to M. Berthelot. He\nalso made with the latter a very advantageous transaction by exchanging\nwith him the Island of Orleans for the Ile Jesus; M. Berthelot was to\ngive him besides a sum of twenty-five thousand francs, which was\nemployed in building the seminary. Later the king made the Island of\nOrleans a county. It became the county of St. Lawrence.\n\nMgr. de Laval was too well endowed with qualities of the heart, as well\nas with those of the mind, not to have preserved a deep affection for\nhis family; he did not fail to go and see them twice during his stay in\nFrance. Unhappily, his brother, Jean-Louis, to whom he had yielded all\nhis rights as eldest son, and his titles to the hereditary lordship of\nMontigny and Montbeaudry, caused only grief to his family and to his\nwife, Francoise de Chevestre. As lavish as he was violent and\nhot-tempered, he reduced by his excesses his numerous family (for he had\nhad ten children), to such poverty that the Bishop of Quebec had to come\nto his aid; besides the assistance which he sent them, the prelate\nbought him a house. He extended his protection also to his nephews, and\nhis brother, Henri de Laval, wrote to him about them as follows: \"The\neldest is developing a little; he is in the army with the king, and his\nfather has given him a good start. I have obtained from my petitions\nfrom Paris a place as monk in the Congregation of the Cross for his\nsecond son, whom I shall try to have reared in the knowledge and fear of\nGod. I believe that the youngest, who has been sent to you, will have\ncome to the right place; he is of good promise. My brother desires\ngreatly that you may have the goodness to give Fanchon the advantage of\nan education before sending him back. It is a great charity to these\npoor children to give them a little training. You will be a father to\nthem in this matter.\" One never applied in vain to the heart of the good\nbishop. Two of his nephews owed him their education at the seminary of\nQuebec; one of them, Fanchon (Charles-Francois-Guy), after a brilliant\ncourse in theology at Paris, became vicar-general to the Swan of\nCambrai, the illustrious Fenelon, and was later raised to the bishopric\nof Ypres.\n\nMeanwhile, four years had elapsed since Mgr. de Laval had left the soil\nof Canada, and he did not cease to receive letters which begged him\nrespectfully to return to his diocese. \"Nothing is lacking to animate us\nbut the presence of our lord bishop,\" wrote, one day, Father Dablon.\n\"His absence keeps this country, as it were, in mourning, and makes us\nlanguish in the too long separation from a person so necessary to these\ngrowing churches. He was the soul of them, and the zeal which he showed\non every occasion for the welfare of our Indians drew upon us favours of\nHeaven most powerful for the success of our missions; and since, however\ndistant he be in the body, his heart is ever with us, we experience the\neffects of it in the continuity of the blessings with which God favours\nthe labours of our missionaries.\" Accordingly, he did not lose a moment\nafter receiving the decrees appointing him Bishop of Quebec. On May\n19th, 1675, he renewed the union of his seminary with that of the\nForeign Missions in Paris. \"This union,\" says the Abbe Ferland, \"a union\nwhich he had effected for the first time in 1665 as apostolic bishop of\nNew France, was of great importance to his diocese. He found, indeed, in\nthis institution, good recruits, who were sent to him when needed, and\nfaithful correspondents, whom he could address with confidence, and who\nhad sufficient influence at court to gain a hearing for their\nrepresentations in favour of the Church in Canada.\" On May 29th of the\nsame year he set sail for Canada; he was accompanied by a priest, a\nnative of the city of Orleans, M. Glandelet, who was one of the most\ndistinguished priests of the seminary.\n\nTo understand with what joy he was received by his parishioners on his\narrival, it is enough to read what his brother, Henri de Laval, wrote to\nhim the following year: \"I cannot express to you the satisfaction and\ninward joy which I have received in my soul on reading a report sent\nfrom Canada of the manner in which your clergy and all your people have\nreceived you, and that our Lord inspires them all with just and true\nsentiments to recognize you as their father and pastor. They testify to\nhaving received through your beloved person as it were a new life. I ask\nour Lord every day at His holy altars to preserve you some years more\nfor the sanctification of these poor people and our own.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[6] _Vie de M. Olier_, par De Lanjuere. As I wrote this life some years\nago with the collaboration of a gentleman whom death has taken from us,\nI believe myself entitled to reproduce here and there in the present\nlife of Mgr. de Laval extracts from this book.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nFRONTENAC IS APPOINTED GOVERNOR\n\n\nDuring the early days of the absence of its first pastor, the Church of\nCanada had enjoyed only days of prosperity; skilfully directed by MM. de\nBernieres and de Dudouyt, who scrupulously followed the line of conduct\nlaid down for them by Mgr. de Laval before his departure, it was\npursuing its destiny peacefully. But this calm, forerunner of the storm,\ncould not last; it was the destiny of the Church, as it had been the lot\nof nations, to be tossed incessantly by the violent winds of trial and\npersecution. The difficulties which arose soon reached the acute stage,\nand all the firmness and tact of the Bishop of Quebec were needed to\nmeet them. The departure of Laval for France in the autumn of 1671 had\nbeen closely followed by that of Governor de Courcelles and that of\nCommissioner Talon. The latter was not replaced until three years later,\nso that the new governor, Count de Frontenac, who arrived in the autumn\nof 1672, had no one at his side in the Sovereign Council to oppose his\nviews. This was allowing too free play to the natural despotism of his\ncharacter. Louis de Buade, Count de Palluau and de Frontenac,\nlieutenant-general of the king's armies, had previously served in\nHolland under the illustrious Maurice, Prince of Orange, then in France,\nItaly and Germany, and his merit had gained for him the reputation of a\ngreat captain. The illustrious Turenne entrusted to him the command of\nthe reinforcements sent to Candia when that island was besieged by the\nTurks. He had a keen mind, trained by serious study; haughty towards the\npowerful of this world, he was affable to ordinary people, and thus made\nfor himself numerous enemies, while remaining very popular. Father\nCharlevoix has drawn an excellent portrait of him: \"His heart was\ngreater than his birth, his wit lively, penetrating, sound, fertile and\nhighly cultivated: but he was biased by the most unjust prejudices, and\ncapable of carrying them very far. He wished to rule alone, and there\nwas nothing he would not do to remove those whom he was afraid of\nfinding in his way. His worth and ability were equal; no one knew better\nhow to assume over the people whom he governed and with whom he had to\ndeal, that ascendency so necessary to keep them in the paths of duty and\nrespect. He won when he wished it the friendship of the French and their\nallies, and never has general treated his enemies with more dignity and\nnobility. His views for the aggrandizement of the colony were large and\ntrue, but his prejudices sometimes prevented the execution of plans\nwhich depended on him.... He justified, in one of the most critical\ncircumstances of his life, the opinion that his ambition and the desire\nof preserving his authority had more power over him than his zeal for\nthe public good. The fact is that there is no virtue which does not\nbelie itself when one has allowed a dominant passion to gain the upper\nhand. The Count de Frontenac might have been a great prince if Heaven\nhad placed him on the throne, but he had dangerous faults for a subject\nwho is not well persuaded that his glory consists in sacrificing\neverything to the service of his sovereign and the public utility.\"\n\nIt was under the administration of Frontenac that the Compagnie des\nIndes Occidentales, which had accepted in 1663 a portion of the\nobligations and privileges of the Company of the Cent-Associes,\nrenounced its rights over New France. Immediately after his arrival he\nbegan the construction of Fort Cataraqui; if we are to believe some\nhistorians, motives of personal interest guided him in the execution of\nthis enterprise; he thought only, it seems, of founding considerable\nposts for the fur trade, favouring those traders who would consent to\ngive him a share in their profits. The work was urged on with energy. La\nSalle obtained from the king, thanks to the support of Frontenac,\nletters patent of nobility, together with the ownership and jurisdiction\nof the new fort.\n\nWith the approval of the governor, Commissioner Talon's plan of having\nthe course of the Mississippi explored was executed by two bold men:\nLouis Joliet, citizen of Quebec, already known for previous voyages and\nfor his deep knowledge of the Indian tongues, and the devoted\nmissionary, Father Marquette. Without other provisions than Indian corn\nand dried meat they set out in two bark canoes from Michilimackinac on\nMay 17th, 1673; only five Frenchmen accompanied them. They reached the\nMississippi, after having passed the Baie des Puants and the rivers\nOutagami and Wisconsin, and ascended the stream for more than sixty\nleagues. They were cordially received by the tribe of the Illinois,\nwhich was encamped not far from the river, and Father Marquette promised\nto return and visit them. The two travellers reached the Arkansas River\nand learned that the sea was not far distant, but fearing they might\nfall into the hands of hostile Spaniards, they decided to retrace their\nsteps, and reached the Baie des Puants about the end of September.\n\nThe following year Father Marquette wished to keep his promise given to\nthe Illinois. His health is weakened by the trials of a long mission,\nbut what matters this to him? There are souls to save. He preaches the\ntruths of religion to the poor savages gathered in attentive silence;\nbut his strength diminishes, and he regretfully resumes the road to\nMichilimackinac. He did not have time to reach it, but died near the\nmouth of a river which long bore his name. His two comrades dug a grave\nfor the remains of the missionary and raised a cross near the tomb. Two\nyears later these sacred bones were transferred with the greatest\nrespect to St. Ignace de Michilimackinac by the savage tribe of the\nKiskakons, whom Father Marquette had christianized.\n\nWith such an adventurous character as he possessed, Cavelier de la Salle\ncould not learn of the exploration of the course of the Upper\nMississippi without burning with the desire to complete the discovery\nand to descend the river to its mouth. Robert Rene Cavelier de la Salle\nwas born at Rouen about the year 1644. He belonged to an excellent\nfamily, and was well educated. From his earliest years he was\npassionately fond of stories of travel, and the older he grew the more\ncramped he felt in the civilization of Europe; like the mettled mustang\nof the vast prairies of America, he longed for the immensity of unknown\nplains, for the imposing majesty of forests which the foot of man had\nnot yet trod. Maturity and reason gave a more definite aim to these\naspirations; at the age of twenty-four he came to New France to try his\nfortune. He entered into relations with different Indian tribes, and the\nextent of his commerce led him to establish a trading-post opposite the\nSault St. Louis. This site, as we shall see, received soon after the\nname of Lachine. Though settled at this spot, La Salle did not cease to\nmeditate on the plan fixed in his brain of discovering a passage to\nChina and the Indies, and upon learning the news that MM. Dollier de\nCasson and Gallinee were going to christianize the wild tribes of\nsouth-western Canada, he hastened to rejoin the two devoted\nmissionaries. They set out in the summer of 1669, with twenty-two\nFrenchmen. Arriving at Niagara, La Salle suddenly changed his mind, and\nabandoned his travelling companions, under the pretext of illness. No\nmore was needed for the Frenchman, _ne malin_,[7] to fix upon the\nseigniory of the future discoverer of the mouth of the Mississippi the\nname of Lachine; M. Dollier de Casson is suspected of being the author\nof this gentle irony.\n\nEight years later the explorations of Joliet and Father Marquette\nrevived his instincts as a discoverer; he betook himself to France in\n1677 and easily obtained authority to pursue, at his own expense, the\ndiscovery already begun. Back in Canada the following year, La Salle\nthoroughly prepared for this expedition, accumulating provisions at Fort\nNiagara, and visiting the Indian tribes. In 1679, accompanied by the\nChevalier de Tonti, he set out at the head of a small troop, and passed\nthrough Michilimackinac, then through the Baie des Puants. From there he\nreached the Miami River, where he erected a small fort, ascended the\nIllinois, and, reaching a camp of the Illinois Indians, made an alliance\nwith this tribe, obtaining from them permission to erect upon their soil\na fort which he called Crevecoeur. He left M. de Tonti there with a few\nmen and two Recollet missionaries, Fathers de la Ribourde and Membre,\nand set out again with all haste for Fort Frontenac, for he was very\nanxious regarding the condition of his own affairs. He had reason to be.\n\"His creditors,\" says the Abbe Ferland, \"had had his goods seized after\nhis departure from Fort Frontenac; his brigantine _Le Griffon_ had been\nlost, with furs valued at thirty thousand francs; his employees had\nappropriated his goods; a ship which was bringing him from France a\ncargo valued at twenty-two thousand francs had been wrecked on the\nIslands of St. Pierre; some canoes laden with merchandise had been\ndashed to pieces on the journey between Montreal and Frontenac; the men\nwhom he had brought from France had fled to New York, taking a portion\nof his goods, and already a conspiracy was on foot to disaffect the\nCanadians in his service. In one word, according to him, the whole of\nCanada had conspired against his enterprise, and the Count de Frontenac\nwas the only one who consented to support him in the midst of his\nmisfortunes.\" His remarkable energy and activity remedied this host of\nevils, and he set out again for Fort Crevecoeur. To cap the climax of\nhis misfortunes, he found it abandoned; being attacked by the Iroquois,\nwhom the English had aroused against them, Tonti and his comrades had\nbeen forced to hasty flight. De la Salle found them again at\nMichilimackinac, but he had the sorrow of learning of the loss of\nFather de la Ribourde, whom the Illinois had massacred. Tonti and his\ncompanions, in their flight, had been obliged to abandon an unsafe\ncanoe, which had carried them half-way, and to continue their journey on\nfoot. Such a series of misfortunes would have discouraged any other than\nLa Salle; on the contrary, he made Tonti and Father Membre retrace their\nsteps. Arriving with them at the Miami fort, he reinforced his little\ntroop by twenty-three Frenchmen and eighteen Indians, and reached Fort\nCrevecoeur. On February 6th, 1682, he reached the mouth of the Illinois,\nand then descended the Mississippi. Towards the end of this same month\nthe bold explorers stopped at the juncture of the Ohio with the Father\nof Rivers, and erected there Fort Prudhomme. On what is Fame dependent?\nA poor and unknown man, a modest collaborator with La Salle, had the\nhonour of giving his name to this little fort because he had been lost\nin the neighbourhood and had reached camp nine days later.\n\nProvidence was finally about to reward so much bravery and perseverance.\nThe sailor who from the yards of Christopher Columbus's caravel, uttered\nthe triumphant cry of \"Land! land!\" did not cause more joy to the\nillustrious Genoese navigator than La Salle received from the sight of\nthe sea so ardently sought. On April 9th La Salle and his comrades could\nat length admire the immense blue sheet of the Gulf of Mexico. Like\nChristopher Columbus, who made it his first duty on touching the soil of\nthe New World to fall upon his knees to return thanks to Heaven, La\nSalle's first business was to raise a cross upon the shore. Father\nMembre intoned the Te Deum. They then raised the arms of the King of\nFrance, in whose name La Salle took possession of the Mississippi, and\nof all the territories watered by the tributaries of the great river.\n\nTheir trials were not over: the risks to be run in traversing so many\nregions inhabited by barbarians were as great and as numerous after\nsuccess as before. La Salle was, moreover, delayed for forty days by a\nserious illness, but God in His goodness did not wish to deprive the\nvaliant discoverers of the fruits of their efforts, and all arrived safe\nand sound at the place whence they had started. After having passed a\nyear in establishing trading-posts among the Illinois, La Salle\nappointed M. de Tonti his representative for the time being, and betook\nhimself to France with the intention of giving an account of his journey\nto the most Christian monarch. His enemies had already forestalled him\nat the court; we have to seek the real cause of this hatred in the\njealousy of traders who feared to find in the future colonists of the\nwestern and southern country competitors in their traffic. But far from\nlistening to them, the son of Colbert, Seignelay, then minister of\ncommerce, highly praised the valiant explorer, and sent, in 1684, four\nships with two hundred and eighty colonists to people Louisiana, this\nnew gem in the crown of France. But La Salle has not yet finally drained\nthe cup of disappointment, for few men have been so overwhelmed as he by\nthe persistence of ill-fortune. It was not enough that the leader of the\nexpedition should be incapable, the colonists must needs be of a\ncontinual evil character, the soldiers undisciplined, the workmen\nunskilful, the pilot ignorant. They pass the mouth of the Mississippi,\nnear which they should have disembarked, and arrive in Texas; the\ncommander refuses to send the ship about, and La Salle makes up his mind\nto land where they are. Through the neglect of the pilot, the vessel\nwhich was carrying the provisions is cast ashore, then a gale arises\nwhich swallows up the tools, the merchandise and the ammunition. The\nIndians, like birds of prey, hasten up to pillage, and massacre two\nvolunteers. The colonists in exasperation revolt, and stupidly blame La\nSalle. He saves them, nevertheless, by his energy, and makes them raise\na fort with the wreck of the ships. They pass two years there in a\nfamine of everything; twice La Salle tries to find, at the cost of a\nthousand sufferings, a way of rescue, and twice he fails. Finally, when\nthere remain no more than thirty men, he chooses the ten most resolute,\nand tries to reach Canada on foot. He did not reach it: on May 20th,\n1687, he was murdered by one of his comrades. \"Such was the end of this\ndaring adventurer,\" says Bancroft.[8] \"For force of will, and vast\nconceptions; for various knowledge and quick adaptation of his genius to\nuntried circumstances; for a sublime magnanimity that resigned itself to\nthe will of Heaven and yet triumphed over affliction by energy of\npurpose and unfaltering hope, he had no superior among his\ncountrymen.... He will be remembered in the great central valley of the\nWest.\"\n\nIt was with deep feelings of joy that Mgr. de Laval, still in France at\nthis period, had read the detailed report of the voyage of discovery\nmade by Joliet and Father Marquette. But the news which he received from\nCanada was not always so comforting; he felt especially deeply the loss\nof two great benefactresses of Canada, Madame de la Peltrie and Mother\nIncarnation. The former had used her entire fortune in founding the\nConvent of the Ursulines at Quebec. Heaven had lavished its gifts upon\nher; endowed with brilliant qualities, and adding riches to beauty, she\nwas happy in possessing these advantages only because they allowed her\nto offer them to the Most High, who had given them to her. She devoted\nherself to the Christian education of young girls, and passed in Canada\nthe last thirty-two years of her life. The Abbe Casgrain draws the\nfollowing portrait of her: \"Her whole person presented a type of\nattractiveness and gentleness. Her face, a beautiful oval, was\nremarkable for the harmony of its lines and the perfection of its\ncontour. A slightly aquiline nose, a clear cut and always smiling mouth,\na limpid look veiled by long lashes which the habit of meditation kept\nhalf lowered, stamped her features with an exquisite sweetness. Though\nher frail and delicate figure did not exceed medium height, and though\neverything about her breathed modesty and humility, her gait was\nnevertheless full of dignity and nobility; one recognized, in seeing\nher, the descendant of those great and powerful lords, of those perfect\nknights whose valiant swords had sustained throne and altar. Through the\nmost charming simplicity there were ever manifest the grand manner of\nthe seventeenth century and that perfect distinction which is\ntraditional among the families of France. But this majestic _ensemble_\nwas tempered by an air of introspection and unction which gave her\nconversation an infinite charm, and it gained her the esteem and\naffection of all those who had had the good fortune to know her.\" She\ndied on November 18th, 1671, only a few days after the departure for\nFrance of the apostolic vicar.\n\n[Illustration: The Ursuline Convent, Quebec\n\nDrawn on the spot by Richard Short, 1761]\n\nHer pious friend, Mother Mary of the Incarnation, first Mother Superior\nof the Ursulines of Quebec, soon followed her to the tomb. She expired\non April 30th, 1672. In her numerous writings on the beginnings of the\ncolony, the modesty of Mother Mary of the Incarnation has kept us in the\ndark concerning several important services rendered by her to New\nFrance, and many touching details of her life would not have reached us\nif her companion, Madame de la Peltrie, had not made them known to us.\nIn Mother Incarnation, who merited the glorious title of the Theresa of\nNew France, were found all the Christian virtues, but more particularly\npiety, patience and confidence in Providence. God was ever present and\nvisible in her heart, acting everywhere and in everything. We see, among\nmany other instances that might be quoted, a fine example of her\nenthusiasm for Heaven when, cast out of her convent in the heart of the\nwinter by a conflagration which consumed everything, she knelt upon the\nsnow with her Sisters, and thanked God for not having taken from them,\ntogether with their properties, their lives, which might be useful to\nothers.\n\nIf Madame de la Peltrie and Mother Mary of the Incarnation occupy a\nlarge place in the history of Canada, it is because the institution of\nthe Ursulines, which they founded and directed at Quebec, exercised the\nhappiest influence on the formation of the Christian families in our\ncountry. \"It was,\" says the Abbe Ferland, \"an inestimable advantage for\nthe country to receive from the schools maintained by the nuns, mothers\nof families reared in piety, familiar with their religious duties, and\ncapable of training the hearts and minds of the new generation.\" It was\nthanks to the efforts of Madame de la Peltrie, and to the lessons of\nMother Incarnation and her first co-workers, that those patriarchal\nfamilies whose type still persists in our time, were formed in the early\ndays of the colony. The same services were rendered by Sister Bourgeoys\nto the government of Montreal.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[7] Allusion to a verse of the poet Boileau.\n\n[8] _History of the United States_, Vol. II., page 821.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nA TROUBLED ADMINISTRATION\n\n\nA thorough study of history and the analysis of the causes and effects\nof great historical events prove to us that frequently men endowed with\nthe noblest qualities have rendered only slight services to their\ncountry, because, blinded by the consciousness of their own worth, and\nthe certainty which they have of desiring to work only for the good of\ntheir country, they have disdained too much the advice of wise\ncounsillors. With eyes fixed upon their established purpose, they\ntrample under foot every obstacle; and every man who differs from their\nopinion is but a traitor or an imbecile: hence their lack of moderation,\ntact and prudence, and their excess of obstinacy and violence. To select\none example among a thousand, what marvellous results would have been\nattained by an _entente cordiale_ between two men like Dupleix and La\nBourdonnais.\n\nCount de Frontenac was certainly a great man: he made Canada prosperous\nin peace, glorious in war, but he made also the great mistake of aiming\nat absolutism, and of allowing himself to be guided throughout his\nadministration by unjustified prejudices against the Jesuits and the\nreligious orders. Only the Sovereign Council, the bishop and the royal\ncommissioner could have opposed his omnipotence. Now the office of\ncommissioner remained vacant for three years, the bishop stayed in\nFrance till 1675, and his grand vicar, who was to represent him in the\nhighest assembly of the colony, was never invited to take his seat\nthere. As to the council, the governor took care to constitute it of men\nwho were entirely devoted to him, and he thus made himself the arbiter\nof justice. The council, of which Peuvret de Mesnu was secretary, was at\nthis time composed of MM. Le Gardeur de Tilly, Damours, de la Tesserie,\nDupont, de Mouchy, and a substitute for the attorney-general.\n\nThe first difficulty which Frontenac met was brought about by a cause\nrather insignificant in itself, but rendered so dangerous by the\nobstinacy of those who were concerned in it that it caused a deep\ncommotion throughout the whole country. Thus a foreign body, sometimes a\nwretched little splinter buried in the flesh, may, if we allow the wound\nto be poisoned, produce the greatest disorders in the human system. We\ncannot read without admiration of the acts of bravery and daring\nfrequently accomplished by the _coureurs de bois_. We experience a\nsentiment of pride when we glance through the accounts which depict for\nus the endurance and physical vigour with which these athletes became\nendowed by dint of continual struggles with man and beast and with the\nvery elements in a climate that was as glacial in winter as it was\ntorrid in summer. We are happy to think that these brave and strong men\nbelong to our race. But in the time of Frontenac the ecclesiastical and\ncivil authorities were averse to seeing the colony lose thus the most\nvigorous part of its population. While admitting that the _coureurs de\nbois_ became stout fellows in consequence of their hard experience, just\nas the fishermen of the French shore now become robust sailors after a\nfew seasons of fishing on the Newfoundland Banks, the parallel is not\ncomplete, because the latter remain throughout their lives a valuable\nreserve for the French fleets, while the former were in great part lost\nto the colony, at a period when safety lay in numbers. If they escaped\nthe manifold dangers which they ran every day in dealing with the\nsavages in the heart of the forest, if they disdained to link themselves\nby the bond of marriage to a squaw and to settle among the redskins, the\n_coureurs de bois_ were none the less drones among their compatriots;\nthey did not make up their minds to establish themselves in places where\nthey might have become excellent farmers, until through age and\ninfirmity they were rather a burden than a support to others.\n\nTo counteract this scourge the king published in 1673, a decree which,\nunder penalty of death, forbade Frenchmen to remain more than\ntwenty-four hours in the woods without permission from the governor.\nSome Montreal officers, engaged in trade, violated this prohibition; the\nCount de Frontenac at once sent M. Bizard, lieutenant of his guards,\nwith an order to arrest them. The governor of Montreal, M. Perrot, who\nconnived with them, publicly insulted the officer entrusted with the\norders of the governor-general. Indignant at such insolence, M. de\nFrontenac had M. Perrot arrested at once, imprisoned in the Chateau St.\nLouis and judged by the Sovereign Council. Connected with M. Perrot by\nthe bonds of friendship, the Abbe de Fenelon profited by the occasion to\nallude, in the sermon which he delivered in the parochial church of\nMontreal on Easter Sunday, to the excessive labour which M. de Frontenac\nhad exacted from the inhabitants of Ville-Marie for the erection of Fort\nCataraqui. According to La Salle, who heard the sermon, the Abbe de\nFenelon said: \"He who is invested with authority should not disturb the\npeople who depend on him; on the contrary, it is his duty to consider\nthem as his children and to treat them as would a father.... He must not\ndisturb the commerce of the country by ill-treating those who do not\ngive him a share of the profits they may make in it; he must content\nhimself with gaining by honest means; he must not trample on the people,\nnor vex them by excessive demands which serve his interests alone. He\nmust not have favourites who praise him on all occasions, or oppress,\nunder far-fetched pretexts, persons who serve the same princes, when\nthey oppose his enterprises.... He has respect for priests and ministers\nof the Church.\"\n\nCount de Frontenac felt himself directly aimed at; he was the more\ninclined to anger, since, the year before, he had had reasons for\ncomplaint of the sermon of a Jesuit Father. Let us allow the governor\nhimself to relate this incident: \"I had need,\" he wrote to Colbert, \"to\nremember your orders on the occasion of a sermon preached by a Jesuit\nFather this winter (1672) purposely and without need, at which he had a\nweek before invited everybody to be present. He gave expression in this\nsermon to seditious proposals against the authority of the king, which\nscandalized many, by dilating upon the restrictions made by the bishop\nof the traffic in brandy.... I was several times tempted to leave the\nchurch and to interrupt the sermon; but I eventually contented myself,\nafter it was over, with seeking out the grand vicar and the superior of\nthe Jesuits and telling them that I was much surprised at what I had\njust heard, and that I asked justice of them.... They greatly blamed the\npreacher, whose words they disavowed, attributing them, according to\ntheir custom, to an excess of zeal, and offered me many excuses, with\nwhich I condescended to seem satisfied, telling them, nevertheless, that\nI would not accept such again, and that, if the occasion ever arose, I\nwould put the preacher where he would learn how he ought to speak....\"\n\nOn the news of the words which were pronounced in the pulpit at\nVille-Marie, M. de Frontenac summoned M. de Fenelon to send him a\nverified copy of his sermon, and on the refusal of the abbe, he cited\nhim before the council. M. de Fenelon appeared, but objected to the\njurisdiction of the court, declaring that he owed an account of his\nactions to the ecclesiastical authority alone. Now the official\nauthority of the diocese was vested in the worthy M. de Bernieres, the\nrepresentative of Mgr. de Laval. The latter is summoned in his turn\nbefore the council, where the Count de Frontenac, who will not recognize\neither the authority of this official or that of the apostolic vicar,\nobjects to M. de Bernieres occupying the seat of the absent Bishop of\nPetraea. In order not to compromise his right thus contested, M. de\nBernieres replies to the questions of the council \"standing and without\ntaking any seat.\" The trial thus begun dragged along till autumn, to be\nthen referred to the court of France. The superior of St. Sulpice, M. de\nBretonvilliers, who had succeeded the venerable M. Olier, did not\napprove of the conduct of the Abbe Fenelon, for he wrote later to the\nSulpicians of Montreal: \"I exhort you to profit by the example of M. de\nFenelon. Concerning himself too much with secular affairs and with what\ndid not affect him, he has ruined his own cause and compromised the\nfriends whom he wished to serve. In matters of this sort it is always\nbest to remain neutral.\"\n\nFrontenac was about to be blamed in his turn. The governor had obtained\nfrom the council a decree ordering the king's attorney to be present\nat the rendering of accounts by the purveyor of the Quebec Seminary, and\nanother decree of March 4th, 1675, declaring that not only, as had been\ncustomary since 1668, the judges should have precedence over the\nchurchwardens in public ceremonies, but also that the latter should\nfollow all the officers of justice; at Quebec these officers should have\ntheir bench immediately behind that of the council, and in the rest of\nthe country, behind that of the local governors and the seigneurs. This\nlatter decree was posted everywhere. A missionary, M. Thomas Morel, was\naccused of having prevented its publication at Levis, and was arrested\nat once and imprisoned in the Chateau St. Louis with the clerk of the\necclesiastical court, Romain Becquet, who had refused to deliver to the\ncouncil the registers of this ecclesiastical tribune. He was kept there\na month. MM. de Bernieres and Dudouyt protested, declaring that M. Morel\nwas amenable only to the diocesan authority. We see in such an incident\nsome of the reasons which induced Laval to insist upon the immediate\nconstitution of a regular diocese. Summoned to produce forthwith the\nauthority for their pretended ecclesiastical jurisdiction, \"they\nproduced a copy of the royal declaration, dated March 27th, 1659, based\non the bulls of the Bishop of Petraea, and other documents, establishing\nincontestably the legal authority of the apostolic vicar.\" The council\nhad to yield; it restored his freedom to M. Morel, and postponed until\nlater its decision as to the validity of the claims of the\necclesiastical court.\n\nThis was a check to the ambitions of the Count de Frontenac. The\nfollowing letter from Louis XIV dealt a still more cruel blow to his\nabsolutism: \"In order to punish M. Perrot for having resisted your\nauthority,\" the prince wrote to him, \"I have had him put into the\nBastille for some time; so that when he returns to your country, not\nonly will this punishment render him more circumspect in his duty, but\nit will serve as an example to restrain others. But if I must inform you\nof my sentiments, after having thus satisfied my authority which was\nviolated in your person, I will tell you that without absolute need you\nought not to have these orders executed throughout the extent of a local\njurisdiction like Montreal without communicating with its governor.... I\nhave blamed the action of the Abbe de Fenelon, and have commanded him to\nreturn no more to Canada; but I must tell you that it was difficult to\nenter a criminal procedure against him, or to compel the priests of St.\nSulpice to bear witness against him. He should have been delivered over\nto his bishop or to the grand vicar to suffer the ecclesiastical\npenalties, or should have been arrested and sent back to France by the\nfirst ship. I have been told besides,\" added the monarch, \"that you\nwould not permit ecclesiastics and others to attend to their missions\nand other duties, or even leave their residence without a passport from\nMontreal to Quebec; that you often summoned them for very slight causes;\nthat you intercepted their letters and did not allow them liberty to\nwrite. If the whole or part of these things be true, you must mend your\nways.\" On his part Colbert enjoined upon the governor a little more\ncalmness and gentleness. \"His Majesty,\" wrote the minister, \"has ordered\nme to explain to you, privately, that it is absolutely necessary for the\ngood of your service to moderate your conduct, and not to single out\nwith too great severity faults committed either against his service or\nagainst the respect due to your person or character.\" Colbert rightly\nfelt that fault-finding letters were not sufficient to keep within\nbounds a temperament as fiery as that of the governor of Canada; on the\nother hand, a man of Frontenac's worth was too valuable to the colony to\nthink of dispensing with his services. The wisest course was to renew\nthe Sovereign Council, and in order to withdraw its members from the too\npreponderant influence of the governor, to put their nomination in the\nhands of the king.\n\nBy the royal edict of June 5th, 1675, the council was reconstituted. It\nwas composed of seven members appointed by the Crown; the\ngovernor-general occupied the first place, the bishop, or in his\nabsence, the grand vicar, the second, and the commissioner the third.\nAs the latter presided in the absence of the governor, and as the king\nwas anxious that \"he should have the same functions and the same\nprivileges as the first presidents of the courts of France,\" as moreover\nthe honour devolved upon him of collecting the opinions or votes and of\npronouncing the decrees, it was in reality the commissioner who might be\nconsidered as actual president. It is, therefore, easy to understand the\ncontinual disputes which arose upon the question of the title of\nPresident of the Council between Frontenac and the Commissioner Jacques\nDuchesneau. The latter, at first \"_President des tresoriers de la\ngeneralite de Tours_,\" had been appointed _intendant_ of New France by a\ncommission which bears the same date as the royal edict reviving the\nSovereign Council. While thinking of the material good of the colony,\nthe Most Christian King took care not to neglect its spiritual\ninterests; he undertook to provide for the maintenance of the parish\npriests and other ecclesiastics wherever necessary, and to meet in case\nof need the expenses of the divine service. In addition he expressed his\nwill \"that there should always be in the council one ecclesiastical\nmember,\" and later he added a clerical councillor to the members already\ninstalled. There were summoned to the council MM. de Villeray, de Tilly,\nDamours, Dupont, Louis Rene de Lotbiniere, de Peyras, and Denys de\nVitre. M. Denis Joseph Ruette d'Auteuil was appointed\nsolicitor-general; his functions consisted in speaking in the name of\nthe king, and in making, in the name of the prince or of the public, the\nnecessary statements. The former clerk, M. Peuvret de Mesnu, was\nretained in his functions.\n\nThe quarrels thus generated between the governor and the commissioner on\nthe question of the title of president grew so embittered that discord\ndid not cease to prevail between the two men on even the most\ninsignificant questions. Forcibly involved in these dissensions, the\nSovereign Council itself was divided into two hostile camps, and letters\nof complaint and denunciation rained upon the desk of the minister in\nFrance: on the one hand the governor was accused of receiving presents\nfrom the savages before permitting them to trade at Montreal, and was\nreproached for sending beavers to New England; on the other hand, it was\nhinted that the commissioner was interested in the business of the\nprincipal merchants of the colony. Scrupulously honest, but of a\nsomewhat stern temperament, Duchesneau could not bend to the imperious\ncharacter of Frontenac, who in his exasperation readily allowed himself\nto be impelled to arbitrary acts; thus he kept the councillor Damours in\nprison for two months for a slight cause, and banished from Quebec three\nother councillors, MM. de Villeray, de Tilly and d'Auteuil. The climax\nwas reached, and in spite of the services rendered to the country by\nthese two administrators, the king decided to recall them both in 1682.\nCount de Frontenac was replaced as governor by M. Lefebvre de la Barre,\nand M. Duchesneau by M. de Meulles.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHIRD VOYAGE TO FRANCE\n\n\nDisembarking in the year 1675 on that soil where as apostolic vicar he\nhad already accomplished so much good, giving his episcopal benediction\nto that Christian throng who came to sing the Te Deum to thank God for\nthe happy return of their first pastor, casting his eyes upon that manly\nand imposing figure of one of the most illustrious lieutenants of the\ngreat king, the Count de Frontenac, what could be the thoughts of Mgr.\nde Laval? He could not deceive himself: the letters received from Canada\nproved to him too clearly that the friction between the civil powers and\nreligious authorities would be continued under a governor of\nuncompromising and imperious character. With what fervour must he have\nasked of Heaven the tact, the prudence and the patience so necessary in\nsuch delicate circumstances!\n\nTwo questions, especially, divided the governor and the bishop: that of\nthe permanence of livings, and the everlasting matter of the sale of\nbrandy to the savages, a question which, like the phoenix, was\ncontinually reborn from its ashes. \"The prelate,\" says the Abbe\nGosselin, \"desired to establish parishes wherever they were necessary,\nand procure for them good and zealous missionaries, and, as far as\npossible, priests residing in each district, but removable and attached\nto the seminary, which received the tithes and furnished them with all\nthey had need of. But Frontenac found that this system left the priests\ntoo dependent on the bishop, and that the clergy thus closely connected\nwith the bishop and the seminary, was too formidable and too powerful a\nbody. It was with the purpose of weakening it and of rendering it, by\nthe aid which it would require, more dependent on the civil authority,\nthat he undertook that campaign for permanent livings which ended in the\noverthrow of Mgr. de Laval's system.\"\n\nColbert, in fact, was too strongly prejudiced against the clergy of\nCanada by the reports of Talon and Frontenac. These three men were\nwholly devoted to the interests of France as well as to those of the\ncolony, but they judged things only from a purely human point of view.\n\"I see,\" Colbert wrote in 1677 to Commissioner Duchesneau, \"that the\nCount de Frontenac is of the opinion that the trade with the savages in\ndrinks, called in that country intoxicating, does not cause the great\nand terrible evils to which Mgr. de Quebec takes exception, and even\nthat it is necessary for commerce; and I see that you are of an opinion\ncontrary to this. In this matter, before taking sides with the bishop,\nyou should enquire very exactly as to the number of murders,\nassassinations, cases of arson, and other excesses caused by brandy ...\nand send me the proof of this. If these deeds had been continual, His\nMajesty would have issued a most severe and vigorous prohibition to all\nhis subjects against engaging in this traffic. But, in the absence of\nthis proof, and seeing, moreover, the contrary in the evidence and\nreports of those that have been longest in this country, it is not just,\nand the general policy of a state opposes in this the feelings of a\nbishop who, to prevent the abuses that a small number of private\nindividuals may make of a thing good in itself, wishes to abolish trade\nin an article which greatly serves to attract commerce, and the savages\nthemselves, to the orthodox Christians.\" Thus M. Dudouyt could not but\nfail in his mission, and he wrote to Mgr. de Laval that Colbert, while\nrecognizing very frankly the devotion of the bishop and the\nmissionaries, believed that they exaggerated the fatal results of the\ntraffic. The zealous collaborator of the Bishop of Quebec at the same\ntime urged the prelate to suspend the spiritual penalties till then\nimposed upon the traders, in order to deprive the minister of every\nmotive of bitterness against the clergy.\n\nThe bishop admitted the wisdom of this counsel, which he followed, and\nmeanwhile the king, alarmed by a report from Commissioner Duchesneau,\nwho shared the view of the missionaries, desired to investigate and come\nto a final decision on the question. He therefore ordered the Count de\nFrontenac to choose in the colony twenty-four competent persons, and to\ncommission them to examine the drawbacks to the sale of intoxicating\nliquors. Unfortunately, the persons chosen for this enquiry were engaged\nin trade with the savages; their conclusions must necessarily be\nprejudiced. They declared that \"very few disorders arose from the\ntraffic in brandy, among the natives of the country; that, moreover, the\nDutch, by distributing intoxicating drinks to the Iroquois, attracted by\nthis means the trade in beaver skins to Orange and Manhattan. It was,\ntherefore, absolutely necessary to allow the brandy trade in order to\nbring the savages into the French colony and to prevent them from taking\ntheir furs to foreigners.\"\n\nWe cannot help being surprised at such a judgment when we read over the\nmemoirs of the time, which all agree in deploring the sad results of\nthis traffic. The most crying injustice, the most revolting immorality,\nthe ruin of families, settlements devastated by drunkenness, agriculture\nabandoned, the robust portion of the population ruining its health in\nprofitless expeditions: such were some of the most horrible fruits of\nalcohol. And what do we find as a compensation for so many evils? A few\ndozen rascals enriched, returning to squander in France a fortune\nshamefully acquired. And let it not be objected that, if the Indians had\nnot been able to purchase the wherewithal to satisfy their terrible\npassion for strong drink, they would have carried their furs to the\nEnglish or the Dutch, for it was proven that the offer of Governor\nAndros, to forbid the sale of brandy to the savages in New England on\ncondition that the French would act likewise in New France, was formally\nrejected. \"To-day when the passions of the time have long been silent,\"\nsays the Abbe Ferland, \"it is impossible not to admire the energy\ndisplayed by the noble bishop, imploring the pity of the monarch for the\nsavages of New France with all the courage shown by Las Casas, when he\npleaded the cause of the aborigines of Spanish America. Disdaining the\nhypocritical outcries of those men who prostituted the name of commerce\nto cover their speculations and their rapine, he exposed himself to\nscorn and persecution in order to save the remnant of those indigenous\nAmerican tribes, to protect his flock from the moral contagion which\nthreatened to weigh upon it, and to lead into the right path the young\nmen who were going to ruin among the savage tribes.\"\n\nThe worthy bishop desired to prevent the laxity of the sale of brandy\nthat might result from the declaration of the Committee of Twenty-four,\nand in the autumn of 1678 he set out again for France. To avoid a\njourney so fatiguing, he might easily have found excuses in the rest\nneeded after a difficult pastoral expedition which he had just\nconcluded, in the labours of his seminary which demanded his presence,\nand especially in the bad state of his health; but is not the first\nduty of a leader always to stand in the breach, and to give to all the\nexample of self-sacrifice? A report from his hand on the disorders\ncaused by the traffic in strong liquors would perhaps have obtained a\nfortunate result, but thinking that his presence at the court would be\nstill more efficacious, he set out. He managed to find in his charity\nand the goodness of his heart such eloquent words to depict the evils\nwrought upon the Church in Canada by the scourge of intoxication, that\nLouis XIV was moved, and commissioned his confessor, Father La Chaise,\nto examine the question conjointly with the Archbishop of Paris.\nAccording to their advice, the king expressly forbade the French to\ncarry intoxicating liquors to the savages in their dwellings or in the\nwoods, and he wrote to Frontenac to charge him to see that the edict was\nrespected. On his part, Laval consented to maintain the _cas reserve_\nonly against those who might infringe the royal prohibition. The Bishop\nof Quebec had hoped for more; for nothing could prevent the Indians from\ncoming to buy the terrible poison from the French, and moreover,\ndiscovery of the infractions of the law would be, if not impossible, at\nleast most difficult. Nevertheless, it was an advantage obtained over\nthe dealers and their protectors, who aimed at nothing less than an\nunrestricted traffic in brandy. A was set up against the\ndevastations of the scourge; the worthy bishop might hope to maintain\nit energetically by his vigilance and that of his coadjutors.\nUnfortunately, he could not succeed entirely, and little by little the\ndisorders became so multiplied that M. de Denonville considered brandy\nas one of the greatest evils of Canada, and that the venerable superior\nof St. Sulpice de Montreal, M. Dollier de Casson, wrote in 1691: \"I have\nbeen twenty-six years in this country, and I have seen our numerous and\nflourishing Algonquin missions all destroyed by drunkenness.\"\nAccordingly, it became necessary later to fall back upon the former\nrigorous regulations against the sale of intoxicating liquors to the\nIndians.\n\nBefore his departure for France the Bishop of Quebec had given the\ndevoted priests of St. Sulpice a mark of his affection: he constituted\nthe parish of Notre-Dame de Montreal according to the canons of the\nChurch, and joined it in perpetuity to the Seminary of Ville-Marie, \"to\nbe administered, under the plenary authority of the Bishops of Quebec,\nby such ecclesiastics as might be chosen by the superior of the said\nseminary. The priests of St. Sulpice having by their efforts and their\nlabours produced during so many years in New France, and especially in\nthe Island of Montreal, very great fruits for the glory of God and the\nadvantage of this growing Church, we have given them, as being most\nirreproachable in faith, doctrine, piety and conduct, in perpetuity, and\ndo give them, by virtue of these presents, the livings of the Island of\nMontreal, in order that they may be perfectly cultivated as up to now\nthey have been, as best they might be by their preachings and examples.\"\nIn fact, misunderstandings like that which had occurred on the arrival\nof de Queylus were no longer to be feared; since the authority to which\nLaval could lay claim had been duly established and proved, the\nSulpicians had submitted and accepted his jurisdiction. They had for a\nlonger period preserved their independence as temporal lords, and the\ngovernor of Ville-Marie, de Maisonneuve, jealous of preserving intact\nthe rights of those whom he represented, even dared one day to refuse\nthe keys of the fort to the governor-general, M. d'Argenson. Poor de\nMaisonneuve paid for this excessive zeal by the loss of his position,\nfor d'Argenson never forgave him.\n\nThe parish of Notre-Dame was united with the Seminary of Montreal on\nOctober 30th, 1678, one year after the issuing of the letters patent\nwhich recognized the civil existence of St. Sulpice de Montreal. Mgr. de\nLaval at the same time united with the parish of Notre-Dame the chapel\nof Bonsecours. On the banks of the St. Lawrence, not far from the church\nof Notre-Dame, rises a chapel of modest appearance. It is Notre-Dame de\nBonsecours. It has seen many generations kneeling on its square, and has\nnot ceased to protect with its shadow the Catholic quarter of Montreal.\nThe buildings about it rose successively, only to give way themselves\nto other monuments. Notre-Dame de Bonsecours is still respected; the\npiety of Catholics defends it against all attacks of time or progress,\nand the little church raises proudly in the air that slight wooden\nsteeple that more than once has turned aside the avenging bolt of the\nMost High. Sister Bourgeoys had begun it in 1657; to obtain the funds\nnecessary for its completion she betook herself to Paris. She obtained\none hundred francs from M. Mace, a priest of St. Sulpice. One of the\nassociates of the Company of Montreal, M. de Fancamp, received for her\nfrom two of his fellow-partners, MM. Denis and Lepretre, a statuette of\nthe Virgin made of the miraculous wood of Montagu, and he himself, to\nparticipate in this gift, gave her a shrine of the most wonderful\nrichness to contain the precious statue. On her return to Canada,\nMarguerite Bourgeoys caused to be erected near the house of the Sisters\na wooden lean-to in the form of a chapel, which became the provisional\nsanctuary of the statuette. Two years later, on June 29th, the laying of\nthe foundation stone of the chapel took place. The work was urged with\nenthusiasm, and encouraged by the pious impatience of Sister Bourgeoys.\nThe generosity of the faithful vied in enthusiasm, and gifts flowed in.\nM. de Maisonneuve offered a cannon, of which M. Souart had a bell made\nat his expense. Two thousand francs, furnished by the piety of the\ninhabitants, and one hundred louis from Sister Bourgeoys and her nuns,\naided the foundress to complete the realization of a wish long\ncherished in her heart; the new chapel became an inseparable annex of\nthe parish of Ville-Marie.\n\nThese most precious advantages were recognized on November 6th, 1678, by\nMgr. de Laval, who preserved throughout his life the most tender\ndevotion to the Mother of God. On the other hand, the prelate imposed\nupon the parish priest the obligation of having the Holy Mass celebrated\nthere on the Day of the Visitation, and of going there in procession on\nthe Day of the Assumption. Is it necessary to mention with what zeal,\nwith what devotion the Canadians brought to Mary in this new temple\ntheir homage and their prayers? Let us listen to the enthusiastic\nnarrative of Sister Morin, a nun of St. Joseph: \"The Holy Mass is said\nthere every day, and even several times a day, to satisfy the devotion\nand the trust of the people, which are great towards Notre-Dame de\nBonsecours. Processions wend their way thither on occasions of public\nneed or calamity, with much success. It is the regular promenade of the\ndevout persons of the town, who make a pilgrimage there every evening,\nand there are few good Catholics who, from all the places in Canada, do\nnot make vows of offerings to this chapel in all the dangers in which\nthey find themselves.\"\n\nThe church of Notre-Dame de Bonsecours was twice remodelled; built at\nfirst of oak on stone foundations, it was rebuilt of stone and consumed\nin 1754 in a conflagration which destroyed a part of the town. In 1772\nthe chapel was rebuilt as it exists now, one hundred and two feet long\nby forty-six wide.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nLAVAL RETURNS TO CANADA\n\n\nMgr. de Laval was still in France when the edict of May, 1679, appeared,\ndecreeing on the suggestion of Frontenac, that the tithe should be paid\nonly to \"each of the parish priests within the extent of his parish\nwhere he is established in perpetuity in the stead of the removable\npriest who previously administered it.\" The ideas of the Count de\nFrontenac were thus victorious, and the king retracted his first\ndecision. He had in his original decree establishing the Seminary of\nQuebec, granted the bishop and his successors \"the right of recalling\nand displacing the priests by them delegated to the parishes to exercise\ntherein parochial functions.\" Laval on his return to Canada conformed\nwithout murmur to the king's decision; he worked, together with the\ngovernor and commissioner, at drawing up the plan of the parishes to be\nestablished, and sent his vicar-general to install the priests who were\nappointed to the different livings. He desired to inspire his whole\nclergy with the disinterestedness which he had always evinced, for not\nonly did he recommend his priests \"to content themselves with the\nsimplest living, and with the bare necessaries of their support,\" but\nbesides, agreeing with the governor and the commissioner, he estimated\nthat an annual sum of five hundred livres merely, that is to say, about\nthree hundred dollars of our present money, was sufficient for the\nlodging and maintenance of a priest. This was more than modest, and yet,\nwithout a very considerable extension, there was no parish capable of\nsupplying the needs of its priest. There was indeed, it is true, an\narticle of the edict specifying that in case of the tithe being\ninsufficient, the necessary supplement should be fixed by the council\nand furnished by the seigneur of the place and by the inhabitants; but\nthis manner of aiding the priests who were reduced to a bare competence\nwas not practical, as was soon evident. Another article gave the title\nof patron to any seigneur who should erect a religious edifice; this\narticle was just as fantastic, \"for,\" wrote Commissioner Duchesneau,\n\"there is no private person in this country who is in a position to\nbuild churches of any kind.\"\n\nThe king, always well disposed towards the clergy of Canada, came to\ntheir aid again in this matter. He granted them an annual income of\neight thousand francs, to be raised from his \"_Western Dominions_,\" that\nis to say, from the sum derived in Canada from the _droit du quart_ and\nthe farm of Tadousac; from these funds, which were distributed by the\nseminary until 1692, and after this date by the bishop alone, two\nthousand francs were to be set aside for priests prevented by illness or\nold age from fulfilling the duties of the holy ministry, and twelve\nhundred francs were to be employed in the erection of parochial\nchurches. This aid came aptly, but was not sufficient, as Commissioner\nde Beauharnois himself admits. And yet the deplorable state in which the\ntreasury of France then was, on account of the enormous expenses\nindulged in by Louis XIV, and especially in consequence of the wars\nwhich he waged against Europe, obliged him to diminish this allowance.\nIn 1707 it was reduced by half.\n\nIt was feared for a time by the Sulpicians that the edict of 1679 might\ninjure the rights which they had acquired from the union with their\nseminary of the parishes established on the Island of Montreal, and they\ntherefore hastened to request from the king the civil confirmation of\nthis canonical union. \"There is,\" they said in their request, \"a sort of\nneed that the parishes of the Island of Montreal and of the surrounding\nparts should be connected with a community able to furnish them with\npriests, who could not otherwise be found in the country, to administer\nthe said livings; these priests would not expose themselves to a sea\nvoyage and to leaving their family comforts to go and sacrifice\nthemselves in a wild country, if they did not hope that in their\ninfirmity or old age they would be free to withdraw from the laborious\nadministration of the parishes, and that they would find a refuge in\nwhich to end their days in tranquillity in a community which, on its\npart, would not pledge itself in such a way as to afford them the hope\nof this refuge, and to furnish other priests in their place, if it had\nnot the free control of the said parishes and power to distribute among\nthem the ecclesiastics belonging to its body whom it might judge capable\nof this, and withdraw or exchange them when fitting.\" The request of the\nSulpicians was granted by the king.\n\nIt was not until 1680 that the Bishop of Quebec could return to Canada.\nThe all-important questions of the permanence of livings and of the\ntraffic in brandy were not the only ones which kept him in France;\nanother difficulty, that of the dependence of his diocese, demanded of\nhis devotion a great many efforts at the court. The circumstances were\ndifficult. France was plunged at this period in the famous dispute\nbetween the government and the court of Rome over the question of the\nright of _regale_, a dispute which nearly brought about a schism. The\nArchbishop of Paris, Mgr. de Harlay, who had laboured so much when he\nwas Bishop of Rouen to keep New France under the jurisdiction of the\ndiocese of Normandy, used his influence to make Canada dependent on the\narchbishopric of Paris. The death of this prelate put an end to this\nclaim, and the French colony in North America continued its direct\nconnection with the Holy See.\n\nMgr. de Laval strove also to obtain from the Holy Father the canonical\nunion of the abbeys of Maubec and of Lestrees with his bishopric; if he\nhad obtained it, he could have erected his chapter at once, assuring by\nthe revenues of these monasteries a sufficient maintenance for his\ncanons. The opposition of the religious orders on which these abbeys\ndepended defeated his plan, but in compensation he obtained from the\ngenerosity of the king a grant of land on which his successor,\nSaint-Vallier, afterwards erected the church of Notre-Dame des\nVictoires. The venerable prelate might well ask favours for his diocese\nwhen he himself set an example of the greatest generosity. By a deed,\ndated at Paris, he gave to his seminary all that he possessed: Ile\nJesus, the seigniories of Beaupre and Petite Nation, a property at\nChateau Richer, finally books, furniture, funds, and all that might\nbelong to him at the moment of his death.\n\nLaval returned to Canada at a time when the relations with the savage\ntribes were becoming so strained as to threaten an impending rupture. So\nfar had matters gone that Colonel Thomas Dongan, governor of New York,\nhad urged the Iroquois to dig up the hatchet, and he was only too\nwillingly obeyed. Unfortunately, the two governing heads of the colony\nwere replaced just at that moment. Governor de Frontenac and\nCommissioner Duchesneau were recalled in 1682, and supplanted by de la\nBarre and de Meulles. The latter were far from equalling their\npredecessors. M. de Lefebvre de la Barre was a clever sailor but a\ndeplorable administrator; as for the commissioner, M. de Meulles, his\nincapacity did not lessen his extreme conceit.\n\nOn his arrival at Quebec, Laval learned with deep grief that a terrible\nconflagration had, a few weeks before, consumed almost the whole of the\nLower Town. The houses, and even the stores being then built of wood,\neverything was devoured by the flames. A single dwelling escaped the\ndisaster, that of a rich private person, M. Aubert de la Chesnaie, in\nwhose house mass was said every Sunday and feast-day for the citizens of\nthe Lower Town who could not go to the parish service. To bear witness\nof his gratitude to Heaven, M. de la Chesnaie came to the aid of a good\nnumber of his fellow-citizens, and helped them with his money to rebuild\ntheir houses. This fire injured the merchants of Montreal almost as much\nas those of Quebec, and the _Histoire de l'Hotel-Dieu_ relates that\n\"more riches were lost on that sad night than all Canada now possesses.\"\n\nThe king had the greatest desire for the future reign of harmony in the\ncolony; accordingly he enjoined upon M. de Meulles to use every effort\nto agree with the governor-general: \"If the latter should fail in his\nduty to the sovereign, the commissioner should content himself with a\nremonstrance and allow him to act further without disturbing him, but as\nsoon as possible afterwards should render an account to the king's\ncouncil of what might be prejudicial to the good of the state.\" Mgr. de\nLaval, to whom the prince had written in the same tenor, replied at\nonce: \"The honour which your Majesty has done me in writing to me that\nM. de Meulles has orders to preserve here a perfect understanding with\nme in all things, and to give me all the aid in his power, is so evident\na mark of the affection which your Majesty cherishes for this new Church\nand for the bishop who governs it, that I feel obliged to assure your\nMajesty of my most humble gratitude. As I do not doubt that this new\ncommissioner whom you have chosen will fulfil with pleasure your\ncommands, I may also assure your Majesty that on my part I shall\ncorrespond with him in the fulfilment of my duty, and that I shall all\nmy life consider it my greatest joy to enter into the intentions of your\nMajesty for the general good of this country, which constitutes a part\nof your dominions.\" Concord thus advised could not displease a pastor\nwho loved nothing so much as union and harmony among all who held the\nreins of power, a pastor who had succeeded in making his Church a family\nso united that it was quoted once as a model in one of the pulpits of\nParis. If he sometimes strove against the powerful of this earth, it was\nwhen it was a question of combating injustice or some abuse prejudicial\nto the welfare of his flock. \"Although by his superior intelligence,\"\nsays Latour, \"by his experience, his labours, his virtues, his birth\nand his dignity, he was an oracle whose views the whole clergy\nrespected, no one ever more distrusted himself, or asked with more\nhumility, or followed with more docility the counsel of his inferiors\nand disciples.... He was less a superior than a colleague, who sought\nthe right with them and sought it only for its own sake. Accordingly,\nnever was prelate better obeyed or better seconded than Mgr. de Laval,\nbecause, far from having that professional jealousy which desires to do\neverything itself, which dreads merit and enjoys only despotism, never\ndid prelate evince more appreciative confidence in his inferiors, or\nseek more earnestly to give zeal and talent their dues, or have less\ndesire to command, or did, in fact, command less.\" The new governor\nbrought from France strong prejudices against the bishop; he lost them\nvery quickly, and he wrote to the minister, the Marquis de Seignelay:\n\"We have greatly laboured, the bishop and I, in the establishment of the\nparishes of this country. I send you the arrangement which we have\narrived at concerning them. We owe it to the bishop, who is extremely\nwell affected to the country, and in whom we must trust.\" The minister\nwrote to the prelate and expressed to him his entire satisfaction in his\ncourse.\n\nThe vigilant bishop had not yet entirely recovered from the fatigue of\nhis journey when he decided, in spite of the infirmities which were\nbeginning to overwhelm him, and which were to remain the constant\ncompanions of his latest years, to visit all the parishes and the\nreligious communities of his immense diocese. He had already traversed\nthem in the winter time in his former pastoral visits, shod with\nsnowshoes, braving the fogs, the snow and the bitterest weather. In the\nsuffocating heat of summer, travel in a bark canoe was scarcely less\nfatiguing to a man of almost sixty years, worn out by the hard ministry\nof a quarter of a century. However, he decided on a summer journey, and\nset out on June 1st, 1681, accompanied by M. de Maizerets, one of his\ngrand vicars. He visited successively Lotbiniere, Batiscan, Champlain,\nCap-de-la-Madeleine, Trois Rivieres, Chambly, Sorel, St. Ours,\nContrecoeur, Vercheres, Boucherville, Repentigny, Lachesnaie, and\narrived on June 19th at Montreal. The marks of respectful affection\nlavished upon him by the population compel him to receive continual\nvisits; but he has come especially for his beloved religious\ncommunities, and he honours them all with his presence, the Seminary of\nSt. Sulpice as well as the Congregation of Notre-Dame and the hospital.\nThese labours are not sufficient for his apostolic zeal; he betakes\nhimself to the house of the Jesuit Fathers at Laprairie, then to their\nIndian Mission at the Sault St. Louis, finally to the parish of St.\nFrancois de Sales, in the Ile Jesus. Descending the St. Lawrence River,\nhe sojourns successively at Longueuil, at Varennes, at Lavaltrie, at\nNicolet, at Becancourt, at Gentilly, at Ste. Anne de la Perade, at\nDeschambault. He returns to Quebec; his devoted fellow-workers in the\nseminary urge him to rest, but he will think of rest only when his\nmission is fully ended. He sets out again, and Ile aux Oies,\nCap-Saint-Ignace, St. Thomas, St. Michel, Beaumont, St. Joseph de Levis\nhave in turn the happiness of receiving their pastor. The undertaking\nwas too great for the bishop's strength, and he suffered the results\nwhich could not but follow upon such a strain. The registers of the\nSovereign Council prove to us that only a week after his return he had\nto take to his bed, and for two months could not occupy his seat among\nthe other councillors. \"His Lordship fell ill of a dangerous malady,\"\nsays a memoir of that time. \"For the space of a fortnight his death was\nexpected, but God granted us the favour of bringing him to\nconvalescence, and eventually to his former health.\"\n\nM. de la Barre, on his arrival, desired to inform himself exactly of the\ncondition of the colony. In a great assembly held at Quebec, on October\n10th, 1682, he gathered all the men who occupied positions of\nconsideration in the colony. Besides the governor, the bishop and the\ncommissioner, there were noticed among others M. Dollier de Casson, the\nsuperior of the Seminary of St. Sulpice at Montreal, several Jesuit\nFathers, MM. de Varennes, governor of Three Rivers, d'Ailleboust, de\nBrussy and Le Moyne. The information which M. de la Barre obtained from\nthe assembly was far from reassuring; incessantly stirred up by Governor\nDongan's genius for intrigue, the Iroquois were preparing to descend\nupon the little colony. If they had not already begun hostilities, it\nwas because they wished first to massacre the tribes allied with the\nFrench; already the Hurons, the Algonquins, the Conestogas, the\nDelawares and a portion of the Illinois had fallen under their blows. It\nwas necessary to save from extermination the Ottawa and Illinois tribes.\nNow, one might indeed raise a thousand robust men, accustomed to savage\nwarfare, but, if they were used for an expedition, who would cultivate\nin their absence the lands of these brave men? A prompt reinforcement\nfrom the mother country became urgent, and M. de la Barre hastened to\ndemand it.\n\nThe war had already begun. The Iroquois had seized two canoes, the\nproperty of La Salle, near Niagara; they had likewise attacked and\nplundered fourteen Frenchmen _en route_ to the Illinois with merchandise\nvalued at sixteen thousand francs. It was known, besides, that the\nCayugas and the Senecas were preparing to attack the French settlements\nthe following summer. In spite of all, the expected help did not arrive.\nOne realizes the anguish to which the population must have been a prey\nwhen one reads the following letter from the Bishop of Quebec: \"Sire,\nthe Marquis de Seignelay will inform your Majesty of the war which the\nIroquois have declared against your subjects of New France, and will\nexplain the need of sending aid sufficient to destroy, if possible, this\nenemy, who has opposed for so many years the establishment of this\ncolony.... Since it has pleased your Majesty to choose me for the\ngovernment of this growing Church, I feel obliged, more than any one, to\nmake its needs manifest to you. The paternal care which you have always\nhad for us leaves me no room to doubt that you will give the necessary\norders for the most prompt aid possible, without which this poor country\nwould be exposed to a danger nigh unto ruin.\"\n\nThe expected reinforcements finally arrived; on November 9th, 1684, the\nwhole population of Quebec, assembled at the harbour, received with joy\nthree companies of soldiers, composed of fifty-two men each. The Bishop\nof Quebec did not fail to express to the king his personal obligation\nand the gratitude of all: \"The troops which your Majesty has sent to\ndefend us against the Iroquois,\" he wrote to the king, \"and the lands\nwhich you have granted us for the subsidiary church of the Lower Town,\nand the funds which you have allotted both to rebuild the cathedral\nspire and to aid in the maintenance of the priests, these are favours\nwhich oblige me to thank your Majesty, and make me hope that you will\ndeign to continue your royal bounties to our Church and the whole\ncolony.\"\n\nM. de la Barre was thus finally able to set out on his expedition\nagainst the Iroquois. At the head of one hundred and thirty soldiers,\nseven hundred militia and two hundred and sixty Indians, he marched to\nLake Ontario, where the Iroquois, intimidated, sent him a deputation.\nThe ambassadors, who expected to see a brilliant army full of ardour,\nwere astonished to find themselves in the presence of pale and emaciated\nsoldiers, worn out more by sickness and privations of every kind than by\nfatigue. The governor, in fact, had lost ten or twelve days at Montreal;\non the way the provisions had become spoiled and insufficient, hence the\nname of Famine Creek given to the place where he entered with his\ntroops, above the Oswego River. At this sight the temper of the\ndelegates changed, and their proposals showed it; they spoke with\narrogance, and almost demanded peace; they undertook to indemnify the\nFrench merchants plundered by them on condition that the army should\ndecamp on the morrow. Such weakness could not attract to M. de la Barre\nthe affection of the colonists; the king relieved him from his\nfunctions, and appointed as his successor the Marquis de Denonville, a\ncolonel of dragoons, whose valour seemed to promise the colony better\ndays.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nRESIGNATION OF MGR. DE LAVAL\n\n\nThe long and conscientious pastoral visit which he had just ended had\nproved to the indefatigable prelate that it would be extremely difficult\nto establish his parishes solidly. Instead of grouping themselves\ntogether, which would have given them the advantages of union both\nagainst the attacks of savages and for the circumstances of life in\nwhich man has need of the aid of his fellows, the colonists had built\ntheir dwellings at random, according to the inspiration of the moment,\nand sometimes at long distances from each other; thus there existed, as\nlate as 1678, only twenty-five fixed livings, and it promised to be very\ndifficult to found new ones. To give a pastor the direction of\nparishioners established within an enormous radius of his parish house,\nwas to condemn his ministry in advance to inefficacy. To prove it, the\nAbbe Gosselin cites a striking example. Of the two missionaries who\nshared the southern shore, the one, M. Morel, ministered to the country\nbetween Berthier and Riviere du Loup; the other, M. Volant de\nSaint-Claude, from Berthier to Riviere du Chene, and each of them had\nonly about sixty families scattered here and there. And how was one to\nexpect that these poor farmers could maintain their pastor and build a\nchurch? Almost everywhere the chapels were of wood or clapboards, and\nthatched; not more than eight or nine centres of population could boast\nof possessing a stone church; many hamlets still lacked a chapel and\nimitated the Lower Town of Quebec, whose inhabitants attended service in\na private house. As to priests' houses, they were a luxury that few\nvillages could afford: the priest had to content himself with being\nsheltered by a respectable colonist.\n\nDuring the few weeks when illness confined him to his bed, Laval had\nleisure to reflect on the difficulties of his task. He understood that\nhis age and the infirmities which the Lord laid upon him would no longer\npermit him to bring to so arduous a work the necessary energy. \"His\nhumility,\" says Sister Juchereau, \"persuaded him that another in his\nplace would do more good than he, although he really did a great deal,\nbecause he sought only the glory of God and the welfare of his flock.\"\nIn consequence, he decided to go and carry in person his resignation to\nthe king. But before embarking for France, with his accustomed prudence\nhe set his affairs in order. He had one plan, especially, at heart, that\nof establishing according to the rules of the Church the chapter which\nhad already existed _de facto_ for a long while. Canons are necessary to\na bishopric; their duties are not merely decorative, for they assist the\nbishop in his episcopal office, form his natural council, replace him\non certain occasions, govern the diocese from the death of its head\nuntil the deceased is replaced, and finally officiate in turn before the\naltars of the cathedral in order that prayer shall incessantly ascend\nfrom the diocese towards the Most High. The only obstacle to this\ncreation until now had been the lack of resources, for the canonical\nunion with the abbeys of Maubec and Lestrees was not yet an accomplished\nfact. Mgr. de Laval resolved to appeal to the unselfishness of the\npriests of the seminary, and he succeeded: they consented to fulfil\nwithout extra salary the duties of canons.\n\nBy an ordinance of November 6th, 1684, the Bishop of Quebec established\na chapter composed of twelve canons and four chaplains. The former,\namong whom were five priests born in the colony, were M. Henri de\nBernieres, priest of Quebec, who remained dean until his death in 1700;\nMM. Louis Ange de Maizerets, archdeacon, Charles Glandelet, theologist,\nDudouyt, grand cantor, and Jean Gauthier de Brulon, confessor. The\nceremony of installation took place with the greatest pomp, amid the\nboom of artillery and the joyful sound of bells and music; governor,\nintendant, councillors, officers and soldiers, inhabitants of the city\nand the environments, everybody wished to be present. It remained to\ngive a constitution to the new chapter. Mgr. de Laval had already busied\nhimself with this for several months, and corresponded on this subject\nwith M. Cheron, a clever lawyer of Paris. Accordingly, the constitution\nwhich he submitted for the infant chapter on the very morrow of the\nceremony was admired unreservedly and adopted without discussion.\nTwenty-four hours afterwards he set sail accompanied by the good wishes\nof his priests, who, with anxious heart and tears in their eyes,\nfollowed him with straining gaze until the vessel disappeared below the\nhorizon. Before his departure, he had, like a father who in his last\nhour divides his goods among his children, given his seminary a new\nproof of his attachment: he left it a sum of eight thousand francs for\nthe building of the chapel.\n\nIt would seem that sad presentiments assailed him at this moment, for he\nsaid in the deed of gift: \"I declare that my last will is to be buried\nin this chapel; and if our Lord disposes of my life during this voyage I\ndesire that my body be brought here for burial. I also desire this\nchapel to be open to the public.\" Fortunately, he was mistaken, it was\nnot the intention of the Lord to remove him so soon from the affections\nof his people. For twenty years more the revered prelate was to spread\nabout him good works and good examples, and Providence reserved for him\nthe happiness of dying in the midst of his flock.\n\nHis generosity did not confine itself to this grant. He could not leave\nhis diocese, which he was not sure of seeing again, without giving a\ntoken of remembrance to that school of St. Joachim, which he had\nfounded and which he loved so well; he gave the seminary eight thousand\nfrancs for the support of the priest entrusted with the direction of the\nschool at the same time as with the ministry of the parish, and another\nsum of four thousand francs to build the village church.\n\nA young Canadian priest, M. Guyon, son of a farmer of the Beaupre shore,\nhad the good fortune of accompanying the bishop on the voyage. It would\nhave been very imprudent to leave the venerable prelate alone, worn out\nas he was by troublesome fits of vertigo whenever he indulged too long\nin work; besides, he was attacked by a disease of the heart, whose\nonslaughts sometimes incapacitated him.\n\nIt would be misjudging the foresight of Mgr. de Laval to think that\nbefore embarking for the mother country he had not sought out a priest\nworthy to replace him. He appealed to two men whose judgment and\ncircumspection he esteemed, M. Dudouyt and Father Le Valois of the\nSociety of Jesus. He asked them to recommend a true servant of God,\nvirtuous and zealous above all. Father Le Valois indicated the Abbe Jean\nBaptiste de la Croix de Saint-Vallier, the king's almoner, whose zeal\nfor the welfare of souls, whose charity, great piety, modesty and method\nmade him the admiration of all. The influence which his position and the\npowerful relations of his family must gain for the Church in Canada\nwere an additional argument in his favour; the superior of St. Sulpice,\nM. Tronson, who was also consulted, praised highly the talents and the\nqualities of the young priest. \"My Lord has shown great virtue in his\nresignation,\" writes M. Dudouyt. \"I know no occasion on which he has\nshown so strongly his love for his Church; for he has done everything\nthat could be desired to procure a person capable of preserving and\nperfecting the good work which he has begun here.\" If the Abbe de\nSaint-Vallier had not been a man after God's own heart, he would not\nhave accepted a duty so honourable but so difficult. He was not unaware\nof the difficulties which he would have to surmount, for Mgr. de Laval\nexplained them to him himself with the greatest frankness; and, what was\na still greater sacrifice, the king's almoner was to leave the most\nbrilliant court in the world for a very remote country, still in process\nof organization. Nevertheless he accepted, and Laval had the\nsatisfaction of knowing that he was committing his charge into the hands\nof a worthy successor.\n\nIt was now only a question of obtaining the consent of the king before\npetitioning the sovereign pontiff for the canonical establishment of the\nnew episcopal authority. It was not without difficulty that it was\nobtained, for the prince could not decide to accept the resignation of a\nprelate who seemed to him indispensable to the interests of New France.\nHe finally understood that the decision of Mgr. de Laval was\nirrevocable; as a mark of confidence and esteem he allowed him to choose\nhis successor.\n\nAt this period the misunderstanding created between the common father of\nthe faithful and his most Christian Majesty by the claims of the latter\nin the matter of the right of _regale_[9] kept the Church in a false\nposition, to the grief of all good Catholics. Pope Innocent XI waited\nwith persistent and calm firmness until Louis XIV should become again\nthe elder son of the Church; until then France could not exist for him,\nand more than thirty episcopal sees remained without occupants in the\ncountry of Saint Louis and of Joan of Arc. It was not, then, to be hoped\nthat the appointment by the king of the Abbe de Saint-Vallier as second\nbishop of Quebec could be immediately sanctioned by the sovereign\npontiff. It was decided that Mgr. de Laval, to whom the king granted an\nannuity for life of two thousand francs from the revenues of the\nbishopric of Aire, should remain titular bishop until the consecration\nof his successor, and that M. de Saint-Vallier, appointed provisionally\ngrand vicar of the prelate, should set out immediately for New France,\nwhere he would assume the government of the diocese. The Abbe de\nSaint-Vallier had not yet departed before he gave evidence of his\nmunificence, and proved to the faithful of his future bishopric that he\nwould be to them as generous a father as he whom he was about to\nreplace. By deed of May 10th, 1685, he presented to the Seminary of\nQuebec a sum of forty-two thousand francs, to be used for the\nmaintenance of missionaries; he bequeathed to it at the same time all\nthe furniture, books, etc., which he should possess at his death.\nLaval's purpose was to remain for the present in France, where he would\nbusy himself actively for the interests of Canada, but his fixed resolve\nwas to go and end his days on that soil of New France which he loved so\nwell. It was in 1688, only a few months after the official appointment\nof Saint-Vallier to the bishopric of Quebec, and his consecration on\nJanuary 25th of the same year, that Laval returned to Canada.\n\nM. de Saint-Vallier embarked at La Rochelle in the beginning of June,\n1685, on the royal vessel which was carrying to Canada the new\ngovernor-general, M. de Denonville. The king having permitted him to\ntake with him a score of persons, he made a most judicious choice: nine\necclesiastics, several school-masters and a few good workmen destined\nfor the labours of the seminary, accompanied him. The voyage was long\nand very fatiguing. The passengers were, however, less tried than those\nof two other ships which followed them, on one of which more than five\nhundred soldiers had been crowded together. As might have been\nexpected, sickness was not long in breaking out among them; more than\none hundred and fifty of these unfortunates died, and their bodies were\ncast into the sea.\n\nImmediately after his arrival the grand vicar visited all the religious\nestablishments of the town, and he observed everywhere so much harmony\nand good spirit that he could not pass it over in silence. Speaking with\nadmiration of the seminary, he said: \"Every one in it devoted himself to\nspiritual meditation, with such blessed results that from the youngest\ncleric to the highest ecclesiastics in holy orders each one brought of\nhis own accord all his personal possessions to be used in common. It\nseemed to me then that I saw revived in the Church of Canada something\nof that spirit of unworldliness which constituted one of the principal\nbeauties of the budding Church of Jerusalem in the time of the\napostles.\" The examples of brotherly unity and self-effacement which he\nadmired so much in others he also set himself: he placed in the library\nof the seminary a magnificent collection of books which he had brought\nwith him, and deposited in the coffers of the house several thousand\nfrancs in money, his personal property. Braving the rigours of the\nseason, he set out in the winter of 1685 and visited the shore of\nBeaupre, the Island of Orleans, and then the north shore as far as\nMontreal. In the spring he took another direction, and inspected all\nthe missions of Gaspesia and Acadia. He was so well satisfied with the\ncondition of his diocese that he wrote to Mgr. de Laval: \"All that I\nregret is that there is no more good for me to do in this Church.\"\n\nIn the spring of this same year, 1686, a valiant little troop was making\na more warlike pastoral visit. To seventy robust Canadians, commanded by\nd'Iberville, de Sainte-Helene and de Maricourt, all sons of Charles Le\nMoyne, the governor had added thirty good soldiers under the orders of\nMM. de Troyes, Duchesnil and Catalogne, to take part in an expedition\nfor the capture of Hudson Bay from the English. Setting out on\nsnowshoes, dragging their provisions and equipment on toboggans, then\nadvancing, sometimes on foot, sometimes in bark canoes, they penetrated\nby the Ottawa River and Temiskaming and Abitibi Lakes as far as James\nBay. They did not brave so many dangers and trials without being\nresolved to conquer or die; accordingly, in spite of its twelve cannon,\nFort Monsipi was quickly carried. The two forts, Rupert and Ste. Anne,\nsuffered the same fate, and the only one that remained to the English,\nthat named Fort Nelson, was preserved to them solely because its remote\nsituation saved it. The head of the expedition, M. de Troyes, on his\nreturn to Quebec, rendered an account of his successes to M. de\nDenonville and to a new commissioner, M. de Champigny, who had just\nreplaced M. de Meulles.\n\nThe bishop's infirmities left him scarcely any respite. \"My health,\" he\nwrote to his successor, \"is exceedingly good considering the bad use I\nmake of it. It seems, however, that the wound which I had in my foot\nduring five or six months at Quebec has been for the last three weeks\nthreatening to re-open. The holy will of God be done!\" And he added, in\nhis firm resolution to pass his last days in Canada: \"In any case, I\nfeel that I have sufficient strength and health to return this year to\nthe only place which now can give me peace and rest. _In pace in idipsum\ndormiam et requiescam._ Meanwhile, as we must have no other aim than the\ngood pleasure of our Lord, whatever desire He gives me for this rest and\npeace, He grants me at the same time the favour of making Him a\nsacrifice of it in submitting myself to the opinion that you have\nexpressed, that I should stay this year in France, to be present at your\nreturn next autumn.\" The bad state of his health did not prevent him\nfrom devoting his every moment to Canadian interests. He went into the\nmost infinitesimal details of the administration of his diocese, so\ngreat was his solicitude for his work. \"We must hasten this year, if\npossible,\" he wrote, \"to labour at the re-establishment of the church of\nSte. Anne du Petit-Cap, to which the whole country has such an\nattachment. We must work also to push forward the clearing of the lands\nof St. Joachim, in order that we may have the proper rotation crops on\neach farm, and that the farms may suffice for the needs of the\nseminary.\" In another letter he concerns himself with the sum of three\nthousand francs granted by the king each year for the marriage portion\nof a certain number of poor young girls marrying in Canada. \"We should,\"\nsays he, \"distribute these moneys in parcels, fifty francs, or ten\ncrowns, to the numerous poor families scattered along the shores, in\nwhich there is a large number of children.\" He practises this wise\neconomy constantly when it is a question, not of his personal property,\nbut of the funds of his seminary. He finds that his successor, whom the\nten years which he had passed at court as king's almoner could not have\ntrained in parsimony, allows himself to be carried away, by his zeal and\nhis desire to do good, to a somewhat excessive expense. With what tact\nand delicacy he indulges in a discreet reproach! \"_Magna est fides\ntua_,\" he writes to him, \"and much greater than mine. We see that all\nour priests have responded to it with the same confidence and entire\nsubmission with which they have believed it their duty to meet your\nsentiments, in which they have my approval. My particular admiration has\nbeen aroused by seeing in all your letters and in all the impulses of\nyour heart so great a reliance on the lovable Providence of God that not\nonly has it permitted you not to have the least doubt that it would\nabundantly provide the wherewithal for the support of all the works\nwhich it has suggested to you, but that upon this basis, which is the\nfirm truth, you have had the courage to proceed to the execution of\nthem. It is true that my heart has long yearned for what you have\naccomplished; but I have never had sufficient confidence or reliance to\nundertake it. I always awaited the means _quae pater posuit in sua\npotestate_. I hope that, since the Most Holy Family of our Lord has\nsuggested all these works to you, they will give you means and ways to\nmaintain what is so much to the glory of God and the welfare of souls.\nBut, according to all appearances, great difficulties will be found,\nwhich will only serve to increase this confidence and trust in God.\" And\nhe ends with this prudent advice: \"Whatever confidence God desires us to\nhave in His providence, it is certain that He demands from us the\nobservance of rules of prudence, not human and political, but Christian\nand just.\"\n\nHe concerns himself even with the servants, and it is singular to note\nthat his mind, so apt to undertake and execute vast plans, possesses\nnone the less an astonishing sagacity and accuracy of observation in\npetty details. One Valet, entrusted with the purveyance, had obtained\npermission to wear the cassock. \"Unless he be much changed in his\nhumour,\" writes Mgr. de Laval, \"it would be well to send him back to\nFrance; and I may even opine that, whatever change might appear in him,\nhe would be unfitted to administer a living, the basis of his character\nbeing very rustic, gross, and displeasing, and unsuitable for\necclesiastical functions, in which one is constantly obliged to converse\nand deal with one's neighbours, both children and adults. Having given\nhim the cassock and having admitted him to the refectory, I hardly see\nany other means of getting rid of him than to send him back to France.\"\n\nIn his correspondence with Saint-Vallier, Laval gives an account of the\nvarious steps which he was taking at court to maintain the integrity of\nthe diocese of Quebec. This was, for a short time, at stake. The\nRecollets, who had followed La Salle in his expeditions, were trying\nwith some chance of success to have the valley of the Mississippi and\nLouisiana made an apostolic vicariate independent of Canada. Laval\nfinally gained his cause; the jurisdiction of the bishopric of Quebec\nover all the countries of North America which belonged to France was\nmaintained, and later the Seminary of Quebec sent missionaries to\nLouisiana and to the Mississippi.\n\nBut the most important questions, which formed the principal subject\nboth of his preoccupations and of his letters, are that of the\nestablishment of the Recollets in the Upper Town of Quebec, that of a\nplan for a permanent mission at Baie St. Paul, and above all, that of\nthe tithes and the support of the priests. This last question brought\nabout between him and Mgr. de Saint-Vallier a most complete conflict of\nviews. Yet the differences of opinion between the two servants of God\nnever prevented them from esteeming each other highly. The following\nletter does as much honour to him who wrote it as to him to whom such\nhomage is rendered: \"The noble house of Laval from which he sprang,\"\nwrites Mgr. de Saint-Vallier, \"the right of primogeniture which he\nrenounced on entering upon the ecclesiastical career; the exemplary life\nwhich he led in France before there was any thought of raising him to\nthe episcopacy; the assiduity with which he governed so long the Church\nin Canada; the constancy and firmness which he showed in surmounting all\nthe obstacles which opposed on divers occasions the rectitude of his\nintentions and the welfare of his dear flock; the care which he took of\nthe French colony and his efforts for the conversion of the savages; the\nexpeditions which he undertook several times in the interests of both;\nthe zeal which impelled him to return to France to seek a successor; his\ndisinterestedness and the humility which he manifested in offering and\nin giving so willingly his frank resignation; finally, all the great\nvirtues which I see him practise every day in the seminary where I\nsojourn with him, would well deserve here a most hearty eulogy, but his\nmodesty imposes silence upon me, and the veneration in which he is held\nwherever he is known is praise more worthy than I could give him....\"\n\nMgr. de Saint-Vallier left Quebec for France on November 18th, 1686,\nonly a few days after a fire which consumed the Convent of the\nUrsulines; the poor nuns, who had not been able to snatch anything from\nthe flames, had to accept, until the re-construction of their convent,\nthe generous shelter offered them by the hospitable ladies of the\nHotel-Dieu. Mgr. de Saint-Vallier did not disembark at the port of La\nRochelle until forty-five days after his departure, for this voyage was\none continuous storm.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[9] A right, belonging formerly to the kings of France, of enjoying the\nrevenues of vacant bishoprics.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nMGR. DE LAVAL COMES FOR THE LAST TIME\nTO CANADA\n\n\nMgr. de Saint-Vallier received the most kindly welcome from the king: he\navailed himself of it to request some aid on behalf of the priests of\nthe seminary whom age and infirmity condemned to retirement. He obtained\nit, and received, besides, fifteen thousand francs for the building of\nan episcopal palace. He decided, in fact, to withdraw from the seminary,\nin order to preserve complete independence in the exercise of his high\nduties. Laval learned with sorrow of this decision; he, who had always\nclung to the idea of union with his seminary and of having but one\ncommon fund with this house, beheld his successor adopt an opposite line\nof conduct. Another cause of division rose between the two prelates; the\ntoo great generosity of Mgr. de Saint-Vallier had brought the seminary\ninto financial embarrassment. The Marquis de Seignelay, then minister,\nthought it wiser under such circumstances to postpone till later the\nreturn of Mgr. de Laval to Canada. The venerable bishop, whatever it\nmust have cost him, adhered to this decision with a wholly Christian\nresignation. \"You will know by the enclosed letters,\" he writes to the\npriests of the Seminary of Quebec, \"what compels me to stay in France. I\nhad no sooner received my sentence than our Lord granted me the favour\nof inspiring me to go before the most Holy Sacrament and make a\nsacrifice of all my desires and of that which is the dearest to me in\nthe world. I began by making the _amende honorable_ to the justice of\nGod, who deigned to extend to me the mercy of recognizing that it was in\njust punishment of my sins and lack of faith that His providence\ndeprived me of the blessing of returning to a place where I had so\ngreatly offended; and I told Him, I think with a cheerful heart and a\nspirit of humility, what the high priest Eli said when Samuel declared\nto him from God what was to happen to him: '_Dominus est: quod bonum est\nin oculis suis faciat_.' But since the will of our Lord does not reject\na contrite and humble heart, and since He both abases and exalts, He\ngave me to know that the greatest favour He could grant me was to give\nme a share in the trials which He deigned to bear in His life and death\nfor love of us; in thanksgiving for which I said a Te Deum with a heart\nfilled with joy and consolation in my soul: for, as to the lower nature,\nit is left in the bitterness which it must bear. It is a hurt and a\nwound which will be difficult to heal and which apparently will last\nuntil my death, unless it please Divine Providence, which disposes of\nmen's hearts as it pleases, to bring about some change in the condition\nof affairs. This will be when it pleases God, and as it may please Him,\nwithout His creatures being able to oppose it.\"\n\nIn Canada the return of the revered Mgr. de Laval was impatiently\nexpected, and the governor, M. de Denonville, himself wrote that \"in the\npresent state of public affairs it was necessary that the former bishop\nshould return, in order to influence men's minds, over which he had a\ngreat ascendency by reason of his character and his reputation for\nsanctity.\" Some persons wrongfully attributed to the influence of\nSaint-Vallier the order which detained the worthy bishop in France; on\nthe contrary, Saint-Vallier had said one day to the minister, \"It would\nbe very hard for a bishop who has founded this church and who desires to\ngo and die in its midst, to see himself detained in France. If Mgr. de\nLaval should stay here the blame would be cast upon his successor,\nagainst whom for this reason many people would be ill disposed.\"\n\nM. de Denonville desired the more eagerly the return of this prelate so\nbeloved in New France, since difficulties were arising on every hand.\nConvinced that peace with the Iroquois could not last, he began by\namassing provisions and ammunition at Fort Cataraqui, without heeding\nthe protests of Colonel Dongan, the most vigilant and most experienced\nenemy of French domination in America; then he busied himself with\nfortifying Montreal. He visited the place, appointed as its governor\nthe Chevalier de Callieres, a former captain in the regiment of\nNavarre, and in the spring of 1687 employed six hundred men under the\ndirection of M. du Luth, royal engineer, in the erection of a palisade.\nThese wooden defences, as was to be expected, were not durable and\ndemanded repairs every year. The year 1686, which had begun with the\nconquest of the southern portion of Hudson Bay, was spent almost\nentirely in preparations for war and negotiations for peace; the\nIroquois, nevertheless, continued their inroads. Finally M. de\nDenonville, having received during the following spring eight hundred\npoor recruits under the command of Vaudreuil, was ready for his\nexpedition. Part of these reinforcements were at once sent to Montreal,\nwhere M. de Callieres was gathering a body of troops on St. Helen's\nIsland: eight hundred and thirty-two regulars, one thousand Canadians,\nand three hundred Indian allies, all burning with the desire of\ndistinguishing themselves, awaited now only the signal for departure.\n\n\"With this superiority of forces,\" says one author, \"Denonville\nconceived, however, the unfortunate idea of beginning hostilities by an\nact which dishonoured the French name among the savages, that name\nwhich, in spite of their great irritation, they had always feared and\nrespected.\" With the purpose of striking terror into the Iroquois he\ncaused to be seized the chiefs whom the Five Nations had sent as\ndelegates to Cataraqui at the request of Father de Lamberville, and\nsent them to France to serve on board the royal galleys. This violation\nof the law of nations aroused the fury of the Iroquois, and two\nmissionaries, Father Lamberville and Millet, though entirely innocent of\nthis crime, escaped torture only with difficulty. The king disapproved\nwholly of this treason, and returned the prisoners to Canada; others\nwho, at Fort Frontenac, had been taken by M. de Champigny in as\ntreacherous a manner, were likewise restored to liberty.\n\nThe army, divided into four bodies, set out on June 11th, 1687, in four\nhundred boats. It was joined at Sand River, on the shore of Lake\nOntario, by six hundred men from Detroit, and advanced inland. After\nhaving passed through two very dangerous defiles, the French were\nsuddenly attacked by eight hundred of the enemy ambushed in the bed of a\nstream. At first surprised, they promptly recovered from their\nconfusion, and put the savages to flight. Some sixty Iroquois were\nwounded in this encounter, and forty-five whom they left dead on the\nfield of battle were eaten by the Ottawas, according to the horrible\ncustom of these cannibals. They entered then into the territory of the\nTsonnontouans, which was found deserted; everything had been reduced to\nashes, except an immense quantity of maize, to which they set fire; they\nkilled also a prodigious number of swine, but they did not meet with a\nsingle Indian.\n\nInstead of pursuing the execution of these reprisals by marching\nagainst the other nations, M. de Denonville proceeded to Niagara, where\nhe built a fort. The garrison of a hundred men which he left there\nsuccumbed in its entirety to a mysterious epidemic, probably caused by\nthe poor quality of the provisions. Thus the campaign did not produce\nresults proportionate to the preparations which had been made; it\nhumbled the Iroquois, but by this very fact it excited their rage and\ndesire for vengeance; so true is it that half-measures are more\ndangerous than complete inaction. They were, besides, cleverly goaded on\nby Governor Dongan. Towards the end of the summer they ravaged the whole\nwestern part of the colony, and carried their audacity to the point of\nburning houses and killing several persons on the Island of Montreal.\n\nM. de Denonville understood that he could not carry out a second\nexpedition; disease had caused great havoc among the population and the\nsoldiers, and he could no longer count on the Hurons of Michilimackinac,\nwho kept up secret relations with the Iroquois. He was willing to\nconclude peace, and consented to demolish Fort Niagara and to bring back\nthe Iroquois chiefs who had been sent to France to row in the galleys.\nThe conditions were already accepted on both sides, when the\nnegotiations were suddenly interrupted by the duplicity of Kondiaronk,\nsurnamed the Rat, chief of the Michilimackinac Hurons. This man, the\nmost cunning and crafty of Indians, a race which has nothing to learn\nin point of astuteness from the shrewdest diplomat, had offered his\nservices against the Iroquois to the governor, who had accepted them.\nEnkindled with the desire of distinguishing himself by some brilliant\ndeed, he arrives with a troop of Hurons at Fort Frontenac, where he\nlearns that a treaty is about to be concluded between the French and the\nIroquois. Enraged at not having even been consulted in this matter,\nfearing to see the interests of his nation sacrificed, he lies in wait\nwith his troop at Famine Creek, falls upon the delegates, and, killing a\nnumber of them, makes the rest prisoners. On the statement of the latter\nthat they were going on an embassy to Ville-Marie, he feigns surprise,\nand is astonished that the French governor-general should have sent him\nto attack men who were going to treat with him. He then sets them at\nliberty, keeping a single one of them, whom he hastens to deliver to M.\nde Durantaye, governor of Michilimackinac; the latter, ignorant of the\nnegotiations with the Iroquois, has the prisoner shot in spite of the\nprotestations of the wretched man, who the Rat pretends is mad. The plan\nof the Huron chief has succeeded; it remains now only to reap the fruits\nof it. He frees an old Iroquois who has long been detained in captivity\nand sends him to announce to his compatriots that the French are seeking\nin the negotiations a cowardly means of ridding themselves of their\nfoes. This news exasperated the Five Nations; henceforth peace was\nimpossible, and the Iroquois went to join the English, with whom, on the\npretext of the dethronement of James II, war was again about to break\nout. M. de Callieres, governor of Montreal, set out for France to lay\nbefore the king a plan for the conquest of New York; the monarch adopted\nit, but, not daring to trust its execution to M. de Denonville, he\nrecalled him in order to entrust it to Count de Frontenac, now again\nappointed governor.\n\nWe can easily conceive that in the danger thus threatening the colony M.\nde Denonville should have taken pains to surround himself with all the\nmen whose aid might be valuable to him. \"You will have this year,\" wrote\nM. de Brisacier to M. Glandelet, \"the joy of seeing again our two\nprelates. You will find the first more holy and more than ever dead to\nhimself; and the second will appear to you all that you can desire him\nto be for the particular consolation of the seminary and the good of New\nFrance.\" On the request of the governor-general, in fact, Mgr. de Laval\nsaw the obstacle disappear which had opposed his departure, and he\nhastened to take advantage of it. He set out in the spring of 1688, at\nthat period of the year when vegetation begins to display on all sides\nits festoons of verdure and flowers, and transforms Normandy and\nTouraine, that garden of France, into genuine groves; the calm of the\nair, the perfumed breezes of the south, the arrival of the southern\nbirds with their rich and varied plumage, all contribute to make these\ndays the fairest and sweetest of the year; but, in his desire to reach\nas soon as possible the country where his presence was deemed necessary,\nthe venerable prelate did not wait for the spring sun to dry the roads\nsoaked by the rains of winter; accordingly, in spite of his infirmities,\nhe was obliged to travel to La Rochelle on horseback. However, he could\nnot embark on the ship _Le Soleil d'Afrique_ until about the middle of\nApril.\n\nHis duties as Bishop of Quebec had ended on January 25th preceding, the\nday of the episcopal consecration of M. de Saint-Vallier. It would seem\nthat Providence desired that the priestly career of the prelate and his\nlast co-workers should end at the same time. Three priests of the\nSeminary of Quebec went to receive in heaven almost at the same period\nthe reward of their apostolic labours. M. Thomas Morel died on September\n23rd, 1687; M. Jean Guyon on January 10th, 1688; and M. Dudouyt on the\nfifteenth of the same month. This last loss, especially, caused deep\ngrief to Mgr. de Laval. He desired that the heart of the devoted\nmissionary should rest in that soil of New France for which it had\nalways beat, and he brought it with him. The ceremony of the burial at\nQuebec of the heart of M. Dudouyt was extremely touching; the whole\npopulation was present. Up to his latest day this priest had taken the\ngreatest interest in Canada, and the letter which he wrote to the\nseminary a few days before his death breathes the most ardent charity;\nit particularly enjoined upon all patience and submission to authority.\n\nThe last official document signed by Mgr. de Laval as titulary bishop\nwas an addition to the statutes and rules which he had previously drawn\nup for the Chapter of the city of Champlain. He wrote at the same time:\n\"It remains for me now, sirs and dearly beloved brethren, only to thank\nyou for the good affection that you preserve towards me, and to assure\nyou that it will not be my fault if I do not go at the earliest moment\nto rejoin you in the growing Church which I have ever cherished as the\nportion and heritage which it has pleased our Lord to preserve for me\nduring nearly thirty years. I supplicate His infinite goodness that he\ninto whose hands He has caused it to pass by my resignation may repair\nall my faults.\"\n\nThe prelate landed on June 3rd. \"The whole population,\" says the Abbe\nFerland, \"was heartened and rejoiced by the return of Mgr. de Laval, who\ncame back to Canada to end his days among his former flock. His virtues,\nhis long and arduous labours in New France, his sincere love for the\nchildren of the country, had endeared him to the Canadians; they felt\ntheir trust in Providence renewed on beholding again him who, with them,\nat their head, had passed through many years of trial and suffering.\" He\nhardly took time to rest, but set out at once for Montreal, where he was\nanxious to deliver in person to the Sulpicians the document of\nspiritual and devotional union which had been quite recently signed at\nParis by the Seminary of St. Sulpice and by that of the Foreign\nMissions. Returning to Quebec, he had the pleasure of receiving his\nsuccessor on the arrival of the latter, who disembarked on July 31st,\n1688.\n\nThe reception of Mgr. de Saint-Vallier was as cordial as that offered\ntwo months before to his predecessor. \"As early as four o'clock in the\nmorning,\" we read in the annals of the Ursulines, \"the whole population\nwas alert to hasten preparations. Some arranged the avenue along which\nthe new bishop was to pass, others raised here and there the standard of\nthe lilies of France. In the course of the morning Mgr. de Laval,\naccompanied by several priests, betook himself to the vessel to salute\nhis successor whom the laws of the old French etiquette kept on board\nhis ship until he had replied to all the compliments prepared for him.\nFinally, about two o'clock in the afternoon, the whole clergy, the civil\nand military authorities, and the people having assembled on the quay,\nMgr. de Saint-Vallier made his appearance, addressed first by M. de\nBernieres in the name of the clergy. He was next greeted by the mayor,\nin the name of the whole town, then the procession began to move, with\nmilitary music at its head, and the new bishop was conducted to the\ncathedral between two files of musketeers, who did not fail to salute\nhim and to fire volleys along the route.\" \"The thanksgiving hymn which\nre-echoed under the vaults of the holy temple found an echo in all\nhearts,\" we read in another account; \"and the least happy was not that\nof the worthy prelate who thus inaugurated his long and laborious\nepiscopal career.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nMASSACRE OF LACHINE\n\n\nThe virtue of Mgr. de Laval lacked the supreme consecration of\nmisfortune. A wearied but triumphant soldier, the venerable shepherd of\nsouls, coming back to dwell in the bishopric of Quebec, the witness of\nhis first apostolic labours, gave himself into the hands of his Master\nto disappear and die. \"Lord,\" he said with Simeon, \"now lettest thou thy\nservant depart in peace according to thy word.\" But many griefs still\nremained to test his resignation to the Divine Will, and the most\nshocking disaster mentioned in our annals was to sadden his last days.\nThe year 1688 had passed peacefully enough for the colony, but it was\nonly the calm which is the forerunner of the storm. The Five Nations\nemployed their time in secret organization; the French, lulled in this\ndeceptive security, particularly by news which had come from M. de\nValrennes, in command of Fort Frontenac, to whom the Iroquois had\ndeclared that they were coming down to Montreal to make peace, had left\nthe forts to return to their dwellings and to busy themselves with the\nwork of the fields. Moreover, the Chevalier de Vaudreuil, who commanded\nat Montreal in the absence of M. de Callieres, who had gone to France,\ncarried his lack of foresight to the extent of permitting the officers\nstationed in the country to leave their posts. It is astonishing to note\nsuch imprudent neglect on the part of men who must have known the savage\nnature. Rancour is the most deeply-rooted defect in the Indian, and it\nwas madness to think that the Iroquois could have forgotten so soon the\ninsult inflicted on their arms by the expedition of M. de Denonville, or\nthe breach made in their independence by the abduction of their chiefs\nsent to France as convicts. The warning of their approaching incursion\nhad meanwhile reached Quebec through a savage named Ataviata;\nunfortunately, the Jesuit Fathers had no confidence in this Indian; they\nassured the governor-general that Ataviata was a worthless fellow, and\nM. de Denonville made the mistake of listening too readily to these\nprejudices and of not at least redoubling his precautions.\n\nIt was on the night between August 4th and 5th, 1689; all was quiet on\nthe Island of Montreal. At the end of the evening's conversation, that\nnecessary complement of every well-filled day, the men had hung their\npipes, the faithful comrades of their labour, to a rafter of the\nceiling; the women had put away their knitting or pushed aside in a\ncorner their indefatigable spinning-wheel, and all had hastened to seek\nin sleep new strength for the labour of the morrow. Outside, the\nelements were unchained, the rain and hail were raging. As daring as\nthe Normans when they braved on frail vessels the fury of the seas, the\nIroquois, to the number of fifteen hundred, profited by the storm to\ntraverse Lake St. Louis in their bark canoes, and landed silently on the\nshore at Lachine. They took care not to approach the forts; the darkness\nwas so thick that the soldiers discovered nothing unusual and did not\nfire the cannon as was the custom on the approach of the enemy. Long\nbefore daybreak the savages, divided into a number of squads, had\nsurrounded the houses within a radius of several miles. Suddenly a\npiercing signal is given by the chiefs, and at once a horrible clamour\nrends the air; the terrifying war-cry of the Iroquois has roused the\nsleepers and raised the hair on the heads of the bravest. The colonists\nleap from their couches, but they have no time to seize their weapons;\ndemons who seem to be vomited forth by hell have already broken in the\ndoors and windows. The dwellings which the Iroquois cannot penetrate are\ndelivered over to the flames, but the unhappy ones who issue from them\nin confusion to escape the tortures of the fire are about to be\nabandoned to still more horrible torments. The pen refuses to describe\nthe horrors of this night, and the imagination of Dante can hardly in\nhis \"Inferno\" give us an idea of it. The butchers killed the cattle,\nburned the houses, impaled women, compelled fathers to cast their\nchildren into the flames, spitted other little ones still alive and\ncompelled their mothers to roast them. Everything was burned and\npillaged except the forts, which were not attacked; two hundred persons\nof all ages and of both sexes perished under torture, and about fifty,\ncarried away to the villages, were bound to the stake and burned by a\nslow fire. Nevertheless the great majority of the inhabitants were able\nto escape, thanks to the strong liquors kept in some of the houses, with\nwhich the savages made ample acquaintance. Some of the colonists took\nrefuge in the forts, others were pursued into the woods.\n\nMeanwhile the alarm had spread in Ville-Marie. M. de Denonville, who was\nthere, gives to the Chevalier de Vaudreuil the order to occupy Fort\nRoland with his troops and a hundred volunteers. De Vaudreuil hastens\nthither, accompanied by de Subercase and other officers; they are all\neager to measure their strength with the enemy, but the order of\nDenonville is strict, they must remain on the defensive and run no risk.\nBy dint of insistence, Subercase obtained permission to make a sortie\nwith a hundred volunteers; at the moment when he was about to set out he\nhad to yield the command to M. de Saint-Jean, who was higher in rank.\nThe little troop went and entrenched itself among the debris of a burned\nhouse and exchanged an ineffectual fire with the savages ambushed in a\nclump of trees. They soon perceived a party of French and friendly\nIndians who, coming from Fort Remy, were proceeding towards them in\ngreat danger of being surrounded by the Iroquois, who were already\nsobered. The volunteers wished to rush out to meet this reinforcement,\nbut their commander, adhering to his instructions, which forbade him to\npush on farther, restrained them. What might have been foreseen\nhappened: the detachment from Fort Remy was exterminated. Five of its\nofficers were taken and carried off towards the Iroquois villages, but\nsucceeded in escaping on the way, except M. de la Rabeyre, who was bound\nto the stake and perished in torture.\n\nOn reading these details one cannot understand the inactivity of the\nFrench: it would seem that the authorities had lost their heads. We\ncannot otherwise explain the lack of foresight of the officers absent\nfrom their posts, the pusillanimous orders of the governor to M. de\nVaudreuil, his imprudence in sending too weak a troop through the\ndangerous places, the lack of initiative on the part of M. de\nSaint-Jean, finally, the absolute lack of energy and audacity, the\ncomplete absence of that ardour which is inherent in the French\ncharacter.\n\nAfter this disaster the troops returned to the forts, and the\nsurrounding district, abandoned thus to the fury of the barbarians, was\nravaged in all directions. The Iroquois, proud of the terror which they\ninspired, threatened the city itself; we note by the records of Montreal\nthat on August 25th there were buried two soldiers killed by the\nsavages, and that on September 7th following, Jean Beaudry suffered the\nsame fate. Finding nothing more to pillage or to burn, they passed to\nthe opposite shore, and plundered the village of Lachesnaie. They\nmassacred a portion of the population, which was composed of seventy-two\npersons, and carried off the rest. They did not withdraw until the\nautumn, dragging after them two hundred captives, including fifty\nprisoners taken at Lachine.\n\nThis terrible event, which had taken place at no great distance from\nthem, and the news of which re-echoed in their midst, struck the\ninhabitants of Quebec with grief and terror. Mgr. de Laval was cruelly\naffected by it, but, accustomed to adore in everything the designs of\nGod, he seized the occasion to invoke Him with more fervour; he\nimmediately ordered in his seminary public prayers to implore the mercy\nof the Most High. M. de Frontenac, who was about to begin his second\nadministration, learned the sinister news on his arrival at Quebec on\nOctober 15th. He set out immediately for Montreal, which he reached on\nthe twenty-seventh of the same month. He visited the environments, and\nfound only ruins and ashes where formerly rose luxurious dwellings.\n\nWar had just been rekindled between France and Great Britain. The\ngovernor had not men enough for vast operations, accordingly he prepared\nto organize a guerilla warfare. While the Abenaquis, those faithful\nallies, destroyed the settlements of the English in Acadia and killed\nnearly two hundred persons there, Count de Frontenac sent in the winter\nof 1689-90, three detachments against New England; all three were\ncomposed of only a handful of men, but these warriors were well\nseasoned. In the rigorous cold of winter, traversing innumerable miles\non their snowshoes, sinking sometimes into the icy water, sleeping in\nthe snow, carrying their supplies on their backs, they surprised the\nforts which they went to attack, where one would never have believed\nthat men could execute so rash an enterprise. Thus the three detachments\nwere alike successful, and the forts of Corlaer in the state of New\nYork, of Salmon Falls in New Hampshire, and of Casco on the seaboard,\nwere razed.\n\nThe English avenged these reverses by capturing Port Royal. Encouraged\nby this success, they sent Phipps at the head of a large troop to seize\nQuebec, while Winthrop attacked Montreal with three thousand men, a\nlarge number of whom were Indians. Frontenac hastened to Quebec with M.\nde Callieres, governor of Montreal, the militia and the regular troops.\nAlready the fortifications had been protected against surprise by new\nand well-arranged entrenchments. The hostile fleet appeared on October\n16th, 1690, and Phipps sent an officer to summon the governor to\nsurrender the place. The envoy, drawing out his watch, declared with\narrogance to the Count de Frontenac that he would give him an hour to\ndecide. \"I will answer you by the mouth of my cannon,\" replied the\nrepresentative of Louis XIV. The cannon replied so well that at the\nfirst shot the admiral's flag fell into the water; the Canadians,\nbraving the balls and bullets which rained about them, swam out to get\nit, and this trophy remained hanging in the cathedral of Quebec until\nthe conquest. The _Histoire de l'Hotel-Dieu de Quebec_ depicts for us\nvery simply the courage and piety of the inhabitants during this siege.\n\"The most admirable thing, and one which surely drew the blessing of\nHeaven upon Quebec was that during the whole siege no public devotion\nwas interrupted. The city is arranged so that the roads which lead to\nthe churches are seen from the harbour; thus several times a day were\nbeheld processions of men and women going to answer the summons of the\nbells. The English noticed them; they called M. de Grandeville (a brave\nCanadian, and clerk of the farm of Tadousac, whom they had made\nprisoner) and asked him what it was. He answered them simply: 'It is\nmass, vespers, and the benediction.' By this assurance the citizens of\nQuebec disconcerted them; they were astonished that women dared to go\nout; they judged by this that we were very easy in our minds, though\nthis was far from being the case.\"\n\nIt is not surprising that the colonists should have fought valiantly\nwhen their bishops and clergy set the example of devotion, when the\nJesuits remained constantly among the defenders to encourage and assist\non occasion the militia and the soldiers, when Mgr. de Laval, though\nwithdrawn from the conduct of religious affairs, without even the right\nof sitting in the Sovereign Council, animated the population by his\npatriotic exhortations. To prove to the inhabitants that the cause which\nthey defended by struggling for their homes was just and holy, at the\nsame time as to place the cathedral under the protection of Heaven, he\nsuggested the idea of hanging on the spire of the cathedral a picture of\nthe Holy Family. This picture was not touched by the balls and bullets,\nand was restored after the siege to the Ursulines, to whom it belonged.\n\nAll the attempts of the English failed; in a fierce combat at Beauport\nthey were repulsed. There perished the brave Le Moyne de Sainte-Helene;\nthere, too, forty pupils of the seminary established at St. Joachim by\nMgr. de Laval distinguished themselves by their bravery and contributed\nto the victory. Already Phipps had lost six hundred men. He decided to\nretreat. To cap the climax of misfortune, his fleet met in the lower\npart of the river with a horrible storm; several of his ships were\ndriven by the winds as far as the Antilles, and the rest arrived only\nwith great difficulty at Boston. Winthrop's army, disorganized by\ndisease and discord, had already scattered.\n\nA famine which followed the siege tried the whole colony, and Laval had\nto suffer by it as well as the seminary, for neither had hesitated\nbefore the sacrifices necessary for the general weal. \"All the furs and\nfurniture of the Lower Town were in the seminary,\" wrote the prelate; \"a\nnumber of families had taken refuge there, even that of the intendant.\nThis house could not refuse in such need all the sacrifices of charity\nwhich were possible, at the expense of a great portion of the provisions\nwhich were kept there. The soldiers and others have taken and consumed\nat least one hundred cords of wood and more than fifteen hundred planks.\nIn brief, in cattle and other damages the loss to the seminary will\namount to a round thousand crowns. But we must on occasions of this sort\nbe patient, and do all the good we can without regard to future need.\"\n\nThe English were about to suffer still other reverses. In 1691 Major\nSchuyler, with a small army composed in part of savages, came and\nsurprised below the fort of the Prairie de la Madeleine a camp of\nbetween seven and eight hundred soldiers, whose leader, M. de\nSaint-Cirque, was slain; but the French, recovering, forced the major to\nretreat, and M. de Valrennes, who hastened up from Chambly with a body\nof inhabitants and Indians, put the enemy to flight after a fierce\nstruggle. The English failed also in Newfoundland; they were unable to\ncarry Fort Plaisance, which was defended by M. de Brouillan; but he who\nwas to do them most harm was the famous Pierre Le Moyne d'Iberville, son\nof Charles Le Moyne. Born in Montreal in 1661, he subsequently entered\nthe French navy. In the year 1696 he was ordered to drive the enemy out\nof Newfoundland; he seized the capital, St. John's, which he burned,\nand, marvellous to relate, with only a hundred and twenty-five men he\nsubdued the whole island, slew nearly two hundred of the English, and\ntook six or seven hundred prisoners. The following year he set out with\nfive ships to take possession of Hudson Bay. One day his vessel found\nitself alone before Fort Nelson, facing three large ships of the enemy;\nto the amazement of the English, instead of surrendering, d'Iberville\nrushes upon them. In a fierce fight lasting four hours, he sinks the\nstrongest, compels the second to surrender, while the third flees under\nfull sail. Fort Bourbon surrendered almost at once, and Hudson Bay was\ncaptured.\n\nAfter the peace d'Iberville explored the mouths of the Mississippi,\nerected several forts, founded the city of Mobile, and became the first\ngovernor of Louisiana. When the war began again, the king gave him a\nfleet of sixteen vessels to oppose the English in the Indies. He died of\nan attack of fever in 1706.\n\nDuring this time, the Iroquois were as dangerous to the French by their\ninroads and devastations as the Abenaquis were to the English colonies;\naccordingly Frontenac wished to subdue them. In the summer of 1696,\nbraving the fatigue and privations so hard to bear for a man of his age,\nFrontenac set out from Ile Perrot with more than two thousand men, and\nlanded at the mouth of the Oswego River. He found at Onondaga only the\nsmoking remains of the village to which the savages had themselves set\nfire, and the corpses of two Frenchmen who had died in torture. He\nmarched next against the Oneidas; all had fled at his approach, and he\nhad to be satisfied with laying waste their country. There remained\nthree of the Five Nations to punish, but winter was coming on and\nFrontenac did not wish to proceed further into the midst of invisible\nenemies, so he returned to Quebec.\n\nThe following year it was learned that the Treaty of Ryswick had just\nbeen concluded between France and England. France kept Hudson Bay, but\nLouis XIV pledged himself to recognize William III as King of England.\nThe Count de Frontenac had not the good fortune of crowning his\nbrilliant career by a treaty with the savages; he died on November 28th,\n1698, at the age of seventy-eight years. In reaching this age without\nexceeding it, he presented a new point of resemblance to his model,\nLouis the Great, according to whom he always endeavoured to shape his\nconduct, and who was destined to die at the age of seventy-seven.\n\n [Note.--The incident of the flag mentioned above on page 230 is\n treated at greater length in Dr. Le Sueur's _Frontenac_, pp. 295-8,\n in the \"Makers of Canada\" series. He takes a somewhat different\n view of the event.--Ed.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE LABOURS OF OLD AGE\n\n\nThe peace lasted only four years. M. de Callieres, who succeeded Count\nde Frontenac, was able, thanks to his prudence and the devotion of the\nmissionaries, to gather at Montreal more than twelve hundred Indian\nchiefs or warriors, and to conclude peace with almost all the tribes.\nChief Kondiaronk had become a faithful friend of the French; it was to\nhis good-will and influence that they were indebted for the friendship\nof a large number of Indian tribes. He died at Montreal during these\npeaceful festivities and was buried with pomp.\n\nThe war was about to break out anew, in 1701, with Great Britain and the\nother nations of Europe, because Louis XIV had accepted for his grandson\nand successor the throne of Spain. M. de Callieres died at this\njuncture; his successor, Philippe de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil,\nbrought the greatest energy to the support in Canada of a struggle which\nwas to end in the dismemberment of the colony. God permitted Mgr. de\nLaval to die before the Treaty of Utrecht, whose conditions would have\ntorn the patriotic heart of the venerable prelate.\n\nOther reasons for sorrow he did not lack, especially when Mgr. de\nSaint-Vallier succeeded, on his visit to the king in 1691, in obtaining\na reversal of the policy marked out for the seminary by the first bishop\nof the colony; this establishment would be in the future only a seminary\nlike any other, and would have no other mission than that of the\ntraining of priests. By a decree of the council of February 2nd, 1692,\nthe number of the directors of the seminary was reduced to five, who\nwere to concern themselves principally with the training of young men\nwho might have a vocation for the ecclesiastical life; they might also\ndevote themselves to missions, with the consent of the bishop. No\necclesiastic had the right of becoming an associate of the seminary\nwithout the permission of the bishop, within whose province it was to\nemploy the former associates for the service of his diocese with the\nconsent of the superiors. The last part of the decree provided that the\nfour thousand francs given by the king for the diocese of Quebec should\nbe distributed in equal portions, one for the seminary and the two\nothers for the priests and the church buildings. As to the permanence of\npriests, the decree issued by the king for the whole kingdom was to be\nadhered to in Canada. In the course of the same year Mgr. de\nSaint-Vallier obtained, moreover, from the sovereign the authority to\nopen at Quebec in Notre-Dame des Anges, the former convent of the\nRecollets, a general hospital for the poor, which was entrusted to the\nnuns of the Hotel-Dieu. The poor who might be admitted to it would be\nemployed at work proportionate to their strength, and more particularly\nin the tilling of the farms belonging to the establishment. If we\nremember that Mgr. de Laval had consecrated twenty years of his life to\ngiving his seminary, by a perfect union between its members and his\nwhole clergy, a formidable power in the colony, a power which in his\nopinion could be used only for the good of the Church and in the public\ninterest, and that he now saw his efforts annihilated forever, we cannot\nhelp admiring the resignation with which he managed to accept this\ndestruction of his dearest work. And not only did he bow before the\nimpenetrable designs of Providence, but he even used his efforts to\npacify those around him whose excitable temperaments might have brought\nabout conflicts with the authorities. The Abbe Gosselin quotes in this\nconnection the following example: \"A priest, M. de Francheville, thought\nhe had cause for complaint at the behaviour of his bishop towards him,\nand wrote him a letter in no measured terms, but he had the good sense\nto submit it previously to Mgr. de Laval, whom he regarded as his\nfather. The aged bishop expunged from this letter all that might wound\nMgr. de Saint-Vallier, and it was sent with the corrections which he\ndesired.\" The venerable prelate did not content himself with avoiding\nall that might cause difficulties to his successor; he gave him his\nwhole aid in any circumstances, and in particular in the foundation of\na convent of Ursulines at Three Rivers, and when the general hospital\nwas threatened in its very existence. \"Was it not a spectacle worthy of\nthe admiration of men and angels,\" exclaims the Abbe Fornel in his\nfuneral oration on Mgr. de Saint-Vallier, \"to see the first Bishop of\nQuebec and his successor vieing one with the other in a noble rivalry\nand in a struggle of religious fervour for the victory in exercises of\npiety? Have they not both been seen harmonizing and reconciling together\nthe duties of seminarists and canons; of canons by their assiduity in\nthe recitation of the breviary, and of seminarists in condescending to\nthe lowest duties, such as sweeping and serving in the kitchen?\" The\npatience and trust in God of Mgr. de Laval were rewarded by the\nfollowing letter which he received from Father La Chaise, confessor to\nKing Louis XIV: \"I have received with much respect and gratitude two\nletters with which you have honoured me. I have blessed God that He has\npreserved you for His glory and the good of the Church in Canada in a\nperiod of deadly mortality; and I pray every day that He may preserve\nyou some years more for His service and the consolation of your old\nfriends and servants. I hope that you will maintain towards them to the\nend your good favour and interest, and that those who would wish to make\nthem lose these may be unable to alter them. You will easily judge how\ngreatly I desire that our Fathers may merit the continuation of your\nkindness, and may preserve a perfect union with the priests of your\nseminary, by the sacrifice which I desire they should make to the\nlatter, in consideration of you, of the post of Tamarois, in spite of\nall the reasons and the facility for preserving it to them....\"\n\nThe mortality to which the reverend father alludes was the result of an\nepidemic which carried off, in 1700, a great number of persons. Old men\nin particular were stricken, and M. de Bernieres among others fell a\nvictim to the scourge. It is very probable that this affliction was\nnothing less than the notorious influenza which, in these later years,\nhas cut down so many valuable lives throughout the world. The following\nyears were still more terrible for the town; smallpox carried off\none-fourth of the population of Quebec. If we add to these trials the\ndisaster of the two conflagrations which consumed the seminary, we shall\nhave the measure of the troubles which at this period overwhelmed the\ncity of Champlain. The seminary, begun in 1678, had just been barely\ncompleted. It was a vast edifice of stone, of grandiose appearance; a\nsun dial was set above a majestic door of two leaves, the approach to\nwhich was a fine stairway of cut stone. \"The building,\" wrote Frontenac\nin 1679, \"is very large and has four storeys, the walls are seven feet\nthick, the cellars and pantries are vaulted, the lower windows have\nembrasures, and the roof is of slate brought from France.\" On November\n15th, 1701, the priests of the seminary had taken their pupils to St.\nMichel, near Sillery, to a country house which belonged to them. About\none in the afternoon fire broke out in the seminary buildings. The\ninhabitants hastened up from all directions to the spot and attempted\nwith the greatest energy to stay the progress of the flames. Idle\nefforts! The larger and the smaller seminary, the priests' house, the\nchapel barely completed, were all consumed, with the exception of some\nfurniture and a little plate and tapestry. The cathedral was saved,\nthanks to the efforts of the state engineer, M. Levasseur de Nere, who\nsucceeded in cutting off the communication of the sacred temple with the\nbuildings in flames. Mgr. de Laval, confined then to a bed of pain,\navoided death by escaping half-clad; he accepted for a few days,\ntogether with the priests of the seminary, the generous hospitality\noffered them by the Jesuit Fathers. In order not to be too long a burden\nto their hosts, they caused to be prepared for their lodgment the\nepiscopal palace which had been begun by Mgr. de Saint-Vallier. They\nremoved there on December 4th following. The scholars had been divided\nbetween the episcopal palace and the house of the Jesuits. \"The\nprelate,\" says Sister Juchereau, \"bore this affliction with perfect\nsubmission to the will of God, without uttering any complaint. It must\nhave been, however, the more grievous to him since it was he who had\nplanned and erected the seminary, since he was its father and founder,\nand since he saw ruined in one day the fruit of his labour of many\nyears.\" Thanks to the generosity of the king, who granted aid to the\nextent of four thousand francs, it was possible to begin rebuilding at\nonce. But the trials of the priests were not yet over. \"On the first day\nof October, 1705,\" relate the annals of the Ursulines, \"the priests of\nthe seminary were afflicted by a second fire through the fault of a\ncarpenter who was preparing some boards in one end of the new building.\nWhile smoking he let fall in a room full of shavings some sparks from\nhis pipe. The fire being kindled, it consumed in less than an hour all\nthe upper storeys. Only those which were vaulted were preserved. The\npriests estimate that they have lost more in this second fire than in\nthe first. They are lodged below, waiting till Providence furnishes them\nwith the means to restore their building. The Jesuit Fathers have acted\nthis time with the same charity and cordiality as on the former\noccasion. Mgr. L'Ancien[10] and M. Petit have lived nearly two months in\ntheir infirmary. This rest has been very profitable to Monseigneur, for\nhe has come forth from it quite rejuvenated. May the Lord grant that he\nbe preserved a long time yet for the glory of God and the good of\nCanada!\"\n\nWhen Nehemiah returned to Jerusalem to raise it from its ruins, a great\ngrief seized upon him at the sight of the roofs destroyed, the broken\ndoors, the shattered ramparts of the city of David. In the middle of\nthe night he made the circuit of these ruins, and on the morrow he\nsought the magistrates and said to them: \"You see the distress that we\nare in? Come, and let us build up the wall of Jerusalem.\" The same\nfeelings no doubt oppressed the soul of the octogenarian prelate when he\nsaw the walls cracked and blackened, the heaps of ruins, sole remnants\nof his beloved house. But like Nehemiah he had the support of a great\nKing, and the confidence of succeeding. He set to work at once, and\nfound in the generosity of his flock the means to raise the seminary\nfrom its ruins. While he found provisional lodgings for his seminarists,\nhe himself took up quarters in a part of the seminary which had been\nspared by the flames; he arranged, adjoining his room, a little oratory\nwhere he kept the Holy Sacrament, and celebrated mass. There he passed\nhis last days and gave up his fair soul to God.\n\nMgr. de Saint-Vallier had not like his predecessor the sorrow of seeing\nfire consume his seminary; he had set out in 1700 for France, and the\ndifferences which existed between the two prelates led the monarch to\nretain Mgr. de Saint-Vallier near him. In 1705 the Bishop of Quebec\nobtained permission to return to his diocese. But for three years\nhostilities had already existed between France and England. The bishop\nembarked with several monks on the _Seine_, a vessel of the Royal Navy.\nThis ship carried a rich cargo valued at nearly a million francs, and\nwas to escort several merchant ships to their destination at Quebec. The\nconvoy fell in, on July 26th, with an English fleet which gave chase to\nit; the merchant ships fled at full sail, abandoning the _Seine_ to its\nfate. The commander, M. de Meaupou, displayed the greatest valour, but\nhis vessel, having a leeward position, was at a disadvantage; besides,\nhe had committed the imprudence of so loading the deck with merchandise\nthat several cannon could not be used. In spite of her heroic defence,\nthe _Seine_ was captured by boarding, the commander and the officers\nwere taken prisoners, and Mgr. de Saint-Vallier remained in captivity in\nEngland till 1710.\n\nThe purpose of Mgr. de Saint-Vallier's journey to Europe in 1700 had\nbeen his desire to have ratified at Rome by the Holy See the canonical\nunion of his abbeys, and the union of the parish of Quebec with the\nseminary. On setting out he had entrusted the administration of the\ndiocese to MM. Maizerets and Glandelet; as to ordinations, to the\nadministration of the sacrament of confirmation, and to the consecration\nof the holy oils, Mgr. de Laval would be always there, ready to lavish\nhis zeal and the treasures of his charity. This long absence of the\nchief of the diocese could not but impose new labours on Mgr. de Laval.\nNever did he refuse a sacrifice or a duty, and he saw in this an\nopportunity to increase the sum of good which he intended soon to lay\nat the foot of the throne of the Most High. He was seventy-nine years of\nage when, in spite of the havoc then wrought by the smallpox throughout\nthe country, he went as far as Montreal, there to administer the\nsacrament of confirmation. Two years before his death, he officiated\npontifically on Easter Day in the cathedral of Quebec. \"On the festival\nof Sainte Magdalene,\" say the annals of the general hospital, \"we have\nhad the consolation of seeing Mgr. de Laval officiate pontifically\nmorning and evening.... He was accompanied by numerous clergy both from\nthe seminary and from neighbouring missions.... We regarded this favour\nas a mark of the affection cherished by this holy prelate for our\nestablishment, for he was never wont to officiate outside the cathedral,\nand even there but rarely on account of his great age. He was then more\nthan eighty years old. The presence of a person so venerable by reason\nof his character, his virtues, and his great age much enhanced this\nfestival. He gave the nuns a special proof of his good-will in the visit\nwhich he deigned to make them in the common hall.\" The predilection\nwhich the pious pontiff constantly preserved for the work of the\nseminary no whit lessened the protection which he generously granted to\nall the projects of education in the colony; the daughters of Mother\nMary of the Incarnation as well as the assistants of Mother Marguerite\nBourgeoys had claims upon his affection. He fostered with all his power\nthe establishment of the Sisters of the Congregation, both at Three\nRivers and at Quebec. His numerous works left him but little respite,\nand this he spent at his school of St. Joachim in the refreshment of\nquiet and rest. Like all holy men he loved youth, and took pleasure in\nteaching and directing it. Accordingly, during these years when, in\nspite of the sixteen _lustra_ which had passed over his venerable head,\nhe had to take upon himself during the long absence of his successor the\ninterim duties of the diocese, at least as far as the exclusively\nepiscopal functions were concerned, he learned to understand and\nappreciate at their true value the sacrifices of the Charron Brothers,\nwhose work was unfortunately to remain fruitless.\n\nIn 1688 three pious laymen, MM. Jean Francois Charron, Pierre Le Ber,\nand Jean Fredin had established in Montreal a house with a double\npurpose of charity: to care for the poor and the sick, and to train men\nand send them to open schools in the country districts. Their plan was\napproved by the king, sanctioned by the bishop of the diocese,\nencouraged by the seigneurs of the island, and welcomed by all the\ncitizens with gratitude. In spite of these symptoms of future prosperity\nthe work languished, and the members of the community were separated and\nscattered one after the other. M. Charron did not lose courage. In 1692\nhe devoted his large fortune to the foundation of a hospital and a\nschool, and received numerous gifts from charitable persons. Six\nhospitallers of the order of St. Joseph of the Cross, commonly called\nFreres Charron, took the gown in 1701, and pronounced their vows in\n1704, but the following year they ceased to receive novices. The\nminister, M. de Pontchartrain, thought \"the care of the sick is a task\nbetter adapted to women than to men, notwithstanding the spirit of\ncharity which may animate the latter,\" and he forbade the wearing of the\ncostume adopted by the hospitallers. Francois Charron, seeing his work\nnullified, yielded to the inevitable, and confined himself to the\ntraining of teachers for country parishes. The existence of this\nestablishment, abandoned by the mother country to its own strength, was\nto become more and more precarious and feeble. Almost all the\nhospitallers left the institution to re-enter the world; the care of the\nsick was entrusted to the Sisters. Francois Charron made a journey to\nFrance in order to obtain the union for the purposes of the hospital of\nthe Brothers of St. Joseph with the Society of St. Sulpice, but he\nfailed in his efforts. He obtained, nevertheless, from the regent an\nannual subvention of three thousand francs for the training of\nschool-masters (1718). He busied himself at once with finding fitting\nrecruits, and collected eight. The elder sister of our excellent normal\nschools of the present day seemed then established on solid foundations,\nbut it was not to be so. Brother Charron died on the return voyage, and\nhis institution, though seconded by the Seminary of St. Sulpice, after\nestablishing Brothers in several villages in the environs of Montreal,\nreceived from the court a blow from which it did not recover: the regent\nforbade the masters to assume a uniform dress and to pledge themselves\nby simple vows. The number of the hospitallers decreased from year to\nyear, and in 1731 the royal government withdrew from them the annual\nsubvention which supported them, however poorly. Finally their\ninstitution, after vainly attempting to unite with the Brothers of the\nChristian Doctrine, ceased to exist in 1745.\n\nMgr. de Laval so greatly admired the devotion of these worthy men that\nhe exclaimed one day: \"Let me die in the house of these Brothers; it is\na work plainly inspired by God. I shall die content if only in dying I\nmay contribute something to the shaping or maintenance of this\nestablishment.\" Again he wrote: \"The good M. Charron gave us last year\none of their Brothers, who rendered great service to the Mississippi\nMission, and he has furnished us another this year. These acquisitions\nwill spare the missionaries much labour.... I beg you to show full\ngratitude to this worthy servant of God, who is as affectionately\ninclined to the missions and missionaries as if he belonged to our body.\nWe have even the plan, as well as he, of forming later a community of\ntheir Brothers to aid the missions and accompany the missionaries on\ntheir journeys. He goes to France and as far as Paris to find and bring\nback with him some good recruits to aid him in forming a community.\nRender him all the services you can, as if it were to missionaries\nthemselves. He is a true servant of God.\" Such testimony is the fairest\ntitle to glory for an institution.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[10] A respectfully familiar sobriquet given to Mgr. de Laval.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nLAST YEARS OF MGR. DE LAVAL\n\n\nIllness had obliged Mgr. de Laval to hand in his resignation. He wrote,\nin fact, at this period of his life to M. de Denonville: \"I have been\nfor the last two years subject to attacks of vertigo accompanied by\nheart troubles which are very frequent and increase markedly. I have had\none quite recently, on the Monday of the Passion, which seized me at\nthree o'clock in the morning, and I could not raise my head from my\nbed.\" His infirmities, which he bore to the end with admirable\nresignation, especially affected his limbs, which he was obliged to\nbandage tightly every morning, and which could scarcely bear the weight\nof his body. To disperse the unwholesome humours, his arm had been\ncauterized; to cut, carve and hack the poor flesh of humanity formed, as\nwe know, the basis of the scientific and medical equipment of the\nperiod. These sufferings, which he brought as a sacrifice to our Divine\nMaster, were not sufficient for him; he continued in spite of them to\nwear upon his body a coarse hair shirt. He had to serve him only one of\nthose Brothers who devoted their labour to the seminary in exchange for\ntheir living and a place at table. This modest servant, named Houssart,\nhad replaced a certain Lemaire, of whom the prelate draws a very\ninteresting portrait in one of his letters: \"We must economize,\" he\nwrote to the priests of the seminary, \"and have only watchful and\nindustrious domestics. We must look after them, else they deteriorate in\nthe seminary. You have the example of the baker, Louis Lemaire, an\nidler, a gossip, a tattler, a man who, instead of walking behind the\ncoach, would not go unless Monseigneur paid for a carriage for him to\nfollow him to La Rochelle, and lent him his dressing-gown to protect him\nfrom the cold. Formerly he worked well at heavy labour at Cap Tourmente;\nidleness has ruined him in the seminary. As soon as he had reached my\nroom, he behaved like a man worn out, always complaining, coming to help\nme to bed only when the fancy took him; always extremely vain, thinking\nhe was not dressed according to his position, although he was clad, as\nyou know, more like a nobleman than a peasant, which he was, for I had\ntaken him as a beggar and almost naked at La Rochelle.... As soon as he\nentered my room he sat down, and rather than be obliged to pretend to\nsee him, I turned my seat so as not to see him.... We should have left\nthat man at heavy work, which had in some sort conquered his folly and\npride, and it is possible that he might have been saved. But he has been\nentirely ruined in the seminary....\" This humorous description proves to\nus well that even in the good old days not all domestics were perfect.\n\nThe affectionate and respectful care given by Houssart to his master\nwas such as is not bought with money. Most devoted to the prelate, he\nhas left us a very edifying relation of the life of the venerable\nbishop, with some touching details. He wrote after his death: \"Having\nhad the honour of being continually attached to the service of his\nLordship during the last twenty years of his holy life, and his Lordship\nhaving had during all that time a great charity towards me and great\nconfidence in my care, you cannot doubt that I contracted a great\nsympathy, interest and particular attachment for his Lordship.\" In\nanother letter he speaks to us of the submission of the venerable bishop\nto the commands of the Church. \"He did his best,\" he writes,\n\"notwithstanding his great age and continual infirmities, to observe all\ndays of abstinence and fasting, both those which are commanded by Holy\nChurch and those which are observed from reasons of devotion in the\nseminary, and if his Lordship sometimes yielded in this matter to the\ncommand of the physicians and the entreaties of the superiors of the\nseminary, who deemed that he ought not to fast, it was a great\nmortification for him, and it was only out of especial charity to his\ndear seminary and the whole of Canada that he yielded somewhat to nature\nin order not to die so soon....\"\n\nNever, in spite of his infirmities, would the prelate fail to be present\non Sunday at the cathedral services. When it was impossible for him to\ngo on foot, he had himself carried. His only outings towards the end of\nhis life consisted in his visits to the cathedral or in short walks\nalong the paths of his garden. Whenever his health permitted, he loved\nto be present at the funerals of those who died in the town; those\nconsolations which he deigned to give to the afflicted families bear\nwitness to the goodness of his heart. \"It was something admirable,\" says\nHoussart, \"to see, firstly, his assiduity in being present at the burial\nof all who died in Quebec, and his promptness in offering the holy\nsacrifice of the mass for the repose of their souls, as soon as he had\nlearned of their decease; secondly, his devotion in receiving and\npreserving the blessed palms, in kissing his crucifix, the image of the\nHoly Virgin, which he carried always upon him, and placed at nights\nunder his pillow, his badge of servitude and his scapulary which he\ncarried also upon him; thirdly, his respect and veneration for the\nrelics of the saints, the pleasure which he took in reading every day in\nthe _Lives of the Saints_, and in conversing of their heroic deeds;\nfourthly, the holy and constant use which he made of holy water, taking\nit wherever he might be in the course of the day and every time he awoke\nin the night, coming very often from his garden to his room expressly to\ntake it, carrying it upon him in a little silver vessel, which he had\nhad made purposely, when he went to the country. His Lordship had so\ngreat a desire that every one should take it that he exercised\nparticular care in seeing every day whether the vessels of the church\nwere supplied with it, to fill them when they were empty; and during the\nwinter, for fear that the vessels should freeze too hard and the people\ncould not take any as they entered and left the church, he used to bring\nthem himself every evening and place them by our stove, and take them\nback at four o'clock in the morning when he went to open the doors.\"\n\nWith a touching humility the pious old man scrupulously conformed to the\nrules of the seminary and to the orders of the superior of the house.\nOnly a few days before his death, he experienced such pain that Brother\nHoussart declared his intention of going and asking from the superior of\nthe seminary a dispensation for the sick man from being present at the\nservices. At once the patient became silent; in spite of his tortures\nnot a complaint escaped his lips. It was Holy Wednesday: it was\nimpossible to be absent on that day from religious ceremonies. We do not\nknow which to admire most in such an attitude, whether the piety of the\nprelate or his submission to the superior of the seminary, since he\nwould have been resigned if he had been forbidden to go to church, or,\nfinally, his energy in stifling the groans which suffering wrenched from\nhis physical nature. Few saints carried mortification and renunciation\nof terrestrial good as far as he. \"He is certainly the most austere man\nin the world and the most indifferent to worldly advantage,\" wrote\nMother Mary of the Incarnation. \"He gives away everything and lives like\na pauper; and we may truly say that he has the very spirit of poverty.\nIt is not he who will make friends for worldly advancement and to\nincrease his revenue; he is dead to all that.... He practises this\npoverty in his house, in his living, in his furniture, in his servants,\nfor he has only one gardener, whom he lends to the poor when they need\none, and one valet....\" This picture falls short of the truth. For forty\nyears he arose at two o'clock in the morning, summer and winter: in his\nlast years illness could only wrest from him one hour more of repose,\nand he arose then at three o'clock. As soon as he was dressed, he\nremained at prayer till four and then went to church. He opened the\ndoors himself, and rang the bells for mass, which he said, half an hour\nlater, especially for the poor workmen, who began their day by this\npious exercise.\n\nHis thanksgiving after the holy sacrifice lasted till seven o'clock, and\nyet, even in the greatest cold of the severe Canadian winter, he had\nnothing to warm his frozen limbs but the brazier which he had used to\ncelebrate the mass. A good part of his day, and often of the night, when\nhis sufferings deprived him of sleep, was also devoted to prayer or\nspiritual reading, and nothing was more edifying than to see the pious\noctogenarian telling his beads or reciting his breviary while walking\nslowly through the paths of his garden. He was the first up and the last\nto retire, and whatever had been his occupations during the day, never\ndid he lie down without having scrupulously observed all the spiritual\noffices, readings or reciting of beads. It was not, however, that his\nfood gave him a superabundance of physical vigour, for the Trappists did\nnot eat more frugally than he. A soup, which he purposely spoiled by\ndiluting it amply with hot water, a little meat and a crust of very dry\nbread composed his ordinary fare, and dessert, even on feast days, was\nabsolutely banished from his table. \"For his ordinary drink,\" says\nBrother Houssart, \"he took only hot water slightly flavoured with wine;\nand every one knows that his Lordship never took either cordial or\ndainty wines, or any mixture of sweets of any sort whatever, whether to\ndrink or to eat, except that in his last years I succeeded in making him\ntake every evening after his broth, which was his whole supper, a piece\nof biscuit as large as one's thumb, in a little wine, to aid him to\nsleep. I may say without exaggeration that his whole life was one\ncontinual fast, for he took no breakfast, and every evening only a\nslight collation.... He used his whole substance in alms and pious\nworks; and when he needed anything, such as clothes, linen, etc., he\nasked it from the seminary like the humblest of his ecclesiastics. He\nwas most modest in matters of dress, and I had great difficulty in\npreventing him from wearing his clothes when they were old, dirty and\nmended. During twenty years he had but two winter cassocks, which he\nleft behind him on his death, the one still quite good, the other all\nthreadbare and mended. To be brief, there was no one in the seminary\npoorer in dress....\" Mgr. de Laval set an example of the principal\nvirtues which distinguish the saints; so he could not fail in that which\nour Lord incessantly recommends to His disciples, charity! He no longer\npossessed anything of his own, since he had at the outset abandoned his\npatrimony to his brother, and since later on he had given to the\nseminary everything in his possession. But charity makes one ingenious:\nby depriving himself of what was strictly necessary, could he not yet\ncome to the aid of his brothers in Jesus Christ? \"Never was prelate,\"\nsays his eulogist, M. de la Colombiere, \"more hostile to grandeur and\nexaltation.... In scorning grandeur, he triumphed over himself by a\npoverty worthy of the anchorites of the first centuries, whose rules he\nfaithfully observed to the end of his days. Grace had so thoroughly\nabsorbed in the heart of the prelate the place of the tendencies of our\ncorrupt nature that he seemed to have been born with an aversion to\nriches, pleasures and honours.... If you have noticed his dress, his\nfurniture and his table, you must be aware that he was a foe to pomp and\nsplendour. There is no village priest in France who is not better\nnourished, better clad and better lodged than was the Bishop of Quebec.\nFar from having an equipage suitable to his rank and dignity he had not\neven a horse of his own. And when, towards the end of his days, his\ngreat age and his infirmities did not allow him to walk, if he wished to\ngo out he had to borrow a carriage. Why this economy? In order to have a\nstorehouse full of garments, shoes and blankets, which he distributed\ngratuitously, with paternal kindness and prudence. This was a business\nwhich he never ceased to ply, in which he trusted only to himself, and\nwith which he concerned himself up to his death.\"\n\nThe charity of the prelate was boundless. Not only at the hospital of\nQuebec did he visit the poor and console them, but he even rendered them\nservices the most repugnant to nature. \"He has been seen,\" says M. de la\nColombiere, \"on a ship where he behaved like St. Francois-Xavier, where,\nministering to the sailors and the passengers, he breathed the bad air\nand the infection which they exhaled; he has been seen to abandon in\ntheir favour all his refreshments, and to give them even his bed, sheets\nand blankets. To administer the sacraments to them he did not fear to\nexpose his life and the lives of the persons who were most dear to him.\"\nWhen he thus attended the sick who were attacked by contagious fever, he\ndid his duty, even more than his duty; but when he went, without\nabsolute need, and shared in the repugnant cares which the most devoted\nservants of Christ in the hospitals undertake only after struggles and\nheroic victory over revolted nature he rose to sublimity. It was because\nhe saw in the poor the suffering members of the Saviour; to love the\npoor man, it is not enough to wish him well, we must respect him, and we\ncannot respect him as much as any child of God deserves without seeing\nin him the image of Jesus Christ himself. No one acquires love for God\nwithout being soon wholly enkindled by it; thus it was no longer\nsufficient for Mgr. de Laval to instruct and console the poor and the\nsick, he served them also in the most abject duties, going as far as to\nwash with his own hands their sores and ulcers. A madman, the world will\nsay; why not content one's self with attending those people without\nindulging in the luxury of heroism so repugnant? This would have\nsufficed indeed to relieve nature, but would it have taught those\nincurable and desperate cases that they were the first friends of Jesus\nChrist, that the Church looked upon them as its jewels, and that their\nfate from the point of view of eternity was enviable to all? It would\nhave relieved without consoling and raising the poor man to the height\nwhich belongs to him in Christian society. Official assistance, with the\nbest intentions in the world, the most ingenious organization and the\nmost perfect working, can, however, never be charity in the perfectly\nChristian sense of this word. If it could allay all needs and heal all\nsores it would still have accomplished only half of the task: relieving\nthe body without reaching the soul. And man does not live by bread\nalone. He who has been disinherited of the boons of fortune, family and\nhealth, he who is incurable and who despairs of human joys needs\nsomething else besides the most comfortable hospital room that can be\nimagined; he needs the words which fell from the lips of God: \"Blessed\nare the poor, blessed are they that suffer, blessed are they that\nmourn.\" He needs a pitying heart, a tender witness to indigence nobly\nborne, a respectful friend of his misfortune, still more than that, a\nworshipper of Jesus hidden in the persons of the poor, the orphan and\nthe sick. They have become rare in the world, these real friends of the\npoor; the more assistance has become organized, the more charity seems\nto have lost its true nature; and perhaps we might find in this state of\nthings a radical explanation for those implacable social antagonisms,\nthose covetous desires, those revolts followed by endless repression,\nwhich bring about revolutions, and by them all manner of tyranny. Let us\nfirst respect the poor, let us love them, let us sincerely admire their\ncondition as one ennobled by God, if we wish them to become reconciled\nwith Him, and reconciled with the world. When the rich man is a\nChristian, generous and respectful of the poor, when he practises the\nvirtues which most belong to his social position, the poor man is very\nnear to conforming to those virtues which Providence makes his more\nimmediate duty, humility, obedience, resignation to the will of God and\ntrust in Him and in those who rule in His name. The solution of the\ngreat social problem lies, as it seems to us, in the spiritual love of\nthe poor. Outside of this, there is only the heathen slave below, and\ntyranny above with all its terrors. That is what religious enthusiasm\nforesaw in centuries less well organized but more religious than ours.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nDEATH OF MGR. DE LAVAL\n\n\nThe end of a great career was now approaching. In the summer of 1707, a\nlong and painful illness nearly carried Mgr. de Laval away, but he\nrecovered, and convalescence was followed by manifest improvement. This\nsoul which, like the lamp of the sanctuary, was consumed in the\ntabernacle of the Most High, revived suddenly at the moment of emitting\nits last gleams, then suddenly died out in final brilliance. The\nimprovement in the condition of the venerable prelate was ephemeral; the\nillness which had brought him to the threshold of the tomb proved fatal\nsome weeks later. He died in the midst of his labours, happy in proving\nby the very origin of the disease which brought about his death, his\ngreat love for the Saviour. It was, in fact, in prolonging on Good\nFriday his pious stations in his chilly church (for our ancestors did\nnot heat their churches, even in seasons of rigorous cold), that he\nreceived in his heel the frost-bite of which he died. Such is the name\nthe writers of the time give to this sore; in our days, when science has\ndefined certain maladies formerly misunderstood, it is permissible to\nsuppose that this so-called frost-bite was nothing else than diabetic\ngangrene. No illusion could be cherished, and the venerable old man,\nwho had not, so to speak, passed a moment of his existence without\nthinking of death, needed to adapt himself to the idea less than any one\nelse. In order to have nothing more to do than to prepare for his last\nhour he hastened to settle a question which concerned his seminary: he\nreduced definitely to eight the number of pensions which he had\nestablished in it in 1680. This done, it remained for him now only to\nsuffer and die. The ulcer increased incessantly and the continual pains\nwhich he felt became atrocious when it was dressed. His intolerable\nsufferings drew from him, nevertheless, not cries and complaints, but\noutpourings of love for God. Like Saint Vincent de Paul, whom the\ntortures of his last malady could not compel to utter other words than\nthese: \"Ah, my Saviour! my good Saviour!\" Mgr. de Laval gave vent to\nthese words only: \"O, my God! have pity on me! O God of Mercy!\" and this\ncry, the summary of his whole life: \"Let Thy holy will be done!\" One of\nthe last thoughts of the dying man was to express the sentiment of his\nwhole life, humility. Some one begged him to imitate the majority of the\nsaints, who, on their death-bed, uttered a few pious words for the\nedification of their spiritual children. \"They were saints,\" he replied,\n\"and I am a sinner.\" A speech worthy of Saint Vincent de Paul, who,\nabout to appear before God, replied to the person who requested his\nblessing, \"It is not for me, unworthy wretch that I am, to bless you.\"\nThe fervour with which he received the last sacraments aroused the\nadmiration of all the witnesses of this supreme hour. They almost\nexpected to see this holy soul take flight for its celestial mansion. As\nsoon as the prayers for the dying had been pronounced, he asked to have\nthe chaplets of the Holy Family recited, and during the recitation of\nthis prayer he gave up his soul to his Creator. It was then half-past\nseven in the morning, and the sixth day of the month consecrated to the\nHoly Virgin, whom he had so loved (May, 1708).\n\nIt was with a quiver of grief which was felt in all hearts throughout\nthe colony that men learned the fatal news. The banks of the great river\nrepeated this great woe to the valleys; the sad certainty that the\nfather of all had disappeared forever sowed desolation in the homes of\nthe rich as well as in the thatched huts of the poor. A cry of pain, a\ndeep sob arose from the bosom of Canada which would not be consoled,\nbecause its incomparable bishop was no more! Etienne de Citeaux said to\nhis monks after the death of his holy predecessor: \"Alberic is dead to\nour eyes, but he is not so to the eyes of God, and dead though he appear\nto us, he lives for us in the presence of the Lord; for it is peculiar\nto the saints that when they go to God through death, they bear their\nfriends with them in their hearts to preserve them there forever.\" This\nis our dearest desire; the friends of the venerable prelate were and\nstill are to-day his own Canadians: may he remain to the end of the\nages our protector and intercessor with God!\n\nThere were attributed to Mgr. de Laval, according to Latour and Brother\nHoussart, and a witness who would have more weight, M. de Glandelet, a\npriest of the seminary of Quebec, whose account was unhappily lost, a\ngreat number of miraculous cures. Our purpose is not to narrate them; we\nhave desired to repeat only the wonders of his life in order to offer a\npattern and encouragement to all who walk in his steps, and in order to\npay the debt of gratitude which we owe to the principal founder of the\nCatholic Church in our country.\n\nThe body of Mgr. de Laval lay in state for three days in the chapel of\nthe seminary, and there was an immense concourse of the people about his\nmortuary bed, rather to invoke him than to pray for his soul. His\ncountenance remained so beautiful that one would have thought him\nasleep; that imposing brow so often venerated in the ceremonies of the\nChurch preserved all its majesty. But alas! that aristocratic hand,\nwhich had blessed so many generations, was no longer to raise the\npastoral ring over the brows of bowing worshippers; that eloquent mouth\nwhich had for half a century preached the gospel was to open no more;\nthose eyes with look so humble but so straightforward were closed\nforever! \"He is regretted by all as if death had carried him off in the\nflower of his age,\" says a chronicle of the time, \"it is because virtue\ndoes not grow old.\" The obsequies of the prelate were celebrated with a\npomp still unfamiliar in the colony; the body, clad in the pontifical\nornaments, was carried on the shoulders of priests through the different\nreligious edifices of Quebec before being interred. All the churches of\nthe country celebrated solemn services for the repose of the soul of the\nfirst Bishop of New France. Placed in a leaden coffin, the revered\nremains were sepulchred in the vaults of the cathedral, but the heart of\nMgr. de Laval was piously kept in the chapel of the seminary, and later,\nin 1752, was transported into the new chapel of this house. The funeral\norations were pronounced, which recalled with eloquence and talent the\nservices rendered by the venerable deceased to the Church, to France and\nto Canada. One was delivered by M. de la Colombiere, archdeacon and\ngrand vicar of the diocese of Quebec; the other by M. de Belmont, grand\nvicar and superior of St. Sulpice at Montreal.\n\nThose who had the good fortune to be present in the month of May, 1878,\nat the disinterment of the remains of the revered pontiff and at their\nremoval to the chapel of the seminary where, according to his\nintentions, they repose to-day, will recall still with emotion the pomp\nwhich was displayed on this solemn occasion, and the fervent joy which\nwas manifested among all classes of society. An imposing procession\nconveyed them, as at the time of the seminary obsequies, to the\nUrsulines; from the convent of the Ursulines to the Jesuit Fathers',\nnext to the Congregation of St. Patrick, to the Hotel-Dieu, and finally\nto the cathedral, where a solemn service was sung in the presence of the\napostolic legate, Mgr. Conroy. The Bishop of Sherbrooke, M. Antoine\nRacine, pronounced the eulogy of the first prelate of the colony.\n\nThe remains of Mgr. de Laval rested then in peace under the choir of the\nchapel of the seminary behind the principal altar. On December 16th,\n1901, the vault was opened by order of the commission entrusted by the\nHoly See with the conduct of the apostolic investigation into the\nvirtues and miracles _in specie_ of the founder of the Church in Canada.\nThe revered remains, which were found in a perfect state of\npreservation, were replaced in three coffins, one of glass, the second\nof oak, and the third of lead, and lowered into the vault. The opening\nwas closed by a brick wall, well cemented, concealed between two iron\ngates. There they rest until, if it please God to hear the prayers of\nthe Catholic population of our country, they may be placed upon the\naltars. This examination of the remains of the venerable prelate was the\nlast act in his apostolic ordeal, for we are aware with what precaution\nthe Church surrounds herself and with what prudence she scrutinizes the\nmost minute details before giving a decision in the matter of\ncanonization. The documents in the case of Mgr. de Laval have been sent\nto the secretary of the Sacred Congregation of Rites at Rome; and from\nthere will come to us, let us hope, the great news of the canonization\nof the first Bishop of New France.\n\nSleep your sleep, revered prelate, worthy son of crusaders and noble\nsuccessor of the apostles. Long and laborious was your task, and you\nhave well merited your repose beneath the flagstones of your seminary.\nLong will the sons of future generations go there to spell out your\nname,--the name of an admirable pastor, and, as the Church will tell us\ndoubtless before long, of a saint.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\nA\n\nAilleboust, M. d', governor of New France, 8\n\nAlbanel, Father, missionary to the Indians at Hudson Bay, 11, 103\n\nAlexander VII, Pope, appoints Laval apostolic vicar with the title of\n Bishop of Petraea _in partibus_, 7, 26;\n petitioned by the king to erect an episcopal see in Quebec, 131;\n wants the new diocese to be an immediate dependency of the Holy See, 133\n\nAlexander of Rhodes, Father, 23\n\nAlgonquin Indians, 2, 9, 11\n\nAllard, Father, Superior of the Recollets in the province of\n St. Denis, 109, 110\n\nAllouez, Father Claude, 11;\n addresses the mission at Sault Ste. Marie, 104\n\nAnahotaha, Huron chief, joins Dollard, 69, 71\n\nAndros, Sir Edmund, governor of New England, 173\n\nArgenson, Governor d', 29;\n his continual friction with Laval, 34;\n disapproves of the retreat of Captain Dupuis from the mission of\n Gannentaha, 67\n\nArnaud, Father, accompanies La Verendrye as far as the Rocky Mountains, 11\n\nAssise, Francois d', founder of the Franciscans, 18\n\nAubert, M., on the French-Canadians, 118, 119\n\nAuteuil, Denis Joseph Ruette d', solicitor-general of the Sovereign\n Council, 167\n\nAvaugour, Governor d', withdraws his opposition to the liquor trade and\n is recalled, 38-40;\n his last report, 40;\n references, 10, 28\n\n\nB\n\nBagot, Father, head of the college of La Fleche, 20\n\nBailly, Francois, directs the building of the Notre-Dame Church, 88\n\nBancroft, George, historian, quoted, 4, 5, 152, 153\n\nBeaudoncourt, Jacques de, quoted, 39;\n describes the escape of the Gannentaha mission from the massacre of\n 1658, 66, 67\n\nBeaumont, Hardouin de Perefixe de, Archbishop of Paris, 134\n\nBelmont, M. de, his charitable works, 135, 136;\n preaches Laval's funeral oration, 265\n\nBernieres, Henri de, first superior of the Quebec seminary, 55, 56;\n entrusted with Laval's duties during his absence, 134, 143, 162;\n appointed dean of the chapter established by Laval, 197;\n his death, 239\n\nBernieres, Jean de, his religious retreat at Caen, 24, 25;\n referred to, 33, 34\n\nBerthelot, M., rents the abbey of Lestrees from Laval, 138;\n exchanges Ile Jesus for the Island of Orleans, 138\n\nBishop of Petraea, see _Laval-Montmorency_\n\nBouchard, founder of the house of Montmorency, 16\n\nBoucher, governor of Three Rivers, 29\n\nBoudon, Abbe Henri-Marie, archdeacon of the Cathedral of Evreux, 23\n\nBourdon, solicitor-general, 79\n\nBourgard, Mgr., quoted, 61\n\nBourgeoys, Sister Marguerite, founds a school in Montreal which grows\n into the Ville-Marie Convent, 9, 126;\n on board the plague-stricken _St. Andre_, 31, 32;\n as a teacher, 91, 92, 156;\n through her efforts the church of Notre-Dame de Bonsecours is\n erected, 177, 178\n\nBouteroue, M. de, commissioner during Talon's absence, 116\n\nBrebeuf, Father, his persecution and death, 5, 16, 62\n\nBretonvilliers, M. de, superior of St. Sulpice, 88, 89, 135, 162\n\nBriand, Mgr., Bishop of Quebec, 12\n\nBizard, Lieutenant, dispatched by Frontenac to arrest the law-breakers\n and insulted by Perrot, 160\n\nBrothers of the Christian Doctrine, the, 125\n\nBrulon, Jean Gauthier de, confessor of the chapter established\n by Laval, 197\n\n\nC\n\nCaen, the town of, 24\n\nCallieres, Chevalier de, governor of Montreal, 214;\n lays before the king a plan to conquer New York, 218;\n at Quebec when attacked by Phipps, 229;\n makes peace with the Indians, 235;\n his death, 235\n\nCanons, the duties of, 196, 197\n\nCarignan Regiment, the, 53, 77, 79, 114\n\nCarion, M. Philippe de, 88\n\nCataraqui, Fort (Kingston), built by Frontenac and later called after\n him, 84, 145;\n conceded to La Salle, 145\n\nCathedral of Quebec, the, 84, 85\n\nChampigny, M. de, commissioner, replaces Meulles, 204, 215\n\nChamplain, Samuel de, governor of New France and founder\n of Quebec, 4, 8, 12\n\nCharlevoix, Pierre Francois Xavier de, on colonization, 117, 118;\n his portrait of Frontenac, 144, 145\n\nCharron Brothers, the, make an unsuccessful attempt to establish a\n charitable house in Montreal, 125, 245-8\n\nChateau St. Louis, 112, 160, 163\n\nChaumonot, Father, 65;\n the head of the Brotherhood of the Holy Family, 86, 87\n\nChevestre, Francoise de, wife of Jean-Louis de Laval, 139\n\nClement X, Pope, 133;\n signs the bulls establishing the diocese of Quebec, 136\n\nClosse, Major, 8, 92\n\nColbert, Louis XIV's prime minister, 52;\n a letter from Villeray to, 77, 78;\n opposes Talon's immigration plans, 80;\n receives a letter from Talon, 107;\n Talon's proposals to, 115;\n a dispatch from Frontenac to, 161;\n reproves Frontenac's overbearing conduct, 165;\n asks for proof of the evils of the liquor traffic, 170, 171\n\nCollege de Clermont, 21, 22\n\nCollege of Montreal, the, 124, 125\n\nColombiere, M. de la, quoted, 23, 256, 257\n\nCompany of Montreal, the, 25;\n its financial obligations taken up by the Seminary of St. Sulpice, 135\n\nCompany of Notre-Dame of Montreal, 85, 108, 127, 189\n\nCompany of the Cent-Associes, founded by Richelieu, 4;\n incapable of colonizing New France, abandons it to the royal\n government, 40, 41;\n assists the missionaries, 50;\n a portion of its obligations undertaken by the West India Company, 145\n\nConsistorial Congregation of Rome, the, 132\n\nCouillard, Madame, the house of, 58\n\nCourcelles, M. de, appointed governor in de Mezy's place, 51;\n acts as godfather to Garakontie, Indian chief, 65;\n an instance of his firmness, 82, 83;\n meets the Indian chiefs at Cataraqui, and gains their approval of\n building a fort there, 84;\n succeeded by Frontenac, 84;\n lays the corner-stone of the Notre-Dame Church in Montreal, 88;\n returns to France, 143\n\n_Coureurs de bois_, the, 158, 159\n\nCrevecoeur, Fort, 148, 149\n\n\nD\n\nDablon, Father, 11, 62, 65;\n describes Laval's visit to the Prairie de la Madeleine, 74, 75;\n quoted, 103, 140\n\nDamours, M., member of the Sovereign Council, 158, 166;\n imprisoned by Frontenac, 167\n\nDaniel, Father, his death, 5\n\nDenonville, Marquis de, succeeds de la Barre, 193, 202, 204;\n urges Laval's return to Canada, 213;\n his expedition against the Iroquois, 214-16;\n seizes Indian chiefs to serve on the king's galleys, 214, 215;\n builds a fort at Niagara, 216;\n recalled, 218\n\nDequen, Father, 32, 33\n\nDollard, makes a brave stand against the Iroquois, 39, 68-72, 75 (note)\n\nDollier de Casson, superior of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, 11;\n at the laying of the first stone of the Church of Notre-Dame, 89;\n preaching on the shores of Lake Erie, 108;\n joined by La Salle, 148;\n speaks of the liquor traffic, 175;\n at Quebec, 190\n\nDongan, Colonel Thomas, governor of New York, urges the Iroquois to\n strife, 185, 191, 213, 216\n\nDosquet, Mgr. de, Bishop of Quebec, 12\n\nDruilletes, Father, 11\n\nDuchesneau, intendant, his disputes with Frontenac upon the question of\n President of the Council, 166, 167;\n recalled, 168, 185;\n asked by Colbert for proof of the evils of the liquor traffic, 170, 171;\n instructed by the king to avoid discord with La Barre, 186, 187\n\nDudouyt, Jean, director of the Quebec seminary, 55, 56, 134, 143, 163;\n his mission to France in relation to the liquor traffic, 171;\n grand cantor of the chapter established by Laval, 197;\n his death, 219;\n burial of his heart in Quebec, 219\n\nDupont, M., member of the Sovereign Council, 158, 166\n\nDupuis, Captain, commander of the mission at Gannentaha, 65;\n how he saved the mission from the general massacre of 1658, 65-7\n\n\nE\n\nEarthquake of 1663, 42-5;\n its results, 45, 46\n\n\nF\n\nFamine Creek, 193, 217\n\nFenelon, Abbe de, see _Salignac-Fenelon_\n\nFerland, Abbe, quoted, 35;\n on the education of the Indians, 63, 64;\n his tribute to Mother Mary of the Incarnation, 93-5;\n on Talon's ambitions, 114;\n quoted, 130;\n his opinion of the erection of an episcopal see at Quebec, 133;\n on the union of the Quebec Seminary with that of the Foreign Missions\n in Paris, 140;\n on La Salle's misfortunes, 149;\n quoted, 155;\n praises Laval's stand against the liquor traffic, 173;\n on Laval's return to Canada, 220\n\nFive Nations, the, sue for peace, 53;\n missions to, 65;\n references, 217, 223, 234\n\nFrench-Canadians, their physical and moral qualities, 118, 119;\n habits and dress, 120;\n houses, 120, 121;\n as hunters, 121, 122\n\nFrontenac, Fort, 84, 215, 217, 223\n\nFrontenac, Louis de Buade, Count de, governor of Canada, 16;\n builds Fort Cataraqui, 84, 145;\n succeeds Courcelles, 84, 143;\n his disputes with Duchesneau, 112, 166, 167;\n early career, 144;\n Charlevoix's portrait of, 144, 145;\n orders Perrot's arrest, 160;\n his quarrel with the Abbe de Fenelon, 160-5;\n reproved by the king for his absolutism, 164, 165;\n his recall, 168, 185;\n succeeds in having permanent livings established, 181;\n again appointed governor, 218, 228;\n carries on a guerilla warfare with the Iroquois, 228, 229;\n defends Quebec against Phipps, 129-31;\n attacks the Iroquois, 233, 234;\n his death, 234\n\n\nG\n\nGallinee, Brehan de, Sulpician priest, 11, 105, 108, 148\n\nGannentaha, the mission at, 65;\n how it escaped the general massacre of 1658, 65-7\n\nGarakontie, Iroquois chief, his conversion, 65;\n his death, 73, 74\n\nGarnier, Father Charles, his death, 5\n\nGarreau, Father, 11\n\nGaudais-Dupont, M., 41\n\nGlandelet, Charles, 141, 197, 218;\n in charge of the diocese during Saint-Vallier's absence, 243\n\nGosselin, Abbe, quoted, 35;\n his explanation of Laval's _mandement_, 49, 50;\n quoted, 58, 59;\n on the question of permanent livings, 169, 170\n\n\nH\n\nHarlay, Mgr. de, Archbishop of Rouen, opposes Laval's petition for an\n episcopal see at Quebec, 133;\n called to the see of Paris, 134;\n his death, 184\n\nHermitage, the, a religious retreat, 24, 25\n\nHotel-Dieu Hospital (Montreal), established by Mlle. Mance, 8\n\nHotel-Dieu, Sisters of the, 33, 210, 236\n\nHoussart, Laval's servant, 250, 251, 252, 253, 255, 264\n\nHudson Bay, explored by Father Albanel, 11, 103;\n English forts on, captured by Troyes, 204, 214;\n Iberville's expedition to, 233\n\nHurons, the, 2, 3, 4, 5, 9, 39;\n forty of them join Dollard, 69;\n but betray him, 70, 71;\n they suffer a well-deserved fate, 72\n\n\nI\n\nIberville, Le Moyne d', takes part in an expedition to capture Hudson\n Bay, 204, 233;\n attacks the English settlements in Newfoundland, 233;\n explores the mouths of the Mississippi, founds the city of Mobile, and\n becomes the first governor of Louisiana, 233;\n his death, 233\n\nIle Jesus, 58, 185, 189\n\nIllinois Indians, 148\n\nInnocent XI, Pope, 201\n\nIroquois, the, 2;\n their attacks on the missions, 5;\n persecute the missionaries, 8;\n conclude a treaty of peace with de Tracy which lasts eighteen\n years, 54, 82;\n their contemplated attack on the mission of Gannentaha, 65;\n make an attack upon Quebec, 67-72;\n threaten to re-open their feud with the Ottawas, 83;\n urged to war by Dongan, 185, 191;\n massacre the tribes allied to the French, 191;\n descend upon the colony, 191, 192;\n La Barre's expedition against, 193;\n Denonville's expedition against, 214;\n several seized to serve on the king's galleys, 214, 215;\n their massacre of Lachine, 224-7\n\n\nJ\n\nJesuits, the, their entry into New France, 1;\n their self-sacrificing labours, 4;\n in possession of all the missions of New France, 25;\n as educators, 63;\n their devotion to the Virgin Mary, 85;\n religious zeal, 109;\n provide instruction for the colonists, 124;\n at the defence of Quebec, 230;\n shelter the seminarists after the fire, 240, 241\n\nJoliet, Louis, with Marquette, explores the upper part of the\n Mississippi, 11, 59, 82, 146, 153\n\nJogues, Father, his persecution and death, 5, 62, 65\n\nJuchereau, Sister, quoted, 240, 241\n\n\nK\n\nKingston, see _Cataraqui_\n\nKondiaronk (the Rat), Indian chief, his duplicity upsets peace\n negotiations with the Iroquois, 216-18;\n his death, 235\n\n\nL\n\nLa Barre, Lefebvre de, replaces Frontenac as governor, 168, 185;\n holds an assembly at Quebec to inquire into the affairs\n of the colony, 190;\n demands reinforcements, 191;\n his useless expedition against the Iroquois, 193;\n his recall, 193\n\nLa Chaise, Father, confessor to Louis XIV, 174, 238\n\nLa Chesnaie, M. Aubert de, 186\n\nLachesnaie, village, massacred by the Iroquois, 228\n\nLachine, 116, 147, 148;\n the massacre of, 225-7\n\nLa Fleche, the college of, 19, 20\n\nLalemant, Father Gabriel, his persecution and death, 5, 62;\n his account of the great earthquake, 42-5;\n references, 16, 35, 38\n\nLamberville, Father, describes the death of Garakontie,\n Indian chief, 74, 215\n\nLa Montagne, the mission of, at Montreal, 9, 74, 125\n\nLa Mouche, Huron Indian, deserts Dollard, 71\n\nLanjuere, M. de, quoted, 24, 135\n\nLa Rochelle, 26, 77, 114, 116, 202, 219\n\nLa Salle, Cavelier de, 16, 116;\n Fort Cataraqui conceded to, 145;\n his birth, 147;\n comes to New France, 147;\n establishes a trading-post at Lachine, 147, 148;\n starts on his expedition to the Mississippi, 148;\n returns to look after his affairs at Fort Frontenac, 149;\n back to Crevecoeur and finds it deserted, 149;\n descends the Mississippi, 150;\n raises a cross on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico and takes possession\n in the name of the King of France, 151;\n spends a year in establishing trading-posts among the Illinois, 151;\n visits France, 151;\n his misfortunes, 152;\n is murdered by one of his servants, 152;\n Bancroft's appreciation of, 152, 153;\n his version of the Abbe de Fenelon's sermon, 160, 161\n\nLatour, Abbe de, quoted, 33;\n on the liquor question, 36-8;\n _re_ the Sovereign Council, 40;\n describes the characteristics of the young colonists, 100;\n on Laval, 187, 188, 264\n\nLauson-Charny, M. de, director of the Quebec Seminary, 55, 134\n\nLaval, Anne Charlotte de, only sister of Bishop Laval, 19\n\nLaval, Fanchon (Charles-Francois-Guy), nephew of the bishop, 140\n\nLaval, Henri de, brother of Bishop Laval, 19, 21, 139, 141\n\nLaval, Hugues de, Seigneur of Montigny, etc., father of Bishop Laval, 17;\n his death, 18\n\nLaval, Jean-Louis de, receives the bishop's inheritance, 19, 21, 22, 139\n\nLaval-Montmorency, Francois de, first Bishop of Quebec, his birth and\n ancestors, 17;\n death of his father, 18;\n his education, 19-21;\n death of his two brothers, 21;\n his mother begs him, on becoming the head of the family, to abandon his\n ecclesiastical career, 21;\n renounces his inheritance in favour of his brother Jean-Louis, 21, 22;\n his ordination, 22;\n appointed archdeacon of the Cathedral of Evreux, 22;\n spends fifteen months in Rome, 23;\n three years in the religious retreat of M. de Bernieres, 24, 25;\n embarks for New France with the title of Bishop of Petraea\n _in partibus_, 26;\n disputes his authority with the Abbe de Queylus, 27, 28;\n given the entire jurisdiction of Canada, 28;\n his personality and appearance, 28, 29;\n his devotion to the plague-stricken, 33;\n private life, 33, 34;\n friction with d'Argenson on questions of precedence, 34;\n opposes the liquor trade with the savages, 36-9;\n carries an appeal to the throne against the liquor traffic, 39;\n returns to Canada, 41;\n his efforts to establish a seminary at Quebec, 47-50;\n obtains an ordinance from the king granting the seminary permission to\n collect tithes, 50;\n receives letters from Colbert and the king, 52, 53;\n takes up his abode in the seminary, 55;\n his pastoral visits, 74, 75, 87;\n founds the smaller seminary in 1668, 97-9;\n his efforts to educate the colonists, 97-100, 124;\n builds the first sanctuary of Sainte Anne, 101;\n his ardent desire for more missionaries is granted, 104, 105;\n his advice to the missionaries, 105-7;\n receives a letter from the king _re_ the Recollet priests, 110;\n created Bishop of Quebec (1674), 129;\n his reasons for demanding the title of Bishop of Quebec, 130, 131;\n visits the abbeys of Maubec and Lestrees, 138;\n leases the abbey of Lestrees to M. Berthelot, 138;\n exchanges the Island of Orleans for Ile Jesus, 138;\n visits his family, 139;\n renews the union of his seminary with that of the Foreign Missions, 140;\n returns to Canada after four years absence, 141;\n ordered by the king to investigate the evils of the liquor\n traffic, 171, 172;\n leaves again for France (1678), 173;\n acquires from the king a slight restriction over the liquor traffic, 174;\n confers a favour on the priests of St. Sulpice, 175, 176;\n returns to Canada (1680), 184, 186;\n wills all that he possesses to his seminary, 185;\n makes a pastoral visit of his diocese, 189;\n his ill-health, 190;\n writes to the king for reinforcements, 191, 192;\n decides to carry his resignation in person to the king, 196;\n establishes a chapter, 197, 198;\n sails for France, 198;\n to remain titular bishop until the consecration of his successor, 201;\n returns to Canada, 202, 220;\n ill-health, 205;\n reproves Saint-Vallier's extravagance, 206;\n an appreciation of, by Saint-Vallier, 209;\n a letter from Father La Chaise to, 238, 239;\n officiates during Saint-Vallier's absence, 244;\n his last illness, 249-53, 261, 262;\n his death, 263;\n and burial, 264-6\n\nLaval University, 15, 99, 124\n\nLeber, Mlle. Jeanne, 91, 92\n\nLe Caron, Father, Recollet missionary, 3\n\nLejeune, Father, 25\n\nLemaitre, Father, put to death by the Iroquois, 8;\n ministers to the plague-stricken on board the _St. Andre_, 31, 32\n\n_Le Soleil d'Afrique_, 219\n\nLestrees, the abbey of, 136, 138, 185\n\nLiquor traffic, the, forbidden by the Sovereign Council, 36;\n opposed by Laval, 36-9;\n the Sovereign Council gives unrestricted sway to, 113;\n again restricted by the council, 115, 116;\n a much discussed question, 169-75\n\nLorette, the village of, 74\n\nLotbiniere, Louis Rene de, member of the Sovereign Council, 166\n\nLouis XIV of France, recalls d'Avaugour, and sends more troops\n to Canada, 39;\n writes to Laval, 52, 53;\n petitions the Pope for the erection of an episcopal see\n in Quebec, 131, 132;\n demands that the new diocese shall be dependent upon the metropolitan\n of Rouen, 132, 133;\n granted the right of nomination to the bishopric of Quebec, 136;\n his decree of 1673, 159, 160;\n reproves Frontenac for his absolutism, 164, 165;\n orders Frontenac to investigate the evils of the liquor\n traffic, 171, 172;\n forbids intoxicating liquors being carried to the savages in their\n dwellings or in the woods, 174;\n contributes to the maintenance of the priests in Canada, 182, 183;\n his efforts to keep the Canadian officials in harmony, 186, 187;\n sends reinforcements, 192;\n grants Laval an annuity for life, 201;\n at war again, 235\n\n\nM\n\nMaisonneuve, M. de, governor of Montreal, 8, 16, 92, 176\n\nMaizerets, M. Ange de, comes to Canada, 41;\n director of the Quebec seminary, 55, 56;\n accompanies Laval on a tour of his diocese, 189;\n archdeacon of the chapter established by Laval, 197;\n in charge of the diocese during Saint-Vallier's absence, 243\n\nMance, Mlle., establishes the Hotel-Dieu Hospital in Montreal, 8;\n on board the plague-stricken _St. Andre_, 31;\n at the laying of the first stone of the church of Notre-Dame, 89;\n her death, 89;\n her religious zeal, 91, 92\n\nMaricourt, Le Moyne de, 16;\n takes part in an expedition to capture Hudson Bay, 204\n\nMarquette, Father, with Joliet explores the upper part of the\n Mississippi, 11, 59, 82, 146, 153;\n his death, 146, 147\n\nMaubec, the abbey of, 131;\n incorporated with the diocese of Quebec, 136;\n a description of, 137\n\nMembre, Father, descends the Mississippi with La Salle, 149, 150, 151\n\nMesnu, Peuvret de, secretary of the Sovereign Council, 158, 166\n\nMetiomegue, Algonquin chief, joins Dollard, 69\n\nMeulles, M. de, replaces Duchesneau as commissioner, 168, 185;\n replaced by Champigny, 204\n\nMezy, Governor de, 10;\n succeeds d'Avaugour, 41;\n disagrees with the bishop, 51;\n his death, 51, 52\n\nMichilimackinac, 146, 149, 216\n\nMillet, Father, pays a tribute to Garakontie, 73, 215\n\nMississippi River, explored by Marquette and Joliet as far as the\n Arkansas River, 11, 59, 82, 146;\n La Salle descends to its mouth, 150, 151\n\nMonsipi, Fort (Hudson Bay), captured by the French, 204\n\nMontigny, Abbe de, one of Laval's early titles, 7, 19\n\nMontigny-sur-Avre, Laval's birthplace, 17\n\nMontmagny, M. de, governor of New France, 8\n\nMontmorency, Henri de, near kinsman of Laval, 18;\n beheaded by the order of Richelieu, 18\n\nMontreal, the Island of, 8, 86;\n made over to the Sulpicians, 108, 175;\n the parishes of, united with the Seminary of St. Sulpice, 175, 176, 183\n\nMontreal, the mission of La Montagne at, 9, 74;\n its first Roman Catholic church, 87-90;\n its religious zeal, 90-2;\n see also _Ville-Marie_\n\nMorel, Thomas, director of the Quebec seminary, 55, 101;\n his arrest, 163;\n set at liberty, 164;\n his death, 219\n\nMorin, M., quoted, 89, 90\n\nMornay, Mgr. de, Bishop of Quebec, 12\n\nMother Mary of the Incarnation, on Laval's devotion to the sick, 33;\n on his private life, 34, 254;\n on the results of the great earthquake, 45, 46;\n on the work of the Sisters, 79, 80;\n her religious zeal and fine qualities, 92, 93;\n Abbe Ferland's appreciation of, 93-5;\n speaks of the work of Abbe Fenelon and Father Trouve, 109;\n on the liquor traffic, 113;\n sums up Talon's merits, 114;\n speaks of the colonists' children, 119;\n on civilizing the Indians, 125, 126;\n an appreciation of, by Abbe Verreau, 127;\n her death, 154;\n her noble character, 155\n\nMouchy, M. de, member of the Sovereign Council, 158\n\n\nN\n\nNelson, Fort (Hudson Bay), held by the English against de Troyes'\n expedition, 204;\n captured by Iberville, 233\n\nNewfoundland, English settlements attacked by Iberville, 232\n\nNotre-Dame Church (Montreal), 87-90, 176\n\nNotre-Dame de Bonsecours, chapel (Montreal), 176-9\n\nNotre-Dame de Montreal, the parish of, 175, 176\n\nNotre-Dame des Victoires, church of, 185\n\nNoue, Father de, his death, 5\n\n\nO\n\nOblate Fathers, their entry into New France, 1\n\nOlier, M., founder of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, 5, 6, 25;\n places the Island of Montreal under the protection of the\n Holy Virgin, 8, 85;\n his death, 135;\n succeeded by Bretonvilliers, 162\n\nOnondagas, the, 67\n\nOttawa Indians, threaten to re-open their feud with the Iroquois, 83, 215\n\n\nP\n\nPallu, M., 23\n\nParkman, Francis, quoted, 34, 35\n\nPericard, Mgr. de, Bishop of Evreux, 21;\n his death, 22\n\nPericard, Michelle de, mother of Bishop Laval, 17;\n her death, 26\n\nPeltrie, Madame de la, 92;\n establishes the Ursuline Convent in Quebec, 125;\n a description of, by Abbe Casgrain, 153, 154;\n her death, 154\n\nPermanence of livings, a much discussed question, 169, 181, 184, 236\n\nPerrot, Francois Marie, governor of Montreal, 89;\n his anger at Bizard, 160;\n arrested by Frontenac, 160, 164\n\nPerrot, Nicholas, explorer, 82\n\nPeyras, M. de, member of the Sovereign Council, 166\n\nPhipps, Sir William, attacks Quebec, 11, 229-31\n\nPicquet, M., 23\n\nPlessis, Mgr., Bishop of Quebec, 13\n\nPommier, Hugues, comes to Canada, 41;\n director of the Quebec seminary, 55\n\nPontbriant, Mgr. de, Bishop of Quebec, 12\n\nPourroy de l'Aube-Riviere, Mgr., Bishop of Quebec, 12\n\nPrairie de la Madeleine, 74, 232\n\nPropaganda, the, 130, 131\n\nPrudhomme, Fort, erected by La Salle, 150\n\n\nQ\n\nQuebec, attacked by Phipps, 11, 229-31;\n the bishops of, 12;\n attacked by the Iroquois, 67-72;\n arrival of colonists (1665), 78, 79;\n the cathedral of, 84, 85;\n its religious fervour, 92;\n the Lower Town consumed by fire, 186;\n overwhelmed by disease and fire, 239\n\nQuebec Act, the, 13\n\nQueylus, Abbe de, Grand Vicar of Rouen for Canada, 7;\n comes to take possession of the Island of Montreal for the Sulpicians,\n and to establish a seminary, 8;\n disputes Laval's authority, 27;\n goes to France, 27;\n returns with bulls placing him in possession of the parish\n of Montreal, 28;\n suspended from office by Bishop Laval and recalled to France, 28;\n returns to the colony and is appointed grand vicar at Montreal, 28;\n his religious zeal, 92;\n his generosity, 107;\n returns to France, 134;\n his work praised by Talon, 134\n\n\nR\n\nRafeix, Father, comes to Canada, 41\n\nRecollets, the, their entry into New France, 1;\n refused permission to return to Canada after the Treaty of St.\n Germain-en-Laye, 3, 110;\n propose St. Joseph as the patron saint of Canada, 87;\n their popularity, 111, 112;\n build a monastery in Quebec, 112;\n espouse Frontenac's cause in his disputes with Duchesneau, 112;\n provide instruction for the colonists, 124;\n their establishment in Quebec, 208\n\n_Regale_, the question of the right of, 184, 201\n\nRibourde, Father de la, 149;\n killed by the Iroquois, 149, 150\n\nRichelieu, Cardinal, founds the Company of the Cent-Associes, 4;\n orders Henri de Montmorency to be beheaded, 18;\n referred to, 117\n\nRupert, Fort (Hudson Bay), captured by the French, 204\n\n\nS\n\nSagard, Father, Recollet missionary, 3\n\nSainte Anne, the Brotherhood of, 101\n\nSainte Anne, the first sanctuary of, built by Laval, 101;\n gives place to a stone church erected through the efforts\n of M. Filion, 102;\n a third temple built upon its site, 102;\n the present cathedral built (1878), 102;\n the pilgrimages to, 102, 103\n\nSainte-Helene, Andree Duplessis de, 92\n\nSainte-Helene, Le Moyne de, 16;\n takes part in an expedition to capture Hudson Bay, 204;\n his death at the siege of Quebec, 231\n\nSaint-Vallier, Abbe Jean Baptiste de la Croix de, king's almoner, 199;\n appointed provisionally grand vicar of Laval, 201;\n leaves a legacy to the seminary of Quebec, 202;\n embarks for Canada, 202;\n makes a tour of his diocese, 203, 204;\n his extravagance, 206;\n pays a tribute to Laval, 209;\n leaves for France, 210;\n obtains a grant for a Bishop's Palace, 211;\n his official appointment and consecration as Bishop of Quebec, 202, 219;\n returns to Canada, 221;\n opens a hospital in Notre-Dame des Anges, 236;\n in France from 1700 to 1705, when returning to Canada is captured by\n an English vessel and kept in captivity till 1710, 242, 243;\n the object of his visit to France, 243\n\n_St. Andre_, the, 27;\n the plague breaks out on board, 31, 32\n\nSte. Anne, Fort (Hudson Bay), captured by the French, 204\n\nSt. Bernardino of Siena, quoted, 35, 36\n\nSt. Francois-Xavier, adopted as the second special protector of\n the colony, 87\n\nSt. Ignace de Michilimackinac, La Salle's burying-place, 147\n\nSt. Joachim, the seminary of Quebec has a country house at, 12;\n the boarding-school at, established by Laval, 100, 124, 245;\n receives a remembrance from Laval, 199\n\nSt. Joseph, the first patron saint of Canada, 87\n\nSt. Malo, the Bishop of, 6, 7\n\nSt. Sulpice de Montreal, see _Seminary of St. Sulpice_\n\nSt. Sulpice, the priests of, see _Sulpicians_\n\nSalignac-Fenelon, Abbe Francois de, goes to the north shore of Lake\n Ontario to establish a mission, 105, 108;\n teaches the Iroquois, 125;\n his sermon preached against Frontenac, 160, 161;\n his quarrel with Frontenac, 160-5;\n forbidden to return to Canada, 164\n\nSault St. Louis (Caughnawaga), the mission of, 9, 74, 147, 189\n\nSault Ste. Marie, the mission of, 11;\n addressed by Father Allouez, 104\n\nSeignelay, Marquis de, Colbert's son, sends four shiploads of colonists\n to people Louisiana, 151, 152;\n postpones Laval's return to Canada, 211\n\nSeigniorial tenure, 119, 120\n\nSeminary, the, at Quebec, founded by Laval (1663), 10;\n the priests of, assist in defending Quebec against Phipps, 11, 12;\n Laval's ordinance relating to, 47, 48;\n its establishment receives the royal approval, 50;\n obtains permission to collect tithes from the colonists, 50;\n its first superior and directors, 55;\n affiliated with the Seminary of Foreign Missions at Paris, 57, 58;\n a smaller seminary built (1668), 58, 59, 97-9;\n the whole destroyed by fire (1701), 58, 240, 241;\n its union with the Seminary of Foreign Missions renewed, 140;\n receives a legacy from Saint-Vallier, 202;\n sends missionaries to Louisiana, 208;\n in financial difficulties, 211\n\nSeminary of Foreign Missions at Paris, affiliated with the Quebec\n Seminary, 57, 58;\n contributes to the support of the mission at Ville-Marie, 136;\n its union with the Quebec Seminary renewed, 140;\n a union with the Seminary of St. Sulpice formed, 221\n\nSeminary of Montreal, see _Ville-Marie Convent_\n\nSeminary of St. Sulpice, the, founded by M. Olier, 5, 6, 25;\n enlarged, 90;\n its ancient clock, 90;\n takes up the financial obligations of the Company of Montreal, 135;\n joined to the parish of Notre-Dame de Montreal, 175, 176, 183;\n visited by Laval, 189;\n affiliated with the Seminary of Foreign Missions, 221\n\n_Seine_, the, captured by the English with Saint-Vallier on board, 242, 243\n\nSouart, M., 91, 92, 124\n\nSovereign Council, the, fixes the tithe at a twenty-sixth, 10;\n forbids the liquor trade with the savages, 36;\n registers the royal approval of the establishment of the\n Quebec Seminary, 50;\n recommends that emigrants be sent only from the north of France, 78;\n passes a decree permitting the unrestricted sale of liquor, 113;\n finds it necessary to restrict the liquor trade, 115, 116;\n its members, 158;\n judges Perrot, 160;\n its re-construction, 165-7;\n a division in its ranks, 167;\n passes a decree affecting the policy of the Quebec Seminary, 236\n\nSulpicians, their entry into New France, 1;\n become the lords of the Island of Montreal, 8, 108;\n their devotion to the Virgin Mary, 85;\n at Ville-Marie, 92;\n more priests arrive, 105, 106;\n their religious zeal, 109;\n provide instruction for the colonists, 124;\n granted the livings of the Island of Montreal, 175, 176;\n request the king's confirmation of the union of their seminary with\n the parishes on the Island of Montreal, 183, 184\n\n\nT\n\nTalon, intendant, appointed to investigate the administration\n of de Mezy, 51;\n his immigration plans opposed by Colbert, 80;\n writes to Colbert in praise of the Abbe de Queylus, 107;\n brings out five Recollet priests, 109;\n obtains from the Sovereign Council a decree permitting the unrestricted\n sale of liquor, 113;\n develops the resources of the country, 114, 115;\n returns to France for two years, 116;\n praises Abbe de Queylus' work, 134, 135;\n retires from office, 143\n\nTaschereau, Cardinal, 40, 86\n\nTesserie, M. de la, member of the Sovereign Council, 158\n\nTilly, Le Gardeur de, member of the Sovereign Council, 158, 166, 167\n\nTithes, the levying of, on the colonists, 10, 50, 51, 54;\n payable only to the permanent priests, 55;\n the edict of 1679, 181;\n Laval and Saint-Vallier disagree upon the question of, 208, 209\n\nTonti, Chevalier de, accompanies La Salle as far as Fort Crevecoeur, 148;\n attacked by the Iroquois and flees to Michilimackinac, 149;\n again joins La Salle and descends the Mississippi with him, 150;\n appointed La Salle's representative, 151\n\nTracy, Marquis de, viceroy, appointed to investigate the administration\n of de Mezy, 51;\n builds three forts on the Richelieu River, 53;\n destroys the hamlets of the Mohawks and concludes a treaty of peace\n with the Iroquois which lasts eighteen years, 53, 54, 82;\n reduces the tithe to a twenty-sixth, 54;\n returns to France, 81;\n his fine qualities, 81, 82;\n presents a valuable picture to the church at Sainte Anne, 102\n\nTreaty of Ryswick, 234\n\nTreaty of St. Germain-en-Laye, 3, 110\n\nTreaty of Utrecht, 235\n\nTrouve, Claude, goes to the north shore of Lake Ontario to establish\n a mission, 105, 108\n\nTroyes, Chevalier de, leads an expedition to capture Hudson Bay, 204\n\nTurgis, Father, 62\n\n\nU\n\nUrsuline Convent (Quebec), established by Madame de la Peltrie, 112, 155;\n consumed by fire, 210\n\nUrsuline Sisters, 33, 125, 154, 231\n\n\nV\n\nValrennes, M. de, commands Fort Frontenac, 223, 232\n\nVaudreuil, Chevalier de, 214;\n in command at Montreal, 223;\n opposing the Iroquois at massacre of Lachine, 226, 227;\n succeeds Callieres as governor of Montreal, 235\n\nVerreau, Abbe, pays a tribute to Mother Mary of the Incarnation, 127\n\nViel, Father, Recollet missionary, 3\n\nVignal, Father, ministers to the plague-stricken on board\n the _St. Andre_, 31, 32;\n referred to, 8, 91, 92\n\nVille-Marie (Montreal), the school at, founded by Marguerite Bourgeoys, 9;\n the Abbe de Queylus returns to, 28;\n takes precautions against the Iroquois, 68;\n the school of martyrdom, 90, 91;\n fortified by Denonville, 213, 214;\n governed by Vaudreuil in Callieres' absence, 223;\n besieged by Winthrop, 229;\n references, 82, 83, 85, 122, 124, 135, 162, 178, 217\n\nVille-Marie Convent, founded by Marguerite Bourgeoys, 126, 127, 175, 176\n\nVilleray, M. de, writes to Colbert, 77, 78;\n member of the Sovereign Council, 166, 167\n\nVitre, Denys de, member of the Sovereign Council, 166\n\n\nW\n\nWest India Company, 81\n\nWinthrop, Fitz-John, attacks Montreal, 229, 231\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Makers of Canada: Bishop Laval\nby A. Leblond de Brumath\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Richard Tonsing, David Edwards and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THE \u201cSTRANGER\u201d IN THE CYCLONE.]\n\n _FRANK NELSON SERIES._\n\n\n\n\n THE\n BOY TRADERS;\n OR, THE\n SPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB AMONG THE BOERS.\n\n\n BY HARRY CASTLEMON,\n\n AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE GUNBOAT SERIES,\u201d \u201cSPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB SERIES,\u201d \u201cROCKY\n MOUNTAIN SERIES,\u201d ETC.\n\n\n PHILADELPHIA\n\n HENRY T. COATES & CO.\n\n CINCINNATI:\n R. W. CARROLL & CO.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n PAGE\n The Sandwich Islands, 5\n\n CHAPTER II.\n The Gale, 24\n\n CHAPTER III.\n The Last of Long Tom, 42\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n A Change of Programme, 64\n\n CHAPTER V.\n The Two Champions, 85\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n The Consul\u2019s \u201cClark,\u201d 105\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n More about the Clerk, 129\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n On the Quarter-deck again, 149\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n A Yankee Trick, 169\n\n CHAPTER X.\n Archie proves Himself a Hero, 192\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n An Obstinate Captain, 214\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n Buying an Outfit, 234\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n A Surly Boer, 253\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n A Troop of Lions, 274\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n \u201cWhere\u2019s my Horse?\u201d 296\n\n CHAPTER XVI.\n Deserted, 317\n\n CHAPTER XVII.\n Conclusion, 339\n\n\n\n\n THE BOY TRADERS;\n\n OR, THE\n\n SPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB AMONG THE BOERS.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n THE SANDWICH ISLANDS.\n\n\n\u201cNow, Uncle Dick, what is the matter?\u201d\n\nThe captain of the Stranger looked toward the companion-ladder, up which\nhis nephew had just disappeared, and motioned to Frank to close the\ndoor.\n\n\u201cThat is the fourth time I have seen you look at that barometer during\nthe last half hour,\u201d continued Frank.\n\n\u201cYes, and I find it lower every time I look at it,\u201d answered the old\nsailor. \u201cIt is coming; trotting right along, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is coming? Another tornado?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, a regular old-fashioned cyclone.\u201d\n\n\u201cI declare, it don\u2019t seem to me that the schooner can stand much more\npounding,\u201d said Frank, drawing a long breath.\n\n\u201cOh, she is good for a dozen battles like the one she has just passed\nthrough,\u201d continued Uncle Dick, encouragingly. \u201cGive me a tight craft, a\ngood crew, and plenty of elbow-room, and I would much rather be afloat\nduring a storm than on shore. There are no trees, chimneys, or roofs to\nfall on us here.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we haven\u2019t plenty of elbow-room,\u201d said Frank, somewhat anxiously.\n\u201cThe islands are scattered around here thicker than huckleberry bushes\nin a New England pasture, and they are all surrounded with coral reefs,\ntoo.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it; but it is our business to keep clear of the coral reefs.\nNow, let me see how much you know. Where\u2019s the schooner?\u201d\n\nFrank, who now occupied his old position as sailing-master of the\nvessel, took a chart from Uncle Dick\u2019s desk, and pointed out the\nposition of their little craft, which he had marked with a red\nlead-pencil after taking his observation at noon.\n\n\u201cVery good,\u201d said Uncle Dick. \u201cWhich side of the equator are we?\u201d\n\n\u201cSouth,\u201d answered Frank.\n\n\u201cHow many motions have cyclones?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo; rotary and progressive.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich way do they revolve in the Southern hemisphere?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the same direction that the sun appears to move.\u201d\n\n\u201cCorrect. Now, suppose that while you were in command of the Tycoon, you\nhad found out that there was a cyclone coming\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid I shouldn\u2019t have found it out,\u201d interrupted Frank, \u201cfor I\ndon\u2019t know what the signs are.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we will suppose that you knew all about it. After you have seen one\nor two, you will know how to tell when they are coming. We will suppose,\nnow, that a cyclone comes up, and that the wind blows strongly from the\nnorthwest. Which way from you is the centre of the storm?\u201d\n\n\u201cSouthwest.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd which way is it coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cToward the southeast.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen if you bore away to the southwest you would escape, of course?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir; I should probably insure my destruction, for I should sail\nstraight into the vortex. A northeasterly course would soon take me out\nof danger.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, you would get out of danger that way, but how soon I don\u2019t know.\nThe paths of some of these hurricanes are a thousand miles broad. You\u2019ll\ndo, however, and you are a very good boy to learn your lesson so well.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I go to the head?\u201d asked Frank, with a laugh.\n\nThe last time we saw the members of the Sportsman\u2019s Club, they had just\nfound Frank Nelson after a long separation from him. Their vessel was\nlying in the harbor of Honolulu; Captain Barclay, the wounded commander\nof the whaler, had been taken to a hospital on shore; his ship, the\nTycoon, had passed through the hands of the American consul, who placed\na new captain aboard of her with orders to take her to the States, where\nshe belonged; and for the first time in long weeks the Club were free\nfrom excitement, and had leisure to sit down and calmly talk over the\nadventures that had befallen them, and the exploits they had performed\nsince leaving home.\n\nThey had many things to converse about, as we know, and some of their\nnumber had reason to feel elated over what they had done. Walter had\nbeen a hero for once in his life, for had he not been captured by\nrobbers, who believed him to be somebody else, been confined in Potter\u2019s\nranche, and held as a hostage for the chief of the band who was a\nprisoner in the fort? That was the worst predicament that Walter had\never been in, and it was no wonder that there was a warm place in his\nheart for Dick Lewis and Bob Kelly, the men who had rescued him from his\nperilous situation.\n\nArchie Winters was also a hero, for he had lassoed and ridden the wild\nhorse which had so long defied all efforts to capture him, and would in\nall probability have given him, in a few days more, into the possession\nof his lawful owner, Colonel Gaylord, had not he and his two friends,\nFred and Eugene, unfortunately stumbled upon Zack and Silas, the\ntrappers who robbed the emigrant. One thing made Archie hug himself with\ndelight every time he thought of the various exciting incidents that\nhappened while he remained in the trappers\u2019 company, and that was, that\nZack and Silas did not get the million dollars after all. He laughed\noutright when he remembered how astounded and enraged they were to find\nthat the box, which they supposed was filled with nuggets and gold-dust,\ncontained nothing but a small brass machine something like the works of\na clock. Archie wondered what had become of the hospitable Pike, and\nwhether or not he had succeeded in putting his machine together again,\nand running his quartz mill with it.\n\nBut while the members of the Club gave to Walter and Archie all the\ncredit which their adventures and achievements demanded, they were\nunanimous in according the lion\u2019s share of praise to Frank Nelson, who\nhad brought himself safely out of a predicament, the like of which the\nboys had never heard of before. It seemed almost impossible that one who\nhad been \u201cshanghaied\u201d and thrust into the forecastle of a whale-ship to\ndo duty as a common sailor, should, in so short a time and by sheer\nforce of character, have worked his way to the quarter-deck, and into a\nposition for which only men of years and experience are thought to be\nqualified. But they had abundant evidence that such was the fact. There\nwas a witness in the person of the trapper, who was kidnapped at the\nsame time, and who had escaped in a manner so remarkable that even Uncle\nDick, who had seen a world of marvellous things, said the same feat\ncould not be performed again under like circumstances. Besides, the boys\nhad seen Frank on the Tycoon\u2019s quarter-deck, had heard him give orders\nthat were promptly obeyed, had messed with him in his cabin, and he had\nbrought them safely into the harbor of Honolulu, beating the swift\nlittle Stranger out of sight on the way.\n\nAs for Frank himself, he was very well satisfied with what he had done,\nand often declared that an adventure which, at first, threatened to\nterminate in something serious, had had a most agreeable ending. His\nforced sojourn on the Tycoon and all the incidents that had happened\nduring that time\u2014the sight of the first whale he ever struck coming up\non a breach close in front of his boat, and looming up in the air like a\nchurch steeple; the excessive fatigue that followed the long hours spent\nin cutting in and trying out; the sleepless nights; the days and weeks\nof suspense he had endured; the race and the desperate battle under a\nbroiling sun he had had in Mr. Gale\u2019s boat on the day Captain Barclay\ndeserted him; the fight with the natives at the Mangrove Islands, and\nthe rescue of the prisoners\u2014all these things would have seemed like a\ndream to Frank now, had it not been for the large callous spots on the\npalms of his hands, which had been brought there by handling heavy oars\nand by constant pulling at tarred ropes. The sight of these recalled\nvery forcibly to his mind the days and nights of toil which sometimes\ntested his strength and endurance so severely that he hardly expected to\nlive through them. Nothing could have tempted him to submit to the same\ntrials again, but now that they were all over and he was safe among\nfriends once more, he would not have sold his experience at any price.\n\nThe Stranger remained at the Sandwich Islands three weeks, and during\nthat time the boys saw everything of interest there was to be seen.\nEugene, who was impatient to get ashore to see how the \u201csavages\u201d lived,\nwas quite astonished when his brother informed him that the natives were\nconsidered to be the most generally educated people in the world; that\nthere was scarcely a man, woman, or child of suitable age among them who\ncould not read and write; that they had contributed a goodly sum of\nmoney to the Sanitary Commission during our late war; that they had sent\na good many men to serve in our army and navy; and that among them were\na brigadier-general, a major, and several officers of lower grade.\nEugene could hardly believe it; but when he got ashore and saw the fine\nhotel erected by the government at a cost of one hundred and twenty\nthousand dollars, the prison, hospital, churches, and school-houses, he\nwas obliged to confess that he was among civilized people. Frank and\nArchie were equally astonished at the familiar appearance of things, and\ntold their Southern friends that if they could imagine how Honolulu\nwould look without the bananas, palm, and tamarind trees, they could\ntell exactly how the majority of New England villages looked.\n\nThe first Sunday the Club spent ashore they went to the seaman\u2019s chapel\nto hear Father Damon preach to the sailors; and the next day they hired\nhorses, a pack-mule, and guides for a ride around the island. This was a\ngreat relief to them, especially to Dick and Bob, for it gave them a\ntaste of the frontier life to which they had so long been accustomed.\nThey were all glad to find themselves on horseback once more; so they\njourneyed very leisurely, and the ride, which could easily have been\naccomplished in four days, consumed the best part of eight.\n\nHaving explored Oahu pretty thoroughly, the Club returned on board the\nStranger, which set sail for Hilo in the island of Hawaii, which place\nthey reached after a rough passage of four days. At Hilo\u2014the town has\nbeen devastated by a tidal wave since the Club visited it\u2014they had their\nfirst view of a sport for which the natives of these islands are so\nfamous\u2014swimming with the surf-board. It was a fine, not to say a\nthrilling sight to see a party of men, some of whom were lying, others\nkneeling, and still others standing erect upon boards which seemed\nscarcely large enough to support their weight, shooting towards the\nbeach with almost railroad speed, closely followed by a huge comber that\nseemed every instant to be on the point of overwhelming them. The grace\nand skill exhibited by the swimmers made the feat appear very easy of\naccomplishment, and after watching the bathers for a few minutes, Eugene\ndeclared that he could do it as well as anybody, and dared Archie to get\na board somewhere and go into the water with him.\n\n\u201cFind a board yourself, and see if I am afraid to follow where you dare\nlead,\u201d was Archie\u2019s prompt reply; and to show that he meant what he\nsaid, he pulled off his jacket and threw it on the sand.\n\n\u201cNow, Archie,\u201d remonstrated Frank, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t undertake anything I was\ncertain to make a failure of, if I were you. You can\u2019t get beyond the\nsurf to save your life.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019d like to know if I can\u2019t duck my head and let a billow pass over me\nas well as anybody?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, you can\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s where you are mistaken. You\u2019ll see. Our countrymen can dive\ndeeper and come out drier than any people in the world, not even\nexcepting these Sandwich Islanders. I\u2019ll go as far as my leader goes,\nyou may rely upon that. Say, Mr. Kanaker,\u201d added Archie, approaching a\nstalwart swimmer who had just been landed high and dry by a huge billow,\n\u201cyou gives me board, I gives you, quarter, eh?\u201d\n\nThe native smiled good-naturedly and astonished Archie by replying in\nplain English, and in much better terms than he had used\u2014\n\n\u201cYou may have it certainly, but I wouldn\u2019t advise you to try it.\u201d\n\nWhile Archie stood perplexed and bewildered, wondering how he ought to\napologize to the man for addressing him in such a way, the latter\ncontinued, \u201cI think your friend has given up the idea of going out.\u201d\n\nArchie looked toward Eugene, and saw that he was standing with his boots\nin his hand, gazing intently toward the water. He glanced in the same\ndirection, and was just in time to see a swimmer overtaken by a huge\ncomber, and carried out of sight in an instant. Archie was greatly\nalarmed, and expected to see the man dashed stunned and bruised on the\nbeach; but presently a head bobbed up and out of the water beyond the\nbreaker, and the bold swimmer, still safe and sound and undismayed by\nhis failure, struck out for another trial, diving under the waves as\nthey came rolling in, and finally made his way to the smooth water, half\na mile from shore, where he waited for another high swell to carry him\nin. That was as near as Archie and Eugene ever came to trying their\nskill with the surf-board. One picked up his jacket, the other pulled on\nhis boots, and as both these acts were performed at the same time,\nneither could consistently accuse the other of backing out.\n\nThe first excursion the Club made from Hilo was to a bay, with an\nunpronounceable name, on the opposite side of the island, the scene of\nCaptain Cook\u2019s death; and the next was to the volcano of Kilauea, the\nlargest active crater in the world. The trappers, who accompanied the\nClub wherever they went, set out on this last expedition with fear and\ntrembling. The boys had explained to them the theory of volcanoes as\nbest they could, and to say that the backwoodsmen were astonished would\nbut feebly express their feelings. They had never heard of a burning\nmountain before, and they were overwhelmed with awe. The statement that\nthere was a hole in the ground three miles long, a mile broad, and a\nthousand feet deep, containing two lakes filled with something that\nlooked like red-hot iron, was almost too much for them to believe; but\nthe Club promised to show it to them, and so the trappers mounted their\nhorses and set out with the rest. But they went no farther than the\nVolcano House, at which the party stopped for the night. The Club and\nUncle Dick took up their quarters in the house, but the trappers\npreferred spreading their blankets on the veranda. Some time during the\nnight the rainstorm, that had set in just before dark, cleared away, and\nold Bob, who happened to be awake, suddenly caught sight of something\nthat terrified him beyond measure. He aroused his companion, and the two\nsat there on the veranda until morning looking at it. The top of the\nmountain which had been pointed out to them as the volcano, seemed to be\non fire, and now and then sheets of flame would shoot up above the\nsummit, lighting up the clouds overhead, until it seemed to the two\nanxious watchers that the whole heavens were about to be consumed.\n\nBy the time daylight came they had seen enough of volcanoes, and\nemphatically refused to go another step toward the crater. There was\nsomething up there, they said, that must be dreadful to look at, and\nthey didn\u2019t want to get any nearer to it. The boys went, however, and\ndescended into the crater, and filled their pockets with chunks of lava,\nsaw the burning lakes, breathed the sulphurous fumes that arose from\nthem, walked over a fiery, molten mass from which they were separated by\nonly fourteen inches of something Uncle Dick said was _cold_ lava, but\nwhich was still so hot that it burned the soles of their boots, and\nfinally came back to the Volcano House again at five o\u2019clock, with minds\nso deeply impressed by what they had seen that it could never be\nforgotten. They did not have much to say about their journey\u2014they wanted\nto keep still and think about it; but when at last their tongues were\nloosed, the burning lakes were the only subjects of their conversation\nuntil the new and novel sights of another country took possession of\ntheir minds and thoughts for the time being.\n\nThe trappers were also wonderfully impressed, though in a different way.\nThey were frightened again, and after that they had many long and\nearnest debates on the subject of an immediate return to America. But\nwhen they came to talk it over and ask the advice of others, they found\nthat there were many obstacles in their way. Dick Lewis remembered and\nfeared the boarding-house keeper, while old Bob was afraid to trust\nhimself to any vessel besides the Stranger. Neither he nor Dick wanted\nto cross the Pacific again, for what if one of those big \u201cquids,\u201d or the\nmother of that baby whale they had seen, should meet them and send them\nto the bottom? No, they dared not go back, and they dreaded to go on.\nThere were dangers before as well as behind. New and wonderful sights\nwere being brought to their notice every day, and there were many others\nyet to come that they had often heard the boys talk about. There were\nanimals called lions and tigers, as fierce as panthers, only a great\ndeal larger and stronger, some of which were so bold that they would\nrush into a settlement in broad daylight, and carry off the first man\nthat came in their way. There were other animals called elephants, that\nstood as high at the shoulders as the roof of Potter\u2019s rancho, whose\nteeth weighed fifty pounds apiece, and one of whose feet was so heavy\nthat it took two strong men to shoulder it. There were serpents so\nenormous that they could crush and swallow a deer or a human being, and\nothers so numerous and deadly that more than thirty thousand people had\ndied in one year from the effects of their bites. And, more wonderful\nthan all, here was Uncle Dick, who had brought them safely through so\nmany dangers, and who had met and vanquished all these monsters, and he\nwas going straight back to the countries where they were to be found! He\nwas going to take his nephews and Frank there too, and the reckless\nyoungsters were eager to go. The trappers couldn\u2019t understand it. They\ndidn\u2019t mind an occasional brush with Indians and grizzlies\u2014they rather\nenjoyed it; but the thought of a single man boldly attacking an animal\nas large as a house was enough to terrify them.\n\nThe trappers talked these matters over at every opportunity, and finally\ndecided that they would rather meet the dangers yet to come, provided\nthey could do so in Uncle Dick\u2019s company and Frank\u2019s, than go back alone\nand face those they had left behind them. They announced this decision\nquietly, like men who had determined to bravely meet the fate they could\nnot avert, and suffered themselves to be carried away to new countries\nand new dangers on the other side of the Pacific.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER II.\n THE GALE.\n\n\nThe Sandwich Islands having been thoroughly explored, the Stranger set\nsail for the harbor of Hilo, and shaped her course across the Pacific.\nJapan was the Club\u2019s destination, but they were in no hurry to get\nthere, and besides there were objects of interest to be seen on the way.\nThere were numerous islands to be visited, and among them were the\nMangroves. The boys were anxious to see the place where the fight with\nthe natives occurred, and Uncle Dick, yielding to their entreaties, told\nFrank to take the schooner there, a command which he gladly obeyed. The\nboys would also have been delighted could they have seen the village\nwhich had been burned by Frank\u2019s orders. They tried to induce Uncle Dick\nto let them go there, giving as a reason for this insane desire that\npossibly the savages might be holding other prisoners whom they could\nrelease. But the old sailor settled that matter very quickly. He wasn\u2019t\ngoing to put his vessel and crew in danger for nothing, that was\ncertain. The boys might go ashore after terrapins if the schooner\nstopped in the bay over night, and that was all they could do.\n\nWhen they arrived in sight of the principal island, and had approached\nwithin a mile of the beach, Uncle Dick said to Frank:\n\n\u201cThe natives of course know by this time that we are coming, and to show\nthem that we are prepared to take care of ourselves, wouldn\u2019t it be a\ngood plan to kick up a little dust out there with a thirty-pound shot?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it would,\u201d answered Frank. \u201cAs our vessel is small, they will\nknow that we have a small crew, and the noise of a shell or two\nwhistling through the trees may save us from an attack if we lie at\nanchor all night.\u201d\n\nSince leaving Bellville the crew had been drilled in the use of small\narms and in handling the big guns almost as regularly as though the\nStranger had been a little man-of-war; but none of the pieces had ever\nspoken yet, and the Club were delighted with the prospect of hearing\nLong Tom\u2019s voice. The crew were at once piped to quarters, the shifting\nmen took their place about the thirty-pounder (the vessel\u2019s company was\ntoo small to allow of a full crew for each of the three guns), and in\nresponse to the old familiar order, \u201cCast loose and provide,\u201d which they\nhad all heard many a time when it meant something besides shelling an\nunoccupied piece of woods, quickly stripped off the canvas covering and\nmade the piece ready for business. A cartridge was driven home, a shell\nplaced on top of it, the gun was trained in accordance with Frank\u2019s\ndesires, the second captain lowered the breech a little, the first\ncaptain raised his hand, and the crew stood back out of the way.\n\n\u201cFire!\u201d said Frank.\n\nThe first captain pulled the lock-string, and the little vessel trembled\nall over as Long Tom belched forth its contents. Then something happened\nthat the Club had not looked for. As the smoke arose from the mouth of\nthe cannon, a crowd of natives, who had been lying concealed behind the\nrocks on the beach, jumped to their feet and ran with all haste into the\nwoods. The shell ploughed through the trees above their heads, and\nexploding, sent up a cloud of white smoke to mark the spot.\n\n\u201cThat was pretty close to some of them, Frank,\u201d said Uncle Dick.\n\n\u201cIt is no matter if it hurt some of them,\u201d said Frank, in reply. \u201cThey\nhad an ambush ready for us, didn\u2019t they? Suppose we had been out of\nwater, and had sent a boat\u2019s-crew ashore after some? There wouldn\u2019t a\nman of them have come back to us.\u201d\n\nThree more shells followed the first, being thrown toward other points\non the island, to show the treacherous inhabitants that the schooner\u2019s\ncompany could reach a good portion of their territory if they felt so\ndisposed, and then the cannon was taken in charge by the quarter-gunner,\nwho, after rubbing it inside and out until it shone like a mirror, put\non its canvas covering again. A few minutes afterward, the Stranger\ndropped anchor in the bay, near the spot where the Tycoon had been\nmoored when attacked by the natives.\n\n\u201cThis is the place,\u201d said Frank, to the boys who gathered around to hear\nonce more the story of the thrilling scenes that had been enacted in\nthat lonely spot but a few short weeks before. \u201cHere is where the ship\nwas anchored, and that creek over there was the ambush from which the\ncanoes came. The boats\u2019 crews who went ashore after water were attacked\non that white beach you see off the port bow, and there was where we\nlanded when we went out to burn the village, which was located about\nthree-quarters of a mile from the beach.\u201d\n\nThe boys could understand Frank\u2019s description of the fight now that they\nsaw before them the very spot in which it had taken place. They listened\nto the story as attentively as though they had never heard it before,\nand ran down to supper telling one another that they would see and learn\nmore in the morning when they went ashore after terrapins. \u201cAnd I hope\nthat then the natives will try and see what we are made of,\u201d said Eugene\nto Archie, in a confidential whisper. \u201cMy new Henry rifle that I bought\nin \u2019Frisco to replace the one Jack stole from me will rust for want of\nuse if it lies in its case much longer.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope we shall have a chance to rescue the prisoners they are still\nholding,\u201d said Archie. \u201cIt must be dreadful to pass one\u2019s life here\namong these heathen. The worst part of such a captivity to me would be\nthe knowledge that every now and then friends came here who would be\nonly too willing to take me off if I could only get to them. I wish\nthere were enough of us to take the island.\u201d\n\nProbably the prisoners who were still in the hands of the natives wished\nthe same thing. Perhaps, too, they had some hopes of rescue when they\nheard the roar of the thirty-pounder awaking the echoes among the hills.\nBut the schooner\u2019s company was in no situation to render them\nassistance, and the Club were now as near the island as they ever went.\nWhile they were at supper, the officer of the deck suddenly descended\nthe companion-ladder and interrupted the lively conversation that was\ngoing on by asking the captain if he would come on deck a minute. Uncle\nDick went, and had hardly disappeared before the boys heard the\nboatswain\u2019s whistle, followed by the order: \u201cAll hands stand by to get\nthe ship under way.\u201d\n\nWith one accord the Club dropped their knives and forks and ran up the\nladder to see what was the occasion of the order; some of them being in\nsuch a hurry that they did not stop to find their caps.\n\n\u201cMaster Frank,\u201d said Dick Lewis, who met his young friend at the top of\nthe ladder, \u201cis that a quid out thar? Is that ole whale comin\u2019 to ax the\ncap\u2019n what he\u2019s done with her baby?\u201d\n\nThe trapper pointed seaward, and Frank, looking in the direction\nindicated by his finger, saw a dark cloud rising rapidly in the horizon,\nand beneath it a long line of foam and a dense bank of mist that was\nmoving toward the island.\n\n\u201cRodgers says we\u2019re done for now,\u201d continued Dick, whose face was white\nas a sheet. \u201cHe says me and Bob never seed a whale yet, but will see one\nnow; that is, if we have a chance to see anything afore she opens her\nmouth and sends us to\u2014, to\u2014; what sort of a place did he say that was,\nBob?\u201d inquired Dick, turning to his frightened companion, who stood\nclose beside him.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know; somebody\u2019s cupboard,\u201d replied Bob.\n\n\u201cDavy Jones\u2019s locker, most likely,\u201d explained Frank. \u201cNow, Dick, when\nRodgers or anyone else, says such a thing to you again, you just tell\nhim that you know better. We\u2019re going to have a blow, that\u2019s all. You\nhave seen enough of them among the mountains and on the prairies to know\nwhat they are.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, whar be we goin\u2019?\u201d asked Dick, seeing that the Stranger was\nwalking rapidly up to her anchor.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re going out, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the face and eyes of it?\u201d gasped the trapper, looking dubious at the\nangry clouds, whose appearance was indeed most threatening. \u201cWhy don\u2019t\nwe stay here whar we\u2019re safe?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause we are not safe here. This is the most dangerous spot we could\nbe in. The wind will blow directly on shore, and the waves will come\nrolling in here as high as the crosstrees. The first one that struck us\nwould carry us out there in the woods.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, let\u2019s take our shootin\u2019 irons an\u2019 go ashore,\u201d said Dick. \u201cI\u2019d\nsooner fight the s than stay on this little boat and be drownded.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what would we do with the schooner? Leave her to take care of\nherself? That\u2019s a pretty idea, isn\u2019t it? She would be smashed into\nkindling-wood on the beach, and then how would we ever get home again?\nNo, no, Dick; we must take care of the vessel first, so we are going out\nwhere we shall have plenty of room. I wish we were out there now,\u201d added\nFrank, anxiously, as he directed his gaze toward a high rocky promontory\nwhich jutted out into the water a mile in advance of them. \u201cThat point\nis a pretty long one, and if we don\u2019t weather it before the storm breaks\nit will be good-bye, Stranger, and Sportsman\u2019s Club, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever fear,\u201d exclaimed Uncle Dick, who happened to overhear this last\nremark. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a capful of wind, and that is all we need to make an\noffing. Once off this lee-shore, we shall have plenty of room, unless we\nare blown up against the Ladrone Islands.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd about the time that happens, look out for pirates,\u201d said Eugene.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s them?\u201d asked Dick.\n\n\u201cOh, they are wild, lawless men, like Allen and Black Bill,\u201d replied\nEugene.\n\nThe trapper\u2019s brow cleared at once. He was not afraid of lawless men,\nfor he had met too many of them during his career on the plains. He was\nperfectly willing to meet anything that could be resisted by the weapons\nto which he had been accustomed from his earliest boyhood, but storms\nlike this that was now approaching, and whales and \u201cquids,\u201d that could\ndestroy a vessel, and elephants as large as a house, Dick did not want\nto see.\n\nThe Stranger was under sail in a very few minutes, and with all her\ncanvas spread she began to move away from the dangerous shore under her\nlee. What little wind there was stirring was rapidly dying away, but it\nblew long enough to enable the little vessel to pass the threatening\npoint which Frank so much dreaded, and then sail was quickly shortened,\nand every preparation made to meet the on-coming tempest.\n\n\u201cGo below, now, boys,\u201d said Uncle Dick, as he came out of the cabin with\nhis oilcloth suit on, and his speaking-trumpet in his hand. \u201cI am going\nto batten down everything. Take Dick and Bob with you.\u201d\n\nBefore the trappers could refuse to go, as they would probably have done\nhad they been allowed time to think, they were pulled down into the\ncabin, and the door, being closed behind them, was covered with a\ntarpaulin; so were the skylights, and thus the cabin was made so dark\nthat the boys could scarcely distinguish one another\u2019s features. This\nwas the first time these precautions had been taken since rounding Cape\nHorn, and the boys made up their minds that the storm was going to be a\nsevere one.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t like this at all,\u201d said Eugene. \u201cI\u2019d much rather go on deck and\nface it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are safer here, for there is no danger of being washed overboard,\u201d\nsaid Featherweight.\n\n\u201cBut I want to see what is going on,\u201d said Eugene. \u201cI can\u2019t bear to be\nshut up in this way.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow would you like to belong to the crew of a monitor?\u201d asked George.\n\u201cIn action, or during a storm at sea, the crew are all below, and they\nare kept there by heavy iron gratings.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhew!\u201d exclaimed Eugene. \u201cThey must be regular coffins.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey sometimes prove to be, that\u2019s a fact. The Tecumseh was blown up by\na torpedo in Mobile harbor, and went to the bottom, carrying one hundred\nand twelve men with her.\u201d\n\n\u201cHuman natur\u2019!\u201d shrieked Dick, as all the occupants of the cabin were\nthrown from their seats by the sudden lurching of the vessel. \u201cWe\u2019re\ngoin\u2019, too! We\u2019re goin\u2019, too!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no,\u201d replied Frank, picking himself up from under the table, where\nhe had been pitched headlong. \u201cThat was only the first touch of the\nstorm.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if that\u2019s a _touch_, I sincerely hope that we shall not get a\nblow,\u201d said Archie, crawling back to his seat and rubbing his elbow with\none hand and his head with the other.\n\n\u201cShe will soon come right side up,\u201d said Frank.\n\nBut to Dick and Bob, and even to some of the other occupants of the\ncabin, it seemed for a few minutes as though the Stranger was destined\nto come wrong side up. She heeled over until the floor stood at such an\nangle that it was useless for one to attempt to retain an upright\nposition, and the boys were knocked and bumped about in a way that was\nquite bewildering. But she came up to a nearly even keel at last, as\nFrank had said she would, and then the boys could tell, confined as they\nwere, that she was travelling through the water at a tremendous rate of\nspeed. They looked out at the bull\u2019s-eyes, but could gain no idea of the\nstate of affairs outside, for the glasses were obscured by the rain and\nby the spray which was driven from the tops of the waves. The waves must\nhave rolled mountains high, judging by the way their little vessel was\ntossed about by them, and the wind roared and screeched so loudly that\nthe boys could not hear a single order, or even the tramping of the\nsailors\u2019 feet as they passed over their heads. So completely were all\nsounds of life above decks shut out from them, that the Club might have\nthought that the captain and all his crew had been swept overboard, had\nit not been for the steady course the vessel pursued. That told them\nthat there was somebody watching over them, and that there was a skilful\nand trusty hand at the helm.\n\nThe storm continued with unabated fury all the night long, but with the\nrising of the sun the wind died away almost as suddenly as it had\narisen, the tarpaulin was thrown off, and the captain came into the\ncabin looking like anything in the world except a man who had spent the\nlast twelve hours in fighting a gale. He looked as jolly and\ngood-natured as though he had just arisen from a refreshing sleep.\n\n\u201cWell, Uncle Dick, this is rather more than a sailing wind, isn\u2019t it?\u201d\nasked Eugene.\n\n\u201cRather,\u201d was the laughing reply. \u201cBut the worst of it is over now. We\nshall have a heavy sea for a few hours, but that will not prevent us\nfrom fixing up a little. It was one of the hardest gales I ever\nexperienced; and if the Mangrove Islands had been under our lee when it\nstruck us\u2014\u201d\n\nThe old sailor shrugged his shoulders, and the boys knew what he meant\nby it.\n\n\u201cYou said something about fixing up a little,\u201d said Frank. \u201cWas anything\ncarried away?\u201d\n\nUncle Dick nodded his head, and the Club went on deck in a body to take\na survey of the schooner. She did not look much like the Stranger of the\nday before, and the boys wondered how she could have received so much\ndamage without their knowing anything about it. The flying jibboom was\ngone, and so were both the topmasts. Some of the ratlines had parted and\nwere streaming out straight in the wind like signals of distress, the\nport bulwarks were smashed in, the deck was littered with various odds\nand ends, life-lines were stretched along the sides, and altogether the\nhandsome little craft looked very unlike herself. What must have been\nthe power of the elements to work all this ruin to a stanch craft which\nhad been built solely for strength and safety? It must have been\ntremendous, and the boys were reminded that all danger from it had not\nyet passed when they looked at the man who was lashed to the helm.\nPresently they received another convincing proof of the fact. The\nofficer of the deck suddenly called out, \u201cHold fast, everybody!\u201d and the\nboys looked up just in time to see the schooner plunge her nose into a\nhuge billow which curled up over her bow, and breaking into a small\nNiagara Falls, washed across the deck, sweeping it clean of everything\nmovable, and carrying with it one of the sailors, who missed the\nlife-line at which he grasped. Ready hands were stretched out to his\nassistance, but the man saved himself by clutching at the life-rail and\nholding fast to it.\n\nThe Club knew now how the bulwarks had been smashed in. The wave filled\nthe deck almost waist deep, and they were astounded at the force with\nwhich it swept along. That portion of it which did not flow down into\nthe cabin passed out through the scuppers, leaving behind it a party of\nyoungsters with very wet skins and pale faces, who clung desperately to\nthe life-lines, and looked hastily about to see if any of their number\nwere missing. Their fears on this score being set at rest, they glanced\ndown into the cabin to see how Uncle Dick was getting on. The old sailor\nwas holding fast to the table and standing up to his knees in water, but\nhe had nothing to say. He was used to such things.\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t we lay to till the storm subsides?\u201d said Eugene, slapping his\nwet trowsers and holding up first one foot and then the other to let the\nwater run out of his boots.\n\n\u201cThe gale is over now,\u201d said the officer of the deck; \u201cbut we can\u2019t\nexpect the sea to go down at once after such a stirring up as it had\nlast night.\u201d\n\nAlthough the waves did not go down immediately, they subsided gradually,\nso that the men could be set to work to repair the damage done during\nthe storm. At the end of a week the Stranger looked as good as new, and\nwas ready for another and still more severe test of her strength, which\ncame all too soon, and promised for the time being to bring the Club\u2019s\nvoyage to an abrupt ending.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER III.\n THE LAST OF LONG TOM.\n\n\nFor four weeks succeeding the gale the weather was delightful. Propelled\nby favoring breezes the Stranger sped rapidly on her way, stopping now\nand then at some point of interest long enough to allow the boys to\nstretch their cramped limbs on shore, a privilege of which they were\nalways glad to avail themselves. Eugene found ample opportunity to try\nhis new Henry rifle on the various species of birds and animals with\nwhich some of the islands abounded, and the others collected such a\nsupply of curiosities, in the shape of weapons and ornaments, which they\npurchased from the natives, that the cabin of the Stranger soon began to\nlook like a little museum. The Club\u2019s absent friends, Chase and Wilson,\nwere not forgotten. If one of their number found any curiosities of\nspecial value, such as bows and arrows, spears, headdresses, or cooking\nutensils, he always tried to procure more just like them to send to the\ntwo boys in Bellville. Everything passed off smoothly for four weeks, as\nwe have said, and then the members of the Club, having made up their\nminds that they had seen enough of the islands of the Pacific, began to\nurge Uncle Dick to shape the schooner\u2019s course toward Japan. On this\nsame day Frank noticed, with some uneasiness, that the captain seemed to\nbe very much interested in his barometer, so much so that he paid\nfrequent visits to it; and every time he looked at it he would come out\nof his cabin and run his eye all around the horizon as if he were\nsearching for something. But he said nothing, and neither did Frank\nuntil dinner was over, and Archie and George and the rest of the Club\nhad ascended to the deck. Then he thought it time to make some\ninquiries, and the result was the conversation we have recorded at the\nbeginning of our first chapter.\n\n\u201cA cyclone!\u201d thought Frank, with a sinking at his heart such as he had\nfrequently felt when threatened by some terrible danger. The very name\nhad something appalling in it. There they were, surrounded by\ntreacherous reefs which rendered navigation extremely difficult and\ndangerous, even under the most favorable circumstances, and Uncle Dick\nknew that there was a hurricane approaching, and still he allowed his\nvessel to run along with all her sails spread. Frank had read of\nshipmasters ordering in every stitch of canvas on the very first\nindication of an approaching storm, and wondered why Uncle Dick did not\ndo the same.\n\nThe old sailor filled his pipe for his after-dinner smoke, and Frank\nwent on deck to see how things looked there. Then he found that some\nprecautions had already been taken to insure the safety of the schooner\nand her company. The islands, which clustered so thickly on all sides of\nthem in the morning, were further away now, and were all lying astern.\nIn front and on both sides of them nothing was to be seen but the sky\nand the blue water. Uncle Dick meant to have plenty of elbow-room.\n\nThe first thing that attracted Frank\u2019s attention after he had noted the\nposition of the islands, was the unusual gloom and silence that seemed\nto prevail everywhere. The men who were gathered about the capstan\nconversed in almost inaudible tones, the two mates seemed to be wholly\nabsorbed in their own reflections and in watching the horizon; and even\nthe voices of the merry group on the quarter-deck were tuned to a lower\nkey. The wind whistled through the cordage as usual, the water bubbled\nup under the bows, the masts and yards creaked and groaned, but all\nthese sounds were subdued\u2014were uttered in a whisper, so to speak, as if\nthe schooner and the element through which she was passing were\ndepressed in the same degree and manner that Frank and the rest were.\nAway off to the eastward he now discovered a large ship, standing along\nwith all her canvas spread that would catch the wind. Frank was glad to\nsee her. During the fearful convulsion that was to follow he thought it\nwould be a great comfort to know that he and his companions were not\nalone on the deep\u2014that there were human beings near who might be able to\nextend a helping hand if they got into trouble. Somebody did get into\ntrouble, and help was needed and freely and promptly given; but it was\nnot to the Stranger or her crew.\n\n\u201cHow far is it, Mr. Baldwin?\u201d asked Frank.\n\n\u201cIt is close at hand,\u201d was the reply. \u201cHalf an hour will tell the\nstory.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t we take in something then, and get ready for it?\u201d inquired\nFrank.\n\n\u201cWhy, we want to run away from it, don\u2019t we? How could we do it with\neverything furled? You may safely trust the captain. There\u2019s a heap of\nknowledge under those gray hairs of his.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that,\u201d returned Frank, quickly. \u201cI only asked for information.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou see,\u201d continued the officer, \u201churricanes are not like ordinary\ngales. The wind moves in a circle, and at the same time the body of the\nstorm has a motion in a straight line. The pressure of the atmosphere is\nless the nearer you get to the outside of the storm, and greater as you\napproach the centre; while if you should get into the very centre of it,\nyou wouldn\u2019t feel any wind at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas that been proved, or is it merely supposition?\u201d asked Frank.\n\n\u201cIt has been proved in a hundred cases, and once in my own experience.\nIt happened two years ago, and off the Mauritius. It began with a rather\nstiff breeze, which in two hours increased to a gale, and in two more to\nthe worst hurricane I ever saw in my life. It blew squarely from the\nnortheast, and when it got so hard that it seemed as if wood and iron\ncouldn\u2019t stand it an instant longer, there came a calm quicker than you\ncould say Jack Robinson, and there wasn\u2019t a breath of air stirring. This\nlasted fifteen minutes, and then without any warning the wind began\nagain with the most terrible screech I ever heard, and blew from the\nsouthwest as hard as ever. Now, we don\u2019t propose to get in there with\nthis little craft. As soon as we can tell which way it is coming from\nwe\u2019ll run off in another direction and get out of its track. There\u2019s the\nfirst puff of it now,\u201d said the officer, as a strong gust of wind filled\nthe sails, and the schooner began to careen under the pressure. \u201cKeep\nher steady, there.\u201d\n\nMr. Baldwin started toward the cabin, but Uncle Dick was on the alert,\nand came up the ladder in two jumps. He looked at the compass, made sure\nof the direction of the wind, then issued some hasty orders, and in five\nminutes more the Stranger was bounding away on another tack, and in a\ndirection lying almost at right angles with the one she had been\nfollowing. This was the time for Frank to see if his ideas were correct.\nHe looked at the compass and found that the wind was coming from the\nnortheast, coming pretty strong, too, which proved that they must be\nsome distance inside of the outer circle of the storm. It proved, too,\nthat the centre of the storm lay to the northwest of them, and as it was\nmoving toward the southeast, of course it was coming directly toward\nthem. The shortest way out of its path lay in a southwesterly direction,\nand that was the way the schooner was heading, as he saw by another\nglance at the compass. It took him some time to think these points all\nout, but Uncle Dick, aided by the skill acquired by long experience, had\ndecided them without a moment\u2019s delay.\n\n\u201cWhat was the old course, quartermaster?\u201d asked Frank.\n\n\u201cNor\u2019west, one-half west, sir,\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cWe were holding as straight for it as we could go,\u201d said Frank, drawing\na long breath. \u201cIn a little while we\u2019d have been in the very midst of\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the midst of what?\u201d asked Walter, who with the rest of the Club had\nwatched Uncle Dick\u2019s movements in surprise. \u201cWhat is the trouble, and\nwhy was the course of the vessel changed so suddenly?\u201d\n\nIt required but a few minutes for Frank to make his explanations, and\nthen there were other interested ones aboard the schooner who watched\nthe progress of the storm with no little anxiety. They noticed with much\nsatisfaction that the strange ship to the eastward was keeping company\nwith them; that she also had changed her course, and was sailing in a\ndirection parallel to the one the Stranger was following. This proved\nthat her captain\u2019s calculations had led to the same result as those of\nUncle Dick.\n\nThe wind steadily increased in force for almost four hours, being\naccompanied at the last by the most terrific thunder and lightning, and\nby such blinding sheets of rain that the boys and the trappers were\ndriven to the cabin and kept close prisoners there. This was all they\nfelt and all they knew of that cyclone until a long time afterward,\nwhen, in another part of the world and under more agreeable\ncircumstances, Eugene received a paper from his friend Chase,\naccompanied by a letter which contained this paragraph:\n\n\u201cI send you to-day a copy of the _Herald_, in which appears an account\nof a terrible and most destructive storm that happened down there\nsomewhere. As the last letter you sent me was written while you were\napproaching the Mangrove Islands, where Nelson performed the exploit\nthat made him master of the Tycoon, I felt a little uneasy, fearing that\nyou might have been caught out in it. Did you see the waves that flooded\nthe islands named in the article referred to, and did you feel the wind\nthat twisted off large trees as if they had been pipe-stems, and carried\nthe tops so far away that they were never seen afterwards?\u201d\n\nNo, the Club saw and felt none of these, but they did see and feel the\neffects of the protracted gale that set in at the close of that eventful\nday, and never abated until the Stranger had been completely dismantled,\nand her consort, the large ship that hove in sight just before the storm\ncommenced, driven high and dry upon the shores of one of those\ninhospitable islands. This happened on the third day after the cyclone.\nDuring the whole of this time the boys and the trappers were confined to\nthe cabin, and did not once sit down to a cooked meal, the storm being\nso severe that it was impossible to build a fire in the galley. During\nthe night that followed the second day the fury of the gale seemed to\nincrease a hundred-fold, and the boys and their two friends passed the\nlong, gloomy hours in a state of anxiety and alarm that cannot be\ndescribed. On the morning of the third day the tarpaulin that covered\nthe cabin was suddenly thrown aside, and Uncle Dick came down. The\nfrightened boys held their breath while they looked at him, for\nsomething told them that he had bad news for them.\n\n\u201cGo on deck, now,\u201d said the old sailor, shouting the words through his\ntrumpet, for the gale roared so loudly that he could not have made\nhimself understood had he addressed them in any other way. \u201cHold fast\nfor your lives and stand by to do as I tell you. There is an island\nunder our lee and I can\u2019t get away from it, because the schooner is\ndismantled and almost unmanageable. We are driving ashore as fast as the\nwind can send us. I want you boys and Dick and Bob to go to the pumps.\nThe men are tired out.\u201d\n\nThe boys\u2019 hearts seemed to stop beating. They followed Uncle Dick to the\ndeck, and grasping the life-lines he passed to them, gazed in awe at the\nscene presented to their view. Never in their lives, not even when\nrounding the Horn, had they seen such waves as they saw that morning.\nThey seemed to loom up to the sky, and how the Stranger escaped being\nengulfed by some of them, drifting, as she did, almost at their mercy,\nwas a great mystery. Of the beautiful little schooner which had been so\nrecently refitted, there was nothing left but the hull. Both masts were\ngone, the bowsprit was broken short off, and a little piece of sail,\nscarcely larger than a good-sized pillowcase, which was rigged to a jury\nmast, was all the canvas she had to keep her before the wind. Now and\nthen, as she was lifted on the crest of a billow, the boys could see the\nisland a few miles to leeward of them, and the long line of breakers\nrolling over the rocks toward which the vessel was being driven with\ntremendous force. It seemed as if nothing could be done to avert the\ndeath toward which they were hastening, but even yet the crew had not\ngiven up all hope. There was no confusion among them, and every man was\nbusy. Some were at the pumps, and others at work getting up the anchors\nand laying the cables. A sailor never gives up so long as his vessel\nremains afloat.\n\nToward the pumps the boys made their way with the assistance of the\nlife-lines, and taking the places of the weary seamen, went to work with\na will. Frank\u2019s eyes were as busy as his arms, and whenever he could get\na glimpse of the island he closely examined the long line of breakers\nbefore him, in the hope of discovering an opening in it through which\nthe Stranger could be taken to a place of safety. He could see no\nopening, but he saw something else, and that was a crowd of men running\nalong the beach.\n\nBefore Frank had time to make any further observations, one of the mates\ntapped him on the shoulder and made signs for him and his companions to\nincrease their exertions at the pumps, following up these signs by\nothers intended to convey the disagreeable information that the Stranger\nwas taking in water faster than they pumped it out. Frank understood\nhim, and so did the others; and if they had worked hard before, they\nworked harder now. The schooner was sinking, and something must be done\nto lighten her. Frank knew that this was the substance of the\ncommunication which Mr. Baldwin shouted into the ears of his commander,\nalthough he could not hear a word of it on account of the shrieking of\nthe gale, and when Uncle Dick pointed toward the thirty-pounder that\nstood in the waist, Frank knew what he had determined on. The gun was to\nbe thrown overboard, and there was no time lost in doing it, either. The\nmate removed the iron pin which held the gun-carriage to a ring in the\ndeck, and two sailors, with axes in their hands, crept to the waist by\nthe help of the life-lines. They stood there until the schooner made a\nheavy lurch to starboard, and then in obedience to a sign from the mate,\nsevered the fastenings at a blow. The piece being no longer held in\nposition slid rapidly across the deck, through an opening the waves had\nmade in the bulwarks, and disappeared in the angry waters. That was the\nlast of Long Tom. Frank was sorry to see it go, and hoped that the\nschooner was now sufficiently lightened. If she was not, the next things\nto be sacrificed would be the twenty-four pounders, and in case they\nwere thrown overboard, what would they have to defend themselves with if\nthose natives he had seen on the beach should prove to be hostile? Small\narms, even though some of them did shoot sixteen times, could not\naccomplish much against such a multitude.\n\nThe vessel being lightened and the water in the wells declared to be at\na standstill, Uncle Dick turned his attention to the island and to the\nlong line of breakers before him, which he closely examined through his\nglass. He must have discovered something that gave him encouragement,\nfor he turned quickly and issued some hasty orders which the boys could\nnot hear. But they could see them obeyed. Another jury-mast was set up,\nanother little piece of canvas given to the wind, and the course of the\nschooner was changed so that she ran diagonally across the waves,\ninstead of directly before them. She rolled fearfully after this. Wide\nseams opened in her deck and the water arose so rapidly in the wells\nthat the boys grew more frightened than ever. How much longer they would\nhave succeeded in keeping the vessel afloat under circumstances like\nthese, it is hard to tell; but fortunately the most part of the danger\nwas passed a few minutes afterward. The Stranger dashed through an\nopening in the breakers and ran into water that seemed as smooth as a\nmillpond compared with the rough sea they had just left. But the Club\nnever forgot the two minutes\u2019 suspense they endured while they were\npassing the rocks. It was awful! It seemed to them that Uncle Dick was\nguiding the schooner to certain destruction, and so frightened were they\nthat they ceased their exertions at the pumps. The water arose before\nthem like a solid wall, but it was clear there, while on each side it\nwas broken into foam by the rocks over which it passed. The noise of the\nwaves combined with the noise of the gale was almost deafening, and all\non board held their breath when a sudden jar, accompanied by a grating\nsound, which if once heard can never be forgotten, told them that the\nschooner had struck! The blow, however, was a very light one, and did no\ndamage. The next moment a friendly wave lifted her over the obstruction\nand carried her with railroad speed toward the beach. A hearty cheer\nbroke from the tired crew, and Uncle Dick pulled off his hat and drew\nhis hand across his forehead. Then the boys knew that the danger was\nover.\n\n\u201cAll ready with the anchor!\u201d shouted Uncle Dick, and that was the first\norder the boys had heard since coming on deck.\n\n\u201cAll ready, sir,\u201d was the reply.\n\nThe schooner ran on a quarter of a mile farther, the water growing more\nand more quiet the nearer she approached the beach, and then the order\nwas given to let go. The anchor was quickly got overboard, and when she\nbegan to feel its resisting power, the Stranger came about and rode\nsafely within short rifle-shot of the shore where the boys had expected\nher to lay her bones, and perhaps their own. As soon as she was fairly\nbrought up with her head to the waves, a squad of men was sent to the\npumps, and the boys tottered back, and supporting themselves by the\nfirst objects they could lay hold of, panted loudly. They were almost\nexhausted.\n\n\u201cMr. Baldwin,\u201d said Uncle Dick, \u201chave a fire started in the galley\nwithout a minute\u2019s delay, and see that the doctor serves up the best\nhe\u2019s got in the lockers to these weary men. We\u2019ll be the better for a\ncup of hot coffee.\u201d\n\nHaving given these orders, Uncle Dick came up and shook each of the boys\nby the hand with as much cordiality as he would have exhibited if he had\nnot seen them for a twelvemonth.\n\n\u201cNow that it is all over, I can tell you that awhile ago I thought it\nwas the last of us,\u201d said he. \u201cMr. Baldwin,\u201d he added, as the mate came\nup out of the galley, \u201chave the magazine lighted. Frank, I think you had\nbetter send our compliments to those fellows in the shape of a\ntwo-second shell.\u201d\n\nUncle Dick pointed over the stern, and Frank was surprised to see a\nfleet of canoes loaded with natives approaching the schooner. His mind\nhad been so completely occupied with other things that he had not\nthought of them since he saw Long Tom go overboard.\n\n\u201cPerhaps they are coming to help us,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cWell, we don\u2019t want any of their help, and you had better tell them so\nin language they will understand. Do it, too, before they come much\nnearer.\u201d\n\nIf Frank had been as cool as he usually was, and as cool as Uncle Dick\nwas in spite of the trying scenes through which he had just passed, he\nwould have seen the reason for this apparently hasty order. One glance\nat the approaching canoes would have been enough. He would have noticed\nthat those of the natives who were handling the paddles bent to their\nwork with an eagerness which showed that they were animated by something\nbesides a desire to render assistance to the distressed vessel; that the\nothers brandished their weapons about their heads in the most\nthreatening manner; and, had the wind been blowing from them toward\nhimself, he would have heard yells such as he had never heard before,\nnot even when the Indians attacked the wagon-train to which he once\nbelonged. He went to the gun, which was quietly stripped and cast loose.\nA cartridge with a shrapnel attached was driven home, and the nearest of\nthe approaching canoes was covered by the weapon.\n\n\u201cShoot to hit,\u201d said Uncle Dick. \u201cIf those Malays gain a footing on our\ndeck, our voyage will be ended sure enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll ready, sir,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cLet them have it, then,\u201d commanded Uncle Dick.\n\nThe twenty-pounder roared, and the shrapnel, true to its aim, struck the\ncrowded canoe amidships, cutting it completely in two and sending all\nher crew into the water. The destruction that followed an instant\nafterwards must have been great. The missile exploded in the very midst\nof the natives, of whom Uncle Dick said there were at least three\nhundred, and created a wonderful panic among them. They had not looked\nfor such a reception from a vessel that was little better than a wreck.\nThe whole crowd turned and made for the shore, those in the uninjured\ncanoes being in such haste to seek a place of safety that they left\ntheir companions who were struggling in the water to take care of\nthemselves as best they could. As the fleet separated a little, Uncle\nDick surveyed the scene with his glass, and announced that the shot had\nbeen well-directed, four boatloads of natives having been emptied out\ninto the bay.\n\n\u201cPerhaps they will let us alone now,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cIt will not be safe to relax our vigilance as long as we stay here,\nsimply because they have been once repulsed,\u201d returned Uncle Dick. \u201cI\nknow what those fellows are, for I have had some experience with them.\nThey have been thrashed repeatedly by our own and English vessels of\nwar, but they soon forget it and act as badly as ever. A man who falls\ninto their hands never escapes to tell how he was treated. Now, Frank,\nload that gun and secure it; and Mr. Baldwin, have a sentry kept on that\nquarter-deck night and day, with orders to watch that shore as closely\nas ever\u2014Eh? What\u2019s the matter?\u201d\n\nThe officer in reply pointed seaward. Uncle Dick and the boys looked,\nand were horrified to see a large ship in the offing, drifting\nhelplessly before the gale.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n A CHANGE OF PROGRAMME.\n\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the same ship we saw at the beginning of the cyclone,\u201d said\nFrank. \u201cI know her by her white hull and the black stripe above her\nwater-line.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeaven help her,\u201d said Uncle Dick, \u201cfor we can\u2019t.\u201d\n\nThe rest of the schooner\u2019s company could say nothing. They could only\nstand and watch the hapless vessel, which the angry waves tossed about\nas if she had been a boy\u2019s plaything. Like the Stranger, she was\ncompletely dismantled. The stump of her mizzenmast was standing, and\nthere was something in her bow that looked like a jury-mast, with a\nlittle piece of canvas fluttering from it. This was probably the\nremnants of the storm-sail that had been hoisted to give the vessel\nsteerageway, but it had been blown into shreds by the gale, and now the\ngreat ship was helpless. As she drifted along before the waves she would\nnow and then disappear so suddenly when one broke over her, and remain\nout of sight so long, that the anxious spectators thought they had seen\nthe last of her. But she always came up again, and nearer the\nthreatening reefs than before. Her destruction was only a question of\ntime, and a very few minutes\u2019 time too, for she was too close to the\nrocks now to reach the opening through which the schooner had passed,\neven had her captain been aware of its existence, and able to get any\ncanvas on his vessel. The boys looked on with blanched cheeks and\nbeating hearts, and some of them turned away and went into the cabin\nthat they might not see the terrible sight.\n\nIn striking contrast to these exhibitions of sympathy from the\nschooner\u2019s company was the delight the natives on shore manifested when\nthey discovered the doomed ship. They gathered in a body on the beach\nopposite the point on the reefs where the vessel seemed destined to\nstrike, and danced, and shouted, and flourished their weapons, just as\nthey had done when the Stranger first hove in sight. The ship and her\ncargo, which the waves would bring ashore as fast as the hull was broken\nup, would prove a rich booty to them. Perhaps, too, a few prisoners\nmight fall into their hands, and on these the relatives and friends of\nthose who had been killed by Frank\u2019s shot could take ample vengeance.\n\n\u201cMr. Baldwin,\u201d said Uncle Dick, suddenly, \u201chave the boats put into the\nwater. I don\u2019t know that it will be of any use,\u201d he added, turning to\nFrank, \u201cfor it doesn\u2019t look to me, from here, as though a human being\ncould pass through those breakers alive. But a sailor will stand a world\nof pounding, and if one gets through with a breath in him, we must be on\nhand to keep him from falling into the power of those wretches on\nshore.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you going to send the boats out there, Uncle Dick?\u201d exclaimed\nEugene. \u201cYou mustn\u2019t go. The natives would fill you full of arrows and\nspears.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be uneasy,\u201d said the old sailor. \u201cThe mates will go, and Frank\nwill see that the savages are kept out of range of the boats.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you open fire on them? So you can. I didn\u2019t think of that.\u201d\n\nThe schooner\u2019s boats, which were stowed on deck, and which had\nfortunately been but slightly damaged by the gale, were quickly put into\nthe water. Then Uncle Dick, having mustered the crew, told them what he\nwanted to do, and called for volunteers, and there was not a man who was\ntoo weary to lend a hand to the distressed strangers. Every one of them\nstepped forward. The best oarsmen were selected and ordered over the\nside, the mates took command, and the boats pulled away behind the reefs\nto place themselves in a position to assist any one who might survive\nthe wreck. Their departure was announced by another shrapnel from the\ntwenty-four pounder on the quarter-deck, which the natives on shore\nregarded as Uncle Dick intended they should regard it\u2014as a hint that\ntheir presence on the beach was most undesirable. They took to their\nheels in hot haste the instant they saw the smoke arise from the\nschooner\u2019s deck, but some of them were not quick enough in their\nmovements to escape the danger. The shrapnel ploughed through the sand\nat their feet, and, exploding, scattered death on every side. Frank was\namazed at the effect.\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d said Uncle Dick, who thought by the expression he saw on\nthe face of his young friend that he did not much like the work, \u201cthey\nwould serve us worse than that if they had the power. They are fifty or\na hundred to our one, and as we must remain here for a month at least,\nour safety can only be secured by teaching them a lesson now that they\nwill not forget as long as the Stranger is in sight. Keep it up.\u201d\n\nAnd Frank did keep it up. He threw his shells at regular\nintervals\u2014firing slowly so as not to heat the gun\u2014and dropped them first\nin one part of the woods, and then in another, to show the natives that\nthere was no place of safety anywhere within range of his little\nDahlgren. Having found a safe passage for the boats along the beach, he\nturned to look at the ship once more. She was close upon the reefs. Even\nas he looked she was lifted on the crest of a tremendous billow and\ncarried toward them with lightning speed. Frank turned away his head,\nfor he could not endure the sight, and even Uncle Dick\u2019s weather-beaten\nface wore an expression of alarm that no one had seen there when his own\nvessel was battling with the gale a short half hour before. The shock of\nthe collision must have been fearful, and Frank, who had thus far clung\nto the hope that some of the crew might be saved, lost all heart now.\nThe sea made quick work with what was left of the ship. She began to go\nto pieces at once, and portions of the hull, as fast as they were broken\noff by the waves and the friction of the rocks, were hurled through the\nbreakers toward the beach.\n\n\u201cIt is just dreadful, isn\u2019t it?\u201d said George, who had kept close at\nFrank\u2019s side. \u201cI remember that the first time I saw a ship in New\nOrleans, I looked at her beams and braces, and wondered how it was\npossible for so strong a craft to be wrecked. This one is no more than a\nchip in a millpond.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn element that sometimes exerts a force of six thousand pounds to the\nsquare foot, and which has been known to move great rocks weighing forty\ntons and over, is a terrible enemy to do battle with,\u201d replied Frank.\n\n\u201cI am afraid the poor fellows are all gone, and that our boats will be\nof no use out there,\u201d said Uncle Dick, \u201cI can\u2019t see anybody.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can,\u201d exclaimed Archie, who had kept his glass directed toward the\nship. \u201cDon\u2019t you see his head bobbing up and down with that mast, or\nspar, or whatever it is? He is the only one I have seen thus far.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne life is well worth saving,\u201d returned Uncle Dick. \u201cThe boats have\ndiscovered him, have they not? I see one of them pulling toward the\nbreakers.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir; and now they\u2019ve got him, or what the breakers have left of\nhim,\u201d replied Archie, joyously. \u201cThey\u2019re hauling him in.\u201d\n\nAll the crew could see that now without the aid of glasses, and when the\nhalf-drowned man was safe in the boat, their satisfaction found vent in\nloud and long-continued cheers. After that more cheers were given, for,\nas the hull went to pieces, the boys saw several heads bobbing about in\nthe angry waters; and although some of them did not pass the breakers,\nothers did, and those who reached the smooth water on the other side\nwere promptly rescued by the boats. Archie called out the number of the\nsaved as fast as he saw them taken from the water, and when he said,\n\u201cThat makes eleven,\u201d Uncle Dick\u2019s surprise and delight were almost\nunbounded.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see how in the world they ever got through those breakers,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cbut I\u2019m glad all the same that they did. There\u2019s no loss\nwithout some gain. If we hadn\u2019t been blown in here not one of those\neleven men, that we may be the means of restoring to home and friends\nonce more, would have been left to tell how his ship was destroyed.\nWe\u2019re in a scrape that it will take us a good month to work out of, but\nwe have lost none of our little company, and are still able to be of\nservice to those who are worse off than ourselves. Do you see any more,\nArchie?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir. There are a good many pieces of the wreck going through, but I\nsee no more men. They are transferring all the rescued to one boat now.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s right. They\u2019re going to bring them aboard. Doctor, keep up a\nroaring fire in the galley, and you, men, go below and put on some dry\nclothes, and lay out a suit apiece for these poor fellows who have none\nof their own to put on.\u201d\n\nThe second mate\u2019s boat remained on the ground to pick up any other\nunfortunates who might survive the passage of the breakers, while Mr.\nBaldwin turned back to take those already rescued on board the schooner.\nThe boys awaited his approach with no little impatience. They wanted to\nbe the first to assist the strangers over the side; but when the boat\ncame up they drew back almost horrified. The rescued men lay motionless\non the bottom of the cutter, and there was only one among them who had\nlife enough left in him to hold up his head. Utterly exhausted with\ntheir long conflict with the gale, and bruised and battered by the\nrocks, they were hoisted aboard more dead than alive, and tenderly\ncarried into the forecastle and laid upon the bunks. Uncle Dick was kept\nbusy after that bandaging wounds and administering restoratives from the\nschooner\u2019s medicine-chest, and the boys, who wanted to help but did not\nknow what to do, stood on deck at the head of the ladder watching him.\n\n\u201cI wish we were all doctors,\u201d said Archie, at length. \u201cI don\u2019t like to\nstand here with my hands in my pockets, and if I were to go down there I\nmight be in the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt you would,\u201d said his cousin. \u201cBut still there is something we\ncan do. We can relieve the crew and give them a chance to sleep. I\u2019ll\nspeak to Mr. Baldwin.\u201d\n\nSo saying, Frank hurried off and held a short consultation with the\nfirst officer. When he came forward again he announced with a great show\nof dignity that he was the officer of the deck now, and expected to be\nobeyed accordingly. With an assumption of authority that made all the\nboys laugh, he ordered Archie to relieve the sentry on the quarter-deck,\nplaced Bob and Perk to act as anchor watch, and after telling the others\nthat they might lie down and take a nap if they chose, he placed his\nhands behind his back and began planking the weather side of the\nquarter-deck.\n\nMr. Baldwin was much pleased with this arrangement, for it gave him and\nthe rest of the crew an opportunity to obtain the rest and sleep of\nwhich they stood so much in need. Uncle Dick was satisfied with it, too.\nThe latter came out of the forecastle about midnight, and when he called\nfor the officer of the deck was promptly answered by Frank, who in a few\nwords explained the situation to him. \u201cHave we done right?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cPerfectly,\u201d replied Uncle Dick. \u201cIt was kind and thoughtful in you, and\nI thank you for it. Our poor fellows are almost worn out, and it is a\npity they can\u2019t have beds to sleep in,\u201d he added, glancing at the\nstalwart sailors who were stretched out on the deck, slumbering heavily.\n\u201cIf you and the rest of the boys can stand it until morning they will be\nrefreshed, and a good breakfast will put them in a fit condition for\nwork.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, we can stand it,\u201d said Frank, \u201cand will do the best we can.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no fears. I know you will do just what ought to be done. All you\nhave to do is to see that the anchor holds, and keep your weather eye\ndirected toward the island. The night is pretty dark, and you must look\nout for a surprise, for these natives are bold and cunning. If you see\nor hear anything suspicious, bang away without stopping to call me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d said Frank. \u201cHow are our friends below?\u201d\n\n\u201cPretty well pounded, some of them, but I think they will be about soon.\nThey must have had a hard time by all accounts, but the trouble is they\ndon\u2019t all tell the same story, and there is no officer among them of\nwhom I can make inquiries. They are all foremast hands. One says their\nship, the Sea Gull, was just from Melbourne, and another says she was\nfrom Hobart Town, Tasmania.\u201d\n\n\u201cTasmania!\u201d repeated Frank. \u201cThat used to be called Van Diemen\u2019s Land.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; and if four of our new friends ought not to be back there at this\nminute, I am very much mistaken.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre they convicts?\u201d asked Frank, drawing a long breath.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know. Wait till you see them, and then tell me what you think\nabout it. This trouble is going to interfere with our arrangements a\ntrifle. This being our second break-up, we have but few spars and little\nspare canvas left, so we can only refit here temporarily\u2014in other words,\nput up such rigging as will last until we can reach some port where we\ncan go into the docks and have a regular overhauling. If we are going to\nNatal we must cross the Indian Ocean, and I don\u2019t want to venture near\nthe Mauritius with a leaky vessel. It blows too hard there sometimes. We\nhave been driven a long way out of our course, and if my calculations\nare correct, our nearest port is Hobart Town. We\u2019ll go there, and while\nthe vessel is being refitted we\u2019ll take a run back into the country and\nsee how the sheep and cattle herders live. We shall be obliged to stay\nthere a month or two, and perhaps by the time we are ready to sail again\nyou boys will decide that you don\u2019t want to go to Japan. If you do, it\nwill suit me. By the way, I wish you would step into the forecastle\nevery half hour or so and see if those men want anything. Good-night.\u201d\n\nUncle Dick went down into his cabin, and Frank walked off where Archie\nstood leaning on his musket and watching the island, whose dim outlines\ncould just be seen through the darkness. \u201cDo you hear or see anything?\u201d\nhe asked.\n\n\u201cNothing at all,\u201d answered Archie. \u201cIt is dull business, this standing\nguard when there\u2019s nothing going on.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll relieve you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no; you stay here and talk to me, and I will hold the musket. What\nwas it Uncle Dick said about going back to Japan?\u201d\n\nFrank repeated the conversation he had had with the captain, adding:\n\n\u201cYou know his heart is set on going to Natal, and I believe that was one\nreason why he undertook this voyage. He has often told me that he would\ngo a long distance just to see a wild elephant once more. If we waste\nmuch more time on our journey we can\u2019t stay a great while in Africa.\nUncle Dick\u2019s wishes ought to be respected.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course they must be,\u201d said Archie, quickly. \u201cWell, I\u2019d as soon go to\nAustralia as to Japan. Perhaps we\u2019ll have a chance to knock over a\nkangaroo, and that\u2019s an animal I\u2019ve never seen yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not sure that they are to be found in Van Diemen\u2019s Land,\u201d said\nFrank.\n\n\u201cVan Diemen\u2019s Land!\u201d echoed Archie. \u201cThat\u2019s a convict settlement.\u201d\n\nFrank nodded his head.\n\n\u201cWell, I am just as near the fine fellows who live there as I want to\nbe,\u201d said his cousin.\n\n\u201cPerhaps you are nearer to some of them at this minute than you imagine.\nWhat would you say if you should see four of them come on deck to-morrow\nmorning?\u201d\n\nArchie raised his musket to his shoulder, and looked at his cousin. \u201cDid\nUncle Dick say that there are four of them among these strangers?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, he didn\u2019t say so, but I know he thinks so.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhew!\u201d whistled Archie; \u201chere\u2019s fun. I wonder if they wouldn\u2019t be kind\nenough to get up some excitement for us if we should ask them?\u201d\n\n\u201cHaven\u2019t you had enough during the last few days? I have.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s too much of a sameness about these gales and cyclones. We want\na change\u2014something new.\u201d\n\nArchie afterward had occasion to recall this remark. Before many weeks\nhad passed over his head he found that the men of whom he was speaking\nwere quite willing to give him all the excitement he wanted, and that,\ntoo, without waiting to be asked to do so.\n\n\u201cBut, after all, what can they do?\u201d asked Archie, after thinking a\nmoment. \u201cThey are only four in number, and Dick Lewis and Rodgers can\ntake care of them.\u201d\n\nWith this reflection to comfort him, Archie once more turned his\nattention to the island, and Frank went forward to see how the anchor\nwatch were getting on, and to tell them and the rest of the unwelcome\ndiscovery Uncle Dick had made. Of course the boys were all interested\nand excited, and wished that morning would come so that they might see\nwhat sort of looking fellows the convicts were. Frank also told them of\nthe change Uncle Dick proposed to make in their route ahead, and they\nwere all satisfied with it.\n\nNothing happened that night that is worthy of record. The wearied\nsailors slumbered in safety, while Frank and his companions looked out\nfor the vessel, and walked the deck, and told stories to keep themselves\nawake. The Stranger dragged twice before morning, but each time a little\nmore chain was let out, and finally enough weight was added to her\nanchor to make her ride securely. Frank visited the forecastle every\nhalf hour to hand a glass of water to one of the rescued men, or moisten\nthe bandages of another, and during these visits he picked out four of\nthe patients whom he thought to be the escaped convicts. One of them was\nthe nearest approach to a giant he had ever seen. Even Dick Lewis would\nhave looked small beside him. He reminded Frank of Boson, the third mate\nof the Tycoon, only he was a great deal larger and stronger. The man was\nsleeping soundly, and Frank leaned against his bunk and took a good look\nat him.\n\n\u201cIf these four fellows should attempt any mischief, I don\u2019t know whether\nDick and Rodgers could take care of them or not,\u201d thought he. \u201cI\u2019m\nafraid they\u2019d have their hands full with this one man.\u201d\n\nFrank went on deck feeling as he had never felt before. He was not sorry\nthat the man had been saved from the breakers, but somehow he could not\nhelp wishing that he had been picked up by some vessel besides the\nStranger. If there was any faith to be put in appearances, the man was\nbut little better than a brute, and Frank told himself that the sooner\nthey reached some port and put him ashore, the sooner he would feel at\nhis ease again.\n\nUncle Dick came on deck at 5 o\u2019clock, and the boys all went below to\ntake a short nap; but their short nap turned out to be a long one, for\nhaving had no sleep worth mentioning for four nights in succession, they\nwere lost in a dreamless slumber almost as soon as they touched their\nbunks, and it was twelve o\u2019clock before they awoke. Then they were\naroused by the roar of the twenty-four pounder over their heads. They\nstarted up in great alarm, and pulling on their clothes with all\npossible haste, rushed to the deck expecting to find the natives\napproaching to attack the vessel, and perhaps clambering over the side.\nBut they were most agreeably disappointed. About half of the crew of the\nStranger, aided by some of the rescued men, were busy setting things to\nrights, and a short distance from the schooner was the cutter, which was\npulling toward the beach.\n\n\u201cDid I frighten you?\u201d asked Uncle Dick, as the boys crowded up the\nladder. \u201cYour faces say I did. That boat out there is going ashore after\nsome timber for spars, and that shrapnel was a notice to the natives to\nkeep out of the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said the boys, who were all greatly relieved.\n\nThey took another look at the boat, ran their eyes along the beach to\nmake sure that there were no natives in sight, and then turned their\nattention to the rescued men, who were working with the crew. There were\nfive of them\u2014Uncle Dick said the others were not yet able to leave their\nbunks\u2014and conspicuous among them was the giant whom Frank had picked out\nas one of the escaped convicts. All the boys opened their eyes as they\nlooked at him. Even Frank was astonished. Now that he could see the\nwhole of him he looked larger than he did while he was lying in his\nbunk. \u201cWhat do you think of him, Mr. Baldwin?\u201d asked Eugene, after\ntrying in vain to induce his uncle to express an opinion.\n\n\u201cI think there is only one place in the world that he\u2019s fit for,\u201d was\nthe reply.\n\n\u201cWhat place is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe place he came from.\u201d\n\nSome other conversation followed, and when the boys went below they told\none another that Mr. Baldwin fully expected that Waters\u2014that was the\nname the giant had given\u2014would occasion trouble sooner or later. \u201cAnd if\nhe once gets started it will take all the men in the vessel to subdue\nhim,\u201d said Eugene, somewhat anxiously.\n\n\u201cWill it?\u201d exclaimed Archie. \u201cI can show you one who will manage him\nalone.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is he?\u201d\n\n\u201cDick Lewis.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow let me tell you what\u2019s a fact,\u201d said Perk. \u201cDick can\u2019t stand up\nagainst an avalanche.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll see,\u201d said Archie, who had unbounded confidence in his backwoods\nfriend. \u201cYou\u2019ll see.\u201d\n\nAnd sure enough they did.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER V.\n THE TWO CHAMPIONS.\n\n\nFor a week nothing occurred to relieve the dull monotony of their life.\nThe crew worked early and late, and under the skilful hands of the\ncarpenter and his assistants the masts, spars, and booms that were to\ntake the place of those that had been lost during the gale, began to\nassume shape, and were finally ready for setting up. The timber of which\nthe most of them were made was brought from the shore, and Frank kept\nsuch close watch over the boats, and the crews and workmen who went off\nin them, that the natives never molested them. If the Malays had kept\nout of sight on the first day of their arrival, the boys might have\nbelieved the island to be uninhabited, for they saw no signs of life\nthere now.\n\nOn board the schooner everything was done decently and in order, as it\nalways was. The rescued men were all on their feet now, and able to do\nduty. All but four of them\u2014those suspected of being escaped\nconvicts\u2014were able seamen, and these lent willing and effective aid in\nthe work of refitting the vessel. They were all Englishmen, but for some\nreason or other they were not as arrogant and overbearing as the\nmajority of their countrymen seem to be, and the best of feeling\nprevailed between them and the Stranger\u2019s crew.\n\nFor a few days Waters conducted himself with the utmost propriety. He\nseemed to be awed by his recent narrow escape from death, and so\nentirely wrapped up in his meditations that he could hardly be induced\nto speak to anybody. But the impressions he had received gradually wore\noff as his bruises and scratches began to heal and his strength to come\nback to him, and he assumed an impudent swagger as he went about his\nwork, that made the second mate look at him pretty sharply. He recovered\nthe use of his tongue too, and began to talk in a way that did not suit\nthe old boatswain\u2019s mate, who one day sternly commanded him to work more\nand jaw less. This reprimand kept Waters in shape for a day or two, and\nthen he appeared to gain confidence again, and got himself into a\ndifficulty that was rather more serious. Swaggering aft one morning\nafter breakfast with a borrowed pipe in his mouth, he suddenly found\nhimself confronted by the officer of the deck, who stepped before him.\n\n\u201cYou have no business back here,\u201d said Mr. Parker. \u201cGo for\u2019ard where you\nbelong.\u201d\n\nWaters took his pipe out of his mouth, and drawing himself up to his\nfull height, scowled down at the officer, \u201cLook \u2019ere,\u201d said he, with his\nEnglish twang; \u201chif you knowed me, you\u2019d know hit\u2019s jist a trifle\ndangerous for heny man of your hinches to stand afore me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am second mate of this vessel,\u201d answered Mr. Parker, hotly, \u201cand any\nmore such language as that will get you in the brig. Go for\u2019ard where\nyou belong.\u201d\n\nLike a surly hound that had been beaten by his master, Waters turned\nabout and went back to the forecastle. He was sullen all that day, and\n\u201csoldiered\u201d\u2014that is, shirked his work\u2014so persistently that the old\nboatswain\u2019s mate was almost beside himself.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t like the cut of that fellow\u2019s jib, cap\u2019n,\u201d said Barton, as he\nranged up alongside of Frank that night after the boats had been hoisted\nat the davits, and the boarding nettings triced up. \u201cHe\u2019s spoiling for a\nrow. He says if Lucas calls him a lubber again he\u2019s going to knock him\ndown. He\u2019s no good. Do you know what he was going aft for this morning?\nWell, I do. He was going to take a look at the old man\u2019s strong box. You\nknow it stands in the cabin right where you can see it through the\nskylights.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did he want to take a look at the strong box?\u201d asked Frank. \u201cHas he\nany designs upon it?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he hasn\u2019t, what makes him ask so many questions, sir?\u201d asked the\ncoxswain, in reply. \u201cHe\u2019s pumped the crew, easy like, till he\u2019s found\nout everything. He wanted to know how much we got a month, and when one\nof the men told him that we could each have a handful of bright new\nyellow-boys to spend in our next port if we wanted it, but that the old\nman had advised us, friendly like, to leave all our earnings in his\nhands and he would pay us interest on it at the end of the cruise, same\nas the bank\u2014when he found this out he wanted to know where the old man\nkept his money and how much he had. Now what did he want to know that\nfor, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, indeed!\u201d thought Frank, as Barton hurried away in obedience to\nsome orders. \u201cHe will bear watching, I think. I wish he was safe\nashore.\u201d\n\nFrank lost no time in making Uncle Dick acquainted with what he had\nheard. The old sailor looked grave while he listened, and although he\nsaid nothing in Frank\u2019s hearing, he told Mr. Baldwin privately to keep\nWaters so busily employed that he would have no time to think of\nmischief, and at the very first sign of insubordination to promptly put\nhim where he would be powerless to work harm to the vessel or any of her\ncrew. Waters made the sign the very next morning. At five o\u2019clock he was\nordered to assist in pumping out the schooner, and he obeyed with\naltogether too much deliberation to suit Lucas, who was accustomed to\nsee men hurry when they were spoken to. This was the way Waters always\nobeyed an order. He seemed to think he could do as he pleased, and no\none would dare take him to task for it. But when the old boatswain\u2019s\nmate was on duty he was on duty all over, and any of his men who\nneglected their work were sure to be called to account. He had been very\npatient with Waters because he was a landsman, but he could not stand\n\u201csoldiering.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish this was a man-o\u2019-war now, and that flogging had not been\nabolished,\u201d said Lucas, as Waters came slowly up to the pump, staring\nimpudently at the mate as if to ask him what he was going to do about\nit. \u201cIt would do me good to start you with a cat-o\u2019-nine tails.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think the likes o\u2019 you could use a cat on me now?\u201d sneered\nWaters.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve used it on many a better man,\u201d was the quick reply. \u201cMake haste,\nyou lubber. I\u2019ll stand this no longer. I\u2019ll report\u201d\u2014\n\nWhat it was that the old mate was going to report he did not have time\nto tell, for Waters suddenly drew one of his huge fists back to his\nshoulder, and when he straightened it out again Lucas went spinning\nacross the deck, rolling over and over, and finally bringing up against\nthe bulwarks. Every one who saw it\u2014and every one who belonged to the\nschooner was on deck, except her captain\u2014was amazed at the ease with\nwhich it was done.\n\nOf course the excitement ran high at once. During the two years and more\nthat had passed since the schooner left Bellville, a blow had never been\nstruck on her deck, and never had an oath been heard there until these\nrescued men were brought aboard. The whole crew arose as one man, not to\npunish the offender for striking the petty officer, but to secure him\nbefore he could do any more mischief. But Waters was fairly aroused, and\nacted more like a mad brute than a human being. He backed up against the\nbulwarks, and in less time than it takes to tell it, prostrated the\nentire front rank of his assailants, including Barton, Rodgers, the\nDoctor, as the cook was called, and the old gray-headed sailor who\nhad so badly frightened Dick Lewis by telling him that one of the\nSandwich Islands was the equator, and that when they passed it they\nwould be on the under side of the earth.\n\nHaving cleared a space in front of him, Waters sprang to the windlass,\nand seizing a handspike, was back against the bulwarks again before any\none could prevent him. \u201cStand by me, mates,\u201d he roared, \u201cand we\u2019ll take\nthe ship. Back me hup, and we\u2019ll drive these Yankees hover among the\nsharks.\u201d\n\n\u201cI declare!\u201d gasped Eugene, who was the first of the frightened boys who\ncould find his tongue, \u201che\u2019s started at last, and he\u2019ll walk across the\ndeck with that handspike as though there was no one here. The best men\nin the crew are like so many straws in his way.\u201d\n\nAll these incidents which we have been so long in describing, occupied\nbut a very few seconds in taking place. Before the astonished officer of\nthe deck could recover himself sufficiently to command the peace, Waters\nhad complete possession of the forecastle. And even when the officer did\nrecover himself the orders he issued might as well have been addressed\nto the mast, for Waters paid no attention to them.\n\n\u201cDrop that handspike,\u201d shouted Mr. Baldwin, starting forward.\n\n\u201cYes, I\u2019ll drop it no doubt,\u201d replied Waters. \u201cYou remember what you\nsaid to me yesterday, don\u2019t you, you fellow with the gold band around\nyour cap? Look hout for yourself, for I\u2019m coming for you now.\u201d\n\nWaters was as good as his word. Swinging his handspike viciously about\nhis head to clear a path before him, he started aft; but before he had\nmade many steps he ran against something, just as Archie had predicted.\nDick Lewis and old Bob Kelly had stood silent and amazed spectators of\nthe scene, and Archie, who had expected so much of his backwoods friend\nin case of disturbance, forgot that he was present. But now the trapper\ncalled attention to himself by giving one or two fierce Indian yells,\nlike those that had so often rung in his ears while he was battling with\nor fleeing from his sworn enemies.\n\n\u201cWhoop! Whoop!\u201d yelled Dick.\n\nThe boys looked towards him and saw that he had prepared himself for\naction by discarding his hat and pushing back his sleeves. Then he\ncrouched like a panther about to make a spring, and in a second more was\nflying across the deck like an arrow from a bow. Waters saw him coming,\nand halting, drew back his handspike in readiness to receive him. As the\ntrapper approached within striking distance, the weapon descended with\nsuch speed and power that the boys all uttered an exclamation of horror,\nand Frank involuntarily started forward as if to shield his friend from\nthe blow that seemed about to annihilate him. But Dick was in no need of\nhelp. Long experience had taught him how to take care of himself in any\nemergency. A flash of lightning is scarcely quicker than was the\nmovement he made to avoid the descending weapon. It passed harmlessly\nthrough the air over his head, and the force with which it was driven\nsent Waters sideways into the arms of the trapper, while the handspike\nflew from his grasp and went over the side.\n\n\u201cStand by me, mates!\u201d roared the giant, as he felt the trapper\u2019s strong\narms closing about him with crushing power.\n\nThis was all he had time to say\u2014he was not allowed an instant in which\nto do anything\u2014for before the words had fairly left his lips he was\nthrown to the deck with stunning force, and held as firmly as if he had\nbeen in a vice. Just then Uncle Dick appeared on the scene.\n\u201cMaster-at-arms!\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cHere, sir,\u201d replied the petty officer, stepping forward. He knew that\nhis services would be required and he was all ready to act. He had a\npair of irons in his hand\u2014something the boys did not suppose could be\nfound in the schooner\u2019s outfit.\n\n\u201cPut them on,\u201d said Uncle Dick. \u201cNow, Lewis,\u201d he added, after the\nruffian\u2019s hands and ankles had been securely confined, \u201clet him up.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan\u2019t I give him just one leetle whack for every man he\u2019s knocked down,\ncap\u2019n?\u201d asked the trapper, flourishing one of his clenched hands in the\nair.\n\n\u201cLet him up,\u201d repeated Uncle Dick.\n\nThe backwoodsman obeyed the order very reluctantly. He arose to his\nfeet, pulling his antagonist up with him.\n\n\u201cWaters, is this the way you repay us for saving your worthless life?\u201d\ndemanded Uncle Dick, sternly. \u201cSome of the men you struck were the very\nones who kept you from falling into the hands of the savages on shore.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll pay you for it hall afore I am done with you,\u201d gasped the\nprisoner, panting from the violence of his exertions. \u201cHand you, my\nfriend in buckskin, I\u2019ll see you some other day when this thing\u2014\u201d\n\n[Illustration: WATERS FINDS HIS MASTER.]\n\n\u201cSilence!\u201d commanded Uncle Dick.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s honly one way to stop my talking and that is to stop my\nbreath,\u201d declared Waters, boldly.\n\n\u201cYou will go without food for twenty-four hours for every word you\nutter,\u201d replied Uncle Dick. \u201cMaster-at-arms, take him down and put him\nin the brig. Mr. Baldwin,\u201d he continued, in a lower tone, \u201chave a sentry\nput over him with orders to allow him to hold communication with no\none.\u201d\n\nThe fear of being starved into submission effectually closed the\nprisoner\u2019s mouth, and without another word he allowed the master-at-arms\nto lead him below. The boys breathed easier when they saw his head\ndisappear below the combings of the hatchway.\n\n\u201cHow did this trouble begin, Mr. Baldwin?\u201d demanded Uncle Dick.\n\nThe officer told him in a few words and the captain said, with a smile,\n\n\u201cThat is a good deal of work to be done in so short a space of time. I\ncame on deck as soon as I could get up from the table. When we reach\nHobart Town I\u2019ll teach this fellow that he can\u2019t strike my men with\nimpunity. You say he called for help from his friends. Did they seem\ninclined to give it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir, one of them did. He picked up a handspike, but lacked the\ncourage to use it. The other two stood still and looked on.\u201d\n\n\u201cSend them to the mast, Mr. Baldwin. They all belong to the same class,\nand it may be well to have a fair understanding with them.\u201d\n\nMr. Baldwin passed the order to the old boatswain\u2019s mate, who was going\nabout his work with an eye bunged up, and presently Waters\u2019s three\nfriends came to the mast and respectfully removed their caps. There was\nno swagger or bluster about them. The defeat of their champion had cowed\nthem completely. Uncle Dick first explained why he had brought them\nthere, and then for five minutes talked to them in a way the boys had\nnever heard him talk before. Even Walter and Eugene were surprised to\nknow that their jolly uncle could be so stern and severe. He used words\nthat the men before him could readily understand. He bluntly told them\nthat they were escaped convicts (the start they gave when they heard\nthis showed that he had hit the nail fairly on the head), and that he\nwas just the man to deal with such characters as they were. He would rid\nhis vessel of their unwelcome presence as soon as he could, and give her\na good scrubbing from stem to stern after they went. He did not want\nthem there, but while they stayed they must walk a chalk-mark; and if he\nheard so much as a mutinous eye-wink from any of them, he would show\nthem that the discipline that was maintained on board the Stranger could\nbe made as severe as that to which they had been subjected by their\nprison taskmasters. That was all, and they might go forward and bear\neverything he had said to them constantly in mind.\n\nThe suspected men, glad to be let off so easily, returned to their work,\nand we may anticipate events a little by saying that they took the old\nsailor at his word, and never made the schooner\u2019s company the least\ntrouble\u2014that is, they made them no trouble before they reached Hobart\nTown, whither the Stranger went to refit. What they did afterward is\nanother matter; we have not come to that yet. We may also say that the\ntrapper won a high place in the estimation of all the foremast hands by\nthe exploit he performed that morning. He had peace after that. None of\nthe sailors ever told him any more stories about the Flying Dutchman,\nthe squids, and the whale that swallowed Jonah. It was not because they\nwere afraid of him\u2014no one who behaved himself could look into the\ntrapper\u2019s wild gray eye and feel the least fear of him\u2014but because they\nwanted to reward him for what he had done. When the crew assembled\naround the mess-chest at meals Dick was always the first one waited upon\nby the mess-cook, and if any of the blue jackets found a tit-bit in the\npan, it was always transferred to Dick\u2019s plate. Old Bob also came in for\na large share of their attention, and it was not long before these\nlittle acts of kindness so worked upon the feelings of the two trappers,\nthat they declared that if the schooner wouldn\u2019t pitch about so with the\nwaves, and they could have a chance to use their rifles now and then,\nthey would as soon be there among the sailors as in the mountains.\n\nOf course the exciting scene of which they had been the unwilling\nwitnesses produced a commotion among the boys, who for a long time could\ntalk about nothing else. If they ever forgot it, one glance at the\nbattered face which the old boatswain\u2019s mate carried about with him\nwould instantly recall it, and set their tongues in motion again. The\nease with which the supple trapper had vanquished his huge antagonist,\nwas the occasion of unbounded astonishment to all of them except Frank\nand Archie. The latter always wound up the conversation by saying:\n\n\u201cDidn\u2019t I tell you that Waters would run against a stump if he attempted\nany foolishness? You have heard the expression \u2019as quick as lightning,\u2019\nand now you know what it means. Hold on till we get ashore,\u201d he added,\none day, \u201cand I\u2019ll show you some more of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are you going to do?\u201d asked Fred.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll borrow or hire a horse somewhere, and run a race with Dick.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa!\u201d exclaimed Eugene, \u201cI know from what you have said that the trapper\nmust be very fleet, but he can\u2019t beat a good horse if _I_ ride him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe can run a hundred yards, and turn and run back to the\nstarting-point, and beat the swiftest horse that ever moved,\u201d replied\nArchie, emphatically, \u201cand you may ride the horse.\u201d\n\nThe boys looked toward Frank, who confirmed Archie\u2019s statement by saying\nthat he had seen him win a race of that description, but still they were\nnot satisfied. It was a novel idea to them, this matching a man\u2019s\nlightness of foot against the speed of a horse, and they longed for an\nopportunity to see the swift trapper put to the test.\n\nMeanwhile the work of refitting the vessel went steadily on. Having a\nlarge force at his command, the work was accomplished in much less time\nthan the captain expected it could be done. The question whether their\nproposed visit to Japan and India should be given up was discussed, and\ndecided in the affirmative. Uncle Dick gave the boys their choice of two\ncourses of action: they could carry out their original plan, spend a few\nweeks in Asia, and after they had seen all they wanted to see they would\nstart directly for home by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, stopping\nduring the voyage only when it was necessary to take in fresh supplies\nof food and water; or they would go to Natal, purchase there a trader\u2019s\noutfit, and spend a few months travelling about in the interior of\nAfrica, skirmishing with the strange animals they would find there. In\neither case they must first go to the nearest port, and have the\nschooner completely overhauled and refitted. She had been badly strained\nby the gale, and her captain did not consider her safe. The boys decided\non the latter course simply because they knew Uncle Dick wished it.\n\nThis was the first time during the voyage that anything had been said\nabout going \u201chome,\u201d and the simple sound of the word was enough to set\nthem to thinking. Up to this time they had been going away from their\nnative land; but now every mile which the schooner passed over brought\nthem nearer to the loved ones they had left behind.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n THE CONSUL\u2019S \u201cCLARK.\u201d\n\n\nFinally, to the Club\u2019s great relief, the work was all done. The masts\nhad been stepped, the sails bent on, the last ratline knotted, and Uncle\nDick only waited for a high tide to carry the schooner over the coral\nreef that marked the entrance to the bay. When the proper moment arrived\nthe crew gladly responded to the order of the old boatswain\u2019s mate, \u201cAll\nhands stand by to get ship under way!\u201d and to the enlivening strains of\n\u201cThe girl I left behind me,\u201d which Eugene played on his flute, walked\nthe little vessel up to her anchor. Then the sails were trimmed to catch\nthe breeze, the star-spangled banner was run up to the peak, and the\nlonely island echoed to the unwonted sound of a national salute. The\nfirst two guns were shotted and were pointed toward the island, as a\nparting token of the estimation in which its inhabitants were held by\nthe schooner\u2019s company, and the other eleven were fired with blank\ncartridges.\n\nThe boys could not help shuddering as they passed over the reef. Its\ncourse could be traced for a mile or more on each side of them. The\nopening through which they sailed was the only clear space they could\nsee in the whole length of it, and that was barely wide enough to admit\nof the passage of their little vessel. The Sea Gull could never have got\nthrough it; and how they had ever passed it in their waterlogged craft,\ndriven by a furious gale, was something they could not explain. The\nwaves foamed and roared around them, and being thrown back by the rocks,\nfollowed in the wake of the schooner as if enraged at being cheated of\ntheir prey. The boys trembled while they looked, and all breathed easier\nwhen the man in the fore-chains who was heaving the lead, called out \u201cNo\nbottom!\u201d The reef was passed in safety and they were fairly afoot once\nmore; but their vessel was crippled and leaky, and there was not one\namong the five hundred people who saw her sail so gaily out of the\nharbor of Bellville who would have recognized her now. She had no\ntopmasts, yards, or flying jibboom, and could only spread four sails\nwhere she had once spread nine, and, when the wind was light, ten, not\ncounting the studding-sails. All Uncle Dick asked of her was to take\nthem in safety to Hobart Town, where she could be put in trim for her\nlong voyage across the Indian Ocean.\n\nThe Club were three weeks in reaching their destination, and during that\ntime everything passed off smoothly. The weather was favorable, and that\nwas something on which Uncle Dick congratulated himself. Had the\nschooner encountered another cyclone, or even a gale, we should probably\nhave had something unpleasant to record, for she was in no condition to\nstand another conflict with the elements. No one on board, except the\nClub and the officers, knew where she was bound, for Uncle Dick thought\nit best that this matter should be kept secret. If the suspected men\nwere convicts, as he had every reason to believe they were, they might\nobject to going back to their taskmasters, and that was just where Uncle\nDick was resolved they should go, especially Waters, who had shown that\nhe was not a proper person to be intrusted with his liberty. The latter\nwas still confined in the brig, but he was allowed to come out twice\neach day, and take his exercise on deck under the watchful eye of the\nmaster-at-arms; and he it was who first told the crew where the schooner\nwas bound. He found it out one morning when he was brought out of the\nbrig to take a breath of fresh air. Land was then in plain sight; and\nafter Waters had run his eye along the shore, he started and muttered\nsomething under his breath that sounded like an oath.\n\n\u201cHit\u2019s Tasmania, mates,\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cAnd there,\u201d he added, pointing\nwith his manacled hands towards the church spire that could be dimly\nseen in the distance, \u201cis \u2019Obart Town. We\u2019re back \u2019ere after hall our\ntrouble.\u201d\n\nThe words reached the ears of his three companions for whom they were\nintended, and their action did not escape the notice of the officer of\nthe deck, who had his eyes on them all the time. Leaving their work at\nonce, they gazed eagerly in the direction of the city, then turned and\nlooked along the shore as if searching for some familiar object, and the\nexpression that settled on their faces was all the proof Mr. Parker\nneeded to confirm his suspicions.\n\n\u201cMaster-at-arms,\u201d said he, \u201ctake your prisoner below and lock him up.\nYou three men,\u201d he added, pointing to Waters\u2019s companions, \u201cgo into the\nforecastle until you are told to come on deck again. If you stay there\npeaceably, well and good. Rodgers, go down and keep an eye on them.\nBarton, take a musket and stand at the head of the ladder, and see that\nthey don\u2019t come up without orders.\u201d\n\nMr. Parker was simply obeying the instructions of his commander, which\nwere to the effect that the suspected men were to be watched night and\nday, and ordered below under arrest the instant the officer of the deck,\nwhoever he was, became satisfied that they really were escaped convicts.\nMr. Parker was satisfied now, and so the ruffians were put where they\nwould have no opportunity to escape.\n\nThe schooner rapidly approached the town, and at one o\u2019clock dropped\nanchor at the stern of a large English steamer, which she followed into\nthe harbor. The gig was called away at once, and Uncle Dick got in and\nwas pulled ashore. An hour elapsed, and at the end of that time a large\nyawl, which was slowly propelled by two men, was seen approaching the\nschooner. It came alongside, and a fashionably dressed, kid-gloved young\ngentleman about Frank\u2019s age, seized the man-ropes that were handed to\nhim and was assisted to the deck.\n\n\u201cAw! thanks,\u201d said he, as he brushed a speck of dust from his\ncoat-sleeve. \u201cWhere\u2019s the captain?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe captain is ashore, sir,\u201d answered Mr. Baldwin. \u201cI command in his\nabsence.\u201d\n\n\u201cAw! there\u2019s my card,\u201d continued the visitor, producing the article in\nquestion and handing it to the first mate.\n\n\u201cI am glad to meet you, Mr. Fowler,\u201d replied the officer, glancing at\nthe name on the card. \u201cCan I be of any service to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI ham consul\u2019s clark, and I\u2019ve come \u2019ere to see about those seamen you\nrescued from the wreck of the Hinglish ship Sea Gull. Muster them on\ndeck, and I\u2019ll take them hoff at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cProduce a written order from Captain Gaylord to that effect, and I\nshall be glad to do so,\u201d said Mr. Baldwin, who it was plain did not like\nthe commanding tone assumed by the young Englishman. \u201cI suppose you have\none?\u201d\n\n\u201cNaw, I \u2019ave not. I \u2019ave an horder from \u2019er Majesty\u2019s consul, whose\nclark I ham.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not obliged to obey her Majesty\u2019s consul,\u201d replied Mr. Baldwin. \u201cI\nam an American, and responsible to no one but my commander. Our own\nconsul could not take these men away in Captain Gaylord\u2019s absence,\nwithout first showing me a written order from him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you refuse to give them hup?\u201d\n\n\u201cWithout an order? Yes, sir.\u201d\n\nThe young Englishman fairly gasped while he listened to these words,\nwhich, had they been spoken by one of his own countrymen, he would no\ndoubt have regarded as highly treasonable. When he found his tongue\nagain he said he would see \u2019ow this thing stood, and whether or not \u2019er\nMajesty\u2019s hofficers could be thus set at defiance; and as he spoke he\nthrew one leg over the side as if he were about to climb down into his\nboat. Then he suddenly paused and gazed earnestly towards the nearest\nwharf\u2014or we ought rather to say \u201cquay,\u201d for that is what they are called\nin that part of the world. He saw a boat approaching, and he made that\nan excuse to come back; but the boys, who had been interested and amused\nlisteners to the conversation, shrewdly suspected that the real reason\nwhy he came back was because he knew that Mr. Baldwin was in the right.\nLike many persons who are clothed with a little brief authority, he felt\nhimself to be very important, and wanted to make everybody with whom he\ncame in contact bow to him.\n\n\u201cAw!\u201d said he, addressing himself to Frank, who had stepped to the side\nto hand him one of the man-ropes, \u201cthere\u2019s the police commissioner\u2019s\nboat coming, and I think I\u2019ll stop and \u2019ave a look at those four\nconvicts I \u2019ear you\u2019ve got on board. Hif they\u2019re the ones I think they\nhare hit\u2019s a wonder they didn\u2019t take your vessel from you. But it cawn\u2019t\nbe they\u2014it cawn\u2019t be.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know whom you have in your mind, of course,\u201d replied Frank, who\nwas highly amused by the patronizing manner in which the young\nEnglishman addressed him. \u201cOne of them showed a disposition to smash\nthings, but he is now in irons, while the others are in the forecastle\nunder guard. The quarrelsome one gave the name of Waters.\u201d\n\n\u201cWaters? Aw! it is he. It is weally wonderful how you managed to secure\nhim, for he is a wetired membaw of the Hinglish prize wing. Hit must\n\u2019ave taken \u2019alf your crew to do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary,\u201d said Frank, \u201che was very quickly and easily\nvanquished by that man you see standing there.\u201d\n\n\u201cAw! you surprise me. I must weally \u2019ave a look at the gentleman,\u201d said\nthe consul\u2019s clerk. \u201cHe must be simply prodigious. Hisn\u2019t he an Hinglish\ngentleman?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d said Frank, hardly able to control himself. \u201cHe\u2019s an\nAmerican, every inch of him, and probably the first representative of\nhis class that you ever saw.\u201d\n\nThe consul\u2019s clerk fumbled in his pocket for a few minutes, and\npresently drew out a gold eyeglass. He had some trouble in fixing it\nunder his right eyebrow, and when he got it placed to his satisfaction\nhe looked in the direction Frank pointed, and met the steady gaze of\nDick Lewis\u2019s honest gray eyes. The stalwart backwoodsman, in company\nwith his friend, Bob Kelly, was leaning against the rail, and, although\nthe two men probably did not dream of such a thing, they presented a\npicture that an artist would have been glad to reproduce on canvas.\n\n\u201cAw!\u201d exclaimed the young Englishman; \u201cwhat very extraordinary-looking\npersons. If I might be allowed the expression, I should say that they\nhad just come hout of the woods.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have hit the nail squarely on the head,\u201d said Frank. \u201cThey are\nprofessional trappers and Indian fighters.\u201d\n\nThe clerk started, and let his eyeglass fall in his excitement. He was\nso surprised that he forgot to put in his usual drawl, and substitute w\nfor r when he spoke again.\n\n\u201cTrappers!\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cIndian fighters! I have often read of such\nthings, and no doubt you will think me simple when I say that I never\nbelieved in their existence.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you always talk as naturally as that?\u201d thought Frank.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re sure you\u2019re not chaffing me now?\u201d continued the clerk.\n\n\u201cQuite sure. I don\u2019t do such things. I have known these men a long time,\nand have spent months on the prairie and in the mountains in their\ncompany. I know of two Indian fights in which they have been engaged\nsince I became acquainted with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wonder!\u201d exclaimed the clerk, whose astonishment and interest were so\ngreat that he could not remove his eyes from the two trappers. \u201cPray\ntell me about those fights.\u201d\n\nFrank thought of the historian, who, being invited to a dinner party,\nwas requested by a lady to relate the history of the world during the\nfive minutes that the host would probably be occupied in carving the\nturkey, and laughed to himself at the idea of taking less than half an\nhour to describe all the thrilling incidents that had happened during\nthe battle at Fort Stockton, as recounted to him by his friend, Adam\nBrent, who was present on that memorable occasion. \u201cIt is rather a long\nstory,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cWell, then, perhaps at some future time you will oblige me,\u201d replied\nthe clerk. \u201cWere you ever in a battle?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, several of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith the Indians?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. They once attacked a wagon-train to which I belonged, and tried to\nrun off our cattle and horses, but we didn\u2019t call that a battle.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere you ever a prisoner among them?\u201d\n\nFrank replied in the affirmative.\n\n\u201cWere you ever tied to the stake?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, but I\u2019ve seen the man who mastered Waters in that situation, and I\nsaw a tomahawk and a knife thrown within an inch of his head.\u201d\n\nThe young Englishman\u2019s surprise increased every moment, and Frank\nthought by the way he looked at him that he was not quite prepared to\nbelieve all he heard. But Frank did not care for that. He was not trying\nto make himself important; he was only answering the clerk\u2019s questions.\n\n\u201cAre you an officer of this vessel?\u201d asked the latter, glancing at\nFrank\u2019s suit of navy blue.\n\n\u201cI act as sailing master,\u201d was the modest reply.\n\n\u201cWhat trade are you in?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo trade at all. This is a private yacht, and we have got thus far on\nour voyage around the world. Two of those young gentlemen you see\nthere,\u201d he added, directing the clerk\u2019s attention toward the Club, who\nhad withdrawn to the quarter-deck, \u201care nephews of the owner and\ncaptain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am delighted to hear it,\u201d exclaimed the clerk, and it was evident\nthat the schooner and her company arose in his estimation at once. At\nany rate, he dropped his patronizing air, and began to act and talk as\nif he considered Frank his equal. He no doubt thought that those who\nwere able to travel around the world in their own vessel were deserving\nof respect, even though they were Americans. \u201cI wish I had time to make\ntheir acquaintance,\u201d he continued, \u201cbut here comes the commissioner\u2019s\nboat, and I see your captain is just putting out from the quay. I hope\nto meet you again.\u201d\n\nFrank simply bowed. He could not say that he hoped so too, for he did\nnot. He could see nothing to admire in a young man who seemed to think\nthat only those who were wealthy were deserving of respect. Frank would\nhave been still more disinclined to meet him again had he known the\ncircumstances under which one of their meetings was to take place. This\nwas by no means the end of his acquaintance with Mr. Fowler. It was only\nthe beginning of it.\n\nFrank now stepped to the side in readiness to hand the man-ropes to the\noccupants of the commissioner\u2019s boat, which just then came up. There\nwere four of them, and he was rather surprised at their appearance. Each\nwore a short blue blouse, confined at the waist by a black belt, a very\njuvenile-looking cap, and a broad, white shirt collar, which was turned\ndown over their coats, making them look like so many overgrown boys. But\nthe batons they carried in their hands, and the shields they wore on\ntheir breasts, proclaimed them to be policemen. And very careful members\nof the community they were, too; for without them the law-abiding\ninhabitants of the city would have had anything but a pleasant time of\nit, surrounded as they were by thousands of the worst characters that\nGreat Britain could produce. They climbed to the deck one after the\nother, and the foremost informed Mr. Baldwin, who came forward to meet\nthem, that they had been sent to look at the suspected men, and to take\ncharge of them if they proved to be convicts. The mate accordingly gave\nthe necessary orders to the master-at-arms, and presently the four\nprisoners came up under guard.\n\n\u201cAw!\u201d exclaimed the clerk, who had by this time recovered from the\nsurprise into which he had been thrown by his conversation with Frank,\n\u201cthat one in irons is Waters, sure enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he seems to know you, too,\u201d said Frank, as the prisoner, after\nrunning his eye over the vessel, nodded to the clerk, who smiled and\nbowed in return.\n\n\u201cAw! yes; that is, I have often seen him working in the chain-gang\nashore; but I want you to understand that I have nothing in common with\nhim, nothing whatever.\u201d\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t suppose you had,\u201d answered Frank, astonished at the clerk\u2019s\nearnest tone and manner. \u201cWhat will your police do with him?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey\u2019ll put him back in the gang again, but Lawd! what\u2019s the use! He\u2019ll\nsoon escape; he always does. He\u2019s been off the island no less than four\ntimes. Once he was half way to Hingland before it was found hout who he\nwas.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t the police watch him closer?\u201d\n\nThe clerk shrugged his shoulders as much as to say that he didn\u2019t know,\nor didn\u2019t care to trouble himself about the matter, and turned to meet\nthe captain, who just then sprang on board. Arrangements were quickly\nmade for removing the strangers, as everybody called the men who had\nbeen rescued from the wreck of the Sea Gull. The sailors were given into\ncharge of the clerk, who ordered them into his boat and pushed off,\nafter telling Frank that he would hear from him again very soon, and the\nconvicts were turned over to the officers, who handcuffed them all, and\ntook them ashore. The boys were glad to see them go, and Uncle Dick\nprivately informed them that he considered himself fortunate in getting\nrid of Waters and his companions so easily. They were a desperate lot,\nif there was any faith to be put in the stories of their exploits which\nhe had heard while he was ashore.\n\n\u201cThat clerk told me that Waters belongs in the chain-gang,\u201d said Frank.\n\u201cHow did he manage to escape?\u201d\n\n\u201cAsk the police, and if you give them enough, perhaps they will tell\nyou,\u201d returned Uncle Dick.\n\n\u201cThe police!\u201d repeated Frank.\n\n\u201cYes. A five-pound note will accomplish wonders sometimes. I know that\nless than that once bought off the policeman\u2014or \u2018man-hunter\u2019 as we used\nto call him\u2014who arrested me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Uncle Dick!\u201d exclaimed Walter.\n\nThe old sailor laughed long and loudly. \u201cIt is a fact,\u201d said he. \u201cI was\nat work one morning at the mouth of my shaft in the Bendigo mines, and\nthis man-hunter stepped up and asked me if I had a license. I told him I\nhad, but it was in the pocket of my vest, and that was at the bottom of\nthe mine. Do you suppose he would let me go down after it? No, sir. He\narrested me at once, and was marching me off, when I offered him an\nounce of gold, worth about seventeen dollars and a half, if he would go\nback and let me show him my license. He took the gold, but didn\u2019t go\nback with me, and neither did he trouble me afterward. If he had taken\nme before the commissioner I should have been lucky if I had got off\nwith a fine of five pounds. Stand by, Mr. Baldwin. Here comes the tug,\nand we are going into the docks now. After that, boys, we\u2019ll take a run\nout into the country. I have an acquaintance a few miles away, who is\ngetting rich, raising sheep. The last time I saw him he was glad to\nbreak stones on the road in Melbourne for a pound a day. That would be\nconsidered a good deal of money now, but it didn\u2019t go far during the\ntime of the gold excitement. Everything was so dear that the man who\nearned less than that stood a good chance of starving.\u201d\n\nWe pass over the events of the next few days, as they have nothing to do\nwith our story. The schooner having been hauled into the docks, the Club\nset out in company with the trappers to explore the town, and during the\nday chanced to fall in with the consul\u2019s clerk, who, with two other\nyoung Englishmen of the same stamp as himself, was on his way to visit\nthe schooner. He presented his card, and introduced Frank to his\ncompanions, and he and they were in turn introduced to the Club and to\nthe trappers. This being arranged to the satisfaction of both parties,\nthey adjourned to a restaurant\u2014an Englishman always wants something to\neat\u2014and Frank thought he could have enjoyed the splendid dinner that was\nserved up, had it not been for the presence of the liquors that were\nintroduced. The Englishmen drank freely, and pressed their guests to\nfollow their example; but the Club were proof against temptation, and\nastonished their hosts by telling them that they did not know wine from\nbrandy, and that they had never smoked a cigar. They remained in their\nroom at the restaurant until it began to grow dark, for the Englishmen\nhad many questions to ask, and besides they were determined to force a\nstory out of Dick Lewis; but the trapper was shy in the presence of\nstrangers, and could not be induced to open his mouth. Being\ndisappointed in this, the clerk and his companions, with a laudable\ndesire to increase their store of knowledge, set themselves at work to\nlearn everything that was to be learned regarding the United States and\ntheir inhabitants; but whether or not they gained any really useful\ninformation is a question. The following conversation, which took place\nthat night in the cabin of the Stranger, would seem to indicate that\nthey did not. Walter was relating to Uncle Dick the various amusing\nincidents that had happened at the restaurant, occasioned by the\nEnglishmen\u2019s astounding ignorance of everything that related to America\nand its people, when Frank suddenly inquired:\n\n\u201cArchie, what in the world possessed you to tell that clerk that the\nRocky Mountains were a hundred miles from New York, and that grizzly\nbears and panthers had been known to come into Broadway, and carry off\nmen from behind the counters of their stores?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, did he believe it?\u201d asked Archie, in reply. \u201cCould he fool me that\nway about his own country? Just before that Eugene had been telling him\nthat wild Indians had often been seen in the streets of New York, and I\nhad to back him up. Wild Indians, and bears, and panthers go together,\ndon\u2019t they? I told him that he could find bears in Wall Street any day,\nand so he can; and if they haven\u2019t been known to take men, not only from\nbehind the counters of their stores, but right out of house and home,\nthen I have read the history of speculations in Wall Street to little\npurpose.\u201d\n\nUncle Dick laughed until the cabin rang again.\n\n\u201cBut the idea of the Rocky Mountains being only a hundred miles from New\nYork,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t tell him so,\u201d answered Archie, quickly. \u201cI said that they were\nat least that distance away; and so they are. I had to make my\nstatements correspond with Eugene\u2019s, didn\u2019t I? Just before that he had\nbeen telling Fowler that the whole of America was about as large as\nIreland\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cHold on,\u201d interrupted Eugene. \u201cDidn\u2019t I tell him that it was fully as\nlarge as Ireland?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a fact,\u201d said Archie, accepting the correction; \u201cso you did.\nWell, now, the United States and the British possessions in America\ncover about six million square miles, and of these the Rocky Mountains\ncover nine hundred and eighty thousand, or nearly one-sixth of the\nsurface of the whole country. When I came to build my mountains, I had\nto build them in proportion to the size of the country they were\nsupposed to stand in, didn\u2019t I?\u201d\n\nUncle Dick roared again.\n\n\u201cWhen Fowler began to question me on distances I had to be careful what\nI said,\u201d continued Archie. \u201cWhen he asked me how big the Rocky Mountains\nwere, I told him that they covered at least five thousand square miles,\nand you ought to have seen him open his eyes. He said he had no idea\nthat there was room enough in America for any such mountains. Now, since\nIreland contains thirty-three thousand square miles, I think my\nproportion was a pretty good one. If you can come any closer to it in\nround numbers, I\u2019d like to see you do it.\u201d\n\nFrank could not combat such arguments as these, so he went to his room\nand tumbled into bed.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n MORE ABOUT THE CLERK.\n\n\nThe week following the one on which the Stranger was hauled into the\ndry-docks, found the Club settled on a sheep-farm a few miles in the\ninterior, the guests of Uncle Dick\u2019s friend and fellow-miner, Mr.\nWilbur. If we should say that they enjoyed their liberty, their target\nshots, and horseback rides, we should be putting it very mildly. The\nchange from their cramped quarters on board the schooner to the freedom\nof the country was a most agreeable one, and they made the most of it.\nThey were almost constantly on the move, and there was not a station (in\nCalifornia it would have been called a ranche) for miles around that\nthey did not visit, or a piece of woods that they did not explore.\n\nIt was while they remained here that the novel trial of speed which\nArchie had proposed came off. It was no novelty to Uncle Dick and Mr.\nWilbur, who declared that the trapper was certain to prove the winner,\nbut it was a new thing to the old members of the Club, who could not\nbring themselves to believe that a man could beat a horse in a fair\nrace, until they had seen it with their own eyes. The arrangements were\nmade one rainy day, when there was nothing else the Club could do except\nto sit in the house, and sing songs, and tell stories, and the next\nmorning was set apart for the trial.\n\nEugene being allowed his choice of all the horses on the station,\nselected Mr. Wilbur\u2019s own favorite riding nag, which had the reputation\nof being able to run a quarter of a mile in less time than any other\nhorse on the island. After the arrangements had all been made, Archie\nnoticed, with some uneasiness, that Mr. Wilbur and Eugene held frequent\nand earnest consultations, which they brought to a close whenever he\ncame within earshot of them; and when the storm cleared away, just\nbefore night, he saw the horse, against which the trapper was to run,\nbrought out and put through his paces. Mr. Wilbur had explained to\nEugene that the place where the horse would lose the race would be at\nthe turning-point. He would, beyond a doubt, run the hundred yards\nbefore the trapper could; but in stopping and turning he would lose\nground, and Dick would be half way home before he could get under way\nagain. Eugene thought he could remedy that by giving his horse a little\npractice beforehand, and the result of his experiment encouraged him\ngreatly. The intelligent animal seemed to enter into the spirit of the\nmatter with as much eagerness as his rider did, and after he had passed\nover the course a few times, he would stop on reaching the\nturning-point, wheel like a flash, and set out on the homestretch at the\ntop of his speed; and he would do it, too, without a word from Eugene.\n\nArchie, from his post on the veranda, witnessed the whole proceeding,\nand when it was concluded and the horse was led back to the stable, he\nhurried off to find the trapper. To his surprise Dick did not seem to be\nat all uneasy over what he had to tell him. \u201cNever mind, leetle \u2019un,\u201d\nsaid the trapper. \u201cSposen I should tell you that I had beat a hoss that\nhad been practiced that way for a hul week, what would you say?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should say that you had done it,\u201d replied Archie.\n\n\u201cWal, I have, and more\u2019n onct, too.\u201d\n\nThe next morning, at five o\u2019clock, the Club, and Mr. Wilbur and all his\nherdsmen, were on the ground, and the arrangements for the race had all\nbeen completed. If Eugene had been about to ride for his life, he could\nnot have made greater preparations. He had discarded his hat and boots,\ntied a handkerchief around his head to keep the hair out of his eyes,\nand rode in his shirt-sleeves, and without a saddle. Dick simply pulled\noff his hunting shirt, and tightened his belt.\n\n\u201cI want a flying start,\u201d said Eugene.\n\n\u201cWell, I am sorry to say so, but you can\u2019t have it,\u201d answered Archie,\nwho acted as master of ceremonies.\n\n\u201cWhy, a man can get under way twice while a horse is getting started\nonce,\u201d said Eugene.\n\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t my fault, or the man\u2019s either,\u201d returned Archie. \u201cIt\u2019s the\nhorse\u2019s.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive him the flyin\u2019 start,\u201d said Dick Lewis.\n\nUncle Dick and Mr. Wilbur were surprised to hear this, and the latter\ntold his companion in a whisper that the trapper must have the greatest\nconfidence in his speed, or he would not be willing to give the horse so\nmuch of a chance.\n\nEugene rode back twenty yards from the starting-point, the trapper took\nhis stand by his side, and when both were ready they moved off together,\nArchie giving the signal to \u201cgo\u201d as they passed the starting-point.\nBefore the word had fairly left his lips the trapper was flying down the\ncourse like an arrow from a bow. He succeeded in getting a fine start,\nbut, after all, it was not so great as everybody thought it would be.\nEugene was on the alert, and so was his horse. The animal made one or\ntwo slow bounds after he passed the starting-point, and then he settled\ndown to his work, and went at the top of his speed, Eugene lying close\nalong his neck, and digging his heels into his side at every jump. The\nhorse came up with and passed the trapper just before the latter reached\nthe end of the course, and remembering his training of the day before,\nmade an effort to stop and wheel quickly; but so great was his speed\nthat he went some distance farther on, and when he did face about,\nEugene saw that it was too late to win the race. The fleet-footed\ntrapper was half-way home; and although the horse quickly responded to\nhis rider\u2019s encouraging yells, Dick won the race very easily. The Club\nwere satisfied now. One thing was certain, and that was, they had never\ndreamed that a human being was capable of such speed as the trapper had\nexhibited that morning.\n\n\u201cIf he were not a good runner he wouldn\u2019t be here now,\u201d said Archie, in\nreply to their exclamations of wonder. \u201cHis lightness of foot has saved\nhis scalp, I suppose, a score of times. He says he never was beaten.\u201d\n\nThe boys did not doubt it at all. They were now prepared to accept\nwithout question anything that Frank and Archie might tell them\nconcerning the trapper.\n\nIn a very few days the Club had seen everything of interest there was to\nbe seen about the station, and Uncle Dick\u2019s proposition to take a run\nover to Australia was hailed with delight. They went by steamer from\nHobart Town to Melbourne, and during the next three weeks had ample\nopportunity to gain some idea of what the settlers meant when they\ntalked of life in the bush. They first explored every nook and corner of\nthe city of Melbourne, spent a few days in the mines where Uncle Dick\nhad worked during the gold excitement, and finally camped on another\nsheep station, where they made their headquarters as long as they\nremained in Australia. Archie did not succeed in shooting a kangaroo,\nbut his horse was stolen from him by the bushrangers, and the Club spent\na week in trying to recover it. The animal was never seen again,\nhowever, and it took all Archie\u2019s pocket-money, and a good share of\nFrank\u2019s, to make the loss good when they reached Melbourne; for that was\nthe place where the horses had been hired.\n\nAt length a letter from Uncle Dick\u2019s agent in Hobart Town brought the\ninformation that the repairs on the schooner were rapidly approaching\ncompletion, and that she would be ready to sail in a few days. As he had\npromised to spend one more week with his friend, Mr. Wilbur, before he\nstarted for Natal, the captain ordered an immediate return to Tasmania,\nand in due time the Club found themselves once more under the\nsheep-herder\u2019s hospitable roof. We must not forget to say, however, that\nthey stopped two days in Hobart Town, for it was while they were there\nthat an incident happened which had something to do with what afterward\nbefell two of the members of the Club.\n\nOn the morning after their arrival, Uncle Dick and some of the boys went\ndown to the docks to see how the schooner was getting on, and the rest\nsauntered off somewhere, leaving Frank in the reading-room of the hotel,\ndeeply interested in a newspaper. Shortly after the others had gone, he\nwas interrupted in his reading by a slap on the shoulder, and upon\nlooking up he saw the consul\u2019s clerk standing beside him.\n\n\u201cAw! I\u2019m overjoyed to see you again,\u201d exclaimed Fowler, extending the\nforefinger of his right hand. (The reader will understand that we shall\nhereafter write down this young gentleman\u2019s words as he ought to have\nspoken them, not as he did speak them.) \u201cI have been out to Wilbur\u2019s\ntwice\u2014he is a friend of mine, you know\u2014and I was sorry not to meet you\nthere. I saw you when you landed last night, but was so busy that I\ncould not get a chance to speak to you. Had a good time in Australia?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I enjoyed myself,\u201d replied Frank. \u201cEverything was new and\nstrange.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been aboard your vessel nearly every day since you have been\ngone, and the foreman tells me that the repairs on her are nearly\ncompleted,\u201d added Fowler. \u201cWhen do you sail?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot under ten days, and it may possibly be two weeks,\u201d answered Frank.\n\n\u201cWhat are your arrangements, anyhow? I ask because I want to have a\nchance to visit with you a little before you go.\u201d\n\nFrank did not care to visit with Mr. Fowler, but he could not well\nrefuse to answer his question. \u201cThe arrangements, as far as they are\nmade, are these,\u201d he replied. \u201cAs soon as the schooner is ready for sea\nshe is to leave the harbor, go around into the river, and come to anchor\nnear Mr. Wilbur\u2019s house.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d exclaimed the clerk, settling back in his chair, and slapping\nhis knees. \u201cThat will just suit us.\u201d\n\nFrank, somewhat surprised at his enthusiasm, looked at him a moment, and\ninquired: \u201cWhom do you mean by \u2018us?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, a party of our fellows, who may be up there to see you before you\nleave. Go on. What next?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe captain intends to take Mr. Wilbur and his family out for a short\nexcursion,\u201d replied Frank. \u201cWe shall be gone three or four days; and if\nthe weather is fair, we may not be back for a week. When we return we\nshall be ready to start for Natal.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d exclaimed the clerk. \u201cThings couldn\u2019t be arranged to suit\nme better. I suppose you will have all your stores and everything else\naboard before you leave the harbor?\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose so.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the way, who is paymaster of your craft?\u201d\n\n\u201cWalter Gaylord keeps the books and the key of the safe,\u201d answered\nFrank.\n\n\u201cAnd you act as sailing master, I think you told me?\u201d\n\nFrank replied that he did.\n\n\u201cYou must understand seamanship and navigation, then,\u201d continued Fowler.\n\n\u201cI am no seaman, but I know something about navigation.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have commanded a vessel, haven\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, two of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWere they large ones?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne of them was a whaler, and the other was a gunboat.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I was told. Could you take a vessel from here to San Francisco?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think I could,\u201d said Frank, with a smile. \u201cI brought the Stranger\nfrom Bellville around the Horn to \u2019Frisco.\u201d\n\nFowler nodded his head, and sat looking at the floor for some minutes in\nsilence. \u201cSpeaking of your paymaster,\u201d said he, suddenly\u2014\u201cthe reason I\nasked about him, was because I heard some of your crew wishing that he\nwould make haste and come back. They have spent all their money, and\nwant a new supply. I suppose Walter is able to pay them all their dues?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cI suppose, too, that the contents of that little safe would make you\nand me rich.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, I am sure. The captain keeps money enough with him to pay\nall expenses, but whether or not he has any more on hand, I don\u2019t know.\nI have never inquired into the matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cI was told that the safe was full of gold,\u201d said Fowler. \u201cI should\nthink that Walter would be afraid to carry the key about with him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know that he does,\u201d returned Frank. \u201cBut even if he did, why\nshould he be afraid?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, because there are plenty of men here who would knock him over for\none-tenth of the sum he is known to control. Money is everything in this\nworld, isn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\n\u201cSome people seem to think so,\u201d replied Frank.\n\n\u201cWell, good-by,\u201d said the clerk, jumping up. \u201cI may not be able to see\nyou again before you go out to Wilbur\u2019s, but I shall surely see you\nwhile you are there.\u201d\n\nFowler went away, and Frank was glad to see him go. He did not resume\nhis reading immediately, but sat for a long time looking down at the\nfloor in a brown study. He recalled every word that had passed between\nhimself and the consul\u2019s clerk, and somehow he could not rid himself of\nthe impression that the latter had some reasons for questioning him so\nclosely, other than those he had given. Frank remembered what Barton had\ntold him about the inquiries Waters had made in regard to the contents\nof Uncle Dick\u2019s strong box, and he could not help connecting that\ncircumstance with the interview he had just had with the consul\u2019s clerk.\nBut when he had done so he laughed at himself.\n\n\u201cWhat nonsense,\u201d he said mentally. \u201cMy short acquaintance with Waters\nand his friends has made me suspicious. Since his attempt to take\npossession of our vessel, I think that every one who makes inquiries\nabout her has some designs upon her. I\u2019ll try to be a little more\nreasonable.\u201d\n\nWith this, Frank resumed his reading, and dismissed all thoughts of the\nconsul\u2019s clerk and the conversation he had had with him.\n\nOn the morning of the next day but one Mr. Wilbur and his big wagon\narrived and took Uncle Dick, the Club, and the trappers out to his\nstation. Two days after that the schooner came up the river, and dropped\nanchor at a short distance from the house. The boys were delighted to\nsee her looking like her old self once more, and as soon as the first\nboat came off, they went on board in a body to take a good look at her.\nUncle Dick\u2019s instructions to the workmen had been faithfully obeyed, and\nthe Club could hardly believe that she was the same vessel that had been\ndriven, waterlogged and helpless, upon the shores of that inhospitable\nisland away off in the Pacific. She looked just as she did on the day\nshe came from the hands of the men who built her.\n\nShortly after she came to anchor there liberty was granted to the blue\njackets, and then there was fun indeed around Mr. Wilbur\u2019s house. A\nsailor always wants to ride when he comes ashore, and there were horses\nenough on the station to mount every one of them. Among the number were\nsome wild young steeds which had never felt the weight of a saddle, and\nthese were the ones that the blue jackets wanted to ride. Mr. Wilbur\ncheerfully gave his consent, and the ludicrous attempts at\nhorse-breaking that followed were beyond our power to describe. The\nowner of the horses and his guests were kept in roars of laughter for\nhours at a time.\n\nOn the second day, to Frank\u2019s great disgust, the consul\u2019s clerk made his\nappearance. He was cordially greeted by Mr. Wilbur, who, after shaking\nhim by the hand, turned to present him to the members of the Club.\n\u201cThere\u2019s no need to do that,\u201d said Fowler. \u201cI know them all, and this\ngentleman,\u201d he added, extending his forefinger to Frank, \u201cI think I can\nclaim as an old acquaintance.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen it is all right, and I am glad you have come,\u201d said Mr. Wilbur. \u201cI\nwill leave them in your charge to-day, while the captain and I ride into\nthe country to see an old friend of ours who used to be in the mines\nwith us. You are at home here, Gus, and you will understand that my\nhouse and everything in it, are at your service and theirs. If those\nsailors come on shore and ask for horses, give them as many as they\nwant. It will probably be dark long before the captain and I return.\u201d\n\nThe Club were not at all pleased with this arrangement, but they could\nnot oppose it. They did not like Fowler, and wanted to see as little of\nhim as possible. There was only one thing they could do, and that was to\nget out of sight and hearing of him. This they did as soon as Uncle Dick\nand Mr. Wilbur rode away, all except Frank, to whom the consul\u2019s clerk\nstuck like a leech. Frank could not shake him off without being rude,\nand becoming utterly weary of his company at last, he excused himself,\nwent on board the schooner, and lay down in his bunk. He did not intend\nto go to sleep, but the book he happened to pick up as he passed through\nthe cabin proved to be rather dry reading, and before he knew it, he was\nin the land of dreams.\n\nWhen he awoke it was with a start, and a presentiment that there was\nsomething wrong. As soon as his eyes were open, he saw by the flood of\nlight that streamed in through the open transom over his door, that the\nlamps in the cabin were burning. Hardly able to believe that he had\nslept so long, Frank jumped from his bunk, and looked out at the bull\u2019s\neye. He could see nothing. Even the trees on the bank were concealed by\nthe darkness. Just then the vessel gave a lurch, and laid over in the\nwater as if she were heeling to the pressure of her canvas.\n\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d thought Frank. \u201cShe can\u2019t be under way! She\ncertainly is,\u201d he added, a moment later, as the schooner began to rise\nand fall slowly and regularly as if she were passing over the waves.\n\u201cWhere are we going, I wonder?\u201d\n\nFrank turned and laid his hand upon the knob, but the door refused to\nopen for him. He stooped down and looked at the lock, and saw that the\nbolt was thrown into the catch. He was fastened in. \u201cArchie,\u201d he thought\n(if any trick was played upon him he always laid the blame upon his\ncousin\u2019s shoulders), \u201cif I had you here for a minute, I believe I should\nbe tempted to shake you.\u201d\n\nAs Archie was not there, Frank shook the door instead, and listened to\nhear the footsteps of some one coming to release him; but there was no\nstir in the cabin to indicate that there was anybody there. Beyond a\ndoubt the boys were sitting around the table almost bursting with\nlaughter. Hardly able to refrain from laughing himself, Frank placed one\nfoot on his bunk, laid hold of the lower part of the transom with his\nhands, and drew himself up until he could look over into the cabin. Yes,\nthere was Archie, sitting in Uncle Dick\u2019s easy chair, with his hands in\nhis pockets, and looking up at his cousin in the most unconcerned manner\npossible. Frank was about to ask what he meant by locking him in after\nthat fashion, when his eye chanced to light on another occupant of the\ncabin\u2014a man who was seated on the other side of the table, opposite\nArchie. He was a low-browed, villainous-looking fellow, and in his high\ntop-boots, red shirt, and slouch hat, reminded Frank of the descriptions\nhe had read of robbers, smugglers, and such worthy characters. He sat\nwith his elbow resting on the table, one hand supporting his chin, and\nthe other grasping a huge revolver, which lay on the table in front of\nhim.\n\n\u201cHow are you?\u201d said Archie, hooking his thumbs in the armholes of his\nvest, and nodding to his cousin.\n\n\u201cWhat does this mean?\u201d demanded Frank. \u201cWho locked me in here, and why\nis the schooner underway? Where\u2019s Uncle Dick?\u201d\n\nArchie took one thumb out of the armhole of his vest long enough to wave\nhis hand toward the man on the opposite side of the table, and then put\nit back again.\n\n\u201cYou will know all about it in good time,\u201d said the man, cheerfully;\n\u201cand until we want you, you had better stay in there and behave\nyourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have taken the schooner, have you?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the way it looks to us out here. How does it look to you in\nthere?\u201d\n\nWhile Frank was wondering how he should answer this question, the door\nopened, and Waters, the convict, and Fowler, the consul\u2019s clerk, came\ninto the cabin.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n ON THE QUARTER-DECK AGAIN.\n\n\nUp to this time Frank had been all in the dark, and utterly at a loss to\nfind any explanation for the situation of affairs; but at the sight of\nthese two worthies a sudden light broke in upon him.\n\n\u201cEverything is clear to me now,\u201d thought he. \u201cI know why Fowler had so\nmany questions to ask concerning the contents of Uncle Dick\u2019s strong\nbox, and why he was so particular to inquire into my abilities as a\nnavigator. He is the one we have to thank for this trouble. He is hale\nfellow well met with these convicts, has assisted them to escape, and\nexpects to get a large share of the money in the safe. Our voyage around\nthe world ends right here, and I am in a lovely scrape besides. These\nfellows expect me to take them to San Francisco. After I get there what\nshall I do with the schooner? What will become of Uncle Dick and the\nrest in the meantime?\u201d\n\nWhile Frank was turning these knotty questions over in his mind, Fowler\nand his companion came into the cabin, and closed the door behind them.\n\u201cWell, Waters, you are off for America once more,\u201d said the consul\u2019s\nclerk, \u201cand this time I think you are all right. I can\u2019t see what\ndrawbacks you are going to have. There was no war vessel in the harbor\nwhen we left.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there was one at Melbourne,\u201d replied Waters, \u201cand it\u2019ll not take\nlong for the commissioners to set her on our track. We must depend on\nour captain to keep us clear of her. I\u2019m sorry you are here, Archie.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo am I,\u201d said the latter. \u201cYour man must be a regular blockhead to\ntake me for Walter Gaylord. He looks about as much like me as I look\nlike you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that\u2019s the way you came here, is it?\u201d said Frank to himself. \u201cThese\nfellows wanted to catch Walter because he carries the key of the safe,\nbut made a blunder and captured you in his place. This makes twice that\nWalter has escaped trouble in that way.\u201d\n\n\u201cMistakes will happen,\u201d said Waters. \u201cI told Bob here to collar a fellow\ndressed in black, and wearing a Panama hat; and as you answered that\ndescription exactly, he took you in. No matter; we can get along without\nthe key. Some of these days, when we feel in the humor, we\u2019ll set Bob at\nwork on the safe with a hammer and cold chisel. He knows how to do such\nthings, and that\u2019s why he\u2019s here in Tasmania; eh, Bob?\u201d\n\nThe man with the revolver grinned his appreciation of the compliment,\nand Archie said:\n\n\u201cHow much do you expect to find when you get into the safe?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, enough to make us all rich men in America.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how much will you get, Fowler, for your share in this business?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing at all,\u201d said Waters, before the consul\u2019s clerk had time to\nspeak. \u201cHe isn\u2019t here because he wants to be. We made him come.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat use will he be to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, we can use him easy enough. Seeing that the paymaster ain\u2019t here,\nhe\u2019ll have to act in his place, and get the bills of credit cashed; that\nis, if we find any.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s too attenuated; it\u2019s altogether too thin,\u201d declared Archie. \u201cHe\nis the ringleader in this business, and I know it. In regard to that\nstrong box, you\u2019re going to be disappointed when you see what\u2019s in it.\nYou\u2019ll be as badly disappointed as the two fellows were whom I met in\nthe Rocky Mountains a few months ago. They captured an emigrant family,\nand robbed their wagons, expecting to find a million dollars in them;\nbut when they came to break open the box, which they supposed contained\nthe treasure, they found in it nothing but a little brass model of a\nmachine with which the emigrant intended to run his quartz mill. The\nmillion dollars were yet to be made. There\u2019s money in the safe, no\ndoubt; but not enough to pay you for the risk you are running, or to\nmake you rich in America or anywhere else. The most of it is in bills of\ncredit, and they will be of about as much use to you as so much paper.\nNo one but Walter can get them cashed.\u201d\n\nIt made Frank very uneasy to hear his cousin talk to the ruffian in this\nway, for he fully expected that Waters would become angry, and do him\nsome injury; but the giant took it all in good part, and laughed\nheartily at the \u201clittle man\u2019s\u201d impudence. Fowler scowled and looked as\nblack as a thundercloud, but Archie did not seem to notice it.\n\n\u201cI wonder if our captain has woke up yet?\u201d said Waters, glancing toward\nthe door of Frank\u2019s stateroom.\n\n\u201cIt looks that way in here; how does it look to you out there?\u201d said\nFrank, repeating the words which the man with the revolver had used in\nreply to one of his questions. \u201cWhat\u2019s the use of keeping me in here?\nHadn\u2019t you better open the door, and let me out?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, Bob\u2019ll let you out,\u201d said Waters.\n\nThe man at the table put his revolver into one pocket, drew a key from\nanother, and unlocked the door. Frank stepped out into the cabin, and\nwas greeted with\u2014\n\n\u201cWell, captain, you didn\u2019t think to see us again so soon, did you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t. I was in hopes I had seen the last of you,\u201d was the\nhonest reply.\n\n\u201cOh, I am not such a bad fellow as you may think,\u201d said Waters, with a\nlaugh. \u201cI\u2019m as peaceable as a lamb when I ain\u2019t riled; and you and your\nmate here will fare well enough so long as you do as you are told, and\ndon\u2019t try any tricks on us. That\u2019s something we won\u2019t stand from nobody.\nWe\u2019re working for our liberty, and we\u2019re bound to have it. We\u2019ve got the\nschooner now, and we brought you aboard because you are a sailor, and we\nwant you to take us to America.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know what your plans are,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cWill you help us carry them out?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see how I can avoid it,\u201d replied Frank.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t either,\u201d said Waters. \u201cWe\u2019re the gentlest fellows in the world\nwhen you stroke us easy; but when you go against us, we\u2019re a bad lot to\nhave about. We\u2019ll make you captain of the vessel, and our little man\nhere,\u201d he added, pointing to Archie, \u201cwe\u2019ll put in for mate. He mustn\u2019t\nlive off our grub for nothing, you know, and we can\u2019t use him in any\nother way. Will he do?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, he\u2019ll do,\u201d said Frank. \u201cBut now I want you to understand one thing\nbefore we go any further: I don\u2019t claim to be a seaman, and if we are\nblown out of our course or crippled in any way, you mustn\u2019t blame me for\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind that,\u201d said Waters, quickly. \u201cI know all about you. I know\nthat you were master of a whaler, and that you commanded a Yankee\ngunboat during the war; so there must be something of the sailor about\nyou. If you will do as well as you can, that\u2019s all I ask, and me and you\nwon\u2019t have no words. Nobody shan\u2019t bother you. You shall do just as you\nplease. The rest of the men can sleep in the forecastle, and us five\nfellows that\u2019s here now will mess in the cabin, and live like\ngentlemen.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow much of a crew have I?\u201d asked Frank.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s just an even dozen of us on board. There will be ten to do the\nwork.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will be surprised to learn one thing, Frank,\u201d said Archie. \u201cThere\nare four of our own men aboard, and three of them came of their own free\nwill, too. More than that, they helped Fowler and Waters carry out their\nplan of seizing the vessel.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho are they?\u201d exclaimed Frank.\n\nArchie called over the names of the men, and Frank, astonished beyond\nmeasure to learn that any of the Stranger\u2019s crew could be so disloyal,\ndropped into the nearest chair without speaking. \u201cI suppose you offered\nthem a share of the money you expect to find in the safe, didn\u2019t you?\u201d\nsaid he, at length, addressing himself to Fowler.\n\n\u201cAll\u2019s fair in war,\u201d replied the consul\u2019s clerk.\n\n\u201cThe doctor, who is one of the four, is not in the plot,\u201d continued\nArchie. \u201cHe was aboard when these men surprised and captured the vessel,\nand Waters wouldn\u2019t let him go ashore.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course not,\u201d said the convict. \u201cWe ain\u2019t going to starve. There\u2019s\nplenty of good grub on board, and we need a cook to serve it up in\nshape. Mind you now, captain, no fooling with these men. We won\u2019t stand\nthat.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou need not borrow any trouble on that score,\u201d answered Frank,\nhastily. \u201cI shall not speak to them if I can avoid it. I want nothing to\ndo with such people.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe couldn\u2019t help it,\u201d said Waters. \u201cWe couldn\u2019t undertake so long a\nvoyage with a crew of landsmen, for we needed somebody to steer the\nvessel and go aloft. These men wanted money, and were ready to join with\nus, so we took them. If you\u2019re satisfied with everything, captain, you\nmight as well go on deck and take charge.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I am not satisfied,\u201d answered Frank, \u201cbut I don\u2019t see that\nanything better can be done under the circumstances. What shall I do if\nmy crew refuse to obey my orders?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, they\u2019ll obey your orders. Just show me the man that don\u2019t start\nwhen he\u2019s spoke to, and I\u2019ll show you somebody who will hurt himself\nagainst these bones,\u201d said Waters, doubling up his huge fist and\nflourishing it above his head. \u201cI ain\u2019t a sailor, but I\u2019m a bully\noverseer, and I\u2019ll keep the men straight, I bet you. Me and Bob, one of\nus, will be on deck all the time, to see that things go on smooth and\neasy, like they had oughter do. We are working for liberty, mind you,\nand we can\u2019t have no foolishness from nobody. Everything depends on you,\ncaptain, and it may comfort you to know that we\u2019ll have our eyes on you\nnight and day. You can\u2019t make a move that we won\u2019t see.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad you told me,\u201d said Frank. \u201cI always like to know what I have\nto expect. Let\u2019s go on deck and set the watch, Archie.\u201d\n\nThe captain and his mate ascended the ladder closely followed by Waters.\nAs Frank stepped upon the deck he looked about him with some curiosity.\nHe wanted to see the men who were so lost to all sense of honor, that\nthey could be induced to betray their trust for money. He glanced toward\nthe wheel, and saw that it was in the hands of one who, next to Freas\nand Barton, Uncle Dick had always regarded as his most faithful and\ntrusty hand. This proved to Frank\u2019s satisfaction the truth of the old\nadage, that you must summer and winter a man before you know him; in\nother words, you must see him in all manners of situations, and in all\nsorts of temptations, before you can say that you are really acquainted\nwith him. It proved, too, that Uncle Dick knew what he was talking about\nwhen he said that a sailor was never satisfied. Give him a brownstone\nfront to live in, and a hundred dollars a month to spend, and he will\ngrumble because he doesn\u2019t live in a palace and get two hundred. The man\nhung his head when Frank looked at him. He could not meet the young\ncaptain\u2019s gaze.\n\nHaving satisfied his curiosity on this point, Frank looked about him to\nnote the position of the schooner. He told himself that he must have\nslept very soundly indeed, for she had probably been under way an hour\nor more before he awoke. She was already a long distance from the shore,\nand the lighthouse at the entrance of the harbor was fast disappearing\nin the darkness. The only thing he could do that night was to make an\noffing, and the next day, as soon as he could take an observation, he\nwould work out a course and fill away for the States. He would do the\nbest he could, too. He would perform his duty as faithfully as though\nthe schooner was his own property, and he and the rest of her company\nwere bound on a pleasure excursion. This much he had made up his mind\nto, and he had done it simply because Archie was on board. Of course, if\nWaters and the rest should relax their vigilance after a few days, and\ngive him an opportunity to assume control of the vessel, he would\npromptly seize upon it, provided he was satisfied that his efforts would\nresult in complete success; but he would take no chance whatever. He had\nseen what the giant was when he became fairly aroused, and he would be\nvery careful not to incur his displeasure. Waters knew that Archie was\nhis cousin; he had been on board the Stranger long enough to learn a\ngood deal of the history of the occupants of the cabin, and if he became\nangry at Frank, Archie would be sure to suffer. The young captain wished\nmost heartily that his cousin was safe ashore with the rest of the Club.\nHe would have felt much more at his ease.\n\n\u201cMuster the crew, Archie, and divide them into two watches,\u201d said Frank.\n\u201cSend the port watch below, and then go below yourself and try to get a\nwink of sleep. Our force is so small that we\u2019ll have to stand watch and\nwatch; and as there are only three men able to manage the wheel, you and\nI will have to take a hand at it now and then. Do you think you can do\nit?\u201d\n\nArchie was quite sure he could. He was in new business now, but the way\nhe went about the execution of his cousin\u2019s command showed that he had\nkept his eyes and ears open. He ordered the foremast hands around like\nany old mate, and they obeyed as promptly and silently as though they\nhad all been trained sailors. The men belonging to the Stranger\u2019s crew\nhung their heads, and would not look at him, and Archie, on his part,\nacted as though he did not recognize them.\n\n\u201cCouldn\u2019t you make her go a little faster, captain?\u201d asked Waters, who\nkept close at Frank\u2019s side all the while. \u201cWe\u2019re working for liberty,\nyou know, and we don\u2019t want to waste no time.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll go faster presently,\u201d answered Frank. \u201cThe breeze is freshening,\nand she\u2019s got as much on now as she can stand. You must remember that we\nhave only three men to work the topsails, and I don\u2019t want to run any\nrisks. If you will let me manage matters my own way I will get you along\njust as fast as I can.\u201d\n\nWaters seemed satisfied with this assurance, and never again offered\nadvice. He kept Frank company during his watch, and although the latter\nat first would have been very glad to be rid of his presence, he finally\nbecame interested in his conversation, and after a little urging induced\nhim to tell how it was that he had been able to escape from the island\nfour different times, and who had first put it into his head to seize\nthe Stranger. The sequel proved that Uncle Dick had not been mistaken\nwhen he hinted that gold would control the police. Waters and all his\ncompanions who were then on board the Stranger had been tried and\ntransported for the same offence. One of them\u2014the convict who was\nkeeping guard over Archie when Frank awoke, and whom he had heard\naddressed as Bob\u2014was a ticket-of-leave man, who had made considerable\nmoney by hauling goods from Melbourne to the Bendigo mines. Instead of\ntaking care of himself he stood by his friends, and it was his gold that\nhad so often released Waters from the chain-gang, and started him on his\nway to England and America. It was his gold, too, that had made a friend\nof the consul\u2019s clerk. The latter knew all about the vessels that were\npreparing to sail, and when the convicts were ready to make an attempt\nat escape he would select a ship for them, and assist them in getting on\nboard. Three times Waters and his friends had gone aboard as gentlemen,\npaid their passage, and messed in the cabin; but twice they had been\novertaken and carried back by a war vessel, and once the captain of\ntheir ship found out, by some means, who they were; secured them all by\nstratagem and carried them back where they came from. Their last attempt\nwas made on the Sea Gull. Assisted by Fowler, they shipped on board of\nher before the mast, and would in all probability have succeeded in\nreaching their destination, had it not been for the gale which wrecked\ntheir vessel, and threw Waters and his three friends into the company of\nthe Stranger\u2019s crew.\n\nIt was Waters himself who first conceived the idea of seizing the\nschooner. He found opportunity to talk to Fowler about it, and the\nlatter was the one who made all the arrangements. Visiting the schooner\nevery day while she was in the dry-docks, he selected three of the\nsailors whom he thought he could induce to lend their assistance, and\nthe result proved that he had not been mistaken in his men. Every one of\nthem had seen the inside of the strong box, for Walter always called the\ncrew into the cabin when he paid them any money, and they declared that\nit was full to the brim with English gold pieces.\n\nUp to this time Fowler and Bob, the ticket-of-leave man, had no\nintention of joining the convicts in their attempt to leave the island.\nThe consul\u2019s clerk held an honorable position which he was in no hurry\nto throw up, while Bob was coining money at his vocation, and was\nsatisfied to remain where he was, for the present at least. His pardon\nwas only a conditional one, and if detected in an attempt at escape, he\nwould be deprived of his liberty and sent back to the penal settlement\nagain. He did not want to go there; but when he learned through Fowler\nthat there was an opportunity for him to make a fortune without work, he\ndetermined to assist the others in seizing the Stranger and take all the\nchances.\n\nBy questioning Frank, the consul\u2019s clerk found out just what Uncle Dick\nintended to do as soon as the repairs on his vessel were completed, and\nthis information was in due time conveyed to Waters. Preparations were\nmade accordingly; and on the night of the second day after the Stranger\nentered the river and came to anchor near Mr. Wilbur\u2019s house, Waters and\nhis companions quietly unlocked their irons and betook themselves to the\nbush. Fowler was already on the ground. He stuck to Frank until he drove\nhim on board the schooner and into his bunk, and then he set to work to\nclear the way for the convicts, so that they would have little or no\ntrouble in boarding the vessel. He mingled freely with the sailors who\nwere ashore, and by giving them a glowing description of a wonderful\nhorse-race that was to come off that afternoon at a station a few miles\ndistant, he induced them to apply to Mr. Baldwin for liberty until\ntwelve o\u2019clock that night, which was granted. Fowler exerted himself to\nsupply the blue jackets with all the horses they needed, and having seen\nthem fairly started on their wild-goose chase, he turned his attention\nto the first mate, whom he tried to induce to remain ashore all night.\nBut in this he failed. The officer knew that his place was on board his\nvessel, and on board his vessel he went as soon as it began to grow\ndark.\n\nAbout nine o\u2019clock that evening Waters and his companions arrived, and\nconcealed themselves among the bushes on the bank opposite the spot\nwhere the schooner lay at anchor. Fowler visited them shortly afterward\nto tell them how their plans were working. After listening to his report\nthe ticket-of-leave man stole off into the woods to carry out a\nparticular part of the programme that had been assigned to him, while\nthe other four entered the water and swam silently off to the vessel,\nwhich they boarded without opposition. The two mates, and the few\nforemast hands who remained on board, were quickly mustered on deck and\nheld passive by loaded revolvers, which two of the convicts kept pointed\nat their heads, while Waters and another proceeded to tie them hand and\nfoot. This being done, they were each gagged to prevent them from\nraising an alarm, and then one of the boats was lowered, and the\nhelpless men were taken ashore and laid in the bushes. All this work was\nperformed so silently that Frank was not awakened. The convicts saw him\nasleep in his bunk, and to make sure of finding him there when they\nwanted him, they quietly locked the door, and fastened him in.\n\nHaving concealed their prisoners among the bushes, the convicts returned\non board the schooner, and, assisted by the three sailors, proceeded to\nget her under way. They slipped the anchor, turned her around with the\nhelp of the cutter, and when she was fairly under the influence of the\ncurrent, one of the convicts returned to the shore in the boat to await\nthe appearance of Fowler and the ticket-of-leave man, who had been\nintrusted with the work of seizing Walter Gaylord. Fortunately for\nWalter, there was a slight hitch in the proceedings right here, and the\nwrong man was taken.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IX.\n A YANKEE TRICK.\n\n\nIt had been the custom of the Club, during their sojourn under Mr.\nWilbur\u2019s roof, to pass the hours that intervened between dark and\nbedtime on the veranda, singing songs, or listening to the stories of\none of the sheep-herders. It was to be Fowler\u2019s business to separate\nWalter from his companions, and, under pretence of telling him something\nthat it was very important he should know, conduct him down a shaded\nlane a short distance from the house. Bob was to be concealed somewhere\nalong the route, and when they passed his ambush he was to jump out,\ncollar them both (for reasons of his own Fowler wished to have it appear\nthat he was in no way connected with the plot), and march them down to\nthe river-bank, where the boat was waiting for them.\n\nThe Club, who had gone off somewhere on purpose to be rid of the young\nEnglishman, were absent so long that Fowler began to be very uneasy,\nfearing that they might stay until so late an hour that it would be\nimpossible for him to carry out his part of the programme. But they came\nshortly after dark, to the clerk\u2019s great relief, and after disposing of\na hearty supper gathered on the veranda as usual. Fowler had more\ndifficulty in persuading Walter to \u201ctake a walk\u201d with him than he had\nanticipated. The captain\u2019s nephew had taken a great dislike to the\nclerk, for some reason, and wanted little to do with him; but he yielded\nat last, and Fowler took him by the arm and led him toward the lane.\n\nAs bad luck would have it, they encountered Archie Winters, who was also\nout for an after-supper stroll. On Walter\u2019s invitation he joined the two\nand walked with them. This did not suit Fowler. It was a larger party\nthan he had bargained for. Bob had but two hands, and Fowler did not see\nhow he could manage three persons with them. Either Walter or Archie\nmight elude his grasp and slip away in the darkness, and that would be a\nmisfortune. As soon as he had made good his escape he would go straight\nto the house, tell what had been going on in the lane, and that would\nlead to an investigation which would probably result in the discovery of\nthe fact that the schooner was missing. That was a matter that must be\nkept secret as long as possible, in order to give the managers a good\nlong start. After thinking over these points for a few minutes, the\nclerk turned and went back up the lane again with Walter, paying no\nfurther attention to the movements of Archie, who, he hoped, would soon\nget tired of his walk, and leave the coast clear for him.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t want to speak in the presence of a third party,\u201d said Fowler.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll come back as soon as Archie goes away.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not tell me now?\u201d asked Walter. \u201cWe are alone.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know, but it is a long story, and it will take me half an hour to go\ninto all the details.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, let it go till morning then. I am too tired to spend half an hour\nmore in walking.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps I can tell it in ten or fifteen minutes,\u201d said Fowler.\n\n\u201cLet it go until morning,\u201d repeated Walter.\n\n\u201cBut it is about an attempt to rob your safe while you were gone.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d\n\n\u201cI assure you it is a fact, upon my word and honor as a gentleman. I\nfound it out by the merest accident.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen why didn\u2019t one of the mates speak about it?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause they were in the plot,\u201d replied the clerk, sinking his voice\nalmost to a whisper. \u201cI\u2019ll take you to that boat with me if I have to\ncarry you under my arm,\u201d he added, mentally.\n\n\u201cFowler!\u201d exclaimed Walter, turning upon him almost fiercely, \u201cdo you\nwant me to\u2014\u201d Walter finished the sentence by pushing up his coat\nsleeves. \u201cDo you? If you don\u2019t, don\u2019t let me hear you say another word\nagainst Mr. Baldwin or Mr. Parker. My uncle would trust them with the\nkey of his safe as readily as he trusts me with it. They\u2019re honest, and\nthat\u2019s more than I think you are.\u201d\n\nWalter\u2019s leavetaking was so very abrupt and unceremonious that Fowler\ncould have made no attempt to detain him, even had he felt so disposed.\nBut he did not want to make the attempt. He stood silent and motionless\nwhere Walter left him, and saw the latter join the merry group on the\nveranda. Presently they all arose from their seats and went into the\nhouse. It was well for Fowler that he let him go, for the wiry young\npaymaster could have tossed him over the nearest fence with almost as\nmuch ease as Fowler himself could tell a lie.\n\nBeing disappointed in his attempts to make a prisoner of Walter, the\nconsul\u2019s clerk began to think of himself. He ran down the river-bank,\nand presently reached the spot where Bob and the other convict were\nkeeping guard over somebody in a Panama hat and black suit, who was\nseated in the stern of the boat.\n\n\u201cIs that you, Fowler?\u201d demanded the ticket-of-leave man, impatiently. \u201cI\nwas just going to push off. I have waited for you long enough. I caught\nthis fellow half an hour ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis fellow? What fellow?\u201d demanded the clerk.\n\n\u201cWhy, the paymaster, of course. Who else did I want to catch? I saw him\ngoing along the lane, so I just jumped out and nabbed him.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d exclaimed Archie, for he it was who was seated in the stern of the\nboat. \u201cI wondered what you could want of me. Seeing that I am not the\nfellow you\u2019re after, you\u2019ll let me go, won\u2019t you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWinters!\u201d cried the clerk, in great amazement. \u201cNow you have made a\nmess of it, Bob. You\u2019ve grabbed the wrong chap.\u201d\n\n\u201cJump in here,\u201d replied the ticket-of-leave man, seizing the bow of the\nboat preparatory to shoving off. \u201cI know just what I\u2019ve done. I got\norders from Waters.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I tell you that you don\u2019t know what you\u2019ve done. I left the\npaymaster and saw him go into the house not ten minutes ago,\u201d insisted\nFowler. \u201cThis fellow is of no use to us.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit,\u201d chimed in Archie. \u201cIf money is what you\u2019re after I can\u2019t\nhelp you to a guinea. I am dead broke.\u201d\n\nThe ticket-of-leave man let go of the boat, and straightening up looked\nfirst at his fellow-convict and then at Fowler. \u201cWell it\u2019s his own\nfault,\u201d said he, after thinking a moment. \u201cHe had no business to have\nthem clothes and that hat on. What shall we do with him?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me go,\u201d said Archie. \u201cThat\u2019s all you can do with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot by a long shot we won\u2019t let you go,\u201d replied the ticket-of-leave\nman. \u201cYou\u2019d talk too much when you got back to your friends. If I only\nhad a piece of rope, I\u2019d tie him and leave him out in the bushes with\nthe others; but I ain\u2019t got it. He\u2019ll have to go with us; there\u2019s no\nother way. Jump in, Fowler. We\u2019ve wasted too much time already. The\nschooner must be a mile or two outside.\u201d\n\nFowler picked up one of the oars, Bob and the other convict, having\npushed the boat away from the shore, sprang in and picked up two more,\nwhile Archie, in obedience to orders, laid hold of the tiller ropes. He\ndid not remonstrate with his captors, for his past experience had taught\nhim that in circumstances like these words were useless. He devoted his\nwhole attention to steering the boat and looking out for the schooner.\nThey found her a mile outside of the mouth of the river, lying to and\nwaiting for them. Waters stormed a little at Fowler because so much\nprecious time had been wasted, and looked as though he wanted to swear\nwhen he found that Bob had captured Archie instead of the paymaster; but\na few words from the ticket-of-leave man smoothed his ruffled temper,\nand Archie was ordered below under guard.\n\nThis is the version of the story which Waters told Frank that night\nduring the latter\u2019s watch. When it was finished the young captain said:\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see that you need Walter at all. You say that Bob is\nexperienced in such matters, and that he can easily work his way into\nthat safe with a hammer and a cold chisel.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that,\u201d replied Waters, \u201cand I know another thing, too: when\nfolks travel in this way, they generally carry their money in bills of\ncredit.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what of it?\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d repeated Waters, \u201cwe wanted the paymaster to get them cashed for\nus.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe wouldn\u2019t have done it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think he would. You could have made him do it easy enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd do you imagine that I would use my influence to induce him to turn\nhis uncle\u2019s money over to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do think just that. You\u2019d do it sooner than see me raise a racket\nlike I did once aboard this very vessel, wouldn\u2019t you? You wouldn\u2019t like\nto have me reach for you, would you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOho!\u201d exclaimed Frank. \u201cThen it appears that you intended to make use\nof me in two different ways. Besides making me act as captain of the\nschooner, you were going to hold me as a sort of hostage to compel\nWalter to do as you wanted him to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s about the way I fixed it up in my own mind,\u201d said Waters.\n\n\u201cIf you intended to work on the paymaster\u2019s feelings in that way, you\nought to have captured his brother,\u201d said Frank. \u201cThat would have been\nthe surer way.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind that. I know all about you and him too. You saved Eugene\u2019s\nlife, and helped Walter out of the worst scrape he ever got into, and\nthey and their old uncle would give you the schooner if you asked for\nit. The paymaster would do anything before he would see harm come to\nyou.\u201d\n\nBy this time it was twelve o\u2019clock. Frank called his cousin, and after\nhe had seen the watch relieved, he went below and tumbled in bed. He was\ntoo excited to sleep much, and at the first peep of day he was up and\ndressed. The first object on which his eyes rested as he stepped out of\nhis stateroom, was Waters\u2019s burly form stretched out in front of the\ncabin door. \u201cHe meant that I shouldn\u2019t go on deck without waking him,\u201d\nthought Frank. \u201cIt is anything but agreeable to know that I can\u2019t move\nunless this ruffian is at my side.\u201d\n\nFrank seized the man by the shoulder and shook him roughly, intending to\ntell him, when he awoke, that it was time he was going on deck to see\nhow things were working there; but the giant only breathed the harder,\nand rolled from side to side on his mattress without once opening his\neyes. After spending five minutes in the vain effort to arouse him,\nFrank opened the door, stepped over the prostrate figure and ascended to\nthe deck. They were alone on the deep. The schooner was bowling along\nbefore a fine breeze, and there was not a sail in sight. Archie was\nwalking up and down in the waist with his hands in his pockets, and the\nticket-of-leave-man stood leaning against the rail close by, keeping\nguard over him.\n\n\u201cHow long has that man been at the wheel?\u201d asked the young captain.\n\n\u201cSince three o\u2019clock,\u201d answered Archie. \u201cI stood there myself until I\ngot so sleepy that I couldn\u2019t hold her steady.\u201d\n\nFrank went aft to relieve the helmsman, who was one of the Stranger\u2019s\ncrew. As he laid his hand upon the wheel the sailor saluted him\nrespectfully, but Frank paid no sort of attention to him. The man seemed\nhurt by this direct cut. He glanced toward the waist, and seeing that\nthe eyes of Archie\u2019s keeper were fastened upon him, he turned and\npointed over the stern towards the horizon, where a faint cloud of smoke\nmarked the path of a steamer.\n\n\u201cThat may be a man-o\u2019-war, sir,\u201d said he, in a low tone, \u201cbut that ain\u2019t\nwhat I want to say to you. I\u2019d give everything that\u2019s coming to me from\nthis schooner if she was back where she belongs.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish she was there, too,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re all sick of our bargain, sir, and we don\u2019t see how we come to do\nit,\u201d continued the sailor, still pointing toward the cloud of smoke in\norder to make Archie\u2019s guard believe that he was talking about the\nsteamer in the distance. \u201cIf you want to take the ship, sir, we\u2019ll all\nstand by you if we lose our lives by it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t want to take the ship.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re afraid to trust us, ain\u2019t you, sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I am. Men who will prove unfaithful once, will do so again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s going on there between you two?\u201d demanded the ticket-of-leave\nman, suddenly.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s a steamer over there,\u201d replied Frank, \u201cand Brown says it may be\na man-of-war.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, when he gets through saying it he\u2019d better get away from there,\u201d\nreturned Bob.\n\nThe man went, and Frank kept his place at the wheel until breakfast was\nready. All that morning he waited and watched for an opportunity to say\na word to Archie in private, but none was offered until after he had\ntaken his observation at noon. While he was busy with his chart, Archie\ncame into the cabin, apparently for the purpose of changing his coat,\nbut really to exchange a word or two with his cousin. He went into his\nstateroom, pulled off the coat he had on, and came out with the other in\nhis hand.\n\n\u201cI have found out something,\u201d said he, in a low tone, as he bent down\nand looked over Frank\u2019s shoulder.\n\nThe young captain glanced up hastily and saw that Waters was standing on\nthe quarter-deck, watching them closely through the open skylights. To\ndisarm the man\u2019s suspicions, if he had any, Frank caught up his parallel\nruler, and began moving it about over the chart as if he were working\nout a course.\n\n\u201cBe careful,\u201d he whispered, earnestly. \u201cDon\u2019t look up. Waters has his\neyes on us. What have you found out?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat all our men are sorry for what they have done, and are ready to\nmake amends for it. Bob doesn\u2019t watch me as closely as Waters does you,\nand so I have had three or four chances to talk with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t trust them,\u201d said Frank; and then he made some figures on a\nslip of paper and handed it over to Archie, who examined it with a great\nshow of interest.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve found out another thing, too,\u201d added Archie, shaking his head as\nhe handed the paper back, as if to imply that his cousin\u2019s calculations\nwere not correct, \u201cand that is, that Waters sleeps like a log. I was in\nthe cabin three times last night, and the first time I came in I\nstumbled over him before I saw him and fell flat; but the noise I made\nnever awoke him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know he sleeps soundly,\u201d returned Frank. \u201cNow, Archie, let me say\u201d\u2014\n\n\u201cAnd another thing,\u201d interrupted Archie, earnestly, \u201cthere are two\nloaded revolvers in Uncle Dick\u2019s bunk, under the foot of the mattress,\nthat these fellows don\u2019t know anything about. I was pretty certain they\nwere there, so I went in last night and satisfied myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them stay there,\u201d replied Frank. \u201cThey are of no use to us. Now,\nArchie, while I have the chance, I want to tell you that I shall make no\nattempt to take the vessel out of the hands of these scoundrels. As far\nas I am concerned, I am ready for anything; but if danger should befall\nyou through me, what should I say to your father and mother when I get\nhome? I am responsible for you, in a certain sense, and I wish with all\nmy heart that you were safe ashore.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you take me for a little boy?\u201d whispered Archie, almost indignantly.\n\u201cI am almost as old as you are, and I want you to understand that I am\nable to take care of myself. You are not responsible for me in any way.\nYou may be glad that I am here before this voyage is ended.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you two fellows talking about down there?\u201d demanded Waters. \u201cYour\nheads are almost too close together to suit me. You had better come up\nhere, my little man.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is his watch below,\u201d said Frank, \u201cI belong on deck myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome up here, then.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will as soon as I get through.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen let the little one go to bed,\u201d exclaimed Waters, in a louder tone,\nwhich showed that he was getting angry; \u201cI want you two apart; and if\nyou don\u2019t get apart pretty quick I\u2019ll come down there and separate you.\u201d\n\nArchie went into his stateroom, and closed the door behind him, while\nFrank, having completed his calculations, ran up the ladder, and took\ncharge of the deck.\n\nDuring the day everything passed off smoothly. The crew were obedient\nand prompt, and the schooner was as well sailed as she would have been\nhad her lawful captain been on her quarter-deck. Just before dark some\ninterest was excited among those on board by the discovery of a large\nsteamer, which appeared to be following in their wake. Frank watched her\nthrough his glass until the night shut her out from his view.\n\n\u201cCan you make her out?\u201d asked Waters.\n\n\u201cNo, I cannot,\u201d answered Frank. \u201cShe is too far off.\u201d\n\n\u201cBrown says she looks rather suspicious.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, he\u2019s an old sailor, and ought to be able to tell a man-o\u2019-war\nfrom a merchantman, even at that distance.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf she is following us, what time will she come up with us?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout midnight, perhaps, if this wind holds.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen look out for fun,\u201d exclaimed Waters, striking his open palm with\nhis clenched hand. \u201cWe\u2019ve all got two revolvers apiece; we\u2019ve got all\nthe muskets belonging to the schooner piled up in the cabin, where we\ncan get our hands upon them at a moment\u2019s notice; and,\u201d he added,\njerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the twenty-four pounder,\n\u201cBrown says you\u2019re the best fellow to work these guns that he ever saw.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have had some experience with them,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll give the man-hunters a lively tussle,\u201d added the convict.\n\n\u201cWhat will be the use of that?\u201d asked Frank. \u201cIf you beat off her boats\nwhen she sends them out to board us, she\u2019ll open on us with her big guns\nand sink us.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter. We\u2019d sooner she\u2019d do that than take us back. But \u2019spose now,\ncaptain, that you knew that steamer was a war vessel, and that you was a\nsmuggler or something, who had reasons for keeping out of her way, what\nwould you do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should wait until it was pitch dark, and then I\u2019d put out all lights,\ncome about, and sail right back to meet her,\u201d said Frank, who had\nalready made up his mind that it would be better to put this plan into\noperation than to risk a battle with the steamer if she should prove to\nbe a man-of-war. He knew that the convicts would fight desperately\nbefore they would permit themselves to be taken back. Of course they\nwould be beaten and overpowered, as they deserved to be, but what would\nbecome of himself and Archie in the meantime? How would the beautiful\nlittle Stranger look after a broadside from the man-of-war? \u201cI should,\nof course, pass her at such a distance that she wouldn\u2019t discover me,\u201d\nadded Frank, \u201cand at daylight we would be out of sight of each other.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a regular Yankee trick,\u201d exclaimed Waters. \u201cDon\u2019t you think you\nhad better try it?\u201d\n\nThe young captain thought he had, and he did. The ruse was entirely\nsuccessful. They passed the steamer a little after eleven o\u2019clock. They\ncould see the lights at her catheads, and hear the pounding of her\npaddle-wheels, but their own vessel was invisible in the darkness. There\nwere no lamps to betray her to the watchful eyes of the steamer\u2019s\nlookout, for those in the cabin were shut out from view by a tarpaulin\nwhich was thrown over the skylights, and the one in the binnacle threw\nout only sufficient light to show the face of the compass. Waters\nquestioned the sailors, and they told him that the vessel was\nundoubtedly a man-of-war. She showed too few lights for a passenger\nsteamer. Waters breathed easier when she was out of sight.\n\n\u201cCaptain,\u201d he exclaimed, taking Frank\u2019s hand in his own, and giving it a\nhearty gripe and shake, \u201cif I had a thousand pounds of my own I\u2019d as\nsoon give it to you as not. It takes Yankees to do things, after all.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a fact,\u201d said Archie. \u201cWe whipped you English gentlemen twice,\nand we can do it again.\u201d\n\nArchie\u2019s pert speeches seemed to afford the giant a world of amusement.\n\u201cDid you have a hand in it, my little man?\u201d he asked, with a laugh.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied Archie, slowly, \u201cI didn\u2019t. There was one little thing that\nprevented me\u2014a very little thing, and I have always been sorry for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat was that?\u201d asked Waters.\n\n\u201cI wasn\u2019t born.\u201d\n\nEverybody roared except Fowler, and he was angry.\n\nFrank remained on deck till midnight, and then believing that all danger\nof discovery had passed, he told Archie to have the tarpaulin removed\nfrom the skylights, to send one watch below, and then go to bed himself.\n\u201cYou go to bed,\u201d replied Archie. \u201cI am not at all sleepy, and I might as\nwell stay on deck as to roll about in my bunk for six hours. As for that\ntarpaulin\u2014if it will suit you as well, I will leave it where it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy do you want to do that? It will be more cheerful with a little more\nlight on deck.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just what\u2019s the matter. I don\u2019t want more light on deck.\u201d\n\nHis cousin told him to do as he pleased about it, and having seen one of\nthe watches sent below, he went into the cabin, and lay down on his\nbunk. It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes in sleep\nwhen a hand was laid softly on his shoulder. He started up quickly, and\nsaw Archie standing by the side of his bunk with his finger on his lips.\n\n\u201cNot a word above your breath for your life,\u201d whispered the latter,\nwhose face was as white as a sheet, and as he said it, he put something\ninto Frank\u2019s hand. It was one of Uncle Dick\u2019s revolvers. \u201cIt is loaded\nand all ready for use,\u201d whispered Archie. \u201cI have done the worst part of\nthe work. The men are on deck and waiting, and all you have to do is to\ntell them what your wishes are. I\u2019m a little boy, am I, and you\u2019re\nresponsible for me, are you? You wish I was ashore where I belong, don\u2019t\nyou? We\u2019ll have the schooner in five minutes more. Come out here, and\nI\u2019ll show you why I wanted the tarpaulin left over the skylights.\u201d\n\nAll this was Greek to Frank, who, not yet fairly awake, sat up in his\nbunk staring blankly, first at his cousin, and then at the revolver he\nheld in his hand; but when Archie laid hold of his arm, he sprang\nlightly upon the floor and stepped out into the cabin.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER X.\n ARCHIE PROVES HIMSELF A HERO.\n\n\n\u201cLook there,\u201d whispered Archie. \u201cCould any little boy do that?\u201d\n\nFrank looked, and was greatly astonished at what he saw. There lay\nWaters, fast asleep on his mattress in front of the cabin door, but he\nwas a prisoner, his hands and feet being securely ironed. Frank could\nscarcely believe that his eyes were not deceiving him.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s why I didn\u2019t want the tarpaulin taken off the skylights,\u201d\ncontinued Archie. \u201cBob could have looked right down into the cabin and\nseen everything I did. I slipped down here and put the irons on him and\nnever woke him up. It was the hardest piece of work I ever did, too,\u201d he\nadded, drawing his hand across his forehead, on which the perspiration\nstood in great beads.\n\nFrank could well believe it. His cousin\u2019s face bore unmistakable\nevidence that the ordeal through which he had passed had been a most\ntrying one. What if the first touch of the cold irons had aroused the\ngiant from his slumbers! Archie probably never would have lived to tell\nwhat he had attempted to do. He had more nerve than his cousin had ever\ngiven him credit for.\n\n\u201cI am glad it is done,\u201d continued Archie. \u201cI don\u2019t know whether I could\ndo it again or not. I\u2019m afraid I couldn\u2019t. I took his tools, too,\u201d he\nwent on, drawing a huge revolver from each of the outside pockets of his\ncoat. \u201cI\u2019ll give you one and keep the other. The next thing is to make\nsure of our friend Bob, and then we\u2019ll pay our respects to the other\nfellow on deck. He said he was tired, so I made him up a good bed and\ntold him to go to sleep on it.\u201d\n\nBy this time Frank had fully recovered from his amazement and was\nprepared to act. He saw the necessity of promptly completing the good\nwork so well begun. Without saying a word he opened the door, stepped\nover the slumbering giant, and led the way to the quarter-deck. At the\nhead of the ladder he encountered the ticket-of-leave man.\n\n\u201cWhat have you been doing?\u201d demanded the latter, addressing himself to\nArchie. \u201cI was just coming down after you. The next time you go down\nthere I want to know it, so that I can go with you, do you hear? I don\u2019t\nlike the way you have been skipping about the vessel to-night, and I\nwon\u2019t have any more of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d said Archie. \u201cI don\u2019t see any reason that you should get on\na high horse simply because I went down to call the captain. Do you want\nme to tell you when I want to wink or sneeze? Any man with half an eye\ncan see that the breeze is freshening. Hallo! What\u2019s that over there?\nLooks like something.\u201d\n\nWhile this conversation was going on, Frank had thrown back one corner\nof the tarpaulin so that the light from the cabin lamps could shine\nthrough the skylights. He had a dangerous piece of work to perform, and\nhe did not want to operate in the dark. As Bob turned to look at the\nobject which Archie pretended he had discovered off the weather beam,\nFrank stepped quickly around the corner of the skylights and laid his\nhand upon his shoulder. The ticket-of-leave man faced about and saw the\nmuzzle of a cocked revolver looking him squarely in the face. He saw\nmore. He saw three figures come out from the shadow of the galley, and\nrange themselves on both sides of him. They were the cook, and two\nof the sailors belonging to the crew of the Stranger. They all carried\nhandspikes, and their presence there indicated that Archie had neglected\nno precautions to insure the complete success of his undertaking. How he\nhad managed to lay his plans so well when almost every move he made was\nclosely watched by his keeper, was a great mystery to his cousin.\n\nThe ticket-of-leave man shrank away from the muzzle of Frank\u2019s revolver,\nand brought his head in contact with another six-shooter with which\nArchie had covered him on the opposite side. \u201cDon\u2019t shoot!\u201d he gasped.\n\n\u201cWe don\u2019t intend to shoot, unless you make it necessary,\u201d replied Frank.\n\u201cWe have things all our own way now, and if you will quietly submit, we\nwill treat you as well as you have treated us with this exception: we\ncan\u2019t allow you your liberty. Brown, you and the Doctor take hold of his\nhands. Stevens, go through his pockets, and if you find any weapons\nthere, throw them overboard. Bob will have no further use for them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019s Waters?\u201d demanded the ticket-of-leave man, who showed a\ndisposition to resist when he saw Archie put up his revolver and draw a\npair of handcuffs from his pocket.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s in the cabin, and in irons, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t believe it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t trouble us any, for we know he is. He sleeps like a log,\nas you are aware.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: ARCHIE RECAPTURES THE \u201cSTRANGER.\u201d]\n\nThis was all Bob cared to hear. He knew now how the giant had been\nsecured, and without another word or the least show of resistance, he\nallowed Archie to lock the irons about his wrists and ankles. This being\ndone, and the revolvers which Stevens found in his pockets having been\ntossed over the side, the ticket-of-leave man was commanded to sit down\non the deck and remain there quietly under guard of the cook,\nwhile Frank and his companions went forward to secure the other\nconvicts. The one who belonged to the starboard watch was fast asleep on\nthe mattress which Archie had provided for him. He was ironed before he\nwas fairly awake, and was marched to the quarter-deck and ordered to sit\ndown by the side of the ticket-of-leave man. His revolvers were also\nconsigned to the care of Old Neptune, for Frank did not think it safe to\nhave too many of these dangerous weapons on board. The two convicts who\nwere asleep in the forecastle were also secured without difficulty. One\nof them made a feeble resistance at first, but a sharp punch from\nBrown\u2019s handspike brought him to his senses. The work was all done in\nfive minutes, and then Frank and his cousin looked at each other and\ndrew a long breath of relief.\n\n\u201cThis relieves me from answering a very disagreeable question,\u201d said the\nyoung captain\u2014\u201cone that I could not bear to think of; that is, what\nwould have become of Uncle Dick and the rest if we had been obliged to\ntake these fellows to \u2019Frisco, and what would we have done with the\nschooner after we got there? I thought our voyage was ended sure\nenough.\u201d\n\nThe two convicts in the forecastle having been secured, Frank ordered\nthem on deck and marched them into the cabin, picking up Bob and his\ncompanion on the way. Waters was still fast asleep on his mattress, and\neach of the prisoners gave him a hearty kick as he stepped over him.\nThis finally aroused the giant, who started up with an angry exclamation\non his lips, but he sank back on his mattress again when he saw Brown\nstanding over him with uplifted handspike. Then his eyes wandered to his\ncompanions, who in obedience to Frank\u2019s orders had seated themselves in\na row against the after bulkhead, and from them they came back to the\nirons on his wrists and ankles. Archie expected him to go into a perfect\ntempest of fury, but Waters did nothing of the kind. He had probably had\nthe bracelets on him often enough to know that they render a man utterly\npowerless for mischief. He leaned his elbow on the mattress and rested\nhis head on his hand. \u201cWho done it, cap\u2019n?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cI did,\u201d replied Archie.\n\n\u201cYou!\u201d exclaimed the giant. He ran his eyes over Archie\u2019s slender little\nfigure, and then looked down at his own colossal proportions. \u201cWell,\nyou\u2019re the pluckiest little chap I ever saw. There isn\u2019t a man in\nTasmania who could be hired to do such a thing. Did you know that you\nran the biggest kind of a risk?\u201d\n\n\u201cI did, but I took the chances.\u201d\n\n\u201cI might have knowed that I\u2019d have some Yankee trick or another played\non me before I got through with this business,\u201d growled Waters.\n\n\u201cGet up and sit with the rest,\u201d said Archie. \u201cYou are right in the way\nthere.\u201d\n\nHe hardly expected that the giant would obey, but he did, and that, too,\nwithout an instant\u2019s hesitation. He arose and took his place with his\ncompanions, who at once began to upbraid him for being the cause of\ntheir misfortunes. \u201cIf he had not slept so soundly, that little Yankee\nnever would have thought of putting irons on him,\u201d they said. \u201cWhy\ncouldn\u2019t he keep one eye about half open when he knew that his liberty\nwas the price of vigilance?\u201d Waters replied in an angry tone, and the\ndebate grew hotter and louder until Frank commanded silence.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re not going to have bedlam here,\u201d said he, emphatically. \u201cIf you\nwant to stay in the cabin you must keep quiet; if you don\u2019t you\u2019ll all\ngo in the brig.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter out there?\u201d demanded a voice from one of the\nstaterooms.\n\n\u201cOh! my young cockney friend, is that you?\u201d exclaimed Archie. \u201cWe\u2019ve got\nsomething to show you; here it is.\u201d\n\nOnce more Frank had occasion to wonder at the forethought displayed by\nhis cousin. The latter raised one corner of the cloth that covered the\ntable, and brought out a pair of handcuffs, with which he went into the\nclerk\u2019s stateroom. At the sight of the irons Fowler bounded out of his\nbunk, and made an effort to thrust Archie aside so that he could run out\ninto the cabin.\n\n\u201cEasy, easy,\u201d exclaimed Archie, standing his ground in spite of the\nclerk\u2019s efforts to push him away; \u201cit will do no good to raise a rumpus\nnow.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the meaning of this, and where\u2019s Waters?\u201d demanded Fowler, as\nsoon as he could speak.\n\n\u201cIt means that you have had charge of the vessel long enough,\u201d answered\nArchie. \u201cOur little pleasure trip is ended now, and we are going back to\nHobart Town. If you want to see Waters, there he is.\u201d\n\nArchie stepped aside so that Fowler could look out into the cabin. The\nlatter was almost overwhelmed by the sight that met his gaze.\n\n\u201cYou might as well give in, Gus,\u201d said the giant. \u201cThe Yankees have the\nupper hand.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t put those things on me,\u201d cried the clerk. \u201cI won\u2019t do a thing.\nI\u2014I\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d interrupted Archie. \u201cI know all about it; but you can\u2019t be\ntrusted, and it must be done.\u201d\n\nIt was done, too. The clerk resisted and remonstrated, but all to no\npurpose. With the Doctor\u2019s assistance the irons were put on, and Fowler\nwas led out into the cabin, and commanded to sit down with the rest.\n\nThe enemy were now all secured, and Frank had the vessel to himself. He\nmeant to keep her, too, so he lost no time in providing for any\nemergency that might arise. He knew that his prisoners would not permit\nthemselves to be carried back to Hobart Town if they could help it, and\nif the opportunity were presented, they would make a desperate effort to\nregain control of the schooner. If Frank had had full confidence in his\ncrew, he would have felt no uneasiness whatever; but there were the\nthree foremast hands, who had once betrayed their trust! True, they had\nrepented, and assisted him in securing the convicts; but might they not\nalso repent of that act, and try to undo it? There was no dependence to\nbe placed in such men. There was one he could trust, and that was the\nDoctor. Him Frank armed with a loaded musket, and placed as a guard over\nthe convicts, with instructions to shoot the first one who made any\neffort to free himself from his irons. Then he went on deck, feeling\nperfectly safe.\n\nFrank\u2019s first care was to bring the schooner about, and shape her course\ntoward Hobart Town, as nearly as he could guess at it, and his next to\nput it out of the power of the convicts to do any great damage, even if\nthey should succeed in freeing themselves from their irons, and gaining\na footing on deck. He and Archie had possession of the only loaded\nfirearms on board, and he did not intend that anybody else should get\nany without considerable trouble. The mess-chests were emptied of the\npots and pans they contained, and the muskets and other small arms\nbelonging to the vessel being packed away in them, the chests were\nclosed and locked. The keys were hidden where no one but himself would\never think of looking for them, and the lids were further secured by\nbeing nailed down. The keys to the magazine, which were kept hung up in\nUncle Dick\u2019s stateroom, were also concealed, and then Frank told himself\nthat he was master of the vessel. If Waters and his companions should\nsucceed in regaining their liberty, either by stratagem or through the\ntreachery of some of the crew, they would find nothing but handspikes\nand belaying-pins to fight with, and he and Archie, with their brace of\nrevolvers apiece, could easily overcome them.\n\nWhen he went into the cabin he told himself that he had been wise in\ntaking all these precautions, for Waters had already been trying to\nbribe the guard to procure a key and release him. He had offered him a\nthousand pounds for the service.\n\n\u201cWhar\u2019s you gwine to get so much money to give dis niggah?\u201d the Doctor\nwas saying just as Frank came in.\n\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s in the strong box,\u201d replied Waters, not at all abashed by the\npresence of the captain.\n\n\u201cDat money in dar \u2019longs to Cap\u2019n Gaylord,\u201d said the Doctor. \u201c\u2019Pears\nlike you\u2019s makin\u2019 mighty free wid oder folk\u2019s money.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo on, Waters,\u201d said Frank. \u201cYou told me not to tamper with the men,\nand I didn\u2019t; but I\u2019ll give you permission to try all your arts on the\nDoctor. He\u2019s true blue.\u201d\n\n\u201cI call him black,\u201d said Waters.\n\nThe Doctor laughed heartily at this joke, and Frank, after glancing at\neach of the prisoners in turn, went on deck satisfied that he had left\nthem in safe hands. He did not go to bed again that night, and neither\ndid Archie. They and the Doctor relieved one another every two hours in\nkeeping watch over the prisoners; and when not on guard, they stood\nalternate tricks at the wheel in order to give the three foremast hands\na chance to rest.\n\n\u201cHave me and my mates made amends for striking hands with them fellows,\ncap\u2019n?\u201d asked Brown, when Frank went aft to take his place at the helm.\n\n\u201cYes, I think you have,\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cWhat will the old man do with us when we get to port?\u201d continued Brown.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know. If I were in his place, I should call the thing square.\nYou helped take the vessel, but you helped get her back again, and so\nyou\u2019re even.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you was the cap\u2019n would you take us back into the crew again?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I would.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t mind saying that much to the old man, would you, sir? We\nwant a chance to show him how sorry we are.\u201d\n\nFrank replied that he would bear the matter in mind, and the repentant\nsailor went forward feeling as if a mountain had been removed from his\nshoulders. The other two approached Frank on the same subject, at the\nfirst opportunity, and were both sent away with the assurance that Uncle\nDick should hear a full account of the services they had rendered, and\nif a word of recommendation from himself and Archie would benefit them\nin any way, they should certainly have it. While he was at the wheel his\ncousin came up.\n\n\u201cI declare, it seems delightful to be able to talk to you once more\nwithout having some one around to hear what I say,\u201d exclaimed the\nlatter. \u201cI hope we shall always get out of the scrapes we get into as\neasily as we got out of this.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have done wonders,\u201d answered Frank. \u201cThe honor all belongs to you,\nand I hope no one will rob you of any portion of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho\u2019s going to rob me,\u201d demanded Archie.\n\n\u201cWhy, after what has been done, we ought to take the vessel and these\nprisoners back to Hobart Town without help from anybody. But if that\nsteamer we saw last night was a man-o\u2019-war\u2014and I think she was, for she\ndidn\u2019t show lights enough for a merchantman\u2014she will soon discover the\ntrick we played upon her, and be back after us.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, suppose she does come back after us! She\u2019ll not trouble us. There\nis no need of it, for we are in a position to take care of ourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll see,\u201d said Frank. \u201cHer captain probably has orders to take\ncharge of the vessel, and if he comes up with us he\u2019ll do it.\u201d\n\nArchie did see, and so did Frank. Shortly after daylight, while the\nlatter was taking his turn guarding the prisoners, Archie suddenly\nappeared at the head of the companion-ladder and shouted:\n\n\u201cHere she comes. Shall I send the Doctor down to relieve you?\u201d\n\nFrank replied in the affirmative, and when the Doctor came down, he\nhurried to the deck. The steamer they had seen the night before was a\nlittle way in advance of them, and about three miles distant. She was\nfollowing a course almost at right angles with the one the Stranger was\npursuing, and that looked as if it was her intention to intercept the\nschooner.\n\n\u201cWhen I first saw the smoke, she was bearing away to the southwest,\u201d\nsaid Archie. \u201cThen the mist lifted a little, and when she caught sight\nof us, she changed her course at once. That means business, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\nFrank was quite sure it did. He went down into the cabin after Uncle\nDick\u2019s trumpet, and wanted to see what the steamer was going to do. When\nshe had approached within half a mile, the English flag was run up to\nthe peak, and all her broadside ports were dropped. Through their\nglasses the boys could see that her crew were at quarters.\n\n\u201cShe couldn\u2019t make greater preparations if she were about to come\nalongside a hostile frigate,\u201d said Archie. \u201cI wish she\u2019d sheer off and\nlet us alone. She is of no use here.\u201d\n\n\u201cBrown, show that captain that we float a prettier flag than he does,\u201d\nsaid Frank.\n\nBrown hurried to the signal-chest, and presently a little round ball,\nthat one could almost cover with his hands, went travelling up to the\nStranger\u2019s peak. Then a little twitch with one of the halliards\nunfastened the bundle, and the American colors streamed out to the\nbreeze. The young captain was as proud of that flag as the English\ncommander was of his.\n\nHaving placed himself directly across the schooner\u2019s path, the steamer\nstopped her engines, and presently her whistle was blown three times.\nFrank replied by bringing his vessel up into the wind, this being a\nsignal that the British captain had something to say to him.\n\n\u201cWhat schooner is that?\u201d shouted a hoarse voice from the steamer\u2019s deck.\n\n\u201cThe Stranger, bound to Hobart Town,\u201d replied Frank, through his\ntrumpet.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll send a boat aboard of you,\u201d shouted the voice.\n\n\u201cVery good, sir,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t think it is very good,\u201d exclaimed Archie. \u201cI think it is very\nbad. We\u2019ve got to give up the vessel now, and we\u2019ll be taken into port\nas if we were prisoners ourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have the satisfaction of going in under our own flag,\u201d said\nFrank, \u201cyou may depend upon that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWon\u2019t you haul it down if they tell you to do so?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means. We are not prisoners of war. If an English officer sails\nour craft into port, he will do it with our flag floating over him.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps he will haul it down himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps he will, and then again perhaps he won\u2019t touch it. Did you\nnever hear about those young English middies who pulled down the flag\nthat was floating over the American consulate in Honolulu? They put it\nback again in short order, and with an apology, too.\u201d\n\nThe steamer\u2019s boat came in sight while this conversation was going on,\nand Archie, who levelled his glass at it, informed his cousin that there\nwere two officers sitting in the stern sheets, and that it was crowded\nwith men, who were all armed. It came alongside in a few minutes, and\nthe old gray-headed lieutenant who was in charge looked a little\nsurprised when Frank handed the man-ropes to him. He had doubtless\nexpected a very different reception. He clambered aboard, followed by\nhis men, who handled their weapons nervously, and looked all about as if\nexpecting an attack from some quarter. The expression of astonishment\ntheir faces wore was reflected in the countenances of their officers,\nwho acted as if they thought they had got a little out of their\nreckoning.\n\n\u201cAre you the captain, sir?\u201d asked the gray-headed lieutenant, returning\nFrank\u2019s salute.\n\n\u201cAt present, yes, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere must be some mistake,\u201d continued the officer. \u201cWe are in search\nof the American yacht Stranger, who is reported to have been seized by\nescaped convicts and taken to sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is the vessel, sir, but I am glad to say that the convicts no\nlonger have control of her. They are safe under guard in the cabin. Step\nthis way, if you please.\u201d\n\nThe officer, lost in wonder, followed Frank into the cabin, and his\nastonishment increased when he saw the convicts seated in a row before\nhim, and all securely ironed. \u201cHow did you ever manage to do this,\ncaptain?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cIt was done before they knew what was going on,\u201d replied Frank.\n\n\u201cHow did you get the irons on Waters?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey were put on while he was asleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhile he was _asleep_!\u201d exclaimed the officer.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the gospel truth,\u201d said Waters. \u201cIt couldn\u2019t have been done no\nother way. The Yankees didn\u2019t give us no chance at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey probably knew you too well. My orders are to leave an officer and\ncrew in charge of the yacht, and to take the prisoners aboard our own\nvessel,\u201d added the lieutenant, turning to Frank.\n\n\u201cI protest against such a proceeding, sir,\u201d said the young captain,\nquickly. \u201cYour government has a claim upon these prisoners, but it has\nno claim whatever upon this yacht. With the crew I have, I am able to\ntake care of her myself.\u201d\n\nThe lieutenant drew himself up and looked at Frank without speaking.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XI.\n AN OBSTINATE CAPTAIN.\n\n\nFrank now began to see that he had been mistaken in the mental estimate\nhe had made of one of the two officers who came off in the steamer\u2019s\nboat. The midshipman, whose name was Kendall, as he afterwards learned,\nhe had put down as a conceited young prig, who would have made a\nfirst-rate companion for the consul\u2019s clerk; and his conduct a few\nminutes later gave Frank no reason to change his opinion. The\ngray-headed lieutenant he had supposed to be a gentleman, but on that\npoint he now began to have some doubts. The officer seemed to be greatly\nastonished at the audacity Frank exhibited in presuming to object to\nanything he might see fit to do. He drew himself up, and stared at the\nyoung captain in a way that was perfectly insulting, and made the latter\nall the more determined to stick to the course he had marked out for\nhimself.\n\n\u201cI am sailing-master of this craft,\u201d said Frank, \u201cand in the absence of\nmy superior have a right to command her.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer Majesty\u2019s officers are in the habit of obeying any orders they may\nreceive,\u201d returned the lieutenant, loftily.\n\n\u201cBut those orders were given to you under the supposition that the\nlawful crew of this vessel were in need of your assistance,\u201d replied\nFrank. \u201cWhen we passed you last night we should have been glad of your\nhelp; but now we are in a situation to take care of ourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did you not hail us when you passed us last night?\u201d asked the\nmidshipman.\n\n\u201cBecause Waters and his friends had full control of the schooner, and I\nhad no desire to be pitched overboard,\u201d answered Frank.\n\n\u201cIf you had been a brave young man, you would have done your duty at all\nhazards. But I do not wish to waste any more time in argument. Mr.\nKendall,\u201d said the lieutenant, turning to the midshipman, \u201cselect ten\nmen from that boat\u2019s crew, and remain in charge of the yacht. Follow in\nour wake when we steam away for Hobart Town.\u201d\n\nThe young officer saluted, and hurried up the ladder to obey these\norders, while the lieutenant turned to the prisoners, and commanded them\nto get up and go on deck. Frank followed them up the companion-way, and\nwhen he reached the top, was surprised to find Mr. Kendall and Archie\nengaged in an angry war of words. He had no trouble in guessing at the\ncause of it. He looked toward the stern, and saw Brown standing there\nwith the color halliards in his hand, and the colors themselves were\npartly hauled down.\n\n\u201cI want you to understand that I command this yacht now,\u201d said Mr.\nKendall, shaking his clenched hand at Archie.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t dispute it, do I?\u201d returned the latter.\n\n\u201cThen why do you countermand my orders?\u201d demanded the midshipman.\n\n\u201cBrown!\u201d exclaimed Frank, sharply, \u201crun that flag up to the peak where\nit belongs. Belay the halliards and go for\u2019ard.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d said Archie, turning to the officer; \u201cI hope you are satisfied\nnow that that flag was put there to stay.\u201d\n\n\u201cCaptain,\u201d said the midshipman, trying to speak calmly, although it was\nplain to be seen that he was very angry, \u201c_I_ ordered those colors\nhauled down.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is not a man in my crew who will obey an order of that kind,\u201d\nreplied Frank.\n\n\u201cBut I am in command now, and I don\u2019t sail under that flag.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right, sir. Haul it down yourself, if you wish to take the\nresponsibility.\u201d\n\nThe young officer knew better than to do that. He bit his lips and\nlooked towards his superior, who seemed to be utterly confounded by the\nturn affairs were taking. \u201cI call this a very extraordinary proceeding,\ncaptain,\u201d said he, at length.\n\n\u201cNot at all, sir,\u201d replied Frank. \u201cIf you regard our vessel as a prize\nand ourselves as prisoners, you have the power to act accordingly; but\nit will be useless to ask us to smooth the way for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d exclaimed the lieutenant, quickly; \u201cyou don\u2019t understand the\nmatter at all. We expected to find the convicts in charge of your yacht,\nand to have a fight with them before we could recover possession of\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour expectations were not realized,\u201d said Frank. \u201cWe saved you all\ntrouble.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps I had better return and ask further instructions from my\ncaptain,\u201d continued the officer, after thinking a moment. \u201cMr. Kendall,\nyou will remain in charge until you receive other orders.\u201d\n\nSo saying, the lieutenant ordered the convicts into his boat, jumped in\nhimself, and pushed off towards his own vessel, leaving a very\nunsociable company on board the schooner. During the half hour that\nfollowed not a word was exchanged between any of them, except by the two\ncousins. The midshipman planked the weather side of the quarter-deck in\nsolitary state; his men were gathered in a group on the forecastle; and\nthe crew of the Stranger stood in the waist, Frank and Archie leaning\nagainst the rail a little apart from the others, so that they could\nexchange opinions without being overheard. At the end of the half hour\nthe steamer\u2019s boat came in sight again, and when she had drawn up\nalongside, the coxswain handed a note to the midshipman. The contents,\nwhatever they were, evidently surprised and enraged the officer, who, in\na very gruff voice, ordered his men to tumble into the boat, then jumped\nin himself and shoved off without saying a word to Frank.\n\n\u201cDoes that mean that you are in command once more?\u201d asked Archie.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, but I\u2019ll take the risk,\u201d was the reply.\n\nAs soon as the midshipman\u2019s boat was clear of the side, the Stranger\nfilled away on her course and dashed across the bow of the steamer, her\nflag flaunting defiantly in the faces of the English blue jackets, who\nwatched her as she flew by. Neither of the cousins said a word until\nthey were safely out of hearing of the people on the steamer\u2019s deck, and\nthen Archie\u2019s patriotism bubbled over, and he struck up \u201cUnfurl the\nGlorious Banner,\u201d and sang it through to the end.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019d better haul it down now,\u201d said Frank, when the song was\nconcluded, \u201cor you\u2019ll not have any flag to rave about very long. The\nbreeze will whip it into ribbons in a few minutes more.\u201d\n\nIt was the Stranger\u2019s holiday flag, and they could not afford to lose\nit; so Archie pulled it down and packed it away in the signal-chest,\nhandling it as tenderly as though the flag could appreciate the care he\nbestowed upon it.\n\nAs soon as the steamer\u2019s boat was hoisted at the davits she turned her\nbow towards Hobart Town, and before night was out of sight in the\ndistance. When the sun set, Frank called up his crew to shorten sail. He\nknew nothing whatever about the coast he was approaching, and was afraid\nto get too close to it in the dark. He and Archie kept a bright lookout\nall that night, and as soon as day began to dawn all sail was hoisted\nagain, and the Stranger once more sped merrily on her way. The smoke of\na steamer was seen in the distance, but Frank did not take a second look\nat it until an hour or two afterwards, when Brown announced that it was\na tug, and that she was headed directly towards the schooner.\n\n\u201cShe ain\u2019t coming out to tow us in, sir,\u201d said the sailor, \u201c\u2019cause she\nknows that we don\u2019t want help with such a breeze as this. I shouldn\u2019t\nwonder if your friends were aboard of her, sir.\u201d\n\nAfter hearing this, Frank began to take some interest in the movements\nof the tug. He kept his glass directed toward her, and presently\ndiscovered a group of persons standing on her hurricane-deck. A quarter\nof an hour later he could see that they were signalling to him with\ntheir handkerchiefs; and finally the two vessels approached so near to\neach other that he could see the faces of those composing the group.\nThen he recognized Uncle Dick, his friend Mr. Wilbur, the two trappers,\nand the Club. They had probably learned from the captain of the steamer\nthat the Stranger was safe and approaching Hobart Town as swiftly as the\nbreeze could drive her, but they were so impatient to see her and their\nmissing companions once more that they could not wait until she arrived\nin port, and so had chartered a tug and started out to meet her. Frank\nand Archie were delighted at the prospect of the reunion which was soon\nto take place, but the three sailors looked rather gloomy over it. They\ncould not bear to meet the captain they had wronged.\n\nAs soon as the tug arrived abreast of the vessel she began to round to,\nand Frank threw the Stranger up into the wind to wait for her to come\nalongside. When her bow touched the schooner, the delighted members of\nthe Club scrambled over the rail like so many young pirates, and greeted\nthe cousins in the most boisterous manner. The older members of the\nparty followed more leisurely and were not quite so demonstrative,\nalthough it was plain that they were quite as glad to see Frank and\nArchie once more as the Club were.\n\nIn obedience to a sign from Uncle Dick the tug steamed off toward Hobart\nTown, the Stranger filled away on her course, and then the party went\ninto the cabin to talk over the events of the last few days. Frank first\ntold the story of the seizure of the schooner, as he had heard it from\nthe lips of the convict, and described how they had recovered possession\nof her, giving Archie all the credit for the exploit, as he was in duty\nbound to do. He laid a good deal of stress on the services rendered by\nthe Doctor, and said all he could in praise of the three foremast hands;\nbut when he proposed that they should be retained as if nothing had\nhappened, Uncle Dick shook his head.\n\n\u201cThat will hardly do, Frank,\u201d said he. \u201cAs far as I am concerned, I\nshould not hesitate to keep them and trust them as I did before; but we\nshould have no peace if I did. The rest of the men have threatened to\ntake vengeance on them, and every time their liberty was granted there\nwould be trouble, which would probably end in all the crew finding their\nway into the lockup. I think I had better discharge them.\u201d\n\nOf course that settled the matter. Frank was sorry, for he believed that\nthe three foremast hands were ready to make amends for their misconduct\nby every means in their power; but he saw the force of the captain\u2019s\nreasoning, and so he said no more about it.\n\nIn accordance with Frank\u2019s request, Uncle Dick then told how he had\nfirst discovered the loss of the schooner. He and his friend, Mr.\nWilbur, had returned from their ride about nine o\u2019clock, he said, and\nhad gone to bed believing that everything was just as it should be. He\nnever troubled himself about his vessel when he was ashore, for he knew\nthat his officers were able to take care of her.\n\nJust before daylight, the sailors whom Fowler had sent off on that\nwild-goose chase, came back, having been lost for hours in the bush.\nThey had found the station which Fowler had described to them, and were\nsurprised to learn that no arrangements for a race had ever been made\nthere. Believing that they were the victims of a practical joke they\nwere very indignant, and promised one another that they would square\nyards with the consul\u2019s clerk before another twenty-four hours had\npassed over their heads. They put their horses into the inclosure where\nthey found them, went down the bank to hail the schooner for a boat, and\nwere amazed to find that she was gone. Far from suspecting that there\nwas anything wrong, they believed that Uncle Dick had taken Mr. Wilbur\nand his family out for the excursion that had been so long talked of;\nand knowing that if this was the case, some of the herdsmen could tell\nthem all about it, they returned to the house and pounded loudly upon\nthe door. The summons was answered by Uncle Dick in person, and the\nbluejackets were as surprised to see him as he was to learn of the\ndiscovery they had just made. An investigation was ordered at once, and\nit resulted in the finding of the two officers and the rest of the crew,\nwhom the convicts had left bound and gagged in the bushes on the bank.\n\nUncle Dick did not wait to hear the whole of the story that Mr. Baldwin\nhad to tell; a very few words were enough to let him into the secret of\nthe matter. Accompanied by Mr. Wilbur he set out on horseback for Hobart\nTown, and the police commissioner being hunted up, the matter was\nexplained to him. That gentleman informed his visitors that there was no\nwar steamer nearer than Melbourne, but she should be sent for at once,\nand Uncle Dick might go home fully assured that his vessel would be\nreturned to him in a very few days, unless she was burnt or sunk by her\nconvict crew before the man-of-war could come up with her. Uncle Dick,\nhowever, did not go home, and neither did Mr. Wilbur. They both remained\nat Hobart Town and boarded every vessel that came in, to inquire if\nanything had been seen of the Stranger; but they could gain no tidings\nof her, and Uncle Dick began to be seriously alarmed. He did not fear\nfor the safety of his vessel\u2014he scarcely thought of her\u2014but he did fear\nfor Frank and his cousin. He remembered what had transpired shortly\nafter Waters and his three friends were rescued from the breakers, and\nhe knew that they had two objects in view when they captured the vessel.\nOne was to regain their liberty, and the other was to make themselves\nrich by stealing the contents of the strong box. They might succeed in\nregaining their liberty, if they could elude the war-vessel that had\ngone in pursuit of them, but they would never make themselves rich as\nthey hoped. There were not more than twenty-five pounds in the safe.\nWhen the Stranger was hauled into the dry-docks, Walter had deposited\nevery cent of the vessel\u2019s funds in the bank; and all there was in the\nstrong box now was a little of his own and Eugene\u2019s pocket-money, which\nthey had put in there for safe keeping. Uncle Dick did not like to think\nwhat would happen when Waters discovered this fact. Beyond a doubt he\nwould be very angry, and if he acted as he had done on a former\noccasion, when he allowed his rage to get the better of him, what would\nbecome of Frank and his cousin?\n\n\u201cWhile I was worrying about that it never occurred to me that _you_ were\nman enough to take care of him,\u201d added Uncle Dick, nodding to Archie.\n\n\u201cI declare it beats anything I ever heard of,\u201d said Featherweight. \u201cI\ndidn\u2019t know you had so much pluck.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you had seen me while I was doing it and after it was done, you\nwouldn\u2019t give me so much credit,\u201d replied Archie. \u201cI don\u2019t think I was\never before so badly frightened.\u201d\n\nUncle Dick then went on to say that the war-steamer had returned to\nHobart Town about ten o\u2019clock on the morning of the previous day. He and\nMr. Wilbur boarded her as soon as she touched the quay, and sought an\ninterview with her commander, who put all their fears at rest by telling\nthem that he had the convicts safe under guard, and that he had left the\nStranger in the hands of those who seemed fully competent to take care\nof her. Uncle Dick was astonished beyond measure to learn how completely\nthe boys had turned the tables upon their captors, and could hardly\nbelieve it until he was told that Waters himself had confirmed the\nstory. The English commander further stated that he would have brought\nthe yacht into port under convoy, had it not been for the obstinacy of\nher captain. Frank having hoisted his colors would not take them down,\nand as he had no right to do it, and his officers could not be expected\nto sail under a foreign flag, he had left the Stranger to take care of\nherself. Uncle Dick laughed when he came to this part of his story, and\nFrank knew by the stinging slap he received on the back that he had done\njust as the old sailor himself would have done under the same\ncircumstances.\n\nThe schooner sailed into port about three o\u2019clock that afternoon, and as\nsoon as she was made fast to the quay, the three foremast hands were\ncalled into the cabin and paid off. Uncle Dick gave the same reasons for\ndischarging them that he had given Frank, and the sailors accepted the\nsituation without a word of complaint. They took a sorrowful leave of\nthe captain and each of the Club, and the boys never saw them again\nafter they went over the side with their bags and hammocks.\n\nWhen the tide turned the Stranger left the harbor again, Uncle Dick on\nthe quarter-deck and the Club acting as the crew, and in a few hours\ndropped anchor in her old berth near Mr. Wilbur\u2019s house. The sailors and\nthe herdsmen, who had gathered in a body on the bank to see her come in,\ngreeted her with cheers, and when the cutter went ashore with Uncle Dick\nand the rest, the blue jackets crowded into it with an eagerness that\ndid not escape the notice of their officers. They expected to find Brown\nand his two companions on board the schooner, and if they had found them\nthere, it is probable that there would have been trouble directly. When\nthey learned from the Doctor that the three men had been discharged at\nHobart Town, a select party of six, among whom were Lucas and Barton,\nwas appointed to go to the city, hunt them up, and give them a vigorous\ntrouncing. But this fine scheme was defeated at the outset, for when the\nselected six went aft with their caps in their hands to ask their\nliberty, Mr. Baldwin informed them that not a man would be allowed to\nleave the vessel. The disappointed blue jackets growled lustily among\nthemselves, but that did not help the matter.\n\nThe next day Mr. Wilbur and his family came aboard, the sails were\nhoisted, and the Stranger sailed away with them. They spent a week in\ncruising along the coast, stopping at various points of interest, and\nthen returned to their old anchorage. After that more provisions and\nwater were hoisted in, three American sailors, whom Uncle Dick found\nstranded at Hobart Town, were shipped to supply the places of those who\nhad been discharged, and the schooner began her voyage to Natal.\n\nThis proved to be the pleasantest part of their trip around the world,\nso far as the weather was concerned. The topsails were spread at the\nstart, and were scarcely touched until the shores of Africa were in\nsight. Of course the voyage was monotonous, for books were scarce, and\nalmost every topic of conversation had been worn threadbare. The plans\nthey had laid for their campaign in Africa had been discussed until they\nwere heartily tired of them, and it was only when Uncle Dick could be\nprevailed upon to relate some of the adventures that had befallen him\nduring the three years he had spent in the wilds of that almost unknown\ncountry, that the boys exhibited any interest at all. The welcome cry\n\u201cLand, ho!\u201d from the masthead aroused them, and sent them up to the\ncrosstrees with their field-glasses in their hands. They were all\nimpatient to get ashore\u2014all except the two trappers. The latter seemed\nto have forgotten the most of their old fears by this time, and to be\nquite as much at home in the forecastle as they were in the mountains\nand on the prairie. They had come to realize that they were in no danger\nof falling off among the clouds when they reached the under side of the\nearth, and were fully convinced that the phantom ship, the Flying\nDutchman, the whale that swallowed Jonah, and the monstrous \u201cquids\u201d\nwhich had so excited their terror, had no existence except in the brains\nof the foremast hands; but they knew that there were such things as\nelephants, lions, and tigers, for they had heard Uncle Dick and Frank\nsay so. They did not care to meet any of these monsters, and they\napproached the coast with fear and trembling. Perhaps if the Club had\nknown just what was in store for them, they also would have felt a\nlittle less enthusiasm.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XII.\n BUYING AN OUTFIT.\n\n\nOn the afternoon of the same day that land was discovered from the\nmasthead, the Stranger sailed into the port of Natal. As soon as the\nanchor was dropped the gig was called away, and Uncle Dick was rowed\nashore, where he remained so long that the boys began to grow impatient\nand uneasy; but finally, to their great relief, they saw him coming back\nagain, and they saw, too, that there was a trunk in the bow of the boat,\nand that a stranger was seated in the stern-sheets beside Uncle Dick\u2014a\ntall, gray-headed man, with a weather-beaten face and mutton-chop\nwhiskers. While they were wondering who he could be, the boat came\nalongside, and Uncle Dick and his companion sprang on board. \u201cMr.\nBaldwin,\u201d said the captain, \u201chave this trunk taken into the forecastle,\nand give this man a bunk there. Then get under way at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnder way,\u201d repeated Walter. \u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing at all,\u201d was the reply. \u201cCome down into the cabin, and I will\ntell you what I have done since I went ashore.\u201d\n\nThe boys followed, lost in wonder. The order to get under way, when they\nhad fully expected that the schooner would remain at her present\nanchorage for six or eight months, surprised them greatly; but the\ncaptain explained it in a few words.\n\n\u201cWhile I was ashore I had the good fortune to meet an English colonel\nwho has just returned from a hunting trip in the interior,\u201d said he. \u201cHe\nhas an outfit that he wants to sell, having no further use for it, and\nwhich is just the thing we want\u2014a span of oxen, a wagon, a dozen\n\u2018salted\u2019 horses, and a whole armory of double-barrelled rifles. If they\nsuit us we will buy them all in a lump, and that will save us two or\nthree weeks\u2019 time.\u201d\n\nThe boys had read enough to know that a \u201cspan\u201d of oxen was six yoke, and\nthat a \u201csalted\u201d horse was an animal which had had the distemper and been\ncured of it. Such horses were hard to find, and it sometimes required\nconsiderable urging, and the display of a good deal of money, to induce\ntheir owners to part with them after they were found, for they were\nconsidered to be proof against the diseases which were so prevalent in\nthe interior. Many a sportsman had the boys read of, who, when a\nthousand miles from the coast and in the midst of a fine hunting\ncountry, had suddenly found himself without a nag to ride, all his\nanimals having been carried off by the distemper. Had he taken the\nprecaution to purchase \u201csalted\u201d horses, he would not have been in so\nmuch danger of being placed in this disagreeable situation. True, the\nlions might kill his stock, or it might die for want of water; but these\nwere perils that could oftentimes be averted by a little extra care and\nforethought.\n\n\u201cThis outfit is at Grahamstown,\u201d continued Uncle Dick, \u201cand we are going\ndown to take a look at it. This man I brought off with me is a\nScotchman, named McGregor. He used to be a transport-rider.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is a transport-rider, and where is Grahamstown?\u201d asked Eugene.\n\n\u201cGrahamstown is a few miles farther down the coast, and the point from\nwhich the most of the trading expeditions start for the interior. It is\nto Cape Colony what St. Joe and Independence used to be to our own\ncountry. A transport-rider is a teamster, who makes a business of\ncarrying goods from one settlement to another. This man, McGregor, made\na little money in that way, then went to trading and lost his last cent.\nIt wouldn\u2019t surprise me much if we should sink all the capital we put\ninto the business, either,\u201d said Uncle Dick, with a cheerful wink at the\nClub.\n\n\u201cHow did he lose his money?\u201d asked George.\n\n\u201cHe lost the cattle he received in exchange for his merchandise,\u201d\nanswered Uncle Dick. \u201cOne drove died of thirst while crossing the\ndesert, and the other was stolen by the natives, who came very near\nmaking an end of McGregor at the same time.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy do you think you will lose your money?\u201d asked Walter.\n\n\u201cOh, because there\u2019s trouble brewing between the Dutch farmers, who are\ncalled Boers, and their sworn enemies, the Griquas; and when they get at\nswords\u2019 points, as they do about twice every year, they make it very\nunpleasant for travellers, and especially for traders. They are so\ncowardly that they seldom come to blows, but if they catch a stranger in\ntheir country, he is almost sure to suffer. Each side is afraid that he\nwill lend aid and comfort to the other, and consequently both treat him\nas an enemy. If he passes through the country of the Griquas, they\nthink, or pretend to think, that he has been selling munitions of war to\nthe Boers, and straightway rob him of all he has; and if the Boers find\nany extra guns in his wagon, or more powder than the law allows, they\naccuse him of selling contraband articles to their enemies, and\nconfiscate what he has left. We have come at the wrong time, and in that\nrespect we are unfortunate. In other ways I think we are very lucky. We\nare lucky in finding this outfit, and in securing the services of\nMcGregor. He knows the country thoroughly, and is capable of acting as\ninterpreter. Having been a trader, he is experienced, and so we will\ngive the management of our expedition entirely into his hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo we\u2019re bound to be fleeced by one side or the other, are we?\u201d said\nWalter.\n\n\u201cIt looks that way now. Shall we give up the journey and go home?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir!\u201d cried all the boys at once.\n\n\u201cWe have come so far around the world on purpose to see something of\nlife in Africa,\u201d exclaimed Eugene. \u201cIt was in our minds when we started,\nand we have abandoned other plans we have laid in order that we might\ncarry out this part of our programme. It would be a pretty thing now if\nwe should be frightened away by a few s and Dutchmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cHear! hear!\u201d cried the rest of the Club.\n\n\u201cAll right. We\u2019ll go on,\u201d said Uncle Dick.\n\nAnd they did go on. They reached Grahamstown early the next morning, and\nMcGregor (the boys had become familiar enough with him by this time to\ncall him \u201cMack\u201d) struck a bargain with the English colonel\u2019s agent in\nless than an hour after he got ashore. The outfit he purchased comprised\neverything our travellers could possibly need during their journey\nexcept provisions, merchandise, and ammunition. It comprised a good many\nthings, too, for which they did not think they should find any use, and\nsome which they thought were entirely unnecessary, such as camp-stools,\neasy-chairs, mattresses, and a carpet to cover the floor of the tent in\nwhich the colonel and his companions had lived like princes. The boys\nlaughed when they saw these things, and told one another that no one but\na very wealthy man could be a hunter if English notions were carried\nout. They had spent months on the prairie with no more luggage than they\ncould carry on their backs, and they had lived well, too, and enjoyed\nthemselves.\n\n\u201cThe colonel ought to have had just one more thing, and then he would\nhave been very comfortably fixed,\u201d said Archie; \u201cthat is a bath-tub.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust look here!\u201d cried Frank, as he drew one of the double-barrelled\nrifles from its holster. \u201cThere\u2019s no one in our party who can use this\nweapon. It was made for a giant.\u201d\n\nIt was an elephant gun, the first the boys had ever seen, and it was a\ngreat curiosity to them. It was so heavy that when Frank raised it to\nhis shoulders and glanced along the barrels, it required the outlay of\nall his strength to hold it steady. His little Maynard, which weighed\njust eight pounds and was warranted to throw a ball a thousand yards,\nwould have looked like a pop-gun beside it.\n\nThe guns were not the only things in their new outfit that the boys\nfound to wonder at. The wagon, and the oxen that were to draw it during\na four or five months\u2019 journey, if they should be fortunate enough to\nescape the lions so long, demanded a good share of their attention. The\nwagon was a huge, clumsy-looking affair\u2014the largest thing the boys had\never seen mounted on wheels. It was eighteen feet long, four feet wide,\nand looked heavy enough to tax the strength of the oxen even when there\nwas nothing in it. It was provided with a cover, like the wagon in which\nFrank and his cousin made their first journey across the plains, but it\nwas not made of canvas. It was made of green boughs fastened together\nwith strips of rawhide. It was furnished with two water-tanks, four\nboxes in which to carry tools and clothing, and there was still space\nenough left in the body of the wagon to accommodate an ample supply of\nprovisions, and also a good-sized cargo of merchandise.\n\nThe oxen that were to draw this unwieldy vehicle were tall, gaunt,\nwiry-looking beasts, with wide-spreading horns. They reminded the\ncousins of the half-wild cattle they had seen in their uncle\u2019s ranche in\nCalifornia.\n\nThe horses too needed a good looking over. At first glance they were\nanything but pleased with them, and they expressed great astonishment\nthat the English colonel, who had spent money so lavishly on other\nportions of his outfit, should have been content with such sorry-looking\nbeasts. There were but two handsome ones in the lot. The rest, to quote\nfrom Archie, looked like the \u201cbreaking up of a hard winter,\u201d and the\nsight of them made the boys wish for the sleek, well-conditioned riding\nnags they had left at home. But they proved themselves capable of good\nservice, and after two of them, the homeliest and most vicious horses in\nthe group, had carried their riders safely through an ambuscade, as they\ndid a few weeks later, nothing more was said about their looks.\n\nThis part of their outfit having been purchased, the next thing was to\nlay in a supply of provisions and ammunition, and also a stock of goods\nsuitable for barter. Here Mack proved himself to be an invaluable\nassistant. He knew just what to take and what to leave behind, and he\nshowed as much skill in loading the wagon as any sailor would have\nshowed in stowing away the cargo of his vessel. The boys were as\nsurprised at the quantity of goods he put into it as they were at the\ngreat variety of articles he selected. For the Boers, with whom Uncle\nDick intended to trade for cattle, he had everything, from a piece of\nthread with which to mend a harness, to a gaudy handkerchief for the\nfraus to tie around their necks. For the Griquas he laid in a supply of\nbeads, brass and copper wire, and cheap smooth-bore guns, all of which\nwere to be exchanged for ivory.\n\nWhile Mack was employed in this way the rest of the party were not idle.\nThe horses and guns were to be distributed, and there were servants to\nbe engaged. We have said that there were two desirable animals among the\nhorses, and there were also among the weapons some light handy pieces,\nwhich the boys would have selected in preference to any of the others.\nOf course all could not be exactly suited, and in order to give every\none a fair opportunity to secure the best, it was decided to dispose of\nthe horses and guns by lot. The colonel\u2019s own riding mare and his\nfavorite double-barrel, both of which were pointed out by the agent of\nwhom the outfit was purchased, were first set aside for Uncle Dick.\nThose that were left were then numbered, and corresponding numbers being\nplaced in Walter Gaylord\u2019s hat, each boy drew out one, and became\ntemporary owner of the steed and the rifle whose number agreed with his\nown. Frank drew number three; and on hunting up his property, found that\nthe charger which bore that number on a card tied to his foretop, was a\nlong-legged, raw-boned animal, and the most vicious one in the whole\ndrove. He welcomed his new master by laying back his ears and making a\nsavage bite at his hand. When he came to examine the weapons, he found\nthat number three rifle was the mass of wood and iron which he had\ndeclared to be heavy enough for a giant. He had the worst luck of all;\nand the boys laughed heartily at the wry faces he made, and more\nheartily still at the antics of Archie Winters, who paraded past his\ncousin mounted on a high-stepping thoroughbred, and carrying a handsome\nsilver-mounted rifle, both of which had fallen to his lot.\n\n\u201cNow here\u2019s what I call a horse,\u201d cried Archie, patting the sleek neck\nof the animal he bestrode. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t look much like your old crowbait,\ndoes he? I say, Frank, I don\u2019t believe I\u2019d go, if I were in your place.\nYou can\u2019t possibly keep up with us, and neither can you shoot anything;\nfor it will take so long to raise that killdeer to your shoulder, that\nall the game within range will have plenty of time to get safely out of\nsight. Here\u2019s a rifle, if you want to look at one. Just lift it, and see\nhow nicely it is balanced.\u201d\n\nBut Frank said he didn\u2019t care to examine it\u2014he was very well satisfied\nwith his own. He took charge of his property in a quiet, indifferent\nsort of way, that had a volume of meaning in it. He resolved that his\n\u201ccrowbait\u201d and \u201ckilldeer\u201d should become famous before the journey was\nended.\n\nThe servants, of whom Uncle Dick was in search, were soon forthcoming in\nthe shape of four stalwart Kaffirs, who had accompanied English\nsportsmen on expeditions similar to this, and understood the duties\nrequired of them; but the sequel proved that they were lacking in some\nvery necessary qualities. The letter of recommendation that one of them\nproudly presented to Uncle Dick would have applied to them all. It was\nfrom his last employer, and read as follows:\n\n\u201cThis man is a good cook, but he is a fearful twister of the truth, and\na most expert thief. Take him, if you like a good cup of coffee in the\nmorning, but never take your eyes from him; if you do, he will be\nmissing some fine day, and so will your best horse and gun.\u201d\n\nUncle Dick engaged the Kaffir, but took care to post the boys, and his\nhead man, Mack, in order that they might keep watch of him.\n\nAt last Mack announced that all the arrangements had been made, and he\nwas ready to \u201ctrek\u201d\u2014that is, to begin the journey. This was followed by\nan order from Uncle Dick to \u201cinspan\u201d (oxen are not \u201cyoked\u201d or \u201cunyoked\u201d\nin Africa\u2014they are \u201cinspanned\u201d and \u201coutspanned\u201d), and that occupied the\nbest part of the forenoon. In the first place the oxen had to be brought\nin from the neighboring hills, where they had been driven to graze, and,\nof course, some of them had strayed away, and had to be hunted up, while\nothers, preferring the freedom of the pasture to labor under the yoke,\ndidn\u2019t want to be driven to camp. The training Frank and Archie had\nreceived while living in California came into play here, and the latter\nshowed that he had not yet lost his skill with the lasso, by capturing\nan obstinate brute which had repeatedly dodged Eugene and Featherweight,\nand seemed determined to follow every road except the one that led\ntoward the wagon. When the oxen were brought in they were surrounded to\nkeep them from running away again, and after a good deal of breath had\nbeen expended in shouting and scolding, and a bushel or two of stones\nhad been thrown, and the hair had been cut from some of the most unruly\nones by the heavy whip which Mack handled as if it had been a feather,\nthe inspanning was completed and the journey begun. The wagon went\nfirst, driven by Mack; behind it followed half a dozen cows, twice as\nmany goats, and three loose horses; while the boys and the trappers\nbrought up the rear, and rode on the flanks of the train to keep these\nextra animals from straying away. The cows and goats were expected to\nfurnish the travellers with milk until they reached the Griqua country,\nwhen they were to be exchanged for ivory. The horses were to mount any\nmember of the party who might be so unfortunate as to injure or lose his\nown nag.\n\nDuring the first six weeks nothing happened that is of sufficient\ninterest to be recorded here. The weather for the most part was\npleasant, the roads much better than they had expected to find them, and\nMack often declared that they were making wonderful headway. Nothing had\nyet been done in the way of trading, for they were too close to the\nsettlements. Mack was gradually drawing away from the travelled routes,\nin order to reach a colony of Boers who had located their farms on the\nvery borders of the Griqua country. Cattle were plenty and cheap there,\nand consequently good bargains could be made. The country through which\nthey were travelling showed some few signs of civilization. Once or\ntwice each week they met a transport rider, and about as often they\nwould encounter a few Boers going to or returning from some remote\nsettlement. About as often, too, they would make their camp near the\nhouse of some farmer, who in the evening would come over and drink tea\nwith Uncle Dick. All these Boers talked of was the impending war with\nthe natives, and every one of them urged Uncle Dick to turn aside and\ngive the Griqua country a wide berth.\n\nThe boys often told one another that if any people in the world ought to\nbe supremely happy it was these same Boers. They owned or controlled\nimmense farms on which horses and cattle, which constituted their sole\nwealth, were raised with scarcely any trouble at all; their tables were\nabundantly supplied; they seemed to possess everything in the way of\nhousehold comforts that any people with their simple habits could ask\nfor; and they lived in the midst of a hunting country which far\nsurpassed anything the boys had ever dreamed of. One of these Boers\ncould get up any morning in the week, take his old \u201croer\u201d down from the\npegs at the head of his bed, and knock over an eland or a springbok for\nbreakfast, and that too without going any farther than the threshold of\nhis own door. There were antelopes, large and small, zebras, quaggas,\nand buffaloes without number. Time and again had the boys been awakened\nfrom their morning nap by the clatter of countless hoofs, and hurried\nout of their tents to find the plain covered with these animals as far\nas their eyes could reach. Such sights drove the trappers almost wild\nwith excitement. They reminded them of the glorious sport they had\nenjoyed among the noble game of their own country, the buffaloes, which,\nlike the class of men to which Dick and Bob belonged, are fast becoming\nextinct. Of course the boys had ample opportunity to try the speed of\ntheir horses and the accuracy of their new weapons. The wagon did not\nhalt a single day to give them a chance to hunt, for theirs was a\ntrading, not a hunting expedition; but they scoured the country for\nmiles on each side of the route, and already large quantities of\nsomething which Mack called \u201cbell-tongue,\u201d but which the boys called\n\u201cjerked meat,\u201d was packed away in the wagon for use in the days when\ngame was not quite so plenty.\n\nThe place where this good hunting was found was in the uninhabited\nregion lying between the borders of the colony and the remote Dutch\nsettlement toward which Mack was directing his course. As they\napproached the opposite side of it, the game decreased in numbers, until\nfinally an exceedingly wild springbok would be the only animal the boys\ncould find in a day\u2019s hard riding. This was a sign that the settlement\nwas near at hand. Their trading begun now, and trouble followed close on\nthe heels of it.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIII.\n A SURLY BOER.\n\n\nThe \u201csettlement\u201d that Mack was so anxious to reach proved to be no\nsettlement at all, as the boys understood the meaning of the word. It\nwas simply a collection of a dozen or more families who were scattered\nover an immense country, the nearest neighbors living three days\u2019\njourney from each other. They arrived at the first farmhouse one bright\nafternoon, and the sight of the cattle feeding about it delighted Mack,\nwho declared that he would not inspan again until he had traded for a\ndozen or fifteen of the best of them; but the reception they met from\nthe farmer himself, made the boys a little doubtful on that point. They\nhad seen enough of the Boers by this time to learn something of their\ncustoms. One of these customs was, that every traveller must be\ncordially greeted at the door, presented to each member of the family in\nturn, and invited to dinner; and this farmer was the first one who\nneglected this ceremony. When the wagon drew up in front of the house he\nstood in the door with his long pipe in his hand, but he made no move to\nwelcome them, although Mack greeted him as an old acquaintance.\n\n\u201cWell, Mynheer Schrader,\u201d exclaimed the driver, as he jumped off his\nwagon, \u201cI am glad to see you again. Where shall I outspan, and where\nshall the oxen be driven to graze?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is a fountain five miles further on,\u201d replied the Boer in broken\nEnglish.\n\n\u201cBut I intend to stop here,\u201d replied Mack. \u201cYou have some fine cattle,\nand I have the best stock of goods ever brought out by a trader\u2014ribbons,\nand tea and coffee for the women, cloth to make clothes for the\nchildren, and perhaps something for Mynheer himself. Where shall I\noffload?\u201d\n\n\u201cI want nothing,\u201d growled the Boer.\n\n\u201cOh, it\u2019s no trouble at all,\u201d insisted Mack. \u201cIt\u2019s my business to show\ngoods. That\u2019s what I am hired for.\u201d\n\nMack looked around to select a place for the camp, and discovering a\nlittle grove at a short distance from the house, he drove the wagon\nthere and proceeded to outspan, just as he would have done if the Boer\nhad given him the most cordial welcome. As soon as the oxen were freed\nfrom their yokes one of the Kaffirs drove them away to graze, and Mack\nproceeded to make a display of his goods.\n\n\u201cAre you going to unload?\u201d asked Walter. \u201cThat Boer says he doesn\u2019t want\nanything.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, he don\u2019t know whether he does or not,\u201d replied Mack. \u201cThat\u2019s what\nthey all say at first, only they generally say it in a more friendly\nmanner. Wait till the women see what I have to show them, and perhaps he\nwill change his mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s a surly old rascal,\u201d said Eugene.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d answered Mack. \u201cI don\u2019t much like the way he welcomed us.\nWe must make a friend of him if we can, for he\u2019s a field cornet.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d\n\n\u201cA sort of magistrate. He\u2019s a big man here, and the other farmers will\nbe likely to do just as he does. If he treats us well and trades with\nus, the others will do the same; but if he holds off and acts sulky, we\nmight as well pack up and go on to the Griquas, for we shall get no\ncattle.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you suppose makes him act so?\u201d asked Bob. \u201cThe others have all\nseemed glad to see us.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, he knows that we want ivory as well as cattle, and he is afraid\nwe\u2019ll sell guns and powder to the natives. He may take it into his\nstupid head to tell us that we mustn\u2019t go any farther.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will we do in that case?\u201d\n\n\u201cPay no attention to him. He can\u2019t raise men enough in the settlement to\nturn us back\u2014our twelve men would make a pretty good show drawn up in\nline\u2014and before he can send off for help, we\u2019ll be miles in the Griqua\ncountry, where he dare not follow us. I don\u2019t much like that move\neither.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat move?\u201d asked Archie.\n\nMack bobbed his head toward the house by way of reply. The boys looked\nand saw a young Boer, who they afterward learned was the son of the\nowner of the farm, sitting on his horse listening to some instructions\nfrom his father. The old man was excited, if one might judge by the way\nhe paced back and forth in front of his house and swung his arms about\nhis head. When he had finished his speech the young Boer rode off\nposthaste.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t like that move,\u201d repeated Mack. \u201cI don\u2019t know whether the old\nchap wants help, or whether he is sending word to the other farmers that\nthey mustn\u2019t trade with us. It is one or the other. If he doesn\u2019t change\nhis tactics pretty soon, I\u2019ll put all the things back in the wagon and\nto-morrow we\u2019ll trek again.\u201d\n\nWhile Mack was unloading his goods and spreading them out on the ground\nso that they could be inspected by the Boer and his family, if they\nshould choose to look at them, the boys busied themselves in unsaddling\nthe horses, pitching the tents, and making other preparations for the\nnight. They stopped to look at the retreating figure of the young Boer\noccasionally, and told one another that his mission, whatever it was,\nmust be one of importance, for he kept his horse on the run as long as\nhe remained in sight. Presently a party of s, some on foot and\nothers on horseback, rode into camp. The boys, who had by this time\nlearned to look upon these visits as petty annoyances that could not be\nescaped (the natives were great beggars and thieves), did not take a\nsecond look at these newcomers, until they heard Mack say that they were\nZulus and Griquas. He knew the members of all the tribes and could tell\nthem as far as he could see them, just as Dick and Bob could tell a\nSioux Indian or a Comanche.\n\n\u201cGriquas!\u201d repeated George. \u201cThere\u2019ll be a row here now, I suppose.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho\u2019ll raise it?\u201d asked Mack.\n\n\u201cWhy, that Boer over there,\u201d said Frank. \u201cI should think the natives\nwould have better sense than to go prowling about through an enemy\u2019s\ncountry.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that\u2019s nothing,\u201d returned Mack. \u201cThey haven\u2019t come to blows yet.\nThey are only threatening each other.\u201d\n\nAs the boys expected to see a good deal of the Griquas before their\njourney was ended, they looked at their visitors with a good deal of\ninterest. Unlike the majority of the natives they had thus far seen,\nthese were dressed as well as a good many of the Boers with whom they\nhad come in contact, only their clothes were made of leather, and\ninstead of hats they wore gaudy handkerchiefs tied around their heads,\nafter the fashion of some of the s in our Southern States. They\nrode sorry-looking beasts, and each of them carried a cheap smooth-bore\nrifle on his shoulder, and an immense powderhorn under his arm. They\nwere a ruffianly looking set, and the boys thought that the efforts of\nthe missionaries, who had lived among them so many years, had not\namounted to much. They had been taught to wear clothing and to use\nfirearms, and that was as far as the white man\u2019s influence had had any\neffect on them. Their companions, the Zulus, were a still harder lot.\nThey looked and acted like genuine savages. They were on foot, and their\nweapons consisted principally of spears and war-clubs.\n\n\u201cThey\u2019re the lads that own the ivory,\u201d said Mack. \u201cIf you should go to\ntheir country you\u2019d see elephants by the drove, and have no trouble at\nall in filling this wagon with their teeth.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, why can we not go there?\u201d asked Eugene. \u201cIf the Boers will not\ntrade with us\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I wouldn\u2019t go to the Zulu country for all the money the wagon could\nhold,\u201d interrupted Mack, quickly. \u201cThere is no water in the desert, and\nthe wild bushmen are thicker than blackberries.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd they shoot poisoned arrows,\u201d said Walter.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s what\u2019s the matter,\u201d exclaimed Mack. \u201cI\u2019d sooner face a bullet\nthan one of those arrows.\u201d\n\n\u201cMack!\u201d shouted Uncle Dick, from his place under the fly of the tent\nwhere he was lying at his ease, with his hands under his head, and his\nbig meerschaum in his mouth, \u201cask this fellow what he wants. I\u2019ve\nforgotten all my Dutch.\u201d\n\nUncle Dick was surrounded by his visitors, one of whom was holding his\ngun in one hand and making motions around the lock with the other, as if\nhe were trying to explain something about it. When Mack inquired into\nthe matter the Griquas at once gathered about him, and for a few minutes\nan animated discussion was carried on. The conversation was principally\nby signs, as it seemed to the boys, for they could not understand how\nany one could make sense out of words which sounded almost exactly like\nthe grunting of pigs.\n\n\u201cHis gun is out of order, sir, and he wants somebody to fix it,\u201d said\nMack. \u201cThe notch is worn smooth, and the hammer won\u2019t stay back.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, tell him that I don\u2019t keep a travelling gun-shop,\u201d replied the\nold sailor.\n\n\u201cLet me see it,\u201d said Frank, extending his hand for the gun, which the\nnative promptly surrendered to him.\n\n\u201cLook out there, my boy,\u201d exclaimed Uncle Dick, \u201cor my first customer\nwill be one of my own party.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I\u2019ll tell you what\u2019s a fact. What do you mean by that?\u201d asked Perk.\n\n\u201cI mean that if you break that gun among you in trying to fix it, you\nwill have to buy a new one of me to replace it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy the weapon is useless now,\u201d said Frank, bending back the hammer,\nwhich instantly fell down upon the tube when he released it. \u201cEven if I\nshould break it, it couldn\u2019t be in any worse condition than it is now.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter. You\u2019ve got a rogue to deal with, and he wouldn\u2019t ask any\nbetter fun than to make you give him a new gun for his wornout piece.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I wouldn\u2019t do it,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cThen in two or three days we should have a band of Griqua warriors down\nhere to ask what\u2019s the reason,\u201d returned Uncle Dick.\n\n\u201cWhew!\u201d whistled Frank. \u201cIf that\u2019s the kind of scrape I am likely to get\ninto by being accommodating, I\u2019ll go no further. Here Mr.\u2014Mr.\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cJones,\u201d suggested Archie.\n\n\u201cHere, Jones, take your old gun. I can\u2019t do anything with it.\u201d\n\nHe handed the weapon to the owner as he spoke, but to his great surprise\nthe native backed away, put his hands behind his back and refused to\nreceive it. He shook his head vehemently and gabbled loudly in Dutch, at\nthe same time appealing to his companions, who nodded their approval.\n\n\u201cWhat does he say, Mack?\u201d asked Bob.\n\n\u201cHe says that the Englishman must fix it, now that he has begun it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t begun it, and I\u2019m not an Englishman either,\u201d exclaimed Frank.\n\n\u201cNo matter. That\u2019s what he and his friends say,\u201d was Mack\u2019s laughing\nresponse.\n\n\u201cOffer it to him again, and if he doesn\u2019t take it knock him down with\nit,\u201d suggested Eugene.\n\nFor a second or two it seemed as if Frank thought it would be a good\nplan to follow this advice. He was quite willing to undertake the task\nof repairing the weapon as an act of kindness, but his blood rose when\nhe saw that an effort was being made to compel him to do so. The sight\nof the comical monkey-like face which the native turned upon him,\nhowever, was too much for his anger. It disappeared almost immediately,\nand breaking into a laugh Frank turned to the wagon to hunt up a file\nand screw-driver, followed by the Griquas, who watched all his movements\nwith the keenest interest. Seating himself on the ground, he removed the\nlock, took out the tumbler, deepened the smoothly worn notch by a few\npasses of the file, and then put it back again just as it was before.\nThe work was done in five minutes, and to show the native that it was\nwell done, he took a cap from his own box, put it on the tube and pulled\nthe trigger. The cap snapped, and the native with a grunt of\nsatisfaction seized his gun and walked off, surrounded with his\ndelighted friends. Frank put his hands into his pockets and stood\nlooking after him. \u201cYou didn\u2019t expect him to thank you, did you?\u201d asked\nUncle Dick.\n\n\u201cN-no, sir; but I didn\u2019t expect him to grab the gun as though he thought\nI was going to steal it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe next time you do a job of that kind throw in a kick, too,\u201d said\nEugene.\n\n\u201cThe next time I won\u2019t touch the gun in the first place,\u201d replied Frank.\n\u201cHallo!\u201d\n\nHe looked up just then and saw the surly farmer standing near the wagon\nenveloped in a cloud of smoke. Now and then the breeze would carry it\naway for an instant, and Frank could see that he was scowling fiercely.\n\n\u201cAh! Mynheer Schrader,\u201d exclaimed Mack, cheerfully, \u201cyou have come out\nat last to look at my fine goods. Why didn\u2019t you bring the frau along?\u201d\n\n\u201cI wants nothing,\u201d growled the Boer.\n\n\u201cNow, Mynheer Schrader,\u201d said Mack, in his most winning tones, \u201cwhen you\nsee all the fine goods I have brought out here on purpose to\u2014\u201d\n\nThe Scotchman was as persistent as a book agent, but he had met his\nmatch in the obstinate Boer, who declared that he didn\u2019t want anything,\nand neither would he look at anything. Mack might as well put his fine\ngoods back into his wagon, and go his way, for not an ox could he buy of\nhim. A long and animated conversation followed. As it was carried on in\nDutch, the boys could not, of course, understand a single word of it,\nbut they could easily see that the farmer was angry, and that he was\ntaking Mack to task for something. Whether he had any advantage of their\nman, the boys could not quite decide. They rather thought not; for when\nMack became fairly aroused he talked as fast as the others did, and\nslapped his hands and shouted so loudly that he might have been heard\nfor half a mile. The Griquas listened intently, and did not hesitate to\nput in a word, and sometimes a good many of them, whenever an\nopportunity was offered. The boys thought they were taking sides with\ntheir champion. Finally, the debate was ended by the Dutchman, who, with\nan exclamation of disgust, turned on his heel, and walked away, smoking\nfuriously.\n\n\u201cWell, Mack, what is the upshot of the whole matter?\u201d asked Uncle Dick,\nas the driver lifted his hat from his head, and wiped away the\nperspiration into which he had been thrown by his exertions. \u201cWill he\ntrade?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir, and neither will any of his people. They want to discourage\ntraders from coming out here, for they sell too much ammunition to the\nnatives.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what did our visitors have to say?\u201d asked Uncle Dick. \u201cI noticed\nthat they chimed in now and then.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. They assured me that we would stand a better chance if we\nshould go straight to their own country, and let the Boers alone; and\nthe Zulus say that there is ivory enough in their principal village to\nfill our wagon. But I wouldn\u2019t go after it if I could get it for\nnothing. The Boer gave you particular fits,\u201d added Mack, turning to\nFrank.\n\n\u201cMe! What have I done?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mended that gun for Mr. Jones,\u201d replied Mack; whereupon the boys\nand Uncle Dick broke out into a hearty peal of laughter. The idea of\ngiving a civilized name and title to a creature like that was supremely\nridiculous.\n\n\u201cWhat business was that of the Boer\u2019s?\u201d asked Frank, as soon as the\nnoise had subsided.\n\n\u201cWhy, he contends that Jones couldn\u2019t have fixed it himself, and so you\nwent and did it, and gave the Griquas just one more gun to shoot Boers\nwith. He says we can\u2019t stay in his settlement after that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe don\u2019t want to stay in his settlement,\u201d said Uncle Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll start\nthrough it early in the morning; and the goods that we can\u2019t barter to\nthe natives we\u2019ll bring back with us, and try to sell to the Boers\nnearer the colony.\u201d\n\nThis decision was acted upon. Mack had the travellers all astir at an\nearly hour the next morning, and while the boys were busy striking the\ntents and packing them away in the wagon, the cook made coffee and the\nother servants went off to drive up the oxen. By the time breakfast was\ndisposed of the inspanning was completed; and when Mack had taken a turn\nabout the camp to make sure that nothing had been left behind, he\nmounted his box and set the oxen in motion. Uncle Dick rode on ahead in\ncompany with Frank, as he generally did; the rest of the boys and the\ntrappers came behind to keep the loose cattle and horses in their\nplaces; and the extreme rear was brought up by the Griquas on their\nsorry-looking beasts. The Zulus had left camp the night before, after\nbegging a little tea from Uncle Dick. The sight of the goods that had\nbeen displayed for the Boer\u2019s benefit, made them open their eyes, and\nthey were hastening to their own country to inform their chief that a\ntrader was approaching. This was what Mack told the boys, and he knew it\nby what he had overheard of the conversation they had with the Griquas\njust before they left. But they needn\u2019t think that they were going to\nget him to trek so far out of the world, he said. He wouldn\u2019t cross that\ndesert and take his chances with the wild Bushmen for all the ivory\nthere was in Africa.\n\nWhen the wagon passed the farmhouse the Boer was standing in the door,\npipe in hand. \u201cGood morning and good-by to you, Mynheer Schrader,\u201d\nexclaimed Mack, cheerfully. \u201cI may see you again in a few weeks, and\nthen I hope I shall find you in a better humor. Remember that I have the\nbest stock of goods\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cI wants nothing but that the lions may catch you while you are going\nthrough the veldt,\u201d growled the Boer, in reply. \u201cAh! you\u2019re going to a\nbad place, and there\u2019ll be no traces left of you in the morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever fear. I know more about that veldt and the lions that are in it\nthan you do.\u201d\n\nThe boys did not quite understand this, so after a little consultation\namong themselves, Featherweight rode up to the wagon to ask some\ninformation. He remained in conversation with Mack for ten minutes, and\nwhen he dropped back beside his companions again, his face was all aglow\nwith excitement. \u201cWe may see something now, fellows,\u201d he exclaimed.\n\u201cThat \u2018veldt\u2019 the Boer was talking about is a valley in the hills about\na day\u2019s journey from here, and the lions are so numerous there that it\nis known all over the country as \u2018the lion veldt.\u2019 Every traveller\ndreads it. No one pretends to go through there by night, and people have\nbeen killed in broad daylight.\u201d\n\n\u201cHuman natur\u2019!\u201d ejaculated Dick.\n\nThe rest of the party said nothing at once, but looked down at the horns\nof their saddles and thought about it. They had not yet caught a glimpse\nof the king of beasts on his native heath. They had heard his voice on\nseveral occasions, and that was enough for them, especially for the\ntrappers, who, judging of the animal by the noise he was able to make,\nformed the opinion that he must be of immense size and something fearful\nto look at. To hear a tame lion roar in a menagerie, when they were\nstanding in a crowd of spectators and the lion was penned up in an iron\ncage and deprived of all power for mischief, was one thing; and to hear\nthat same tame lion\u2019s uncle or cousin give tongue in the wilds of Africa\non a dark and stormy night (Uncle Dick had often told them that when a\nlion made up his mind to do any particular damage he always chose a\nstormy night for it), when there were no iron bars to confine him, and\nnothing but the thin sides of their tent, and a frail breastwork of\nthorn-bushes, to keep him from dashing into their very midst, was\nanother and a widely different thing. The boys had heard lions roar\nunder all these circumstances, and George expressed the sentiments of\nthe most of the party when he said:\n\n\u201cI have listened to several concerts since I have been in this country,\nand I don\u2019t want to hear another.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will probably hear another within a few hours,\u201d returned Fred. \u201cThe\nnext water we shall find on the route is in that valley, and there\u2019s\nwhere we shall camp to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cAin\u2019t thar no trail that leads around it?\u201d asked old Bob, nervously.\n\n\u201cProbably not, or some one would have found it before this time. All\ntraders pass through there. Mack told me that about three years ago he\nwatched the fountain, beside which we are going to camp next, all one\nnight, and saw three different troops of lions come there to drink; but\nhe was so badly frightened by the hubbub they made, that he dared not\nshoot at them. He told me that his shooting-hole is there yet and that I\ncould use it to-night if I felt so disposed; but I declined.\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare you to stay there with me to-night.\u201d\n\nThe astonished boys looked up to see who the bold challenger was. It was\nEugene Gaylord, who, finding that his companions were staring hard at\nhim, dropped his reins, placed his hands on his hips and looked at each\nof them in turn. \u201cDon\u2019t all speak at once, because I don\u2019t want too much\ncompany,\u201d said he.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XIV.\n A TROOP OF LIONS.\n\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s no danger that you will be overburdened with company if you\nintend to pass the night at that shooting-hole,\u201d said Bob, with a laugh.\n\u201cI know who _won\u2019t_ go. Here\u2019s one.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s another,\u201d said George.\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s one who will go,\u201d cried Archie.\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t mean it,\u201d exclaimed George.\n\n\u201cI mean just this: if Eugene is brave enough to stay beside that spring\nto-night, I am,\u201d returned Archie.\n\n\u201cSo am I,\u201d said Fred.\n\n\u201cOh, of course,\u201d laughed George. \u201cIf one of you three go, you\u2019ll all go.\nWell, I shall stay contentedly by the fire, and about the time you hear\nthe roar of the first lion that is coming to the spring to drink, you\u2019ll\nwish yourselves safe beside the fire, too.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you really mean to go, Eugene?\u201d asked Archie, in a low tone.\n\n\u201cYes, I do, if you two fellows will go with me. We don\u2019t expect to kill\na lion or even shoot at one, but we\u2019ll have something to brag of. When\nwe get home we can say we performed a feat that none of the others dared\nattempt.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow big is one of them critters, anyhow?\u201d asked Dick Lewis. \u201cIs he much\nbigger\u2019n a painter?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy a panther wouldn\u2019t make an ear for a lion,\u201d replied Eugene. \u201cWell,\nyes, perhaps he would, too,\u201d he added, seeing that the trapper\u2019s eyes\nwere fastened searchingly upon him; \u201cbut he wouldn\u2019t make more than a\nhalf a dozen good mouthfuls. Will you go with us, Dick?\u201d\n\n\u201cNary time,\u201d exclaimed the trapper, quickly. \u201cA critter that can make\nsuch a bellerin\u2019 as that one did that stormy night a few weeks back, is\nsomething I don\u2019t want to see.\u201d\n\nOur three friends, Archie, Fred, and Eugene, had something to talk about\nnow\u2014something in which they alone were interested; so they fell back\nbehind the others, and during the rest of the forenoon were left almost\nentirely to themselves. Whether or not they expected to derive any\npleasure from their projected enterprise, other than to be found in\ntalking about it after it was all over, it is hard to tell. They tried\ntheir best to make themselves and one another believe that they did, and\nrepeatedly expressed the hope that Uncle Dick would not interpose his\nauthority, and spoil all their sport by ordering them to stay in the\ncamp. They expected that he would have something to say about it during\nthe noon halt, and so he did, but he did not put his veto on the\nproject. He had done such a thing more than once during his young and\nfoolish days, he said, and although he could not be easily induced to do\nit again, he would not like to sell his experience at any price. It was\ngoing to be a beautiful night for sport. It would be as dark as pitch,\nand that was just what they wanted. He hoped that they would bag lions\nenough so that each one of the party could have a skin to remind him of\nhis sojourn in Africa, and of that night in particular. Frank talked\nmuch in the same strain, and added that he thought he had enough\narsenical soap left to preserve a few of the heads of the lions, if the\nhunters would cut them off and bring them to the camp. The three friends\nwere not prepared for this, and they did not know what to make of it.\nThey had looked for opposition, and instead of that received\nencouragement and offers of assistance. They said nothing until the\njourney was resumed, and then they fell behind to compare notes.\n\n\u201cNow what do you suppose is in the wind?\u201d asked Eugene, as soon as they\nwere out of earshot of the rest of the party.\n\n\u201cLet Archie guess; he\u2019s a Yankee,\u201d replied Fred. \u201cThere\u2019s something up,\nI know, or Uncle Dick and Frank would not have talked as they did. What\nis it, Archie?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s no danger that any lions will come near the spring,\u201d replied\nArchie.\n\n\u201cWhy, didn\u2019t Mack tell me this morning that the veldt was full of them,\nand that he had seen three troops of lions at that very fountain?\u201d\ndemanded Fred. \u201cThat can\u2019t be it. Guess again.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey think that when night comes and it begins to grow dark, our\ncourage will give way, and we will say no more about going out to the\nshooting-hole,\u201d said Archie. \u201cAm I any nearer the mark this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think you are,\u201d replied Eugene. \u201cThat\u2019s the best guess you have made\nyet. They may think so\u2014it is probable they do\u2014but they will find that\nthey are mistaken. Do they imagine that I proposed this thing just to\nhear myself talk? They ought to know me better than that.\u201d\n\nThe boys having now got it into their heads that their courage was\nquestioned, were more than ever determined to carry their plans into\nexecution, provided, of course, that Uncle Dick did not change his mind\nbefore night came. They tried to look very unconcerned when they\nannounced this decision, and perhaps they felt so just then, for it is\nalways easy to talk carelessly of danger when the danger itself is far\ndistant; but as the afternoon began to wane, and the range of hills\ntoward which they had been journeying all day seemed to approach nearer\nand nearer to them, our three hunters began to be a little nervous and\nuneasy. Perhaps the actions of their companions had something to do with\nthis. The Griquas, who had all the day been loitering far in the rear,\nsuddenly urged their beasts into something resembling a canter, and drew\nnearer to the boys, as if for protection; while the trappers, after\nexchanging a few words in a hurried undertone, rode up to the head of\nthe line and joined Uncle Dick and his party. They seemed to feel safer\nin the captain\u2019s presence and Frank\u2019s than they did anywhere else. The\nGriquas were prompt to follow their example, and thus the rear-guard was\nreduced to a mere handful.\n\nArchie and his friends cared nothing for the company of the natives, for\nthey knew that in case of trouble no dependence was to be placed upon\nthem; but the hurried flight of the two trappers, who had faced so many\ndangers without flinching, had anything but a soothing effect upon them.\nThey would have been glad to ride up to the head of the line, too, but\nthat would not look well in three hunters who had announced their\ndetermination to perform an exploit that not another person in the\ncompany was willing to undertake. They staid because their pride\ncompelled them to do so, and George staid to keep them company.\n\nAn hour later the wagon entered the valley. It was a dreary,\nlonely-looking place they found when they got fairly into it, and they\ndid not wonder that travellers hurried through it with all possible\nspeed. It was about two miles wide, and on both sides arose steep hills,\nwhich were covered with thick forests from base to summit. The surface\nof the valley was not a level plain, as they had expected to find it. It\nwas undulating, and even hilly in some places; and although almost bare\nof trees, it was thickly covered with boulders, some the size of a man\u2019s\nhead, and others as large as the wagon. Among these huge boulders the\nroad twisted and turned in a way that was quite bewildering, a few of\nthe bends being so abrupt that in passing around them the leaders of the\nteam and the wheel oxen were seen moving in opposite directions. What an\nambuscade it would have formed for hostile natives\u2014wild Bushmen, for\ninstance\u2014and how easily a hungry lion could spring out from behind one\nof the boulders beside the road, seize a goat or a man, and jump back\nagain before a shot could be fired at him! Once safe behind a boulder he\nwas certain to escape with his booty, for he could spring from one rock\nto the cover of a second, and thence to a third, faster than even the\nbreechloaders could be charged and fired at him. But if there was any\nhungry lion in the neighborhood he did not show himself, and the\ntravellers passed safely through the wilderness of rocks, and finally\ndrew up in the edge of a little grove, where Mack intended to camp for\nthe night. Our three friends were on the ground at last.\n\nArchie and his companions did not dismount as the others did, but set\noff at once in search of the fountain. The first ox that was freed from\nthe yoke showed them where it was. Knowing that the animal\u2019s instinct\nwould direct him aright, they followed in his lead, and presently found\nthemselves standing on the bank of the spring. It was, perhaps, a\nhundred yards away from the wagon.\n\nTravellers on our Western plains, when they camp for the night,\ngenerally take pains to stop close beside a stream of water; but campers\nin Africa are obliged to follow a different custom. The springs, which\nare few and far apart, are generally found on the bare plain, and\nsometimes there is not a stick or bush within miles of them. Sticks and\nbushes are necessary, one to keep the fire going, and the other to build\nthe barricade which is always erected to protect the travellers and\ntheir stock from sudden attacks of wild beasts; so the camp is made in\nthe nearest piece of woods, the cattle are driven to the spring, and the\ntraveller brings back enough of the water to make his tea and coffee.\n\nUpon reaching the fountain the boys drew rein and looked about them with\na great deal of interest. They saw before them a body of water about\nfifty yards long and half as wide, whose source of supply was in the\nlimpid spring that bubbled out from the low bank that overhung one side\nof it. About twenty-five yards from the edge of the water, and in plain\nview of it, was the shooting-hole they were to occupy that night; and\nabout twenty yards still further back was another bank, ten or twelve\nfeet high, which completely shut them out from the view of the camp.\n\nThe shooting-hole was an excavation about four feet deep and six feet\nsquare. There was not much elbow-room in it for three such restless\nfellows as our young friends, but still it would afford them a very\ncomfortable hiding-place if they could only content themselves with\nclose quarters for a short time. They had one great objection to it when\nthey came to look at it, and that was, it was too close to the water.\n\u201cTwo or three swift bounds would carry a wild beast from the fountain\u2019s\nedge right into our very midst,\u201d exclaimed Eugene; \u201cthat is, provided,\nof course, that one comes here to-night and makes up his mind to pitch\ninto us.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, he\u2019ll come,\u201d shouted Fred, from the other side of the fountain.\n\u201cYou needn\u2019t borrow any trouble on that score. Come over here.\u201d\n\nThe boys went, and, when they had examined the ground on that side of\nthe spring, told one another that it would be surprising indeed if they\ndid not have visitors before morning. Wild beasts of some sort came\nthere to drink every night, and in goodly numbers, too. There could be\nno mistake about that, for the shore, which was low on that side of the\nspring, was tramped so hard that the hoofs of the thirty oxen made no\nimpression on it. An experienced and enthusiastic hunter, like the\nEnglish colonel of whom they purchased their outfit, would have been\ndelighted at such a prospect for sport.\n\nTheir friends at the camp looked curiously at them when they came back,\nbut saw no signs of backing out. The three hunters were not only in\nearnest, but they were impatient to begin operations, if one might judge\nby the way they hurried up the preparations for supper. They ate\nheartily of the viands that were set before them, and having satisfied\ntheir appetites and bidden their friends good-by, each boy shouldered\nhis rifles and a bundle of blankets, and was ready to set out. We say\n\u201crifles,\u201d for each boy carried two. Besides their double-barrels, Fred\nand Eugene took their sixteen shooters, and Archie his Maynard. They had\nthe most faith in their breechloaders, for they were accustomed to them.\nUncle Dick and Frank walked down to the spring with them, and having\nseen them snugly stowed away in the shooting-hole, bade them good-night\nand returned to the camp.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t quite understand what makes Uncle Dick act so,\u201d said Eugene,\nthoughtfully. \u201cSeems to me that he ought to have raised some objections,\nand I don\u2019t see why he didn\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps he and Frank are hiding up there behind the bank to keep an eye\non us, and be ready to lend us a hand in case we get into trouble,\u201d said\nFred.\n\n\u201cWell, we don\u2019t want any such backing as that. If they want to take a\nhand in this business, let them come in here with us. There\u2019s room\nenough for them with tight squeezing. I\u2019ll just satisfy myself on that\npoint.\u201d\n\nSo saying, Eugene jumped out of the hole and ran up the bank. The\ncampfire was burning brightly in the edge of the grove, and by the light\nit threw out the young hunter could see that Uncle Dick and his\ncompanion had just joined the rest of the party, who were busy making\npreparations for the night. The native servants, having built a small\ninclosure of thorn bushes, were driving the oxen into it and fastening\nthem in; some of the boys were arranging the beds in the tent; and the\nothers were tying the horses, which now began to come into the camp one\nafter another. These intelligent animals never waited to be driven in at\nnight as the oxen did. Their instinct taught them that the neighborhood\nof the campfire was the safest place for them, and thither they went as\nsoon as it began to grow dark.\n\nHaving completed his observations, Eugene joined his companions in the\nshooting-hole, and reported that he had seen Uncle Dick go into the\ncamp, and that he and his two friends were alone in their glory. The\nsudden silence that fell on the party when Eugene said this, was\nevidence that there was not near as much fun in being alone in their\nglory as they thought there was. How plainly they could hear the voices\nof the Kaffirs as they shouted at the oxen! And when the oxen were all\ndriven in and the voices ceased, how still it became all at once, and\nhow dark, too! They tried hard to shake off their feelings of awe and to\nfind something to talk about, but both efforts were failures. They could\nnot converse, for their lowest whispers were wonderfully distinct, and\nseemed to them loud enough to frighten away any animal that might be\napproaching the fountain. For an hour they remained almost motionless in\ntheir hiding-place, holding their weapons in readiness, and keeping\ntheir gaze directed over the edge of the bank toward the water, and then\nFred gave a sudden start and placed his hand on Archie\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cThere\u2019s something there!\u201d he whispered, excitedly.\n\nThe others listened, and could distinctly hear a faint lapping sound,\nmade by some animal in drinking; but he was invisible in the darkness.\nThey could not obtain the slightest glimpse of him.\n\n\u201cIt must be a lion,\u201d whispered Fred. \u201cYou know Uncle Dick told us that\nhe has heard lions drinking within ten yards of him, and couldn\u2019t see\nthem. They can\u2019t be seen in the dark.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they make a very loud noise in drinking,\u201d said Archie, \u201cand this\nanimal we can scarcely hear. It must be something else.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can see him now,\u201d said Eugene, as he pushed his double-barrel slowly\nand cautiously over the bank. \u201cBe ready to give him a broadside in case\nI don\u2019t kill him at the first shot. I am not accustomed to shooting in\nthe dark, you know.\u201d\n\nThe other two could see the animal now, but not plainly enough to\ndetermine what it was. It was moving swiftly on the other side of the\nfountain, and the boys thought it was looking directly towards their\nhiding-place. It circled around to their right, Eugene following all its\nmovements with his rifle, and only waiting for it to become stationary\nfor a moment so that he could make a sure shot, and presently it reached\nthe top of the bank at the rear of the shooting-hole, and stood out in\nbold relief against the sky. Then it got the \u201cwind\u201d of the young\nhunters, and, with a whisk of its tail and a toss of its head, it backed\nquickly down the hill out of sight, at the same time setting up a chorus\nof yelps that awoke the echoes far and near, and made the cold chill\ncreep all over the boys.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a sneaking jackal,\u201d exclaimed Fred, in great disgust.\n\n\u201cYes, and I\u2019d rather see almost anything else,\u201d said Eugene. \u201cJust hear\nwhat a yelping he keeps up! He\u2019ll bring the lions down on us as sure as\nthe world.\u201d\n\nThe boys, being well versed in natural history, were acquainted with the\nhabits of this animal before they ever saw one, and of late they had had\na little experience with some of his tribe. They knew that the jackal is\na sort of scout for the lion. Whenever he finds any game that he is\nafraid to attack himself, he sets up a terrific yelping, and any hungry\nlion who may be within hearing of the signal comes up and kills it, the\njackal standing by and looking on until the lordly beast has satisfied\nhis appetite and gone away, when he makes a meal of what is left. One\nday, just before they reached the house of the \u201csurly Boer,\u201d our three\nfriends, in company with Frank Nelson, were hunting elands along the\nroute, and in the excitement of the chase they followed them so far away\nthat it was night before they rode into camp, to which they were\ndirected by the firing of signal guns. Shortly after it began to grow\ndark, and while they were yet five miles from the wagon, they were\ndiscovered by a jackal, which followed them within sight of the\ncampfire, yelping all the while and trying his best to call the lions to\nthem. The cunning animal seemed to know what a gun was, for he took care\nto keep at a respectful distance from the boys, and whenever one of them\nhalted and tried to shoot him, he would take to his heels and be out of\nsight in a moment.\n\n\u201cThere he is,\u201d continued Eugene, as the jackal cautiously raised his\nhead above the top of the bank and looked down at them; but before the\ndouble-barrel could be brought to bear on him he had dodged back out of\nsight.\n\n\u201cJump up there and shoot him, Archie,\u201d cried Fred. \u201cYou are the nearest\nto him, and we don\u2019t want that yelping in our ears much longer.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir!\u201d exclaimed Archie, drawing himself close into his own corner.\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t go up there for\u2014for\u2014No, sir! Who knows but that he has\ncalled up a lion already?\u201d\n\n\u201cI declare he has,\u201d said Eugene, in a thrilling whisper. \u201cI can see him.\nI see two\u2014three. There is a troop of them!\u201d\n\nThis startling announcement would have tested the nerves of older and\nmore experienced hunters than Archie and Fred were; and if what they\nheard was enough to set their hearts to beating rapidly, what they saw a\nmoment later was sufficient to take all the courage out of them. A\nsingle glance showed them that Eugene\u2019s eyes had not deceived him. There\nthey were in plain sight\u2014a number of tawny animals moving swiftly about\non the opposite bank of the fountain, passing and repassing one another\nin their rapid evolutions, crouching close to the ground, and gradually\ndrawing nearer to the top of the bank where the jackal had disappeared,\nprobably with the object of getting the \u201cwind\u201d of the boys. Archie tried\nto count them; but when he fixed his gaze upon one, two or three more\nwould pass before it, these would quickly give place to as many more,\nand finally Archie became so bewildered and excited that he was ready to\ndeclare that troops of lions were springing up out of the ground before\nhis very eyes. He thought they showed rather plainly in the dark for\nlions, but still there could be no doubt that they were lions. Their\ncolor and their stealthy, crouching movements were enough to settle that\npoint.\n\n\u201cIf they get in here among us, there\u2019ll not be a mouthful apiece for\nthem, will there?\u201d said Fred.\n\n\u201cThey\u2019ll not all get in here,\u201d replied Archie.\n\n\u201cNow that we are cornered, it is a good time to show what we are made\nof. I am going to begin shooting.\u201d\n\nBefore the words had fairly left his lips Archie\u2019s double-barrel spoke,\nand one of the lions sprang into the air, and fell at full length on the\nground. A second received the contents of the other barrel without\nfalling, and even succeeded in getting away out of sight, although\nArchie was certain that the ball from his Maynard, which he caught up as\nsoon as his double-barrel was empty, must have found a lodgment in his\nbody somewhere.\n\nWhile Archie was thus engaged, his two companions were not idle. They\npromptly opened on the lions with their own weapons, and without waiting\nto see the effect of the bullets from their double-barrels, caught up\ntheir sixteen-shooters, and pumped the shots right and left. The\nmagazines were emptied in a trice, and then the three hunters hastily\nducked their heads and crouched close behind the walls of their\nhiding-place, holding their breath in dread suspense, and waiting for\nsome of the wounded members of the troop to precipitate themselves into\nthe shooting-hole. But nothing of the kind happened. All was still\noutside. They heard only the beating of their own hearts.\n\n\u201cWe must have hit those we killed,\u201d Fred ventured to whisper at last.\n\n\u201cProbably we did,\u201d returned Archie. \u201cWe couldn\u2019t have killed them unless\nwe hit them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean we must have killed all we hit and frightened the rest away,\u201d\nsaid Fred. \u201cIf there were any wounded ones among them they would have\nbeen in here before this time.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: THE NIGHT IN THE SHOOTING PIT.]\n\nThe others were very willing to accept this as the reason why they had\nnot all been torn in pieces long ago. It put new life and courage into\nthem, and having pushed a cartridge into their breechloaders, they\nraised their heads cautiously above the bank to take a survey of the\nscene of the slaughter. They could not see a single lion or hear\nanything of one; but they heard something else\u2014a heavy tramping of feet\nand a confused murmur of voices. They looked hastily around, and saw a\nbright light shining above the bank behind them.\n\n\u201cUncle Dick\u2019s coming!\u201d cried Fred; and the next moment the old sailor\nappeared at the top of the bank, closely followed by the rest of the\nparty, two of whom carried firebrands in their hands.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XV.\n \u201cWHERE\u2019S MY HORSE?\u201d\n\n\n\u201cWhat is it, boys?\u201d asked Uncle Dick, his voice trembling with\nexcitement and alarm. \u201cAnybody hurt?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir,\u201d replied Eugene, drawing a long breath of relief; \u201cbut if you\nlook about a little you\u2019ll find some _thing_ out there that\u2019s hurt. We\nhaven\u2019t fired thirty-nine shots for nothing, I tell you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat was it, anyhow?\u201d asked George. \u201cA lion?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should think so,\u201d replied Fred.\n\n\u201cOh, I guess not,\u201d said Mack, incredulously.\n\n\u201cI guess they were lions,\u201d returned Eugene, quickly. \u201cWe saw more than\ntwenty prowling about here.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a larger troop than I ever heard of before,\u201d said Mack.\n\n\u201cWell, you hear of it now, and if you had been here you would have seen\nit. Archie shot one, and he jumped clear of the ground, so that we all\nhad a fair view of him. I tell you he was a big one\u2014larger than any I\never saw in a menagerie. He\u2019s out there somewhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe I see him,\u201d said Frank, holding his firebrand above his head,\nand looking intently at some object on the other side of the fountain.\n\nThe three hunters scrambled up out of the shooting-hole, and with the\nrest of the party followed after Frank, who led the way down the bank.\nThere was some animal lying on the ground on the opposite side of the\nspring, sure enough; but it was not the immense object they expected to\nsee after listening to Eugene\u2019s description of it. When they had taken a\nfew steps more Mack broke into a laugh, and Eugene began to think that\nhe must have looked through a very badly frightened pair of eyes to make\na first-class lion out of the insignificant beast he saw before him.\nWhat had at first appeared to be a great shaggy head gradually dwindled\ninto a pair of shoulders, and presently he found himself standing beside\nan animal a little larger than the wolves he had often seen in his\nnative State.\n\n\u201cThis can\u2019t be the thing I shot,\u201d said Archie.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t see anything else,\u201d replied his cousin, raising his firebrand\nabove his head and looking all around.\n\n\u201cWhat is it, anyhow?\u201d asked Fred. \u201cIt looks like a dog, and a\nhalf-starved one at that.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s just what it is,\u201d said Mack, \u201ca wild dog. It was a pack of these\nanimals you fired into, instead of a troop of lions. I suspected it all\nthe time.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll not stop to skin him, for his hide is not worth saving,\u201d said\nUncle Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll go back to camp now.\u201d\n\nThe three hunters were so greatly astonished that they had not a word to\nsay. Silently they shouldered their rifles and followed the party back\nto the camp, listening all the while for the words of ridicule which\nthey expected from their companions, but which were never uttered.\nNothing was said about the matter until the next morning at breakfast,\nand then the hunters themselves began to make sport of their night\u2019s\nwork. This led to a long conversation, during which the boys learned two\nthings. The first was, that they had been in just as much danger of an\nattack from the wild dogs as they would have been had they been visited\nby a troop of lions. Wild dogs were by no means the insignificant foes\nthey imagined them to be. They were as fierce as wolves, always hungry,\nand ready to attack anything they met, from a springbok to a buffalo. A\nsingle one would take to his heels at the sight of a human being, but\nnumbers made them bold, and it was not often that a solitary hunter met\na pack of them and escaped to tell the story. The second thing they\nlearned was, that the reason Uncle Dick permitted them to carry out\ntheir plan of watching the fountain, was because Mack assured him that\nthere was no danger to be apprehended from lions at that season of the\nyear. These animals came there to drink only when the springs that lay\ndeeper in the veldt were dry. Had they passed that way two months later,\nArchie and his companions would have received orders to remain in camp.\nThe boys, however, supposed, from what Mack said, that lions visited the\nfountain every night, and they showed no small amount of courage in what\nthey had done, but they never again proposed to spend a night in a\nshooting-hole.\n\nDuring the next three weeks nothing happened that is worthy of record,\nand neither did anything happen to encourage the hope that their stock\nof goods would pay the expenses of the trip. Not a Boer in the\nsettlement\u2014and they visited every one of them\u2014would trade with them. The\nsight of the fine fat cattle feeding on the farms they passed induced\nMack to spend a good deal of time in the effort to dispose of the\ncontents of the wagon, but not a yard of ribbon could he barter. The\nmagistrate\u2019s orders were strictly obeyed. Indeed, at the last farm they\nvisited they found the magistrate himself, who was, if that were\npossible, more crabbed than when they first met him. No sooner had the\nwagon halted than he appeared and ordered Mack to move on; but the\nScotchman, who had his eye on the cattle, believing that there was more\nmoney to be made out of them in Grahamstown than out of the ivory they\nexpected to receive from the Griquas, was not to be driven away so\neasily. He went directly to the house, found the owner of the farm, and\ntried his arts with him, but with no better success. This one was as\ncross and surly as the other, and Mack, finally becoming disgusted at\ntheir obstinacy, jumped on his wagon and put the oxen in motion.\n\n\u201cI hope the Bushmen will jump down on you and steal every ox you\u2019ve\ngot,\u201d he exclaimed, shaking his whip at the Boer as he drove away.\n\u201cThat\u2019s all the harm I wish you, Mynheer Schrader.\u201d\n\nThe Dutchman made an angry reply in his own language, and seemed to be\ngiving Mack a little parting advice, for he talked rapidly to him as\nlong as the driver was within hearing of his voice. The boys could not\ntell what he said, but they thought by the expression that came over the\nScotchman\u2019s face, that his words had produced an unpleasant effect. \u201cIf\nI thought that was so, I wouldn\u2019t go a step farther,\u201d the boys heard him\nsay, when the Boer ceased his shouting and went into the house.\n\n\u201cIf you thought what was so?\u201d asked Eugene.\n\n\u201cWhy, Schrader says the Bushmen will be down on _us_ before they touch\nhim,\u201d answered Mack. \u201cHe says there\u2019s a large party of them between here\nand the Griqua country, and that that farmer back there is going to pack\nup to-morrow and move his family and cattle farther into the settlement\nfor protection.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you say you don\u2019t believe it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no reason to disbelieve it,\u201d said Mack, in a tone the boys did\nnot like to hear. \u201cThey\u2019re always roaming about, these Bushmen are.\nThey\u2019re something like what I think your Indians must be from what I\nhear of them. Although they go about on foot\u2014the only reason they steal\ncattle is because they want something to eat\u2014they get over a good\nstretch of country in a day, and jump down on a fellow before he knows\nthey are near him. If I owned this wagon I\u2019d turn back. We\u2019ve got a\njourney of four weeks to make before we reach the Griquas\u2019 principal\ntown, and if the Bushmen are about they\u2019ll have plenty of time to find\nus. We shall see trouble before many days.\u201d\n\nThe trouble began that very night. It was commenced by the Kaffirs, who\nhad overheard what the Boers said to Mack, and were greatly troubled by\nit. When the wagon halted for the night, these worthies went about the\nwork of outspanning very reluctantly. They did not shout and sing as\nthey usually did when their day\u2019s labor was over, but went into the\nsulks, and acted like a lot of children who had been denied something\ntheir parents thought they ought not to have. Uncle Dick, who lay on his\nblanket under his tent enjoying his pipe, watched their actions for a\nfew minutes and then called Frank to his side. \u201cJust keep your weather\neye open to-night, and see that the horses all come in,\u201d said he, in a\nlow tone, \u201cand tell the rest of the boys to be very careful of their\nguns.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d asked Frank.\n\n\u201cYou know what that Boer said to Mack about the Bushmen, don\u2019t you?\nWell, the Kaffirs heard it and are laying their plans to leave us. They\nare afraid of those wild men of the desert.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo am I,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cI am not particularly anxious to meet them,\u201d said Uncle Dick, with a\nsmile, \u201cbut I am not going to run until I see something to run from, and\nneither do I mean that our property shall be stolen. These Kaffirs are\nnoted for deserting their employers when things don\u2019t go to their\nliking, and they take care not to leave empty-handed. They always steal\nthe best of the horses and the best of the guns, too, if they can get\ntheir hands on them. We must have a guard every night from this time\nforward. Don\u2019t you think it would be a good plan?\u201d\n\nThis question was addressed to the driver, who had been standing in the\ndoor of the tent long enough to overhear the most of what Uncle Dick\nsaid to Frank.\n\n\u201cYou surely don\u2019t mean to go on?\u201d said Mack.\n\n\u201cCertainly I do,\u201d answered Uncle Dick. \u201cI am not going to take my stock\nof goods back to Grahamstown if I can help it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf they belonged to me I should start back with them to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Mack, I didn\u2019t expect to hear that from you,\u201d said Uncle Dick,\nreproachfully.\n\n\u201cAnd you wouldn\u2019t either, sir, if it wasn\u2019t that the Bushmen are\nprowling about us.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you ever have any trouble with them?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid you ever hear of a trader who did?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cNeither did I. All we know about them is what we have heard of their\nfights with the Zulus.\u201d\n\nThis was only the beginning of the conversation between Uncle Dick and\nthe driver. The latter seemed to be greatly alarmed at the danger they\nwere about to run into, and when he found his employer was resolved to\ngo ahead, he urged him to pay him off and let him go. This Uncle Dick\nrefused to do. He could not get on without Mack, and besides, the latter\nhad agreed to drive the wagon to the Griqua country and back to\nGrahamstown for so much money, which was to be paid when the journey was\nended. It was not yet half completed, and if Mack chose to stop work\nthen and there, he could not expect a farthing for the services he had\nalready rendered.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re made of good stuff, you Yankees are,\u201d said Mack, with more\nearnestness than the occasion demanded, \u201cand since you are bound to go\non, I\u2019ll stick to you to the death. Bet on me every time.\u201d\n\nTo give emphasis to his words the driver shook hands with his employer,\nthen with Frank, and hurried out of the tent to see how the Kaffirs were\ngetting on with their preparations for the night.\n\n\u201cDid he speak his real sentiments?\u201d asked Uncle Dick, as soon as he was\nout of hearing.\n\n\u201cThat was the very question I was asking myself,\u201d replied Frank. \u201cTo my\nmind his tongue said one thing and his face another.\u201d\n\nFrank, who had his own duties to perform every time the camp was made,\nnow went out to attend to them. He found the rest of the boys and three\nof the Kaffirs busy erecting a barricade of thorn-bushes behind the\ntent, and joining in the work, he found opportunity to report to each of\nhis companions the warning Uncle Dick had given him. The boys were all\neager to stand guard, and Frank, knowing that Uncle Dick expected him to\narrange the matter, divided them into reliefs, and told them what hours\nthey would be called on for duty.\n\nSupper was served in a few minutes, and while the meal was in progress\nthe horses began to come into camp and take their stations behind the\nwagon, where they were always tied during the night. As fast as they\ncame up, the owners set down their plates and went out to secure their\nsteeds, taking care to see that the halters were tightly buckled on, and\nthat the tie-reins were well secured. About the same time Mack, who had\nbeen missing for the last half hour, came up driving the oxen. Frank\ntold himself that that was something the driver had never done before,\nand then the matter passed out of his mind until a few hours later, when\nsomething happened to recall it very forcibly. During the meal one other\nthing happened that was unusual, and which soon drew everybody\u2019s\nattention. When Uncle Dick\u2019s horse was made fast to the wagon, he raised\nhis head, and looking back towards the grove from which he had just\nemerged, uttered a loud, shrill neigh. This he repeated at intervals,\nuntil Uncle Dick and the rest began to think it meant something, and\nArchie, having finished his supper, went out to look into the matter. \u201cI\nknow what it means now,\u201d said he, at length. \u201cThe horses are all here\nexcept mine, and Uncle Dick\u2019s nag is calling him.\u201d\n\nThe boys then remembered something which they might never have thought\nof again if this incident had not suggested it to them, and that was,\nthat Uncle Dick\u2019s horse and Archie\u2019s had been almost constant companions\never since the journey began. They never mingled with the other animals\nwhen turned loose to graze, but wandered off by themselves; and if any\nof the nags belonging to the rest of the party intruded upon them, they\nwould turn away as if annoyed by their presence, and hunt up a new\nfeeding-ground. It was the custom of their masters when on the march to\nride at opposite ends of the train, Uncle Dick in front, and Archie in\nthe rear with Fred and Eugene. The horses seemed to dislike this\narrangement, and annoyed their riders exceedingly by constantly calling\nto each other. They liked to be in company, and they were uneasy when\nseparated.\n\n\u201cI wonder what has become of my horse!\u201d said Archie, anxiously.\n\n\u201cI saw him a quarter of an hour ago, and he was all right then,\u201d replied\nMack. \u201cHe will be along directly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not so certain of that,\u201d answered Archie. \u201cThese two animals are\nnever parted if they can help it, and there must be something the\nmatter. I\u2019ll soon find out. May I take your horse for a few minutes,\nUncle Dick?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d asked Mack, as Archie, having received an\naffirmative reply from the captain, hurried into the tent and picked up\nhis rifle.\n\n\u201cI am going out to see what has become of my horse,\u201d was the answer.\n\n\u201cOh, I wouldn\u2019t do it, if I were you,\u201d exclaimed the driver, who seemed,\nall at once, to take a deep interest in Archie\u2019s movements. \u201cIt will be\npitch dark in five minutes\u2014there\u2019s no twilight in this country, you\nknow\u2014and if you lose your way out there in the bush the lions will get\nyou sure. I tell you that you had better stay here in camp where you\u2019re\nsafe,\u201d he added, almost appealingly, when he saw that the rest of the\nboys were making ready to accompany Archie.\n\nBut the youngsters paid no attention to him. Hastily catching up their\nrifles, they mounted their horses without stopping to put on the saddles\nor bridles, and followed after Archie, who, giving Uncle Dick\u2019s horse\nhis own way, was carried at a rapid gallop towards the grove. The\nanimal, which seemed to know just what Archie wanted to do, skirted the\nwoods for a few hundred yards, neighing at intervals, and finally\nsucceeded in bringing a faint response from among the trees. Then he\nturned and was about to plunge into the forest, but his rider checked\nhim. Archie would not have gone in there for a dozen horses. The\nundergrowth was all thorn-bushes, which stood so closely together that\nit was only with the greatest difficulty that one could make his way\namong them in daylight without being terribly scratched and torn. In the\ndark it would have been almost as much as his life was worth to attempt\nto force a passage through them.\n\n\u201cWe must give him up until morning, if he doesn\u2019t find his way out\nbefore,\u201d said Eugene.\n\n\u201cThen he\u2019ll never come out,\u201d returned Archie, dolefully. \u201cSomething will\nmake a meal of him before daylight. Good-by horse!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you suppose makes him stay in there anyhow? That\u2019s what I can\u2019t\nunderstand,\u201d said Frank. \u201cIf he went in there of his own free will he\nought to be able to find his way out.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre there any natives about here who would be likely to dig pitfalls\nfor game in these woods?\u201d asked George.\n\n\u201cListen!\u201d cried Eugene, suddenly. \u201cThat neigh certainly sounded louder\nand plainer than the others. Yes, sir, he\u2019s coming.\u201d\n\nArchie thought this news was too good to be true. He held his breath and\nlistened until the next shrill neigh was uttered, and then told himself\nthere was no mistake about it. Presently the boys could hear the horse\nforcing his way through the bushes, and in ten minutes more he came out\ninto the open ground, and galloping forward to greet his companion,\nrubbed noses with him, and said as plainly as a horse could say, that he\nwas overjoyed to see him once more.\n\nWhen the boys reached the camp Mack was the first to greet them. Indeed,\nhe was so anxious to know whether or not the horse had been found, that\nwhen he heard them coming he ran out and met them a hundred yards from\nthe wagon. \u201cIt\u2019s all right,\u201d said Archie, gleefully.\n\n\u201cYou haven\u2019t brought him back?\u201d exclaimed the driver, in tones of\nastonishment.\n\n\u201cYes, we have.\u201d\n\nThis declaration seemed to surprise Mack. He stood motionless for a\nmoment, and then moved around to take a look at the horse, which was\nfollowing the one on which Archie was mounted. He saw the animal, but it\nseemed as if he could not be satisfied until he had put his hand on him.\nThis familiarity, however, the horse would not permit. He bounded out of\nthe driver\u2019s reach, and turned his heels toward him as if he had a good\nnotion to kick him.\n\n\u201cThere wasn\u2019t any rope on\u2014I mean\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cRope!\u201d exclaimed Perk, when Mack hesitated. \u201cNow I\u2019ll tell you what\u2019s a\nfact, of course there wasn\u2019t. Who should put a rope on him?\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean it\u2019s wonderful that you\u2019ve got him back safe and sound,\u201d said\nthe driver, quickly. \u201cI was afraid some wild beast had found him before\nthis time.\u201d\n\nThe boys thought the Scotchman acted very strangely, but they were so\nglad to recover the horse that they did not stop to think about that.\nArchie\u2019s first care was to fasten the animal to the wagon beside Uncle\nDick\u2019s horse, and when he had done that he went into the tent where the\nrest of the party were arranging their beds preparatory to retiring, and\ntrying to decide what it was that had kept the horse out so long after\nhis companion had come into camp. The conclusion at which they arrived\nwas that he had become separated from the other horse and got bewildered\nin the woods. This was the opinion advanced by the driver, and the rest\nall thought he was right\u2014all except Uncle Dick. The latter said nothing,\nbut he thought there was something suspicious about the whole\nproceeding, and that it would be a good plan to set a watch over the\ndriver. He could not speak about it then, for Mack was present; but he\nresolved that he would do it the first thing in the morning.\n\nIt was now dark and time to post the guards, so Frank called the first\nrelief, which, singularly enough, consisted of Walter and Bob, the very\nones who were on duty the night two of Potter\u2019s men made a raid on their\ncamp in the Rocky Mountains. The latter Frank posted at the upper end of\nthe camp in plain view of the barricade, behind which the four Kaffirs\nwere lying, and the other he stationed near the wagon, to keep an eye on\nthe horses.\n\n\u201cI hope you will not get into as much trouble as you did the first time\nI put you on guard,\u201d said Frank.\n\n\u201cI think there is little danger of it,\u201d laughed Walter. \u201cThere are no\noutlaws in this country, and besides I have learned wisdom since then.\nI\u2019d like to see a man approach me to-night and deceive me as completely\nas those two fellows did. It couldn\u2019t be done.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t suppose that any one will try it. As long as the Kaffirs know\nthat we are watching them and the horses, they will probably behave\nthemselves. We\u2019d be in a nice fix if all our help should desert us,\nwouldn\u2019t we? Good-night. Keep up the fire, and call Archie at ten\no\u2019clock.\u201d\n\nFrank went back to the tent, wrapped himself up in his blanket, and went\nto sleep, lulled by the yelping of a pack of jackals, which made it a\npoint to serenade the camp as regularly as the prairie-wolves did when\nthe travellers were journeying on the plains. In half an hour more every\nperson in the camp seemed to be sound asleep except the two sentries.\nThese paced their beats alert and watchful, one thinking of home and\nfriends, and the other recalling the thrilling incidents that had\nhappened once upon a time while he was guarding camp away off in the\nwilds of his own country. He went through the adventures of that night\nagain in imagination, and just as he got to that particular part of them\nwhere he first discovered the outlaws approaching the camp, he heard a\nfootfall near him, and turning quickly about saw the driver step over\nthe wagon-tongue.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVI.\n DESERTED.\n\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, Mack?\u201d asked Walter. \u201cDo the jackals disturb you?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Sh!\u201d whispered the latter, making a warning gesture. \u201cThere\u2019s no need\nof arousing the camp, for I can make it all right myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cMake what all right?\u201d asked Walter, almost involuntarily sinking his\nvoice to a low whisper.\n\n\u201cWhy, one of the Kaffirs has slipped away from Bob, and I saw him\nsneaking off towards the woods with your uncle\u2019s fine double-barrel in\nhis hands,\u201d replied Mack.\n\n\u201cYou did!\u201d exclaimed Walter. \u201cThen I must\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind. I\u2019ll do all that\u2019s to be done. Don\u2019t make the least noise,\nbecause if you do the others will run away too, and we might as well be\nat sea in an open boat without oars or sails, as out here in this\nwilderness if the Kaffirs leave us. I\u2019ll bring him back if you will lend\nme your horse and gun.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I will,\u201d said Walter. \u201cDon\u2019t come back till you catch him,\nfor I don\u2019t know what Uncle Dick would do without that rifle. He would\nbe sorry to lose it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe shan\u2019t lose it,\u201d answered Mack, taking Walter\u2019s saddle and bridle\nout of the wagon and placing them upon the horse. \u201cSay nothing to\nnobody. I\u2019ll have him back here in no time, and if I don\u2019t use the\nwagon-whip on him! Whew! I wouldn\u2019t be in his place for no money.\u201d\n\nThe horse was saddled and bridled in a trice, and Mack springing upon\nhis back took the rifle Walter handed to him, and rode away in the\ndarkness. All this passed so rapidly that it was done and Mack was out\nof sight before Walter fairly realized it. Then it occurred to him that\nit was very strange that the driver should want a horse to pursue a man\non foot who had but a few minutes the start of him, but when he came to\nthink about it, it was not so very strange either. Walter knew that some\nof the Kaffirs could run like deer, and he knew, too, that Mack, having\nbeen accustomed to ride on horseback ever since he was large enough to\nsit alone in the saddle, was very much averse to walking, and very\nclumsy besides; so perhaps the best thing had been done after all. He\nwas sorry to hear of his uncle\u2019s loss, and wondered how the Kaffir could\nhave succeeded in obtaining possession of the weapon and stealing away\nwithout being seen by Bob, who stood where he could observe every move\nthat was made about the tent. He waited most impatiently for Mack\u2019s\nreturn, but could hear nothing of him\u2014it was so dark that he could not\nhave seen him until he was close upon the camp\u2014and at ten o\u2019clock he\nmended the fire and called his relief. Archie presently came out with\nhis Maynard on his shoulder, and Walter told him what had happened,\nadding that he had been looking for Mack every minute during the last\nhour, and now began to fear that the Kaffir had succeeded in eluding him\nin the darkness. He lay down on his blanket, intending to speak to Bob\nabout it; but the latter lingered to talk to his relief, and when he\ncame into the tent Walter was fast asleep.\n\nMack did not return during Archie\u2019s watch, and at twelve o\u2019clock he\ncalled Eugene, to whom he repeated the substance of what Walter had told\nhim. Of course Eugene was highly excited at once, and when Archie went\ninto the tent, he walked toward the other end of the camp to take a look\nat the Kaffirs, and see who it was that was missing. There was one among\nthem who had in some way incurred Eugene\u2019s displeasure, and if this was\nthe one who had stolen Uncle Dick\u2019s rifle, he would not be at all sorry\nto see the wagon-whip used on him.\n\n\u201cNow just listen to me a minute, and I\u2019ll tell you what\u2019s a fact. What\nare you doing here?\u201d demanded Perk, who stood sentry at that end of the\ncamp.\n\n\u201cDo you know that one of your Kaffirs has run away?\u201d asked Eugene.\n\n\u201cNo; and one of them hasn\u2019t run away, either,\u201d replied Perk, almost\nindignantly. \u201cI haven\u2019t been asleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, he went while Bob was on\u2014stole Uncle Dick\u2019s fine gun too, the\nrascal.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I must be blind, or else he put a dummy in his bed,\u201d declared\nPerk. \u201cI counted them when I came out, and they were all there.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you sure?\u201d\n\n\u201cAm I sure that I can count as high as four?\u201d\n\n\u201cI begin to think you can\u2019t,\u201d answered Eugene. \u201cLet\u2019s go and see.\u201d\n\nThe two boys advanced on tip-toe toward the place where the native\nservants were curled up under the shelter of the thorn-bushes. They were\nall soundly asleep, and so closely covered with their skin cloaks that\nnothing but the tops of their woolly heads could be seen. Eugene counted\nthem twice, and then to make assurance doubly sure, went closer and\nlifted the cloaks so that he could see their faces. Then he stepped back\nagain and looked at Perk. \u201cWhat do you think now?\u201d asked the latter.\n\nEugene did not know what to think.\n\n\u201cWho first started the story that one of them had run away?\u201d continued\nPerk.\n\n\u201cMack started it. He told Walter so.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I\u2019ll just tell you what\u2019s a fact. Where\u2019s Mack?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe borrowed Walter\u2019s horse and gun and went out to catch the Kaffir.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and in the morning we\u2019ll have to send somebody out to catch Mack.\nI understand now why he didn\u2019t want Archie to go out to look for his\nhorse. He had the animal tied up out there in the woods.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d exclaimed Eugene.\n\n\u201cDidn\u2019t he ask if there was a rope on him? The horse got away somehow,\nand Mack being afraid that he had brought the rope back with him, wanted\nto get hold of him, so that he could take it off before we saw it. He\nintended to leave the animal out there in the bushes until after dark,\nwhen he would jump on him, and ride away; but that plan being knocked in\nthe head, he made up that funny story he told Walter, and got off after\nall.\u201d\n\nEugene waited to hear no more. Believing that Perk had made a very\nshrewd guess, as indeed he had, he rushed into the tent to arouse his\nuncle, and in doing so awoke all the boys, who, fearing that something\ndreadful had happened, started up in alarm, and reached hurriedly for\ntheir weapons. \u201cMack\u2019s gone!\u201d was all Eugene could say in reply to their\nquestions.\n\n\u201cI thought so,\u201d exclaimed Walter, who then went on to describe the\ninterview that had taken place between him and the driver.\n\n\u201cIt is all my fault,\u201d said Frank. \u201cI might have warned you.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry over it,\u201d returned Uncle Dick, quickly. \u201cThere\u2019s no one to\nblame except myself. If I had told you to put the boys on their guard\nagainst Mack, you would have done so. You fellows, who are on watch,\nkeep your eyes open, and see that we don\u2019t lose any more horses and\nguns, and the rest of us will go to sleep again.\u201d\n\nEugene thought this was taking matters very coolly, but after all he did\nnot see that there was anything else to be done. Mack was mounted on a\nfleet horse and had a good long start; and besides he was so well\nacquainted with the country that he could have escaped if there had been\nan army in pursuit of him. He was gone, and there was an end of the\nmatter.\n\nThe boys were gloomy enough the next morning, but Uncle Dick was as\ncheerful as usual. He aroused the Kaffirs at daylight and ordered them\nto drive the oxen out to graze, while the boys, having turned the horses\nloose, began the work of packing up. The Kaffirs obeyed very sullenly,\nand the old sailor saw plainly enough that the trouble with his hired\nhelp was only just beginning. They drove the oxen out, and contrary to\nhis usual custom, the cook went with them. They passed pretty close to\ntheir employer, who saw their spear-heads sticking out from under one\nside of their cloaks, while the other was bulged out as if the wearers\nwere carrying something under their left arms. He suspected the truth at\nonce, but said nothing, and smoked his morning pipe as serenely as\nthough everything was working to his entire satisfaction.\n\n\u201cWhere in the world is that cook?\u201d exclaimed Eugene about an hour later,\nafter the tent had been struck and all the camp equipage packed away in\nthe wagon. \u201cI don\u2019t see any preparations for breakfast.\u201d\n\n\u201cNeither do I,\u201d said Uncle Dick. \u201cPerk, you used to act as ship\u2019s cook\nin the Banner once in a while; suppose you show us what you can do in\nthat line now. Yes,\u201d he added, in reply to the inquiring looks that were\ndirected toward him, \u201cwe\u2019re deserted.\u201d\n\nThe boys dropped their work and gazed at one another in speechless\nastonishment. At first they could hardly realize what the words meant.\nThey felt a good deal as shipwrecked mariners must feel when they find\nthemselves tossing about in the waves in an open boat with not a point\nof land or a friendly sail in sight.\n\n\u201cFrom this time forward we must do the best we can by ourselves,\u201d\ncontinued the old sailor, cheerfully. \u201cThe Griquas here will show us the\nway to their country, and when we have sold them everything there is in\nthe wagon that they want, we\u2019ll hire some of them to guide us back to\nthe coast.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd when we get there, if we ever do, I for one shall be ready to start\nfor home,\u201d declared Walter.\n\n\u201cOh, don\u2019t get gloomy over it. Some of you have been in worse situations\nthan this.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut are you sure the Kaffirs are gone?\u201d asked Fred.\n\n\u201cAs sure as I can be. When they went out with the oxen this morning they\ntook all their property with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you saw it and never tried to stop them?\u201d inquired Eugene.\n\n\u201cI did. Why should I try to stop them? If a Kaffir will not work\nwillingly you can\u2019t force him to do it. They would have slipped away\nfrom us some time or other, and since they were bound to go, they might\nas well go to-day as to-morrow.\u201d\n\nThe boys were stunned, bewildered by this unexpected calamity, and it\nwas a long time before Uncle Dick\u2019s cheering words had any effect on\nthem.\n\nThey had depended wholly upon Mack to make this expedition successful,\nand to conduct them safely back to the coast, and now that he was gone\nit seemed as if their mainstay was gone, and that there was nothing left\nfor them but to give up entirely. They had put such implicit faith in\nMack, too! It was only during the last few hours that any one began to\nsuspect that he was not altogether worthy of the confidence that had\nbeen reposed in him.\n\nBut this gloomy state of feeling could not long continue while the old\nsailor was about. His cheerfulness and good-nature were contagious, and\nin less than half an hour the boys were talking as merrily about what\nthey had considered to be a misfortune as though it was the most\nagreeable thing that could have happened to them. Perk\u2019s breakfast\ncompletely restored their spirits, and when they had done full justice\nto it, the inspanning began. This was the most annoying piece of work\nthe boys had yet undertaken. They shouted and talked Dutch and threw\nstones as they had heard and seen the Kaffirs do, but the oxen were not\nacquainted with them, and ran away as fast as they were brought up to\nthe yokes. Eugene said it was because the animals were disgusted with\ntheir efforts to talk in a foreign tongue, and advised his companions to\nscold them in English; but this had no better effect. However, after\nthey had all shouted themselves hoarse, and thrown stones until their\narms ached, the last ox was put into the yoke, and Walter, who\nvolunteered to act as driver, picked up the whip.\n\n\u201cWhoa! Haw, there, Buck! Get up!\u201d he shouted; and following the example\nof the absent driver, who always gave the signal for starting by making\nhis whip crack like a pistol, he swung the heavy lash around, but with\nno other result than to hit himself a stinging blow across the ear.\nWhile his companions were laughing at him, and Walter was dancing about,\nholding one hand to the side of his head, and trying with the other to\nunwrap the lash that had wound itself around his body, Uncle Dick\nshouted: \u201cTrek! trek!\u201d The oxen, understanding this, settled into the\nyokes, and the wagon was quickly in motion.\n\nWe might relate many interesting and some amusing incidents that\nhappened during the next few weeks, but as we have to do principally\nwith the adventures that befell our heroes, we must hasten on to the\nlast, and wind up the history of the Sportsman\u2019s Club. Led by the\nGriquas, who acted as their guides, the travellers finally reached the\nprincipal village of the tribe (they saw nothing of the wild Bushmen\nduring the journey, although they kept a constant lookout for them) and\nwhen they had taken a good view of it, they fervently hoped that their\nstay there would be a short one. They could see nothing attractive in\nthe dirty savages who surrounded them, or in the still dirtier hovels\nthat served them for shelter. Besides, they were growing heartily tired\nof staying ashore. They had seen quite enough of life in Africa, and\nbegan to talk more about home and friends than they had done at any time\nsince leaving Bellville. But their departure from the village was\ndelayed more than a month. In the first place, the natives proved to be\nhard people to deal with. It took them a long time to make up their\nminds how much ivory ought to be given for one of the guns Uncle Dick\noffered them, and when that point had been settled, the chief suddenly\nfound out that there was no ivory in the village, and that he would have\nto send and bring it before any trading could be done. Upon hearing\nthis, Uncle Dick inspanned at once and set out for the coast; but before\nhe had gone many miles he was overtaken by a messenger from the chief,\nwho told him that if he would return to the village he should have an\nelephant\u2019s tooth for every gun he had to sell. The travellers turned\nback, and after that there was little delay in the trading. The\nelephants\u2019 teeth came in rapidly, the last gun was finally disposed of,\nand when the ivory had been packed away in the wagon, and guides and\nservants engaged, the travellers were ready to turn their faces\nhomeward.\n\nThe last night they were to pass among the Griquas was spent by the boys\nin doing a little trading on their own account. They were strolling\nabout, taking a last look at everything, and exchanging a few beads, and\nsome brass and copper wire, for spears and war-clubs, when their\nattention was attracted by a commotion which suddenly arose in the upper\nend of the town. The boys looked up, and were surprised to see that the\nnatives were running about in the greatest alarm, catching up whatever\narticles of value they could lay their hands on, and then dodging into\ntheir hovels and barricading their doors after them. Some of the more\ntimid ones, having collected their property, took to their heels, and\nran across the plain as if a pack of jackals were after them.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s up now?\u201d asked Archie. \u201cI don\u2019t see anything to frighten them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho are those coming there?\u201d said Frank.\n\nThe others looked in the direction he pointed, and saw a long line of\nwarriors rising over the nearest hill. While they were looking at them,\nwondering who they were and what had brought them there, they heard\nUncle Dick calling to them. \u201cHere\u2019s more trouble, boys,\u201d said the old\nsailor. \u201cI don\u2019t want to alarm you, but it is always well to be prepared\nfor the worst.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs the village going to be attacked?\u201d asked Frank.\n\n\u201cOh, no. These are Zulus, and they are probably a delegation sent by\ntheir king to take us to that country.\u201d\n\n\u201cAcross the desert where the wild Bushmen live?\u201d exclaimed Eugene.\n\n\u201cExactly,\u201d replied Uncle Dick.\n\n\u201cBut we have nothing they want,\u201d said Walter. \u201cWe\u2019ve sold all our guns,\nbeads, and wire.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen tell them so when they come up.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat good will it do? Haven\u2019t you seen enough of these natives to know\nthat you can\u2019t reason with them any more than you can reason with a\nstone?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat made the Griquas run so,\u201d asked Bob.\n\n\u201cOh, these Zulus are a fierce and warlike race, and the Griquas are\nafraid of them. But they are after us now. If their leader has orders to\ntake us back with him, he\u2019ll have to do it or lose his head when he gets\nhome.\u201d\n\nThis was a most alarming piece of news. The driver had said so much\nabout the wild Bushmen and their poisoned arrows, and had given so\ngraphic a description of the desert they lived in, where there was no\ngame to be found, and no grass or water for the stock, that the boys\nwere frightened whenever they thought of the dangers that must attend\nevery step of the journey to the Zulu country. While they were turning\nthe matter over in their minds, the warriors marched through the\nprincipal street of the village, which was by this time entirely\ndeserted, and stopped in front of Uncle Dick\u2019s tent. There were probably\na hundred and fifty of them in the band. They were fine-looking men\nphysically, and all except two were armed with spears and war-clubs, and\ncarried shields of elephant\u2019s hide. Those who were not armed followed\nclose behind the leader, and carried two elephants\u2019 tusks upon their\nshoulders.\n\nThe leader of the warriors stopped in front of Uncle Dick, and after\nlaying down his shield and weapons began a speech, which would no doubt\nhave proved very entertaining to the travellers if they could have\nunderstood it; but as the chief spoke in his native tongue his words did\nnot make much of an impression upon them. The speech occupied the best\npart of ten minutes, and when it was concluded the men with the\nelephants\u2019 tusks stepped up and laid them on the ground in front of\nUncle Dick, and when they straightened up again one of them began to\ninterpret the speech in Dutch. Then the boys listened with some\ninterest. They had learned enough of this language during their\nintercourse with Mack and the Griquas, to carry on quite a lengthy\nconversation with any one who spoke slowly and distinctly. The native\ndid neither, but still the Club caught enough of his speech to satisfy\nthem that Uncle Dick had not been mistaken in regard to the object the\nZulus had in view in visiting his camp. The speaker said that his king,\nwho lived on the other side of the desert, was a very powerful monarch,\nand having heard that there was an English trader in the neighborhood\n(the natives seemed to think that every white man who came into their\ncountry to hunt and trade must of necessity be an Englishman), he had\nsent him and his companions to conduct him to their principal town,\nwhere there was ivory enough to fill a dozen wagons. To prove it the\nking had sent the trader two elephants\u2019 teeth, in exchange for which he\nexpected to receive the best double-barrel there was in the party. The\nfaithful warriors who brought these teeth were hungry and thirsty, for\nthey had travelled far and rapidly, and the Englishman must furnish them\nwith meat to eat and tea to drink.\n\nUncle Dick\u2019s reply to this insolent demand was short and to the point.\nThere was not meat enough in his wagon to feed so large a party, he\nsaid, and he could not spend time to hunt for it, for having sold all\nhis guns he had made ready to start for Grahamstown early the next\nmorning; so the warriors might take their elephant\u2019s teeth and go back\nas they came. The interpreter seemed to be greatly shocked at this\nreply, and tried to remonstrate with Uncle Dick, telling him that he was\nrunning a great risk in defying his king in that way. But the old sailor\nrepeated what he had said, adding that as he was a licensed trader, he\nwas free to go and come when he pleased, and he intended to exercise the\nprivilege.\n\nThe chief listened impatiently while this conversation was going on, and\nwhen it was ended turned to the interpreter to hear Uncle Dick\u2019s reply.\nIt threw him into an awful rage at once. He stamped his feet on the\nground, caught up handfuls of dust and threw them into the air above his\nhead, swung his arms wildly about, and shouted at the top of his voice.\nThe longer he talked the angrier he seemed to grow; and what he might\nhave been led to do had he been allowed to go on until his rage boiled\nover, it is hard to tell; but just as he was working himself up to the\nfighting-point, he was interrupted most unexpectedly. A series of\nterrific Indian yells, so loud and piercing that they completely drowned\nthe chief\u2019s voice, suddenly arose on the air, causing the warrior to\ndrop his arms and stand motionless with amazement. Of course the yells\ncame from Dick Lewis. He thought from the looks of things that a fight\nwould soon be in progress, and began preparing for it in a manner\npeculiar to himself. He dashed his hat upon the ground, pulled off his\nhunting shirt and sent it after the hat, and began to loosen his joints\nby making the most extraordinary leaps and contortions, yelling the\nwhile with all the power of his lungs. The chief looked at him for a few\nseconds, and then hastily gathering up his weapons, made off, followed\nby his men, who fled in such haste that they never thought to take the\nelephants\u2019 teeth with them. In two minutes from the time Dick began his\nleaping and shouting there was not one of them in sight.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER XVII.\n CONCLUSION.\n\n\nThe Club stood speechless with astonishment, and so did the trapper.\nUncle Dick was the first to break the silence, which he did by laughing\nlong and heartily. \u201cYou have made a reputation now, Lewis,\u201d said he.\n\u201cThese natives are all firm believers in witchcraft, and they think you\nare a medicine-man.\u201d\n\nThis was the reason why the Zulus had fled in such hot haste. They had\nnever seen a white man dressed as Dick was, and neither had they ever\nseen one act so strangely. It struck them at once that he was a\nconjuror, and that he was going through some sort of an incantation for\nthe purpose of bringing some dire calamity upon his foes.\n\n\u201cI think we have seen the last of them for to-night,\u201d continued Uncle\nDick. \u201cNow when we resume our journey we must make all haste, for when\nthese fellows go back to their own country their king will send an army\nafter us, and Dick may not be able to frighten them away again.\u201d\n\nAs soon as the Zulus were gone the Griquas came out of their\nhiding-places and gathered about the tent, all clamoring to know how it\nhappened that the dreaded enemy had been driven off so easily. When\nUncle Dick gravely informed them that his conjuror had found means to\nsend them away, their gratitude knew no bounds. Then most of them\ndispersed at once, and when they returned, brought presents of milk and\ncorn\u2014articles for which they had hitherto demanded the highest prices in\nbeads and wire\u2014and tremblingly placed them on the ground before the\ngreat medicine-man. Groups of them stood about the fire until ten\no\u2019clock that night, watching every move he made; and Dick had only to\nstand erect, look toward the stars, extend an arm at full length and\npull the other back to his shoulder as if he were drawing a bow, to send\nthem scampering away at the top of their speed.\n\nThe next morning the travellers were astir at an early hour, all eager\nto begin the journey to the coast; but now another difficulty was\npresented. The Griquas who had been engaged to fill the places of the\nKaffirs were nowhere to be found. The boys were dismayed, but Uncle Dick\nwas as serene as usual. \u201cI expected it,\u201d said he. \u201cThey were frightened\nby that visit from the Zulus. We must depend upon the oxen to guide us\nback.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo they know the way home?\u201d asked George.\n\n\u201cNo, but they made a trail coming here, and their instinct will lead\nthem to follow that trail back.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, it must be obliterated by this time.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo matter for that. They will find and follow it in the darkest of\nnights.\u201d\n\nInspanning was a task the boys did not like, and they hoped they had\nassisted in it for the last time; but as there was no one to do the\nbusiness for them they set to work with a will, and by ten o\u2019clock the\nwagon was in motion. Contrary to their expectations, not a Griqua\nfollowed them out of the village. They were afraid of the Zulus, and so\nwas Uncle Dick, if one might judge by the way he disposed of his forces,\nand the arrangements he made for repelling an attack. He and Frank went\non ahead as usual, the two trappers brought up the rear\u2014there were no\nloose cattle and horses to drive now\u2014and the others rode beside the\nwagon, Eugene being instructed in case of difficulty to take his brother\nup behind him. The travellers moved in this order until the middle of\nthe afternoon, when they entered the dry bed of what had once been a\nstream of considerable magnitude. The high banks on each side were\nthickly lined with bushes and rocks, affording excellent ambush for an\nenemy, and as the bed of the stream was only forty feet wide, and the\nroad ran through the middle of it, it was impossible for the travellers\nto get out of range of the javelins of the Zulus should they chance to\nbe awaiting them here. And they were waiting for them, just as Uncle\nDick expected they would be. The chief of the Zulus, having recovered\nfrom his fright, had made a wide detour around the village during the\nnight, and concealed his warriors along the banks of the stream among\nthe rocks and bushes. When the passage was about half completed he made\nhis presence known. The signal for attack was a loud yell given by the\nchief, who suddenly appeared on the top of one of the high rocks on the\nbank; but no sooner had he gained a footing there, than a bullet from\nBob Kelly\u2019s ready rifle brought him headlong into the bed of the stream.\nHis warriors however, promptly obeyed the signal. They arose from their\nconcealments on both sides of the road, and the way the spears whistled\nthrough the air for a few minutes was surprising. The majority of these\nweapons seemed to be aimed at the two trappers\u2014the warriors, no doubt,\nbelieving that if the conjuror could be killed the rest of the\ntravellers could be easily managed\u2014and it was a wonder how they escaped\nbeing pierced by them. Their horses were struck down almost instantly,\nbut the trappers landed on their feet, and sheltering themselves behind\nconvenient rocks in the road, opened a hot fire on the savages.\n\nAll these things happened in less than a minute. Although the attack was\nnot altogether unexpected, it was still a surprise, it was made so\nsuddenly. As soon as Uncle Dick had time to think he began to issue his\norders.\n\n\u201cLeave the wagon, boys,\u201d said he, \u201cand run for that high hill you see\nyonder.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome on, Dick,\u201d shouted Archie, slinging his empty Maynard on his back\nand drawing his pistols from their holsters.\n\n\u201cLewis, you and Bob stay where you are,\u201d commanded Uncle Dick. \u201cYou\u2019re\nsafe there, and in a few minutes we shall be in a position to help you.\u201d\n\nThe boys, led by Uncle Dick, at once put their horses into a full\ngallop. Walter, who was seated on the driver\u2019s box, springing up behind\nhis brother, and Frank bringing up the rear, carrying a revolver in each\nhand, and banging away every time he saw a head to fire at. The oxen,\nfrightened by the shouting and the noise of the firearms, tried to\nfollow, but three of them had already been killed in the yoke, and the\nleaders turning back upon those in the rear, the team became mixed up in\nthe greatest confusion.\n\nFrank was astonished at the force with which the Zulus threw their\nspears. They did not throw them very accurately, for the reason that\nthey were so very much afraid of the bullets which rattled about among\nthe rocks, that they did not spend an instant in poising their weapons\nbefore they launched them; but they sent them through the air with great\nspeed, and those which struck the oxen and horses made wounds that were\nalmost instantly fatal. Presently Frank was given further proof that\nthey were terrible weapons in the hands of those who knew how to use\nthem. Archie, who was galloping along in front of him, mounted on the\nsplendid animal which he had paraded before his cousin when the latter\ndrew the ungainly beast he was then riding, suddenly came to the ground\nall in a heap. Frank drew up on the instant, and the utmost horror was\ndepicted on his countenance as he threw himself from his saddle and\nkneeled by his cousin\u2019s side. As he did so a spear whistled through the\nair and buried itself in the sand beside him, but he paid no attention\nto it. His thoughts were wholly wrapped up in his cousin, who set his\nfears at rest by saying, cheerfully,\n\n\u201cI\u2019m all right, but I\u2019ve lost my horse at last. Did you see that spear\ngo through his neck? He has fallen on my leg, and I\u2014Oh, Frank!\u201d\n\nThe latter, who had seized his cousin by the shoulders, and was exerting\nall his strength to pull him to his feet, suddenly released his hold and\nfell by Archie\u2019s side. At the same time there was a whistling sound in\nthe air, and Archie looked up to see the shaft of a spear quivering in\nthe air above his cousin\u2019s side, the point being out of sight. It looked\nas though it was buried in Frank\u2019s body, but fortunately it was not. It\nhad passed through the haversack in which he carried the cartridges for\nhis Maynard, and was thrown with sufficient force to carry him to the\nground. The next moment the grim warrior who launched the weapon came\ntumbling heels over head down the bank, while a triumphant shout from\nDick Lewis told the cousins who it was that sent him there.\n\n\u201cIt is hot about here, Frank. You had better take care of yourself,\u201d\nsaid Archie.\n\nThe only notice Frank took of this friendly advice was to jump to his\nfeet and renew his efforts to release his cousin. This time he was\nsuccessful, but when he lifted him to his feet Archie found that he\ncould not stand alone. That, however, was a matter of small moment\nseeing that Frank had a horse close by. The animal had remained\nmotionless where his rider left him, and it was the work of but a few\nseconds for Frank to jump into the saddle and pull his cousin up after\nhim. This done, he put the animal to the top of his speed, and the two\nwere carried safely down the ravine and into the midst of their friends,\nwho having reached the hill of which Uncle Dick had spoken, were in a\nposition to drive the Zulus from the field. Having a cross-fire upon\nthem they had complete command of their position, and one volley was all\nthat was needed to send them flying up the hill on each side of the\nravine.\n\nAs soon as the Zulus were out of sight the trappers arose from their\nconcealments, and having removed the saddles and bridles from their dead\nsteeds and thrown them into the wagon, they proceeded to put the train\nin motion, Uncle Dick and his party keeping up a steady fire all the\nwhile to prevent the return of the savages. While Bob cut the dead oxen\nloose from the yokes, Dick forced the leaders back into their places,\nand when the animals had been made to understand what was required of\nthem, they brought the wagon up the hill in safety. It was a lucky fight\ntaken altogether. The Zulus must have suffered severely; the trappers\nsaid they had seen a dozen or more of them tumble into the ravine, while\nall the travellers lost were three oxen and as many horses. Frank had\nhad a very narrow escape. The weapon which had so nearly ended his\nexistence was packed carefully away in the wagon with the haversack\nstill fast to it. He intended that these articles should some day occupy\na prominent place among the curiosities in his room at the cottage.\n\nThe misfortunes which had thus far followed the travellers seemed to end\nwith that fight. From that time forward things worked as smoothly as\ncould be desired. Fortune first smiled upon them the next morning when\nthe Griquas, who had been engaged to accompany them to the coast,\nentered the camp. The Zulus having been whipped and driven out of the\ncountry, they were no longer afraid to fulfil their contract. Walter was\nglad to see them, for he was tired of acting as driver, and so were the\nrest of the boys, for they were relieved of the task of inspanning. They\npassed back through the Boer settlement, and here another surprise\nawaited them. The Dutchmen having had time to recover their good-nature\nwere in the humor for trading, and at every farm they visited some of\nthe goods, which they thought they would have to carry back to\nGrahamstown with them, were exchanged for fat cattle. Long before they\nreached the coast their stock was exhausted, there was a drove of eighty\noxen following behind the wagon, and those of the party who had lost\ntheir horses were remounted on animals purchased from the Boers.\nEverything was disposed of at a fair profit, so that the expedition,\nwhich at first threatened to end in failure, turned out much better than\nthey had ever hoped it would.\n\nUncle Dick\u2019s first care, when he reached the coast, was to inquire for\nhis runaway driver, of whom he had heard at several farm-houses along\nthe route. He found that the man had been in Grahamstown, and that he\nhad sold a horse and gun there; but they were not the same that he had\nstolen from his employer. Mack was much too smart for that. He had\ntraded off Uncle Dick\u2019s horse and gun at the first opportunity, sold\nthose he received in exchange, and used the money to carry him out of\nthe country. Uncle Dick\u2019s gun had probably been left with some Boer a\nthousand miles back in the interior; but of course it would not pay to\ngo back after it.\n\nWhen the last ox, the last pound of ivory, and the last article\ncomposing their outfit had been disposed of, the party went on board the\nschooner in high spirits; and at the turn of the tide the anchor was\nhoisted not to be dropped again, they fondly hoped, until they sailed\ninto the bay at the rear of Mr. Gaylord\u2019s plantation. Nothing happened\nto mar the pleasure of the homeward voyage. Propelled by favoring\nbreezes the Stranger sped merrily on her way, and the topsails were\nscarcely touched from the day they took their departure from the Cape of\nGood Hope until land was sighted on the other side of the Atlantic. The\nfirst familiar object they saw was Lost Island, which would ever be\nmemorable in the history of the Sportsman\u2019s Club, and the next was the\nvillage of Bellville. As the schooner sailed along past the town\u2014the\nwind being favorable she did not signal for a tug to tow her in\u2014her\nappearance attracted the attention of the people on the wharves, who\ngazed at her with great interest. There were some among them who had\nnever seen her before, while others thought there was something about\nher that looked familiar, but they could not tell who she was. The\nClub\u2019s friends had learned from Chase and Wilson that the Stranger was\nhomeward bound, but they did not look for her so soon, and not one on\nthe wharf could call her by name until they saw her round the point\nabove the village and shape her course towards Mr. Gaylord\u2019s wharf. Then\nit was too late to welcome her.\n\nWhen the schooner rounded the point the Gaylord mansion and all its\nsurroundings came plainly into view. The family did not seem to be on\nthe lookout for her, but they were quickly made aware of her arrival.\nThe twenty-four pounders, whose voices had not been heard since they\nspoke so emphatically to the inhabitants of that island away off in the\nPacific, awoke the echoes of the hills, and when the breeze carried away\nthe smoke that rolled up from their muzzles, some one was seen running\nalong the carriageway that led from the barn to the house. It was old\nSam. He was gone but a few minutes, and when he returned he was\naccompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord. The schooner stood as close in to\nthe jetty as the depth of the water would permit, and then dropped her\nanchor. Before it had fairly touched the bottom the gig was in the\nwater, and Uncle Dick and the Club were on their way to the shore.\n\nOf course, a perfect round of festivities followed the return of the\nwanderers, and the happy Christmas times were repeated. It was a week\nbefore George Le Dell and the cousins could tear themselves away from\nthe hospitable Gaylord mansion. The rickety stage-coach carried them to\nNew Orleans, and when they had taken leave of the trappers and seen them\nsafely on board a steamer bound for St. Louis, they took passage on\nboard a Washita River boat, and the next time they set foot ashore it\nwas in front of George\u2019s home. There the cousins remained another\nweek\u2014Archie would have been glad to prolong the stay indefinitely\u2014and\nthen started for Lawrence, where they arrived in due time, their voyage\naround the world being happily terminated.\n\nNow, reader, the story of the Club\u2019s adventures and exploits is ended,\nand before bidding them and you farewell, it only remains for us to tell\nwhere they are now, and what they have been doing since we last saw\nthem. It is a true saying, that the boy is father to the man; and from\nwhat we know of our heroes, it is safe to predict that the virtues of\nmanliness, truthfulness and fidelity which have ruled their lives in the\npast will always be strictly adhered to. Frank Nelson has not yet made\nanything more than a local reputation, but that he is sure to do it some\nday his friends all feel confident. He is a practicing lawyer in his\nnative State. He is as fond of his fishing-rod and double-barrel as he\never was, and spends a portion of each summer at the Rangeley Lakes and\namong the Adirondacks. If he ever goes into politics, as his friends are\nurging him to do, it is to be hoped that he will use his influence and\neloquence to correct some of the abuses that are now so prevalent. His\nhome is still at Lawrence, where his mother resides. Archie Winters,\nshortly after his return from abroad, became a student at a certain\npolytechnic institute. He settled down to business with the\ndetermination to make a man and a civil engineer of himself. He\ngraduated with honors, stepped at once into a responsible and lucrative\nposition, and the cards of invitation that were sent out a few months\nago show what he was working for. Archie is married now, and General Le\nDell and his family go North every summer to visit him and his wife.\nHenry Chase and Leonard Wilson have purchased an orange plantation in\nFlorida, and report says they are respected and successful men.\n\nFred Craven is a first lieutenant in the revenue service; and when he\nbecomes a captain, as he probably will before another year has passed\nover his head, we should like to see any smuggler outwit him as Mr. Bell\noutwitted the captain of the cutter who overhauled the Banner once upon\na time, and made her captain and crew prisoners. Jasper Babcock is a\ncommission merchant and cotton factor in Bellville; George Le Dell, who\nis Archie\u2019s brother-in-law, is in the same business in Memphis; Phil\nPerkins owns a controlling interest in a line of steamers plying between\nNew Orleans and Galveston; and Walter and Eugene are carrying on their\nfather\u2019s extensive plantation, Mr. Gaylord having retired from active\nbusiness. Of course they live at home\u2014there is no place in the world\nlike home, they think\u2014and so does Uncle Dick, whose cabin is as much a\nplace of resort for the young men of the vicinity as it used to be for\nthe boys. The Banner is still in existence, and as for the Stranger,\nUncle Dick says she is as good as she ever was, and still able to beat\nanything of her size that floats.\n\nThe intercourse between the cousins and the Sportsman\u2019s Club which was\nbrought about almost by accident, has never been interrupted. This\nacquaintance quickly ripened into friendship, which will be as lasting\nas life itself. Many a grand reunion have they had since they returned\nfrom abroad; and of all the adventures of which they have been the\nheroes, none occupy a more prominent place in their memories or are so\noften discussed as those that befell them while they were sojourning\nAMONG THE BOERS.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n FAMOUS CASTLEMON BOOKS.\n\n\n =GUNBOAT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 6 vols. 12mo.\n\n FRANK THE YOUNG NATURALIST.\n FRANK IN THE WOODS.\n FRANK ON THE LOWER MISSISSIPPI.\n FRANK ON A GUNBOAT.\n FRANK BEFORE VICKSBURG.\n FRANK ON THE PRAIRIE.\n\n =ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo.\n Cloth.\n\n FRANK AMONG THE RANCHEROS.\n FRANK IN THE MOUNTAINS.\n FRANK AT DON CARLOS\u2019 RANCH.\n\n =SPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo.\n Cloth.\n\n THE SPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB IN THE SADDLE.\n THE SPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB AFLOAT.\n THE SPORTSMAN\u2019S CLUB AMONG THE TRAPPERS.\n\n =FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.\n\n SNOWED UP.\n FRANK IN THE FORECASTLE.\n THE BOY TRADERS.\n\n =BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.\n\n THE BURIED TREASURE.\n THE BOY TRAPPER.\n THE MAIL-CARRIER.\n\n =ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.\n\n GEORGE IN CAMP.\n GEORGE AT THE WHEEL.\n GEORGE AT THE FORT.\n\n =ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.\n\n DON GORDON\u2019S SHOOTING BOX.\n THE YOUNG WILD FOWLERS.\n ROD AND GUN CLUB.\n\n =GO-AHEAD SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.\n\n TOM NEWCOMBE.\n GO-AHEAD.\n NO MOSS.\n\n =FOREST AND STREAM SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 3 vols. 12mo.\n Cloth.\n\n JOE WAYRING.\n SNAGGED AND SUNK.\n STEEL HORSE.\n\n =WAR SERIES.= By HARRY CASTLEMON. 5 vols. 12mo. Cloth.\n\n TRUE TO HIS COLORS.\n RODNEY THE OVERSEER.\n MARCY THE REFUGEE.\n RODNEY THE PARTISAN.\n MARCY THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER.\n\n _Other Volumes in Preparation._\n\n * * * * *\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by\n\n R. W. CARROLL & CO.,\n\n In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Moved the advertising page from after the title page to\n the end.\n 2. Silently corrected typographical errors.\n 3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as\n printed.\n 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.\n 5. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Traders, by Harry Castlemon\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Gary Rees and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was\nproduced from scanned images of public domain material\nfrom the Google Print project.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n OUR REVOLUTION\n\n Essays on Working-Class and International Revolution, 1904-1917\n\n BY\n LEON TROTZKY\n\n\n Collected and Translated, with Biography and Explanatory Notes\n\n BY\n MOISSAYE J. OLGIN\n Author of \"The Soul of the Russian Revolution\"\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n NEW YORK\n HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY\n 1918\n\n\n\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1918,\n BY\n HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY\n\n\n Published March, 1918\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe world has not known us Russian revolutionists. The world has\nsympathized with us; the world abroad has given aid and comfort to our\nrefugees; the world, at times, even admired us; yet the world has not\nknown us. Friends of freedom in Europe and America were keenly anxious\nto see the victory of our cause; they watched our successes and our\ndefeats with breathless interest; yet they were concerned with material\nresults. Our views, our party affiliations, our factional divisions, our\ntheoretical gropings, our ideological constructions, to us the leading\nlights in our revolutionary struggles, were foreign to the world. All\nthis was supposed to be an internal Russian affair.\n\nThe Revolution has now ceased to be an internal Russian affair. It has\nbecome of world-wide import. It has started to influence governments and\npeoples. What was not long ago a theoretical dispute between two\n\"underground\" revolutionary circles, has grown into a concrete\nhistorical power determining the fate of nations. What was the\nindividual conception of individual revolutionary leaders is now ruling\nmillions.\n\nThe world is now vitally interested in understanding Russia, in learning\nthe history of our Revolution which is the history of the great Russian\nnation for the last fifty years. This involves, however, knowing not\nonly events, but also the development of thoughts, of aims, of ideas\nthat underlie and direct events; gaining an insight into the immense\nvolume of intellectual work which recent decades have accumulated in\nrevolutionary Russia.\n\nWe have selected Leon Trotzky's contribution to revolutionary thought,\nnot because he is now in the limelight of history, but because his\nconceptions represent a very definite, a clear-cut and intrinsically\nconsistent trend of revolutionary thought, quite apart from that of\nother leaders. We do not agree with many of Trotzky's ideas and\npolicies, yet we cannot overlook the fact that these ideas have become\npredominant in the present phase of the Russian Revolution and that they\nare bound to give their stamp to Russian democracy in the years to come,\nwhether the present government remains in power or not.\n\nThe reader will see that Trotzky's views as applied in Bolsheviki ruled\nRussia are not of recent origin. They were formed in the course of the\nFirst Russian Revolution of 1905, in which Trotzky was one of the\nleaders. They were developed and strengthened in the following years of\nreaction, when many a progressive group went to seek compromises with\nthe absolutist forces. They became particularly firm through the world\nwar and the circumstances that led to the establishment of a republican\norder in Russia. Perhaps many a grievous misunderstanding and\nmisinterpretation would have been avoided had thinking America known\nthat those conceptions of Trotzky were not created on the spur of the\nmoment, but were the result of a life-long work in the service of the\nRevolution.\n\nTrotzky's writings, besides their theoretical and political value,\nrepresent a vigor of style and a clarity of expression unique in Russian\nrevolutionary literature.\n\nM.J. OLGIN.\n\nNew York, February 16th, 1918.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\n\n Biographical Notes 3\n\n The Proletariat and the Revolution 23\n\n The Events in Petersburg 47\n\n Prospects of a Labor Dictatorship 63\n\n The Soviet and the Revolution 147\n\n Preface to _My Round Trip_ 163\n\n The Lessons of the Great Year 169\n\n On the Eve of a Revolution 179\n\n Two Faces 187\n\n The Growing Conflict 199\n\n War or Peace? 205\n\n Trotzky on the Platform in Petrograd 213\n\n\n\n\nLEON TROTZKY\n\nBIOGRAPHICAL NOTES\n\n\nTrotzky is a man of about forty. He is tall, strong, angular; his\nappearance as well as his speech give the impression of boldness and\nvigor. His voice is a high tenor ringing with metal. And even in his\nquiet moments he resembles a compressed spring.\n\nHe is always aggressive. He is full of passion,--that white-hot,\nvibrating mental passion that characterizes the intellectual Jew. On the\nplatform, as well as in private life, he bears an air of peculiar\nimportance, an indefinable something that says very distinctly: \"Here is\na man who knows his value and feels himself chosen for superior aims.\"\nYet Trotzky is not imposing. He is almost modest. He is detached. In the\ndepths of his eyes there is a lingering sadness.\n\nIt was only natural that he, a gifted college youth with a strong\navidity for theoretical thinking, should have exchanged, some twenty\nyears ago, the somber class-rooms of the University of Odessa for the\nfresh breezes of revolutionary activity. That was the way of most gifted\nRussian youths. That especially was the way of educated young Jews whose\npeople were being crushed under the steam-roller of the Russian\nbureaucracy.\n\nIn the last years of the nineteenth century there was hardly enough\nopportunity to display unusual energy in revolutionary work. Small\ncircles of picked workingmen, assembling weekly under great secrecy\nsomewhere in a backyard cabin in a suburb, to take a course in sociology\nor history or economics; now and then a \"mass\" meeting of a few score\nlaborers gathered in the woods; revolutionary appeals and pamphlets\nprinted on a secret press and circulated both among the educated classes\nand among the people; on rare occasions, an open manifestation of\nrevolutionary intellectuals, such as a meeting of students within the\nwalls of the University--this was practically all that could be done in\nthose early days of Russian revolution. Into this work of preparation,\nTrotzky threw himself with all his energy. Here he came into the closest\ncontact with the masses of labor. Here he acquainted himself with the\npsychology and aspirations of working and suffering Russia. This was the\nrich soil of practical experience that ever since has fed his\nrevolutionary ardor.\n\nHis first period of work was short. In 1900 we find him already in\nsolitary confinement in the prisons of Odessa, devouring book after book\nto satisfy his mental hunger. No true revolutionist was ever made\ndownhearted by prison, least of all Trotzky, who knew it was a brief\ninterval of enforced idleness between periods of activity. After two and\na half years of prison \"vacation\" (as the confinement was called in\nrevolutionary jargon) Trotzky was exiled to Eastern Siberia, to Ust-Kut,\non the Lena River, where he arrived early in 1902, only to seize the\nfirst opportunity to escape.\n\nAgain he resumed his work, dividing his time between the revolutionary\ncommittees in Russia and the revolutionary colonies abroad. 1902 and\n1903 were years of growth for the labor movement and of\nSocial-Democratic influence over the working masses. Trotzky, an\nuncompromising Marxist, an outspoken adherent of the theory that only\nthe revolutionary workingmen would be able to establish democracy in\nRussia, devoted much of his energy to the task of uniting the various\nSocial-Democratic circles and groups in the various cities of Russia\ninto one strong Social-Democratic Party, with a clear program and\nwell-defined tactics. This required a series of activities both among\nthe local committees and in the Social-Democratic literature which was\nconveniently published abroad.\n\nIt was in connection with this work that Trotzky's first pamphlet was\npublished and widely read. It was entitled: _The Second Convention of\nThe Russian Social-Democratic Labor Party_ (Geneva, 1903), and dealt\nwith the controversies between the two factions of Russian\nSocial-Democracy which later became known as the Bolsheviki and the\nMensheviki. Trotzky's contribution was an attempt at reconciliation\nbetween the two warring camps which professed the same Marxian theory\nand pursued the same revolutionary aim. The attempt failed, as did many\nothers, yet Trotzky never gave up hope of uniting the alienated\nbrothers.\n\nOn the eve of the Revolution of 1905, Trotzky was already a\nrevolutionary journalist of high repute. We admired the vigor of his\nstyle, the lucidity of his thought and the straightness of his\nexpression. Articles bearing the pseudonym \"N. Trotzky\" were an\nintellectual treat, and invariably aroused heated discussions. It may\nnot be out of place to say a few words about this pseudonym. Many an\namazing comment has been made in the American press on the Jew Bronstein\n\"camouflaging\" under a Russian name, Trotzky. It seems to be little\nknown in this country that to assume a pen name is a practice widely\nfollowed in Russia, not only among revolutionary writers. Thus \"Gorki\"\nis a pseudonym; \"Shchedrin\" (Saltykov) is a pseudonym. \"Fyodor Sologub\"\nis a pseudonym. As to revolutionary writers, the very character of their\nwork has compelled them to hide their names to escape the secret police.\nUlyanov, therefore, became \"Lenin,\" and Bronstein became \"Trotzky.\" As\nto his \"camouflaging\" as a Russian, this assertion is based on sheer\nignorance. Trotzky is not a genuine Russian name--no more so than\nOstrovski or Levine. True, there was a Russian playwright Ostrovski, and\nTolstoi gave his main figure in _Anna Karenin_ the name of Levine. Yet\nOstrovski and Levine are well known in Russia as Jewish names, and so is\nTrotzky. I have never heard of a Gentile bearing the name Trotzky.\nTrotzky has never concealed his Jewish nationality. He was too proud to\ndissimulate. Pride is, perhaps, one of the dominant traits of his\npowerful personality.\n\nRevolutionary Russia did not question the race or nationality of a\nwriter or leader. One admired Trotzky's power over emotion, the depth of\nhis convictions, the vehemence of his attacks on the opponents of the\nRevolution. As early as 1904, one line of his revolutionary conceptions\nbecame quite conspicuous: _his opposition to the liberal movement in\nRussia_. In a series of essays in the Social-Democratic _Iskra_\n(_Spark_), in a collection of his essays published in Geneva under the\ntitle _Before January Ninth_, he unremittingly branded the Liberals for\nlack of revolutionary spirit, for cowardice in face of a hateful\nautocracy, for failure to frame and to defend a thoroughly democratic\nprogram, for readiness to compromise with the rulers on minor\nconcessions and thus to betray the cause of the Revolution. No one else\nwas as eloquent, as incisive in pointing out the timidity and meekness\nof the Zemstvo opposition (Zemstvo were the local representative bodies\nfor the care of local affairs, and the Liberal land owners constituted\nthe leading party in those bodies) as the young revolutionary agitator,\nTrotzky. Trotzky's fury against the wavering policy of the well-to-do\nLiberals was only a manifestation of another trait of his character:\n_his desire for clarity in political affairs_. Trotzky could not\nconceive of half-way measures, of \"diplomatic\" silence over vital\ntopics, of cunning moves and concealed designs in political struggles.\nThe attitude of a Milukov, criticizing the government and yet willing to\nacquiesce in a monarchy of a Prussian brand, criticizing the\nrevolutionists and yet secretly pleased with the horror they inflicted\nupon Romanoff and his satellites, was simply incompatible with Trotzky's\nvery nature and aroused his impassioned contempt. To him, black was\nalways black, and white was white, and political conceptions ought to be\nso clear as to find adequate expression in a few simple phrases.\n\nTrotzky's own political line was the Revolution--a violent uprising of\nthe masses, headed by organized labor, forcibly to overthrow bureaucracy\nand establish democratic freedom. With what an outburst of blazing joy\nhe greeted the upheaval of January 9, 1905--the first great\nmass-movement in Russia with clear political aims: \"The Revolution has\ncome!\" he shouted in an ecstatic essay completed on January 20th. \"The\nRevolution has come. One move of hers has lifted the people over scores\nof steps, up which in times of peace we would have had to drag ourselves\nwith hardships and fatigue. The Revolution has come and destroyed the\nplans of so many politicians who had dared to make their little\npolitical calculations with no regard for the master, the revolutionary\npeople. The Revolution has come and destroyed scores of superstitions,\nand has manifested the power of the program which is founded on the\nrevolutionary logic of the development of the masses.... The Revolution\nhas come and the period of our infancy has passed.\"\n\nThe Revolution filled the entire year of 1905 with the battle cries of\never-increasing revolutionary masses. The political strike became a\npowerful weapon. The village revolts spread like wild-fire. The\ngovernment became frightened. It was under the sign of this great\nconflagration that Trotzky framed his theory of _immediate transition\nfrom absolutism to a Socialist order_. His line of argument was very\nsimple. The working class, he wrote, was the only real revolutionary\npower. The bourgeoisie was weak and incapable of adroit resistance. The\nintellectual groups were of no account. The peasantry was politically\nprimitive, yet it had an overwhelming desire for land. \"Once the\nRevolution is victorious, political power necessarily passes into the\nhands of the class that has played a leading role in the struggle, and\nthat is the working class.\" To secure permanent power, the working class\nwould have to win over the millions of peasants. This would be possible\nby recognizing all the agrarian changes completed by the peasants in\ntime of the revolution and by a radical agrarian legislation. \"Once in\npower, the proletariat will appear before the peasantry as its\nliberator.\" On the other hand, having secured its class rule over\nRussia, why should the proletariat help to establish parliamentary rule,\nwhich is the rule of the bourgeois classes over the people? \"To imagine\nthat Social-Democracy participates in the Provisional Government,\nplaying a leading role in the period of revolutionary democratic\nreconstruction, insisting on the most radical reforms and all the time\nenjoying the aid and support of the organized proletariat,--only to step\naside when the democratic program is put into operation, to leave the\ncompleted building at the disposal of the bourgeois parties and thus to\nopen an era of parliamentary politics where Social-Democracy forms only\na party of opposition,--to imagine this would mean to compromise the\nvery idea of a labor government.\" Moreover, \"once the representatives of\nthe proletariat enter the government, not as powerless hostages, but as\na leading force, the divide between the minimum-program and the\nmaximum-program automatically disappears, collectivism becomes the order\nof the day,\" since \"political supremacy of the proletariat is\nincompatible with its economic slavery.\" It was precisely the same\nprogram which Trotzky is at present attempting to put into operation.\nThis program has been his guiding star for the last twelve years.\n\nIn the fall of 1905 it looked as if Trotzky's hope was near its\nrealization. The October strike brought autocracy to its knees. A\nConstitution was promised. A Soviet (Council of Workmen's Deputies) was\nformed in Petersburg to conduct the Revolution. Trotzky became one of\nthe strongest leaders of the Council. It was in those months that we\nbecame fully aware of two qualities of Trotzky's which helped him to\nmaster men: his power as a speaker, and his ability to write short,\nstirring articles comprehensible to the masses. In the latter ability\nnobody equals him among Russian Socialists. The leaders of Russian\nSocial-Democracy were wont to address themselves to the intellectual\nreaders. Socialist writers of the early period of the Revolution were\nseldom confronted with the necessity of writing for plain people.\nTrotzky was the best among the few who, in the stormy months of the 1905\nrevolution, were able to appeal to the masses in brief, strong, yet\ndignified articles full of thought, vision, and emotion.\n\nThe Soviet was struggling in a desperate situation. Autocracy had\npromised freedom, yet military rule was becoming ever more atrocious.\nThe sluices of popular revolutionary movement were open, yet\nrevolutionary energy was being gradually exhausted. The Soviet acted as\na true revolutionary government, ignoring the government of the\nRomanoffs, giving orders to the workingmen of the country, keeping a\nwatchful eye on political events; yet the government of the old regime\nwas regaining its self-confidence and preparing for a final blow. The\nair was full of bad omens.\n\nIt required an unusual degree of revolutionary faith and vigor to\nconduct the affairs of the Soviet. Trotzky was the man of the hour.\nFirst a member of the Executive Committee, then the chairman of the\nSoviet, he was practically in the very vortex of the Revolution. He\naddressed meetings, he ordered strikes, he provided the vanguard of the\nworkingmen with firearms; he held conferences with representatives of\nlabor unions throughout the country, and--the irony of history--he\nrepeatedly appeared before the Ministers of the old regime as a\nrepresentative of labor democracy to demand from them the release of a\nprisoner or the abolition of some measures obnoxious to labor. It was in\nthis school of the Soviet that Trotzky learned to see events in a\nnational aspect, and it was the very existence of the Soviet which\nconfirmed his belief in the possibility of a revolutionary proletarian\ndictatorship. Looking backward at the activities of the Soviet, he thus\ncharacterized that prototype of the present revolutionary government in\nRussia. \"The Soviet,\" he wrote, \"was the organized authority of the\nmasses themselves over their separate members. This was a true,\nunadulterated democracy, without a two-chamber system, without a\nprofessional bureaucracy, with the right of the voters to recall their\nrepresentative at will and to substitute another.\" In short, it was the\nsame type of democracy Trotzky and Lenin are trying to make permanent in\npresent-day Russia.\n\nThe black storm soon broke loose. Trotzky was arrested with the other\nmembers of the \"revolutionary government,\" after the Soviet had existed\nfor about a month and a half. Trotzky went to prison, not in despair,\nbut as a leader of an invincible army which though it had suffered\ntemporary defeat, was bound to win. Trotzky had to wait twelve years for\nthe moment of triumph, yet the moment came.\n\nIn prison Trotzky was very active, reading, writing, trying to sum up\nhis experience of the revolutionary year. After twelve months of\nsolitary confinement he was tried and sentenced to life exile in\nSiberia: the government of the enemies of the people was wreaking\nvengeance on the first true representatives of the people. On January 3,\n1907, Trotzky started his trip for Obdorsk, in Northern Siberia on the\nArctic Ocean.\n\nHe was under unusual rigid surveillance even for Russian prisons. Each\nmovement of his and of his comrades was carefully guarded. No\ncommunication with the outer world was permitted. The very journey was\nsurrounded by great secrecy. Yet such was the fame of the Soviet, that\ncrowds gathered at every station to greet the prisoners' train, and even\nthe soldiers showed extraordinary respect for the imprisoned\n\"workingmen's deputies\" as they called them. \"We are surrounded by\nfriends on every side,\" Trotzky wrote in his note book.\n\nIn Tiumen the prisoners had to leave the railway train for sleighs\ndrawn by horses. The journey became very tedious and slow. The monotony\nwas broken only by little villages, where revolutionary exiles were\ndetained. Here and there the exiles would gather to welcome the leaders\nof the revolution. Red flags gave touches of color to the blinding white\nof the Siberian snow. \"Long live the Revolution!\" was printed with huge\nletters on the surface of the northern snow, along the road. This was\nbeautiful, but it gave little consolation. The country became ever more\ndesolate. \"Every day we move down one step into the kingdom of cold and\nwilderness,\" Trotzky remarked in his notes.\n\nIt was a gloomy prospect, to spend years and years in this God forsaken\ncountry. Trotzky was not the man to submit. In defiance of difficulties,\nhe managed to escape before he reached the town of his destination. As\nthere was only one road along which travelers could move, and as there\nwas danger that authorities, notified by wire of his escape, could stop\nhim at any moment, he left the road and on a sleigh drawn by reindeer he\ncrossed an unbroken wilderness of 800 versts, over 500 miles. This\nrequired great courage and physical endurance. The picturesque journey\nis described by Trotzky in a beautiful little book, _My Round Trip_.\n\nIt was in this Ostiak sleigh, in the midst of a bleak desert, that he\ncelebrated the 20th of February, the day of the opening of the Second\nDuma. It was a mockery at Russia: here, the representatives of the\npeople, assembled in the quasi-Parliament of Russia; there, a\nrepresentative of the Revolution that created the Duma, hiding like a\ncriminal in a bleak wilderness. Did he dream in those long hours of his\njourney, that some day the wave of the Revolution would bring him to the\nvery top?\n\nEarly in spring he arrived abroad. He established his home in Vienna\nwhere he lived till the outbreak of the great war. His time and energy\nwere devoted to the internal affairs of the Social-Democratic Party and\nto editing a popular revolutionary magazine which was being smuggled\ninto Russia. He earned a meager living by contributing to Russian\n\"legal\" magazines and dailies.\n\nI met him first in 1907, in Stuttgart. He seemed to be deeply steeped in\nthe revolutionary factional squabbles. Again I met him in Copenhagen in\n1910. He was the target of bitter criticism for his press-comment on one\nof the Social-Democratic factions. He seemed to be dead to anything but\nthe problem of reconciling the Bolsheviki with the Mensheviki and the\nother minor divisions. Yet that air of importance which distinguished\nhim even from the famous old leaders had, in 1910, become more apparent.\nBy this time he was already a well-known and respected figure in the\nranks of International Socialism.\n\nIn the fall of 1912 he went into the Balkans as a war correspondent.\nThere he learned to know the Balkan situation from authentic sources.\nHis revelations of the atrocities committed on both sides attracted wide\nattention. When he came back to Vienna in 1913 he was a stronger\ninternationalist and a stronger anti-militarist than ever.\n\nHis house in Vienna was a poor man's house, poorer than that of an\nordinary American workingman earning eighteen dollars a week. Trotzky\nhas been poor all his life. His three rooms in a Vienna working-class\nsuburb contained less furniture than was necessary for comfort. His\nclothes were too cheap to make him appear \"decent\" in the eyes of a\nmiddle-class Viennese. When I visited his house I found Mrs. Trotzky\nengaged in housework, while the two light-haired lovely boys were\nlending not inconsiderable assistance. The only thing that cheered the\nhouse were loads of books in every corner, and, perhaps, great though\nhidden hopes.\n\nOn August 3, 1914, the Trotzkys, as enemy aliens, had to leave Vienna\nfor Zurich, Switzerland. Trotzky's attitude towards the war was a very\ndefinite one from the very beginning. He accused German Social-Democracy\nfor having voted the war credits and thus endorsed the war. He accused\nthe Socialist parties of all the belligerent countries for having\nconcluded a truce with their governments which in his opinion was\nequivalent to supporting militarism. He bitterly deplored the collapse\nof Internationalism as a great calamity for the emancipation of the\nworld. Yet, even in those times of distress, he did not remain inactive.\nHe wrote a pamphlet to the German workingmen entitled _The War and\nInternationalism_ (recently translated into English and published in\nthis country under the title _The Bolsheviki and World Peace_) which was\nillegally transported into Germany and Austria by aid of Swiss\nSocialists. For this attempt to enlighten the workingmen, one of the\nGerman courts tried him in a state of contumacy and sentenced him to\nimprisonment. He also contributed to a Russian Socialist daily of\nInternationalist aspirations which was being published by Russian\nexiles in Paris. Later he moved to Paris to be in closer contact with\nthat paper. Due to his radical views on the war, however, he was\ncompelled to leave France. He went to Spain, but the Spanish government,\nthough not at war, did not allow him to stay in that country. He was\nhimself convinced that the hand of the Russian Foreign Ministry was in\nall his hardships.\n\nSo it happened that in the winter 1916-1917, he came to the United\nStates. When I met him here, he looked haggard; he had grown older, and\nthere was fatigue in his expression. His conversation hinged around the\ncollapse of International Socialism. He thought it shameful and\nhumiliating that the Socialist majorities of the belligerent countries\nhad turned \"Social-Patriots.\" \"If not for the minorities of the\nSocialist parties, the true Socialists, it would not be worth while\nliving,\" he said once with deep sadness. Still, he strongly believed in\nthe internationalizing spirit of the war itself, and expected humanity\nto become more democratic and more sound after cessation of hostilities.\nHis belief in an impending Russian Revolution was unshaken. Similarly\nunshaken was his mistrust of the Russian non-Socialist parties. On\nJanuary 20, 1917, less than two months before the overthrow of the\nRomanoffs, he wrote in a local Russian paper: \"Whoever thinks critically\nover the experience of 1905, whoever draws a line from that year to the\npresent day, must conceive how utterly lifeless and ridiculous are the\nhopes of our Social-Patriots for a revolutionary cooeperation between the\nproletariat and the Liberal bourgeoisie in Russia.\"\n\nHis demand for _clarity_ in political affairs had become more pronounced\nduring the war and through the distressing experiences of the war.\n\"There are times,\" he wrote on February 7, 1917, \"when diplomatic\nevasiveness, casting glances with one eye to the right, with the other\nto the left, is considered wisdom. Such times are now vanishing before\nour eyes, and their heroes are losing credit. War, as revolution, puts\nproblems in their clearest form. For war or against war? For national\ndefense or for revolutionary struggle? The fierce times we are living\nnow demand in equal measure both fearlessness of thought and bravery of\ncharacter.\"\n\nWhen the Russian Revolution broke out, it was no surprise for Trotzky.\nHe had anticipated it. He had scented it over the thousands of miles\nthat separated him from his country. He did not allow his joy to\novermaster him. The March revolution in his opinion was only a\nbeginning. It was only an introduction to a long drawn fight which would\nend in the establishment of Socialism.\n\nHistory seemed to him to have fulfilled what he had predicted in 1905\nand 1906. The working class was the leading power in the Revolution. The\nSoviets became even more powerful than the Provisional Government.\nTrotzky preached that it was the task of the Soviets to become _the_\ngovernment of Russia. It was his task to go to Russia and fight for a\nlabor government, for Internationalism, for world peace, for a world\nrevolution. \"If the first Russian revolution of 1905,\" he wrote on March\n20th, \"brought about revolutions in Asia,--in Persia, Turkey,\nChina,--the second Russian revolution will be the beginning of a\nmomentous Social-revolutionary struggle in Europe. Only this struggle\nwill bring real peace to the blood-drenched world.\"\n\nWith these hopes he went to Russia,--to forge a Socialist Russia in the\nfire of the Revolution.\n\nWhatever may be our opinion of the merits of his policies, the man has\nremained true to himself. His line has been straight.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PROLETARIAT AND THE REVOLUTION\n\n The essay _The Proletariat and the Revolution_ was published at the\n close of 1904, nearly one year after the beginning of the war with\n Japan. This was a crucial year for the autocratic rulers of Russia.\n It started with patriotic demonstrations, it ended with a series of\n humiliating defeats on the battlefields and with an unprecedented\n revival of political activities on the part of the well-to-do\n classes. The Zemstvos (local elective bodies for the care of local\n affairs) headed by liberal landowners, conducted a vigorous\n political campaign in favor of a constitutional order. Other\n liberal groups, organizations of professionals (referred to in\n Trotzky's essay as \"democrats\" and \"democratic elements\") joined in\n the movement. The Zemstvo leaders called an open convention in\n Petersburg (November 6th), which demanded civic freedom and a\n Constitution. The \"democratic elements\" organized public gatherings\n of a political character under the disguise of private banquets.\n The liberal press became bolder in its attack on the\n administration. The government tolerated the movement. Prince\n Svyatopolk-Mirski, who had succeeded Von Plehve, the reactionary\n dictator assassinated in July, 1904, by a revolutionist, had\n promised \"cordial relations\" between government and society. In the\n political jargon, this period of tolerance, lasting from August to\n the end of the year, was known as the era of \"Spring.\"\n\n It was a thrilling time, full of political hopes and expectation.\n Yet, strange enough, the working class was silent. The working\n class had shown great dissatisfaction in 1902 and especially in\n summer, 1903, when scores of thousands in the southwest and in the\n South went on a political strike. During the whole of 1904,\n however, there were almost no mass-manifestations on the part of\n the workingmen. This gave an occasion to many a liberal to scoff at\n the representatives of the revolutionary parties who built all\n their tactics on the expectation of a national revolution.\n\n To answer those skeptics and to encourage the active members of the\n Social-Democratic party, Trotzky wrote his essay. Its main value,\n which lends it historic significance, is the clear diagnosis of the\n political situation. Though living abroad, Trotzky keenly felt the\n pulse of the masses, the \"pent up revolutionary energy\" which was\n seeking for an outlet. His description of the course of a national\n revolution, the role he attributes to the workingmen, the\n non-proletarian population of the cities, the educated groups, and\n the army; his estimation of the influence of the war on the minds\n of the raw masses; finally, the slogans he puts before the\n revolution,--all this corresponds exactly to what happened during\n the stormy year of 1905. Reading _The Proletariat and the\n Revolution_, the student of Russian political life has a feeling\n as if the essay had been written _after_ the Revolution, so closely\n it follows the course of events. Yet, it appeared before January\n 9th, 1905, i.e., before the first great onslaught of the Petersburg\n proletariat.\n\n Trotzky's belief in the revolutionary initiative of the working\n class could not be expressed in a more lucid manner.\n\n\nThe proletariat must not only conduct a revolutionary propaganda. The\nproletariat itself must move towards a revolution.\n\nTo move towards a revolution does not necessarily mean to fix a date for\nan insurrection and to prepare for that day. You never can fix a day and\nan hour for a revolution. The people have never made a revolution by\ncommand.\n\nWhat _can_ be done is, in view of the fatally impending catastrophe, to\nchoose the most appropriate positions, to arm and inspire the masses\nwith a revolutionary slogan, to lead simultaneously all the reserves\ninto the field of battle, to make them practice in the art of fighting,\nto keep them ready under arms,--and to send an alarm all over the lines\nwhen the time has arrived.\n\nWould that mean a series of exercises only, and not a decisive combat\nwith the enemy forces? Would that be mere manoeuvers, and not a street\nrevolution?\n\nYes, that would be mere manoeuvers. There is a difference, however,\nbetween revolutionary and military manoeuvers. Our preparations can\nturn, at any time and independent of our will, into a real battle which\nwould decide the long drawn revolutionary war. Not only can it be so, it\n_must_ be. This is vouched for by the acuteness of the present political\nsituation which holds in its depths a tremendous amount of revolutionary\nexplosives.\n\nAt what time mere manoeuvers would turn into a real battle, depends\nupon the volume and the revolutionary compactness of the masses, upon\nthe atmosphere of popular sympathy which surrounds them and upon the\nattitude of the troops which the government moves against the people.\n\nThose three elements of success must determine our work of preparation.\nRevolutionary proletarian masses _are_ in existence. We ought to be able\nto call them into the streets, at a given time, all over the country; we\nought to be able to unite them by a general slogan.\n\nAll classes and groups of the people are permeated with hatred towards\nabsolutism, and that means with sympathy for the struggle for freedom.\nWe ought to be able to concentrate this sympathy on the proletariat as a\nrevolutionary power which alone can be the vanguard of the people in\ntheir fight to save the future of Russia. As to the mood of the army, it\nhardly kindles the heart of the government with great hopes. There has\nbeen many an alarming symptom for the last few years; the army is\nmorose, the army grumbles, there are ferments of dissatisfaction in the\narmy. We ought to do all at our command to make the army detach itself\nfrom absolutism at the time of a decisive onslaught of the masses.\n\nLet us first survey the last two conditions, which determine the course\nand the outcome of the campaign.\n\nWe have just gone through the period of \"political renovation\" opened\nunder the blare of trumpets and closed under the hiss of knouts,--the\nera of Svyatopolk-Mirski--the result of which is hatred towards\nabsolutism aroused among all the thinking elements of society to an\nunusual pitch. The coming days will reap the fruit of stirred popular\nhopes and unfulfilled government's pledges. Political interest has\nlately taken more definite shape; dissatisfaction has grown deeper and\nis founded on a more outspoken theoretical basis. Popular thinking,\nyesterday utterly primitive, now greedily takes to the work of political\nanalysis. All manifestations of evil and arbitrary power are being\nspeedily traced back to the principal cause. Revolutionary slogans no\nmore frighten the people; on the contrary, they arouse a thousandfold\necho, they pass into proverbs. The popular consciousness absorbs each\nword of negation, condemnation or curse addressed towards absolutism, as\na sponge absorbs fluid substance. No step of the administration remains\nunpunished. Each of its blunders is carefully taken account of. Its\nadvances are met with ridicule, its threats breed hatred. The vast\napparatus of the liberal press circulates daily thousands of facts,\nstirring, exciting, inflaming popular emotion.\n\nThe pent up feelings are seeking an outlet. Thought strives to turn into\naction. The vociferous liberal press, however, while feeding popular\nunrest, tends to divert its current into a small channel; it spreads\nsuperstitious reverence for \"public opinion,\" helpless, unorganized\n\"public opinion,\" which does not discharge itself into action; it brands\nthe revolutionary method of national emancipation; it upholds the\nillusion of legality; it centers all the attention and all the hopes of\nthe embittered groups around the Zemstvo campaign, thus systematically\npreparing a great debacle for the popular movement. Acute\ndissatisfaction, finding no outlet, discouraged by the inevitable\nfailure of the legal Zemstvo campaign which has no traditions of\nrevolutionary struggle in the past and no clear prospects in the future,\nmust necessarily manifest itself in an outbreak of desperate terrorism,\nleaving radical intellectuals in the role of helpless, passive, though\nsympathetic onlookers, leaving liberals to choke in a fit of platonic\nenthusiasm while lending doubtful assistance.\n\nThis ought not to take place. We ought to take hold of the current of\npopular excitement; we ought to turn the attention of numerous\ndissatisfied social groups to one colossal undertaking headed by the\nproletariat,--to the _National Revolution_.\n\nThe vanguard of the Revolution ought to wake from indolence all other\nelements of the people; to appear here and there and everywhere; to put\nthe questions of political struggle in the boldest possible fashion; to\ncall, to castigate, to unmask hypocritical democracy; to make democrats\nand Zemstvo liberals clash against each other; to wake again and again,\nto call, to castigate, to demand a clear answer to the question, _What\nare you going to do?_ to allow no retreat; to compel the legal liberals\nto admit their own weakness; to alienate from them the democratic\nelements and help the latter along the way of the revolution. To do this\nwork means to draw the threads of sympathy of all the democratic\nopposition towards the revolutionary campaign of the proletariat.\n\nWe ought to do all in our power to draw the attention and gain the\nsympathy of the poor non-proletarian city population. During the last\nmass actions of the proletariat, as in the general strikes of 1903 in\nthe South, nothing was done in this respect, and this was the weakest\npoint of the preparatory work. According to press correspondents, the\nqueerest rumors often circulated among the population as to the\nintentions of the strikers. The city inhabitants expected attacks on\ntheir houses, the store keepers were afraid of being looted, the Jews\nwere in a dread of pogroms. This ought to be avoided. _A political\nstrike, as a single combat of the city proletariat with the police and\nthe army, the remaining population being hostile or even indifferent, is\ndoomed to failure._\n\nThe indifference of the population would tell primarily on the morale of\nthe proletariat itself, and then on the attitude of the soldiers. Under\nsuch conditions, the stand of the administration must necessarily be\nmore determined. The generals would remind the officers, and the\nofficers would pass to the soldiers the words of Dragomirov: \"Rifles are\ngiven for sharp shooting, and nobody is permitted to squander cartridges\nfor nothing.\"\n\n_A political strike of the proletariat ought to turn into a political\ndemonstration of the population_, this is the first prerequisite of\nsuccess.\n\nThe second important prerequisite is the mood of the army. A\ndissatisfaction among the soldiers, a vague sympathy for the\n\"revoluters,\" is an established fact. Only part of this sympathy may\nrightly be attributed to our direct propaganda among the soldiers. The\nmajor part is done by the practical clashes between army units and\nprotesting masses. Only hopeless idiots or avowed scoundrels dare to\nshoot at a living target. An overwhelming majority of the soldiers are\nloathe to serve as executioners; this is unanimously admitted by all\ncorrespondents describing the battles of the army with unarmed people.\nThe average soldier aims above the heads of the crowd. It would be\nunnatural if the reverse were the case. When the Bessarabian regiment\nreceived orders to quell the Kiev general strike, the commander declared\nhe could not vouch for the attitude of his soldiers. The order, then,\nwas sent to the Cherson regiment, but there was not one half-company in\nthe entire regiment which would live up to the expectations of their\nsuperiors.\n\nKiev was no exception. The conditions of the army must now be more\nfavorable for the revolution than they were in 1903. We have gone\nthrough a year of war. It is hardly possible to measure the influence of\nthe past year on the minds of the army. The influence, however, must be\nenormous. War draws not only the attention of the people, it arouses\nalso the professional interest of the army. Our ships are slow, our guns\nhave a short range, our soldiers are uneducated, our sergeants have\nneither compass nor map, our soldiers are bare-footed, hungry, and\nfreezing, our Red Cross is stealing, our commissariat is\nstealing,--rumors and facts of this kind leak down to the army and are\nbeing eagerly absorbed. Each rumor, as strong acid, dissolves the rust\nof mental drill. Years of peaceful propaganda could hardly equal in\ntheir results one day of warfare. The mere mechanism of discipline\nremains, the faith, however, the conviction that it is right to carry\nout orders, the belief that the present conditions can be continued,\nare rapidly dwindling. The less faith the army has in absolutism, the\nmore faith it has in its foes.\n\nWe ought to make use of this situation. We ought to explain to the\nsoldiers the meaning of the workingmen's action which is being prepared\nby the Party. We ought to make profuse use of the slogan which is bound\nto unite the army with the revolutionary people, _Away with the War!_ We\nought to create a situation where the officers would not be able to\ntrust their soldiers at the crucial moment. This would reflect on the\nattitude of the officers themselves.\n\nThe rest will be done by the street. It will dissolve the remnants of\nthe barrack-hypnosis in the revolutionary enthusiasm of the people.\n\nThe main factor, however, remain the revolutionary masses. True it is\nthat during the war the most advanced elements of the masses, the\nthinking proletariat, have not stepped openly to the front with that\ndegree of determination which was required by the critical historic\nmoment. Yet it would manifest a lack of political backbone and a\ndeplorable superficiality, should one draw from this fact any kind of\npessimistic conclusions.\n\nThe war has fallen upon our public life with all its colossal weight.\nThe dreadful monster, breathing blood and fire, loomed up on the\npolitical horizon, shutting out everything, sinking its steel clutches\ninto the body of the people, inflicting wound upon wound, causing mortal\npain, which for a moment makes it even impossible to ask for the causes\nof the pain. The war, as every great disaster, accompanied by crisis,\nunemployment, mobilization, hunger and death, stunned the people, caused\ndespair, but not protest. This is, however, only a beginning. Raw masses\nof the people, silent social strata, which yesterday had no connection\nwith the revolutionary elements, were knocked by sheer mechanical power\nof facts to face the central event of present-day Russia, the war. They\nwere horrified, they could not catch their breaths. The revolutionary\nelements, who prior to the war had ignored the passive masses, were\naffected by the atmosphere of despair and concentrated horror. This\natmosphere enveloped them, it pressed with a leaden weight on their\nminds. The voice of determined protest could hardly be raised in the\nmidst of elemental suffering. The revolutionary proletariat which had\nnot yet recovered from the wounds received in July, 1903, was powerless\nto oppose the \"call of the primitive.\"\n\nThe year of war, however, passed not without results. Masses, yesterday\nprimitive, to-day are confronted with the most tremendous events. They\nmust seek to understand them. The very duration of the war has produced\na desire for reasoning, for questioning as to the meaning of it all.\nThus the war, while hampering for a period of time the revolutionary\ninitiative of thousands, has awakened to life the political thought of\nmillions.\n\nThe year of war passed not without results, not a single day passed\nwithout results. In the lower strata of the people, in the very depths\nof the masses, a work was going on, a movement of molecules,\nimperceptible, yet irresistible, incessant, a work of accumulating\nindignation, bitterness, revolutionary energy. The atmosphere our\nstreets are breathing now is no longer an atmosphere of blank despair,\nit is an atmosphere of concentrated indignation which seeks for means\nand ways for revolutionary action. Each expedient action of the vanguard\nof our working masses would now carry away with it not only all our\nrevolutionary reserves, but also thousands and hundreds of thousands of\nrevolutionary recruits. This mobilization, unlike the mobilization of\nthe government, would be carried out in the presence of general\nsympathy and active assistance of an overwhelming majority of the\npopulation.\n\nIn the presence of strong sympathies of the masses, in the presence of\nactive assistance on the part of the democratic elements of the people;\nfacing a government commonly hated, unsuccessful both in big and in\nsmall undertakings, a government defeated on the seas, defeated in the\nfields of battle, despised, discouraged, with no faith in the coming\nday, a government vainly struggling, currying favor, provoking and\nretreating, lying and suffering exposure, insolent and frightened;\nfacing an army whose morale has been shattered by the entire course of\nthe war, whose valor, energy, enthusiasm and heroism have met an\ninsurmountable wall in the form of administrative anarchy, an army which\nhas lost faith in the unshakable security of a regime it is called to\nserve, a dissatisfied, grumbling army which more than once has torn\nitself free from the clutches of discipline during the last year and\nwhich is eagerly listening to the roar of revolutionary voices,--such\nwill be the conditions under which the revolutionary proletariat will\nwalk out into the streets. It seems to us that no better conditions\ncould have been created by history for a final attack. History has done\neverything it was allowed by elemental wisdom. The thinking\nrevolutionary forces of the country have to do the rest.\n\nA tremendous amount of revolutionary energy has been accumulated. It\nshould not vanish with no avail, it should not be dissipated in\nscattered engagements and clashes, with no coherence and no definite\nplan. All efforts ought to be made to concentrate the bitterness, the\nanger, the protest, the rage, the hatred of the masses, to give those\nemotions a common language, a common goal, to unite, to solidify all the\nparticles of the masses, to make them feel and understand that they are\nnot isolated, that simultaneously, with the same slogan on the banner,\nwith the same goal in mind, innumerable particles are rising everywhere.\nIf this understanding is achieved, half of the revolution is done.\n\nWe have got to summon all revolutionary forces to simultaneous action.\nHow can we do it?\n\nFirst of all we ought to remember that the main scene of revolutionary\nevents is bound to be the city. Nobody is likely to deny this. It is\nevident, further, that street demonstrations can turn into a popular\nrevolution only when they are a manifestation of _masses_, i.e., when\nthey embrace, in the first place, the workers of factories and plants.\nTo make the workers quit their machines and stands; to make them walk\nout of the factory premises into the street; to lead them to the\nneighboring plant; to proclaim there a cessation of work; to make new\nmasses walk out into the street; to go thus from factory to factory,\nfrom plant to plant, incessantly growing in numbers, sweeping police\nbarriers, absorbing new masses that happened to come across, crowding\nthe streets, taking possession of buildings suitable for popular\nmeetings, fortifying those buildings, holding continuous revolutionary\nmeetings with audiences coming and going, bringing order into the\nmovements of the masses, arousing their spirit, explaining to them the\naim and the meaning of what is going on; to turn, finally, the entire\ncity into one revolutionary camp, this is, broadly speaking, the plan of\naction.\n\nThe starting point ought to be the factories and plants. That means that\nstreet manifestations of a serious character, fraught with decisive\nevents, ought to begin with _political strikes of the masses_.\n\nIt is easier to fix a date for a strike, than for a demonstration of\nthe people, just as it is easier to move masses ready for action than to\norganize new masses.\n\nA political strike, however, not a _local, but a general political\nstrike all over Russia_,--ought to have a general political slogan. This\nslogan is: _to stop the war and to call a National Constituent\nAssembly_.\n\nThis demand ought to become nation-wide, and herein lies the task for\nour propaganda preceding the all-Russian general strike. We ought to use\nall possible occasions to make the idea of a National Constituent\nAssembly popular among the people. Without losing one moment, we ought\nto put into operation all the technical means and all the powers of\npropaganda at our disposal. Proclamations and speeches, educational\ncircles and mass-meetings ought to carry broadcast, to propound and to\nexplain the demand of a Constituent Assembly. There ought to be not one\nman in a city who should not know that his demand is: a National\nConstituent Assembly.\n\nThe peasants ought to be called to assemble on the day of the political\nstrike and to pass resolutions demanding the calling of a Constituent\nAssembly. The suburban peasants ought to be called into the cities to\nparticipate in the street movements of the masses gathered under the\nbanner of a Constituent Assembly. All societies and organizations,\nprofessional and learned bodies, organs of self-government and organs of\nthe opposition press ought to be notified in advance by the workingmen\nthat they are preparing for an all-Russian political strike, fixed for a\ncertain date, to bring about the calling of a Constituent Assembly. The\nworkingmen ought to demand from all societies and corporations that, on\nthe day appointed for the mass-manifestation, they should join in the\ndemand of a National Constituent Assembly. The workingmen ought to\ndemand from the opposition press that it should popularize their slogan\nand that on the eve of the demonstration it should print an appeal to\nthe population to join the proletarian manifestation under the banner of\na National Constituent Assembly.\n\nWe ought to carry on the most intensive propaganda in the army in order\nthat on the day of the strike each soldier, sent to curb the \"rebels,\"\nshould know that he is facing the people who are demanding a National\nConstituent Assembly.\n\n\nEXPLANATORY NOTES\n\n \"_The hiss of the knout_\" which ended the era of \"cordial\n relations\" was a statement issued by the government on December 12,\n 1904, declaring that \"all disturbances of peace and order and all\n gatherings of an anti-governmental character must and will be\n stopped by all legal means in command of the authorities.\" The\n Zemstvo and municipal bodies were advised to keep from political\n utterings. As to the Socialist parties, and to labor movement in\n general, they were prosecuted under Svyatopolk-Mirski as severely\n as under Von Plehve.\n\n \"_The vast apparatus of the liberal press_\" was the only way to\n reach millions. The revolutionary \"underground\" press, which\n assumed towards 1905 unusual proportions, could, after all, reach\n only a limited number of readers. In times of political unrest, the\n public became used to read between the lines of the legal press all\n it needed to feed its hatred of oppression.\n\n By \"_legal_\" _press_, \"_legal_\" _liberals_ are meant the open\n public press and those liberals who were trying to comply with the\n legal requirements of absolutism even in their work of condemning\n the absolutist order. The term \"legal\" is opposed by the term\n \"revolutionary\" which is applied to political actions in defiance\n of law.\n\n _Dragomirov_ was for many years Commander of the Kiev Military\n region and known by his epigrammatic style.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EVENTS IN PETERSBURG\n\n This is an essay of triumph. Written on January 20, 1905, eleven\n days after the \"bloody Sunday,\" it gave vent to the enthusiastic\n feelings of every true revolutionist aroused by unmistakable signs\n of an approaching storm. The march of tens of thousands of\n workingmen to the Winter Palace to submit to the \"Little Father\" a\n petition asking for \"bread and freedom,\" was on the surface a\n peaceful and loyal undertaking. Yet it breathed indignation and\n revolt. The slaughter of peaceful marchers (of whom over 5,000 were\n killed or wounded) and the following wave of hatred and\n revolutionary determination among the masses, marked the beginning\n of broad revolutionary uprisings.\n\n For Trotzky, the awakening of the masses to political activity was\n not only a good revolutionary omen, but also a defeat of liberal\n ideology and liberal tactics. Those tactics had been planned under\n the assumption that the Russian people were not ripe for a\n revolution. Trotzky, a thorough revolutionist, _saw_ in the liberal\n movement a manifestation of political superstitions. To him, the\n _only_ way to overthrow absolutism was the way of a violent\n revolution. Yet, when the liberals proudly asserted that the\n revolutionary masses of Russia were only a creation of the\n overheated phantasy of the revolutionists, while the movement of\n the well-to-do intelligent elements was a flagrant fact, the\n Social-Democrats had no material proofs to the contrary, except\n sporadic outbursts of unrest among the workingmen and, of course,\n the conviction of those revolutionists who were in touch with the\n masses. It is, therefore, easy to understand the triumph of a\n Trotzky or any other Socialist after January 9th. In Trotzky's\n opinion, the 9th of January had put liberalism into the archives.\n \"We are done with it for the entire period of the revolution,\" he\n exclaims. The most remarkable part of this essay, as far as\n political vision is concerned, is Trotzky's prediction that the\n left wing of the \"Osvoboshdenie\" liberals (later organized as the\n Constitutional Democratic Party) would attempt to become leaders of\n the revolutionary masses and to \"tame\" them. The Liberals did not\n fail to make the attempt in 1905 and 1906, but with no success\n whatever. Neither did Social-Democracy, however, completely succeed\n in leading the masses all through the revolution, in the manner\n outlined by Trotzky in this essay. True, the Social-Democrats were\n the party that gained the greatest influence over the workingmen in\n the stormy year of 1905; their slogans were universally accepted by\n the masses; their members were everywhere among the first ranks of\n revolutionary forces; yet events developed too rapidly and\n spontaneously to make the leadership of a political organization\n possible.\n\n\nHow invincibly eloquent are facts! How utterly powerless are words!\n\nThe masses have made themselves heard! They have kindled revolutionary\nflames on Caucasian hill-tops; they have clashed, breast against breast,\nwith the guards' regiments and the cossacks on that unforgettable day of\nJanuary Ninth; they have filled the streets and squares of industrial\ncities with the noise and clatter of their fights....\n\nThe revolutionary masses are no more a theory, they are a fact. For the\nSocial-Democratic Party there is nothing new in this fact. We had\npredicted it long ago. We had seen its coming at a time when the noisy\nliberal banquets seemed to form a striking contrast with the political\nsilence of the people. _The revolutionary masses are a fact_, was our\nassertion. The clever liberals shrugged their shoulders in contempt.\nThose gentlemen think themselves sober realists solely because they are\nunable to grasp the consequences of great causes, because they make it\ntheir business to be humble servants of each ephemeral political fact.\nThey think themselves sober statesmen in spite of the fact that history\nmocks at their wisdom, tearing to pieces their school books, making to\nnaught their designs, and magnificently laughing at their pompous\npredictions.\n\n\"_There are no revolutionary people in Russia as yet._\" \"_The Russian\nworkingman is backward in culture, in self-respect, and (we refer\nprimarily to the workingmen of Petersburg and Moscow) he is not yet\nprepared for organized social and political struggle._\"\n\nThus Mr. Struve wrote in his _Osvoboshdenie_. He wrote it on January\n7th, 1905. Two days later the proletariat of Petersburg arose.\n\n\"_There are no revolutionary people in Russia as yet._\" These words\nought to have been engraved on the forehead of Mr. Struve were it not\nthat Mr. Struve's forehead already resembles a tombstone under which so\nmany plans, slogans, and ideas have been buried,--Socialist, liberal,\n\"patriotic,\" revolutionary, monarchic, democratic and other ideas, all\nof them calculated not to run too far ahead and all of them hopelessly\ndragging behind.\n\n\"_There are no revolutionary people in Russia as yet_,\" so it was\ndeclared through the mouth of _Osvoboshdenie_ by Russian liberalism\nwhich in the course of three months had succeeded in convincing itself\nthat liberalism was the main figure on the political stage and that its\nprogram and tactics would determine the future of Russia. Before this\ndeclaration had reached its readers, the wires carried into the remotest\ncorners of the world the great message of the beginning of a National\nRevolution in Russia.\n\nYes, the Revolution has begun. We had hoped for it, we had had no doubt\nabout it. For long years, however, it had been to us a mere deduction\nfrom our \"doctrine,\" which all nonentities of all political\ndenominations had mocked at. They never believed in the revolutionary\nrole of the proletariat, yet they believed in the power of Zemstvo\npetitions, in Witte, in \"blocs\" combining naughts with naughts, in\nSvyatopolk-Mirski, in a stick of dynamite.... There was no political\nsuperstition they did not believe in. Only the belief in the proletariat\nto them was a superstition.\n\nHistory, however, does not question political oracles, and the\nrevolutionary people do not need a passport from political eunuchs.\n\nThe Revolution has come. One move of hers has lifted the people over\nscores of steps, up which in times of peace we would have had to drag\nourselves with hardships and fatigue. The Revolution has come and\ndestroyed the plans of so many politicians who had dared to make their\nlittle political calculations with no regard for the master, the\nrevolutionary people. The Revolution has come and destroyed scores of\nsuperstitions, and has manifested the power of the program which is\nfounded on the revolutionary logic of the development of the masses.\n\nThe Revolution has come, and the period of our political infancy has\npassed. Down to the archives went our traditional liberalism whose only\nresource was the belief in a lucky change of administrative figures. Its\nperiod of bloom was the stupid reign of Svyatopolk-Mirski. Its ripest\nfruit was the Ukase of December 12th. But now, January Ninth has come\nand effaced the \"Spring,\" and has put military dictatorship in its\nplace, and has promoted to the rank of Governor-General of Petersburg\nthe same Trepov, who just before had been pulled down from the post of\nMoscow Chief of Police by the same liberal opposition.\n\nThat liberalism which did not care to know about the revolution, which\nhatched plots behind the scenes, which ignored the masses, which\ncounted only on its diplomatic genius, has been swept away. _We are done\nwith it for the entire period of the revolution._\n\nThe liberals of the left wing will now follow the people. They will soon\nattempt to take the people into their own hands. The people are a power.\nOne must _master_ them. But they are, too, a _revolutionary_ power. One,\ntherefore, must _tame_ them. This is, evidently, the future tactics of\nthe _Osvoboshdenie_ group. Our fight for a revolution, our preparatory\nwork for the revolution must also be our merciless fight against\nliberalism for influence over the masses, for a leading role in the\nrevolution. In this fight we shall be supported by a great power, the\nvery logic of the revolution!\n\nThe Revolution has come.\n\nThe _forms_ taken by the uprising of January 9th could not have been\nforeseen. A revolutionary priest, in perplexing manner placed by history\nat the head of the working masses for several days, lent the events the\nstamp of his personality, his conceptions, his rank. This form may\nmislead many an observer as to the real substance of the events. The\nactual meaning of the events, however, is just that which\nSocial-Democracy foresaw. The central figure is the Proletariat. The\nworkingmen start a strike, they unite, they formulate political demands,\nthey walk out into the streets, they win the enthusiastic sympathy of\nthe entire population, they engage in battles with the army.... The\nhero, Gapon, has not created the revolutionary energy of the Petersburg\nworkingmen, he only unloosed it. He found thousands of thinking\nworkingmen and tens of thousands of others in a state of political\nagitation. He formed a plan which united all those masses--for the\nperiod of one day. The masses went to speak to the Tzar. They were faced\nby Ulans, cossacks, guards. Gapon's plan had not prepared the workingmen\nfor that. What was the result? They seized arms wherever they could,\nthey built barricades.... They fought, though, apparently, they went to\nbeg for mercy. This shows that they went _not to beg, but to demand_.\n\nThe proletariat of Petersburg manifested a degree of political alertness\nand revolutionary energy far exceeding the limits of the plan laid out\nby a casual leader. Gapon's plan contained many elements of\nrevolutionary romanticism. On January 9th, the plan collapsed. Yet the\nrevolutionary proletariat of Petersburg is no romanticism, it is a\nliving reality. So is the proletariat of other cities. An enormous wave\nis rolling over Russia. It has not yet quieted down. One shock, and the\nproletarian crater will begin to erupt torrents of revolutionary lava.\n\nThe proletariat has arisen. It has chosen an incidental pretext and a\ncasual leader--a self-sacrificing priest. That seemed enough to start\nwith. It was not enough to _win_.\n\n_Victory_ demands not a romantic method based on an illusory plan, but\nrevolutionary tactics. _A simultaneous action of the proletariat of all\nRussia must be prepared._ This is the first condition. No local\ndemonstration has a serious political significance any longer. After the\nPetersburg uprising, only an all-Russian uprising should take place.\nScattered outbursts would only consume the precious revolutionary energy\nwith no results. Wherever spontaneous outbursts occur, as a late echo of\nthe Petersburg uprising, _they must be made use of to revolutionize and\nto solidify the masses, to popularize among them the idea of an\nall-Russian uprising_ as a task of the approaching months, perhaps only\nweeks.\n\nThis is not the place to discuss the technique of a popular uprising.\nThe questions of revolutionary technique can be solved only in a\npractical way, under the live pressure of struggle and under constant\ncommunication with the active members of the Party. There is no doubt,\nhowever, that the technical problems of organizing a popular uprising\nassume at present tremendous importance. Those problems demand the\ncollective attention of the Party.\n\n [Trotzky then proceeds to discuss the question of armament,\n arsenals, clashes with army units, barricades, etc. Then he\n continues:]\n\nAs stated before, these questions ought to be solved by local\norganizations. Of course, this is only a minor task as compared with the\npolitical leadership of the masses. Yet, this task is most essential for\nthe political leadership itself. The organization of the revolution\nbecomes at present the axis of the political leadership of revolting\nmasses.\n\nWhat are the requirements for this leadership? A few very simple things:\nfreedom from routine in matters of organization; freedom from miserable\ntraditions of underground conspiracy; a broad view; courageous\ninitiative; ability to gauge situations; courageous initiative once\nmore.\n\nThe events of January 9th have given us a revolutionary beginning. We\nmust never fall below this. We must make this our starting point in\nmoving the revolution forward. We must imbue our work of propaganda and\norganization with the political ideas and revolutionary aspirations of\nthe uprising of the Petersburg workers.\n\nThe Russian revolution has approached its climax--a national uprising.\nThe organization of this uprising, which would determine the fate of the\nentire revolution, becomes the day's task for our Party.\n\nNo one can accomplish it, but we. Priest Gapon could appear only once.\nHe cherished extraordinary illusions, that is why he could do what he\nhas done. Yet he could remain at the head of the masses for a brief\nperiod only. The memory of George Gapon will always be dear to the\nrevolutionary proletariat. Yet his memory will be that of a hero who\nopened the sluices of the revolutionary torrent. Should a new figure\nstep to the front now, equal to Gapon in energy, revolutionary\nenthusiasm and power of political illusions, his arrival would be too\nlate. What was great in George Gapon may now look ridiculous. There is\nno room for a second George Gapon, as the thing now needed is not an\nillusion, but clear revolutionary thinking, a decisive plan of action, a\nflexible revolutionary organization which would be able to give the\nmasses a slogan, to lead them into the field of battle, to launch an\nattack all along the line and bring the revolution to a victorious\nconclusion.\n\nSuch an organization can be the work of Social-Democracy only. No other\nparty is able to create it. No other party can give the masses a\nrevolutionary slogan, as no one outside our Party has freed himself from\nall considerations not pertaining to the interests of the revolution. No\nother party, but Social-Democracy, is able to organize the action of the\nmasses, as no one but our Party is closely connected with the masses.\n\nOur Party has committed many errors, blunders, almost crimes. It\nwavered, evaded, hesitated, it showed inertia and lack of pluck. At\ntimes it hampered the revolutionary movement.\n\n_However, there is no revolutionary party but the Social-Democratic\nParty!_\n\nOur organizations are imperfect. Our connections with the masses are\ninsufficient. Our technique is primitive.\n\n_Yet, there is no party connected with the masses but the\nSocial-Democratic Party!_\n\nAt the head of the Revolution is the Proletariat. At the head of the\nProletariat is Social-Democracy!\n\nLet us exert all our power, comrades! Let us put all our energy and all\nour passion into this. Let us not forget for a moment the great\nresponsibility vested in our Party: a responsibility before the Russian\nRevolution and in the sight of International Socialism.\n\nThe proletariat of the entire world looks to us with expectation. Broad\nvistas are being opened for humanity by a victorious Russian revolution.\nComrades, let us do our duty!\n\nLet us close our ranks, comrades! Let us unite, and unite the masses!\nLet us prepare, and prepare the masses for the day of decisive actions!\nLet us overlook nothing. Let us leave no power unused for the Cause.\n\nBrave, honest, harmoniously united, we shall march forward, linked by\nunbreakable bonds, brothers in the Revolution!\n\n\nEXPLANATORY NOTES\n\n _Osvoboshdenie_ (_Emancipation_) was the name of a liberal magazine\n published in Stuttgart, Germany, and smuggled into Russia to be\n distributed among the Zemstvo-liberals and other progressive\n elements grouped about the Zemstvo-organization. The\n _Osvoboshdenie_ advocated a constitutional monarchy; it was,\n however, opposed to revolutionary methods.\n\n _Peter Struve_, first a Socialist, then a Liberal, was the editor\n of the _Osvoboshdenie_. Struve is an economist and one of the\n leading liberal journalists in Russia.\n\n _Zemstvo-petitions_, accepted in form of resolutions at the\n meetings of the liberal Zemstvo bodies and forwarded to the central\n government, were one of the means the liberals used in their\n struggle for a Constitution. The petitions, worded in a very\n moderate language, demanded the abolition of \"lawlessness\" on the\n part of the administration and the introduction of a \"legal order,\"\n i.e., a Constitution.\n\n _Sergius Witte_, Minister of Finance in the closing years of the\n 19th Century and up to the revolution of 1905, was known as a\n bureaucrat of a liberal brand.\n\n _The Ukase of December 12th, 1905_, was an answer of the government\n to the persistent political demands of the \"Spring\" time. The Ukase\n promised a number of insignificant bureaucratic reforms, not even\n mentioning a popular representation and threatening increased\n punishments for \"disturbances of peace and order.\"\n\n _Trepov_ was one of the most hated bureaucrats, a devoted pupil of\n Von Plehve's in the work of drowning revolutionary movements in\n blood.\n\n _George Gapon_ was the priest who organized the march of January\n 9th. Trotzky's admiration for the heroism of Gapon was originally\n shared by many revolutionists. Later it became known that Gapon\n played a dubious role as a friend of labor, and an agent of the\n government.\n\n _The_ \"_Political illusions_\" of George Gapon, referred to in this\n essay, was his assumption that the Tzar was a loving father to his\n people. Gapon hoped to reach the Emperor of all the Russias and to\n make him \"receive the workingmen's petition from hand to hand.\"\n\n\n\n\nPROSPECTS OF A LABOR DICTATORSHIP\n\n This is, perhaps, the most remarkable piece of political writing\n the Revolution has produced. Written early in 1906, after the great\n upheavals of the fall of 1905, at a time when the Russian\n revolution was obviously going down hill, and autocracy, after a\n moment of relaxation, was increasing its deadly grip over the\n country, the essays under the name _Sum Total and Prospectives_\n (which we have here changed into a more comprehensible name,\n _Prospects of Labor Dictatorship_) aroused more amazement than\n admiration. They seemed so entirely out of place. They ignored the\n liberal parties as quite negligible quantities. They ignored the\n creation of the Duma to which the Constitutional Democrats attached\n so much importance as a place where democracy would fight the\n battles of the people and win. They ignored the very fact that the\n vanguard of the revolution, the industrial proletariat, was beaten,\n disorganized, downhearted, tired out.\n\n The essays met with opposition on the part of leading\n Social-Democratic thinkers of both the Bolsheviki and Mensheviki\n factions. The essays seemed to be more an expression of Trotzky's\n revolutionary ardor, of his unshakable faith in the future of the\n Russian revolution, than a reflection of political realities. It\n was known that he wrote them within prison walls. Should not the\n very fact of his imprisonment have convinced him that in drawing a\n picture of labor dictatorship he was only dreaming?\n\n History has shown that it was not a dream. Whatever our attitude\n towards the course of events in the 1917 revolution may be, we must\n admit that, in the main, this course has taken the direction\n predicted in Trotzky's essays. There is a labor dictatorship now in\n Russia. It is a _labor_ dictatorship, not a \"dictatorship of the\n proletariat and the peasants.\" The liberal and radical parties have\n lost influence. The labor government has put collective ownership\n and collective management of industries on the order of the day.\n The labor government has not hesitated in declaring Russia to be\n ready for a Socialist revolution. It was compelled to do so under\n the pressure of revolutionary proletarian masses. The Russian army\n has been dissolved in the armed people. The Russian revolution has\n called the workingmen of the world to make a social revolution.\n\n All this had been outlined by Trotzky twelve years ago. When one\n reads this series of essays, one has the feeling that they were\n written not in the course of the first Russian upheaval (the essays\n appeared in 1906 as part of a book by Trotzky, entitled _Our\n Revolution_, Petersburg, N. Glagoleff, publisher) but as if they\n were discussing problems of the present situation. This, more than\n anything else, shows the _continuity_ of the revolution. The great\n overthrow of 1917 was completed by the same political and social\n forces that had met and learned to know each other in the storms of\n 1905 and 1906. The ideology of the various groups and parties had\n hardly changed. Even the leaders of the major parties were, in the\n main, the same persons. Of course, the international situation was\n different. But even the possibility of a European war and its\n consequences had been foreseen by Trotzky in his essays.\n\n Twelve years ago those essays seemed to picture an imaginary world.\n To-day they seem to tell the history of the Russian revolution. We\n may agree or disagree with Trotzky, the leader, nobody can deny the\n power and clarity of his political vision.\n\n * * * * *\n\n In the _first_ chapter, entitled \"Peculiarities of Our Historic\n Development,\" the author gives a broad outline of the growth of\n absolutism in Russia. Development of social forms in Russia, he\n says, was slow and primitive. Our social life was constructed on an\n archaic and meager economic foundation. Yet, Russia did not lead an\n isolated life. Russia was under constant pressure of higher\n politico-economical organisms,--the neighboring Western states. The\n Russian state, in its struggle for existence, outgrew its economic\n basis. Historic development in Russia, therefore, was taking place\n under a terrific straining of national economic forces. The state\n absorbed the major part of the national economic surplus and also\n part of the product necessary for the maintenance of the people.\n The state thus undermined its own foundation. On the other hand, to\n secure the means indispensable for its growth, the state forced\n economic development by bureaucratic measures. Ever since the end\n of the seventeenth century, the state was most anxious to develop\n industries in Russia. \"New trades, machines, factories, production\n on a large scale, capital, appear from a certain angle to be an\n artificial graft on the original economic trunk of the people.\n Similarly, Russian science may appear from the same angle to be an\n artificial graft on the natural trunk of national ignorance.\" This,\n however, is a wrong conception. The Russian state could not have\n created something out of nothing. State action only accelerated the\n processes of natural evolution of economic life. State measures\n that were in contradiction to those processes were doomed to\n failure. Still, the role of the state in economic life was\n enormous. When social development reached the stage where the\n bourgeoisie classes began to experience a desire for political\n institutions of a Western type, Russian autocracy was fully\n equipped with all the material power of a modern European state. It\n had at its command a centralized bureaucratic machinery, incapable\n of regulating modern relations, yet strong enough to do the work of\n oppression. It was in a position to overcome distance by means of\n the telegraph and railroads,--a thing unknown to the\n pre-revolutionary autocracies in Europe. It had a colossal army,\n incompetent in wars with foreign enemies, yet strong enough to\n maintain the authority of the state in internal affairs.\n\n Based on its military and fiscal apparatus, absorbing the major\n part of the country's resources, the government increased its\n annual budget to an enormous amount of two billions of rubles, it\n made the stock-exchange of Europe its treasury and the Russian\n tax-payer a slave to European high finance. Gradually, the Russian\n state became an end in itself. It evolved into a power independent\n of society. It left unsatisfied the most elementary wants of the\n people. It was unable even to defend the safety of the country\n against foreign foes. Yet, it seemed strong, powerful, invincible.\n It inspired awe.\n\n It became evident that the Russian state would never grant reforms\n of its own free will. As years passed, the conflict between\n absolutism and the requirements of economic and cultural progress\n became ever more acute. There was only one way to solve the\n problem: \"to accumulate enough steam inside the iron kettle of\n absolutism to burst the kettle.\" This was the way outlined by the\n Marxists long ago. Marxism was the only doctrine that had correctly\n predicted the course of development in Russia.\n\n * * * * *\n\n In the _second_ chapter, \"City and Capital,\" Trotzky attempts a\n theoretical explanation to the weakness of the middle-class in\n Russia. Russia of the eighteenth, and even of the major part of the\n nineteenth, century, he writes, was marked by an absence of cities\n as industrial centers. Our big cities were administrative rather\n than industrial centers. Our primitive industries were scattered in\n the villages, auxiliary occupations of the peasant farmers. Even\n the population of our so called \"cities,\" in former generations\n maintained itself largely by agriculture. Russian cities never\n contained a prosperous, efficient and self-assured class of\n artisans--that real foundation of the European middle class which\n in the course of revolutions against absolutism identified itself\n with the \"people.\" When modern capitalism, aided by absolutism,\n appeared on the scene of Russia and turned large villages into\n modern industrial centers almost over night, it had no middle-class\n to build on. In Russian cities, therefore, the influence of the\n bourgeoisie is far less than in western Europe. Russian cities\n practically contain great numbers of workingmen and small groups of\n capitalists. Moreover, the specific political weight of the Russian\n proletariat is larger than that of the capital employed in Russia,\n because the latter is to a great extent _imported_ capital. Thus,\n while a large proportion of the capital operating in Russia exerts\n its political influence in the parliaments of Belgium or France,\n the working class employed by the same capital exert their entire\n influence in the political life of Russia. As a result of these\n peculiar historic developments, the Russian proletariat, recruited\n from the pauperized peasant and ruined rural artisans, has\n accumulated in the new cities in very great numbers, \"and nothing\n stood between the workingmen and absolutism but a small class of\n capitalists, separated from the 'people' (i.e., the middle-class in\n the European sense of the word), half foreign in its derivation,\n devoid of historic traditions, animated solely by a hunger for\n profits.\"\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n1789-1848-1905\n\nHistory does not repeat itself. You are free to compare the Russian\nrevolution with the Great French Revolution, yet this would not make the\nformer resemble the latter. The nineteenth century passed not in vain.\n\nAlready the year of 1848 is widely different from 1789. As compared with\nthe Great Revolution, the revolutions in Prussia or Austria appear\namazingly small. From one viewpoint, the revolutions of 1848 came too\nearly; from another, too late. That gigantic exertion of power which is\nnecessary for the bourgeois society to get completely square with the\nmasters of the past, can be achieved either through powerful _unity_ of\nan entire nation arousing against feudal despotism, or through a\npowerful development of _class struggle_ within a nation striving for\nfreedom. In the first case--of which a classic example are the years\n1789-1793,--the national energy, compressed by the terrific resistance\nof the old regime, was spent entirely in the struggle against reaction.\nIn the second case--which has never appeared in history as yet, and\nwhich is treated here as hypothetical--the actual energy necessary for a\nvictory over the black forces of history is being developed within the\nbourgeois nation through \"civil war\" between classes. Fierce internal\nfriction characterizes the latter case. It absorbs enormous quantities\nof energy, prevents the bourgeoisie from playing a leading role, pushes\nits antagonist, the proletariat, to the front, gives the workingman\ndecades' experience in a month, makes them the central figures in\npolitical struggles, and puts very tight reins into their hands. Strong,\ndetermined, knowing no doubts, the proletariat gives events a powerful\ntwist.\n\nThus, it is either--or. Either a nation gathered into one compact whole,\nas a lion ready to leap; or a nation completely divided in the process\nof internal struggles, a nation that has released her best part for a\ntask which the whole was unable to complete. Such are the two polar\ntypes, whose purest forms, however, can be found only in logical\ncontraposition.\n\nHere, as in many other cases, the middle road is the worst. This was the\ncase in 1848.\n\nIn the French Revolution we see an active, enlightened bourgeoisie, not\nyet aware of the contradictions of its situation; entrusted by history\nwith the task of leadership in the struggle for a new order; fighting\nnot only against the archaic institutions of France, but also against\nthe forces of reaction throughout Europe. The bourgeoisie consciously,\nin the person of its various factions, assumes the leadership of the\nnation, it lures the masses into struggle, it coins slogans, it dictates\nrevolutionary tactics. Democracy unites the nation in one political\nideology. The people--small artisans, petty merchants, peasants, and\nworkingmen--elect bourgeois as their representatives; the mandates of\nthe communities are framed in the language of the bourgeoisie which\nbecomes aware of its Messianic role. Antagonisms do not fail to reveal\nthemselves in the course of the revolution, yet the powerful momentum of\nthe revolution removes one by one the most unresponsive elements of the\nbourgeoisie. Each stratum is torn off, but not before it has given over\nall its energy to the following one. The nation as a whole continues to\nfight with ever increasing persistence and determination. When the upper\nstratum of the bourgeoisie tears itself away from the main body of the\nnation to form an alliance with Louis XVI, the democratic demands of the\nnation turn _against_ this part of the bourgeoisie, leading to universal\nsuffrage and a republican government as logically consequent forms of\ndemocracy.\n\nThe Great French Revolution is a true national revolution. It is more\nthan that. It is a classic manifestation, on a national scale, of the\nworld-wide struggle of the bourgeois order for supremacy, for power, for\nunmitigated triumph. In 1848, the bourgeoisie was no more capable of a\nsimilar role. It did not want, it did not dare take the responsibility\nfor a revolutionary liquidation of a political order that stood in its\nway. The reason is clear. The task of the bourgeoisie--of which it was\nfully aware--was not to secure its _own_ political supremacy, but to\nsecure for itself _a share_ in the political power of the old regime.\nThe bourgeoisie of 1848, niggardly wise with the experience of the\nFrench bourgeoisie, was vitiated by its treachery, frightened by its\nfailures. It did not lead the masses to storm the citadels of the\nabsolutist order. On the contrary, with its back against the absolutist\norder, it resisted the onslaught of the masses that were pushing it\nforward.\n\nThe French bourgeoisie made its revolution great. Its consciousness was\nthe consciousness of the people, and no idea found its expression in\ninstitutions without having gone through its consciousness as an end, as\na task of political construction. It often resorted to theatrical poses\nto conceal from itself the limitations of its bourgeois world,--yet it\nmarched forward.\n\nThe German bourgeoisie, on the contrary, was not doing the revolutionary\nwork; it was \"doing away\" with the revolution from the very start. Its\nconsciousness revolted against the objective conditions of its\nsupremacy. The revolution could be completed not by the bourgeoisie, but\nagainst it. Democratic institutions seemed to the mind of the German\nbourgeois not an aim for his struggle, but a menace to his security.\n\nAnother class was required in 1848, a class capable of conducting the\nrevolution beside the bourgeoisie and in spite of it, a class not only\nready and able to push the bourgeoisie forward, but also to step over\nits political corpse, should events so demand. None of the other\nclasses, however, was ready for the job.\n\n_The petty middle class_ were hostile not only to the past, but also to\nthe future. They were still entangled in the meshes of medieval\nrelations, and they were unable to withstand the oncoming \"free\"\nindustry; they were still giving the cities their stamp, and they were\nalready giving way to the influences of big capital. Steeped in\nprejudices, stunned by the clatter of events, exploiting and being\nexploited, greedy and helpless in their greed, they could not become\nleaders in matters of world-wide importance. Still less were the\n_peasants_ capable of political initiative. Scattered over the country,\nfar from the nervous centers of politics and culture, limited in their\nviews, the peasants could have no great part in the struggles for a new\norder. The _democratic intellectuals_ possessed no social weight; they\neither dragged along behind their elder sister, the liberal bourgeoisie,\nas its political tail, or they separated themselves from the bourgeoisie\nin critical moments only to show their weakness.\n\n_The industrial workingmen_ were too weak, unorganized, devoid of\nexperience and knowledge. The capitalist development had gone far enough\nto make the abolition of old feudal relations imperative, yet it had not\ngone far enough to make the working class, the product of new economic\nrelations, a decisive political factor. Antagonism between bourgeoisie\nand proletariat, even within the national boundaries of Germany, was\nsharp enough to prevent the bourgeoisie from stepping to the front to\nassume national hegemony in the revolution, yet it was not sharp enough\nto allow the proletariat to become a national leader. True, the internal\nfrictions of the revolution had prepared the workingmen for political\nindependence, yet they weakened the energy and the unity of the\nrevolution and they caused a great waste of power. The result was that,\nafter the first successes, the revolution began to plod about in painful\nuncertainty, and under the first blows of the reaction it started\nbackwards. Austria gave the clearest and most tragic example of\nunfinished and unsettled relations in a revolutionary period. It was\nthis situation that gave Lassalle occasion to assert that henceforward\nrevolutions could find their support only in the class struggle of the\nproletariat. In a letter to Marx, dated October 24, 1849 he writes: \"The\nexperiences of Austria, Hungary and Germany in 1848 and 1849 have led me\nto the firm conclusion that no struggle in Europe can be successful\nunless it is proclaimed from the very beginning as purely Socialistic.\nNo struggle can succeed in which social problems appear as nebulous\nelements kept in the background, while on the surface the fight is\nbeing conducted under the slogan of national revival of bourgeois\nrepublicanism.\"\n\nWe shall not attempt to criticize this bold conclusion. One thing is\nevident, namely that already at the middle of the nineteenth century the\nnational task of political emancipation could not be completed by a\nunanimous concerted onslaught of the entire nation. Only the independent\ntactics of the proletariat deriving its strength from no other source\nbut its class position, could have secured a victory of the revolution.\n\nThe Russian working class of 1906 differs entirely from the Vienna\nworking class of 1848. The best proof of it is the all-Russian practice\nof the Councils of Workmen's Deputies (Soviets). Those are no\norganizations of conspirators prepared beforehand to step forward in\ntimes of unrest and to seize command over the working class. They are\norgans consciously created by the masses themselves to cooerdinate their\nrevolutionary struggle. The Soviets, elected by and responsible to the\nmasses, are thoroughly democratic institutions following the most\ndetermined class policy in the spirit of revolutionary Socialism.\n\nThe differences in the social composition of the Russian revolution are\nclearly shown in the question of arming the people.\n\n_Militia_ (national guard) was the first slogan and the first\nachievement of the revolutions of 1789 and 1848 in Paris, in all the\nItalian states and in Vienna and Berlin. In 1846, the demand for a\nnational guard (i.e., the armament of the propertied classes and the\n\"intellectuals\") was put forth by the entire bourgeois opposition,\nincluding the most moderate factions. In Russia, the demand for a\nnational guard finds no favor with the bourgeois parties. This is not\nbecause the liberals do not understand the importance of arming the\npeople: absolutism has given them in this respect more than one object\nlesson. The reason why liberals do not like the idea of a national guard\nis because they fully realize the impossibility of creating in Russia an\narmed revolutionary force outside of the proletariat and against the\nproletariat. They are ready to give up this demand, as they give up many\nothers, just as the French bourgeoisie headed by Thiers preferred to\ngive up Paris and France to Bismarck rather than to arm the working\nclass.\n\nThe problem of an armed revolution in Russia becomes essentially a\nproblem of the proletariat. National militia, this classic demand of\nthe bourgeoisie of 1848, appears in Russia from the very beginning as a\ndemand for arming the people, primarily the working class. Herein the\nfate of the Russian revolution manifests itself most clearly.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE REVOLUTION AND THE PROLETARIAT\n\nA revolution is an open contest of social forces in their struggle for\npolitical power.\n\nThe state is not an end in itself. It is only a working machine in the\nhands of the social force in power. As every machine, the state has its\nmotor, transmission, and its operator. Its motive power is the class\ninterest; its motor are propaganda, the press, influences of school and\nchurch, political parties, open air meetings, petitions, insurrections;\nits transmission is made up of legislative bodies actuated by the\ninterest of a caste, a dynasty, a guild or a class appearing under the\nguise of Divine or national will (absolutism or parliamentarism); its\noperator is the administration, with its police, judiciary, jails, and\nthe army.\n\nThe state is not an end in itself. It is, however, the greatest means\nfor organizing, disorganizing and reorganizing social relations.\n\nAccording to who is directing the machinery of the State, it can be an\ninstrument of profoundest transformations, or a means of organized\nstagnation.\n\nEach political party worthy of its name strives to get hold of political\npower and thus to make the state serve the interests of the class\nrepresented by the party. Social-Democracy, as the party of the\nproletariat, naturally strives at political supremacy of the working\nclass.\n\nThe proletariat grows and gains strength with the growth of capitalism.\nFrom this viewpoint, the development of capitalism is the development of\nthe proletariat for dictatorship. The day and the hour, however, when\npolitical power should pass into the hands of the working class, is\ndetermined not directly by the degree of capitalistic development of\neconomic forces, but by the relations of class struggle, by the\ninternational situation, by a number of subjective elements, such as\ntradition, initiative, readiness to fight....\n\nIt is, therefore, not excluded that in a backward country with a lesser\ndegree of capitalistic development, the proletariat should sooner reach\npolitical supremacy than in a highly developed capitalist state. Thus,\nin middle-class Paris, the proletariat consciously took into its hands\nthe administration of public affairs in 1871. True it is, that the reign\nof the proletariat lasted only for two months, it is remarkable,\nhowever, that in far more advanced capitalist centers of England and the\nUnited States, the proletariat never was in power even for the duration\nof one day. To imagine that there is an automatic dependence between a\ndictatorship of the proletariat and the technical and productive\nresources of a country, is to understand economic determinism in a very\nprimitive way. Such a conception would have nothing to do with Marxism.\n\nIt is our opinion that the Russian revolution creates conditions whereby\npolitical power can (and, in case of a victorious revolution, _must_)\npass into the hands of the proletariat before the politicians of the\nliberal bourgeoisie would have occasion to give their political genius\nfull swing.\n\nSumming up the results of the revolution and counter-revolution in 1848\nand 1849, Marx wrote in his correspondences to the New York _Tribune_:\n\"The working class in Germany is, in its social and political\ndevelopment, as far behind that of England and France as the German\nbourgeoisie is behind the bourgeoisie of those countries. Like master,\nlike man. The evolution of the conditions of existence for a numerous,\nstrong, concentrated, and intelligent proletariat goes hand in hand\nwith the development of the conditions of existence for a numerous,\nwealthy, concentrated and powerful middle class. The working class\nmovement itself never is independent, never is of an exclusively\nproletarian character until all the different factions of the middle\nclass, and particularly its most progressive faction, the large\nmanufacturers, have conquered political power, and remodeled the State\naccording to their wants. It is then that the inevitable conflict\nbetween employer and the employed becomes imminent, and cannot be\nadjourned any longer.\"[1] This quotation must be familiar to the reader,\nas it has lately been very much abused by scholastic Marxists. It has\nbeen used as an iron-clad argument against the idea of a labor\ngovernment in Russia. If the Russian capitalistic bourgeoisie is not\nstrong enough to take governmental power into its hands, how is it\npossible to think of an industrial democracy, i.e., a political\nsupremacy of the proletariat, was the question.\n\n [1] Karl Marx, _Germany in 1848_. (English edition, pp. 22-23.)\n\nLet us give this objection closer consideration.\n\nMarxism is primarily a method of analysis,--not the analysis of texts,\nbut the analysis of social relations. Applied to Russia, is it true\nthat the weakness of capitalistic liberalism means the weakness of the\nworking class? Is it true, not in the abstract, but in relation to\nRussia, that an independent proletarian movement is impossible before\nthe bourgeoisie assume political power? It is enough to formulate these\nquestions in order to understand what hopeless logical formalism there\nis hidden behind the attempt to turn Marx's historically relative remark\ninto a super-historic maxim.\n\nOur industrial development, though marked in times of prosperity by\nleaps and bounds of an \"American\" character, is in reality miserably\nsmall in comparison with the industry of the United States. Five million\npersons, forming 16.6 per cent. of the population engaged in economic\npursuits, are employed in the industries of Russia; six millions and\n22.2 per cent. are the corresponding figures for the United States. To\nhave a clear idea as to the real dimensions of industry in both\ncountries, we must remember that the population of Russia is twice as\nlarge as the population of the United States, and that the output of\nAmerican industries in 1900 amounted to 25 billions of rubles whereas\nthe output of Russian industries for the same year hardly reached 2.5\nbillions.\n\nThere is no doubt that the number of the proletariat, the degree of its\nconcentration, its cultural level, and its political importance depend\nupon the degree of industrial development in each country.\n\nThis dependence, however, is not a direct one. Between the productive\nforces of a country on one side and the political strength of its social\nclasses on the other, there is at any given moment a current and cross\ncurrent of various socio-political factors of a national and\ninternational character which modify and sometimes completely reverse\nthe political expression of economic relations. The industry of the\nUnited States is far more advanced than the industry of Russia, while\nthe political role of the Russian workingmen, their influence on the\npolitical life of their country, the possibilities of their influence on\nworld politics in the near future, are incomparably greater than those\nof the American proletariat.\n\nIn his recent work on the American workingman, Kautsky arrives at the\nconclusion that there is no immediate and direct dependence between the\npolitical strength of the bourgeoisie and the proletariat of a country\non one hand and its industrial development on the other. \"Here are two\ncountries,\" he writes, \"diametrically opposed to each other: in one of\nthem, one of the elements of modern industry is developed out of\nproportion, i.e., out of keeping with the stage of capitalistic\ndevelopment; in the other, another; in America it is the class of\ncapitalists; in Russia, the class of labor. In America there is more\nground than elsewhere to speak of the dictatorship of capital, while\nnowhere has labor gained as much influence as in Russia, and this\ninfluence is bound to grow, as Russia has only recently entered the\nperiod of modern class struggle.\" Kautsky then proceeds to state that\nGermany can, to a certain degree, study her future from the present\nconditions in Russia, then he continues: \"It is strange to think that it\nis the Russian proletariat which shows us our future as far as, not the\norganization of capital, but the protest of the working class is\nconcerned. Russia is the most backward of all the great states of the\ncapitalist world. This may seem to be in contradiction with the economic\ninterpretation of history which considers economic strength the basis of\npolitical development. This is, however, not true. It contradicts only\nthat kind of economic interpretation of history which is being painted\nby our opponents and critics who see in it not a _method of analysis_,\nbut a _ready pattern_.\"[2] These lines ought to be recommended to those\nof our native Marxians who substitute for an independent analysis of\nsocial relations a deduction from texts selected for all emergencies of\nlife. No one can compromise Marxism as shamefully as these bureaucrats\nof Marxism do.\n\n [2] K. Kautsky, _The American and the Russian Workingman_.\n\nIn Kautsky's estimation, Russia is characterized, economically, by a\ncomparatively low level of capitalistic development; politically, by a\nweakness of the capitalistic bourgeoisie and by a great strength of the\nworking class. This results in the fact, that \"the struggle for the\ninterests of Russia as a whole has become the task of _the only powerful\nclass in Russia_, industrial labor. This is the reason why labor has\ngained such a tremendous political importance. This is the reason why\nthe struggle of Russia against the polyp of absolutism which is\nstrangling the country, turned out to be a single combat of absolutism\nagainst industrial labor, a combat where the peasantry can lend\nconsiderable assistance without, however, being able to play a leading\nrole.[3]\n\n [3] D. Mendeleyer, _Russian Realities_, 1906, p. 10.\n\nAre we not warranted in our conclusion that the \"man\" will sooner gain\npolitical supremacy in Russia than his \"master\"?\n\n * * * * *\n\nThere are two sorts of political optimism. One overestimates the\nadvantages and the strength of the revolution and strives towards ends\nunattainable under given conditions. The other consciously limits the\ntask of the revolution, drawing a line which the very logic of the\nsituation will compel him to overstep.\n\nYou can draw limits to all the problems of the revolution by asserting\nthat this is a bourgeois revolution in its objective aims and inevitable\nresults, and you can close your eyes to the fact that the main figure in\nthis revolution is the working class which is being moved towards\npolitical supremacy by the very course of events.\n\nYou can reassure yourself by saying that in the course of a bourgeois\nrevolution the political supremacy of the working class can be only a\npassing episode, and you can forget that, once in power, the working\nclass will offer desperate resistance, refusing to yield unless\ncompelled to do so by armed force.\n\nYou can reassure yourself by saying that social conditions in Russia are\nnot yet ripe for a Socialist order, and you can overlook the fact that,\nonce master of the situation, the working class would be compelled by\nthe very logic of its situation to organize national economy under the\nmanagement of the state.\n\nThe term _bourgeois revolution_, a general sociological definition,\ngives no solution to the numerous political and tactical problems,\ncontradictions and difficulties which are being created by the mechanism\nof a _given_ bourgeois revolution.\n\nWithin the limits of a bourgeois revolution at the end of the eighteenth\ncentury, whose objective was the political supremacy of capital, the\ndictatorship of the _Sans-Culottes_ turned out to be a fact. This\ndictatorship was not a passing episode, it gave its stamp to a whole\ncentury that followed the revolution, though it was soon crushed by the\nlimitations of the revolution.\n\nWithin the limits of a revolution at the beginning of the twentieth\ncentury, which is also a bourgeois revolution in its immediate objective\naims, there looms up a prospect of an inevitable, or at least possible,\nsupremacy of the working class in the near future. That this supremacy\nshould not turn out to be a passing episode, as many a realistic\nPhilistine may hope, is a task which the working class will have at\nheart. It is, then, legitimate to ask: is it inevitable that the\ndictatorship of the proletariat should clash against the limitations of\na bourgeois revolution and collapse, or is it not possible that under\ngiven _international conditions_ it may open a way for an ultimate\nvictory by crushing those very limitations? Hence a tactical problem:\nshould we consciously strive toward a labor government as the\ndevelopment of the revolution will bring us nearer to that stage, or\nshould we look upon political power as upon a calamity which the\nbourgeois revolution is ready to inflict upon the workingmen, and which\nit is best to avoid?\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE PROLETARIAT IN POWER AND THE PEASANTRY\n\nIn case of a victorious revolution, political power passes into the\nhands of the class that has played in it a dominant role, in other\nwords, it passes into the hands of the working class. Of course,\nrevolutionary representatives of non-proletarian social groups may not\nbe excluded from the government; sound politics demands that the\nproletariat should call into the government influential leaders of the\nlower middle class, the intelligentzia and the peasants. The problem is,\n_Who will give substance to the politics of the government, who will\nform in it a homogeneous majority?_ It is one thing when the government\ncontains a labor majority, which representatives of other democratic\ngroups of the people are allowed to join; it is another, when the\ngovernment has an outspoken bourgeois-democratic character where labor\nrepresentatives are allowed to participate in the capacity of more or\nless honorable hostages.\n\nThe policies of the liberal capitalist bourgeoisie, notwithstanding all\ntheir vacillations, retreats and treacheries, are of a definite\ncharacter. The policies of the proletariat are of a still more definite,\noutspoken character. The policies of the intelligentzia, however, a\nresult of intermediate social position and political flexibility of this\ngroup; the politics of the peasants, a result of the social\nheterogeneity, intermediate position, and primitiveness of this class;\nthe politics of the lower middle class, a result of muddle-headedness,\nintermediate position and complete want of political traditions,--can\nnever be clear, determined, and firm. It must necessarily be subject to\nunexpected turns, to uncertainties and surprises.\n\nTo imagine a revolutionary democratic government without representatives\nof labor is to see the absurdity of such a situation. A refusal of labor\nto participate in a revolutionary government would make the very\nexistence of that government impossible, and would be tantamount to a\nbetrayal of the cause of the revolution. A participation of labor in a\nrevolutionary government, however, is admissible, both from the\nviewpoint of objective probability and subjective desirability, _only\nin the role of a leading dominant power_. Of course, you can call such a\ngovernment \"dictatorship of the proletariat and peasantry,\"\n\"dictatorship of the proletariat, the peasantry, and the\nintelligentzia,\" or \"a revolutionary government of the workingmen and\nthe lower middle class.\" This question will still remain: Who has the\nhegemony in the government and through it in the country? _When we speak\nof a labor government we mean that the hegemony belongs to the working\nclass._\n\nThe proletariat will be able to hold this position under one condition:\nif it broadens the basis of the revolution.\n\nMany elements of the working masses, especially among the rural\npopulation, will be drawn into the revolution and receive their\npolitical organization only after the first victories of the revolution,\nwhen the revolutionary vanguard, the city proletariat, shall have seized\ngovernmental power. Under such conditions, the work of propaganda and\norganization will be conducted through state agencies. Legislative work\nitself will become a powerful means of revolutionizing the masses. The\nburden thrust upon the shoulders of the working class by the\npeculiarities of our social and historical development, the burden of\ncompleting a bourgeois revolution by means of labor struggle, will thus\nconfront the proletariat with difficulties of enormous magnitude; on the\nother hand, however, it will offer the working class, at least in the\nfirst period, unusual opportunities. This will be seen in the relations\nbetween the proletariat and the peasants.\n\nIn the revolutions of 1789-93, and 1848, governmental power passed from\nabsolutism into the hands of the moderate bourgeois elements which\nemancipated the peasants before revolutionary democracy succeeded or\neven attempted to get into power. The emancipated peasantry then lost\ninterest in the political ventures of the \"city-gentlemen,\" i.e., in the\nfurther course of the revolution; it formed the dead ballast of \"order,\"\nthe foundation of all social \"stability,\" betraying the revolution,\nsupporting a Cesarian or ultra-absolutist reaction.\n\nThe Russian revolution is opposed to a bourgeois constitutional order\nwhich would be able to solve the most primitive problems of democracy.\nThe Russian revolution will be against it for a long period to come.\nReformers of a bureaucratic brand, such as Witte and Stolypin, can do\nnothing for the peasants, as their \"enlightened\" efforts are continually\nnullified by their own struggle for existence. The fate of the most\nelementary interests of the peasantry--the entire peasantry as a\nclass--is, therefore, closely connected with the fate of the revolution,\ni.e., with the fate of the proletariat.\n\n_Once in power, the proletariat will appear before the peasantry as its\nliberator._\n\nProletarian rule will mean not only democratic equality, free\nself-government, shifting the burden of taxation on the propertied\nclasses, dissolution of the army among the revolutionary people,\nabolition of compulsory payments for the Church, but also recognition of\nall revolutionary changes made by the peasants in agrarian relations\n(seizures of land). These changes will be taken by the proletariat as a\nstarting point for further legislative measures in agriculture. Under\nsuch conditions, the Russian peasantry will be interested in upholding\nthe proletarian rule (\"labor democracy\"), at least in the first, most\ndifficult period, not less so than were the French peasants interested\nin upholding the military rule of Napoleon Bonaparte who by force\nguaranteed to the new owners the integrity of their land shares.\n\nBut is it not possible that the peasants will remove the workingmen\nfrom their positions and take their place? No, this can never happen.\nThis would be in contradiction to all historical experiences. History\nhas convincingly shown that the peasantry is incapable of an independent\npolitical role.\n\nThe history of capitalism is the history of subordination of the village\nby the city. Industrial development had made the continuation of feudal\nrelations in agriculture impossible. Yet the peasantry had not produced\na class which could live up to the revolutionary task of destroying\nfeudalism. It was the city which made rural population dependent on\ncapital, and which produced revolutionary forces to assume political\nhegemony over the village, there to complete revolutionary changes in\ncivic and political relations. In the course of further development, the\nvillage becomes completely enslaved by capital, and the villagers by\ncapitalistic political parties, which revive feudalism in parliamentary\npolitics, making the peasantry their political domain, the ground for\ntheir preelection huntings. Modern peasantry is driven by the fiscal and\nmilitaristic system of the state into the clutches of usurers' capital,\nwhile state-clergy, state-schools and barrack depravity drive it into\nthe clutches of usurers' politics.\n\nThe Russian bourgeoisie yielded all revolutionary positions to the\nRussian proletariat. It will have to yield also the revolutionary\nhegemony over the peasants. Once the proletariat becomes master of the\nsituation, conditions will impel the peasants to uphold the policies of\na labor democracy. They may do it with no more political understanding\nthan they uphold a bourgeois regime. The difference is that while each\nbourgeois party in possession of the peasants' vote uses its power to\nrob the peasants, to betray their confidence and to leave their\nexpectations unfulfilled, in the worst case to give way to another\ncapitalist party, the working class, backed by the peasantry, will put\nall forces into operation to raise the cultural level of the village and\nto broaden the political understanding of the peasants.\n\nOur attitude towards the idea of a \"dictatorship of the proletariat and\nthe peasantry\" is now quite clear. It is not a question whether we think\nit \"admissible\" or not, whether we \"wish\" or we \"do not wish\" this form\nof political cooeperation. In our opinion, it simply cannot be realized,\nat least in its direct meaning. Such a cooeperation presupposes that\neither the peasantry has identified itself with one of the existing\nbourgeois parties, or it has formed a powerful party of its own. Neither\nis possible, as we have tried to point out.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nPROLETARIAN RULE\n\nThe proletariat can get into power only at a moment of national\nupheaval, of sweeping national enthusiasm. The proletariat assumes power\nas a revolutionary representative of the people, as a recognized leader\nin the fight against absolutism and barbaric feudalism. Having assumed\npower, however, the proletariat will open a new era, an era of positive\nlegislation, of revolutionary politics, and this is the point where its\npolitical supremacy as an avowed spokesman of the nation may become\nendangered.\n\nThe first measures of the proletariat--the cleansing of the Augean\nstables of the old regime and the driving away of their\ninhabitants--will find active support of the entire nation whatever the\nliberal castraters may tell us of the power of some prejudices among the\nmasses. The work of political cleansing will be accompanied by\ndemocratic reorganization of all social and political relations. The\nlabor government, impelled by immediate needs and requirements, will\nhave to look into all kinds of relations and activities among the\npeople. It will have to throw out of the army and the administration all\nthose who had stained their hands with the blood of the people; it will\nhave to disband all the regiments that had polluted themselves with\ncrimes against the people. This work will have to be done immediately,\nlong before the establishment of an elective responsible administration\nand before the organization of a popular militia. This, however, will be\nonly a beginning. Labor democracy will soon be confronted by the\nproblems of a normal workday, the agrarian relations and unemployment.\nThe legislative solution of those problems will show the _class\ncharacter_ of the labor government. It will tend to weaken the\nrevolutionary bond between the proletariat and the nation; it will give\nthe economic differentiation among the peasants a political expression.\nAntagonism between the component parts of the nation will grow step by\nstep as the policies of the labor government become more outspoken, lose\ntheir general democratic character and become _class policies_.\n\nThe lack of individualistic bourgeois traditions and anti-proletarian\nprejudices among the peasants and the intelligentzia will help the\nproletariat assume power. It must not be forgotten, however, that this\nlack of prejudices is based not on political understanding, but on\npolitical barbarism, on social shapelessness, primitiveness, and lack of\ncharacter. These are all qualities which can hardly guarantee support\nfor an active, consistent proletarian rule.\n\nThe abolition of the remnants of feudalism in agrarian relations will be\nsupported by all the peasants who are now oppressed by the landlords. A\nprogressive income tax will be supported by an overwhelming majority of\nthe peasants. Yet, legislative measures in defense of the rural\nproletariat (farm hands) will find no active support among the majority,\nand will meet with active opposition on the part of a minority of the\npeasants.\n\nThe proletariat will be compelled to introduce class struggle into the\nvillage and thus to destroy that slight community of interests which\nundoubtedly unites the peasants as a whole. In its next steps, the\nproletariat will have to seek for support by helping the poor villagers\nagainst the rich, the rural proletariat against the agrarian\nbourgeoisie. This will alienate the majority of the peasants from labor\ndemocracy. Relations between village and city will become strained. The\npeasantry as a whole will become politically indifferent. The peasant\nminority will actively oppose proletarian rule. This will influence part\nof the intellectuals and the lower middle class of the cities.\n\nTwo features of proletarian politics are bound particularly to meet with\nthe opposition of labor's allies: _Collectivism_ and _Internationalism_.\nThe strong adherence of the peasants to private ownership, the\nprimitiveness of their political conceptions, the limitations of the\nvillage horizon, its distance from world-wide political connections and\ninterdependences, are terrific obstacles in the way of revolutionary\nproletarian rule.\n\nTo imagine that Social-Democracy participates in the provisional\ngovernment, playing a leading role in the period of revolutionary\ndemocratic reconstruction, insisting on the most radical reforms\nand all the time enjoying the aid and support of the organized\nproletariat,--only to step aside when the democratic program is put into\noperation, to leave the completed building at the disposal of the\nbourgeois parties and thus to open an era of parliamentary politics\nwhere Social-Democracy forms only a party of opposition,--to imagine\nthis would mean to compromise the very idea of a labor government. It is\nimpossible to imagine anything of the kind, not because it is \"against\nprinciples\"--such abstract reasoning is devoid of any substance--but\nbecause it is _not real_, it is the worst kind of Utopianism, it is the\nrevolutionary Utopianism of Philistines.\n\nOur distinction between a minimum and maximum program has a great and\nprofound meaning only under bourgeois rule. The very fact of bourgeois\nrule eliminates from our minimum program all demands incompatible with\nprivate ownership of the means of production. Those demands form the\nsubstance of a Socialist revolution, and they presuppose a dictatorship\nof the proletariat. The moment, however, a revolutionary government is\ndominated by a Socialist majority, the distinction between minimum and\nmaximum programs loses its meaning both as a question of principle and\nas a practical policy. _Under no condition will a proletarian government\nbe able to keep within the limits of this distinction._\n\nLet us take the case of an eight hour workday. It is a well established\nfact that an eight hour workday does not contradict the capitalist\norder; it is, therefore, well within the limits of the Social-Democratic\nminimum program. Imagine, however, its realization in a revolutionary\nperiod, when all social passions are at the boiling point. An eight hour\nworkday law would necessarily meet with stubborn and organized\nopposition on the part of the capitalists--let us say in the form of a\nlock-out and closing down of factories and plants. Hundreds of thousands\nof workingmen would be thrown into the streets. What ought the\nrevolutionary government to do? A bourgeois government, however radical,\nwould never allow matters to go as far as that. It would be powerless\nagainst the closing of factories and plants. It would be compelled to\nmake concessions. The eight hour workday would not be put into\noperation; the revolts of the workingmen would be put down by force of\narms....\n\nUnder the political domination of the proletariat, the introduction of\nan eight hour workday must have totally different consequences. The\nclosing down of factories and plants cannot be the reason for increasing\nlabor hours by a government which represents not capital, but labor, and\nwhich refuses to act as an \"impartial\" mediator, the way bourgeois\ndemocracy does. A labor government would have only one way out--to\nexpropriate the closed factories and plants and to organize their work\non a public basis.\n\nOr let us take another example. A proletarian government must\nnecessarily take decisive steps to solve the problem of unemployment.\nRepresentatives of labor in a revolutionary government can by no means\nmeet the demands of the unemployed by saying that this is a bourgeois\nrevolution. Once, however, the state ventures to eliminate\nunemployment--no matter how--a tremendous gain in the economic power of\nthe proletariat is accomplished. The capitalists whose pressure on the\nworking class was based on the existence of a reserve army of labor,\nwill soon realize that they are powerless _economically_. It will be the\ntask of the government to doom them also to _political_ oblivion.\n\nMeasures against unemployment mean also measures to secure means of\nsubsistence for strikers. The government will have to undertake them, if\nit is anxious not to undermine the very foundation of its existence.\nNothing will remain for the capitalists but to declare a lock-out, to\nclose down factories and plants. Since capitalists can wait longer than\nlabor in case of interrupted production, nothing will remain for a labor\ngovernment but to meet a general lock-out by expropriating the factories\nand plants and by introducing in the biggest of them state or communal\nproduction.\n\nIn agriculture, similar problems will present themselves through the\nvery fact of land-expropriation. We cannot imagine a proletarian\ngovernment expropriating large private estates with agricultural\nproduction on a large scale, cutting them into pieces and selling them\nto small owners. For it the only open way is to organize in such estates\ncooeperative production under communal or state management. This,\nhowever, _is the way of Socialism_.\n\nSocial-Democracy can never assume power under a double obligation: to\nput the _entire_ minimum program into operation for the sake of the\nproletariat, and to keep strictly _within the limits_ of this program,\nfor the sake of the bourgeoisie. Such a double obligation could never be\nfulfilled. Participating in the government, not as powerless hostages,\nbut as a leading force, the representatives of labor _eo ipso_ break the\nline between the minimum and maximum program. _Collectivism becomes the\norder of the day._ At which point the proletariat will be stopped on\nits march in this direction, depends upon the constellation of forces,\nnot upon the original purpose of the proletarian Party.\n\nIt is, therefore, absurd to speak of a _specific_ character of\nproletarian dictatorship (or a dictatorship of the proletariat _and_ the\npeasantry) within a bourgeois revolution, viz., a _purely democratic_\ndictatorship. The working class can never secure the democratic\ncharacter of its dictatorship without overstepping the limits of its\ndemocratic program. Illusions to the contrary may become a handicap.\nThey would compromise Social-Democracy from the start.\n\nOnce the proletariat assumes power, it will fight for it to the end. One\nof the means to secure and solidify its power will be propaganda and\norganization, particularly in the village; another means will be a\n_policy of Collectivism_. Collectivism is not only dictated by the very\nposition of the Social-Democratic Party as the party in power, but it\nbecomes imperative as a means to secure this position through the active\nsupport of the working class.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWhen our Socialist press first formulated the idea of a _Permanent\nRevolution_ which should lead from the liquidation of absolutism and\ncivic bondage to a Socialist order through a series of ever growing\nsocial conflicts, uprisings of ever new masses, unremitting attacks of\nthe proletariat on the political and economic privileges of the\ngoverning classes, our \"progressive\" press started a unanimous indignant\nuproar. Oh, they had suffered enough, those gentlemen of the\n\"progressive\" press; this nuisance, however, was too much. Revolution,\nthey said, is not a thing that can be made \"legal!\" Extraordinary\nmeasures are allowable only on extraordinary occasions. The aim of the\nrevolutionary movement, they asserted, was not to make the revolution go\non forever, but to bring it as soon as possible into the channels of\n_law_, etc., etc. The more radical representatives of the same\ndemocratic bourgeoisie do not attempt to oppose the revolution from the\nstandpoint of completed constitutional \"achievements\": tame as they are,\nthey understand how hopeless it is to fight the proletariat revolution\nwith the weapon of parliamentary cretinism _in advance_ of the\nestablishment of parliamentarism itself. They, therefore, choose another\nway. They forsake the standpoint of law, but take the standpoint of what\nthey deem to be facts,--the standpoint of historic \"possibilities,\" the\nstandpoint of political \"realism,\"--even ... even the standpoint of\n\"Marxism.\" It was Antonio, the pious Venetian bourgeois, who made the\nstriking observation:\n\n Mark you this, Bassanio,\n The devil can cite scriptures for his purpose.\n\nThose gentlemen not only consider the idea of labor government in Russia\nfantastic, but they repudiate the very probability of a Social\nrevolution in Europe in the near historic epoch. The necessary\n\"prerequisites\" are not yet in existence, is their assertion.\n\nIs it so? It is, of course, not our purpose to set a time for a Social\nrevolution. What we attempt here is to put the Social revolution into a\nproper historic perspective.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nPREREQUISITES TO SOCIALISM\n\nMarxism turned Socialism into a science. This does not prevent some\n\"Marxians\" from turning Marxism into a Utopia.\n\n [Trotzky then proceeds to find logical flaws in the arguments of N.\n Roshkov, a Russian Marxist, who had made the assertion that Russia\n was not yet ripe for Socialism, as her level of industrial technique\n and the class-consciousness of her working masses were not yet high\n enough to make Socialist production and distribution possible. Then\n he goes back to what he calls \"prerequisites to Socialism,\" which in\n his opinion are: (1) development of industrial technique; (2)\n concentration of production; (3) social consciousness of the masses.\n In order that Socialism become possible, he says, it is not\n necessary that each of these prerequisites be developed to its\n logically conceivable limit.]\n\nAll those processes (development of technique, concentration of\nproduction, growth of mass-consciousness) go on simultaneously, and not\nonly do they help and stimulate each other, but they also _hamper and\nlimit_ each other's development. Each of the processes of a higher order\npresupposes the development of another process of a lower order, yet the\nfull development of any of them is incompatible with the full\ndevelopment of the others.\n\nThe logical limit of technical development is undoubtedly a perfect\nautomatic mechanism which takes in raw materials from natural resources\nand lays them down at the feet of men as ready objects of consumption.\nWere not capitalism limited by relations between classes and by the\nconsequences of those relations, the class struggle, one would be\nwarranted in his assumption that industrial technique, having approached\nthe ideal of one great automatic mechanism within the limits of\ncapitalistic economy, _eo ipso_ dismisses capitalism.\n\nThe concentration of production which is an outgrowth of economic\ncompetition has an inherent tendency to throw the entire population into\nthe working class. Taking this tendency apart from all the others, one\nwould be warranted in his assumption that capitalism would ultimately\nturn the majority of the people into a reserve army of paupers, lodged\nin prisons. This process, however, is being checked by revolutionary\nchanges which are inevitable under a certain relationship between social\nforces. It will be checked long before it has reached its logical limit.\n\nAnd the same thing is true in relation to social mass-consciousness.\nThis consciousness undoubtedly grows with the experiences of every day\nstruggle and through the conscious efforts of Socialist parties.\nIsolating this process from all others, we can imagine it reaching a\nstage where the overwhelming majority of the people are encompassed by\nprofessional and political organizations, united in a feeling of\nsolidarity and in identity of purpose. Were this process allowed to grow\nquantitatively without changing in quality, Socialism might be\nestablished peacefully, through a unanimous compact of the citizens of\nthe twenty-first or twenty-second Century. The historic prerequisites to\nSocialism, however, do not develop in isolation from each other; _they\nlimit each other_; reaching a certain stage, which is determined by many\ncircumstances, but which is very far from their mathematical limits,\nthey undergo a qualitative change, and in their complex combination they\nproduce what we call a Social revolution.\n\nLet us take the last mentioned process, the growth of social\nmass-consciousness. This growth takes place not in academies, but in the\nvery life of modern capitalistic society, on the basis of incessant\nclass struggle. The growth of proletarian class consciousness makes\nclass struggles undergo a transformation; it deepens them; it puts a\nfoundation of principle under them, thus provoking a corresponding\nreaction on the part of the governing classes. The struggle between\nproletariat and bourgeoisie has its own logic; it must become more and\nmore acute and bring things to a climax long before the time when\nconcentration of production has become predominant in economic life. It\nis evident, further, that the growth of the political consciousness of\nthe proletariat is closely related with its numerical strength;\nproletarian dictatorship presupposes great numbers of workingmen, strong\nenough to overcome the resistance of the bourgeois counter-revolution.\nThis, however, does not imply that the overwhelming majority of the\npeople must consist of proletarians, or that the overwhelming majority\nof proletarians must consist of convinced Socialists. Of course, the\nfighting revolutionary army of the proletariat must by all means be\nstronger than the fighting counter-revolutionary army of capital; yet\nbetween those two camps there may be a great number of doubtful or\nindifferent elements who are not actively helping the revolution, but\nare rather inclined to desire its ultimate victory. The proletarian\npolicy must take all this into account.\n\nThis is possible only where there is a hegemony of industry over\nagriculture, and a hegemony of the city over the village.\n\nLet us review the prerequisites to Socialism in the order of their\ndiminishing generality and increasing complexity.\n\n1. Socialism is not only a problem of equal distribution, but also a\nproblem of well organized production. Socialistic, i.e., cooeperative\nproduction on a large scale is possible only where economic progress has\ngone so far as to make a large undertaking more productive than a small\none. The greater the advantages of a large undertaking over a small one,\ni.e., the higher the industrial technique, the greater must be the\neconomic advantages of socialized production, the higher, consequently,\nmust be the cultural level of the people to enable them to enjoy equal\ndistribution based on well organized production.\n\nThis first prerequisite of Socialism has been in existence for many\nyears. Ever since division of labor has been established in\nmanufactories; ever since manufactories have been superseded by\nfactories employing a system of machines,--large undertakings become\nmore and more profitable, and consequently their socialization would\nmake the people more prosperous. There would have been no gain in making\nall the artisans' shops common property of the artisans; whereas the\nseizure of a manufactory by its workers, or the seizure of a factory by\nits hired employees, or the seizure of all means of modern production by\nthe people must necessarily improve their economic conditions,--the more\nso, the further the process of economic concentration has advanced.\n\nAt present, social division of labor on one hand, machine production on\nthe other have reached a stage where the only cooeperative organization\nthat can make adequate use of the advantages of collectivist economy, is\nthe State. It is hardly conceivable that Socialist production would\ncontent itself with the area of the state. Economic and political\nmotives would necessarily impel it to overstep the boundaries of\nindividual states.\n\nThe world has been in possession of technical equipment for collective\nproduction--in one or another form--for the last hundred or two hundred\nyears. _Technically_, Socialism is profitable not only on a national,\nbut also to a large extent on an international scale. Why then have all\nattempts at organizing Socialist communities failed? Why has\nconcentration of production manifested its advantages all through the\neighteenth and nineteenth centuries not in Socialistic, but in\ncapitalistic forms? The reason is that there was no social force ready\nand able to introduce Socialism.\n\n2. Here we pass from the prerequisite of industrial technique to the\n_socio-economic_ prerequisite, which is less general, but more complex.\nWere our society not an antagonistic society composed of classes, but a\nhomogeneous partnership of men consciously selecting the best economic\nsystem, a mere calculation as to the advantages of Socialism would\nsuffice to make people start Socialistic reconstruction. Our society,\nhowever, harbors in itself opposing interests. What is good for one\nclass, is bad for another. Class selfishness clashes against class\nselfishness; class selfishness impairs the interests of the whole. To\nmake Socialism possible, a social power has to arise in the midst of the\nantagonistic classes of capitalist society, a power objectively placed\nin a position to be interested in the establishment of Socialism, at\nthe same time strong enough to overcome all opposing interests and\nhostile resistance. It is one of the principal merits of scientific\nSocialism to have discovered such a social power in the person of the\nproletariat, and to have shown that this class, growing with the growth\nof capitalism, can find its salvation only in Socialism; that it is\nbeing moved towards Socialism by its very position, and that the\ndoctrine of Socialism in the presence of a capitalist society must\nnecessarily become the ideology of the proletariat.\n\nHow far, then, must the social differentiation have gone to warrant the\nassertion that the second prerequisite is an accomplished fact? In other\nwords, what must be the numerical strength of the proletariat? Must it\nbe one-half, two-thirds, or nine-tenths of the people? It is utterly\nfutile to try and formulate this second prerequisite of Socialism\narithmetically. An attempt to express the strength of the proletariat in\nmere numbers, besides being schematic, would imply a series of\ndifficulties. Whom should we consider a proletarian? Is the\nhalf-paupered peasant a proletarian? Should we count with the\nproletariat those hosts of the city reserve who, on one hand, fall into\nthe ranks of the parasitic proletariat of beggars and thieves, and, on\nthe other hand, fill the streets in the capacity of peddlers, i.e., of\nparasites on the economic body as a whole? It is not easy to answer\nthese questions.\n\nThe importance of the proletariat is based not only on its numbers, but\nprimarily on its role in industry. The political supremacy of the\nbourgeoisie is founded on economic power. Before it manages to take over\nthe authority of the state, it concentrates in its hands the national\nmeans of production; hence its specific weight. The proletariat will\npossess no means of production of its own before the Social revolution.\nIts social power depends upon the circumstance that the means of\nproduction in possession of the bourgeoisie can be put into motion only\nby the hands of the proletariat. From the bourgeois viewpoint, the\nproletariat is also one of the means of production, forming, in\ncombination with the others, a unified mechanism. Yet the proletariat is\nthe only non-automatic part of this mechanism, and can never be made\nautomatic, notwithstanding all efforts. This puts the proletariat into a\nposition to be able to stop the functioning of the national economic\nbody, partially or wholly--through the medium of partial or general\nstrikes.\n\nHence it is evident that, the numerical strength of the proletariat\nbeing equal, its importance is proportional to the mass of the means of\nproduction it puts into motion: the proletarian of a big industrial\nconcern represents--other conditions being equal--a greater social unit\nthan an artisan's employee; a city workingman represents a greater unit\nthan a proletarian of the village. In other words, the political role of\nthe proletariat is greater in proportion as large industries predominate\nover small industries, industry predominates over agriculture, and the\ncity over the village.\n\nAt a period in the history of Germany or England when the proletariats\nof those countries formed the same percentage to the total population as\nthe proletariat in present day Russia, they did not possess the same\nsocial weight as the Russian proletariat of to-day. They could not\npossess it, because their objective importance in economic life was\ncomparatively smaller. The social weight of the cities represents the\nsame phenomenon. At a time when the city population of Germany formed\nonly 15 per cent. of the total nation, as is the case in present-day\nRussia, the German cities were far from equaling our cities in economic\nand political importance. The concentration of big industries and\ncommercial enterprises in the cities, and the establishment of closer\nrelations between city and country through a system of railways, has\ngiven the modern cities an importance far exceeding the mere volume of\ntheir population. Moreover, the growth of their importance runs ahead of\nthe growth of their population, and the growth of the latter runs ahead\nof the natural increase of the entire population of the country. In\n1848, the number of artisans, masters and their employees, in Italy was\n15 per cent. of the population, the same as the percentage of the\nproletariat, including artisans, in Russia of to-day. Their importance,\nhowever, was far less than that of the Russian industrial proletariat.\n\nThe question is not, how strong the proletariat is numerically, but what\nis its position in the general economy of a country.\n\n [The author then quotes figures showing the numbers of wage-earners\n and industrial proletarians in Germany, Belgium and England: in\n Germany, in 1895, 12.5 millions proletarians; in Belgium 1.8\n millions, or 60 per cent. of all the persons who make a living\n independently; in England 12.5 millions.]\n\nIn the leading European countries, city population numerically\npredominates over the rural population. Infinitely greater is its\npredominance through the aggregate of means of production represented by\nit, and through the qualities of its human material. The city attracts\nthe most energetic, able and intelligent elements of the country.\n\nThus we arrive at the conclusion that economic evolution--the growth of\nindustry, the growth of large enterprises, the growth of cities, the\ngrowth of the proletariat, especially the growth of the industrial\nproletariat--have already prepared the arena not only for the _struggle_\nof the proletariat for political power, but also for the _conquest_ of\nthat power.\n\n3. Here we approach the third prerequisite to Socialism, the\n_dictatorship of the proletariat_.\n\nPolitics is the plane where objective prerequisites intersect with\nsubjective. On the basis of certain technical and socio-economic\nconditions, a class puts before itself a definite task--to seize power.\nIn pursuing this task, it unites its forces, it gauges the forces of the\nenemy, it weighs the circumstances. Yet, not even here is the\nproletariat absolutely free: besides subjective moments, such as\nunderstanding, readiness, initiative which have a logic of their own,\nthere are a number of objective moments interfering with the policies of\nthe proletariat, such are the policies of the governing classes, state\ninstitutions (the army, the class-school, the state-church),\ninternational relations, etc.\n\nLet us first turn our attention to the subjective moment; let us ask,\n_Is the proletariat ready for a Socialist change?_ It is not enough that\ndevelopment of technique should make Socialist economy profitable from\nthe viewpoint of the productivity of national labor; it is not enough\nthat social differentiation, based on technical progress, should create\nthe proletariat, as a class objectively interested in Socialism. It is\nof prime importance that this class should _understand_ its objective\ninterests. It is necessary that this class should _see_ in Socialism the\nonly way of its emancipation. It is necessary that it should unite into\nan army powerful enough to seize governmental power in open combat.\n\nIt would be a folly to deny the necessity for the preparation of the\nproletariat. Only the old Blanquists could stake their hopes in the\nsalutary initiative of an organization of conspirators formed\nindependently of the masses. Only their antipodes, the anarchists, could\nbuild their system on a spontaneous elemental outburst of the masses\nwhose results nobody can foresee. When Social-Democracy speaks of\nseizing power, it thinks of _a deliberate action of a revolutionary\nclass_.\n\nThere are Socialists-ideologists (ideologists in the wrong sense of the\nword, those who turn all things upside down) who speak of preparing the\nproletariat for Socialism as a problem of moral regeneration. The\nproletariat, they say, and even \"humanity\" in general, must first free\nitself from its old selfish nature; altruistic motives must first become\npredominant in social life. As we are still very far from this ideal,\nthey contend, and as human nature changes very slowly, Socialism appears\nto be a problem of remote centuries. This view seems to be very\nrealistic, evolutionistic, etc. It is in reality a conglomeration of\nhackneyed moralistic considerations.\n\nThose \"ideologists\" imagine that a Socialist psychology can be acquired\nbefore the establishment of Socialism; that in a world ruled by\ncapitalism the masses can be imbued with a Socialist psychology.\nSocialist psychology as here conceived should not be identified with\nSocialist aspirations. The former presupposes the absence of selfish\nmotives in economic relations, while the latter are an outcome of the\nclass psychology of the proletariat. Class psychology, and Socialist\npsychology in a society not split into classes, may have many common\nfeatures, yet they differ widely.\n\nCooeperation in the struggle of the proletariat against exploitation has\ndeveloped in the soul of the workingmen beautiful sprouts of idealism,\nbrotherly solidarity, a spirit of self-sacrifice. Yet those sprouts\ncannot grow and blossom freely within capitalist society: individual\nstruggle for existence, the yawning abyss of poverty, differentiations\namong the workingmen themselves, the corrupting influence of the\nbourgeois parties,--all this interferes with the growth of idealism\namong the masses.\n\nHowever, it is a fact that, while remaining selfish as any of the lower\nmiddle class, while not exceeding the average representative of the\nbourgeois classes by the \"human\" value of his personality, the average\nworkingman learns in the school of life's experience that _his most\nprimitive desires and most natural wants can be satisfied only on the\ndebris of the capitalist order_.\n\nIf Socialism should attempt to create a new human nature within the\nlimits of the old world, it would be only a new edition of the old\nmoralistic Utopias. The task of Socialism is not to create a Socialist\npsychology as a prerequisite to Socialism, but to create Socialist\nconditions of human life as a prerequisite to a Socialist psychology.\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nA LABOR GOVERNMENT IN RUSSIA AND SOCIALISM\n\nThe objective prerequisites of a Social revolution, as we have shown\nabove, have been already created by the economic progress of advanced\ncapitalist countries. But how about Russia? Is it possible to think that\nthe seizure of power by the Russian proletariat would be the beginning\nof a Socialist reconstruction of our national economy?\n\nA year ago we thus answered this question in an article which was\nmercilessly bombarded by the organs of both our factions. We wrote:\n\n\"The workingmen of Paris, says Marx, had not expected miracles from the\nCommune. We cannot expect miracles from a proletarian dictatorship now.\nGovernmental power is not almighty. It is folly to think that once the\nproletariat has seized power, it would abolish capitalism and introduce\nsocialism by a number of decrees. The economic system is not a product\nof state activity. What the proletariat will be able to do is to\nshorten economic evolution towards Collectivism through a series of\nenergetic state measures.\n\n\"The starting point will be the reforms enumerated in our so-called\nminimum program. The very situation of the proletariat, however, will\ncompel it to move along the way of collectivist practice.\n\n\"It will be comparatively easy to introduce the eight hour workday and\nprogressive taxation, though even here the center of gravity is not the\nissuance of a 'decree,' but the organization of its practical\napplication. It will be difficult, however,--and here we pass to\nCollectivism--to organize production under state management in such\nfactories and plants as would be closed down by their owners in protest\nagainst the new law.\n\n\"It will be comparatively simple to issue a law abolishing the right of\ninheritance, and to put it into operation. Inheritances in the form of\nmoney capital will not embarrass the proletariat and not interfere with\nits economy. To be, however, the inheritor of capital invested in land\nand industry, would mean for a labor government to organize economic\nlife on a public basis.\n\n\"The same phenomenon, on a vastly larger scale, is represented by the\nquestion of expropriation (of land), with or without compensation.\nExpropriation with compensation has political advantages, but it is\nfinancially difficult; expropriation without compensation has financial\nadvantages, but it is difficult politically. Greater than all the other\ndifficulties, however, will be those of an economic nature, the\ndifficulties of organization.\n\n\"To repeat: a labor government does not mean a government of miracles.\n\n\"Public management will begin in those branches where the difficulties\nare smallest. Publicly managed enterprises will originally represent\nkind of oases linked with private enterprises by the laws of exchange of\ncommodities. The wider the field of publicly managed economy will grow,\nthe more flagrant its advantages will become, the firmer will become the\nposition of the new political regime, and the more determined will be\nthe further economic measures of the proletariat. Its measures it will\nbase not only on the national productive forces, but also on\ninternational technique, in the same way as it bases its revolutionary\npolicies not only on the experience of national class relations but also\non the entire historic experience of the international proletariat.\"\n\n_Political supremacy of the proletariat is incompatible with its\neconomic slavery._ Whatever may be the banner under which the\nproletariat will find itself in possession of power, it will be\ncompelled to enter the road of Socialism. It is the greatest Utopia to\nthink that the proletariat, brought to the top by the mechanics of a\nbourgeois revolution, would be able, even if it wanted, to limit its\nmission by creating a republican democratic environment for the social\nsupremacy of the bourgeoisie. Political dominance of the proletariat,\neven if it were temporary, would extremely weaken the resistance of\ncapital which is always in need of state aid, and would give momentous\nopportunities to the economic struggle of the proletariat.\n\nA proletarian regime will immediately take up the agrarian question with\nwhich the fate of vast millions of the Russian people is connected. In\nsolving this, as many another question, the proletariat will have in\nmind the main tendency of its economic policy: to get hold of a widest\npossible field for the organization of a Socialist economy. The forms\nand the tempo of this policy in the agrarian question will be\ndetermined both by the material resources that the proletariat will\nbe able to get hold of, and by the necessity to cooerdinate its\nactions so as not to drive possible allies into the ranks of the\ncounter-revolution.\n\nIt is evident that the _agrarian_ question, i.e., the question of rural\neconomy and its social relations, is not covered by the _land_ question\nwhich is the question of the forms of land ownership. It is perfectly\nclear, however, that the solution of the land question, even if it does\nnot determine the future of the agrarian evolution, would undoubtedly\ndetermine the future agrarian policy of the proletariat. In other words,\nthe use the proletariat will make of the land must be in accord with its\ngeneral attitude towards the course and requirements of the agrarian\nevolution. The land question will, therefore, be one of the first to\ninterest the labor government.\n\nOne of the solutions, made popular by the Socialist-Revolutionists, is\nthe _socialization of the land_. Freed from its European make-up, it\nmeans simply \"equal distribution\" of land. This program demands an\nexpropriation of all the land, whether it is in possession of landlords,\nof peasants on the basis of private property, or it is owned by village\ncommunities. It is evident that such expropriation, being one of the\nfirst measures of the new government and being started at a time when\ncapitalist exchange is still in full swing, would lead the peasants to\nbelieve that they are \"victims of the reform.\" One must not forget that\nthe peasants have for decades made redemption payments in order to turn\ntheir land into private property; many prosperous peasants have made\ngreat sacrifices to secure a large portion of land as their private\npossession. Should all this land become state property, the most bitter\nresistance would be offered by the members of the communities and by\nprivate owners. Starting out with a reform of this kind, the government\nwould make itself most unpopular among the peasants.\n\nAnd why should one confiscate the land of the communities and the land\nof small private owners? According to the Socialist-Revolutionary\nprogram, the only use to be made of the land by the state is to turn it\nover to all the peasants and agricultural laborers on the basis of equal\ndistribution. This would mean that the confiscated land of the\ncommunities and small owners would anyway return to individuals for\nprivate cultivation. Consequently, there would be _no economic gain_ in\nsuch a confiscation and redistribution. _Politically_, it would be a\ngreat blunder on the part of the labor government as it would make the\nmasses of peasants hostile to the proletarian leadership of the\nrevolution.\n\nClosely connected with this program is the question of hired\nagricultural labor. Equal distribution presupposes the prohibition of\nusing hired labor on farms. This, however, can be only a _consequence_\nof economic reforms, it cannot be decreed by a law. It is not enough to\nforbid an agricultural capitalist to hire laborers; one must first\nsecure agricultural laborers a fair existence; furthermore, this\nexistence must be profitable from the viewpoint of social economy. To\ndeclare equal distribution of land and to forbid hired labor, would mean\nto compel agricultural proletarians to settle on small lots, and to put\nthe state under obligation to provide them with implements for their\nsocially unprofitable production.\n\nIt is clear that the intervention of the proletariat in the organization\nof agriculture ought to express itself not in settling individual\nlaborers on individual lots, but in organizing _state or communal\nmanagement of large estates_. Later, when socialized production will\nhave established itself firmly, a further step will be made towards\nsocialization by forbidding hired labor. This will eliminate small\ncapitalistic enterprises in agriculture; it will, however, leave\nunmolested those private owners who work their land wholly or to a great\nextent by the labor of their families. To expropriate such owners can by\nno means be a desire of the Socialistic proletariat.\n\nThe proletariat can never indorse a program of \"equal distribution\"\nwhich on one hand demands a useless, purely formal expropriation of\nsmall owners, and on the other hand it demands a very real parceling of\nlarge estates into small lots. This would be a wasteful undertaking, a\npursuance of a reactionary and Utopian plan, and a political harm for\nthe revolutionary party.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHow far, however, can the Socialist policy of the working class advance\nin the economic environment of Russia? One thing we can say with perfect\nassurance: it will meet political obstacles long before it will be\nchecked by the technical backwardness of the country. _Without direct\npolitical aid from the European proletariat the working class of Russia\nwill not be able to retain its power and to turn its temporary supremacy\ninto a permanent Socialist dictatorship._ We cannot doubt this for a\nmoment. On the other hand, there is no doubt that a _Socialist\nrevolution in the West would allow us to turn the temporary supremacy of\nthe working class directly into a Socialist dictatorship_.\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nEUROPE AND THE REVOLUTION\n\nIn June, 1905, we wrote:\n\n\"More than half a century passed since 1848. Half a century of\nunprecedented victories of capitalism all over the world. Half a century\nof \"organic\" mutual adaptation of the forces of the bourgeois and the\nforces of feudal reaction. Half a century in which the bourgeoisie has\nmanifested its mad appetite for power and its readiness to fight for it\nmadly!\n\n\"As a self-taught mechanic, in his search for perpetual motion, meets\never new obstacles and piles mechanism over mechanism to overcome them,\nso the bourgeoisie has changed and reconstructed the apparatus of its\nsupremacy avoiding 'supra-legal' conflicts with hostile powers. And as\nthe self-taught mechanic finally clashes against the ultimate\ninsurmountable obstacle,--the law of conservation of energy,--so the\nbourgeoisie had to clash against the ultimate implacable barrier,--class\nantagonism, fraught with inevitable conflict.\n\n\"Capitalism, forcing its economic system and social relations on each\nand every country, has turned the entire world into one economic and\npolitical organism. As the effect of the modern credit system, with the\ninvisible bonds it draws between thousands of enterprises, with the\namazing mobility it lends to capital, has been to eliminate local and\npartial crises, but to give unusual momentum to general economic\nconvulsions, so the entire economic and political work of capitalism,\nwith its world commerce, with its system of monstrous foreign debts,\nwith its political groupings of states, which have drawn all reactionary\nforces into one world-wide co-partnership, has prevented local political\ncrises, but it has prepared a basis for a social crisis of unheard of\nmagnitude. Driving unhealthy processes inside, evading difficulties,\nstaving off the deep problems of national and international politics,\nglossing over all contradictions, the bourgeoisie has postponed the\nclimax, yet it has prepared a radical world-wide liquidation of its\npower. It has clung to all reactionary forces no matter what their\norigin. It has made the Sultan not the last of its friends. It has not\ntied itself on the Chinese ruler only because he had no power: it was\nmore profitable to rob his possessions than to keep him in the office\nof a world gendarme and to pay him from the treasury of the bourgeoisie.\nThus the bourgeoisie made the stability of its political system wholly\ndependent upon the stability of the pre-capitalistic pillars of\nreaction.\n\n\"This gives events an international character and opens a magnificent\nperspective; political emancipation, headed by the working class of\nRussia, will elevate its leader to a height unparalleled in history, it\nwill give Russian proletariat colossal power and make it the initiator\nof world-wide liquidation of capitalism, to which the objective\nprerequisites have been created by history.\"\n\nIt is futile to guess how the Russian revolution will find its way to\nold capitalistic Europe. This way may be a total surprise. To illustrate\nour thought rather than to predict events, we shall mention Poland as\nthe possible connecting link between the revolutionary East and the\nrevolutionary West.\n\n [The author pictures the consequences of a revolution in Poland. A\n revolution in Poland would necessarily follow the victory of the\n revolution in Russia. This, however, would throw revolutionary\n sparks into the Polish provinces of Germany and Austria. A\n revolution in Posen and Galicia would move the Hohenzollerns and\n Hapsburgs to invade Poland. This would be a sign for the proletariat\n of Germany to get into a sharp conflict with their governments. A\n revolution becomes inevitable.]\n\nA revolutionary Poland, however, is not the only possible starting point\nfor a European revolution. The system of armed peace which became\npredominant in Europe after the Franco-Prussian war, was based on a\nsystem of European equilibrium. This equilibrium took for granted not\nonly the integrity of Turkey, the dismemberment of Poland, the\npreservation of Austria, that ethnographic harlequin's robe, but also\nthe existence of Russian despotism in the role of a gendarme of the\nEuropean reaction, armed to his teeth. The Russo-Japanese war has given\na mortal blow to this artificial system in which absolutism was the\ndominant figure. For an indefinite period Russia is out of the race as a\nfirst-class power. The equilibrium has been destroyed. On the other\nhand, the successes of Japan have incensed the conquest instincts of the\ncapitalistic bourgeoisie, especially the Stock Exchange, which plays a\ncolossal role in modern politics. _The possibilities of a war on\nEuropean territory have grown enormously._ Conflicts are ripening here\nand there; so far they have been settled in a diplomatic way, but\nnothing can guarantee the near future. _A European war, however, means a\nEuropean revolution._\n\nEven without the pressure of such events as war or bankruptcy, a\nrevolution may take place in the near future in one of the European\ncountries as a result of acute class struggles. We shall not make\ncomputations as to which country would be first to take the path of\nrevolution; it is obvious, however, that class antagonisms have for the\nlast years reached a high degree of intensity in all the European\ncountries.\n\nThe influence of the Russian revolution on the proletariat of Europe is\nimmense. Not only does it destroy the Petersburg absolutism, that main\npower of European reaction; it also imbues the minds and the souls of\nthe European proletariat with revolutionary daring.\n\nIt is the purpose of every Socialist party to revolutionize the minds of\nthe working class in the same way as development of capitalism has\nrevolutionized social relations. The work of propaganda and organization\namong the proletariat, however, has its own intrinsic inertia. The\nSocialist parties of Europe--in the first place the most powerful of\nthem, the German Socialist party--have developed a conservatism of their\nown, which grows in proportion as Socialism embraces ever larger masses\nand organization and discipline increase. Social-Democracy, personifying\nthe political experience of the proletariat, can, therefore, at a\ncertain juncture, become an immediate obstacle on the way of an open\nproletarian conflict with the bourgeois reaction. In other words, the\npropaganda-conservatism of a proletarian party can, at a certain moment,\nimpede the direct struggle of the proletariat for power. The colossal\ninfluence of the Russian revolution manifests itself in killing party\nroutine, in destroying Socialist conservatism, in making a clean contest\nof proletarian forces against capitalist reaction a question of the day.\nThe struggle for universal suffrage in Austria, Saxony and Prussia has\nbecome more determined under the direct influence of the October strike\nin Russia. An Eastern revolution imbues the Western proletariat with\nrevolutionary idealism and stimulates its desire to speak \"Russian\" to\nits foes.\n\nThe Russian proletariat in power, even if this were only the result of a\npassing combination of forces in the Russian bourgeois revolution,\nwould meet organized opposition on the part of the world's reaction, and\nreadiness for organized support on the part of the world's proletariat.\nLeft to its own resources, the Russian working class must necessarily be\ncrushed the moment it loses the aid of the peasants. Nothing remains for\nit but to link the fate of its political supremacy and the fate of the\nRussian revolution with the fate of a Socialist revolution in Europe.\nAll that momentous authority and political power which is given to the\nproletariat by a combination of forces in the Russian bourgeois\nrevolution, it will thrust on the scale of class struggle in the entire\ncapitalistic world. Equipped with governmental power, having a\ncounter-revolution behind his back, having the European reaction in\nfront of him, the Russian workingman will issue to all his brothers the\nworld over his old battle-cry which will now become the call for the\nlast attack: _Proletarians of all the world, unite!_\n\n\nEXPLANATORY NOTES\n\n The first _Council of Workmen's Deputies_ was formed in Petersburg,\n on October 13th, 1905, in the course of the great general October\n strike that compelled Nicholas Romanoff to promise a Constitution.\n It represented individual factories, labor unions, and included\n also delegates from the Socialist parties. It looked upon itself as\n the center of the revolution and a nucleus of a revolutionary labor\n government. Similar Councils sprung up in many other industrial\n centers. It was arrested on December 3d, having existed for fifty\n days. Its members were tried and sent to Siberia.\n\n _Intelligentzia_ is a term applied in Russia to an indefinite,\n heterogeneous group of \"intellectuals,\" who are not actively and\n directly involved in the industrial machinery of capitalism, and at\n the same time are not members of the working class. It is customary\n to count among the _Intelligentzia_ students, teachers, writers,\n lawyers, physicians, college professors, etc. However, the term\n _Intelligentzia_ implies also a certain degree of idealism and\n radical aspirations.\n\n _Witte_ was the first prime-minister under the quasi-constitution\n granted on October 17th, 1905. _Stolypin_ was appointed prime\n minister after the dissolution of the first Duma in July, 1906.\n\n Under the _minimum program_ the Social-Democrats understand all\n that range of reforms which can be obtained under the existing\n capitalist system of \"private ownership of the means of\n production,\" such as an eight hour workday, social insurance,\n universal suffrage, a republican order. The _maximum program_\n demands the abolition of private property and public management of\n industries, i.e., Socialism.\n\n \"_Some prejudices among the masses_\" referred to in this essay is\n the alleged love of the primitive masses for their Tzar. This was\n an argument usually put forth by the liberals against republican\n aspirations.\n\n _Lower-Middle-Class_ is the only term half-way covering the Russian\n \"Mieshchanstvo\" used by Trotzky. \"Mieshchanstvo\" has a\n socio-economic meaning, and a flavor of moral disapproval. Socially\n and economically it means those numerous inhabitants of modern\n cities who are engaged in independent economic pursuits, as\n artisans (masters), shopkeepers, small manufacturers, petty\n merchants, etc., who have not capital enough to rank with the\n bourgeoisie. Morally \"Mieshchanstvo\" presupposes a limited horizon,\n lack of definite revolutionary or political ideas, and lack of\n political courage.\n\n The _Village community_ is a remnant of old times in Russia. Up to\n 1906 the members of the village were not allowed to divide the land\n of the community among the individual peasants on the basis of\n private property. The land legally belonged to the entire community\n which allotted it to its members. Since 1906 the compulsory\n character of communal land-ownership was abandoned, yet in very\n great areas of Russia it still remained the prevailing system of\n land-ownership.\n\n Besides having a share in the community-land, the individual\n peasant could acquire a piece of land out of his private means (the\n seller being usually the landlord) and thus become a _small private\n owner_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SOVIET AND THE REVOLUTION\n\n(Fifty Days)\n\n About two years after the arrest of the Soviet of 1905, a number of\n former leaders of that organization, among them Chrustalyov Nossar,\n the first chairman, and Trotzky, the second chairman, met abroad\n after having escaped from Siberian exile. They decided to sum up\n their Soviet experiences in a book which they called _The History\n of the Council of Workingmen's Deputies_. The book appeared in 1908\n in Petersburg, and was immediately suppressed. One of the essays of\n this book is here reprinted.\n\n In his estimation of the role of the Soviet Trotzky undoubtedly\n exaggerates. Only by a flight of imagination can one see in the\n activities of the Soviet regarding the postal, telegraph and\n railroad strikers the beginnings of a Soviet control over\n post-office, telegraph and railroads. It is also a serious question\n whether the Soviet was really a leading body, or whether it was led\n by the current of revolutionary events which it was unable to\n control. What makes this essay interesting and significant is\n Trotzky's assertion that \"the first new wave of the revolution will\n lead to the creation of Soviets all over the country.\" This has\n actually happened. His predictions of the formation of an\n all-Russian Soviet, and of the program the Soviets would follow,\n have also been realized in the course of the present revolution.\n\n\n1\n\nThe history of the Soviet is a history of fifty days. The Soviet was\nconstituted on October 13th; its session was interrupted by a military\ndetachment of the government on December 3rd. Between those two dates\nthe Soviet lived and struggled.\n\nWhat was the substance of this institution? What enabled it in this\nshort period to take an honorable place in the history of the Russian\nproletariat, in the history of the Russian Revolution?\n\nThe Soviet organized the masses, conducted political strikes, led\npolitical demonstrations, tried to arm the workingmen. But other\nrevolutionary organizations did the same things. The substance of the\nSoviet was its effort to become _an organ of public authority_. The\nproletariat on one hand, the reactionary press on the other, have called\nthe Soviet \"a labor government\"; this only reflects the fact that the\nSoviet was in reality _an embryo of a revolutionary government_. In so\nfar as the Soviet was in actual possession of authoritative power, it\nmade use of it; in so far as the power was in the hands of the military\nand bureaucratic monarchy, the Soviet fought to obtain it. Prior to the\nSoviet, there had been revolutionary organizations among the industrial\nworkingmen, mostly of a Social-Democratic nature. But those were\norganizations _among_ the proletariat; their immediate aim was to\n_influence the masses_. The Soviet is an organization _of_ the\nproletariat; its aim is to fight for _revolutionary power_.\n\nAt the same time, the Soviet was _an organized expression of the will of\nthe proletariat as a class_. In its fight for power the Soviet applied\nsuch methods as were naturally determined by the character of the\nproletariat as a class: its part in production; its numerical strength;\nits social homogeneity. In its fight for power the Soviet has combined\nthe direction of all the social activities of the working class,\nincluding decisions as to conflicts between individual representatives\nof capital and labor. This combination was by no means an artificial\ntactical attempt: it was a natural consequence of the situation of a\nclass which, consciously developing and broadening its fight for its\nimmediate interests, had been compelled by the logic of events to assume\na leading position in the revolutionary struggle for power.\n\nThe main weapon of the Soviet was a political strike of the masses. The\npower of the strike lies in disorganizing the power of the government.\nThe greater the \"anarchy\" created by a strike, the nearer its victory.\nThis is true only where \"anarchy\" is not being created by anarchic\nactions. The class that puts into motion, day in and day out, the\nindustrial apparatus and the governmental apparatus; the class that is\nable, by a sudden stoppage of work, to paralyze both industry and\ngovernment, must be organized enough not to fall the first victim of the\nvery \"anarchy\" it has created. The more effective the disorganization of\ngovernment caused by a strike, the more the strike organization is\ncompelled to assume governmental functions.\n\nThe Council of Workmen's Delegates introduces a free press. It organizes\nstreet patrols to secure the safety of the citizens. It takes over, to a\ngreater or less extent, the post office, the telegraph, and the\nrailroads. It makes an effort to introduce the eight hour workday.\nParalyzing the autocratic government by a strike, it brings its own\ndemocratic order into the life of the working city population.\n\n\n2\n\nAfter January 9th the revolution had shown its power over the minds of\nthe working masses. On June 14th, through the revolt of the Potyomkin\nTavritchesky it had shown that it was able to become a material force.\nIn the October strike it had shown that it could disorganize the enemy,\nparalyze his will and utterly humiliate him. By organizing Councils of\nWorkmen's Deputies all over the country, _it showed that it was able to\ncreate authoritative power_. Revolutionary authority can be based only\non active revolutionary force. Whatever our view on the further\ndevelopment of the Russian revolution, it is a fact that so far no\nsocial class besides the proletariat has manifested readiness to uphold\na revolutionary authoritative power. The first act of the revolution was\nan encounter in the streets of the _proletariat_ with the monarchy; the\nfirst serious victory of the revolution was achieved through the\n_class-weapon of the proletariat_, the political strike; the first\nnucleus of a revolutionary government was _a proletarian\nrepresentation_. The Soviet is the first democratic power in modern\nRussian history. The Soviet is the organized power of the masses\nthemselves over their component parts. This is a true, unadulterated\ndemocracy, without a two-chamber system, without a professional\nbureaucracy, with the right of the voters to recall their deputy any\nmoment and to substitute another for him. Through its members, through\ndeputies elected by the workingmen, the Soviet directs all the social\nactivities of the proletariat as a whole and of its various parts; it\noutlines the steps to be taken by the proletariat, it gives them a\nslogan and a banner. This art of directing the activities of the masses\non the basis of organized self-government, is here applied for the first\ntime on Russian soil. Absolutism ruled the masses, but it did not direct\nthem. It put mechanical barriers against the living creative forces of\nthe masses, and within those barriers it kept the restless elements of\nthe nation in an iron bond of oppression. The only mass absolutism ever\ndirected was the army. But that was not directing, it was merely\ncommanding. In recent years, even the directing of this atomized and\nhypnotized military mass has been slipping out of the hands of\nabsolutism. Liberalism never had power enough to command the masses, or\ninitiative enough to direct them. Its attitude towards mass-movements,\neven if they helped liberalism directly, was the same as towards\nawe-inspiring natural phenomena--earthquakes or volcanic eruptions. The\nproletariat appeared on the battlefield of the revolution as a\nself-reliant aggregate, totally independent from bourgeois liberalism.\n\nThe Soviet was a _class-organization_, this was the source of its\nfighting power. It was crushed in the first period of its existence not\nby lack of confidence on the part of the masses in the cities, but by\nthe limitations of a purely urban revolution, by the relatively passive\nattitude of the village, by the backwardness of the peasant element of\nthe army. The Soviet's position among the city population was as strong\nas could be.\n\nThe Soviet was not an official representative of the entire half million\nof the working population in the capital; its organization embraced\nabout two hundred thousand, chiefly industrial workers; and though its\ndirect and indirect political influence was of a much wider range, there\nwere thousands and thousands of proletarians (in the building trade,\namong domestic servants, day laborers, drivers) who were hardly, if at\nall, influenced by the Soviet. There is no doubt, however, that the\nSoviet represented the interests of _all_ these proletarian masses.\nThere were but few adherents of the Black Hundred in the factories, and\ntheir number dwindled hour by hour. The proletarian masses of Petersburg\nwere solidly behind the Soviet. Among the numerous intellectuals of\nPetersburg the Soviet had more friends than enemies. Thousands of\nstudents recognized the political leadership of the Soviet and ardently\nsupported it in its decisions. Professional Petersburg was entirely on\nthe side of the Soviet. The support by the Soviet of the postal and\ntelegraph strike won it the sympathy of the lower governmental\nofficials. All the oppressed, all the unfortunate, all honest elements\nof the city, all those who were striving towards a better life, were\ninstinctively or consciously on the side of the Soviet. The Soviet was\nactually or potentially a representative of an overwhelming majority of\nthe population. Its enemies in the capital would not have been dangerous\nhad they not been protected by absolutism, which based its power on the\nmost backward elements of an army recruited from peasants. The weakness\nof the Soviet was not its own weakness, it was the weakness of a purely\nurban revolution.\n\nThe fifty day period was the period of the greatest power of the\nrevolution. _The Soviet was its organ in the fight for public\nauthority._ The class character of the Soviet was determined by the\nclass differentiation of the city population and by the political\nantagonism between the proletariat and the capitalistic bourgeoisie.\nThis antagonism manifested itself even in the historically limited field\nof a struggle against absolutism. After the October strike, the\ncapitalistic bourgeoisie consciously blocked the progress of the\nrevolution, the petty middle class turned out to be a nonentity,\nincapable of playing an independent role. The real leader of the urban\nrevolution was the proletariat. Its class-organization was the organ of\nthe revolution in its struggle for power.\n\n\n3\n\nThe struggle for power, for public authority--this is the central aim of\nthe revolution. The fifty days of the Soviet's life and its bloody\nfinale have shown that urban Russia is too narrow a basis for such a\nstruggle, and that even within the limits of the urban revolution, a\nlocal organization cannot be the central leading body. For a national\ntask the proletariat required an organization on a national scale. The\nPetersburg Soviet was a local organization, yet the need of a central\norganization was so great that it had to assume leadership on a national\nscale. It did what it could, still it remained primarily the\n_Petersburg_ Council of Workmen's Deputies. The urgency of an\nall-Russian labor congress which undoubtedly would have had authority to\nform a central leading organ, was emphasized even at the time of the\nfirst Soviet. The December collapse made its realization impossible. The\nidea remained, an inheritance of the Fifty Days.\n\nThe idea of a Soviet has become ingrained in the consciousness of the\nworkingmen as the first prerequisite to revolutionary action of the\nmasses. Experience has shown that a Soviet is not possible or desirable\nunder all circumstances. The objective meaning of the Soviet\norganization is to create conditions for disorganizing the government,\nfor \"anarchy,\" in other words for a revolutionary conflict. The present\nlull in the revolutionary movement, the mad triumph of reaction, make\nthe existence of an open, elective, authoritative organization of the\nmasses impossible. There is no doubt, however, that _the first new wave\nof the revolution will lead to the creation of Soviets all over the\ncountry_. An All-Russian Soviet, organized by an All-Russian Labor\nCongress, will assume leadership of the local elective organizations of\nthe proletariat. Names, of course, are of no importance; so are details\nof organization; the main thing is: a centralized democratic leadership\nin the struggle of the proletariat for a popular government. History\ndoes not repeat itself, and the new Soviet will not have again to go\nthrough the experience of the Fifty Days. These, however, will furnish\nit a complete program of action.\n\nThis program is perfectly clear.\n\nTo establish revolutionary cooeperation with the army, the peasantry, and\nthe plebeian lower strata of the urban bourgeoisie. To abolish\nabsolutism. To destroy the material organization of absolutism by\nreconstructing and partly dismissing the army. To break up the entire\nbureaucratic apparatus. To introduce an eight hour workday. To arm the\npopulation, starting with the proletariat. To turn the Soviets into\norgans of revolutionary self-government in the cities. To create\nCouncils of Peasants' Delegates (Peasants' Committees) as local organs\nof the agrarian revolution. To organize elections to the Constituent\nAssembly and to conduct a preelection campaign for a definite program on\nthe part of the representatives of the people.\n\nIt is easier to formulate such a program than to carry it through. If,\nhowever, the revolution will ever win, the proletariat cannot choose\nanother. The proletariat will unfold revolutionary accomplishment such\nas the world has never seen. The history of Fifty Days will be only a\npoor page in the great book of the proletariat's struggle and ultimate\ntriumph.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO _MY ROUND TRIP_\n\n Trotzky was never personal. The emotional side of life seldom\n appears in his writings. His is the realm of social activities,\n social and political struggles. His writings breathe logic, not\n sentiment, facts, not poetry. The following preface to his _Round\n Trip_ is, perhaps, the only exception. It speaks of the man Trotzky\n and his beliefs. Note his confession of faith: \"History is a\n tremendous mechanism serving our ideals.\" ...\n\n\nAt the Stockholm Convention of the Social-Democratic Party, some curious\nstatistical data was circulated, showing the conditions under which the\nparty of the proletariat was working:\n\nThe Convention as a whole, in the person of its 140 members, had spent\nin prison one hundred and thirty-eight years and three and a half\nmonths.\n\nThe Convention had been in exile one hundred and forty-eight years and\nsix and a half months.\n\nEscaped from prison: Once, eighteen members of the Convention; twice,\nfour members.\n\nEscaped from exile: Once, twenty-three; twice, five; three times, one\nmember.\n\nThe length of time the Convention as a whole had been active in\nSocial-Democratic work, was 942 years. It follows that the time spent in\nprison and exile is about one-third of the time a Social-Democrat is\nactive. But these figures are too optimistic. \"The Convention has been\nactive in Social-Democratic work for 942 years\"--this means merely that\nthe activities of those persons had been spread over so many years.\nTheir actual period of work must have been much shorter. Possibly all\nthese persons had worked, actually and directly, only one-sixth or\none-tenth of the above time. Such are conditions of underground\nactivity. On the other hand, the time spent in prison and exile is real\ntime: the Convention had spent over fifty thousand days and nights\nbehind iron bars, and more than that in barbarous corners of the\ncountry.\n\nPerhaps I may give, in addition to these figures, some facts about\nmyself. The author of these lines was arrested for the first time in\nJanuary, 1898, after working for ten months in the workmen's circles of\nNikolayev. He spent two and a half years in prison, and escaped from\nSiberia after living there two years of his four years' exile. He was\narrested the second time on December 3rd, 1905, as a member of the\nPetersburg Council of Workmen's Deputies. The Council had existed for\nfifty days. The arrested members of the Soviet each spent 400 days in\nprison, then they were sent to Obdorsk \"forever.\" ... Each Russian\nSocial-Democrat who has worked in his Party for ten years could give\nsimilar statistics about himself.\n\nThe political helter-skelter which exists in Russia since October 17th\nand which the Gotha Almanach has characterized with unconscious humor as\n\"_A Constitutional Monarchy under an absolute Tzar_,\" has changed\nnothing in our situation. This political order cannot reconcile itself\nwith us, not even temporarily, as it is organically incapable of\nadmitting any free activity of the masses. The simpletons and hypocrites\nwho urge us to \"keep within legal limits\" remind one of Marie Antoinette\nwho recommended the starving peasants to eat cake! One would think we\nsuffer from an organic aversion for cake, a kind of incurable disease!\nOne would think our lungs infected with an irresistible desire to\nbreathe the atmosphere of the solitary dungeons in the Fortress of Peter\nand Paul! One would think we have no other use for those endless hours\npulled out of our lives by the jailers.\n\nWe love our underground just as little as a drowning person loves the\nbottom of the sea. Yet, we have as little choice, as, let us say\ndirectly, the absolutist order. Being fully aware of this we can afford\nto be optimists even at a time when the underground tightens its grip\naround our necks with unrelenting grimness. It will not choke us, we\nknow it! We shall survive! When the bones of all the great deeds which\nare being performed now by the princes of the earth, their servants and\nthe servants of their servants will have turned to dust, when nobody\nwill know the graves of many present parties with all their\nexploits--the Cause we are serving will rule the world, and our Party,\nnow choking underground, will dissolve itself into humanity, for the\nfirst time its own master.\n\nHistory is a tremendous mechanism serving our ideals. Its work is slow,\nbarbarously slow, implacably cruel, yet the work goes on. We believe in\nit. Only at moments, when this voracious monster drinks the living blood\nof our hearts to serve it as food, we wish to shout with all our might:\n\n_What thou dost, do quickly!_\n\nParis, April 8/21, 1907.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LESSONS OF THE GREAT YEAR\n\n This essay was published in a New York Russian newspaper on January\n 20th, 1917, less than two months before the Second Russian\n Revolution. Trotzky then lived in New York. The essay shows how his\n contempt, even hatred, for the liberal parties in Russia had grown\n since 1905-6.\n\n\n(January 9th, 1905--January 9th, 1917)\n\nRevolutionary anniversaries are not only days for reminiscence, they are\ndays for summing up revolutionary experiences, especially for us\nRussians. Our history has not been rich. Our so-called \"national\noriginality\" consisted in being poor, ignorant, uncouth. It was the\nrevolution of 1905 that first opened before us the great highway of\npolitical progress. On January 9th the workingman of Petersburg knocked\nat the gate of the Winter Palace. On January 9th the entire Russian\npeople knocked at the gate of history.\n\nThe crowned janitor did not respond to the knock. Nine months later,\nhowever, on October 17th, he was compelled to open the heavy gate of\nabsolutism. Notwithstanding all the efforts of bureaucracy, a little\nslit stayed open--forever.\n\nThe revolution was defeated. The same old forces and almost the same\nfigures now rule Russia that ruled her twelve years ago. Yet the\nrevolution has changed Russia beyond recognition. The kingdom of\nstagnation, servitude, vodka and humbleness has become a kingdom of\nfermentation, criticism, fight. Where once there was a shapeless\ndough--the impersonal, formless people, \"Holy Russia,\"--now social\nclasses consciously oppose each other, political parties have sprung\ninto existence, each with its program and methods of struggle.\n\nJanuary 9th opens _a new Russian history_. It is a line marked by the\nblood of the people. There is no way back from this line to Asiatic\nRussia, to the cursed practices of former generations. There is no way\nback. There will never be.\n\nNot the liberal bourgeoisie, not the democratic groups of the lower\nbourgeoisie, not the radical intellectuals, not the millions of Russian\npeasants, but the _Russian proletariat_ has by its struggle started the\nnew era in Russian history. This is basic. On the foundation of this\nfact we, Social-Democrats, have built our conceptions and our tactics.\n\nOn January 9th it was the priest Gapon who happened to be at the head of\nthe Petersburg workers,--a fantastic figure, a combination of\nadventurer, hysterical enthusiast and impostor. His priest's robe was\nthe last link that then connected the workingmen with the past, with\n\"Holy Russia.\" Nine months later, in the course of the October strike,\nthe greatest political strike history has ever seen, there was at the\nhead of the Petersburg workingmen their own elective self-governing\norganization--the Council of Workmen's Deputies. It contained many a\nworkingman who had been on Gapon's staff,--nine months of revolution had\nmade those men grow, as they made grow the entire working class which\nthe Soviet represented.\n\nIn the first period of the revolution, the activities of the proletariat\nwere met with sympathy, even with support from liberal society. The\nMilukovs hoped the proletariat would punch absolutism and make it more\ninclined to compromise with the bourgeoisie. Yet absolutism, for\ncenturies the only ruler of the people, was in no haste to share its\npower with the liberal parties. In October, 1905, the bourgeoisie\nlearned that it could not obtain power before the back-bone of Tzarism\nwas broken. This blessed thing could, evidently, be accomplished only by\na victorious revolution. But the revolution put the working class in the\nforeground, it united it and solidified it not only in its struggle\nagainst Tzarism, but also in its struggle against capital. The result\nwas that each new revolutionary step of the proletariat in October,\nNovember and December, the time of the Soviet, moved the liberals more\nand more in the direction of the monarchy. The hopes for revolutionary\ncooeperation between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat turned out a\nhopeless Utopia. Those who had not seen it then and had not understood\nit later, those who still dream of a \"national\" uprising against\nTzarism, do not understand the revolution. For them class struggle is a\nsealed book.\n\nAt the end of 1905 the question became acute. The monarchy had learned\nby experience that the bourgeoisie would not support the proletariat in\na decisive battle. The monarchy then decided to move against the\nproletariat with all its forces. The bloody days of December followed.\nThe Council of Workmen's Deputies was arrested by the Ismailovski\nregiment which remained loyal to Tzarism. The answer of the proletariat\nwas momentous: the strike in Petersburg, the insurrection in Moscow, the\nstorm of revolutionary movements in all industrial centers, the\ninsurrection on the Caucasus and in the Lettish provinces.\n\nThe revolutionary movement was crushed. Many a poor \"Socialist\" readily\nconcluded from our December defeats that a revolution in Russia was\nimpossible without the support of the bourgeoisie. If this be true, it\nwould only mean that a revolution in Russia is impossible.\n\nOur _upper industrial bourgeoisie_, the only class possessing actual\npower, is separated from the proletariat by an insurmountable barrier of\nclass hatred, and it needs the monarchy as a pillar of order. The\nGutchkovs, Krestovnikovs and Ryabushinskys cannot fail to see in the\nproletariat their mortal foe.\n\nOur _middle and lower industrial and commercial bourgeoisie_ occupies a\nvery insignificant place in the economic life of the country, and is all\nentangled in the net of capital. The Milukovs, the leaders of the lower\nmiddle class, are successful only in so far as they represent the\ninterests of the upper bourgeoisie. This is why the Cadet leader called\nthe revolutionary banner a \"red rag\"; this is why he declared, after the\nbeginning of the war, that if a revolution were necessary to secure\nvictory over Germany, he would prefer no victory at all.\n\nOur _peasantry_ occupies a tremendous place in Russian life. In 1905 it\nwas shaken to its deepest foundations. The peasants were driving out\ntheir masters, setting estates on fire, seizing the land from the\nlandlords. Yes, the curse of the peasantry is that it is scattered,\ndisjointed, backward. Moreover, the interests of the various peasant\ngroups do not coincide. The peasants arose and fought adroitly against\ntheir local slave-holders, yet they stopped in reverence before the\nall-Russian slave-holder. The sons of the peasants in the army did not\nunderstand that the workingmen were shedding their blood not only for\ntheir own sake, but also for the sake of the peasants. The army was an\nobedient tool in the hands of Tzarism. It crushed the labor revolution\nin December, 1905.\n\nWhoever thinks about the experiences of 1905, whoever draws a line from\nthat year to the present time, must see how utterly lifeless and pitiful\nare the hopes of our Social-Patriots for revolutionary cooeperation\nbetween the proletariat and the liberal bourgeoisie.\n\nDuring the last twelve years big capital has made great conquests in\nRussia. The middle and lower bourgeoisie has become still more dependent\nupon the banks and trusts. The working class, which had grown in numbers\nsince 1905, is now separated from the bourgeoisie by a deeper abyss than\nbefore. If a \"national\" revolution was a failure twelve years ago,\nthere is still less hope for it at present.\n\nIt is true in the last years that the cultural and political level of\nthe peasantry has become higher. However, there is less hope now for a\nrevolutionary uprising of the peasantry as a whole than there was twelve\nyears ago. The only ally of the urban proletariat may be the proletarian\nand half-proletarian strata of the village.\n\nBut, a skeptic may ask, is there then any hope for a victorious\nrevolution in Russia under these circumstances?\n\nOne thing is clear--if a revolution comes, it will not be a result of\ncooeperation between capital and labor. The experiences of 1905 show that\nthis is a miserable Utopia. To acquaint himself with those experiences,\nto study them is the duty of every thinking workingman who is anxious to\navoid tragic mistakes. It is in this sense that we have said that\nrevolutionary anniversaries are not only days for reminiscences, but\nalso days for summing up revolutionary experiences.\n\n\n _Gutchkov_, _Ryabushinsky_ and _Krestovnikov_ are representatives\n of big capital in Russia. Gutchkov is the leader of the moderately\n liberal party of Octobrists. He was War Minister in the first\n Cabinet after the overthrow of the Romanoffs.\n\n\n\n\nON THE EVE OF A REVOLUTION\n\n This essay was written on March 13th, 1917, when the first news of\n unrest in Petrograd had reached New York.\n\n\nThe streets of Petrograd again speak the language of 1905. As in the\ntime of the Russo-Japanese war, the masses demand bread, peace, and\nfreedom. As in 1905, street cars are not running and newspapers do not\nappear. The workingmen let the steam out of the boilers, they quit their\nbenches and walk out into the streets. The government mobilizes its\nCossacks. And as was in 1905, only those two powers are facing each\nother in the streets--the revolutionary workingmen and the army of the\nTzar.\n\nThe movement was provoked by lack of bread. This, of course, is not an\naccidental cause. In all the belligerent countries the lack of bread is\nthe most immediate, the most acute reason for dissatisfaction and\nindignation among the masses. All the insanity of the war is revealed to\nthem from this angle: it is impossible to produce necessities of life\nbecause one has to produce instruments of death.\n\nHowever, the attempts of the Anglo-Russian semi-official news agencies\nto explain the movement by a temporary shortage in food, or to snow\nstorms that have delayed transportation, are one of the most ludicrous\napplications of the policy of the ostrich. The workingmen would not stop\nthe factories, the street cars, the print shops and walk into the\nstreets to meet Tzarism face to face on account of snow storms which\ntemporarily hamper the arrival of foodstuffs.\n\nPeople have a short memory. Many of our own ranks have forgotten that\nthe war found Russia in a state of potent revolutionary ferment. After\nthe heavy stupor of 1908-1911, the proletariat gradually healed its\nwounds in the following years of industrial prosperity; the slaughter of\nstrikers on the Lena River in April, 1912, awakened the revolutionary\nenergy of the proletarian masses. A series of strikes followed. In the\nyear preceding the world war, the wave of economic and political strikes\nresembled that of 1905. When Poincare, the President of the French\nRepublic, came to Petersburg in the summer of 1904 (evidently to talk\nover with the Tzar how to free the small and weak nations) the Russian\nproletariat was in a stage of extraordinary revolutionary tension, and\nthe President of the French Republic could see with his own eyes in the\ncapital of his friend, the Tzar, how the first barricades of the Second\nRussian Revolution were being constructed.\n\nThe war checked the rising revolutionary tide. We have witnessed a\nrepetition of what happened ten years before, in the Russo-Japanese war.\nAfter the stormy strikes of 1903, there had followed a year of almost\nunbroken political silence--1904--the first year of the war. It took the\nworkingmen of Petersburg twelve months to orientate themselves in the\nwar and to walk out into the streets with their demands and protests.\nJanuary 9th, 1905, was, so to speak, the official beginning of our First\nRevolution.\n\nThe present war is vaster than was the Russo-Japanese war. Millions of\nsoldiers have been mobilized by the government for the \"defense of the\nFatherland.\" The ranks of the proletariat have thus been disorganized.\nOn the other hand, the more advanced elements of the proletariat had to\nface and weigh in their minds a number of questions of unheard of\nmagnitude. What is the cause of the war? Shall the proletariat agree\nwith the conception of \"the defense of the Fatherland\"? What ought to\nbe the tactics of the working-class in war time?\n\nIn the meantime, the Tzarism and its allies, the upper groups of the\nnobility and the bourgeoisie, had during the war completely exposed\ntheir true nature,--the nature of criminal plunderers, blinded by\nlimitless greed and paralyzed by want of talent. The appetites for\nconquest of the governing clique grew in proportion as the people began\nto realize its complete inability to cope with the most elementary\nproblems of warfare, of industry and supplies in war time.\nSimultaneously, the misery of the people grew, deepened, became more and\nmore acute,--a natural result of the war multiplied by the criminal\nanarchy of the Rasputin Tzarism.\n\nIn the depths of the great masses, among people who may have never been\nreached by a word of propaganda, a profound bitterness accumulated under\nthe stress of events. Meantime the foremost ranks of the proletariat\nwere finishing digesting the new events. The Socialist proletariat of\nRussia came to after the shock of the nationalist fall of the most\ninfluential part of the International, and decided that new times call\nus not to let up, but to increase our revolutionary struggle.\n\nThe present events in Petrograd and Moscow are a result of this internal\npreparatory work.\n\nA disorganized, compromised, disjointed government on top. An utterly\ndemoralized army. Dissatisfaction, uncertainty and fear among the\npropertied classes. At the bottom, among the masses, a deep bitterness.\nA proletariat numerically stronger than ever, hardened in the fire of\nevents. All this warrants the statement that we are witnessing the\nbeginning of the Second Russian Revolution. Let us hope that many of us\nwill be its participants.\n\n\n\n\nTWO FACES\n\n\n(Internal Forces of the Russian Revolution)\n\nLet us examine more closely what is going on.\n\nNicholas has been dethroned, and according to some information, is under\narrest. The most conspicuous Black Hundred leaders have been arrested.\nSome of the most hated have been killed. A new Ministry has been formed\nconsisting of Octobrists, Liberals and the Radical Kerensky. A general\namnesty has been proclaimed.\n\nAll these are facts, big facts. These are the facts that strike the\nouter world most. Changes in the higher government give the bourgeoisie\nof Europe and America an occasion to say that the revolution has won and\nis now completed.\n\nThe Tzar and his Black Hundred fought for their power, for this alone.\nThe war, the imperialistic plans of the Russian bourgeoisie, the\ninterests of the Allies, were of minor importance to the Tzar and his\nclique. They were ready at any moment to conclude peace with the\nHohenzollerns and Hapsburgs, to free their most loyal regiment for war\nagainst their own people.\n\nThe Progressive Bloc of the Duma mistrusted the Tzar and his Ministers.\nThis Bloc consisted of various parties of the Russian bourgeoisie. The\nBloc had two aims: one, to conduct the war to a victorious end; another,\nto secure internal reforms: more order, control, accounting. A victory\nis necessary for the Russian bourgeoisie to conquer markets, to increase\ntheir territories, to get rich. Reforms are necessary primarily to\nenable the Russian bourgeoisie to win the war.\n\nThe progressive imperialistic Bloc wanted _peaceful_ reforms. The\nliberals intended to exert a Duma pressure on the monarchy and to keep\nit in check with the aid of the governments of Great Britain and France.\nThey did not want a revolution. They knew that a revolution, bringing\nthe working masses to the front, would be a menace to their domination,\nand primarily a menace to their imperialistic plans. The laboring\nmasses, in the cities and in the villages, and even in the army itself,\nwant peace. The liberals know it. This is why they have been enemies of\nthe revolution all these years. A few months ago Milukov declared in\nthe Duma: \"If a revolution were necessary for victory, I would prefer no\nvictory at all.\"\n\nYet the liberals are now in power--through the Revolution. The bourgeois\nnewspaper men see nothing but this fact. Milukov, already in his\ncapacity as a Minister of Foreign Affairs, has declared that the\nrevolution has been conducted in the name of a victory over the enemy,\nand that the new government has taken upon itself to continue the war to\na victorious end. The New York Stock Exchange interpreted the Revolution\nin this specific sense. There are clever people both on the Stock\nExchange and among the bourgeois newspaper men. Yet they are all\namazingly stupid when they come to deal with mass-movements. They think\nthat Milukov manages the revolution, in the same sense as they manage\ntheir banks or news offices. They see only the liberal governmental\nreflection of the unfolding events, they notice only the foam on the\nsurface of the historical torrent.\n\nThe long pent-up dissatisfaction of the masses has burst forth so late,\nin the thirty-second month of the war, not because the masses were held\nby police barriers--those barriers had been badly shattered during the\nwar--but because all liberal institutions and organs, together with\ntheir Social-Patriotic shadows, were exerting an enormous influence over\nthe least enlightened elements of the workingmen, urging them to keep\norder and discipline in the name of \"patriotism.\" Hungry women were\nalready walking out into the streets, and the workingmen were getting\nready to uphold them by a general strike, while the liberal bourgeoisie,\naccording to news reports, still issued proclamations and delivered\nspeeches to check the movement,--resembling that famous heroine of\nDickens who tried to stem the tide of the ocean with a broom.\n\nThe movement, however, took its course, from below, from the\nworkingmen's quarters. After hours and days of uncertainty, of shooting,\nof skirmishes, the army joined in the revolution, from below, from the\nbest of the soldier masses. The old government was powerless, paralyzed,\nannihilated. The Tzar fled from the capital \"to the front.\" The Black\nHundred bureaucrats crept, like cockroaches, each into his corner.\n\nThen, and only then, came the Duma's turn to act. The Tzar had attempted\nin the last minute to dissolve it. And the Duma would have obeyed,\n\"following the example of former years,\" had it been free to adjourn.\nThe capitals, however, were already dominated by the revolutionary\npeople, the same people that had walked out into the streets despite the\nwishes of the liberal bourgeoisie. The army was with the people. Had not\nthe bourgeoisie attempted to organize its own government, a\nrevolutionary government would have emerged from the revolutionary\nworking masses. The Duma of June 3rd would never have dared to seize the\npower from the hands of Tzarism. But it did not want to miss the chance\noffered by interregnum: the monarchy had disappeared, while a\nrevolutionary government was not yet formed. Contrary to all their part,\ncontrary to their own policies and against their will, the liberals\nfound themselves in possession of power.\n\nMilukov now declares Russia will continue the war \"to the end.\" It is\nnot easy for him so to speak: he knows that his words are apt to arouse\nthe indignation of the masses against the new government. Yet he had to\nspeak to them--for the sake of the London, Paris and American Stock\nExchanges. It is quite possible that he cabled his declaration for\nforeign consumption only, and that he concealed it from his own\ncountry.\n\nMilukov knows very well that _under given conditions he cannot continue\nthe war, crush Germany, dismember Austria, occupy Constantinople and\nPoland_.\n\nThe masses have revolted, demanding bread and peace. The appearance of a\nfew liberals at the head of the government has not fed the hungry, has\nnot healed the wounds of the people. To satisfy the most urgent, the\nmost acute needs of the people, _peace_ must be restored. The liberal\nimperialistic Bloc does not dare to speak of peace. They do not do it,\nfirst, on account of the Allies. They do not do it, further, because the\nliberal bourgeoisie is to a great extent responsible before the people\nfor the present war. The Milukovs and Gutchkovs, not less than the\nRomanoff camarilla, have thrown the country into this monstrous\nimperialistic adventure. To stop the war, to return to the ante-bellum\nmisery would mean that they have to account to the people for this\nundertaking. The Milukovs and Gutchkovs are afraid of the liquidation of\nthe war not less than they were afraid of the Revolution.\n\nThis is their aspect in their new capacity, as the government of\nRussia. They are compelled to continue the war, and they can have no\nhope of victory; they are afraid of the people, and people do not trust\nthem.\n\nThis is how Karl Marx characterized a similar situation:\n\n\"From the very beginning ready to betray the people and to compromise\nwith the crowned representatives of the old regime, because the\nbourgeoisie itself belongs to the old world; ... keeping a place at the\nsteering wheel of the revolution not because the people were back of\nthem, but because the people pushed them forward; ... having no faith in\nthemselves, no faith in the people; grumbling against those above,\ntrembling before those below; selfish towards both fronts and aware of\ntheir selfishness; revolutionary in the face of conservatives, and\nconservative in the face of revolutionists, with no confidence in their\nown slogans and with phrases instead of ideas; frightened by the world's\nstorm and exploiting the world's storm,--vulgar through lack of\noriginality, and original only in vulgarity; making profitable business\nout of their own desires, with no initiative, with no vocation for\nworld-wide historic work ... a cursed senile creature condemned to\ndirect and abuse in his own senile interests the first youthful\nmovements of a powerful people,--a creature with no eyes, with no ears,\nwith no teeth, with nothing whatever,--this is how the Prussian\nbourgeoisie stood at the steering wheel of the Prussian state after the\nMarch revolution.\"\n\nThese words of the great master give a perfect picture of the Russian\nliberal bourgeoisie, as it stands at the steering wheel of the\ngovernment after _our_ March revolution. \"With no faith in themselves,\nwith no faith in the people, with no eyes, with no teeth.\" ... This is\ntheir political face.\n\nLuckily for Russia and Europe, there is another face to the Russian\nRevolution, a genuine face: the cables have brought the news that the\nProvisional Government is opposed by a Workmen's Committee which has\nalready raised a voice of protest against the liberal attempt to rob the\nRevolution and to deliver the people to the monarchy.\n\nShould the Russian Revolution stop to-day as the representatives of\nliberalism advocate, to-morrow the reaction of the Tzar, the nobility\nand the bureaucracy would gather power and drive Milukov and Gutchkov\nfrom their insecure ministerial trenches, as did the Prussian reaction\nyears ago with the representatives of Prussian liberalism. But the\nRussian Revolution will not stop. Time will come, and the Revolution\nwill make a clean sweep of the bourgeois liberals blocking its way, as\nit is now making a clean sweep of the Tzarism reaction.\n\n(Published in New York on March 17, 1917.)\n\n\n _June Third_, 1907, was the day on which, after the dissolution of\n the First and Second Dumas, the Tzar's government, in defiance of\n the Constitution, promulgated a new electoral law which eliminated\n from the Russian quasi-Parliament large groups of democratic\n voters, thus securing a \"tame\" majority obedient to the command of\n the government. To say \"The Duma of June Third\" is equivalent to\n saying: \"a Duma dominated by representatives of rich land-owners\n and big business,\" generally working hand in hand with autocracy,\n though pretending to be representatives of the people. In the Duma\n of June Third, the Octobrists and all parties to the right of them\n were with the government, the Constitutional Democrats (Cadets) and\n all parties to the left of them were in the opposition.\n\n The _Progressive Bloc_ was formed in the Duma in 1915. It included\n a number of liberal and conservative factions, together with the\n Cadets, and was opposed to the government. Its program was a\n Cabinet responsible to the Duma.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GROWING CONFLICT\n\n\nAn open conflict between the forces of the Revolution, headed by the\ncity proletariat and the anti-revolutionary liberal bourgeoisie\ntemporarily at the head of the government, is more and more impending.\nIt cannot be avoided. Of course, the liberal bourgeoisie and the\nquasi-Socialists of the vulgar type will find a collection of very\ntouching slogans as to \"national unity\" against class divisions; yet no\none has ever succeeded in removing social contrasts by conjuring with\nwords or in checking the natural progress of revolutionary struggle.\n\nThe internal history of unfolding events is known to us only in\nfragments, through casual remarks in the official telegrams. But even\nnow it is apparent that on two points the revolutionary proletariat is\nbound to oppose the liberal bourgeoisie with ever-growing determination.\n\nThe first conflict has already arisen around the question of the form of\ngovernment. The Russian bourgeoisie needs a monarchy. In all the\ncountries pursuing an imperialistic policy, we observe an unusual\nincrease of personal power. The policy of world usurpations, secret\ntreaties and open treachery requires independence from Parliamentary\ncontrol and a guarantee against changes in policies caused by the change\nof Cabinets. Moreover, for the propertied classes the monarchy is the\nmost secure ally in its struggle against the revolutionary onslaught of\nthe proletariat.\n\nIn Russia both these causes are more effective than elsewhere. The\nRussian bourgeoisie finds it impossible to deny the people universal\nsuffrage, well aware that this would arouse opposition against the\nProvisional Government among the masses, and give prevalence to the\nleft, the more determined wing of the proletariat in the Revolution.\nEven that monarch of the reserve, Michael Alexandrovitch, understands\nthat he cannot reach the throne without having promised \"universal,\nequal, direct and secret suffrage.\" It is the more essential for the\nbourgeoisie to create right now a monarchic counterbalance against the\ndeepest social-revolutionary demands of the working masses. _Formally_,\nin words, the bourgeoisie has agreed to leave the question of a form of\ngovernment to the discretion of the Constituent Assembly. Practically,\nhowever, the Octobrist-Cadet Provisional Government will turn all the\npreparatory work for the Constituent Assembly into a campaign in favor\nof a monarchy against a Republic. The character of the Constituent\nAssembly will largely depend upon the character of those who convoke it.\nIt is evident, therefore, that right now the revolutionary proletariat\nwill have _to set up its own organs, the Councils of Workingmen's\nSoldiers' and Peasants' Deputies, against the executive organs of the\nProvisional Government_. In this struggle the proletariat ought to unite\nabout itself the rising masses of the people, with one aim in view--_to\nseize governmental power_. Only a Revolutionary Labor Government will\nhave the desire and ability to give the country a thorough democratic\ncleansing during the work preparatory to the Constituent Assembly, to\nreconstruct the army from top to bottom, to turn it into _a\nrevolutionary militia_ and to show the poorer peasants in practice that\ntheir only salvation is in a support of a revolutionary labor regime. A\nConstituent Assembly convoked after such preparatory work will truly\nreflect the revolutionary, creative forces of the country and become a\npowerful factor in the further development of the Revolution.\n\nThe second question that is bound to bring the internationally inclined\nSocialist proletariat in opposition to the imperialistic liberal\nbourgeoisie, is _the question of war and peace_.\n\n(Published in New York, March 19, 1917.)\n\n\n\n\nWAR OR PEACE?\n\n\nThe question of chief interest, now, to the governments and the peoples\nof the world is, What will be the influence of the Russian Revolution on\nthe War? Will it bring peace nearer? Or will the revolutionary\nenthusiasm of the people swing towards a more vigorous prosecution of\nthe war?\n\nThis is a great question. On its solution depends not only the outcome\nof the war, but the fate of the Revolution itself.\n\nIn 1905, Milukov, the present militant Minister of Foreign Affairs,\ncalled the Russo-Japanese war an adventure and demanded its immediate\ncessation. This was also the spirit of the liberal and radical press.\nThe strongest industrial organizations favored immediate peace in spite\nof unequaled disasters. Why was it so? Because they expected internal\nreforms. The establishment of a Constitutional system, a parliamentary\ncontrol over the budget and the state finances, a better school system\nand, especially, an increase in the land possessions of the peasants,\nwould, they hoped, increase the prosperity of the population and create\na _vast internal market_ for Russian industry. It is true that even\nthen, twelve years ago, the Russian bourgeoisie was ready to usurp land\nbelonging to others. It hoped, however, that abolition of feudal\nrelations in the village would create a more powerful market than the\nannexation of Manchuria or Corea.\n\nThe democratization of the country and liberation of the peasants,\nhowever, turned out to be a slow process. Neither the Tzar, nor the\nnobility, nor the bureaucracy were willing to yield any of their\nprerogatives. Liberal exhortations were not enough to make them give up\nthe machinery of the state and their land possessions. A revolutionary\nonslaught of the masses was required. This the bourgeoisie did not want.\nThe agrarian revolts of the peasants, the ever growing struggle of the\nproletariat and the spread of insurrections in the army caused the\nliberal bourgeoisie to fall back into the camp of the Tzarist\nbureaucracy and reactionary nobility. Their alliance was sealed by the\n_coup d'etat_ of June 3rd, 1907. Out of this _coup d'etat_ emerged the\nThird and the Fourth Dumas.\n\nThe peasants received no land. The administrative system changed only in\nname, not in substance. The development of an internal market consisting\nof prosperous farmers, after the American fashion, did not take place.\nThe capitalist classes, reconciled with the regime of June 3rd, turned\ntheir attention to the usurpation of foreign markets. A new era of\nRussian imperialism ensues, an imperialism accompanied by a disorderly\nfinancial and military system and by insatiable appetites. Gutchkov, the\npresent War Minister, was formerly a member of the Committee on National\nDefense, helping to make the army and the navy complete. Milukov, the\npresent Minister of Foreign Affairs, worked out a program of world\nconquests which he advocated on his trips to Europe. Russian imperialism\nand his Octobrist and Cadet representatives bear a great part of the\nresponsibility for the present war.\n\nBy the grace of the Revolution which they had not wanted and which they\nhad fought, Gutchkov and Milukov are now in power. For the continuation\nof the war, for victory? Of course! They are the same persons who had\ndragged the country into the war for the sake of the interests of\ncapital. All their opposition to Tzarism had its source in their\nunsatisfied imperialistic appetites. So long as the clique of Nicholas\nII. was in power, the interests of the dynasty and of the reactionary\nnobility were prevailing in Russian foreign affairs. This is why Berlin\nand Vienna had hoped to conclude a separate peace with Russia. Now,\npurely imperialistic interests have superseded the Tzarism interests;\npure imperialism is written on the banner of the Provisional Government.\n\"The government of the Tzar is gone,\" the Milukovs and Gutchkovs say to\nthe people, \"now you must shed your blood for the common interests of\nthe entire nation.\" Those interests the imperialists understand as the\nreincorporation of Poland, the conquest of Galicia, Constantinople,\nArmenia, Persia.\n\nThis transition from an imperialism of the dynasty and the nobility to\nan imperialism of a purely bourgeois character, can never reconcile the\nRussian proletariat to the war. An international struggle against the\nworld slaughter and imperialism are now our task more than ever. The\nlast despatches which tell of an anti-militaristic propaganda in the\nstreets of Petrograd show that our comrades are bravely doing their\nduty.\n\n_The imperialistic boasts of Milukov to crush Germany, Austria and\nTurkey are the most effective and most timely aid for the Hohenzollerns\nand Hapsburgs...._ Milukov will now serve as a scare-crow in their\nhands. The liberal imperialistic government of Russia has not yet\nstarted reform in its own army, yet it is already helping the\nHohenzollerns to raise the patriotic spirit and to mend the shattered\n\"national unity\" of the German people. Should the German proletariat be\ngiven a right to think that all the Russian people and the main force of\nthe Russian Revolution, the proletariat, are behind the bourgeois\ngovernment of Russia, it would be a terrific blow to the men of our\ntrend of mind, the revolutionary Socialists of Germany. To turn the\nRussian proletariat into patriotic cannon food in the service of the\nRussian liberal bourgeoisie would mean _to throw the German working\nmasses into the camp of the chauvinists and for a long time to halt the\nprogress of a revolution in Germany_.\n\nThe prime duty of the revolutionary proletariat in Russia is to show\nthat there is _no power_ behind the evil imperialistic will of the\nliberal bourgeoisie. The Russian Revolution has to show the entire world\nits real face.\n\n_The further progress of the revolutionary struggle in Russia and the\ncreation of a Revolutionary Labor Government supported by the people\nwill be a mortal blow to the Hohenzollerns because it will give a\npowerful stimulus to the revolutionary movement of the German\nproletariat and of the labor masses of all the other countries._ If the\nfirst Russian Revolution of 1905 brought about revolutions in Asia--in\nPersia, Turkey, China--the Second Russian Revolution will be the\nbeginning of a powerful social-revolutionary struggle in Europe. Only\nthis struggle will bring real peace to the blood-drenched world.\n\nNo, the Russian proletariat will not allow itself to be harnessed to the\nchariot of Milukov imperialism. The banner of Russian Social-Democracy\nis now, more than ever before, glowing with bright slogans of inflexible\nInternationalism:\n\nAway with imperialistic robbers!\n\nLong live a Revolutionary Labor Government!\n\nLong live Peace and the Brotherhood of Nations!\n\n(Published in New York, March 20, 1917.)\n\n\n\n\nTROTZKY ON THE PLATFORM IN PETROGRAD\n\n\n(From a Russian paper)\n\nTrotzky, always Trotzky.\n\nSince I had seen him the last time, he has been advanced in rank: he has\nbecome the chairman of the Petrograd Soviet. He has succeeded\nTchcheidze, the wise, sober leader who has lost the confidence of the\nrevolutionary masses. He holds the place of Lenin, the recognized leader\nof the left wing of Social-Democracy, whose absence from the capital is\ndue to external, accidental causes.\n\nIt seems to me that Trotzky has become more nervous, more gloomy, and\nmore restrained. Something like a freezing chill emanates from his deep\nand restless eyes; a cool, determined, ironical smile plays around his\nmobile Jewish lips, and there is a chill in his well-balanced, clear-cut\nwords which he throws into his audience with a peculiar calmness.\n\nHe seems almost lonesome on the platform. Only a small group of\nfollowers applaud. The others protest against his words or cast angry,\nrestless glances at him. He is in a hostile gathering. He is a stranger.\nIs he not also a stranger to those who applaud him and in whose name he\nspeaks from this platform?\n\nCalm and composed he looks at his adversaries, and you feel it is a\npeculiar joy for him to see the rage, the fear, the excitement his words\nprovoke. He is a Mephisto who throws words like bombs to create a war of\nbrothers at the bedside of their sick mother.\n\nHe knows in advance which words will have the greatest effect, which\nwould provoke the most bitter resentment. And the more extreme, the more\npainful his words are, the firmer and stronger is his voice, the slower\nhis speech, the more challenging his tone. He speaks a sentence, then he\nstops to wait till the storm is over, then he repeats his assertion,\nwith sharper intonation and with more disdain in his tone. Only his eyes\nbecome more nervous, and a peculiar disquieting fire is blazing in them.\n\nThis time he does not speak; he reads a written declaration. He reads it\nwith pauses, sometimes accentuating the words, sometimes passing over\nthem quickly, but all the time he is aware of the effect and waits for a\nresponse.\n\nHis voice is the voice of a prophet, a preacher:\n\n\"Petrograd is in danger! The Revolution is in danger! The people are in\ndanger!\" ...\n\nHe is a stranger on the platform, and yet--electric currents flow from\nhim to his surroundings, creating sincere though primitive enthusiasm on\none side, on the other anger and spite. He opens vast perspectives\nbefore the naive faithful masses:\n\n\"Long live an immediate, honest, democratic peace!\"\n\n\"All power to the Workmen's Councils! All the land to the people!\"\n\n\n\n\n INDEX\n\n\n Absolutism, role of, in outgrowing economic basis, 69;\n in promoting industry and science, 69, 70;\n as an end in itself, 70-71.\n\n Agrarian question, 132-136.\n\n Armament for the Revolution, 57-58.\n\n Army, 35, 36, 37.\n\n Bourgeoisie, imperialistic plans of, 189-191;\n afraid of peace, 194-5;\n reactionary, 203-4;\n responsible for the war, 209-211.\n\n Capitalism, preparing its own collapse, 138-9;\n and feudal reaction, 139-140.\n\n Cities, as scene of revolutionary battles, 41;\n social structure of, 71-72.\n\n Class consciousness, of proletariat, as prerequisite to Socialism,\n 124-128.\n\n Constituent Assembly, as a revolutionary slogan, 43-44.\n\n Demonstrations, in the streets, 41-42;\n to become of nation-wide magnitude, 57.\n\n French Revolution, 73-77.\n\n Gapon, 59, 62; 172-3.\n\n Intelligentzia, 145.\n\n January Ninth, 49; 59-60; 171-173.\n\n June Third, 198.\n\n Labor Dictatorship, 94-97;\n crushing absolutism, abandoning its remnants, 103-104;\n introducing class politics, 103;\n introducing class struggle in the village, 104-105;\n introducing Collectivism and Internationalism, 105;\n abandoning distinction between minimum and maximum program, 106;\n and eight hour workday, 106-108;\n and unemployment, 108-9;\n and agriculture, 109;\n and Collectivism, 109-110;\n and class consciousness, 124-128;\n incompatible with economic slavery, 132;\n and agrarian question, 132-136.\n\n Liberalism, denying the existence of revolutionary masses, 52-53;\n defeated by events of January 9th, 54;\n trying to \"tame\" revolutionary people, 55;\n not reliable as partner in Revolution, 173-174; 176-7.\n\n Manoeuvers, revolutionary, 29-30.\n\n Masses, drawn into the Revolution, 37-39;\n as a political reality, 51-52;\n stirred by world-war, 183-4.\n\n Middle-class (_see_ Bourgeoisie), weakness of, in Russia, 71, 72.\n\n Militia, 81-82.\n\n \"Osvoboshdenie,\" 52, 53, 62.\n\n Peasantry, as of no significance in Revolution, 175-7.\n\n Poland, as possible revolutionary link between Russia and Europe,\n 140-41.\n\n Prerequisites to Socialism, in relation to each other, 113-117.\n\n Proletariat, as a vanguard of the Revolution, 33-35;\n role of, in events of January 9th, 56-57;\n stronger than bourgeoisie in Russia, 72;\n growing with capitalism, 84;\n may sooner reach political supremacy in a backward country, 84-85;\n 87-91;\n as liberator of peasants, 98-100;\n as a class objectively opposed to capitalism, 119-124;\n to revolutionize European proletariat, 142-4.\n\n Revolution, in Europe, as aid to Socialism in Russia, 136-7;\n may be result of shattered European equilibrium, 141-42;\n as result of Russian Revolution, 142-4.\n\n Revolution, in general, 83;\n of bourgeois character, 92-93.\n\n Revolution, of _1848_, 77-80.\n\n Revolution, of _1917_, its causes, 181-5;\n social forces in, 191-192;\n to stir up revolution in Germany, 212.\n\n Social-Democracy, foresaw revolution, 55-6;\n natural leader of the Revolution, 60-61.\n\n Soviet, distinguishing Russian Revolution from that of _1848_, 80;\n short history of, 145;\n general survey of the role of, 151-4;\n as class-organization, 154-156;\n as organ of political authority, 158-9;\n an imminent form of Russian Revolution, 160;\n program of (outlined by Trotzky for the future), 160-1;\n to fight against Provisional Government, 203.\n\n \"Spring,\" 24-25; 32; 54.\n\n Strike, political, as beginning of Revolution, 35-36; 42, 43.\n\n Struve, 62.\n\n Technique, industrial, as prerequisite to Socialism, 113; 117-119.\n\n \"Underground,\" and the revolutionist, 165-8.\n\n War, Russo-Japanese, 25;\n of the world, as influencing masses, 183-4.\n\n Witte, 62, 145.\n\n Zemstvo, movement of, in _1904_, 24-25; 33; 62.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:\n\n\nObvious typesetting errors have been corrected. Questionable or vintage\nspelling has been left as printed in the original publication.\nVariations in spelling have been left as printed, unless otherwise noted\nin the following.\n\nIn the original publication, each chapter listed in the Contents section\nwas preceded by a \"title page\" containing only the chapter title as\nlisted in the Contents, followed by a blank page. The chapter title was\nrepeated on the first page in each chapter. The chapter title pages have\nnot been reproduced in this transcription.\n\nPage 90: The following phrase, beginning a quotation, has no closing\nquotation mark in the original publication: \"the struggle for the\ninterests of Russia as a whole....\"\n\nPage 145: Transcribed \"on\" as \"of\" to match the quoted phrase on p. 106:\n\"private ownership of the means of production\". Originally printed as:\n\"'private ownership on the means of production'\".\n\nPage 174: Transcribed \"Caucasas\" as \"Caucasus\". As originally printed:\n\"the insurrection on the Caucasas and in the Lettish provinces.\"\n\nPage 193: Supplied \"to\" in the following phrase, shown in brackets: \"Yet\nhe had to speak [to] them....\"\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Our Revolution, by Leon Trotzky\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by sp1nd, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWORKHOUSE CHARACTERS\n\n[Illustration: Logo]\n\n\n\n\n_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_\n\nIN THE WORKHOUSE\n\nA PLAY IN ONE ACT\n\nThe International Suffrage Shop, John St., Strand, W.C.2 (6d.)\n\n\nPress Notices\n\n\"Dull talk none the less offensive because it may have been\nlife-like.\"--_Daily Mail._\n\n\"The piece though mere talk is strong talk.\"--_Morning Advertiser._\n\n\"The play is clean and cold and humorous. The main value of the piece is\nthat it is a superb genre picture. One or two of the flashes from this\nstrange, generally unknown world are positive sparks of\nlife.\"--_Sheffield Daily Telegraph._\n\n\"I found it interesting and convincing; but then I am prepared to\nbelieve that our laws always will be rotten till lawyers are\ndisqualified from sitting in Parliament.\"--_Reynolds'._\n\n\"The masculine portion of the audience walked with heads abashed in the\n_entr'acte_; such things had been said upon the stage that they were\nsuffused with blushes.\"--_Standard._\n\n\"Delicate matters were discussed with much knowledge and some\ntact.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n\"'In the Workhouse' reminds us forcibly of certain works of M. Brieux,\nwhich plead for reform by painting a terrible, and perhaps overcharged,\npicture of things as they are.... The presence of the idiot girl helps\nto point another moral in Mrs. Nevinson's arraignment, and is therefore\nartistically justifiable; and the more terrible it appears the better\nhave the author and the actress done their work.... Such is the power of\nthe dramatic pamphlet, sincerely written and sincerely acted. There is\nnothing to approach it in directness and force. It sweeps all mere\nprettiness into oblivion.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n\"It is one of the strongest indictments of our antiquated laws relating\nto married women. A man seated behind the present writer called the play\nimmoral! and as Mrs. Nevinson says in her preface to the published\nedition, the only apology she makes for its realism is that it is\ntrue.\"--_Christian Commonwealth._\n\n\"The whole thing left an unpleasant taste.\"--_Academy._\n\n\nNOTE.--Two years after this piece was given by the _Pioneer Players_ the\nlaw was altered.\n\n\n\n\nWORKHOUSE CHARACTERS\n\nAND OTHER SKETCHES OF THE LIFE OF THE POOR\n\nBY\n\nMARGARET WYNNE NEVINSON\n\nL.L.A.\n\n\n The depth and dream of my desire,\n The bitter paths wherein I stray.\n Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,\n Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.\n\n One stone the more swings to her place\n In that dread Temple of Thy Worth--\n It is enough that through Thy grace\n I saw naught common on Thy earth.\n\n RUDYARD KIPLING.\n\n\nLONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD. RUSKIN HOUSE 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C.1\n\n\n Almost the whole of these sketches have appeared in the\n _Westminster Gazette_; the last two were published in the _Daily\n News_, and \"Widows Indeed\" and \"The Runaway\" in the _Herald_. It is\n by the courtesy of the Editors of the above papers that they are\n reproduced in book form.\n\n _First published in 1918_\n\n _(All rights reserved.)_\n\n\nTO MY SON\n\nC. R. W. NEVINSON\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThese sketches have been published in various papers during the last\nthirteen years. Many of the characters are life portraits, and the wit\nand wisdom of the common people have been faithfully recorded in a true\nBoswellian spirit; others are _Wahrheit und Dichtung_ (if one may still\nquote Goethe), but all have been suggested by actual fact and\nexperience.\n\nDuring the last ten years great reforms have been taking place in the\ncountry. In 1908 the Old Age Pensions Act came into force, and the\nweekly miracle of 5s. a week (now 7s. 6d.) changed the world for the\naged, giving them the liberty and independence, which ought to be the\nright of every decent citizen in the evening of life.\n\nThe order by which a pauper husband had the right to detain his wife in\nthe workhouse by \"his marital authority\" is now repealed. A case some\nyears ago of this abominable breach of the law of Habeas Corpus startled\nthe country, especially the ratepayers, and even the House of Commons\nwere amazed at their own laws. The order was withdrawn in 1913 on the\nprecedent of the judgment given in the case of the Queen _v._ Jackson\n(1891), when it was decided \"that the husband has no right, where his\nwife refuses to live with him, to take her person by force and restrain\nher of her liberty\" (60 L. J. Q. B. 346).\n\nMany humane reforms and regulations for the classification of inmates\nwere made in 1913, and the obnoxious words \"pauper\" and \"workhouse\" have\nbeen abolished; but before the authorities rightly grasped the changes\nthe war was upon us, the workhouses were commandeered as military\nhospitals, the inmates sent into other institutions, and all reforms\nlapsed in overcrowded and understaffed buildings.\n\nOnce again the Poor Law is in the melting-pot, and it seems as if now it\nwill pass into the limbo of the past with other old, unhappy far-off\nthings.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n PAGE\nEUNICE SMITH--DRUNK 13\n\nDETAINED BY MARITAL AUTHORITY 21\n\nA WELSH SAILOR 27\n\nTHE VOW 33\n\nBLIND AND DEAF 39\n\n\"AND, BEHOLD, THE BABE WEPT\" 47\n\n\"MARY, MARY, PITY WOMEN!\" 53\n\nTHE SUICIDE 61\n\nPUBLICANS AND HARLOTS 68\n\nOLD INKY 75\n\nA DAUGHTER OF THE STATE 80\n\nIN THE PHTHISIS WARD 85\n\nAN IRISH CATHOLIC 91\n\nAN OBSCURE CONVERSATIONIST 97\n\nMOTHERS 104\n\n\"YOUR SON'S YOUR SON\" 110\n\n\"TOO OLD AT FORTY\" 115\n\nIN THE LUNATIC ASYLUM 118\n\nTHE SWEEP'S LEGACY 126\n\nAN ALIEN 130\n\n\"WIDOWS INDEED!\" 134\n\nTHE RUNAWAY 138\n\n\"A GIRL! GOD HELP HER!\" 145\n\nON THE PERMANENT LIST 148\n\nTHE PAUPER AND THE OLD-AGE PENSION 153\n\nTHE EVACUATION OF THE WORKHOUSE 157\n\n\n\n\nWORKHOUSE CHARACTERS\n\n\n\n\nEUNICE SMITH--DRUNK\n\n The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,\n But Here and There as strikes the Player goes;\n And He that toss'd you down into the Field,\n _He_ knows about it all--He knows--_He_ knows.\n\n\n\"Eunice Smith, drunk, brought by the police.\"\n\nThe quaint Scriptural name, not heard for years, woke me up from the\ndull apathy to which even the most energetic Guardian is reduced at the\nend of a long Board meeting, and I listened intently as the Master of\nthe workhouse went on to explain that the name Smith had been given by\nthe woman, but her clothes and a small book, which the doctor said was\nHomer, in Greek, were marked Eunice Romaine.\n\nEunice Romaine--the name took me back down long vistas of years to a\nconvent school at Oxford, to the clanging bells of Tom Tower, to the\nvibrant note of boys' voices in college chapels, to the scent of flowers\nand incense at early celebrations, to the high devotions and ideals of\nyouth, to its passionate griefs and joys. Eunice Romaine had been the\ngenius of our school--one of those gifted students in whom knowledge\nseems innate; her name headed every examination list, and every prize in\nthe form fell to her; other poor plodders had no chance where she was.\nFrom school she had gone with many a scholarship and exhibition to\nCambridge, where she had taken a high place in the Classical Tripos;\nlater I heard she had gone as Classical Mistress to one of the London\nHigh Schools, then our paths had separated, and I heard no more.\n\nI went down to the Observation Ward after the meeting, where between a\nmaniacal case lying in a strait-waistcoat, alternately singing hymns and\nblaspheming, and a tearful melancholic who begged me to dig up her\nhusband's body in the north-east corner of the garden, I saw my old\nfriend and classmate.\n\nShe was lying very quiet with closed eyes; her hair had gone grey before\nher time, and her face was pinched and scored with the deep\nperpendicular lines of grief and disappointment; but I recognized the\nschool-girl Eunice by the broad, intellectual brow and by the delicate,\nhigh-bred hands.\n\n\"She is rather better,\" said the nurse in answer to my question, \"but\nshe has had a very bad night, screaming the whole time at the rats and\nmice she thought she saw, and the doctor fears collapse, as her heart is\nweak; but if she can get some sleep she may recover.\"\n\nSleep in the crowded Mental Ward, with maniacs shrieking and shouting\naround! But exhausted Nature can do a great deal, and when I called some\ndays later I found my old friend discharged to the General Sick Ward, a\nplacard above her head setting forth her complaint as \"chronic\nalcoholism, cirrhosis of the liver, and cardiac disease.\"\n\nShe recognized me at once, but with the apathy of weakness she expressed\nneither surprise nor interest at our meeting, and only after some weeks\nhad passed I found her one evening brighter and better, and anxious to\ngo out. Over an impromptu banquet of grapes and cakes we fell into one\nof those intimate conversations that come so spontaneously but are so\nimpossible to force, and I heard the short history of a soul's tragedy.\n\n\"Just after I left Cambridge mother died. She told me on her death-bed\nthat I had the taint of drink in the blood, and urged me never to touch\nalcohol. My father--a brilliant scholar and successful journalist--had\nkilled himself with drink whilst we were all quite young; mother had\nkept us all away at school, so that we should not know, and had borne\nher burden alone. I promised light-heartedly; I was young and strong,\nand had not known temptation. After mother died I was very lonely: both\nmy brothers had gone to Canada. My father's classical and literary\nabilities had come only to me: their talents were purely mechanical and\nthey had never been able to acquire book knowledge. I was not very happy\nteaching. Classics had come to me so easily--hereditary question\nagain--that I never could understand the difficulties of the average\ngirl, and I had very little patience with dullness and stupidity.\nHowever, very soon I became engaged to be married, and lived for some\ntime in a fool's paradise of love and joy. My _fiance_ was a literary\nman--I will not tell you his name, as he is one of those who have\narrived--but it is difficult to start, and we waited about two years\nbefore he got an appointment sufficiently secure to make marriage\npossible. I was very busy; we had taken a flat, and I was engaged in\nchoosing furniture and preparing my humble trousseau. I had given notice\nat the school, and the wedding-day was within a fortnight, when one\nmorning I got a letter from my _fiance_, couched in wild, allegorical\nlanguage, bemoaning his unworthiness, but asking me to release him from\nhis engagement, as he found his love for me had been a mirage now that\nhe had come across his twin-soul. I read the letter over and over again,\nhardly grasping the meaning, when there fell from the envelope a little\nnewspaper cutting that I had overlooked--it was the announcement of his\nmarriage three days before to his twin-soul.\n\n\"Still I was unable to realize what had happened. I kept saying over and\nover to myself, 'Charlie is married,' but in my heart I did not believe\nit. That afternoon the head-mistress came to see me; she was very kind,\nand took me herself to a brain specialist, who said I had had a nervous\nshock, that I ought to have a rest, and mountain air would be best for\nme. The council of my school agreed to take me back again, and allow me\na term's holiday on full pay. One of my colleagues (it was holiday-time)\ncame with me to Switzerland, and there, amid the ice and snow of the\nhigh latitudes, the full understanding of what had come to me dawned\nupon my mind, and I realized the pangs of despised love, of jealousy,\nand hate. A _Nachschein_ of Christianity suddenly made me rush back to\nEngland in terror of what might happen; it is easy to commit suicide in\nSwitzerland, and a certain black precipice near the hotel drew me ever\ntowards it with baleful fascination. Some one dragged me again to Harley\nStreet, and this time the great specialist advised sea air and cheerful\nsociety. The latter prescription is not available for lonely and jilted\nhigh-school mistresses in London, but I tried sea air, and it did me\ngood. I don't think for a moment that the doctor realized that I was\npractically off my head; the terribly obsession of love and jealousy had\nme in its grip. It had taken me some time to fall in love, and I could\nnot fall out again to order, whilst the knowledge that the man who had\nbroken his promise to me now belonged to another woman was driving me to\nmadness. One day I went down to bathe, and suddenly determined to end my\nwoe. I swam out far to sea--so far that I judged it beyond my force ever\nto get back; but though my will commanded my limbs to cease their work\nthey refused to obey. I was always a very strong swimmer, and I landed\nagain more humiliated than ever: I had not even the pluck to end my\nsorrows.\n\n\"After that I went back to work; mountains and sea had no message for\nme. I was better sitting at my desk in the class-room, trying to drill\nLatin and Greek into the unresponsive brains of girls.\n\n\"I got through the days, but the nights were terrible; all the great\narmy of forsaken lovers know that the nights are the worst. I used to\nlie awake hour after hour, sobbing and crying for mercy and strength to\nendure, and I used to batter my head against the floor, not knowing any\none could hear. One night a fellow-lodger, who slept in the next room,\ncame in and begged me to be quiet; she had her work to do, and night\nafter night I kept her awake with my sobbing. 'I suppose it is all about\nsome wretched man,' she observed coolly; 'but, believe me, they are not\nworth the love we give them. I left my husband some years ago, finding\nthat he had been carrying on with a woman who called herself my friend.\nAt first I cried and sobbed just as you do now; but I felt such a fool\nmaking such a fuss about a man who had played it down so low, that I\nmade up my mind I would forget him; and in time you will get over this,\nand give thanks that you have been delivered from a liar and a traitor.'\n\n\"She gave me a glass of strong brandy and water; it was the first I had\never tasted, and I remember how it ran warm through my veins, and how I\nslept as I had not slept for months.\n\n\"My fellow-lodger and I became great friends; she was quite an\nuneducated woman, the matron of a laundry, but she braced me up like a\ntonic with her keen humour and experience of life.\n\n\"How strange it seems for a middle-aged drunkard in a pauper infirmary\nto be telling this ancient love-tale, and posing as one of 'the\naristocracy of passionate souls,' But _tout passe tout casse_, and after\nyears of anguish and strife I woke up one bright spring morning and felt\nthat I was cured and for ever free of the wild passion of love. That day\nalways stands out as the happiest of my life. I shall never forget it.\nIt was Saturday, and a holiday; and I got on my bicycle and rode off for\nmiles far into the country singing the _Benedicite_ for pure joy. I\nlunched at a little inn on the Thames, and ordered some champagne to\ncelebrate the recovery of my liberty.\n\n\"But by strange irony of fate the very day I escaped from the toils of\nlove I fell under another tyranny--that of alcohol. Now, Peg\"--I started\nat the unfamiliar old nickname of my school days--\"I believe you are\ncrying. Having shed more than my own share of tears, nothing irritates\nme so much as to see other women cry, and if you don't stop I'll not say\nanother word.\"\n\nI drew my handkerchief across my eyes and admitted to a cold in the\nhead.\n\n\"Shortly afterward I received notice to leave the High School. I did not\nmind--I always hated teaching, and I found that I had the power of\nwriting; an article that I could flash off in a few hours would keep me\nfor a week, and I could create my own paradise for half a crown--now,\nPeg, you are crying again. But of late life was not so bad. I enjoyed\nwriting, and shall always be thankful I can read Greek; besides, I was\nnot always drunk; the craving only takes me occasionally, and at its\nworst alcohol is a kinder master than love. I shall be well enough to go\nout in a few days; bring me some pens and paper, and my editor will\nadvance me some money. I am going to write an article on workhouse\ninfirmaries that will startle the public. What do you know of\nworkhouses? You are only a Guardian; 'tis we musicians (or rather\ninmates) who know.\"\n\nThe article never got written. The next day I found Eunice very ill; she\nwas unconscious and delirious till her death, reeling off sonorous\nhexameters from Homer and Virgil and stately passages from the Greek\ntragedians.\n\nWe spared her a pauper funeral, and a few old school and college friends\ngathered round the grave. A white-haired professor of world fame was\nthere also, and he shook hands with us as we parted at the cemetery\ngates. \"Poor Eunice!\" he said, his aged face working painfully. \"One of\nthe best Greek scholars of the day, and the daughter of my oldest\nfriend. Both of them geniuses, and both of them with the same taint in\nthe blood; but I feel I ought not to have let her come to this.\"\n\nI think we all felt the same as we walked sadly home.\n\n\n\n\nDETAINED BY MARITAL AUTHORITY\n\n (By the law of England the mothers of illegitimate children are\n often in a better position than their married sisters.)\n\n\nAn unusual sense of expectancy pervaded the young women's ward; Mrs.\nCleaver had gone down \"to appear before the Committee,\" and though the\nways of committees are slow, and pauper-time worthless, it was felt that\nher ordeal was being unduly protracted.\n\n\"She's having a dose, she is,\" said a young woman walking up and down,\nfutilely patting the back of a shrieking infant. \"I 'ate appearing afore\nthem committees; last time I was down I called the lady 'Sir' and the\ngentleman 'Mum,' and my 'eart went pitter-patter in my breast so that\nyou might have knocked me down with a feather. 'Ere she is--well, my\ndear, and you do look bad----\"\n\n\"Them committees allus turn me dead sick, and, being a stout woman, my\nboots feel too tight for me, and I goes into a perspiration, and the\ngreat drops go rolling off my forehead. Well, 'e's kept 'is word, and\ngot the law and right of England behind 'im.\"\n\nWhat reporters call a \"sensation\" made itself felt through the ward; the\ninmates gathered closer round Mrs. Cleaver, and screaming infants were\nrocked and patted and soothed with much vigour and little result.\n\n\"Well,\" said Mrs. Cleaver, sinking on to the end of a bed, \"I went afore\nthe Committee and I says, 'I want to take my discharge,' I says; I\napplied last week to the Master, but mine got at 'im first, and Master\nup and says--\n\n\"'No, Mrs. Cleaver, you can't go,' he says; 'your 'usband can't spare\nyou,' he says, 'wants you to keep 'im company in 'ere,' he says.\n\n\"'Is that true, Master?' says the little man wot sits lost in the big\nchair.\n\n\"'That is so, sir,' says Master, and then 'e outs with a big book and\nreads something very learned and brain-confusing that I did not rightly\nunderstand, as to how a 'usband may detain his wife in the workhouse by\nhis marital authority.\n\n\"'Good 'eavens!' says the little lady Guardian 'er wot's dressed so\nshabby. 'Is that the law of England?'\n\n\"Then they all began talking at once most excited, and the little man in\nthe big chair beat like a madman on the table with a 'ammer, and no one\ntook the slightest notice, but when some quiet was restored the little\nman asked me to tell the Board the circumstances. So I says 'ow he lost\nhis work through being drunk on duty, which was the lying tongue of the\nperlice, for 'is 'ed was clear, the drink allus taking him in the legs,\nlike most cabmen, and the old 'oss keeps sober. It was a thick fog, and\nhe'd just got off the box to lead the 'oss through the gates of the\nmews, and the perliceman spotted 'is legs walking out in contrary\ndirections, though 'is 'ed was clear as daylight, and so the perlice ran\n'im in and the beak took his licence from 'im, and 'ere we are.\n\n\"Now I've got over my confinement, and the child safe in 'eaven, after\nall the worrit and starvation, I thought I'd like to go out and earn my\nown living--I'm a dressmaker by trade, and my sister will give me a\n'ome; I 'ate being 'ere--living on the rates, and 'e not having done\nbetter for us than this Bastille--though I allus says as it was the\nlying tongue of a perliceman--it seems fair I should go free. The lady\nwot comes round Sundays told me I ain't got no responsibility for my\nchildren being a married lady with the lines. Then the little man flew\nout most violent: 'Don't talk like that, my good woman; of course you\nhave responsibility to your children; you must not believe what ignorant\npeople tell you.'\n\n\"Then I heard the tall, ginger-haired chap wot sits next to the little\nman--'im as you unmarried girls go before to try and father your\nchildren--I 'eard 'im say quite distinct: 'The woman is right, sir;\nmarried women are not responsible for their children, but I believe the\nhusband is within his rights in refusing to allow her to leave the\nworkhouse without him.'\n\n\"Then they asked me to retire, and the Master told me to come back\n'ere, and I should know the result later. Oh, Lord! I'm that 'ot and\nupset with the worry of it all, I feel I'll never cool again,\" and Mrs.\nCleaver wiped her brow and fanned herself with her apron.\n\n\"Single life has its advantages,\" said a tall, handsome woman, who was\nnursing a baby by the window. \"You with the lines ain't been as perlite\nas might be to us who ain't got 'em, but we 'as the laugh over you\nreally. I'm taking my discharge to-morrow morning, and not one of 'em\ndare say me nay; I needn't appear afore Boards and be worried and upset\nwith 'usbands and Guardians and things afore I can take myself off the\nparish and eat my bread independent.\"\n\n\"But why weren't you married, Pennyloaf? Not for want of asking, I'll be\nbound.\"\n\n\"No, it warn't for want of asking; fact is, I was put off marriage at a\nvery early age. I 'ad a drunken beast of a father as spent his time\na-drinking by day and a-beating mother by night--one night he overdid it\nand killed 'er; he got imprisonment for life, and we was put away in the\nworkhouse schools; it would have been kinder of the parish to put us in\nthe lethal chamber, as they do to cats and dogs as ain't wanted. But we\ngrew up somehow, knowing as we weren't wanted, and then the parish found\nme a situation, under-housemaid in a big house; and then I found as the\nyoung master wanted me, the first time as any human soul had taken any\ninterest in me, and, oh, Lord! I laughs now when I think what a 'appy\ntime it was. Since then I've had four children, and I have twenty-five\nshillings a week coming in regular besides what I can make at the\ncooking. I lives clean and respectable--no drinking, no bad language; my\nchildren never see nor hear what I saw and heard, and they are\nmine--mine--mine. I always comes into the House for confinement, liking\nquiet and skilled medical attendance. I never gets refused--the law\ndaren't refuse such as me. I always leaves the coming in till the last\nmoment; then there are no awkward questions, and when they begin to\ninquire as to settlement, I'm off. All the women in our street are\nexpecting next week, their husbands all out of work, and not a pair of\nsheets or the price of a pint of milk between them, all lying in one\nroom, too, with children and husbands about, as I don't consider decent,\nbut having the lines, it's precious hard for them to get in here, and\nhalf of them daren't come for fear he and some one else will sell up the\n'ome whilst they're away. You remember Mrs. Hall, who died here last\nweek? Well, she told me that her husband swore at her so fearful for\nhaving twins that the doctor sent her in here out of his way, and what\nwith all the upset and the starvation whilst she was carrying the\nchildren, she took fever and snuffed out like a candle. No, the\nneighbours don't know as I'm a bad woman; I generally moves before a\nconfinement, and I 'as a 'usband on the 'igh seas.\n\n\"Well, I'm going back to-morrow to my neat little home, that my\nlady-help has been minding for me, to my dear children and to my regular\nincome, and I don't say as I envies you married ladies your rings or\nyour slavery.\"\n\n\n\n\nA WELSH SAILOR\n\n I will go back to the great sweet mother,\n Mother and lover of men, the sea.\n\n\nThe Master of the Casual Ward rattled his keys pompously in the lock of\nthe high workhouse gates, and the shivering tramps entered the yard, a\nbattered and footsore procession of this world's failures, the outcast\nand down-trodden in the fierce struggle for existence. Some of them were\nyoung and strong, some old and feeble, all wan and white with hunger and\nthe chill of the November fog which wrapped like a wet blanket round\ntheir ill-clothed bodies. Amongst them was an old man with ear-rings,\nand thick, curly white hair, with broad shoulders and rolling gait, and\nas he passed I seemed to feel the salt wind of the sea blowing in my\nface, and the plunge of the good ship in the billows of the bay. One by\none the master shut them up in the dreary little cell where each man is\nlocked for thirty-six hours on a dietary of porridge, cheese, and bread,\nand ten hours' work a day at stone-breaking or fibre-picking. And yet\nthe men walk in with something approaching relief on their weary faces;\nthe hot bath will restore circulation; and really to appreciate a bed\none should wander the streets through a winter's night, or \"lodge with\nMiss Green\" as they term sleeping on the heath.\n\nHalf an hour later, as I sat in one of the sick-wards, I felt once again\nthe salt freshness of the air above the iodoform and carbolic, and lying\non the ambulance I saw the curly white head of the old sailor, his face\nblanched under its tan.\n\n\"Fainted in the bath, no food for three days; we get them in sometimes\nlike that from the Casual Ward. Wait a moment till I put the pillow\nstraight,\" said the nurse, as quickly and deftly she raised the hoary\nhead, which has been called a crown of glory.\n\nA few weeks later I passed through the ward, and saw the old man still\nlying in bed; his sleeves were rolled up, and his nightshirt loose at\nthe throat, and I saw his arms and chest tattooed gorgeously with ships\nand anchors and flags, with hearts and hands and the red dragon of\nWales.\n\n\"He's been very bad,\" said the nurse; \"bronchitis and great\nweakness--been starving for weeks, the doctor thinks. Talks English all\nright when his temperature is down, but raves to himself in a sort of\ndouble-Dutch no one can understand, though we have French and Germans\nand Russians in the ward.\"\n\n\"Fy Nuw, fy Nuw, paham y'm gadewaist?\" cried the old man, and I\nrecognized the cry from the Cross, \"My God, My God, why hast Thou\nforsaken Me?\"\n\n\"Oh! lady,\" he exclaimed as I sat down beside him--\"oh! lady, get me\nout of this. My mates tell me as I'm in the workhouse, and if my old\nmother knew it would kill her--it would, indeed. Yes, lady, I follow the\nsea--went off with my old dad when I was eight year old; we sailed our\nold ship _Pollybach_ for wellnigh forty years; and then she foundered\noff Bushy Island Reef, Torres Straits, and we lost nearly all we had.\nAfter that I've sailed with Captain Jones, of the _Highflyer_, as first\nmate; but now he's dead I can't get a job nohow. I'm too old, and I've\nlost my left hand; some tackle got loose in a storm and fell upon it,\nand though the hook is wonderful handy, they won't enter me any more as\nan A.B.\n\n\"I'm a skipper of the ancient time--a Chantey-man and a fiddler. I can\nnavigate, checking the chronometer by lunar observation. I can rig a\nship from rail to truck; I can reef, hand-steer, and set and take in a\ntop-mast studding sail; and I can show the young fools how to use a\nmarlin-spike. Yes, indeed! But all this is no good now.\n\n\"I came up to London to find an old shipmate--Hugh Pugh. We sailed\ntogether fifty years ago, but he left the sea when he got married and\nstarted in the milk business in London. We was always good mates, and he\nsaid to me not long ago, down in Wales, that the Lord had prospered him,\nand that I was to turn to him in any trouble. So when my skipper died I\nremembered me of Hugh Pugh, and slung my bundle to come and find him.\nFolks was wonderful kind to me along the road, and I sailed along in\nfair weather till I got to London; and then I was fair frightened;\nnavigation is very difficult along the streets--the craft's too\ncrowded--and folks were shocking hard and unkind. I cruised about for a\nlong time, but London's a bigger place than I thought, knowing only the\ndocks; and David Evans doesn't seem to have got the address quite\nship-shape, and I just drifted and lost faith. Somehow it's harder to\ntrust the Lord in London than on the high seas. Then the mates tell me I\nfainted and was brought into the ship's hospital; and here I've lain,\na-coughing, and a-burning, and a-shivering, with queer tunes a-playing\nin my head; couldn't remember the English, they say, and talked only\nWelsh; and they thought I was a Dutchman. This morning I felt a sight\nbetter, and though the nurse told me not to get up, I just tried to put\non my clothes and go; but blowed if my legs didn't behave\nshocking--rolled to larboard, rolled to starboard, and then pitched me\nheadlong, so that I thought I'd shivered all my timbers. So I suppose I\nmust lie at anchor a bit longer; my legs will never stand the homeward\nvoyage, they're that rotten and barnacled; but I'll never get better\nhere; what I'm sickening for is the sea--the sight of her, and the smell\nof her, and the noise of the waves round the helm; she and me's never\nbeen parted before for more than two days, and I'm as sick for her as a\nman for his lass. Oh, dear! oh, dear! If I could only find Hugh\nPugh----\"\n\nI suggested that there was a penny post. \"Yes, lady; but, to tell the\ntruth, I haven't got a stamp, nor yet a penny; and David Evans hasn't\ngot the address ship-shape. The policeman laughed in my face when I\nasked him where Hugh Pugh lived, and said I must get it writ down better\nthan that for London.\" Out of his locker he drew a Welsh Testament\ncontaining a piece of tobacco-stained paper, on which was written--\n\n\n HUGH PUGH, Master Mariner, now Dairyman;\n In a big house in a South-Eastern Road,\n Off the North-road, out of London, Nor-East by Nor.\n\n\nFortunately, Hugh Pugh is not a common name--a visit to the library, a\nsearch in the trade directory, and a telephonic communication saved all\nfurther cruising.\n\nA couple of days later I got a letter from Hugh Pugh--\n\n\nDEAR MADAM,\n\nI thank you for your communication with regard to my old friend and\nshipmate, Joshua Howell, of whom I had lost sight. I am glad to say I am\nin a position to find him some work at once, having given up my London\nbusiness to my sons, and taken a house down by the sea. I am in want of\na good waterman to manage a ferryboat over the river and to take charge\nof a small yacht, and I know that I can trust old Joshua with one hand\nbetter than most men with two. There is a cottage on the shore where he\ncan live with his mother; and tell him we shall all be delighted to\nwelcome an old friend and shipmate. My daughter is coming down here\nshortly with her children, and will be very glad for Joshua to travel\nwith her; she will call and make arrangements for him to go to her house\nas soon as he is well enough to be moved. I enclose L5 for clothes or\nany immediate expenses, and am sorry that my old friend has been through\nsuch privations. As to any expenses for his keep at the infirmary, I\nwill hold myself responsible.\n\nYours faithfully,\n\nHUGH PUGH.\n\nLLANRHYWMAWR, _December 6._\n\n\nA Welsh letter was enclosed for the old sailor, over which he pored with\ntears of joy running down his cheeks.\n\nA few days later Hugh Pugh's daughter's motor throbbed at the door of\nthe workhouse, and the old tar rolled round shaking hands vigorously\nwith the mates: \"Good-bye; good-bye, maties; the Lord has brought me out\nof the stormy waters, and it's smooth sailing now. He'll do the same for\nyou, mates, if you trust Him.\"\n\nThen the door closed, and the fresh breeze dropped, and it seemed as if\nthe ward grew dark and grey.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VOW\n\n Better thou shouldest not vow than thou shouldest vow and not pay.\n\n\nThe heavy machines in the steam-laundry clanked and groaned, and the\nsmell of soap and soda, cleansing the unspeakable foulness of the\ninfirmary linen, rose up strong and pungent, as the women carried out\nthe purified heaps to blow dry in the wind and sunshine.\n\nThe inmates worked hard and steadily under the keen eye of the matron;\nmany of them knew by bitter experience that inattention or gossip might\ncost them the loss of fingers at the calenders and wringing machines.\nMost of the women were strong and able-bodied, and yet the briefest\ninquiry would reveal some moral flaw rendering them incapable of\ncompeting in the labour market--drink, dishonesty, immorality,\nfeeble-mindedness. Amongst the heavy, uncomely figures I noticed a young\nwoman, tall and well-grown, with a face modest and refined, framed in\nmasses of dark hair under the pauper cap. She was folding sheets and\ntable-cloths, working languidly as if in pain, and I drew the matron's\nattention to the fact.\n\n\"Yes, I don't think she'll finish the day's work. I told her to go over\nto the infirmary if she liked, but she said she would rather stay here\nas long as she could. Yes, usual thing, but she is a better class than\nwe get here as a rule.\"\n\nA few days later I saw her again in the lying-in ward, a black-haired\nbabe in the cradle beside her, and her hair in two rope-like plaits\nhanging over the pillow nearly to the ground.\n\nShe looked so healthy, handsome, and honest amongst the disease and\nugliness and vice around that one wondered how she came to the\nworkhouse. \"Yes,\" said the nurse, in answer to my thoughts, \"she is not\nthe sort we have here generally. No, I don't know anything about her;\nshe is very silent, and they say she refused to answer the relieving\nofficer.\" I sat down beside her and tried to talk about her future, but\nthe girl answered in monosyllables, with tightly shut lips, as if she\nwere afraid to speak.\n\n\"Won't the father of your child do anything for you?\"\n\n\"I do not wish him to.\"\n\nI had been a Guardian long enough to respect reticence, and I rose to\ngo. The darkness of the December afternoon had fallen in the long,\nhalf-empty ward, the sufferers dozed, the wailing of babes was hushed,\nall was strangely quiet, and as I reached the door I heard a voice,\n\"Please come back, ma'am; I should like to ask you something.\" Then, as\nI turned to her bedside again, \"I have not told any one my story here;\nI don't think they would believe me; but it is true all the same. But\nplease tell me first, do you hold with keeping a vow?\"\n\n\"Yes, certainly I do.\"\n\n\"That is why I am here. I swore an oath to my dying mother, and I have\nkept it. I did not know how hard it would be to keep, but because I\nwould not break it I have come to disgrace. When we were children we had\na cruel, drunken father, and I seem to remember mother always crying,\nand at night we would be wakened with screams, and we used to rush in\nand try and stop father beating her to death, and the cruel blows used\nto half shatter our poor little bodies. One night we were too late, and\nwe saw mother wrapped in a sheet of flame--and her shrieks! It is\nfifteen years ago now, but they still ring in my ears. The neighbours\ncame and the police, and they put out the fire, and took mother to the\nhospital and father to the lock-up. Mother did not live long and she\nsuffered cruel. The next day they took us children to see her. We hardly\nknew it was mother; she was bandaged up with white like a mummy, and\nonly one black eye blazing like a live coal out of the rags--she had\nbeautiful eyes--made us know her. The little boys cried, so that nurse\ntook them out again, but they let me stay with her all night, holding a\nbit of rag where her hand had once been. Just as the grey dawn came in\nat the windows mother spoke, very low so that I had to stoop down to\nhear: 'Hester, my child, swear to me you will never marry, and I will\ndie happy. The boys can look after themselves, but I cannot bear to\nthink of you suffering as I have suffered.'\n\n\"'Yes, mother, I'll swear.' No girl of thirteen is keen on marriage,\nparticularly with a father like ours, and I took up the book\nlight-heartedly and swore 'So help me, God.'\n\n\"'Thank Heaven, my dear! Now kiss me.'\n\n\"I kissed a bit of rag where her mouth had been, and I saw that the\nblack eye was dim and glazed, and the eyelid fell down as if she were\nsleeping. I sat on till the nurses changed watch, and then they told me\nshe was dead.\n\n\"Father got a life sentence, the boys were sent to workhouse schools,\nand some ladies found me a situation in the country near Oxford. When I\nwas about seventeen the under-gardener came courting me. He was a\nstraight, well-set-up young chap, and I fell in love with him at once,\nbut when he talked about marriage--having good wages--I remembered my\noath. Jem said an oath like that wasn't binding; and when I said I'd\nlive with him if he liked, he was very shocked, having honourable\nintentions, and he went and fetched the vicar to talk to me. He was a\nvery holy man, with the peace of God shining through his eyes, and he\ntalked so kind and clever, telling me that mother was dying and half-mad\nwith pain and weakness, and that she would be the first to absolve me\nfrom such a vow. I couldn't argue with him, and so I forgot my manners,\nand ran out of the room for fear he'd master me. When Jem saw nothing\nwould move me he went off one morning to America, leaving a letter to\nsay as he had gone away for fear he should take me at my word and be my\nruin.\n\n\"Things were very black after that; I had not known what he was to me\ntill the sea was between us, and, worse than the sea, my oath to the\ndying. I left my good situation because I could not bear it any longer\nwithout him, and I came up to London and got into bad places and saw\nmuch wickedness, and got very lonely and very miserable, and learnt what\ntemptation is to girls left alone. I used to go into the big Catholic\ncathedral by Victoria Station and kneel down by the image of the Virgin\nand just say, 'Please help me to keep my oath.'\n\n\"Then one day in spring, when all the flowers were out in the park, and\nall the lovers whispering under the trees, I remembered I was\ntwenty-seven, and though I could never have a husband at least I might\nhave a child. A great wave of longing came over me that I could not\nresist, and so I fell. And then later, when I knew what was coming to\nme, I was filled with terrible remorse--leastways one day I was full of\njoy because of my baby, and the next day I was fit to drown myself in\nshame. Then the Sunday before I was brought in here I went to service in\nSt. Paul's. I had felt sick and queer all day, and I just sat down on\none of the seats at the back and listened to the singing high and sweet\nabove my head, like the chanting of the heavenly host. I was always fond\nof going to St. Paul's, and once on my Sunday out I even went to the\nSacrament, and I says, 'O God, I've lost my character, but I've kept my\noath. You made me so fond of children; please don't let me eat and drink\nmy own damnation.'\n\n\"I sat and thought of this, puzzling and puzzling, and the hot air out\nof the gratings made me drowsy, and I fell asleep and dreamt it was the\nJudgment Day, and I stood with my baby before the Throne, and a great\nwhite light shone on me, bleak and terrible, so that I felt scorched\nwith blinding cold. And the angel from his book read out: 'Hester French\nand her bastard child.'\n\n\"Then there came a little kind voice: 'She kept her oath to her dying\nmother, and remember, she was a woman and all alone'; and I knew it was\nthe Virgin Mary pleading for me. And then a voice like thunder sounded:\n'Blot out her sin!' and all the choirs of heaven sang together; and I\nawoke, but it was only the organ crashing out very loud, and the verger\nshaking me because he wanted to lock up. Oh, ma'am, do you think as my\nsin will be forgiven? At least I kept my vow.\"\n\n\n\n\nBLIND AND DEAF\n\n Oh, human soul! as long as thou canst so\n Set up a mark of everlasting light,\n Above the howling senses' ebb and flow,\n To cheer thee and to right thee if thou roam--\n Not with lost toil thou labourest through the night!\n Thou mak'st the heaven thou hop'st indeed thy home.\n\n\nMary Grant, pauper, of Sick Ward 42, had been making charges of\nunkindness against Nurse Smith, and I had been appointed by the House\nCommittee to inquire into the matter. I found a somewhat\nharassed-looking nurse filling up temperature-charts in a corner of the\nward, and she began volubly to deny the charges.\n\n\"The woman's deaf, so it is no good shouting at her, and I believe she\nis angry because I can't talk on my fingers; but what with looking after\nboth wards and washing and bathing them all, and taking their\ntemperatures and feeding them, and giving them their medicine, I have\nnot time to attend to the fads and fancies of each one. Granny Hunt,\ntoo, takes half my time seeing that she does not break her neck with her\nantics; and as to scraping the butter off Grant's bread I hope as the\nCommittee did not attend to such a tale.\"\n\nThe last accusation, I assured her, had not even been brought before\nus, and I passed down the long clean ward where lay sufferers of all\nages and conditions--the mighty head of the hydrocephalus child side by\nside with the few shrivelled bones of an aged paralytic. I passed the\nfamous Mrs. Hunt--a \"granny\" of ninety-six, who \"kept all her limbs very\nsupple\" and herself in excellent condition by a system of mattress\ngymnastics which she had evolved for herself. Two comparatively young\npeople of seventy and eighty, who were unfortunate enough to lie next\nher, complained bitterly of Granny's restlessness; but the old lady was\npast discipline and \"restraining influences,\" and, beyond putting a\nscreen round her to check vanity and ensure decency, the authorities\nleft her to her gymnastic displays. On the whole, though, the ward was\nvery proud of Granny; she was the oldest inhabitant, not only in the\nHouse but also in the parish, and even female sick-wards take a certain\npride in holding a record. The old lady cocked a bright eye, like a\nbird, upon me as I passed her bed, and, cheerfully murmuring \"Oh, the\nagony!\" executed a species of senile somersault with much agility.\n\nRound the blazing fire at the end of the ward (for excellent fires\ncommend me to those rate-supported) sat a group of \"chronics\" and\nconvalescents--a poor girl, twisted and racked with St. Vitus's dance,\nwhite-haired \"grannies\" in every stage of rheumatic or senile decay, and\na silent figure with bowed head, still in early middle life, who, they\ntold me, was Mary Grant.\n\nI shouted my inquiries down her ear _crescendo fortissimo_, without the\nsmallest response--not even the flicker of an eyelid--whilst the\ngrannies listened with apathetic indifference.\n\n\"Not a bit of good, ma'am,\" they said presently, when I paused,\nexhausted; \"she's stone deaf.\"\n\nThen I drew a piece of paper from my pocket and wrote my questions, big\nand clear.\n\n\"Not a bit of good, ma'am,\" shouted the grannies again; \"she's stone\nblind.\"\n\nI gazed helplessly at the silent figure, with the blood still flowing in\nher veins, and yet living, as it were, in the darkness and loneliness of\nthe tomb.\n\n\"If she is blind and deaf and dumb, how does she manage to complain?\"\n\n\"Oh! she manages that all right, ma'am,\" said a granny whose one eye\ntwinkled humorously in its socket; \"she's not dumb--not 'alf. The nuss\nthat's left and Mrs. Green, the other blind lidy, talk on her fingers to\nher, and she grumbles away, when the fit takes 'er, a treat to 'ear; not\nas I blimes her, poor sowl; most of us who comes 'ere 'ave something to\nput up with; but she 'as more than 'er share of trouble. No, none of us\nknow 'ow to do it--we aren't scholards; but you catches 'old on 'er\n'and, and mauls it about in what they call the deaf-and-dumb halphabet,\nand she spells out loud like the children.\"\n\nI remembered with joy that I also was \"a scholard,\" for one of the few\nthings we all learned properly at school was the art of talking to each\nother on our fingers under the desks during class. A good deal of water\nhad flowed under London Bridge since then, but for once I felt the\nadvantage of what educationists call \"a thorough grounding.\"\n\n\"How are you?\" spelt out a feeble, harsh voice as I made the signs--I\nhad forgotten the \"w\" and was not sure of the \"r,\" but she guessed them\nwith ready wit--then in weird rasping tones, piping and whistling into\nshrill falsetto like the \"cracking\" voice of a youth, she burst into\ntalk: \"Oh! I am so thankful--so thankful. It seems years since any one\ncame to talk to me--the dear nurse has left, and the other blind lady's\ngone to have her inside taken out, and the blind gentleman is taking a\nholiday, and I have been that low I have not known how to live. '_Thou\nhast laid me in the lowest pit; in a place of darkness and in the deep.\nThine indignation lieth hard upon me; and Thou hast vexed me with all\nThy storms._' David knew how I feel just exactly--might have been a deaf\nand blind woman himself, shut up in a work'us. I have been here nigh on\ntwo year now; I used to do fine sewing and lace-mending for the shops,\nand earned a tidy bit, being always very handy with my needle; then one\nday, as I was stitching by the window--finishing a job as had to go home\nthat night--a flash of lightning seemed to come and hit me in the eye\nsomehow--I remember how the fire shone bright zig-zag across the black\nsky, and then there was a crash, and nothing more.\n\n\"No, it was not a very nice thing to happen to anybody; two year ago\nnow, and there has been nothing but fierce, aching blackness round me\never since, and great silence except for the rumblings in my ears like\ntrains in a tunnel; but I hear nothing, not even the thunder. At first I\nfretted awful; I felt as if I must have done something very wicked for\nGod to rain down fire from heaven on me as if I had been Sodom and\nGomorrah; but I'd not done half so bad as many; I'd always kept myself\nrespectable, and done the lace-mending, and earned enough for mother,\ntoo--fortunately, she died afore the thunder came and hit me, or she'd\nhave broken her heart for me. It was very strange. Mother was such a one\nto be frightened at thunder, and when we lived in the country before\nfather died she always took a candle and the Book and went down to the\ncellar out of the way of the lightning--seemed as if she knew what a\nnasty trick the thunder was going to play me--she was always a very\nunderstanding woman, was mother--she came from Wales, and had what she\ncalled 'the sight.'\n\n\"Yes; I went on fretting fearful about my sins until the blind gentleman\nfound me out--him as comes oh Saturdays and teaches us blind ladies to\nread. Oh, he was a comfort! He learned me the deaf alphabet, and how to\nread in the Braille book, and it's not so bad now. He knows all about\nthe heavenly Jerusalem, and the beautiful music and the flowers\nblossoming round the Throne of God. I think he's what they calls a\nMethody, and mother and I were Church. I used to go to the Sunday\nSchool, and learnt the Catechism, and 'thus to think of the Trinity.'\nHowever, he's a very good man all the same, and a great comfort--and he\nfound me a special text from God: 'Then the eyes of the blind shall be\nopened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped.' That is the\npromise to me and to him; being blind, he understands a bit himself,\nthough what the hullaballoo in my ears is no tongue can tell.\n\n\"Mrs. Green, the other blind lady, is such a one to be talking about the\ndiamonds and pearls in the crowns of glory; but I don't understand\nnothing about no jewels. What I seem to want to see again is the row of\nscarlet geraniums that used to stand on our window-sill; the sun always\nshone in on them about tea-time, and mother and I thought a world of the\nlight shining on them red Jacobys. But the blind gentleman says as I\nshall see them again round the Throne.\"\n\n\"She wanders a bit,\" said the one-eyed granny, touching her forehead\nsignificantly; \"she's such a one for this Methody talk.\"\n\nI have noticed that the tone of the workhouse, though perfectly tolerant\nand liberal, is inclined to scepticism, in spite of the vast\npreponderance of the Church of England (C. of E.) in the \"Creed Book.\"\n\n\"Let her wander, then,\" retorted another orthodox member; \"she ain't\ngot much to comfort her 'ere below--the work'us ain't exactly a\nparadise. For Gawd's sake leave 'er 'er 'eaven and 'er scarlet\ngeraniums.\"\n\n\"One thing, ma'am, as pleased her was some dirty old lace one of the\nlidies brought for her one afternoon. She was just as 'appy as most\nfemales are with a babby, a-fingering of it and calling it all manner of\nqueer names. There isn't a sight of old lace knocking about 'ere,\" and\nher one eye twinkled merrily; \"I guess we lidies willed it all away to\nour h'ancestry afore seeking retirement. Our gowns aren't hexactly\ntrimmed with priceless guipure, though there's some fine 'and embroidery\non my h'apern,\" and she thrust the coarsely darned linen between the\ndelicate fingers.\n\n\"Garn!--they're always a-kiddin' of me. Yes, ma'am, I love to feel real\nlace; I can still tell them all by the touch--Brussels and Chantilly and\nHoniton and rose-point; it reminds me of the lovely things I used to\nmend up for the ladies to go to see the Queen in.\"\n\nThey showed me her needlework--handkerchiefs and dusters hemmed with\nmuch accuracy, and knitting more even than that of many of us who can\nsee.\n\nAs I rose to go she took my finger and laid it upon the cabalistic signs\nof the \"Book.\"\n\n\"Don't you understand it? That's my own text, as I reads when things are\nworse than general: 'Our light affliction, which is but for a moment,\nworketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.' Yes,\nthere'll be glory for me--glory for me--glory for me.\"\n\nI heard the shrill, hoarse voice piping out the old revival hymn, very\nmuch out of tune, as I passed down the ward.\n\nI had a nasty lump in my throat when I got back to the Board Room, and I\ncan't exactly remember what I said to the Committee. I think I cleared\nNurse Smith from any definite charge of cruelty, something after the\nfashion of the Irish jurymen: \"Not guilty, but don't do it again,\"\nadding the rider that Mary Grant was blind and deaf, and if she grumbled\nit was not surprising.\n\nIt is possible my report was incoherent and subversive of discipline,\nand my feelings were not hurt because it was neither \"received,\" nor\n\"adopted,\" nor \"embodied,\" nor \"filed for future reference,\" but,\nmetaphorically speaking, \"lay on the table\" to all eternity.\n\n\n\n\n\"AND, BEHOLD, THE BABE WEPT\"\n\n And, behold, the babe wept. And she had compassion upon him.\n\n\nThe night-porter sat in his lodge at 1 a.m., trying hard to keep off the\nsleep that weighed his eyelids down--that heavy sleep that all\nnight-watchers know when nothing in the world seems worth a longer\nvigil.\n\nBut the man before him had been dismissed for sleeping on duty, and our\nnight-porter had had six months out of work, so, with resolute\ndetermination, he dragged up his leaden limbs and began to pace the\ncorridors towards the Mental Ward, where he knew the screams of the\ninsane were generally to be relied upon to keep sleep away from any one\nin the neighbourhood. To-night all was quiet, and it was with a brief\nprayer of thanksgiving that he heard the insistent note of the electric\nbell, and rushed to answer it, the lethargy leaving him under the\nnecessity of action.\n\nA policeman entered in a blast of wind and rain, drops off his cape,\nmaking black runlets on the white stone floor. From under his arm he\ndrew a red bundle and laid it carefully down on a mat in front of the\nfire. \"Evening, porter, I've brought you a present from the cabbage-bed.\nWhat do you think of that for a saucy girl? Hush, my dear! don't cry,\"\nas the babe, unsettled from his warm arms, gave forth a shrill cry of\ndispleasure. \"Pretty little thing, ain't she? and left out under a\nlaurel-bush this bitter night. Some women are worse than brutes.\"\n\nThe porter, who was himself a married man, picked up the babe and\nsoothed it in practised arms. \"And 'ow about the father? Something as\ncalls itself a man 'as 'ad an 'and in this business, and druv the gal to\nit, may be. My old dad allus says, 'God cuss the scoundrel who leaves a\npoor lass to bear her trouble alone!'\"\n\n\"And now,\" said the policeman, when the nurse, summoned by telephone,\nhad borne off the indignant babe to the Children's Ward, \"I suppose you\nmust enter the case. I found the kid under a laurel-bush at 7, Daventry\nTerrace. A lady blew a whistle out of the window and said she could not\nsleep for a whining outside. I tried to put her off as it was cats, but\nshe stuck to it; so, just to quiet her, I cast round with my lantern,\nand, sure enough, she was right. Mighty upset about it, poor woman, she\nwas, being a single lady. However, as I told her, such things may happen\nin any garden, married or single.\"\n\nA name was chosen for her by an imaginative member of the House\nCommittee, remembering his classical education--Daphne Daventry--the\nChristian name as an everlasting reminder of her foster parent the\nlaurel-bush.\n\nIn due season the familiar notices were posted at the police-stations\noffering \"a reward for the discovery of person or persons unknown who\nhad abandoned a female infant in the garden of 7, Daventry Terrace,\nwhereby the aforesaid female infant had become chargeable to the\nparish\"; and, the Press giving publicity to the affair, offers of\nadoption poured in to the Guardians--pathetic letters from young mothers\nwhose children had died, and business-like communications from\nmiddle-aged couples, who had \"weighed the matter\" and were \"prepared to\nadopt the foundling.\"\n\nThe Board discussed the question at their next meeting, and the Clerk\nwas directed to inquire into the character and circumstances of the most\nlikely applicants.\n\n\"One thing to which I should like to draw the attention of the Board,\"\nsaid a conscientious Guardian, \"is the importance of bringing up a child\nin the religion of its parents.\"\n\n\"Seems to me, in this case,\" retorted a working-man member, who was also\na humorist, \"that it might be a good thing to try a change.\"\n\nAnd then the Clerk, in his clear legal way, pointed out that the\nreligious question had better not be pressed, as there was small\nevidence before him as to the theological tenets of the person or\npersons unknown who had exposed the female infant.\n\nMeantime, the latest workhouse character slumbered in the nursery in\npassive enjoyment of the excellent rate-supported fires, and was fed\nwith a scientific fluid, so Pasteurized and sterilized and generally\nBowdlerized that it seemed quite vulgar to call it milk. The nurses\nadorned the cot with all the finery they could collect, and all the\nwomen in the place managed to evade the rules of classification, and got\ninto the nursery, where they dandled the infant and said it was \"a\nshame.\"\n\nOne of the most devoted worshippers at the shrine of Daphne Daventry was\na lady Guardian, a frail and tiny little woman, with a pair of wide-open\neyes, from which a look of horror was never wholly absent. She was\nalways very shabbily dressed--so shabbily, indeed, that a new official\nhad once taken her for a \"case\" and conducted her to the waiting-room of\napplicants for relief. After such an object-lesson, any other woman\nwould have gone to do some shopping; but not so the little lady\nGuardian--she did not even brighten her dowdiness with a new pair of\nbonnet-strings. Though she wrote herself down in the nomination-papers\nas a \"married woman,\" no one had ever seen or heard of her husband, and\nreport said that he was either a lunatic or a convict.\n\nThis mystery of her married life, combined with her \"dreadful\nappearance\" and a certain reckless generosity towards the poor, made her\nmany enemies amongst scientific philanthropists. Her large-hearted\ncharity had been given to the just and the unjust, to the drunk as well\nas the sober, and the Charity Organization Society complained that her\ninvestigations were not thorough, and that the quality of her mercy was\nneither strained nor trained. But the little lady Guardian opened her\nold silk purse again and quoted the Scriptures: \"Give to him that asketh\nthee, and from him that would borrow turn not thou away.\"\n\nThe C.O.S. replied, such precepts had proved to be out of date\neconomically, and nominated a more modern lady, who had missed a great\ncareer as a private detective.\n\nBut the little lady Guardian had a faithful majority, and her name was\nalways head of the poll.\n\nOne afternoon, as the little lady Guardian sat by the fire with Daphne\nDaventry on her shabby serge lap, a prospective parent, Mrs. Annie\nSmith, was brought up to see if she \"took to the child.\"\n\n\"Oh, what a lovely baby!\" she cried, falling on her knees to adore.\n\"What nice blue eyes, and what dear little hands! And her hair is\nbeginning to grow already! Both my children died five years ago; I have\nnever had another, and I just feel as if I could not live without a\nbaby. It is terrible to lose one's children.\"\n\n\"It is worse to have none.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no!\"\n\n\"Yes, it is,\" said the little lady Guardian in a low voice, as if she\nwere talking to herself. \"When I was a little girl I had six sailor-boy\ndolls, and I always meant to have six sons; but directly after my\nmarriage I realized it could never be.\"\n\nMrs. Smith had known sorrow, and, feeling by intuition that she was in\nthe presence of no ordinary tragedy, she held her peace.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" she asked presently, \"you are going to adopt this baby? You\nseem very fond of her.\"\n\n\"I love all babies, but I don't think I could adopt one; these workhouse\nchildren don't start fair, and I should be too frightened. If the child\nwent wrong later, I don't think I could bear it.\"\n\nMrs. Smith had been a pupil-teacher, and in the last five years of\nleisure she had read widely, if confusedly, at the free library. \"But\npeople now no longer believe in heredity. Weissman's theory is that\nenvironment is stronger then heredity.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the little lady Guardian.\n\n\"Do read him,\" said Mrs. Smith excitedly, \"and then you won't feel so\nlow-spirited, and perhaps the Guardians will let you adopt the next\nfoundling. But please let me have this one. I have taken to her more\nthan I thought. Oh! please, please----\"\n\n\"I will vote for you at the next Board meeting,\" said the little lady\nGuardian, \"and may she make up to you for the children you have lost.\"\n\nA few days later Mrs. Annie Smith, her honest face beaming with joy,\narrived again at the workhouse, followed by a small servant with a big\nbundle. The attiring of the infant was long and careful, and many came\nto help, and then Daphne Daventry was whirled away in a flutter of\npurple and fine linen, and the burden of the rates was lightened.\n\n\n\n\n\"MARY, MARY, PITY WOMEN!\"\n\n\nA woman sat alone with folded hands in a dark fireless room. There was\nlittle or no furniture to hold the dust, and one could see that the\npitiful process known as \"putting away\" had been going on, for the\ncleanly scrubbed boards and polished grate showed the good housewife's\nstruggle after decency. On a small table in the centre of the room stood\nhalf a loaf of bread, a jug of water, and a cup of milk. The woman bore\ntraces of good looks, but her face was grey and pinched with hunger, and\nin her eyes was a smouldering fire of resentment and despair.\n\nPresently the silence and gloom was broken by the entrance of a troop of\nchildren returning noisily from school. Their faces fell when they saw\nthe scanty meal, and the youngest, a child of four or five, threw\nhimself sobbing into his mother's arms: \"Oh, mother, I'se so hungry; we\nonly had that bit of bread for dinner.\"\n\n\"Hush, dear! There is a little milk for you and Gladys; you can drink as\nfar as the blue pattern, and the rest is for her.\"\n\nThe mother kissed him and tried to dry his tears; but it is hard to hear\none's children crying for food; and presently her fortitude gave way,\nand she began to sob too. The older children, frightened at her\nbreakdown, clung round her, weeping; and the room echoed like a\ntorture-chamber with sobs and wails.\n\nPresently a knock sounded at the door, and a stout, motherly woman\nentered. \"Good evening, Mrs. Blake; I've just looked in to know if you'd\nbring the children to have a cup of tea with me. I'm all alone, and I\nlike a bit of company. H'albert is always the boy for my money. I just\nopened a pot of my home-made plum jam on purpose for him. There, my\ndear, have your cry out, and never mind me! Things have gone badly with\nyou, I know, and nothing clears the system so well as a good cry; you\nfeel a sight better after, and able to face the world fair and square.\nNow, kiddies, leave mother to herself for a bit and come and help me set\nthe tea things. Let's see, we shall be seven all told; so, Lily, will\nyou run upstairs to Mrs. Johnson--my compliments, and will she oblige\nwith a cup and saucer, as we are such a big party.\"\n\nThe landlady's kitchen was warmed with a big fire, and hermetically\nsealed against draughts; a big bed took up the greater part of the room,\nand this formed a luxurious divan for the four children, to whom the hot\ntea and toast, the tinned lobster, and the home-made jam were nectar and\nambrosia. Mrs. Blake had the place of honour by the fire, and when the\nmeal was over the children were advised to run out for a game in the\nstreet, and Mrs. Wells, turning her chair round to the cheerful blaze,\nsaid soothingly--\n\n\"Now, my dear, you look a bit better. Tell us all about it.\"\n\n\"Yes, you were quite right; we have to go into the workhouse. I went\nround to the Rev. Walker, and he advised me to go to the police-station,\nand they told me there as I and the children had better become a burden\nto the rates as we are destitute, and they can start looking for Blake,\nto make him pay the eighteen shillings a week separation order. To think\nof me and my children having to go into the House, and me first-class in\nthe scholarship examination! It breaks my heart to think of it.\"\n\n\"Yes; you've 'ad a rough time, my dear--worse than the rest of us, and\nwe all have our troubles. I remember when you came a twelvemonth ago to\nengage the room, and you said you was a widow. I passed the remark to\nWells that evening: 'The lidy in the top-floor back ain't no widow; mark\nmy words, there's a 'usband knocking about somewhere!' On the faces of\nthem as are widows I have noticed a great peace, as if they were giving\nof thanks that they are for ever free from the worritings of men, and\nthat look ain't on your face, my dear--not by a long chalk!\"\n\n\"Yes, he's alive all right; I got a separation order from him a couple\nof years ago. He went off with a woman in the next street, and though he\nsoon tired of her and came back again, I felt I could not live with him\nany longer; the very sight of him filled me with repulsion and loathing.\nFather and mother always warned me against him; father told me he saw he\nwasn't any good; but then, I was only nineteen, and obstinate as girls\nin love always are, and I wouldn't be said. Poor father! I often wish as\nI'd listened to him, but I didn't, and I always think it was the death\nof him when I went home and told him what my married life was. He had\nbeen so proud of me doing so well at school and in all the examinations.\nJust at first we were very happy after our marriage. He earned good\nmoney as a commercial traveller in the drapery business; we had a little\nhouse in Willesden, and a piano, and an india-rubber plant between the\ncurtains in the parlour, and a girl to help with the housework, and I,\nlike a fool, worshipped the very ground he walked on. Then, after a\ntime, he seemed to change; he came home less and took to going after\nwomen as if he were a boy of eighteen instead of a married man getting\non for forty. He gave me less and less money for the house, and spent\nhis week-ends at the sea for the good of his health. One very hot summer\nthe children were pale and fretting, and I was just sick for a sight of\nthe sea, but he said he could not afford to take us, not even for a\nday-trip; afterwards I heard as Mrs. Bates was always with him, there\nwas plenty of money for that. That summer it seemed as if it never would\nget cool again, and one evening in late September my Martin was taken\nvery queer. I begged my husband not to go away, I felt frightened\nsomehow, but he said as some sea-air was necessary for his health, and\nthat there was nothing the matter with the boy, only my fussing. That\nnight Martin got worse and worse; towards morning a neighbour went for\nthe doctor, but the child throttled and died in my arms before he came.\nI was all alone. I didn't even know my husband's address, and when I\nwent with the little coffin all alone to the cemetery it seemed as if I\nleft my heart there in the grave with the boy. He was my eldest, and\nnone of the others have been to me what he was. Later on all the girls\ncaught the diphtheria, but they got well again, only Martin was taken.\nBlake seemed a bit ashamed when he got back; but he left Willesden, some\nof the neighbours speaking out plain to him about Mrs. Bates, and he not\nto be found to follow his child's funeral. He tried to make it up with\nme; but I told him I was going to get a separation order, as I'd taken a\nsort of repulsion against looking at him since Martin had died alone\nwith me, and the magistrate made an order upon him for eighteen\nshillings a week--little enough out of the five or six pounds a week he\ncould earn before he took to wine and women and Mrs. Bates. My little\nhome and the piano were sold up, and I soon found eighteen shillings a\nweek did not go far with four hungry children to clothe and feed, and\nrent beside. I tried to get back in my old profession, but I had been\nout of it too long, no one would look at me, and I could only get\ncooking and charing to do--very exhausting work when you haven't been\nbrought up to it. At first I got the money pretty regular, but lately it\nhas been more and more uncertain, some weeks only eight or ten\nshillings, and sometimes missing altogether. He owes me now a matter of\ntwenty pound or more, and last week I braced myself up and determined to\ndo what I could to recover it. If it was only myself, I'd manage, but,\nwork hard as I can, I can't keep the five of us, and it has about broke\nmy heart lately to hear the children crying with hunger and cold. Mrs.\nRobins, where I used to work, died a fortnight ago, and I shan't find\nany one like her again. When one of the ladies goes, it is a job to get\nanother, so many poor creatures are after the charing and cleaning. The\nRev. Walker has been a good friend to me, but he says I ought to go into\nthe House. 'A man ought to support his wife and children,' he says, 'and\nI hope as they'll catch him,' he says.\"\n\n\"'Yes,' I says, but it is awful to go into the House when we haven't\ndone anything wrong, and my father an organist.'\n\n\"'Very cruel, Mrs. Blake,' he says, 'but I see no other way. I will\nwrite to the Guardians to ask if they will allow you out-relief, but I\nfear they will say you are too destitute!'\n\n\"And now, Mrs. Wells, we had better be starting. I hope if they find him\nI shall be able to pay up the back rent; the table and chairs left I\nhope you will keep towards the payment of the debt. Thank you for all\nyour kindness.\"\n\n\"All right, Mrs. Blake, don't you worry about that, my dear. Wells is in\ngood work, thank God, and I don't miss a few 'apence. I'm such a one for\nchildren, and your H'albert is a beauty, he is; I've been right glad to\ngive them a bite and sup now and again. I know children sent out with\nempty stomachs aren't in a fit state to absorb learning; it leads to\nwords and rows with the teachers and canings afore the day's over. I\ncan't abear to see people cross with children, and I'd do anything to\nsave them the cane. Well, I hope, my dear, as they'll soon nail that\nbeauty of yours, and that we shall see you back again. Perhaps I ought\nto tell you that a chap calling 'isself a sanitary inspector called this\nmorning to say as five people mustn't sleep in the top-back floor. I\ntold 'im as the room was let to a widow lady in poor circumstances, and\nwas he prepared to guarantee the rent of two rooms. That made him huffy.\nIt wasn't his business, he said, but overcrowding was agen his Council's\nrules.\"\n\nAnd the old lady held up the document upside down and then consigned it\nto the flames.\n\n\"There will be no overcrowding to night,\" said Mrs. Blake bitterly.\n\nThe children were collected and scrubbed till their faces shone with\nfriction and yellow soap, and then the little procession started to the\nworkhouse. Mr. Wells, returned from work, announced his intention of\ngiving his arm up the hill to Mrs. Blake, and the young man of the\nsecond floor volunteered his services to help carry \"H'albert,\" who was\nheavy and sleepy, and his contribution of a packet of peppermints\ncheered the journey greatly. When the cruel gates of the House closed on\nthe weeping children the two men walked home silently. Once Wells swore\nquietly but forcibly under his breath.\n\n\"You're right, mate,\" said the young man. \"This job has put me off my\ntea. I'll just turn into the 'King of Bohemia,' and drink till I forget\nthem children's sobs.\"\n\n\n_Note._--I understand that under a separation order the police have\nauthority to search for the husband without forcing the family into the\nHouse. I called at the police-station to inquire why this was not done,\nand was informed that the woman's destitution was so great that they\nfeared the children might die of starvation before the man was brought\nto book.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SUICIDE\n\n In she plunged boldly,\n No matter how coldly\n The rough river ran;\n Over the brink of it--\n Picture it--think of it,\n Dissolute man.\n\n\nShe lay in bed, in the long, clean Sick Ward--a fine-grown and\nwell-favoured young woman with masses of black hair tossed over the\nwhiteness of the ratepayers' sheets. Such a sight is rare in a workhouse\ninfirmary, where one needs the infinite compassion of Christian charity\nor the hardness of habit to bear the pitiful sights of disease and\nimbecility.\n\n\"She looks as if she ought not to be here?\" I observed interrogatively\nto the nurse.\n\n\"Attempted suicide. Brought last night by the police, wrapped in a\nblanket and plastered in mud from head to foot. Magnificent hair?--yes,\nand a magnificent job I had washing of it, and my corridor and bathroom\nlike a ploughed field. Usual thing--might have killed her?--oh, no;\nthese bad girls take a deal of killing.\"\n\nI sat down beside the bed, and heard the usual story--too common to\nexcite either interest or compassion in an official mind.\n\nShe had been a nursemaid, but had left service for the bar; and there\none of the gentlemen customers had been very kind to her and had walked\nout with her on Sundays and taken her to restaurants and the theatre.\nThen followed the usual promise of marriage and the long delay, till her\nwork had become impossible, \"and the governor had spoken his mind and\ngiven her the sack.\"\n\n\"I wrote to the gentleman, but the letter came back through the Returned\nLetter Office. He must have given me a false name, because when I called\nat the house no one had heard of him. I had no money, and had to pawn my\nclothes and the jewellery he had given me to pay for food and the rent\nof my room. I dared not go home; they are very strict Chapel people, and\nthey told me I never was to come near them after I became a barmaid.\nThen one day the gentleman wrote, giving no address, and saying that his\nwife had found out about me, and our friendship must come to an end. He\nenclosed two pounds, which was all he could afford, and asked me to\nforgive him the wrong he had done me. I seemed to go clean mad after\nthat letter. I did not know he was married, and I had kept hoping it\nwould be all right, and that he would make an honest woman of me. I\nthought I should have died in the night. I was taken with dreadful\npains, so that I could not move from my bed, and though I shouted for\nhelp no one heard till the next morning, when my landlady came to me,\nand she went for the doctor. The two pounds lasted me about a month, and\nthen I had nothing left again--nothing to eat and nothing to pawn, and\nthe rent always mounting up against me. My landlady was very kind to me,\nbut her husband had gone off with another woman and left her with three\nchildren. She was often in want herself, and I couldn't take anything\nfrom her. There seemed nothing but the pond; and after the gentleman had\nplayed it down so low the whole world looked black and inky before my\neyes. I just seemed to long for death and peace before every one knew my\ndisgrace. I came up twice to chuck myself into the pond, and twice I\nhadn't the pluck. Then last night I had been so sick and dizzy all day\nwith hunger I did not feel a bit of a coward any longer, so I waited\nabout till it was dark and then I climbed up on the railings and threw\nmyself backwards. The water was bitterly cold, and like a fool I\nhollered; then I sank again, and the water came strangling and choking\ndown my throat, and I remember nothing more till I felt something\nraising my head and a dark-lantern shining in my face. The nurse came\nabout half an hour ago to tell me that I must go before the magistrates\nto-morrow; it seems rather hard, when one cannot live, that the police\nwill not even let you die. No, I did not know that girls like me might\ncome to the workhouse. I thought it was only for the very old and the\nvery poor; perhaps if I had known that I need not have made a hole in\nthe water. But must I go with the police to the court all alone amongst\na lot of men? Oh, ma'am, I can't; I should be so shamed. And think of\nthe questions they will ask me! And I was a good girl till such a short\ntime ago. Won't one of the nurses come with me, or will you?\"\n\nIt is one thing to promise to chaperone a beautiful, forlorn young woman\nlying in bed, a type of injured youth and innocence, and another to meet\nher in the cold light of 9 a.m. arrayed in the cheap finery of her\nclass. Her flimsy skirt was shrunk and warped after its adventure in the\npond, and with the best will in the world the nurses had been unable to\nbrush away the still damp mud which stuck to the gauged flounces and the\ninterstices of the \"peek-a-boo\" blouse. A damp and shapeless mass of\npink roses and chiffon adorned the beautiful hair, which had been\ntortured and puffed into vulgarity, and to complete the scarecrow\nappearance, her own boots being quite unwearable, she had been provided\nwith a pair of felt slippers very much _en evidence_ owing to the\nshrinkage of draperies.\n\nI am afraid I longed for a telegram or sudden indisposition--anything\nfor an excuse decently to break faith. There are not even cabs near our\nworkhouse, and so, under the escort of a mighty policeman, the forlorn\nlittle procession set forth to brave the humorous glances of the\nheartless street-boys until the walls of the police-court hid us, along\nwith other human wreckage, from mocking eyes.\n\nPresently a boy of seventeen or eighteen, small and slight, in the\ndress of a clerk, came up to my companion and hoped in a very hoarse\nvoice that she had not taken cold.\n\n\"This is the gentleman,\" said the girl, \"who saved my life the other\nnight in the pond.\"\n\n\"I don't know how I managed it,\" said the boy, \"but I was passing along\nthe Heath when I heard you screaming so dreadfully that I rushed down to\nthe pond and into the water before I really knew what I was doing, for I\ncan't swim a stroke. I just managed to catch your dress before you sank,\nbut the mud was so slippery I could hardly keep my footing, and your\nweight was dragging me down into deep water. Fortunately I managed to\ncatch hold of the sunk fence, and that steadied me so that I could lift\nyour head out, and you came round. Yes, I have had a very bad cold. I\nhad to walk a long way in my wet clothes, and the night air was sharp.\nBut never mind that--what I did want to say to you is that you must buck\nup, you know, and not do this sort of thing. We are here now, and we've\ngot to make the best of it.\" And, all unconscious of the tragedy of\nwomanhood, the boy read her a simple, straightforward lesson on the duty\nof fortitude and trust in God.\n\nWhilst he talked my eye wandered round the court and the motley\ncollection of plaintiffs, defendants, and witnesses. The preponderance\nof the male sex bore witness to the law-abiding qualities of women, for,\nwith the exception of the girl and myself, the only other woman was a\nthin, grey-haired person very primly dressed.\n\n\"Yes, that is mother,\" said the girl, \"but she won't speak to me. She\nhas taken no notice of me for more than a year. I've been such a bad\nexample to the younger girls, and they're all strict Chapel folks.\"\n\n\"Lily Weston!\" cried a stentorian voice, and our \"case\" was bundled into\nthe inner court, mother and daughter walking next to each other in\nsilent hostility. The poor girl was placed in the prisoner's dock\nbetween iron bars as if she were some dangerous wild beast, whilst \"the\ngentleman\" who was the real offender ranged free and unmolested.\nConstable X 172 told the story of attempted suicide, and then the boy\nfollowed. Then the mother spoke shortly and bitterly as to the girl's\ntroubles being of her own making.\n\n\"Anything to say?\" asked the magistrate; but the girl hung her head low\nin shame and confusion, whilst the magistrate congratulated the boy on\nhis pluck and presence of mind.\n\nThe clerk came round and whispered in the ear of his chief, who looked\nat the prisoner with grave kindliness under his bushy white eyebrows; he\nhad more sympathy than the laws he administered.\n\n\"Call Miss Sperling,\" he said to the policeman, and then to the\nprisoner: \"If I discharge you now, will you go away with this lady, who\nwill find a home for you?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, sir,\" cried the prisoner with a burst of hysterical weeping\nas the bolts rattled from the dock and the kindly hand of the lady\nmissionary clasped hers.\n\nA distinguished Nonconformist once told me that our Anglican Prayer Book\nwas a mass of ungranted petitions, which, after careful thought, I had\nto admit was true; but at least on the whole I think our prayers for\nthis particular magistrate have been answered.\n\n\n\n\nPUBLICANS AND HARLOTS\n\n Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and harlots go into the\n kingdom of God before you.\n\n\nIt was 7.30 p.m., and in the Young Women's Ward of the workhouse the\ninmates were going to bed by the crimson light of the July sunset. Most\nof the women had babies, and now and then a fretful cry would interrupt\na story that was being listened to with much interest and laughter and\nloud exclamations: \"Oh, Daisy, you are a caution!\"\n\nHad a literary critic been present, he would have classed the tale as\nbelonging to the French realistic school of Zola and Maupassant. The\n_raconteuse_, Daisy Crabtree, who might have sat as a model for\nRossetti's Madonna of the Annunciation, was a slight, golden-haired\ngirl, known to philanthropists as a \"daughter of the State,\" and an\nobject-lesson against such stepmothering. Picked up as an infant under a\ncrab-tree by the police, and christened later in commemoration of the\ndiscovery, she had been brought up in a \"barrack-school,\" and a \"place\"\nfound for her at fifteen, from which she had \"run\" the following day;\nthe streets had called to their daughter, and she had obeyed. Since then\nshe had been \"rescued\" twenty-seven times--by Catholics, Anglicans,\nWesleyans, Methodists, Baptists, and Salvationists--but not even the\ngreat influence of \"Our Lady of the Snows\" or \"The Home of the Guardian\nAngels\" could save this child of vice, and most Homes in London being\nclosed against her, she perpetually sought shelter in the various\nworkhouses of the Metropolis, always being \"passed\" back to the parish\nof the patronymic crab-tree where she was \"chargeable.\" Here she resided\nat the expense of the rates, till some lady visitor, struck by her\nbeauty and seeming innocence, provided her with an outfit and a\nsituation.\n\n\"Shut up, Daisy!\" said one girl, quiet and demure as her namesake\nPriscilla. \"You're only fit for a pigsty.\"\n\n\"'The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament showeth His\nhandiwork,'\" sang Musical Meg, a half-witted girl, who had given two\nidiots to the guardianship of the ratepayers. She was possessed of a\nsoprano voice, very clear and true, and, having been brought up in a\nHigh Church Home, she punctiliously chanted the offices of _Prime_ and\n_Compline_, slightly muddling them as her memory was bad.\n\n\"Hold your noise, Meg; we want to hear the tale.\"\n\n\"'Brethren, be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary the devil as a\nroaring lion walketh about, seeking whom he may devour, whom resist,\nsteadfast in the faith,'\" chanted Musical Meg again.\n\nThe door opened and the white-capped attendant entered, leading by the\nhand two little girls of about twelve and fourteen, who were sobbing\npitifully.\n\n\"Less noise here, if you please. Meg, you know you have been forbidden\nto sing at bedtime. Now, my dears, don't cry any more; get undressed and\ninto bed at once; you'll see your mother in the morning.\"\n\n\"Why are you here, duckies? Father run away and left you all starving?\"\nasked an older woman who had been walking about the room administering\nmedicine, opening windows, and generally doing the work of wardswoman.\n\n\"Yes,\" sobbed the children; \"they've put mother in another room, and we\nare so frightened.\"\n\n\"There, stop crying, my dears,\" said Priscilla; \"come and look at my\nbaby.\"\n\n\"What a lot of babies!\" said the elder girl. \"Have all your husbands run\naway and left you?\"\n\n\"Oh, Lor'! child, don't ask questions; get into bed, quick.\" The\nchildren donned their pink flannelette nightgowns and then knelt down\nbeside their beds, making the sign of the Cross. There was deep silence,\nsome of the girls began to cry, \"Irish Biddy\" threw herself on her knees\nand recited the Rosary with sobs and gasps.\n\n\n \"Oh, wash me and I shall be whiter than snow,\n Whiter than snow, whiter than snow,\"\n\n\nsang a blear-eyed girl in a raucous, tuneless chant.\n\nMusical Meg put her fingers to her ears. \"You've got the wrong tune,\nRosie; listen, I'll hum it to you,\" but finding her attempts after\nmusical correctness were unheeded, she started herself the _Qui habitat_\nof the _Compline_ office.\n\n\"Good Lord, girls!\" came the shrill voice of Daisy Crabtree; \"what's up\nnow? It gives me the hump to hear you sniffing and sobbing over your\npsalm tunes; let's have something cheerful with a chorus: ''Allo! 'allo!\n'allo! it's a different girl again----'\"\n\n\"Oh! do be quiet, Daisy; wait until the poor little things has said\ntheir prayers,\" came the gentle voice of Priscilla.\n\n\"'Different eyes and a different nose----'\"\n\n\"Stow that, Daisy, or I'll drive those teeth you're so proud of down\nyour throat,\" said the tall wardswoman.\n\nTemperance Hunt (known to her associates as \"Tipsy Tempie,\" all\nunconscious of the classical dignity of the oxymoron) was a clear\nstarcher and ironer, so skilled in the trade that it was said she could\ncommand her own terms in West End laundries, but like many \"shirt and\ncollar hands,\" she was given to bouts of terrible drunkenness, during\nwhich she would pawn her furniture and her last rag for gin. Then she\nwould retire to the workhouse for a time, get some clothes out of the\ncharitable, sign another pledge, and come forth again, to the comfort\nand peace of many households--for the wearers of Tempie's shirts\ndressed for dinner without a murmur, and \"never said a single 'damn.'\"\n\nTipsy Tempie was a very powerful woman, and the song died on Daisy's\nlips as she came towards her, a threatening light in her eyes. \"All\nright, keep your 'air on; if I mayn't sing I'll tell you another tale.\nWhen I was in the Haymarket last Boat-race night----\"\n\n\"Now, duckies, you go and get washed; your poor faces are all swelled\nwith crying--can't go to bed like that, you know; we lidies in this ward\nare most particular.\"\n\n\"Please, teacher,\" said the elder child, \"governess downstairs said as\nwe were to go straight to bed; we had a bath yesterday directly we came\nin.\"\n\n\"Do what I tell you. A little drop of water'll stop the smarting of all\nyour tears, and you'll get to sleep quicker.\"\n\n\"Now, then, Daisy,\" she exclaimed, as the two children obediently\ndeparted, \"if you tell any more of your beastly stories before them two\ninnocent dears, I'll throttle you.\"\n\n\"Then you will be hung,\" said Daisy airily.\n\n\"Do you think I'd care? Good riddance of bad rubbish, as can't help\nmaking a beast of itself. But one thing I insists on--don't let us\ncorrupt these 'ere little girls; we're a bad lot in here; most of you\nare--well, I won't say what, for it ain't polite, and I don't 'old with\nthe pot calling the kettle black, and I know as I'm a drunkard. My\nfather took me to church hisself and had me christened 'Temperance,'\nhoping as that might counterrack the family failing; but drink is in the\nblood too deep down for the font-water to get at. Poor father! he\nstruggled hard hisself; but he kicked my blessed mother wellnigh to\ndeath, and then 'anged hisself in the morning when he found what he\ndone; so I ain't got no manner of chance, and though I take the pledge\nwhen the lidies ask me, I know it ain't no good. Well, as I said before,\nwe're a rotten lot, but not so bad that we can't respect little kiddies,\nand any one can see that these little girls aren't our sort. I ask you\nall--all you who are mothers, even though your children ain't any\nfathers in particular--to back me in this.\" (\"'Ear, 'ear!\" said\nPriscilla.) \"I ain't had the advantage some of you have; I ain't been in\ntwenty-seven religious homes like Daisy, and I don't know psalms and\nhymns like Meg; but I've got as strong a pair of fists as ever grasped\nirons, and those shall feel 'em who says a word as wouldn't be fit for\nthe lady Guardian's ears.\"\n\nThe frightened Daisy had crept meekly into bed; the two little children\ncame back, and Tempie tucked them up with motherly hands, kissing the\nlittle swollen faces; Musical Meg started a hymn.\n\nThe assistant matron came up from supper, and her brows knitted angrily\nas she heard the singing. But at the door of the ward she paused, handle\nin hand, for, from the lips of the fallen and the outcast, of the wanton\nand the drunkard, led by the strangely beautiful voice of the\nhalf-witted girl, rose the hymn of high Heaven--\n\n\n Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty!\n All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and sky, and sea;\n Holy, Holy, Holy! Merciful and Mighty;\n God in Three Persons, Blessed Trinity.\n\n\n\n\nOLD INKY\n\n There be two things that grieve my heart; and the third maketh\n me angry:\n A man of war that suffereth poverty.\n\n\nA cab stood at the door of the workhouse, and a crowd of children and\nidlers collected at once. A cab there often contained a lunatic or a\n\"d.t.\" case, or some person maimed or unconscious--generally something\nsensational. The cabman slashed his whip several times across the window\nto apprise the fares of his arrival, but there was no movement from\nwithin, and an enterprising boy, peering in through the closed windows,\nannounced gleefully: \"Why, it's old Inky and his wife, drunk as lords!\"\n\nA volunteer rang the bell, and an aged inmate at once opened the door,\nand finding that matters were beyond him, fetched a liveried officer,\nwho gazed contemptuously at the cabman and asked satirically what he had\ngot there.\n\n\"I have just driven back the Dook and Duchess of Hinkerman to the quiet\nof their suburban residence after the h'arduous festivities of the\nseason. Her Grace was a little overcome by the 'eat at the crowded\nreception of the King of Bohemia, and was compelled to withdraw. I sent\nthe footman round to the town 'ouse to say as their Graces would not\ndine at 'ome this evening, so I must ask you kindly to assist her Grace\nto alight.\"\n\nThe crowd roared loudly at this sally, and the porter, opening the cab\ndoor, drew out an aged and infirm man, whom he dragged off roughly\nthrough the whitewashed lobby. Then he returned for the wife, a shrunken\nlittle body in a state of stupefaction, whom he flung over his shoulder\nlike a baby, and then the hall door shut with a bang.\n\nThe cabman looked rather crestfallen, and requested that the bell might\nbe rung again, and again the aged inmate blinked forth helplessly.\n\n\"I am waiting,\" said the cabman, \"for a little gratuity from his Grace;\nhis own brougham not being in sight, I volunteered my services.\"\n\nThe liveried officer again appeared, and a heated altercation ensued, in\nthe midst of which the Master of the workhouse arrived and endeavoured\nto cut short the dispute, observing that his workhouse not being Poplar,\nhe had no power to pay cab fares for drunken paupers out of the rates.\nThe cabman gulped, and, dropping his Society manner, appealed to the\nMaster as man to man, asking what there was about his appearance that\ncaused him to be taken for \"such a ---- fool as to have driven a ----\npair of ---- paupers to a ---- workhouse unless he had seen the colour\nof a florin a kind-'earted lady had put into the old man's hand afore\nthe perlice ran them both in.\"\n\nHe appealed to the public to decide \"whether he looked a greater fool\nthan he was, or whether they took him for a greater fool than he\nlooked.\" In either case, he \"scorned the himputation,\" and if the Master\nthought cabmen were so easy to be had he (the Master) had better\nwithdraw to a wing of his own work'us, where, he understood, a ward was\nset apart for the \"h'observation of h'alleged lunatics.\"\n\nThe crowd roared approval, and orders were sent that the old couple\nshould be searched, and after a breathless ten minutes, spent by the\ncabman with his pink newspaper, a florin was brought out by the aged\ninmate, reported to have been found in the heel of the old lady's\nstocking. The crowd roared and cheered, and the cabman drove off\ntriumphant, master of the situation.\n\nI found old \"Inky\" a few days later sitting in a corner, surly and\nsullen and pipeless, having been cut off tobacco and leave of absence\nfor four weeks. I suppose discipline must be maintained, but there is\nsomething profoundly pathetic in the sight of hoary-headed men and\nwomen, who have borne life's heavy load for seventy and eighty years,\ncut off their little comforts and punished like school-children.\n\nHe stood up and saluted at my approach; his manners to what he called\n\"his betters\" were always irreproachable. I brought him a message from a\nteetotal friend urging him to take the pledge, but he sniffed\ncontemptuously; like many a hard drinker, he never would admit the\noffence.\n\n\"I warn't drunk, not I; never been drunk in my life. 'Cos why? I've got\na strong 'ed; can take my liquor like a man. Small wonder, though,\nma'am, if we old soldiers do get drunk now and then. Our friends are\ngood to us and stand us a drop; and we need it now and then when we get\nlow-spirited, and this work'us and them clothes\"--and he glanced\ncontemptuously at his fustians--\"do take the pluck out of a man. We\nain't got nothing to live for and nothing to be proud on; and it takes\nour self-respeck--that's what it does--the self-respeck oozes out of our\nfinger-tips. Old Blowy, at St. Pancras Work'us, 'e says just the same.\nDon't you know Old Blowy, ma'am--'im as had the good luck to ride at\nBalaclava? I'm told some gentleman's got 'im out of there and boards 'im\nout independent for the rest of his life. Can't you get me out, ma'am? I\nain't done nothin' wrong, and 'ere I am in prison. If it weren't for the\nmissis I'd starve outside. I can play a little mouth-organ and pick up a\nfew pence, and my pals at the 'King of Bohemia' are very good to me. I\ncan rough it, but my missis can't--females are different--and so we was\ndruv in 'ere. The Guardians wouldn't give me the little bit of\nout-relief I asked for--four shillings would have done us nicely. They\nlistened to some foolish women's cackle--teetotal cant, I call it--and\nrefused me anything. 'Offered the 'Ouse,' as they say; and, though me\nand the missis half-clemmed afore we accepted the kind invitation, a\nman can't see 'is wife starve; and so 'ere we are--paupers. Yes, I\nfought for the Queen\"--and he saluted--\"Gawd bless 'er! all through the\nCrimean War; got shot in the arm at Inkermann and half-frozen before\nSebastopol, and I didn't think as I should come to the work'us in my old\nage; but one never knows. The world ain't been right to us old soldiers\nsince the Queen went. I can't get used to a King nohow, and it's no good\npretending; and Old Blowy at St. Pancras says just the same. I suppose\nwe're too old. I can't think why the Almighty leaves us all a-mouldering\nin the work'uses when she's gone. However, I'm a-going out; I shall take\nmy discharge, if it's only to spite 'im and show my independent spirit,\"\nand he shook an impotent fist at the Master, who passed through the\nhall. \"It's warm weather now, and we can sleep about on the 'eath a bit.\nWe shan't want much to eat--we're too old.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nA week or so later I heard of the death of old \"Inky.\" He had been found\nin a half-dying condition on one of the benches on the heath, and had\nbeen brought by the police into the infirmary, where he passed away\nwithout recovering consciousness. As we \"rattled his bones over the\nstones\" to his pauper grave I said a sincere _Laus Deo_ that another man\nof war had been delivered from poverty and the hated workhouse.\n\n\n\n\nA DAUGHTER OF THE STATE\n\n Quis est , qui non fleret?\n\n\n\"No, ma'am, I've never had no misfortune; I'm a respectable girl, I am.\nWhy am I in the workhouse, then? Well, you see, it was like this: I had\na very wicked temper, and I can't control it somehow when the mistresses\nare aggravating, and I runned from my place. I always do run away. No,\nthere was nothing agen the last mistress--it was just my nasty temper.\nThen I got wandering about the streets, and a policeman spoke to me and\ntook me to a kind lady, and she put me here to prove me, and left me to\nlearn my lesson. She takes great interest in my case. Yes, Matron says\nit is a disgrace for a strong girl to be on the rates, but what am I to\ndo? I ain't got no clothes and no character, so I suppose I shall always\nbe here now. No, it ain't nice; we never go out nor see\nnothing--leastways, the young women don't. There's no sweet puddings and\nno jam. Some of the girls say jail's far better. Yes, I am an orphan--at\nleast, father died when I was very little, and the Board gentlemen put\nme and my brothers into the schools. No, I never heard any more of\nthem. Mother came to see me at first, but she ain't been nor wrote for\nfive years; perhaps she is dead or married again. No, I don't know how\nold I am; Matron says she expects about eighteen. Oh, yes, I have been\nin places. The Board ladies got me my first place at a butcher's, only\nhe was always coming after me trying to kiss me, and the missis did not\nseem to like it somehow and she cut up nasty to me, and there was words\nand I went off in a temper. No gentleman! I should think not. A damned\nlow scoundrel I call him. I beg your pardon, ma'am, I know 'damned'\nisn't a word for ladies. I ain't an ignorant girl, but there's worse\nsaid in the Young Women's Room sometimes. Then after that the Salvation\nArmy took me in and found me a place in a boarding-house. Heaps to do I\nhad, and such a lot of glasses and plates and things for every meal. I\nalways got muddled laying the table, and the missis had an awful nasty\ntemper, quite as bad as mine, and one day she blew me up cruel, and I\nran away. Then this time some nuns took me to their Home, and there I\nmade a great mistake; I thought it was a Church of England Home, but\nthey was Cartholics. Oh, yes, the nuns were very kind to me--real good\nladies--but the lady who takes an interest in my case said as I had made\na great mistake; I don't know why except that I always was a Church of\nEngland girl. No, ma'am, I hope I may never make a worse mistake--for\nthey was good, and they sang beautiful in the chapel. Then the nuns\nfound a place for me with two old homespun people; they was very dull\nand often ill, and I was always getting muddled over the spoons and\nforks, an that made them _urri_table, and one day I felt so low-spirited\nand nasty-tempered that I ran away again. The worst of places for me is,\nno porters sit at the front doors and I run away before I think, and\nthen I get no character. But this time I have been proved, and I have\nlearnt my lesson. I won't do it any more. No, ma'am, I never knew I\ncould be taken to the police-courts just for running away--none of the\nladies never told me; I thought you were only copped for murders and\nstealing. Daisy White--she pinched her missis's silk petticoat to go out\nin on Sunday, and now she's out of jail no one won't have her any more.\nBut it's mostly misfortunes that brings girls here, and fits of course.\nBlanche, that big girl with the squint eye, went off in a fit yesterday\nas we were scrubbing the wards. No, I don't have no fits, and I'm honest\nas the day. Would I be a good girl and not run away if you get me a\nplace? Oh, ma'am, only try me. The kind ladies quote textesses to me,\nbut they never get me a job. No, I don't mind missing my dinner. Matron\nwill keep it hot for me, but it's only suet pudding to-day with very\nlittle sugar. In situations they give you beautiful sweet puddings\nnearly every day, and Juliet Brown--she that's in with her third\nmisfortune--she says she's lived with lords and ladies near the King's\nPalace at Buckingham--at least, she pretends she has--well, she says in\nher places the servants had jam with their tea every day.\n\n\"No, I haven't got no clothes but these workhouse things, but Matron\nkeeps a hat and jacket to lend to girls who ain't got none. Oh! it is\nbeautiful to see the sun shining, and the shops, and the horses, and the\nladies walking about, and the dear little children. I love children.\nOften when the Labour Mistress wasn't about I ran up to the nursery to\nkiss the babies. Juliet's third misfortune is a lovely boy with curls. I\nhaven't been out of doors for three months--the young women mayn't go\nout in the workhouse, only the old people--so you can guess I like it:\nbut the air makes me hungry. We had our gruel at seven this morning. We\ndon't have no tea for breakfast, but girls do in situations, I know, and\nas much sugar as they like--at least, in most places. Thank you, ma'am,\nI should love a bun. I love cakes. Yes; I have a cold in my head, and I\nain't got no pocket-handkerchief. I've lost it, and it wasn't very\ngrand. An old bit of rag I call it. It would be so kind of you to buy me\none, ma'am. I know it looks bad to go to see ladies without one. I ain't\nan ignorant girl; the kind lady who takes an interest in my case always\nsaid so. Isn't that barrel-organ playing beautiful! It makes me want to\ndance, only I don't know how. Daisy White--she that pinched the silk\npetticoat--can dance beautiful; some of us sing tunes in the Young\nWomen's Room, and she'd dance. I love music--that's why I liked the\nCartholic Home best; the nuns sang lovely in the chapel.\n\n\"Is this the house? Ain't it lovely! I never saw such a beautiful\ndroring-room in all my life. Just look at the carpet and the flowers and\nthe pictures! Ain't that a beautiful one, ma'am, with the trees and the\nwater running down the rocks, and the old castle at the back! The nuns\nat the Cartholic Home once took us an excursion by train to a place just\nlike that, and whilst we were having our tea the old castle turned\nsudden all yellow in the sun--just like Jerusalem the Golden.\n\n\"Do you think the lady will have me, ma'am? I shan't never want to run\naway here. I will be a good girl, ma'am; I promise I will be good.\"\n\n\n\n\nIN THE PHTHISIS WARD\n\n Why, O my God, hast Thou forsaken Me?\n Not so My mother; for behold and see,\n She steadfast stands! O Father, shall it be\n That she abides when Thou forsakest Me?\n\n\nThree days of frost had brought the customary London fog--dense, yellow,\nand choking. Londoners groped their way about with set, patient faces,\nbreaking out, however, into wild jubilation in the bowels of the earth,\nwhere the comparative purity and brightness of the atmosphere of the\nTube railway seemed to rush to their heads like cheap champagne.\n\nIn the Open-air Ward of the workhouse infirmary the sufferers coughed\nand choked away their last strength in the poisonous atmosphere; the\ncold was very great, but the fever in their veins kept the patients\nwarm, though the nurses went about blue and shivering, and on the side\nof the ward open to the elements the snow had drifted in, melted, and\nfrozen again, making a perilous slide for the unwary. The sky was black\nas at midnight, but according to the clock the long night had ended, the\nlong day had begun, the patients were washed, the breakfast was served,\nand a few, who were well enough, got up, dressed themselves, and\noccupied themselves with a book or paper. One man worked furiously at\nrug-making, his knotted fingers dragging the hanks of wool through the\ncanvas as if his life depended on speed. By the side of the ward open to\nthe fog lay a young man so wasted and shrunken that he looked almost\nlike a child. When the nurse brought him his breakfast he raised his\nhead eagerly: \"Has mother come?\"\n\n\"Why, Teddy, you're dreaming! Your mother has only just gone; it's\nmorning, my dear, and she had to get back to the factory; but she'll be\nhere again this evening, never fear. You have a mother in ten thousand,\nlucky boy! Now get your breakfast.\"\n\nTeddy's head fell back again in apathetic indifference, and he listened\nforlornly to a dispute between two men who had been playing dominoes.\nOne had accused the other of cheating, and an angry wrangle had arisen,\ntill at length the nurse had stepped in and stopped the game.\n\nLater on the same men began to dispute about horse-racing, and the\nworld-renowned names of Ladas and Persimmon and Minoru, etc., figured\nlargely.\n\n\"I tell you Persimmon was the King's 'oss, and he won the Derby in 1898.\nI know I'm right, because it was the year I got the Scripture Prize at\nNetherwood Street.\"\n\n\"No, that warn't till 1900, and I'll tell you why--\"\n\n\"I tell you it war!\"\n\n\"I tell you it warn't!\"\n\nAgain the nurse intervened, and tried to distract the disputants with a\ncopy of a newspaper, but the warfare was renewed after her back was\nturned, to the amusement or irritation of the sufferers.\n\nIn the farther corner of the ward a man in delirium raved and\nblasphemed, occasionally giving rapid character-sketches of some\nwoman--not complimentary either to her taste or morals; then he would\nrelapse into semi-unconsciousness and wake with a loud, agonized cry for\nhis mother.\n\nIn the afternoon a visitor came to see Teddy Wilson. Teddy had sung in\nthe choir and his vicar called often to visit him. Teddy had been a\nprize-scholar of the L.C.C. schools; from scholarship to scholarship he\nhad passed to a lawyer's office in the City; and then one day he had\nbegun to cough and to shiver, and the hospital to which he had been\ntaken had seen that phthisis was galloping him to the grave. They did\nnot keep incurable cases, and Teddy had been passed on to die in the\nworkhouse infirmary. When Teddy found himself a pauper he had raged\nfuriously and futilely, and the gallop to the grave went at double pace.\nHe lifted his head eagerly when the nurse brought the clergyman to his\nbedside. \"Has mother come?\" he asked, and then fell back apathetically.\nYes, he was getting better; it was only the remains of pleurisy. Would\nhe like prayers read? Oh, yes, he didn't mind. Teddy was always docile.\n\nScreens were fetched, and the clergyman knelt down by his bedside. The\ntwo men noisily resumed their quarrel about horse-racing in order to\nshow their contempt for the Church, till the nurse stuck thermometers\ninto their mouths to secure some silence.\n\nThe man in delirium raved on, cursing in picturesque variety the woman\nof his love and hate. All around the sick and dying coughed and choked\nin their agonized struggle for breath.\n\n\"Consider his contrition, accept his tears, assuage his pain.... We\nhumbly commend the soul of this Thy servant, our dear brother, into Thy\nhands.... Wash it, we pray Thee, in the blood of the immaculate Lamb ...\nthat whatsoever defilements it may have contracted in the midst of this\nmiserable and naughty world ... it may be presented pure and without\nspot before Thee.\"\n\nAs the vicar read on silence fell upon the ward; the question of\nPersimmon was dropped, and even the delirious man ceased to blaspheme\nand lay quiet for a time. It seemed to the young priest as if the peace\nof God for which he had prayed had fallen upon this place of pain and\nterror.\n\nBefore he went he stopped for a word or a hand-shake with the patients,\nand settled the vexed question of Persimmon's victory.\n\n\"Fancy his knowing that!\" said the first disputant. \"Not so bad for a\ndevil-dodger.\"\n\n\"They aren't all quite fools. There was a bloke down at Bethnal Green, a\nreal good cricketer and sportsman; they've made him a bishop now, and\nas I allus says, there's bigger liars knocking about London than that\nthere bishop.\"\n\nAfter tea visitors began to arrive; most of the patients in the Open-air\nWard were on the danger list and could see their friends at any time,\nand now at the close of the day fathers and mothers and wives and\nsweethearts were coming straight from factory and workshop to comfort\ntheir sick. Teddy Wilson, propped up with pillows, watched the door, and\npresently, when a frail little woman entered, the faces of both mother\nand son lit up with the light of joy and love ineffable.\n\n\"At last!\" said Teddy. \"Oh, mother, you have been long!\"\n\n\"I came straight from the factory, dear. I did not even wait for a cup\nof tea or to get washed. Here are some grapes for you.\"\n\nThe grapes were best hot-house--the poor always give recklessly--and\nMrs. Wilson and a bright-eyed little girl who was sweeping up\nscholarships and qualifying as a typist and _tisica_ would go short of\nfood for a week.\n\nTen years ago Mr. Wilson had grown weary of monogamy and had\ndisappeared. His wife, scorning charity and the parish, had starved and\nfought her own way. Latterly she had found employment at the tooth\nfactory, but food was not abundant on a weekly wage varying from seven\nto fifteen shillings, and the L.C.C. had worked the brains of the\ngrowing children on a diet chiefly of dry bread and tea.\n\nThrough the long night she sat by her son--the long night of agony and\nsuffering which she was powerless to relieve--and the nurse, who was\nreputed a hard woman, looked at her with tearful eyes, and muttered to\nherself: \"Thank God, I never bore a child!\"\n\nIn the early hours of morning Teddy began to sing, in strange, raucous\nfashion, fragments of oratorios. \"'My God, my God,'\" sang Teddy in the\nrecitative of Bach's Passion music, \"'why hast Thou forsaken Me?' Oh,\nmother, don't leave me!\"\n\nThe next time the nurse came round Teddy lay quiet, and his mother\nlooked up with eyes tearless and distraught. \"He has stopped coughing,\"\nshe said; \"I think I am glad.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN IRISH CATHOLIC\n\n Godliness is great riches if a man be content with that which he\n hath.\n\n\n\"God bless all the kind ratepayers for my good dinner and a good cup o'\ntay to wash it down with, and a nice bit of fire this cold day. You\npaupers never give thanks unto the Lord, a nasty Protestant lot without\na ha'porth of manners between you, a-cursing and swearing, and\nblaspheming; they have not the grace of God. Say 'Good afternoon' to the\nlady, Betsy Brown, and don't be so rude; they never do have a word of\nthanks to the kind ladies and gentlemen who come a-visiting them, and we\ndon't get many visitors just now; all the dear ladies are away\na-paddling in the ocean. The gentleman Guardians come sometimes, but\nthey are not so chatty as the ladies, don't seem to know what to say to\nus old women. You don't happen to have a bit of snuff about you, my\nlady?--excuse me asking you, but some of the ladies carries a bit for\nme. I ain't allowed my pipe in here, and I misses it cruel; at first I\nhad gripes a-seizing my vitals through missing the comfort of a bit of\n'baccy, and the doctor he seemed much gratified with the symtims of my\nsufferings, and says I was attacked by the pensis, I think he termed\nit, the royal disease of the King, and he was all for cutting me up at\nonce. But I up and says, 'Young man, don't talk to your elders. It's\nnothing but my poor hinnards a-craving for a pipe and a drop o' Irish,\nand you'll kindly keep your knives and hatchets off me. The King can be\ncut up if he likes, but I'll go before my Judge on the Resurrection\nmorning with my poor old body undisfigured by gaping holes and wounds!'\nYes, I frets cruel in the work'us, lady. If I could only get away back\nto Kensington, where I belong, I'd be all right. I have no friends\nhere--only you and the Almighty God. I'm a poor old blind Irishwoman,\nlady; and my sons is out in Ameriky and seems to have forgotten the\nmother that bore them, and my husband's been dead these forty years, and\nhe was not exakly one to thank God for on bare knees--God rest his poor\nblack sowl! Yes, I've been blind now these thirty years (I was ninety on\nthe Feast of the Blessed Lady of Mount Carmel), and one day in the\nwinter we'd just been saying Mass for the sowl of the Cardinal Newman,\nand when I got back home I put up a bit of gunpowder to clane the\nchimbly, which smoked cruel (I always was a decent, clane body) and the\nwicked stuff turned round on me very vindictious, and blew down into the\nroom, burning red-hot into my poor, innocent eyes. They cut one out at\nSt. Bartholomew's 'Orspital, and they hoped to save the other, but it\ntook to weeping itself away voluntarious, and a-throbbing like\nsteam-engines, and the young chaps fetched it out a few weeks later.\nBut I'm a very happy blind woman. Yes, lady, it was dreadful at first,\nand I'll not deny that the cross seemed too heavy for my poor back--as\nif God Himself had forsaken me--great, black, thundering darkness all\nround as I couldn't cut a peep-show in nohow. All night I'd be a raging\nand a-fighting to get one little ray of light, and then I'd howl and\nshriek to the Blessed Virgin and all the saints, and then I'd curse and\nblaspheme and call to all the devils in hell; but no one heard, and the\ndarkness continued dark. But, glory be to the saints! it's astonishing\nhow used you get to things. At the end of a couple of months you seems\nto forget as there was ever anything else but darkness around, and by\nthe grace of God and the favour of the angels I gets about most\nnimblous. No, I don't belong to this parish at all; that's why I hopes\none day to get sixpence and get back to Kensington. But, you see, lady,\nit was like this--I came up to call on my poor sister at the top of the\nhill, and when I got there they told me she was dead and buried (God\nrest her sowl!), and the shock was so great I fell down overcome, as you\nmay say, by emotion, and a kind gentleman picked me up and brought me in\nhere, and there I lay stretched out on a bed of pain with a great bruise\nall down my poor side, and my poor hinnards a-struggling amongst\ntheirselves for a bit of comfort, which they've never got since I've\nbeen here, and the young chap of a doctor a-talking in long and\nindecent words to the nusses. (I hear you inmates a-smiling again!) But\nI was not in liquor lady--s'help me it's God's truth! (May your lips\nstiffen for ever, sitting there a-grinning and a-mocking at God's\ntruth!) I've allus been a sober woman, and I've always conducted myself.\n(God blast you all, and your children and children's children!) Yes, my\nlady, I know it's not a prison and I can take my discharge; but, you\nsee, I don't know the way to the 'bus as'll take me to Kensington, and I\nain't got sixpence--a most distressful and unpleasant circumstance not\nto have sixpence. May the Holy Mother preserve you in wealth and\nprosperity so that you may never know! If I had sixpence of my own do\nyou think I'd stay in this wicked Bastille, ordered about by the ladies\nof the bar? I calls them ladies of the bar, not as they ever give you a\ndrop to cheer you, but because as they is puffed up with vanity and\nthree-ha'porth of starched linen. Yes, my lady, I know as they calls\ntheirselves nusses, but when you're ninety you won't like to be ordered\nabout by a parcel of girls. Oh, my lady, if you would only put me in the\n'bus that goes to Kensington and give me a sixpence here in my poor old\nhand, then may the Blessed Mother keep you for ever, you and your good\nchildren, and may the crown of glory that is waiting for you before the\nGreat White Throne be studded with di'monds and rubies brighter than the\nstars! How could I get on? I'd be all right if I only got to Kensington;\nthere's the praists!--God love 'em!--they knows me and helps me, and\nkind ladies who give me the tickets for meat and groceries; and there's\nthe landlord of the 'Fish and Quart'--he'll be near you, lady, before\nthe Great White Throne--and on wet days, when the quality don't come\nout, I go round to him and there's always a bite and a sup for old\nBridget. I hear you paupers smiling again, but believe me, lady, it is\nthe black wickedness of their iniquitous hearts. Ask the perlice,\nlady--God bless the bhoys for leading the old pauper over many a\ntumultuous street!--they will tell you my excellent character for\ntemperance and sobriety and cleanliness. They give me a paper from\nScotland Yard, which lets me walk in the High Street. I sells nothing\nand I asks nothing, but I just stands, and the ladies and gentlemen\nrains pennies in my hand thick as hail in May-time. And do I get enough\nto live on? I should think I did, and enough to fill the belly of\nanother woman who clanes my room and cooks my food and leads me about.\nNo, I shan't get run over by no motor-car. The Lord may have taken the\nsight of my eyes, but He has left me an uncommon sharp pair of ears and\na nose like a ferret, and by this special mercy I can hear the things\nstinking and rampaging long afore they're near me. You needn't be afeard\nfor me, lady--old Bridget can take care of herself, being always a sober\nand temperate woman. Any one who tells you different in this wicked\nBastille is a liar and a slanderer, a child of the Devil and Satan, who\nshall have their portion in hell-fire. Matron says I've no clothes,\ndoes she?--and after the beautiful dress as I came up to see my poor\nsister with? Yes, I know as I must have a decent gown on in a\nfashionable neighbourhood. I like to be in the fashion, even if I am\nblind; but you'll find me an old one of yours, lady, and I shall look so\nbeautiful in it the bhoys will be all for eloping with me as I stand.\n\n\"Most peculiar joyful feeling there is about a sixpence if you've not\nfelt one these fower months. The other night I'd been worriting my poor\nold head shocking all day how to get sixpence in this den of paupers,\nand when I fell asleep I had a vision of our Blessed Lady a-smiling most\ngracious like and a-stretching out a silver sixpence bright as the glory\nround her most blessed head. I cried cruel when I woke, sixpence seemed\nso far off; but now, thanks be to God and to all His howly angels, my\ndream is true!\"\n\n\n\n\nAN OBSCURE CONVERSATIONIST\n\n Out of the night that covers me,\n Black as the Pit from pole to pole,\n I thank whatever gods may be\n For my unconquerable soul.\n\n * * * * *\n\n It matters not how strait the gate,\n How charged with punishments the scroll,\n I am the master of my fate;\n I am the captain of my soul.\n\n\n\"Aye, lass, but you ain't been to see me for a long time, and me been\nthat queer and quite a fixture in bed all along of catching cold at that\nfuneral. Been abroad, have you? Oh, well, you're welcome, for I've been\na bit upset about not seeing you and because of a dream I 'ad. I dreamt\nI was up in 'eaven all along of the Great White Throne and the golden\ngates, with 'oly angels all around a-singing most vigorous. Mrs. Curtis\nwas there, and my blessed mother and my niece Nellie and the Reverent\nWalker--you know the Reverent Walker, ma'am, 'im as I sits under?--yes,\nI like little Walker, what there is of him to like, for I wish he was\nbigger; but he was all right in my dream, larger than life, with a crown\non 'im; but I missed some of you, and I says to myself: 'Mrs. Nevinson\nain't 'ere,' so I'm glad, lass, as you're safe like.\n\n\"Yes, I've been that queer I couldn't know myself, and though I'm better\nI'm that bone-lazy I can't move, but I'll be all right again soon and\nI'll get those petticoats of yourn finished which I am ashamed of having\ncluttering about still. I've 'ad what's called brownchitis. Mrs. Curtis\nfetched the doctor when I was took bad, and they built me up a sort of\ntent with a sheet, and a kettle a-spitting steam at me through a roll of\nbrown paper they fixed on the spout, and I 'alf-killed myself with\nlaughing at such goings-on. I was that hot and smothered I had to get up\nin the middle of the night and get to the open window to take a breath\nof fog, for you can't call it air; I felt just like a boiled lobster. I\nain't had nothing to do with doctors before and I don't understand their\nways. This young chap 'e got 'old on a piece of wood and planked it down\non my chest with 'is ear clapped to the other end. 'Say ninety-nine,' 'e\nsays as grave as a judge. 'Sir,' I says, 'I'm not an imbecile, and not\nhaving much breath to spare I'll keep it to talk sense.'\n\n\"He burst hisself with laughing, and then 'e catches 'old on my 'and as\nmen do when they go a-courting. 'Sir,' I says, 'a fine young chap like\nyou 'ad better 'ang on with some young wench.'\n\n\"He guffawed again fit to split 'isself. 'It's a treat to come and see\nyou,' 'e says, 'but you're really ill this time, you know, and you ought\nto go into the infirmary and get properly nursed up.' 'Never,' I says,\n'never!' and 'e went away cowed like.\n\n\"No, lass, I ain't a-going to no work'us with poor critturs a-gasping\nand a-groaning all round. I've kept myself to myself free and\nindependent all my life, and free and independent I'll die. Little\nWalker catched it 'ot the other day sending a sort of visiting lady\n'ere--the Organization lady she calls 'erself, so Mrs. Curtis said.\nWell, she asked so many questions and wanted to know why I had not had\nthrift, as she called it, that I turned on 'er and I says: 'I think\nyou've made a little mistake in the number. I ain't got no 'idden crime\non my conscience, but I'm a lady of independent means, and must ask for\nthe peace and quiet which is due to wealth.'\n\n\"I was that angry with the Reverend Walker!--did it for the best, he\nsaid, thought as I might have got a little 'elp from the Organization if\nI hadn't been so rude. The very idea! I 'ate help. I've hung by mine own\n'ed like every proper herring and human ought to, and when I can't 'ang\nno longer I'll drop quiet and decent into my grave.\n\n\"No, I never got married--what I saw of men in service did not exactly\nset me coveting my neighbours' husbands, a set of big babies as must\nhave the moon if they want it--to say nothing of the wine, and the\nwomen, and the trotting horses, and the betting on them silly cards.\nBesides, to tell the truth, lass, no man of decent stature ever asked me\nto wed; being a big woman, all the little scrubs came a-following me,\nbut I would not go with any of them, always liking Grenadier Guards, six\nfoot at least. Perhaps it was as well; I should never have had patience\nto put up with a man about the place, being so masterful myself;\nbesides, ain't I been sort of father and 'usband to my sister Cordelia?\nMother died when Cordelia was born, and she says to me: 'Ruth, take care\nof this 'elpless babby,' and, God help me! I done my best, though the\npoor girl made a poor bargain with life, 'er husband getting queerer and\nmore cantankerous, wandering the country up and down as fast as they\nbrought 'im 'ome and having to be shut up in Colney Hatch at the end. I\nwas not going to satisfy that Organization lady's curiosity and boast\nhow I helped to bring up that family, and a deal of 'thrift' that lady\nwould have managed on the two shillings a week I kept of my wages, the\nmissus often passing the remark that, considering the good money she\npaid, she liked her servants better dressed. Cordelia was left with\nthree little ones, and I couldn't abide the thought of 'er coming to the\nparish and having them nice little kids took from 'er and brought up in\nthem work'us schools, so I agreed to give 'er eight shillings week out\nof my wages, and that with the twelve shillings she got cooking at the\n'Pig and Whistle' kept the 'ome together. Poor lass! she's had no luck\nwith her boys either, poor Tim going off weak in his head and having to\nbe put away, and Jonathan killed straight off at Elandslaagter with a\nbullet through his brain. Yes, there's Ambrose--no, I don't ask Ambrose\nto help me; 'e's got his mother to 'elp and a heavy family besides. No,\nI don't take food out of the stomachs of little children, a-stunting of\ntheir growth, as nothing can be done for them later, and a-starving of\ntheir brains--I pulls my belt a bit tighter, thank you. Yes, I know what\nI am talking about--didn't I spend nearly every Sunday afternoon for\nnigh on twenty years at Colney Hatch? Well, the will of the Lord be\ndone--but why if He be Almighty He lets folks be mad when He might\nstrike 'em dead has always puzzled and tried my faith.\n\n\"Yes, I lives on my five-shilling pension and what my last master left\nme; half a crown rent doesn't leave me much for food. I allus had a good\nappetite, I'm sorry to say, and I often dream of grilled steaks--not\nsince the brownchitis, though; I'm all for lemons and fizzy drinks. The\nfolks 'ere are very kind and often bring me some of their dinner, but\nLord! they are poor cooks, and if their 'usbands drink I for one ain't\nsurprised. I can grill a steak with any one, and I attribute my\nindependent income to my steaks; at my last place the master thought the\nworld of them, and when there was rumpuses in the kitchen I used to hear\n'im say: 'Sack the whole blooming lot, but remember Brooks stays,' and\nstay I did till the old gentleman died and remembered his steaks in his\nwill.\n\n\"Well, I was going to tell you how I caught this cold, only you will\nkeep on interrupting of me. I saw as how there was going to be a funeral\nat St. Paul's, and I thought I'd go. I allus was one for looking at men,\nand having been kitchen-maid at York Palace, I took on a taste for\ncathedrals and stained windows and music and such-like, as a sort of\nrespite from the troubles and trials of life.\n\n\"It was just beautiful to hear the organ play and to see the gold cross\ncarried in front of the dear little chorister-boys, and I says to\nmyself: 'Their mas are proud of them this day.' Then came the young\nchaps who sing tenor and bass--fine upstanding young men--and then the\ncurates with their holy faces, but at the end were the bishops and deans\nand such-like, and they were that h'old and h'ugly I was quite ashamed.\n\n\"Well, I thought I'd treat myself to a motor-bus after my long walk. The\nyoung chap says: 'Don't go up top, mother, you'll catch cold.' 'Thank\nyou kindly,' I says, 'but I ain't a 'ot-house plant, being born on the\nmoors,' and up I went, but Lor'! I hadn't reckoned how the wind cut\ngoing the galloping pace we went; it petrified to the negrigi, as poor\nmother used to say--no, I don't know where the negrigi is--but take off\nyour fur-coat top of a motor-bus in a vehement east wind and perhaps\nyou'll feel.\n\n\"Yes, that's little Walker's bell a-going--it ain't a wedding and it\nain't a funeral; it's a kind of prayers that he says, chiefly to\n'isself, at five o'clock--'e's 'Igh Church.\n\n\"Must you be going? Well, come again soon; being country yourself, you\nunderstands fresh air as folk brought up among chimbleys can't be\nexpected to--but don't worry me about no infirmaries, for I ain't\na-going, so there!\n\n\"Mrs. Curtis has her orders, and when I'm took worse she's to put me in\nthe long train that whistles and goes to York--yes, I've saved up the\nrailway fare, and from there I can get 'ome and die comfortable on the\nmoor with plenty of air and the peace of God all around.\"\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe landlady came to open the door for me as I went down the\nwell-scrubbed staircase. \"Yes, ma'am, Miss Brooks is better, but she's\nvery frail; the doctor thinks as she can't last much longer, but her\nconversation continues as good as ever. My old man or one of my sons\ngoes up to sit with her every evening; she's such good company she saves\nthem the money for the 'alls, and makes them laugh as much as Little\nTich. We'll take care of her, ma'am; the Reverent Walker told me to get\nwhatever she wanted, and 'e'd pay, and all the folks are real fond of\nher in the house, she's that quick with her tongue.\n\n\"No, ma'am, she'll never get to York, she's too weak, but the doctor\ntold me to humour her.\"\n\n\n\n\nMOTHERS\n\n For the hurt of the daughter of my people am I hurt; ...\n astonishment hath taken hold on me. Is there no balm in Gilead; is\n there no physician there? why then is not the health of the\n daughter of my people recovered?\n\n\nEvery first Monday of the month a trainload of shabby, half-starved\nwomen moves southwards from London to one of our great Poor Law schools;\nand perhaps in the whole world, spite of poverty, hunger, and rags,\nthere is no more joyous band. For two blessed hours they meet their\nchildren again, and though later they return weary, hungry, and\nheart-sore, nothing is allowed to mar the joy of the present, for the\npoor are great philosophers, and hold in practice as well as in theory\nthat \"an ounce of pleasure is worth a peck of pain.\"\n\nHumour exudes from every pore; triumphs are related on all\nsides--triumphs over civil authorities, triumphs over Boards of\nGuardians, triumphs over \"Organization ladies\" and \"cruelty men\"; and\nmethods are discussed as to the best way of triumphing over the school\nauthorities and conveying sweets and cakes to the children.\n\n\"Yes, 'e kept 'is word and had me up, but I said as I was a widder, and\nhad to keep the girl at 'ome to mind the sick children, and the beak\ndismissed the summons, and I came out and danced a jig under 'is nose.\n'Done you again, old chap,' I says, and 'e looked fit to eat me.\n\n\"'E's a good sort, our chairman, with a terrible soft spot in his heart\nfor widows. We allus says you have only got to put on a widow's crape\nand you can get what you like out of him; so Mrs. James upstairs--she's\nbeen a milliner, you know--she rigged me out with a little bonnet, and a\nlong crape fall, and a white muslin collar, and she pulled my 'air out\nloose round my ears, and gave me a 'andkerchief with an inch border of\nblack, and she says, 'There, Mrs. Evans, there ain't a bloke on the\nBoard as won't say you are a deserving case,' and sure enough they went\nand did just as I told them as good as gold. If I'd my time over again\nI'd come into the world a widder born.\"\n\n\"Just what I says. When Spriggs was alive we were half-clemmed, but\nnothing could we get from the parish, 'cos they said 'e was an\nable-bodied man. Spriggs wasn't a lazy man, and 'e did try for work, and\nhe wasn't a drunkard though 'e did fall down under the motor-bus, one of\nhis mates standing 'im a drink on a empty stomach, which we all knows\nflies quicker to the 'ead. It don't seem right as married ladies\na-carrying the kiddies should always go 'ungry, but it's the fact. Since\nSpriggs was took and the inquest sat on 'im we've had enough, but it's\ntoo late to save the little 'un, who was born silly, and Ernest was put\naway in Darenth, and I always says it was being starved, and the teacher\nalways a-caning of 'im because 'e couldn't learn on an empty stomach.\"\n\n\"Best not to marry, I says, and then if 'e falls out of work we can go\nto the parish and get took in on our own, and you don't 'ave to keep 'im\nlater on. Did you 'ear about Mrs. Moore? Mrs. Moore was our landlady,\nand 'er 'usband went off about three year ago with the barmaid at 'The\nBell'; the perlice tells 'er as she must come in the 'Ouse whilst they\nlooked for 'im, but she said she wouldn't, not if it was ever so, and\nshe was glad to be rid of bad rubbish. So she went to 'er old missis,\nwho lent her money to set up a lodging-house, and, being a good cook,\nshe soon had a 'ouseful, and brings up the three little ones clean and\nwell-behaved like ladies' children. Then the Guardians sent the other\nday to say as Moore had been taken off to Colney Hatch, mad with drink\nand wickedness, and she'd got to pay for 'im in there. Well, Mrs. Moore\nwent to appear afore the Board. Lord! we 'alf split ourselves with\nlaughing when she was a-telling us about it; she's got a tongue in 'er\nhead, as cooks have, I notice; the heat affects their tempers; and she\nwent off in one of 'er tantrums and fair frighted them.\n\n\"'I'm sure you'd like to pay for your 'usband, Mrs. Moore,' says the\nlittle man wot sits in the big chair.\n\n\"'I'm quite sure I shouldn't,' says Mrs. Moore; ''e's never been a\n'usband to me, pawning the 'ome and drinking and carrying-on with other\nwomen shocking. 'E promised to support me, 'e did: \"with all my worldly\ngoods I thee endow,\" and lies of that sort, but I made no such promise,\nand I won't do it. Working 'ard as I can I just keep a roof and get food\nfor the four of us, and if you takes a penny out of me I don't pay it,\nand I drops the job, and comes into the 'Ouse with Claude and Ruby and\nEsmeralda, and lives on the ratepayers, same as other women, which I 'as\na right to, being a deserted woman for three years, while 'e kep 'is\nbarmaids--or they kep 'im, which is probable if I knows Moore. And my\nyoung Claude being a for life, 'is father kicking 'im when he\nwas a crawler in one of 'is drunken fits. You may fine me and imprison\nme, and 'ang me by the neck till I am dead, but not a 'apenny shall you\nget out of me.'\n\n\"They told her to be quiet, but she wouldn't, and they pushed 'er out of\nthe room and into the street, still talking, and quite a crowd came\nround and listened to 'er, and they all says, 'Quite right; don't you\npay it, my gal,' and she didn't, and no one ain't asked 'er any more\nabout it. She fair frighted that Board of Guardians, she says. She's a\nfine talker, is Mrs. Moore, and nothing stops 'er when she's once\nstarted.\"\n\n\"I'm another who's done better since mine died,\" said a frail little\nwoman on crutches, with a red gash across her throat from ear to ear,\n\"and 'e was a real good 'usband, as came 'ome regular and did 'is duty\nto us all till he lost his work through the firm bankrupting, and not a\njob could 'e get again. And somehow, walking about all day with nothing\nin 'is inside, and 'earing the kids always crying for bread, seemed to\nturn 'im savage and queer in 'is head. 'E took to sleeping with a\ncarving-knife under the pillow, and hitting me about cruel. I knew it\nwas only trouble, and didn't think wrong of the man, but I went to ask\nthe magistrate for advice just what to do, as I thought 'is brain was\nqueer, and yet didn't want 'im put away. And the beak said 'e didn't\nthink much of a black eye, and I'd better go 'ome and make the best of\n'im. Just what I did, but 'e got worse, and the Organization lady said\nas we must go to the 'Ouse, or she'd have the cruelty man on us. And\nJack got wild and said 'e wasn't so cruel as to have bred paupers, and\nthey should go with 'im to a better land, far, far away. That night 'e\nblazed out shocking, as you know, for it was all in _Lloyd's News_, and\ncut little Daisy's throat, and rushed at H'albert, killing them dead.\nI'd an awful struggle with 'im, but I jumped out of the window just in\ntime, though my throat was bleeding fearful, and I broke both legs with\nthe fall. The perlice came then, but it was too late; 'e'd done for\n'imself and the two children, though I always give thanks to Mrs. Dore,\nwho came in whilst 'e was wrestling with me, and took off the little\nones and locked them up in the top-floor back. I done better since\nthen--the Board's took Amy and Leonard, and I manage nicely on my twelve\nshillings a week, with only Cholmondeley and the baby to look after. But\nit don't seem right somehow.\"\n\n\"No, it ain't right; married ladies ought not to go short, but we always\ndo. Boards and Organization ladies think as men keeps us. Granny says\nthey most always did in her day, and rich people does still, I suppose,\nbut it ain't the fashion down our street, and it falls 'eavy on the\nwoman what with earning short money and being most always confined. My\nson says as it's the laws as is old, and ought to be swept somewhere\ninto limbo, not as I understands it, being no scholard.\"\n\n\"Here we are at last! Ain't it a joyful sight to see the 'eavens and the\nearth, and no 'ouses in between; it always feels like Sunday in the\ncountry.\"\n\n\n\n\n\"YOUR SON'S YOUR SON\"\n\n My little son is my true lover--\n It seems no time ago since he was born.\n I know he will be quick and happy to discover\n The world of other women and leave me forlorn!\n Sometimes I think that I'll be scarcely human\n If I can brook his chosen woman!\n\n _Anna Wickham._\n\n\n\"Oh, dear! oh, dear!\" wailed the old lady, burying her face in her\npocket-handkerchief; \"to think as I've lived to see the day! I've always\nlived with 'Orace, and I've always prayed that the Lord would take me\nunto Himself before I was left alone with my grey hairs. A poor, pretty\nthing she is, too, with a pair of blue eyes and frizzled yellow curls,\ndressed out beyond her station in cheap indecencies of lace showing her\nneck and arms, as no proper-minded girl should. And she won't have me to\nlive with them--I who have never been parted from 'Orace not one day\nsince he was born thirty year ago come Sunday. Yes, I've got Esther;\nshe's away in service: she's Johnson's child; I've buried two husbands,\nboth of them railway men and both of them dying violent deaths. Johnson\nwas an engine-driver on the Great Northern, and he smashed 'isself to a\njelly in that accident near York nigh on forty year ago now. I said I'd\nnever marry on the line again, hating accidents and blood about the\nplace; however, it's a bit lonesome being a widow when you're young, and\nThompson courted me so faithful at last I gave in. He was 'Orace's\nfather, a guard on the Midland, and he went to step on his van after the\ntrain was off, as is the habit of guards--none of them ever getting\nkilled as I ever heard of except Thompson, who must needs miss his\nfooting and fall on the line, a-smashing of his skull fearful. Yes; I\ndrew two prizes in the matrimonial market--good, steady men, as always\ncame 'ome punctual and looked after the jennies in the window-boxes, and\nplayed with the children; but, as Mrs. Wells says, them is the sort as\ngets killed. If a woman gets 'old on a brute she may be quite sure he'll\ncome safe through all perils both on land and water, and live to torture\nseveral unfortunate women into their graves. 'Orace was a toddling babe\nthen, and Esther just ten years older. Fortunately, I was a good hand at\nthe waistcoat-making, and so I managed to keep the 'ome going; 'Orace\nwas always very clever, and he got a scholarship and worked 'isself up\nas an electrical engineer. One of the ladies got Esther a place at Copt\nHall, Northamptonshire, when she was only thirteen, and she's done well\never since, being cook now to Lady Mannering at thirty-six pounds a\nyear. No, she's never got married, Esther--a chap she walked out with\nwasn't as faithful as he should have been, a-carrying on with another at\nthe same time; and Esther took on awful, I believe, though she's one as\nholds her tongue, is Esther--at all events, she's never had naught to do\nwith chaps since. She's a good girl, is Esther; but 'Orace and me were\nalways together, and he always was such a one to sit at home with me\nworking at his wires and currents and a-taking me to see all the\nexhibitions, and explaining to me about the positives and negatives and\nthe volts and ampts; he never went after girls, and I always hoped as he\nwould never fall in love with mortal woman, only with a current; so it\nknocked all the heart out of me when he took to staying out in the\nevenings, and then brought the girl in one night as his future wife.\n'Orace was the prettiest baby you ever see'd, and when he used to sit on\nmy knee, with his head all over golden curls, like a picture-book, I\nused to hate to think that somewhere a girl-child was growing up to take\nhim from me--and to think it's come now, just when I thought I was safe\nand he no more likely to marry than the Pope of Rome, being close on\nthirty, and falling in love for the first time! And she won't have me to\nlive with them!\n\n\"Mrs. Wells has been telling me I mustn't stand in the young people's\nway. Of course I don't want to stand in their way; but I'm wondering how\nI'll shift without 'Orace; he always made the fire and brought me a cup\nof tea before he went to his work; and when the rheumatics took me bad\nhe'd help me dress and be as handy as a woman. I can't get the work I\nused to; my eyesight isn't what it was, and my fingers are stiff. No, I\nain't what I was, and I suppose I mustn't expect it, being turned\nsixty-seven, and I ain't old enough either for them pensions.\n\n\"Well, if it ain't Esther. You're early, lass; and it's not your evening\nout, neither. I've just been telling this lady how Ruby won't have me to\nlive with them; it's upset me shocking the thought of leaving 'Orace\nafter all these years. I'm trying not to complain, and I know 'Orace has\nbeen a son in ten thousand; but I'm afeard of the lonesomeness, and I\ndon't know how I'll live. Mrs. Wells says if the Guardians see my hands\nthey won't give me no outdoor relief, but they'll force me into the\nHouse, and I'd sooner be in my bury-hole.\" And again the poor old lady\nsobbed into her pocket-handkerchief.\n\n\"Don't cry, mother; it's all right; you shan't go on the parish, never\nfear, neither for outdoor relief nor indoor relief. I've left my place,\nand I'm coming to live with you and take care of you to the end of your\ndays. I'm not 'Orace, I know, but I'm your daughter, and after the\ncourting's over 'Orace will be your son again.\"\n\n\"Left your place, Esther! What do you mean, lass?\"\n\n\"What I say, mother. 'Orace wrote and told me what Ruby said, and I was\nthat sorry I went and gave notice. 'Orace is awful upset, too, but\nthere, it is no good talking to a man in love, and perhaps Ruby will get\nnicer; she's a young thing yet. So when I told my lady all about it she\nlet me come away at once. The family is going to the Riviera next week,\nand the housekeeper can manage quite well.\"\n\n\"You've left your good place, Esther, all for me?\"\n\n\"Yes; all right, old dear. I've got a fourteen-year character from my\nlady, and I'll soon find something to do; I'm not the sort as starves.\"\nAnd Esther rolled up her sleeves, made up the fire, and poured the\ncontents of the indignant kettle into the little black teapot.\n\n\"Oh, dear!\" wailed the old lady, \"you must not do this for me, lass;\nyou're heaping coals of fire on my 'ead, for, as Mrs. Wells often said\nto me, 'Don't be so set on 'Orace; remember, you have a girl too.' I was\nalways set on the boys, and not on the girls; women's life is a poor\ngame, and when I heard of them 'eathen 'Indus who kill the girl babies,\nI thought it a very sensible thing too--better than letting them grow up\nto slave for a pittance. But it is you now who are the faithful one,\"\nand she drew Esther's face down to hers and kissed her fondly.\n\nTears rose in the daughter's eyes; she seemed to remember with a sense\nof loss that her mother had never kissed her like that since she was a\nlittle child, before Horace was born.\n\n\n\n\n\"TOO OLD AT FORTY\"\n\n I had no place to flee unto; and no man careth for my soul.\n\n\nMiss Allison sat at her desk in the class-room, where she had sat for\nover twenty years, and gazed dreamily out of the window into the\ncourtyard below, where the girls of the ---- High School were at play.\nIn her hand she held a letter, which had brought the white, rigid look\nto her face, like that of a soldier who has received his death-wound.\nPerhaps she ought to have been prepared for the shock; the system of\n\"too old at forty\" has long been in working order in girls' schools,\npossibilities had been freely discussed in the mistresses' room; but,\nnevertheless, the blow had struck her dumb and senseless. The note was\nvery polite--\"owing to changes on the staff her valuable services would\nbe no longer required after the summer vacation\"--but Miss Allison had\nseen enough of the inner workings of High Schools to know that changes\non the staff meant that the old and incompetent were to be crushed out\nto make room for the young and fresh. Miss Allison was not\nincompetent--her worst enemy could not accuse her of that--but she was\ngetting just a little tired, just a little irritable; above all, her\nforty-second birthday had come and gone. Teaching is well known to\naffect the nerves, and in Miss Allison's case nervous exhaustion caused\nher tongue to run away with her; her sharp speeches to the idlers of her\nform were reported at home--losing nothing in the telling--and duly\nretailed by captious parents to the head mistress; the constant\ncomplaints were becoming a nuisance. Moreover, a young mistress, who\nwould take interest in the sports and could bowl round-arm, was badly\nwanted on the staff. Miss Allison belonged to an older generation, when\nathletics were not a _sine qua non_; she had never been a cricketer, at\nhockey her pupils easily outran her, and she had lost her nerve for\nhigh-diving--altogether, she had lived past her age. The queer part was,\nit had all taken such a little time; it seemed only yesterday that she\nhad come to the school, the youngest on the staff, and now she was the\noldest there, far older than the young girl from Girton who reigned as\nhead. And yet life was not nearly over yet; Miss Allison remembered with\ndismay that women went on living for fifty, sixty, seventy, and even\neighty and ninety years--it might be that half the journey still lay\nbefore her.\n\nShe made a rapid calculation in her brain of her little capital in the\nsavings-bank, which yielded her (after the income-tax had been\nrecovered) an annual sum of L10 13s. 9d. Though too old to teach, she\nwas too young to buy much of an annuity with the capital, and she knew\nthe state of the labour market too well to cherish any illusions as to\nthe possibility of obtaining work. Perhaps she ought to have saved more,\nbut for some years she had her invalid mother mainly dependent upon her,\nand illness runs away with money; she grudged nothing to the dead, but\nshe remembered almost with shame the amount she had spent in holiday\ntours.\n\nHer eyes rested with a sense of coming loss on the crowd in the\nplayground, a kaleidoscopic scene of flying legs and whirling draperies,\nthe sun shining on bright frocks and on the loose locks of gold and\nauburn till the dreary courtyard seemed to blossom like a flower-garden.\nHow she had loved all these girls, toiled and slaved for them, rejoiced\nin their success and mourned for their disappointments; but the children\nof the Higher Education, unlike Saturn, devour the mothers of the\nmovement, and suddenly these fair young girls had turned into rivals and\nenemies, beating her down in the dust with cricket bats and hockey\nsticks. An hour of bitter atheism fell upon Miss Allison; all her life\nhad been spent in serving \"the cause,\" the Higher Education of Women had\nbeen her creed, but now in middle life it had failed and she was left\nhelpless and superfluous as the poor women of an earlier generation, who\nhung so forlornly round the neck of their nearest male relation.\n\nA dry sob half choked her, as she rose mechanically in obedience to the\nbell to take her class in geometry.\n\n\n\n\nIN THE LUNATIC ASYLUM\n\n O Father, we beseech Thee, sustain and comfort Thy servants who\n have lost the powers of reason and self-control, suffer not the\n Evil One to vex them, and in Thy mercy deliver them from the\n darkness of this world....--_Prayer for Lunatics._\n\n\nI passed through the spacious grounds of A---- Asylum on my way to visit\nthe patients chargeable to our parish. A group of men were playing Rugby\nfootball, but even to the eye of the tyro there was something wrong with\nthe game--there was no unity, no enthusiasm; some lurking sinister\npresence--grotesque, hideous, that made one shudder--worse than\nstrait-waistcoat and padded-room. In conversation the lunatics struck me\nas no worse mentally than the rest of us outside. Most of them\ncomplained of unlawful detention, and begged pathetically for freedom.\n\"It is a dreadful place; why should I be kept here? We have just had a\nharvest festival, but I'm not thankful. What have we to do with harvest\nfestivals?\"\n\n\"I am quite well,\" said a tall, powerful-looking man; \"I assure you\nthere is nothing the matter with me,\" and as I was chronicling the fact\nin my notebook a fiendish light blazed in his eyes--the hate of hates,\nred-gleaming with fury and malice, as if all the devils in hell were\nmocking behind his eyes. For a moment that seemed an eternity I watched,\nparalysed, and then two stout warders pinioned him from behind and led\nhim away, swearing. \"Homicidal mania,\" said the doctor shortly; \"we have\nto be always on the watch.\"\n\nI interviewed the man who would be King, and heard his theory as to the\nillegal usurpation of the Throne by the Guelph family. I saw a new\nRedeemer of the world, and the woman who had conducted one of the great\nlawsuits of last century.\n\nThe women were more talkative, and complained volubly of captivity. A\nfew were sullen and suspicious, and would not come to the roll-call and\nI visited them on the stairs and corridors, or wherever they threw\nthemselves down.\n\nThe doctor saw to it that my inspection was thorough. I was conducted to\nthe padded-rooms, where maniacs laughed and shouted and sang and\nblasphemed, some of them throwing themselves frantically against the\ncushioned walls, others lying silently on the floor, plucking futilely\nat their sacking clothing. One poor woman lay in bed wasted to a shadow,\nher bones nearly sticking through her skin. \"Pray for him,\" she cried;\n\"oh, pray for him! His soul is burning in hell; night and day he cries\nto me for a drop of cold water, but I may not take it to him. Look at\nhis poor throat where the rope cut; look at his poor starting eyes. Is\nthere no mercy in heaven?\"\n\n\"Poor woman!\" said the doctor. \"Her only son was hanged, and it has\nturned her brain. She is sinking fast. I don't think she can live the\nday out, and we shall all say 'Thank God!' It is a most pitiful case.\"\n\nIn the general ward I saw a magnificent growth of golden hair plaited\nround and round the head of a young girl who sat in a corner, her face\nburied in her hands. Beside her sat a visitor, pressing some hot-house\ngrapes upon her. \"Just try one, Mabel darling; don't you know me, dear?\"\nThe hands were not withdrawn, but as I passed with the doctor she\nsuddenly sprang to her feet. \"Has he come?\" The doctor paused, and\nnodded cheerfully at the visitor. \"Very good sign, Mrs. Foster; I will\nsee you later about your daughter.\" At last it was over; my report-sheet\nwas filled, and with great thankfulness I passed into the outer air. I\ngazed at the men and women outside with a sense of comradeship and\nsecurity; whatever their private troubles, at least they were\n\"uncertified,\" free men, not possessed of devils, grievously tormented.\nOne gets used to everything; but that first visit to A---- Asylum stands\nout in letters of flame in my memory, and as I waited on the platform\nfor my train, I shivered as if with ague and a sense of deadly nausea\noverpowered me.\n\nI entered an empty compartment, but just as the train was starting the\nwoman whom I had seen visiting at the asylum got in after me, and we\nwere alone together. She glanced at me shyly several times, as if she\nwished to say something; and then, suddenly clutching my hand, she burst\ninto tears: \"Oh! I am so thankful--so thankful! Did you see my poor girl\nto-day? Yes, I know you did, for I saw you look at her beautiful golden\nhair--whenever I see the sun shining on cornfields I think of my Mabel's\nhair. Well, for nigh three years Mabel has sat in that awful place; she\nhas never taken her hands away from her face, nor looked up, nor spoken\na word, till this afternoon; and then, whether it was the doctor, or\nyour blue cloak--but, as you saw, she stood up and spoke, and after that\nshe ate some grapes, and knew me again, and grumbled at the way they had\ndone her hair--the nurse says that is the best sign of all, and so does\nthe doctor. Oh! thank God! thank God!\" and the poor woman sobbed in\nchoking spasms of joy.\n\nI felt that I and my blue cloak were such unconscious agents in the\nrestoration of reason that her gratitude was quite embarrassing.\n\n\"Yes, she has been in there just on three years; acute melancholia, they\ncall it, brought on by nervous shock. Our doctor at home always gave me\nsome hope, but not the people in there. I suppose they see such a lot of\nmisery, they get into the habit of despair. Mabel is my only child; my\nhusband died just after she was born, so you can guess what she has\nbeen to me. Fortunately, I understood the greengrocery business; so when\nI lost my husband I went on with the shop just the same, and was able to\ngive her a good education. She took to her books wonderful, and got a\nscholarship on to the High School; she learnt French and German, and\nwent on to Pitman's College for shorthand and typewriting; and at\neighteen she got an engagement as typist and secretary to a City firm.\nShe was a wonderful pretty girl, my Mabel; just like a lily, with her\nslight figure and golden head; and the men came about her like flies;\nbut she would never go with any of them; she was such a one to come home\nand spend her evenings quietly with me, reading or sewing. Then suddenly\nI saw a change had come over my girl; one of the gentlemen in the office\nhad been after her, and she had fallen in love with him, head over\nheels, as girls will. I wasn't glad; perhaps it was a mother's jealousy,\nperhaps it was second-sight a-warning of me; but I couldn't be pleased\nnohow. He came up to tea on Sunday afternoon, and I hated him at once;\nif ever liar and scoundrel was written on a man's face, it was there\nplain for all to read, except my poor child, and she was blind as folks\nin love always are. Then, though he wasn't a gentleman as I count\ngentlemen, he was above her in station, and I could see as he looked\ndown on me and the shop; and, as I told my poor girl, them unequal\nmarriages don't lead to no good. But there, I saw it was no use\na-talking; we only fell out over the wretch--the only time she ever\nspoke nasty to me was over him--I saw she would only marry him on the\nsly if I said 'No'--we must let our children go to their doom when they\nare in love--and so I took my savings out of the bank and gave her a\ntrousseau of the best; and all the time my heart was heavy as lead.\nFolks used to laugh at me and tell me I looked as if I were getting\nready for a funeral instead of a wedding. There's many a true word\nspoken in jest; and that was how I felt all the time--a great, black\ncloud of horror over everything.\n\n\"You should have seen my Mabel on her wedding-day. She looked just\nbeautiful in her plain white dress and long veil. The two bridesmaids\nwore white muslin, with blue sashes; and Mrs. Allen--my first-floor\nlodger--said as they might have been three angels of heaven. I drove in\nthe cab to give my girl away. God only knows how I felt. Folks have told\nme since that I was white and rigid like a corpse, and that I sat in\nchurch with my hand held up before Mabel as if to ward off a blow. We\nsat, and waited, and waited, and waited. It was summer-time; and, being\nin the trade, I had not spared the flowers; and the church was heavy\nwith the scent of roses and sweet-peas--I have sickened every summer\nsince at the smell of them. The organist played all the wedding tunes\nthrough, and then began them over again--I have hated the sound of them\never since--and still we waited. The best man went out to telephone for\nthe bridegroom; and my eldest nephew took a motor to drive round to\nfetch him. The clock struck three, and the vicar, looking very troubled\nfor Mabel, came out in his surplice to say the ceremony could not take\nplace that day; so we all drove home again. Mabel never spoke; but she\nsat up in her bedroom cold as a stone, with her face buried in her\nhands, just as you saw her this afternoon, leaning her arms on the\nlittle writing-table where she used to sit to do her lessons. She would\nnot speak, nor eat, nor move; and by sheer force we tore off her wedding\nfinery and got her into bed. The doctor came and said she was suffering\nfrom nervous shock, and if she could cry she might recover. We pitied\nher and called him, and the bridesmaids swelled up their eyes with\ncrying, hoping to infect her; but not a tear could we get out of her;\nnot even when my nephew came back with a note the scoundrel had left. He\nwas a married man all the time; and the crime of bigamy was too much for\nhim at the end. My sister and I sat up all night, but we could do\nnothing with her; and at the end of the week the doctor said she must be\nput away, as it was not safe for her to be at home. Ah, well! we live\nthrough terrible things; and when I left my pretty, clever girl at the\nlunatic asylum I did not think I could bear it; but I went on living.\nThat is three years ago now and never once has Mabel looked up or spoken\ntill to-day, I think it was your blue cloak; her going-away dress was\njust that colour, and it seemed to rouse her somehow.\"\n\nThe train drew up at the terminus, and she held out her hand in\nfarewell. \"Good-bye. Please think of my Mabel sometimes. I don't know\nwhat religion you are, but if you would sometimes say this prayer for\nher, perhaps God might hear.\" She held out a little bit of paper, soiled\nand smudged as if with many tears; and then the crowds surged between\nus, and we parted.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SWEEP'S LEGACY\n\n (1900)\n\n\nMost visitors among the poor have come across the person who believes\nthat he has a large fortune kept back from him by the Queen, aided and\nabetted by the gentlemen of Somerset House and other public offices.\n\nI once knew a sweep in Whitechapel who was firmly persuaded that he had\na legacy of five hundred pounds in the Bank of England. \"Yes, lady, if I\nhad my rights, I should not be so poor. My aunt, Lady Cable Knight--she\nmarried a tip-top nobleman, she did--left me on her dying bed five\nhundred pounds in gold. The money's in the Bank of England. I seed it\nthere myself on a shelf, labelled A. A.--Anthony Adams--but I ain't no\nscholard, and the gentleman behind the counter said I must have a\nscholard to speak for me. The money is there right enough, and I've got\nmy aunt's marriage lines, so that proves it clear.\"\n\nAt first I paid little heed to his story, but after a time I got fond of\nthe old sweep, and began to wonder if I could not help him to obtain\nthis legacy. He was a good old man--always serene, always \"trustful in\nthe Lord,\" though he well knew the pangs of hunger and cold, for\nyounger and stronger men were crushing him out of his profession. A\npoor deformed creature lived with him--one of those terrible abortions\nfound in the homes of the poor--epileptic, crippled, hydrocephalous,\nwhom I took for the son of the house but on inquiry I found he was no\nrelation.\n\n\"We were neighbours up George Yard, lady; no, he ain't no son of mine,\nH'albert ain't. He's very afflicted, poor chap, and 'is own family would\nhave nothing to do with 'im, so I gave 'im a 'ome. The lad don't eat\nmuch, and the Lord will reward me some day. If I only had that money,\nthough, we might live comfortable!\" Of course it was strictly against\nthe rules of the Buildings for \"H'albert\" to share the room, but even\nwomen rent-collectors have hearts.\n\n\"If you only had some proof of your claim to the money, I would try to\nhelp you,\" I said one day when the rent had been missed. I had noticed\nthe little room getting barer and shabbier week by week, and to-day the\nold man, his wife, and \"H'albert\" looked pinched and blue with cold and\nhunger. Already I had secretly paid a visit to Somerset House to inspect\nthe will of Lady Cable Knight.\n\n\"Well, I've got my aunt's marriage lines; doesn't that prove it? But the\nQueen she gets 'old of us poor people's money. We've no chance against\nthe rich; we're no scholards--they never larnt us nothing when I was a\nboy. The man in a paper 'at, that sells whelks in Whitechapel, knows all\nabout it, but he's no scholard neither.\"\n\nTouched by the want of scholarship amongst his friends, I put my\nattainments at his service, and we went together to claim five hundred\npounds in gold, labelled \"A. A.\" on a shelf in the Bank of England.\n\nI half hoped that, after the habit of his class, the old man would not\n\"turn up.\" But when I got out of the train at Broad Street, our place of\nrendezvous, I saw him waiting at the corner, \"cleaned\" for the occasion,\nin a strange old swallow-tail coat that might have figured at stately\nCourt dances when George III was king. On his arm he carried a coarse\nbag of sacking, not quite cleansed from soot. We attracted no small\nattention as we passed through the City, and it was quite a relief when\nthe classic walls of the Bank hid us from the vulgar gaze, though it was\nno small ordeal to face the clerks and explain our errand. But I suppose\nthose gentlemen are used to monetary claims of this kind, and to their\neternal honour be it said that they never smiled, not even at the\nproduction of the sooty marriage certificate by way of establishing our\nclaim.\n\nWhen at last we passed out again into the roar and glare of the street,\nthe bag provided for the spoil empty as before, I saw the old man draw\nhis sleeve across his eyes, leaving a long sooty trail. \"It's no good,\nma'am; the poor have no chance against the rich. I didn't even see the\nbag marked A. A. this time. Most likely the Queen and those gentlemen\nhave spent it all long ago. But I thank you, lady, all the same, and\nwill you allow me to pay your fare for coming down to speak for me?\"\n\nWhen his offer was refused, he wrung my hand in silence, and then turned\neastwards towards his home.\n\nI watched him till he disappeared in the crowd, a forlorn and pathetic\nfigure, not without dignity in his strange old-world garb.\n\n\n\n\nAN ALIEN[1]\n\n\n\"No, I ain't got it, ma'am; he says I'm a foreigner. I filled up the\npapers same as you told me, and then the gentleman called and asked for\nthe birth-certificate, same as you said he would. 'I ain't got it,' I\nsays. 'I suppose when I was born children were too common and folks too\nbusy to go twenty miles down the hillside to crow over a baby at\nCarlisle Town Hall. There were fifteen of us all told, and my father\nonly a farm labourer; if he went abroad the work stayed at 'ome, and\n'e'd no time for gallivanting with seventeen mouths to fill. But I've\ngot my baptism here all right; my mother was a pious body, and as soon\nas she could stand up she went to be churched and take the new stranger\nto be washed free of original sin in font-water; 'ere's the date written\non it, 1837--year Queen Victoria began her most happy reign--you'll\nbelieve that, I suppose, in a parson's 'andwriting? Stands to reason I\nwas born afore I was christened; they couldn't put the cross on my\nforehead, now could they, till my face was out in the world? Silly\ntalk, I calls it, so now don't say no more, but pay me that five\nshillings and give me the book with the tickets--same as other ladies!'\n\n\"'You've lost your domicile,' he says.\n\n\"'Don't know what that is,' I says.\n\n\"'Married a foreigner,' he says.\n\n\"'Well, and if I did, that ain't no business of yours, my lad; you\nweren't born nor thought of and he died afore you come near this wicked\nworld. He's been dead wellnigh on fifty year, so 'e didn't cross your\npath to worry you. Couldn't talk English? I says as 'e talked a deal\nbetter than you. I understood what 'e says, and I can't make 'ead nor\ntail of your silly talk, my lad, so there. Coverture? No--I ain't 'eard\nof that--no, nor naturalization either; you go down and fetch up Mrs.\nNash--she's a rare scholard, she is--such a one for her books and\npoetry. Perhaps she'll make sense of your long words, for I can't. I\nlived afore the school-boards, and all the schooling I got I found out\nfor myself sitting up in bed at night a-teaching myself to read and\nwrite. Not as I think much of all the larning myself; the girls can't\nkeep a 'ome together as we used, and though the boys sit at the school\ndesks a-cyphering till they are grown young men, they seem allus out of\nwork at the end of it,' I says.\n\n\"'Yes, yes, you needn't olloa, my lad; I'm not deaf, though I am old and\ngrey-headed. So I can't have the pension because fifty years ago I fell\nin love and married a steady young man, who worked hard, and knew how to\ntreat his wife (which 'alf you Englishmen don't), though 'e was a\nFrenchman? I tell you marriage don't matter; 'usbands are come-by-chance\nsort of people--you go a walk in the moonlight, and you kisses each\nother, and then, afore you're clear in your mind, you're standing at the\naltar, and the \"better for worse\" curse a-thundering over you. Ah! well,\npoor Alphonse didn't live long enough to get worse, and his death made\nme a widow indeed, and though I was only twenty-two, and plenty of men\ncame after me, I never took none of 'em. I didn't want no nasty bigamous\ntroubles on the Resurrection morning. Why should five years out of my\nseventy-two change me into a Frenchy? What counts is my father and\nmother, and my childhood by Helvellyn,' I says. 'I'm British-born, of\nBritish parents, on British soil. I've never stirred from my land, and I\ncan't speak a word of nowt but English, so stop your silly talk, my lad.\nAnd then,' I says, 'if my husband made me a Frenchy, ain't I English\nagain by my sons? (it says in the Book a woman shall be saved by\nchild-bearing)--two of 'em in the Navy and one of 'em killed and buried\nat Tel-el-Kebir, and a dozen grandsons or more a-serving of Her Majesty\nin furrin parts--yes, I allus say \"Her Majesty\"; I've been used to the\nQueen all my life, and Kings don't seem right in England somehow.\n\n\"What stumps me is that you gone and paid a pension to that woman\nopposite; now, she's an alien and a foreigner if you like--can't speak a\nword of English as a body can understand, and she hates England--allus\na-boasting about Germany and the Emperor and their army, and how they'll\ncome and smash us to pieces--she married an Englishman, so that makes\nher English--'eavens, what rubbish! Why, 'e died a few years after the\nwedding, and she's only been here a couple of years at the most; I\nremember them coming quite well. So she's English, with her German\ntongue and her German ways, just because she belonged for a couple of\nyears to an English corpse in the cemetery; and I, with my English birth\nand life and sons, am French because of my poor Alphonse rotted to dust\nfifty years ago. Well, England's a nice land for women, a cruel\nstep-dame to her daughters; seems as if English girls 'ad better get\ntheirselves born in another planet, where people can behave decent-like\nto them, and not make it a crime and a sin at seventy for marrying nice\nyoung men who court them at eighteen. I pray as God will send a plague\nof boys in the land and never a girl amongst them, so that the English\npeople shall die out by their own wickedness, or have to mate only with\nfurriners.\"\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[1] Since this monologue was spoken the old lady has received her\npension. By the order of September 1911 twenty years of widowhood\ncleanse from alien pollution.\n\n\n\n\n\"WIDOWS INDEED\"\n\n\nMrs. Woods had just returned from her search after work, worn and weary\nafter a day of walking and waiting about on an empty stomach; the\nEducational Committee of Whitelime had informed her that they had\ndecided to take no deserted wives as school-scrubbers, only widows need\napply. Outside she heard the voices of her children at play in the fog\nand mist, and remembered with dull misery that she had neither food nor\nfiring for them, and she shuddered as she heard the language on their\nyouthful lips; she had been brought up in the godly ways of the\nNorth-country farmhouse and the struggle against evil seemed too hard\nfor her.\n\nShe fitted the key into the lock of her little bare room and lit the\nevil-smelling lamp, then she sank into a chair overpowered by deadly\nnausea; strange whirligigs of light flashed before her eyes, and then\nshe collapsed on the floor in a dead faint.\n\nWhen she came to herself she was sitting by a bright little fire in the\nnext room and friendly neighbours were chafing her hands and pouring a\npotent spirit down her throat.\n\n\"That's right, my dear, you're coming round nicely; have another sip of\ngin and then a good cup of tea will put you right; faint you were, my\ndear, I know, and I suppose you had no luck at them Board Schools?\"\n\nMrs. Woods raised a weary hand to her dazed head and thought dully\nbefore she answered--\n\n\"They asked me if I was a widow, and when I said my husband had deserted\nme over a month ago they said as they were sorry they could not give me\nany work, they were keeping it for the widows of the Borough.\"\n\n\"Yes, I 'eard that from Mrs. James, but why didn't you have the sense to\nsay as you were a widow?\"\n\n\"I never thought on that. I am a truthful woman, I am.\"\n\n\"Can't afford to be truthful if you are a deserted woman; men on boards\nand committees don't like the breed, thinks you did something to drive\nthe old man away, but widows moves the 'ardest 'earts. What you wants is\na crape fall and Mrs. Lee's black-bordered 'ankerchief.\"\n\n\"You'll have to get work, my dear. All the pack will be loose on you\nsoon--school-board visitors and sanitaries, and cruelty-men to say as\nyour children have not enough food----\"\n\n\"There, there, don't upset her again; we'll fix you up all right, my\ndear, only you must remember, Mrs. Woods, that you are young and\nignorant and must be guided by them as knows the world,\" said Mrs. Lee,\na shrewd-eyed old dame of great wisdom and experience, who, like some of\nthe cures in Brittany, was consulted by all her friends and neighbours\nin all problems spiritual and temporal.\n\n\"First of all, my dear, you must get out of this, you're getting too\nwell known in this locality. Go into London Street right across the 'igh\nroad. I 'ave a daughter as can give you a room, and there you become a\nwidow, Mrs. Spence--just buried 'im in Sheffield. You're from Yorkshire,\nI reckon?\"\n\nMrs. Woods nodded.\n\n\"You talk queer just like my old man did, so that'll sound true. You\ntakes your children from Nightingale Lane, and you sends them to that\nbig Board School by the docks--my Muriel knows the name--and you enters\nthem as Spence, not Woods--mind you tells them they are Spence. Then you\nstarts a new life. There are cleaners wanted in that idiot school just\nbuilt by Whitelime Church, and I'll be your reference if you want one.\nI'll lend you my crape fall, and I'll wash my black-bordered\n'ankerchief, which has mourned afore boards and committees for the last\nten years or more; mind you use it right and sniff into it when they\nasks too many questions, and be sure and rub it in as 'ow you've buried\n'im in Sheffield. I've 'eard all the women talking at the laundry as 'ow\nthey're refusing work to deserted wives, says as the Council don't want\nto make it easy for 'usbands to dump families on the rates--good Gawd!\nas if a man eat up body and soul with a fancy for another woman stops\nto think of his family and where they will get dumped. Well, I mustn't\ngrumble. Lee was a good man to me and I miss 'im sad, but there is my\nGladys, the prettiest of the bunch, the flower of the flock as 'er dad\nused to call 'er, left within three year of 'er wedding by 'er 'usband,\nwho was the maddest and silliest lover I ever seed till she said 'Yes'\nto 'im, though dad and I always told 'er 'e was no good. No, my dear,\nI'm afraid as it isn't the truth, but if folks play us such dirty tricks\nwe must be even with them. Think of your little 'ome and your little\nkiddies and rouse yourself for their sakes. You are a strong and 'earty\nwoman when you stop crying for 'im and get some victuals into you, and\nyou don't want the Board to get at 'em and take 'em away, protecting\nthem against you and sending them to that great Bastille. Don't give\nway, dearie. I'll come with you to-morrow. And I'd better be your\nmother-in-law; folks know me round 'ere, and 'ow me and the old dad 'ad\nfifteen of 'em, and a daughter-in-law more or less won't matter. Don't\ngive way, I tell you. Give us another cup of tea, Mrs. Hayes.\"\n\nThe next morning a deep-crape-veiled Mrs. Spence, propped up by an\nequally funereal Mrs. Lee, the black-bordered handkerchief much in\nevidence, sought and obtained work at the new L.C.C. School for the\nMentally Defective, and the terrors of the workhouse, the Poor Law\nSchools, or even prison were temporarily averted.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RUNAWAY\n\n\nHe sat alone, in a corner of the playing field, a white-faced child of\nthe slums, in a dumb agony of loneliness and despair.\n\nHe was frightened and appalled at the wide stretches of green woodland\naround and the great dome of the blue sky above. It made him feel\nsmaller and more deserted than ever, and his head was sore with\nhome-sickness for his mother and Mabel, the sister next him, and the\nbaby, his especial charge, for whose warm weight his little arms ached\nwith longing.\n\nHe had always been his mother's special help. He had minded the younger\nones when she got a job at washing or charing, and helped her to sew\nsacks with little fingers quickly grown deft with practice. They had\nbeen very happy, even though food was often short, and spent many\npleasant hours amongst the graves of their churchyard playgrounds, or\nsitting on the Tower Wharf watching the river and the big ships.\n\nThe nightmare of his short life had been a man called Daddy, who came\nback when they were all asleep, smelling strong and queer, and then\nthere would be furious words and the dull thuds of blows falling on his\nmother's slender body, and he would throw himself screaming to protect\nhis beloved against the wild beast that was attacking her. Once in the\nfray his arm had got broken, and he had seen, as in an evil dream, a\ndreaded \"cop\" enter the room, and Daddy had been hailed to prison, after\nwhich there was long peace and joy in the little home.\n\nThen the man came out, and the quarrels were worse than ever, till a\nkindly neighbour took Percy to sleep on the rag bed with her other\nchildren, out of the way of Daddy, who had conceived a violent hatred\nagainst his firstborn.\n\nThen one day Daddy was brought home, straight and stiff, on a stretcher.\nThere had been a drunken row at the \"Pig and Whistle,\" and Daddy had\nfallen backwards on the pavement, and died of a fractured skull. An\ninquest was held, and much more interest was shown in Daddy's dead body\nthan any one had evinced in his living one. A coroner and a doctor and\ntwelve jurymen \"sat\" gravely on the corpse, and decided he had died \"an\naccidental death.\"\n\nThen there was a funeral and a long drive in a carriage with much crape\nand black about, and Daddy was left in a deep yellow hole with muddy\nwater at the bottom. And peace came again to the widow and orphans.\n\nPeace, but starvation, for the mother's wage did not suffice to buy\nbread for them all. The rent got behind, and finally, with many tears\nand much pressure from various black-coated men, who seemed always\nworrying at the door, he and Mabel had been taken to a big, terrible\nplace called a workhouse. And, after some preliminary misery at another\nplace, called a \"Receiving Home,\" wretchedness had culminated in this\nstrange vastness of loneliness and greenery. Only two days had passed,\nbut they seemed like years, and he trembled lest his sentence here\nshould be a life-one, and he would never see his mother again. He had\nnot killed nor robbed nor hurt any one, and he wondered with the\nbewilderment of seven years why men and women could be so cruel to him.\nThen he determined to run away. It had not taken long in the train. If\nhe started soon, he would be home by bedtime.\n\n\"Where's London?\" he asked a boy who was hitting a smaller one to pass\nthe time.\n\n\"Dunno. You go in a train.\"\n\n\"I know. But which way?\"\n\n\"Dunno, I tell you.\"\n\nNear him stood one of the teachers, but as a natural enemy the boy felt\nhe was not to be trusted, and did not ask him.\n\nThen the bell rang for dinner, and they took their seats round the long,\nbare tables, in front of a steaming plate of stewed meat and vegetables.\nHis pulses were beating with excitement at his secret plot, and the food\nwas like sawdust in his mouth. Afternoon school began, and he sat with\nthe resigned boredom of his kind, chanting in shrill chorus the eternal\ntruths of the multiplication table.\n\nThen some other subject, equally dull, was started, when suddenly his\nheart leaped to his mouth, and he nearly fell off the bench with the\nunexpected joy of it, for the teacher had brought up the intimate\nquestion of his soul: \"Which is the way to London?\"\n\nThe blood throbbed so loud in his ears that he could scarcely hear the\nanswer. \"London lies south of this schoolroom. If you walked out of that\nwindow, and followed your nose up the white road yonder, it would take\nyou to London.\"\n\nOther strange instruction followed--how to find north and south, and all\nabout the sun and moon--but he purposely refrained from attending. By\nthe act of God the position of London had been miraculously revealed to\nhim, and he clung fast to that knowledge, so that his brain was burning\nwith the effort of concentration.\n\nAt last the bell rang, and they flocked out again into the playing\nfield. He stood alone with his great knowledge and reconnoitred the\nsituation like an experienced general; a high fence with barbed wire ran\nround the field (clearly boys had run away before), but on the left of\nthe square school-house he could see the shrubbery and the big locked\ngates by which he had been brought in with fellow-prisoners two days\nbefore.\n\nClearly, there was no escape but by going back to the house and facing\nperils unspeakable. So, humming softly to himself, he walked back\nthrough the long corridors to the entrance-hall, and out at the front\ndoor, which was standing open, for the day was hot. He sneaked along\nlike a cat under the laurel bushes.\n\nThe big gates were locked, but farther down, hidden in the ivy of the\nwall, was a small door which yielded to his push, and then, by the\nfavour of the angels, he stood free, and ran for his life up the white\nroad which led to London. At the top of the hill he paused and panted\nfor breath. The windows of the great school-house glared at him like the\neyes of some evil beast, and, small as he was, he was painfully\nconscious of his conspicuousness on the white highway. A farmer's cart\npassed him, and the man turned round and gazed after him curiously. A\nmotor-bus thundered past in a cloud of white, and again it seemed as if\nevery head turned to watch him.\n\nHot and faint and thirsty, he still plodded on. London, with its beloved\nchimneys and friendly crowds, would soon burst into view, and his\nmother, with her cheery \"What-ho, Percy!\" would be welcoming him. The\nnew shoes of the school were pinching badly. He longed to take them off,\nbut funked the knots, which some female person had tied that morning\nwith damnable efficiency. The sun had suddenly tumbled into a\ndangerous-looking pool of red fire, and the shadows which ran beside him\nhad grown so gigantic he felt alarmed. Such terrifying phenomena were\nunknown in the blessed streets of London. The queer night noises of the\ncountryside had begun around him: strange chirrups and cries from\nunseen beasts, which seemed to follow and run beside him; and every now\nand then a horned monster stuck its head over the gate and roared\nhungrily for its prey.\n\nAt length, wearied and hungry, and terrified by the sinister darkness\nstealing over the landscape, he threw himself down by the wayside. He\nheard the sound of footsteps behind, and braced himself to meet the\nknife of the murderer, when a cheerful voice greeted him: \"What-ho,\nsonnie! You are out late. Time for little boys to be in bed.\"\n\n\"Please, sir,\" said the child, \"I am going home to mother.\"\n\n\"Where does your mother live?\"\n\n\"In London.\"\n\n\"London, eh! But you've a long way to go.\"\n\nA sob rose and tore at his throat. Still a long way to go, and darkness\nwas coming on--black, inky darkness, uncut by familiar street-lamps.\n\n\"Come home with me, Tommy, and my missis will sleep you for the night.\"\n\nWith a feeling of perfect confidence, the child slipped his small\nfingers into the horny hand of the farm labourer, and half an hour\nlater, washed and fed, he was sleeping in a big bed amongst a\nheterogeneous collection of curly heads.\n\n\"Look 'ere, Bill,\" said the labourer's wife as she folded up the neat\nlittle garments provided by unwilling ratepayers, \"'e's runned away from\nthat there barrack school.\"\n\n\"I knowed that,\" said Bill, knocking the ashes out from his clay pipe.\n\"It ain't the first time as I've met youngsters on the road, and, mebbe,\nit won't be the last, as folks in the village have been before the beak\nfor harbouring them, poor little devils!\"\n\n\n\n\n\"A GIRL! GOD HELP HER!\"\n\n\nThe Lady Catherine Castleton lay dying in the stately bed-chamber of\nCastleton Hall. Night and day they had sought for my lord in clubs and\ngambling dens and well-known haunts of vice and pleasure, but they did\nnot know of the rose-grown cottage on the Thames which he had taken for\nhis latest inamorata.\n\nWhen they told my lady the child was a girl she had given a low cry,\n\"God help her!\" and had turned her face to the wall. Great obstetricians\nsummoned by telephone had sped in flying motors from town, but they\nstood baffled and helpless by the bedside of the young woman, who lay so\nstill and indifferent, making no effort to live.\n\nIn the library the family lawyer and the white-haired admiral, her\nfather, sat signing cheques for the great specialists, who had done so\nlittle and charged so much.\n\nWhen they had gone the admiral, who loved his daughter, swore long and\nvigorously with the gorgeous powers of the seafaring man, and the lawyer\nlistened with fascinated approval.\n\n\"I told her what her life would be with a loose-living scoundrel like\nCastleton, but she would not listen--madly in love with him and his\nhandsome face, and now he has killed her at twenty-two!\"\n\n\"I had a very distressing interview with Lady Catherine a few weeks ago.\nShe went away in disgust and despair when I had to tell her that I did\nnot think she had sufficient evidence for a divorce, and that she must\nprove cruelty or desertion as well as adultery.\"\n\n\"D---d shameful law, sir; can't think how the country puts up with it.\nBut she shall be safe from him if she lives, my poor little girl!\"\n\nThen they were silent, for the shadow of death crept nearer.\n\n * * * * *\n\nOutside the park gates at the end of the village, in Castleton Union,\nanother girl lay dying. The local practitioner had been called in on his\nway back from consultation with the great gynaecologists, and as at the\nhall, so in the workhouse, he found his patient sinking. \"She came in\nlate last night, sir,\" said the nurse, \"and the child was born almost\nimmediately. Her pulse is very weak, and I can't rouse her; she won't\neven look at the child.\"\n\n\"I hear it is Jennie Appleton, the carpenter's daughter at\nKingsford--very respectable people. How did she get here?\"\n\n\"Usual thing. Got into trouble at her situation in London; the man\npromised to marry her, but he kept putting it off, and then one day he\ndisappeared, and wrote to her from Glasgow saying that he was a married\nman. She came back home, but her father drove her out with blows and\ncurses, and she walked here from Kingsford--goodness knows how. It is a\nsad case, and the relieving officer tells me she will probably not be\nable to get any affiliation order enforced, as the man has evaded\nliability by going to Scotland.\"\n\n\"Abominable!\" said the doctor; then he went towards the bedside of his\npatient, felt her pulse, glanced at the temperature chart, and his face\ngrew grave.\n\nTaking the babe from the cradle, he laid it beside the mother: \"You have\na pretty little girl.\"\n\nThe eyelids flickered, and, as the Countess had spoken, so spoke the\npauper: \"God help her!\"\n\n\"He will,\" said the doctor, who was a religious man.\n\n\"He didn't help me. He let me come to this, and I was born respectable.\nShe is only a little come-by-chance maid.\"\n\n\"Cheer up, my lass! My wife will help you: she knows it has not been\nyour fault.\"\n\nThe doctor gave a few directions, and then left, looking puzzled and\nworried. He was a good _accoucheur_, and hated to lose a case. What was\nthe matter with the women that they seemed to have lost the will to\nlive?\n\n * * * * *\n\nThree days later, in the glory of the May sunshine, there was a double\nfuneral in Castleton churchyard.\n\n\n\n\nON THE PERMANENT LIST\n\n (1905)\n\n Now also when I am old and grey-headed,\n O God, forsake me not.\n\n\n\"Spend but a few days in the police-court,\" says Juvenal, \"and then call\nyourself an unhappy man if you dare.\" Had he sat on a Board of\nGuardians, he would doubtless have included that also as a school of\npersonal contentment.\n\nAll sorts of griefs and tragedies are brought up before us, some of them\nabnormal and Theban in horror, some of them so common that we seem to\nhear them unmoved: an honest man who cannot find employment, women with\nunborn babes kicked, starved, and deserted, children neglected or\ntortured, poor human beings marred in the making, the crippled, the\ndiseased, the defective physically and mentally, too often the pitiful\nscapegoats for the sins of the race.\n\nAll these things seem too terrible for words or tears; it is the\ncheeriness and humour of the poor, their pluck and endurance, their\nkindness and generosity one to another, that bring a lump to the throat\nand a dimness to the eyes.\n\nWe are a very careful Board, and pride ourselves on the strict way in\nwhich we administer our small amount of out-relief; to get it at all\none must be, as an applicant observed, \"a little 'igher than an angel,\"\nand so it is the very aristocracy of labour that files past us this\nmorning, men and women against whom even the Charity Organization\nSociety could find no fault, a brave old army, seventy and eighty odd\nyears of age, some of them bent and crippled with rheumatism and weight\nof years, short of breath, asthmatic, hard of hearing, dim in vision,\nbut plucky to the last, always in terror of looking too ill or too old,\nand being forced into the workhouse.\n\nA few, like Moses, do not suffer the usual stigmata of age. \"Their eye\nis not dim, nor their natural force abated.\"\n\n\"How do you keep so young?\" said our chairman, half-enviously, to an\napplicant eighty years of age, but upright still, with hair thick and\nuntinged with grey.\n\n\"'Igh living does it, sir,\" replied the old man, as he took his food\ntickets for the week, amounting to 3s. 13/4d. One old lady of eighty-two\nruns a private school, and, in spite of the competition of free\neducation and palatial school buildings, she has six pupils, whose\nparents value individual attention and \"manners\" at sixpence per head a\nweek. She is fully qualified and certificated, and is a person of strong\nviews and much force of character, and not only holds Solomon's opinions\nupon corporal punishment in theory, but still puts them into practice. I\nwonder which of us will have the conviction and energy to cane boys at\neighty-two?\n\nWe are a very clean Board, and every half-year the relieving officer\nbrings a report as to the condition of the homes; but some of the old\npeople are so withered and shrunken, and their span of remaining life is\nso short, that there seems little left both of time and space in which\ndirt can collect, and I always hope death will free them before they are\nbrought into the bleak cleanliness of the House.\n\nLately in the workhouse one old man took such an affectionate leave of\nme that I asked him if he felt ill. \"Not yet, ma'am, but I have got to\nhave a bath to-night, and the last one I took turned me so queer I was\nlaid up ten weeks in the infirmary. It does you no 'arm, ma'am, very\nlikely--I've 'eard say as the gentry is born and bred to it--but when\nthey starts a-bathing of us poor people for the first time at eighty in\nthem great long coffins full of water, no wonder our rheumatics comes on\nworse than ever. And then, ma'am, you forget as you ladies and gentlemen\n'ave a drop of something hot to keep the cold out afterwards, and I\ndon't blame you for it, but that we never gets.\"\n\nOn the whole, the old ladies keep themselves wonderfully clean and\nsmart, and the cheap drapery stores in the vicinity of the workhouse do\na great trade twice a year in violets and rosebuds at 13/4d. a dozen for\nthe adornment of bonnets; feminine instinct is not atrophied by age, and\nthe applicants know the value of a good appearance before \"the\ngentlemen.\" The old men are not so clever, and when deprived of the\nministrations of a wife they seem to have no idea of \"mackling\" for\nthemselves, and too often lapse into a fatal condition of dirt and\nhugger-mugger. Sometimes the reports are brought by daughters, nieces,\nor neighbours, or sometimes \"only the landlady\"--that abused class\nshowing often much Christian charity and generosity.\n\nSome of the old people have led such blameless lives that members of the\nC.O.S. offer to take them up and save them from the Poor Law, a\nprivilege they do not always fully appreciate.\n\n\"No, thank you, sir, I don't want to go there. I've 'eard of the Charity\nOrganization, and the questions as they ask--Mrs. Smith told me they\nsifted and sifted her case and give her nothing in the end. I'd rather\nhave a few ha'pence from you, sir.\"\n\n\"But you will be a pauper!\" said one of the Guardians, in a sepulchral\nvoice of horror.\n\n\"Oh! I don't mind that a bit, sir. My mother was left a widow and on the\nparish at forty. I'm sixty-seven, and I'd work if I could, but they\nturned me off at the laundry because the rheumatics has stiffened up my\nfingers, and I can't wash any more, and I don't see why I shouldn't come\non the parish now.\"\n\nHaving no vote, and being accustomed to be classed in the category of\n\"lunatics, criminals, and idiots,\" no wonder the term \"pauper\" conveys\nlittle opprobrium to women.\n\n\"Bother the House!\" says another spirited old laundress, who complains\nthat \"a parcel of girls\" are preferred before her. \"I'm too young to\ncome in there. I'm only seventy, and I'll wait till I'm eighty.\"\n\nOne poor old man has his relief stopped because his wife is reported as\n\"a drinking woman,\" though he is told he may still draw the money if his\nwife enters the House. \"Thank you, sir, my wife does not come into the\nworkhouse. She has a glass sometimes, but she is never the worse for\nliquor, and she's been a good wife to me. Spiteful gossip, sir. Good\nmorning!\" and he walks out, an honourable and loyal gentleman fallen on\nevil days.\n\nSometimes cold and starvation is worse than they thought, and they do\ncome in; sometimes they die. The body of an old man was lately fished\nout of the pond, and at the inquest it was stated that he had lost his\nemployment after thirty years at one place. The firm had changed hands,\nand the new manager had told him, brutally, \"he wanted no old iron\nabout.\" At seventy-five one is a drag in the labour market, and the poor\nold fellow, feeling acutely that he would only be a burden on his sons\nand his daughters, asked neither for out-relief nor indoor-relief, but\nstood his mates a drink with his last shilling, and took the old Roman\nmethod.\n\nHowever, light seems dawning through the darkness, and I think many Poor\nLaw Guardians will rest better in their beds knowing that old-age\npensions seem to have come into the sphere of practical politics.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PAUPER AND THE OLD-AGE PENSION[2]\n\n\nOn January 1st the receipt of Poor Law relief ceases to be a\ndisqualification for old-age pensions, and some interesting statistics\nhave been compiled by the _Daily Mail_ which show that only about 17 per\ncent. of old people in the workhouses are applying for their 5s. per\nweek. These are the figures for England and Wales. In the Metropolitan\narea, where rents are high, and the smallest room cannot be had under\ntwo shillings or half a crown a week, the proportion will be lower\nstill.\n\nAt first sight these figures are very disappointing, and it seems to\nsome of us who have counted so much on this reform as if we cannot\nescape from the evils of the workhouse system. But a little thought will\nshow how impossible it is for this generation of old folk to take\nadvantage of the change; the wished-for has come too late; they have\nburnt their ships, or rather their beds, sold up \"the little 'ome\"; they\nhave neither bag nor baggage, bed nor clothing. They are like snails\nwith broken shells. There is no protection against the rude world, and\nonce having made the sacrifice, few people over seventy have the pluck\nto start life afresh. It is hardly worth while; for them the bitterness\nof death is past.\n\nA committee of our Board has held three special sessions for the purpose\nof interviewing these old people, and the answer has come with wearying\nmonotony, \"No, thank you, five shillings would be no good to me. I have\nnowhere to go.\" Some have sons and daughters, but \"heavy families\" and\ncrowded rooms dry up filial piety. There is no place for the aged father\nor mother in our rack-rented city, and the old people accept their fate\nwith the quiet philosophy of the poor. The long string of human wreckage\nfiles past us, some bowed and bent with the weight of years, others\nupright and active, some with the hoary heads of the traditional\nprophets, others black-haired and keen-eyed still, for the \"high living\"\nof the workhouse, as is often remarked, preserves youth in a miraculous\nway. Some are crippled and half-blind, others suffer with deafness--an\nailment of poverty, which very naturally grows worse under inquisitive\nquestioning--and nearly all have rheumatism. A curate once told me that\nhe was summoned to a sick parishioner who was \"troubled in mind,\" and\nwanted to make his peace with Heaven, but the only sin he could remember\nwas \"the rheumatics.\" The disease seems to be a national sin.\n\nOne hears the country accents of the United Kingdom--the burr of\nNorthumbria, the correct English of East Anglia, the rough homeliness\nof Yorkshire and the Midlands, the soft accents of Devonshire and the\nWest, the precision of the foreign English of the Welsh mountains, the\npleasant ring of the Scottish tongue, the brogue of old Ireland. Few\nseem Londoners. Take any group of people, and see how few of her\nchildren London seems to bring to maturity.\n\nIt is our last meeting to-day, and we go to visit those who cannot\nattend, the sick and bed-ridden in the infirmary--a mere form, for these\nare vessels which will sail no more, sea-battered, half-derelict,\nnearing port, and for them the dawn will break in the New Jerusalem.\nSome are palsied and paralysed and half-senile, but now and again keen\nold eyes look at us from the whiteness of the ratepayers' sheets and\nregret they are \"too old to apply.\"\n\nVery ancient folk live in these wards, and their birthdays go back to\nthe tens and twenties of last century, one old lady being born in the\nhistoric year of 1815. An old man, jealous of her greater glory, says he\nis 109, but our register of age gives the comparatively recent date of\n1830. Few of them seem to have any friends or visitors. Children are\ndead, grandchildren and great-grandchildren have forgotten them; but\nthey do not complain, age mercifully deadens the faculties, though their\nterrible loneliness was once graphically written on my brain by the\nspeech of an old Irishwoman: \"I am quite alone, lady; I have no friends\nbut you and the Almighty God.\"\n\nWe have interviewed 103, and only eleven have applied for the pension.\nThe wished-for, as I have said, has come too late; but another\ngeneration will be saved from \"the House\" and will be able \"to die\noutside,\" so often the last wish of the aged.\n\nThe merciful alteration in the law will save this generation of \"outdoor\npoor.\" Old people in the late sixties have no longer been dying of\nstarvation in the terror of losing the pension through accepting poor\nrelief, and the greater independence of the State pensioner is\nheartening many. \"On the Imperial taxes,\" said an old gentleman with a\nsomewhat low standard of cleanliness, \"I can be as dirty as ever I\nlike.\"\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[2] Act amended 1911.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EVACUATION OF THE WORKHOUSE\n\n (1915)\n\n\nThe workhouse is being evacuated; the whole premises, infirmary and\nHouse, have been taken over by the War Office as a military hospital;\nafter weeks of waiting final orders have come, and to-day\nmotor-omnibuses and ambulances are carrying off the inmates to a\nneighbouring parish.\n\nOne feels how widespread and far-reaching are the sufferings caused by\nwar, and spite of this bright May sunshine one realizes that the whole\nearth is full of darkness and cruel habitations, the white blossoms of\nthe spring seem like funeral flowers, and the red tulips glow like a\nfield of blood.\n\nIt never occurred to me before that any one could have any feeling,\nexcept repugnance, towards a workhouse, but some one--I think it was the\nprisoner of Chillon--grew attached to his prison, and evidently it is\nthe same with these old folk. Old faces work painfully, tears stand in\nbright old eyes, knotted old fingers clutch ours in farewell, and some\nof the old women break down utterly and sob bitterly. On the journey\nsome of them lose all sense of control, take off their bonnets, and let\ndown their hair, obeying a human instinct of despair which scholars\nwill remember dates back to the siege of Troy. \"It's all the home I've\nknown for twenty years, and I be right sorry to go,\" says an aged man,\nas he shakes my hand.\n\nFolks live long in the workhouse, and seventy and eighty years are\nregarded as comparative youth by the older people of ninety and upwards;\nto the aged any change is upheaval; they have got used to their bed,\ntheir particular chair, their daily routine, and to have to leave the\naccustomed looms in the light of a perilous adventure. Perhaps heaviest\nof all is the sense of exile; it is a long walk to the adjoining parish,\nand bus fares will be hard to spare with bread at ninepence a quartern.\n\"I've been on the danger list and my son came every day to see me,\" says\none old lady, \"but he won't be able to get so far now.\"\n\nAlarming rumours are being spread by a pessimist much travelled in\nvagrant wards, but they are speedily contradicted by an optimist, also\nan expert in Poor Law both in theory and practice.\n\nWe try to cheer them, but our comfort is not whole-hearted; we can guess\nhow the chafing of the unaccustomed, the new discipline, the crowds of\nunfamiliar faces will jar upon the aged. We try to impress upon them the\njoy of self-sacrifice, the needs of our wounded soldiers, the patriotic\npride in giving up something for them. Oh, yes, they know all that, the\nGuardians had been and talked to them \"just like a meeting,\" they\nunderstand about the soldiers, they want to do their best for them; but\nit is hard. The workhouse is nothing if not military in its traditions;\nheroes of South Africa, of Balaclava, and the Crimea have found asylum\nin the whitewashed wards; many of the present inmates have been\nsoldiers, and there are few who have not some relatives--grandsons and\ngreat-grandsons--fighting in the trenches. One of the oldest of the\n\"grannies,\" aged ninety-three, went off smiling, proud, as she said, \"to\ndo her bit.\"\n\nThe sick are being brought down now into the ambulances--the phthisical,\nthe paralytic, the bed-ridden--blinking in the sunlight from their\nmattress-tomb, one poor woman stricken with blindness and deafness, who\nin spite of nervousness looks forward to her first motor-drive. These\nare less troubled; they are younger, and the sick hope ever for a quick\ncure, and the majority are only in for temporary illness. Then come the\nbabies, astonishingly smart and well-dressed, including the youngest\ninmate, aged but eight days.\n\nThe costumes are odd and eccentric, and in spite of misery a good deal\nof good-tempered chaff flies round. All inmates are to leave in their\nown clothes, and strange garments have been brought to the light of day,\nwhilst much concern is expressed about excellent coats and skirts\nmoth-eaten or mislaid in the course of twenty-five years. The storage of\nthe workhouse often suffers strain, and the wholesome practice of\n\"stoving\" all clothes does not improve the colours nor contribute to the\npreservation of what _modistes_ call _la ligne_. Fortunately, all\nfashions come round again, and we try to assure the women that the\nvoluminous skirts and high collars of last century are _le dernier cri_\nin Bond Street, but it is difficult for one woman to deceive another\nover the question of fashion.\n\nFor twelve hours the 'buses and ambulances have plied backwards and\nforwards, and now the last load home has started, and tired nurses and\nharassed officials wave their last good-bye, thankful the long day has\ncome at length to an end. In a few days other loads will arrive, all\nyoung these and all soldiers, many of them, perhaps, as the\nadvertisements say, belonging to the nobility and gentry. The workhouse\nhas ceased to be. From to-day it will be no longer rate-supported; the\nnurses and the whole staff draw rations and are in the pay and service\nof the War Office. As soon as possible gilt letters will announce it as\na \"Military Hospital.\"\n\nOn the table before me lies a copy of the local paper, and I read with\nsurprise the thanks of a public body for our \"offer to give up the\nworkhouse as a military hospital, and expressing appreciation of the\npatriotic action of the Guardians in the matter.\"\n\nIn my opinion we made no offer; we merely obeyed a command, and the\npeople who did a patriotic action were those who turned out of their\nhome, such as it was; but in this world credit is given where it is not\ndue, and thanks are bestowed on the wrong people. We reap where we have\nnot sown and gather where we have not strawed.\n\n\n_Printed in Great Britain by_\nUNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Workhouse Characters, by Margaret Wynne Nevinson\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCREED AND DEED\n\nA SERIES OF DISCOURSES\n\n\nBy Felix Adler\n\n\n1880\n\n\n\n\nPREFATORY NOTICE.\n\nThe lectures contained in the following pages are published by request\nof the society before which they were delivered. Those on Immortality\nand Religion have been considerably abridged and condensed. The\nremainder have been allowed to retain their original form without any\nserious modification. The First Anniversary Discourse reviews the work\nof the year, and gives a brief account of the motives which impelled the\nsociety to organize and of the general animus by which its labors are\ndirected. The Lecture entitled The Form of the Ideal foreshadows the\nconstructive purpose of the movement. The articles on The Evolution of\nHebrew Religion and Reformed Judaism from the _Popular Science Monthly\n(September_, 1876) and the _North American Review (July-August and\nSeptember-October)_ contain in the substance of several of the lectures\nof last winter's course, and are reprinted in the appendix with the\nkind consent of the editors. Rigid adherrence to the requirements of\nsystematic exposition is neither possible nor desirable in addresses of\nthe kind and has not therefore been attempted.\n\nIn giving this volume to the public I gladly embrace the opportunity of\nexpressing my sincere gratitude to those faithful and self-sacrificing\nfriends whose indefatigable labors have gone so far to win for a\nhazardous venture the promise of assured permanence and satisfactory\ndevelopment.\n\nFelix Adler.\n\nNew York, September, 1877.\n\n\n\n\nCREED AND DEED\n\n\n\n\nI. IMMORTALITY\n\n \"not by the Creed but by the Deed.\"\n\nThe Spciety which I have the privilege of addressing, has been organized\nwith the above for its motto. Some of my hearers have entirely abandoned\nthe tenets of the positive religions; others continue to hold them true,\nbut, are discouraged by the lack of spiritual force, the prominence\ngiven to mere externals, the barren formalism in the churches and\nsynagogues. We agree in believing that theology is flourishing at\nthe expense of religion. It seems to us that differences in creed are\nconstantly increasing, and will continue to multiply with the growth and\ndifferentiation of the human intellect. We perceive that every attempt\nto settle problems of faith has thus far signally failed, nor can we\nhope for better results in the future. Certainty even with regard to\nthe essential dogmas appears to us impossible. We do not therefore deny\ndogma, but prefer to remit it to the sphere of individual conviction\nwith which public associations should have no concern. Far from\nbelieving that the doctrines of religion as commonly taught are\nessential to the well being of society, we apprehend that the disputes\nconcerning the \"author of the law\" have diverted the attention of men\nfrom the law itself, and that the so-called duties toward God too often\ninterfere with the proper performance of our duties toward one another.\nIt were better to insist less upon a right belief, and more upou right\naction.\n\nIn order to find a common basis whereon good men, whether believers or\nunbelievers can unite, we look to the moral law itself, whose certainty\nrests in the universal experience of civilized Humanity. We shall\nhold questions of faith in abeyance, shall endeavor to stimulate the\nconscience and to this end shall seek to awaken an interest in the grave\nsocial problems of our day, which need nothing so much as a vigorous\nexertion of our moral energies, in order to arrive at a peaceable\nsolution. To broaden and deepen the ethical sentiment in ourselves, and\nto hold up to the sad realities of the times, the mirror of the ideal\nlife, is the object with which we set out. We do not therefore delude\nourselves with the hope that the ideal will ever be fully realized,\nbut are convinced that in aspiring to noble ends the soul will take on\nsomething of the grandeur of what it truly admires. Starting with the\nassumption that the doctrines of religion are incapable of proof,\nit behooves us to show in one or more instances the fallacy of the\narguments upon which they are commonly founded, and we shall begin with\nthe doctrine of IMMORTALITY.\n\nIn approaching our subject we are first confronted by the argument\nfrom the common consent of mankind. Like the belief in God, the hope\nof immortality is said to be implanted in every human heart, and the\nexperience of travellers is cited to show that even the most barbarous\nraces have given it expression in some form, however crude. Aside from\nthe fact that the statement, as it stands, is somewhat exaggerated, we\nwill admit that the belief in a future state is widely current among\nsavage tribes. But the value of this testimony becomes extremely\ndoubtful on closer inspection. A brief account of the origin of the\nconception of soul among our primitive ancestors, will make this plain.\n\nIf we observe a child in its sleep, some half articulate word, some cry\nor gesture occasionally reveals to us the vividness of the dreams with\nwhich the little brain is teeming. It is hardly doubtful that the child\nmistakes the visions of its dream for actual occurrences, and attaches\nthe same reality to these miasmas of the stagnant night as to the\nclear prospects of daylight reason. Even the adult sometimes finds it\ndifficult to clear his brain of the fancies which occupied it in the\nhours of sleep. And the test of large experience can alone enable him to\ndistinguish between fact and phantom. I call attention to these facts,\nbecause the phenomena of sleep and dreams seem to offer a satisfactory\nclue to the naive theories of the lower races concerning death and the\nafter life. The savage indeed is the veritable child-man. His ardent\nemotions, his crude logic, the eagerness with which he questions the how\nand wherefore of nature, and the comparative ease with which his simple\nunderstanding accepts the most fanciful solutions, all combine to place\nhim on the level of the child.\n\nAware that the body in sleep is at rest, while at the same time the\nsleeper is conscious of acting and suffering, visiting distant regions\nperhaps, conversing with friends, engaging in battle with enemies, the\nsavage reasoned that there must be a man within the man, as it were,--an\nairy counterfeit of man which leaves its grosser tenement in the night,\nand in the course of its wanderings experiences whatever the fortunes of\nthe dream may chance to be. Instances are related where the body was\nprematurely disturbed, the inner man was prevented from returning to his\nenvelope, and death resulted. The shadow cast by the human figure, an\nattenuated image of man, connected with the body and yet distinct from\nit, afforded a curious confirmation of this artless theory. The Basutos*\naffirm that a person having on one occasion incautiously approached the\nbank of a river, his shadow was seized by a crocodile, and he died in\nconsequence. The story of shadowless or soulless men has been made\nfamiliar to modern literature by Chamisso's well known tale. The\nspectral man who severs his connection with the body during sleep,\nremains concealed within it during the hours of waking, and in this\nmanner, the idea of a human soul as distinct from the body, takes its\nrise.** It is easy to see how by extending the analogy, what we call\ndeath must have appeared as only another form of sleep, and how the\ntheory of dreams gave rise to a belief in the continuance of life beyond\nthe grave. That sleep and death are twin brothers, was to the primitive\nman more than mere metaphor. As in sleep, so in death, the body is at\nrest, but as in sleep, so also in death, a shade was supposed to go\nforth capable of acting and suffering, and yearning to return to its\nformer condition. The apparitions of the deceased seen at night by the\nfriends they had left behind, were taken to be real visitations, and\ncorroborated the assumption of the continued existence of the departed.\nThe ghosts of the dead were dreaming phantoms, debarred from permanently\nreturning to their abandoned bodies.\n\n * The dream theory seems to be the one generally adopted by\n writers on primitive culture. For an extended account of\n this subject vide the works of Tylor, Lubbock and Bastian,\n from which the illustrations given in the text are taken.\n\n ** Peter Schlemihl.\n\n *** The soul was believed to be corporeal in nature, only\n more vague and shadowy than the framework of the body, and\n distinguished by greater swiftness of locomotion.\n\nThe view we have taken of the origin of the conception of soul is\ngreatly strengthened when we consider the thoroughly material character\nof the ghost's life after death. The ghost continues to be liable to\nhunger, pain, cold, as before. But the living have shut it out from\ntheir communion; in consequence it hates its former companions,\npersecutes them where it can, and wreaks its vengeance upon them when\nthey are least prepared to resist it. In a certain district of Germany\nit was believed that the dead person, when troubled by the pangs of\nhunger, begins by gnawing its shroud until that is completely devoured,\nthen rising from the grave, it stalks through the village and in the\nshape of a vampire, sits upon the children in their cradles, and sucks\ntheir blood. When sated with the hideous feast, it returns to the\nchurchyard to renew its visits on the succeeding nights. In order to\nhinder them from using their jaws, it was customary to place stones or\ncoins into the mouths of the dead before burial and the most grotesque\ndevices were resorted to, to prevent the much dreaded return of the\ndenizens of the tomb. In the middle ages the corpse was often spiked\ndown to hinder its rising. Among the Hottentots a hole was broken into\nthe wall, through which the corpse was carried from the house, and then\ncarefully covered up, it being the prevailing superstition, that the\ndead can only reenter by the same way in which they have previously made\ntheir exit. Among a certain tribe of Africa, the path from the\nhouse to the grave was strewn with thorns, in the hope that the ghost\nwould find the path too painful, and desist. As late as 1861, it\noccurred in a village in Gallicia, that the ghost of a dead peasant was\nfound to pursue the living, and the inhabitants rushing out to the grave\nfearfully mutilated the body, to prevent it from committing further\ninjury.\n\nThe same conception, from a more charitable point of view, led to the\ninstitution of regular meals for the ghosts at stated intervals. In\nNorth-eastern India, after the body has been consigned to its final\nresting-place, a friend of the deceased steps forward, and holding food\nand drink in his hand, speaks the following suggestive words, \"Take and\neat; heretofore you have eaten and drunk with us, you can do so no more;\nyou were one of us, you can be so no longer; we come no more to you;\ncome you not to us.\" In Eastern Africa, the Wanicas are accustomed to\nfill a cocoa-nut shell with rice and tembo, and place it near the grave.\nIn the Congo district, a channel is dug into the grave leading to the\nmouth of the corpse, by which means food and drink are duly conveyed.\nThe sense of decorum impels certain Turanian tribes to place not only\nfood, but even napkins, on the graves of their relatives. We cannot\nresist the temptation of quoting the following passage from Mr. Tylor's\ngraphic account of the manner in which the Chinese feast their ghostly\nvisitors. \"Some victuals are left over for any blind or feeble spirit\nwho may be late, and a pail of gruel is provided for headless souls,\nwith spoons for them to put it down their throats with. Such proceedings\nculminate in the so-called Universal Rescue, now and then celebrated,\nwhen a little house is built for the expected visitors, with separate\naccommodations, and bath rooms for male and female ghosts.\" * In the\nAlpach Valley of Tyrol, ghosts released from purgatory on the night\nof All Souls, return to the houses of the peasantry. A light is left\nburning in the dining room, and a certain cake, prepared for the\noccasion, is placed upon the table for their delectation, also a pot of\ngrease for the poor souls to anoint their wounds with.\n\n * Tylor, Primitive Culture, ii, p. 34.\n\nOccasionally, to obviate the necessity of continued attendance upon\nthe dead, a single sumptuous feast is provided immediately after their\ndemise, and this is believed to cancel their claims once for all. In\nthis manner arose the custom of funeral banquets. In England, in the\nfifteenth century, a noisy revel of three days' duration attended the\nobsequies of Sir John Paston. The so-called Irish wake originated in\nthe same way. After the first outbreaks of grief have subsided, meat and\ndrink are brought in, chiefly the latter, and what was at first intended\nfor a parting entertainment to the dead, often ends in the boisterous\nexcesses of the living.\n\nIt is here proper to remark that the savage tribes who believe in an\nafter existence, do not in many instances claim this privilege for\nthemselves alone, but share it willingly with the lower animals and even\nwith inanimate objects. Weapons, utensils, and even victuals--have their\nghostly representatives like men. When a great chief dies, his widow is\noften forced by public opinion to follow him to the grave, in order that\nthe departed brave may not be wifeless in the hereafter. But besides the\nwidow, his horse, his war-club, his girdle, his favorite trinkets are\nburied or burned with him to serve his use or vanity in spectre-land.\n\nFrom what has preceded, it must be clear that the savage's conception of\na ghost bears but a faint and distant resemblance to the idea of soul,\nas it became current in the schools of philosophy; nor can the latter\nderive support from the ignorant reasonings, the hasty inductions of\nprimitive man. On the lower levels of culture the idea of immortality\nindeed is quite unknown. If the ghost continues its shadowy existence\nafter death, it is none the less liable to come to an abrupt end, and\nthen nothing whatever of its former substance remains; it is a pale,\nfilmy thing, exposed to the inroads of the hostile elements, surrounded\nby numerous dangers, to which it may at any moment succumb. In the Tonga\nIslands only the souls of the well-born are supposed to survive at all.\nThe common people have no souls worth speaking of, and when they die,\nare completely extinguished. The ghosts of Guinea s are compelled\nto approach the bank of the terrible river of death. Some of them are\nthereupon wafted across to lead pleasant lives on the opposite side,\nothers are drowned in the stream, or beaten to atoms with a club. With\nthe Fijians it is always a matter of doubt whether a soul will succeed\nat all in maintaining its feeble existence after it has left its\nprotecting house of sinew and bone. But they open a peculiarly dismal\nprospect to wifeless souls. Nanananga, a fierce demoniac being, watches\nfor them on the shore as they approach, and dashes them to pieces upon\nthe rocks. The Greenlanders affirm that after death the soul enters\nupon a long, lone journey over a mountain full of precipitous descents,\ncovered with ice and snow. The storms howl about its path, and every\nstep is fraught with pain and danger. If any harm happens to the poor\nwanderer here, then it dies \"the other death\" from which there is no\nre-awakening.\n\nIn the theories of a future state, as devised by the lower races, we are\nat a loss to detect the germs of any more spiritual longings. Far from\nlooking forward with pleased anticipation or confidence to the world to\ncome, the barbarian shuddered as he thought of his approaching end,\nand was loath to exchange the white and sunny world for the dreary\ncompanionship of luckless shades. The life that awaited him was not in\nthe majority of instances a better or a higher life than this; not free\nfrom the limitations of sense; no larger perfecting of what is here\ndwarfed and crippled; it was lower, poorer, meaner; it was to the\npresent, what the pressed flower is to the full-blown rose; the same\nin substance, indeed, but with its beauty perished, and its joyous\nfragrance evanesced.\n\nThe argument from the common consent of mankind in truth deserves no\nserious attention.*\n\n * The doctrine of spiritual immortality is not common to the\n human race. The material life of the ghost bears no\n analogy to what we mean by the soul's continuance. The\n continuance of the ghost's existence is not an immortal\n continuance.\n\nThe argument cannot be substantiated, it would prove nothing, if it\ncould. The general concurrence of the whole human race in any form of\nerror would not make that error less erroneous, and the testimony of\nunited millions against a solitary thinker might kick the beam when\nbalanced in the scales of truth.\n\nWhen we behold an ignorant knave squandering his ill-gotten gains\non superfluities, while honest people are famishing for want of the\nnecessaries; when we see the unscrupulous politician outstripping the\ndeserving statesman, in the race for fame and station; when modest merit\nshrinks in corners, and the native royalty of talent plays courtier to\nthe kings of lucre, we are reminded of the complaint of Job, that the\nbad prosper, and the righteous are down-trodden, yet that they sleep\ntogether in the dust and the worm covers them alike.\n\nThis evident disparity between virtue and happiness has led men to take\nrefuge in the thought of compensation hereafter, and the necessity of a\nfuture state in which the good shall be rewarded, and the evil punished,\naccording to the verdict of a just judge, has been deduced even from the\napparent injustice of the present. Thus the very imperfections of our\nown life on earth, afford a pretext for the most ambitious conceptions\nof human destiny.\n\nThe argument from the necessity of reward and punishment is extremely\npopular among the uneducated, since it appeals ostensibly to their sense\nof justice and assures them that by the aid of Divine omnipotence, a\nfull correspondence between worthiness and happiness, though vainly\nexpected here, will be established in another sphere. It behooves us to\nenquire whether there is anything in the nature of virtue, that demands\na correspondence of this kind.\n\nThe philosopher Epicurus was perhaps the first among the ancients to\ntake strong ground in favor of the utilitarian view of virtue. Pleasure,\nhe holds, is the purpose of existence, and virtue is thus reduced\nto enlightened self-interest. There are different kinds of pleasure;\npleasures of the senses and of the soul. Epicurus points out that the\nformer cannot be considered true pleasures, since they defeat their\nown end, blunting the capacity of enjoyment in proportion as they are\nindulged, and incapable of affording permanent satisfaction. Himself\na man of refined tastes and fastidious habits, he shrank from the very\ncoarseness of the passions, and counselled moderation, friendship and\nbenevolence. But he refused to recognize in these virtues any intrinsic\nvalue of their own, and lauded them only because in contrast to the\nlower appetites, the enjoyment they afford is lasting and constantly\nincreases with their exercise. It is easy to perceive that when the\nmoral law is thus stripped of its authority to command, the choice\nbetween duty and inclination will be governed by fortuitous preferences,\nand not by principle. It then remains for each individual to decide what\nform of pleasure may be most congenial to his temper and desires. The\nphilosopher will value the delights of contemplative ease, and of kindly\ncommunion with his fellow-men; the passionate youth may hold that a\nsingle deep draught from the chalice of sensual pleasure is worth more\nthan a whole lifetime of neutral self-restraint; \"eat and drink\" will\nbe his motto; \"remote consequences--who knows? To-morrow we may die.\"\nMoreover the doctrine of enlightened self-interest has this fatal\nobjection to it, that if consistently applied, at least among the\npowerful of the earth, it would lead to consequences the very reverse\nof moral. It is but too true that honesty is not always the best policy;\nthat fraud and violence, when perpetrated on a scale of sufficient\nmagnitude, (instance the division of unfortunate Poland,) are not always\npunished as they deserve to be. Far from teaching the tyrant to subdue\nhis baser instincts, enlightened self-interest might rather lead him to\nstifle the accusing voice of conscience, and to root out the scruples\nthat interfere with his ambition. Unless we concede that the moral law\nhas a claim upon us which the constitution of our nature does not permit\nus to deny with impunity, and that its pleasures differ, not only in\ndegree, but in kind, from all others, virtue, while a necessity to the\nweak, becomes folly in the strong; and Napoleon, that gigantic egotist,\nwas correct, when he called love a silly infatuation, and sentiment a\nthing for women.\n\nThe principles of Epicurus not only adulterate the motives of goodness\nwith the desire of reward, but they make the reward of desire the very\nsanction of all virtue, and thus deprive human nature of its best title\nto nobility.\n\nTruly disinterestedness is the distinguishing mark of every high\nendeavor. The pursuit of the artist is unselfish, the beauty he creates\nis his reward. The toil of the scientist in the pursuit of abstract\ntruth is unselfish, the truth he sees is his reward. Why should we\nhesitate to acknowledge in the domain of ethics, what we concede in the\nrealm of art and science? To say that unselfishness itself is only\nthe more refined expression of a selfish instinct, is to use the term\nselfish with a double meaning, is a mere empty play on words. We have\nthe innate need of harmony in the moral relations; this is our glory,\nand the stamp of the Divine upon our nature. We cannot demonstrate the\nexistence of disinterested motives, any more than we can demonstrate\nthat there is joy in the sunlight and freedom in the mountain breeze.\nThe fact that we _demand unselfishness_ in action alone assures us that\nthe standard of enlightened self-interest is false.\n\nAnd indeed if we consult the opinions of men, where they are least\nlikely to be warped by sophistry, we shall find that disinterestedness\nis the universal criterion by which moral worth is measured. If we\nsuspect the motive we condemn the act. If a person gives largely for\nsome object of public useful ness or charity, we do not permit the\nmunificence of the gift to deceive our judgment. Perhaps he is merely\ndesirous of vaunting his wealth, perhaps it is social standing he aims\nat, perhaps he is covetous of fame. If these suspicions prove well\nfounded, the very men who accept his bounty will in their secret hearts\ndespise him, and by a certain revulsion of feeling we shall resent his\naction all the more, because, not only is he destitute of honorable\npurpose, but he has filched the fair front of virtue, and defiled the\nlaurel even in the wearing of it.\n\nWe do not even accord the name of goodness to that easy, amiable\nsympathy which leads us to alleviate the sufferings of others, unless it\nbe guided by wise regard for their permanent welfare.\n\nThe tattered clothes, the haggard looks, the piteous pleading voice of\nthe pauper on the public highway may awaken our pity, but the system of\nindiscriminate alms-giving is justly condemned as a weakness rather than\na virtue.\n\nOn the other hand obedience to duty, when it involves pain and\nself-abnegation, seems to rise in the general estimation. Clearly\nbecause in this instance even the suspicion of interested motives is\nremoved, since hardship, injury in estate and happiness, and even the\npossible loss of life, are among the foreseen consequences of the act.\nIt is for this reason that the Book of Martyrs has become the golden\nbook of mankind, and that the story of their lives never fails to fill\nus with mingled sorrow, and admiration, and pride. They are monuments\non the field of history, milestones on the path of human progress. We\nregard them and gain new courage and confidence in our better selves.\nThe blazing pyre on the Campo Fiore, whereon Giordano Bruno breathes his\nlast, becomes a beacon-light for the truth-seeker; the dying Socrates\nstill pours benignant peace over many a sufferer's couch; the Man of\nsorrows, on Calvary, comforts the hearts of the Christian millions.\nIn the presence of these high examples the inadequacy of the selfish\nstandard becomes clearly apparent. We recognize what a sublime quality\nthat is in man which enables him, not only to triumph over torment and\nsuffering, but to devote his very self to destruction for the sake of\nhonor and truth. Freely must virtue be wooed, not for the dowry she may\nbring; by loyal devotion to her for her own sake only, can she be won!\n\nIf thus it appears that not only is there nothing in the nature of\nvirtue to warrant a claim to reward, but that it is her very nature to\ndisclaim any reward, it will become plain that the problem, as stated\nin the beginning, rests upon an entirely false foundation. That the\nunrighteous and unprincipled should enjoy temporal happiness, does not\noffend the law of justice. That you, my good sir, honest in all your\ndealings, truthful in all your acts, should be unhappy, is greatly to\nbe deplored. Why evil and unhappiness should have been allowed at all to\nenter a world created by an all good and all powerful Being may fairly\nbe asked. Why those who possess the treasure of a clear conscience\nshould not also possess the lesser goods of earth, is a question with\nwhich morality is in no wise concerned.\n\nVirtue can have no recompense, save as it is its own recompense, and\nvice can receive no real punishment save as it is its own avenger.\nThe hope of immortality, in so far as it is based upon the supposed\nnecessity of righting in a future state what is here wrong, is therefore\nuntenable, for it is based upon the assumption of a wrong which exists\nin the imagination merely. _And he who claims a reward because of his\nvirtue, has thereby forfeited his right to maintain the claim, since\nthat is not virtue, which looks for reward._\n\n*****\n\nHaving endeavored to show that the joys of earth cannot be claimed as\nthe recompense of a moral life, we must yet admit that the desire of\nhappiness is altogether too strong and deep-seated in human nature to\nbe thus summarily dismissed. We seek happiness on its own account quite\napart from any title which virtue may give us to its enjoyment. Were we\ncreated for misery? Does not the poverty and general unsatisfactoriness\nof our present condition warrant us in expecting ampler fulfilment,\npermanent bliss in an after life? I think we shall derive some\nassistance in discussing this question, by attempting to resolve the\nconception of happiness into its constituent elements.\n\nPleasure has been defined to consist in the satisfaction of any of man's\nnatural wants. The variety of our pleasures corresponds to the diversity\nof our wants.\n\nFood to the hungry, rest to the weary, are sources of pleasure. To feel\non some cold wintry day the genial warmth of true hearth fire creeping\ninto our blood, and the frozen limbs relaxing their stiffness, is\npleasure. All men admire the beautiful and delight in adornment. Even\nthe rude savage seeks to gratify his aesthetic tastes, so far as the\nmeans which nature places at his command permit. The custom of tattooing\nthe skin is widely practiced among the lower races, and stars and\ncircles, trees and plants, and other ingenious devices are impressed\nwith laborious patience upon the different members of the body. The\nchiefs of the Fiji Islanders, a nude and cannibal race, are represented\nas wearing an elaborate head-dress of three and even five feet in\ndimensions, and were accustomed to spend several hours each day, under\nthe care of the royal hair-dresser. Among civilized men the desire for\nadornment finds vent chiefly in external objects, while every coarse\nsolicitation of attention to the person is shunned. Tastily decorated\nhouses, flowers, paintings, music, gratify our sense of symmetry, and\nspread an atmosphere of culture and refinement in the vicinity of our\ndaily occupations. But there are deeper and purer joys in reserve. Man\nis eminently a social being; he has the need of sympathy and depends\nupon the affections of his fellows. The presence of cherished companions\nand friends becomes a necessity to him; in absence he yearns for it,\nand the lack of it is one of the most serious afflictions of human life.\n\"Woe unto him who, far from parents and loved kinsmen, a lonely life\nmust lead. His present joys devouring grief doth snatch. His thoughts\nare ever straying in the distance back to his father's hall, where the\nsun of life first rose upon him, and where children of the common\nhome, playfully, with gentle bonds, close and closer drew their hearts\ntogether.\"* The tranquil delight which we derive from the enlargement of\nintellect, and the exquisite inward satisfaction that results from high\nfidelity to duty, may be mentioned as the last to crown the scale of\npleasures.\n\n * Goethe, Iphigenie auf Tauris, Act I.\n\nNow, it is evident that all these elements of happiness, these diverse\nrays that nowhere melt into the perfect light, are dependent upon the\nphysical organization of man, such as it is, even for their partial\nattainment; of the lower pleasures, this is at once evident. But a\nlittle reflection will show the same to be the case with the higher. If\nwe consider the aesthetic faculty, we find its gratification conditioned\nby a physical basis. What were music without the ear; what the symmetry\nof form, without the eye and touch? The intellect, in its turn,\nfashions-the rough timber of experience, which an ever flowing stream of\nsensation carries into the workshop of the brain. Can the mind feed upon\nitself? Can the laws of thought act otherwise than upon the material\nafforded by the senses? The same is also true with respect to our moral\nqualities, and the exercise of the virtues is inconceivable beyond the\npale of human society. All virtue presupposes a tendency to err;\nthe failings and limitations of our mortal condition. Justice is the\nadjustment of limitations common to all men in such manner that their\nstress shall not bear more heavily upon one than upon the other. Love\nis the expansion of one limited nature in another and their mutual\nenrichment by such union. Charity, fortitude, continence, whatever we\napplaud in human conduct, is but an indirect testimony to the natural\nimperfections inherent in the human heart, and is accounted admirable\nonly in so far as it tends to ensure the best interests of the race on\nearth. When therefore this body is corrupted, when we depart from out\nthe fellowship of men, the gratification of the appetites, the enjoyment\nof beauty, the exercise of reason, and the practice of virtue become\nalike unthinkable.\n\nWe desire larger happiness than we can here achieve; but because we\ndesire a thing, are we therefore at all warranted in believing that\nwe shall obtain it? Is the course of the world's affairs such as to\nencourage so flattering an hypothesis? Is not the fatality that so often\nattends our best efforts in this life, an argument against, rather than\nin favor of increasing felicity in another? We should assume a wiser\nattitude as against fate. There are those who fret under disappointment,\nand murmur and rebel as if they had been defrauded of a right; as if\nthey had entered into a compact with destiny to their advantage, as if\nthe myriad worlds moved through space for their especial good. This is\nan insane spirit. We need something of the vim of stoicism to grapple\nwith the difficulties of life; we need to cultivate a larger patience;\nan humble spirit prepared for every loss, and welcoming every hour\nof joy as an unlooked for gain. There are a thousand pleasures too in\nlittle things which we, with the petulance of children, daily spurn,\nbecause we cannot have all we ask for. In every stone there is\ninstruction, in every varying aspect of the sky there is beauty,\nwherever men congregate and commune, lessons of wisdom are revealed to\nthe observer. The movement of everlasting laws quivers in the meanest\ntrifles, and the eternities, thinly veiled, look out upon us with their\nsolemn gaze from every passing mask of time. These let us study; art\nwill help us; science will open to us a wondrous chain of workings which\nthe mind cannot exhaust, and active exertions for the common weal will\ngive a generous glow to our lives, and still the unquiet yearnings which\nwe may never entirely set at rest. You have seen how the flowers grow,\nhow that many seeds are scattered and but few take root; how the germ\nslowly and with difficulty develops. The rain waters it, the warm\nsunbeam fosters it; storms sweeping over the earth, may crush it while\nit is still a young and tender shoot. At last, sometimes after years of\npreparation, it buds and opens and blooms and becomes a delight and a\nglory, a fount of fragrance, a crown of beauty. A few days pass and\nit droops; what the long process of time has slowly created, a single\nmoment may suffice to destroy; and yet though its time was brief, the\nflower fulfilled its nature only in that passing bloom; all the previous\nstages of its existence had a meaning only as they led up to this, the\nfinal revelation of its purpose.\n\nThe bloom of human life is morality; whatever else we may possess,\nhealth, and wealth, power, grace, knowledge, have a value only as they\nlead up to this; have a meaning only as they make this possible. Nor\nshould we complain that the blight of death so quickly withers what the\ncourse of threescore years has scarce sufficed to produce. In the hour\nof our destruction, we will lift up our hearts in triumph--we have\nblossomed! We have blossomed!\n\nBut it will be said, that the flower when it is wilted and withered\nhere, may be transplanted to fairer regions; that the soul may take\non new organs, when it has abandoned its earthly habitation, and in a\nseries of transformations of which, it is true, we can form no definite\nconception, may enter afresh upon its struggles for worthiness in other\nspheres. This is, indeed, the loftiest expression which the hope of\nimmortality has found. Unlike the arguments previously considered, it\nis unalloyed by any selfish motive, is founded upon a really exalted\nsentiment, and it is Love and Virtue themselves that here take up the\nstrain, and sing us their animating song of ceaseless progress toward\nthe good. The argument in this shape, involves the further question\nwhether the existence of an independent and indestructible soul is\nassured, and upon this point the whole problem of immortality finally\nhinges.\n\nThe question whether what we are accustomed to call the soul is a\ndistinct and indivisible entity, or merely the result of material\nprocesses, has divided mankind for more than two thousand years, and\nsome of the ablest thinkers have ranged themselves on either side. As\nearly as the fifth century B. C. the philosopher Democritus propounded\nmaterialistic doctrines among the Greeks. According to him, the soul is\na combination of smooth, round, polished and moving atoms, and to the\nmotions of these atoms the phenomena of life are to be ascribed.\n\nAmong the Romans, Lucretius advanced similar views. He took particular\npains to combat the \"vulgar fear of death,\" protesting that the prospect\nof dissolution would lose its terrors, did we not foolishly imagine\nourselves conscious of being dead, forgetting that death implies the\nentire cessation of consciousness. The followers of materialistic\nopinions among the ancients, were not a few. But during the ascendancy\nof the Christian Church, these opinions retired into the background,\nuntil in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they were revived by\nsuch men as Gassendi and La Mettrie, and others. In modern times they\nhave been widely spread.\n\nThe list of names on the opposite side is headed by Socrates, Plato,\nAristotle, and embraces the great majority of writers and public\nteachers, down to the present day.\n\nIt may appear strange that when the belief in immortality had once\nbecome current, men should have been tempted to forego its pleasing\nprospects, and even, with a certain vehemence, to urge their sceptical\nviews upon others. Let us consider for a moment, what it was that\ninduced the materialists to assume their position. The observed\ncorrespondence between mental and physical phenomena doubtless led them\nin the first instance to adopt their peculiar views.\n\nWe see in the tiny body of the new born babe, barely more than the faint\nstirrings of animal life; months pass by before it is able to form any\nclear conception of the persons and things in its vicinity, the simpler\nmental processes appearing simultaneously with the growth of the bodily\norgans. The intellect reaches its highest development in the age of\nmanhood and womanhood, when we stand in the maturity of our physical\npowers. In that middle age of life lies, with rare exceptions, the best\nwork we are destined to accomplish. Having entered upon the downward\n, our faculties gradually lose their vigor, until we sink into the\nfinal stage of drivelling old age, and become feeble in mind, as we\nare helpless in body. In this manner the close connection between our\nspiritual and material parts, is brought home forcibly, even to\nthe unreflecting; as the one enlarges so does the other: as the one\ndiminishes so does the other: together they increase, together they are\nweakened; the inference is drawn, shall it not be, that together they\nwill perish?\n\nThe phenomena of sleep and of coma seem to convey the same lesson. A\nhaze steals over our consciousness; sometimes settling into impenetrable\nnight; as the body for a time wears the semblance of death, so also\nis the mind stupefied or completely paralyzed. Hours pass by; in the\ninterval, the business of the world has gone on as before, but to us\nthere has been only a void and utter blank. And thus it is said shall\nthere be a void and a blank in the tomb; time will pass by, and we shall\nnot know it; men will move and act and we shall be none the wiser for\nit; it will be all like sleep, only that there will be no dreams.\n\nAnd again when some malignant fever seizes upon the body and corrupts\nthe currents of the blood, how do the poor disordered thoughts dance\nabout wildly, driven by the lash of the distemper; how does the use of\nstimulants besot the intellect, so that every higher power is deadened;\nhow in the wild ravings of the diseased brain, do we behold the hideous\nmockery of mind.\n\nAnd does not the grave itself testify loudly that the end is an end\nindeed; the body falls to pieces, the dust commingles with the dust, and\nnothing remains, nothing at least of which we can ever have experience.\nRight or wrong, these facts impress the mind, and their leaden weight\nserves to drag down our aspirations.\n\nIt is true, the considerations I have enumerated are based upon a mere\nsurface view of things, but the more accurate methods of science seem,\nat first sight, to confirm the general conclusions to which they lead.\nOn this point, it would be well to dwell for a moment. John Stuart Mill\nacknowledges that \"the evidence is well-nigh complete that all thought\nand feeling has some action of the bodily organism for its immediate\ncoincident and accompaniment, and that the specific variations, and\nespecially the different degrees of complication of the nervous and\ncerebral organism, correspond to differences in the development of our\nmental faculties.\"\n\nThe prodigious difficulties in the way of the study of the brain may\nlong the progress of the investigator, but for the purposes of\nour argument we are at liberty to assume whatever is within the limits\nof possible achievement. We may suppose that physiology will succeed\nso far that the brain will be accurately and completely mapped out, and\nthat the motions of the atoms upon which the thousand varying modes of\nthought and feeling depend, will be known and measured. In anticipating\nsuch results, we have reached the utmost tenable position of\nmaterialism.\n\nBut now to our surprise we discover that all this being allowed, the\nultimate question, what is soul, remains still unsolved and as insoluble\nas ever. The unvarying coincidence of certain modes of soul with certain\nmaterial processes may be within the range of proof, but what cannot be\nproven is, that these material processes explain the psychic phenomena.\n\nIf it is urged that the same difficulty presents itself in the\nexplanation of the most ordinary occurrences, this objection is based\nupon a misapprehension of the point at issue.\n\nThe scientist cannot show why heat should be convertible into motion,\nbut how it is thus transformed is easy to demonstrate, and the exact\nmechanical equivalent of heat has been calculated. But how certain\nmotions of atoms in the brain should generate, not heat, but\nconsciousness, but thought and love, is past all conception. There are\nhere two different orders of facts, having no common principle to which\nthey could both be reduced. There is an impassable gulf between them\nwhich can in nowise be bridged over.\n\nNor would it avail us to endow the atom itself with the promise and\npotency of intellect; we should thereby throw back the issue a step\nfurther, and disguise the problem whose existence it were better to\nplainly acknowledge. The broad fact of consciousness therefore remains\nunexplained and inexplicable as before. Arrived at this limit, science\nitself pauses and refuses to pass further.\n\nSome of the leading naturalists of our day have lately expressed\nthemselves clearly and tersely in this sense. The eminent physiologist\nDubois Rey-mond denies that the connection between certain motions of\ncertain atoms in the brain, and what he calls, the primal, undefinable\nand undeniable facts of consciousness, is at all conceivable.\nProfessor Tyndall in his address on \"The scope and limits of Scientific\nMaterialism,\" explains his views with similar precision.\n\nWere our minds so expanded, strengthened and illuminated as to enable\nus to see and feel the very molecules of the brain; were we capable of\nfollowing all their motions, all their groupings, all their electric\ndischarges, if such there be; and were we intimately acquainted with the\ncorresponding states of thought and feeling, we should be as far as\never from the solution of the problem. How are these physical processes\nconnected by and with the facts of consciousness? I do not think the\nmaterialist is entitled to say that his molecular groupings and\nhis molecular motions explain everything, in reality they explain\nnothing.... The problem of body and soul is as insoluble in its modern\nform as it was in the pre-scientific ages.\n\nNow since it is impossible to demonstrate that the powers of mind are a\nproduct of matter, the possibility undoubtedly remains that these powers\nmay continue to exist even after their connection with the physical\norganism has been dissolved. If all the arguments that are commonly\nadduced in support of the doctrine of a future life fall short of their\nobject, it is but just to add that every argument to the contrary is\nequally devoid of foundation. The doctrine of immortality cannot be\ndisproved. Of the nature of soul we are in absolute ignorance we know\nnothing; what is more, we can know nothing At this point we touch the\nutmost boundary of human reason, and must be content to write mystery of\nmysteries.\n\nIn the state of settled uncertainty to which we are thus reduced, the\nshape of our opinions will be determined by the bias of our natures or\nthe influence of education. The sceptic will remind us of the points\nin which we resemble all the perishable forms of nature and hold it\nimprobable that we alone should escape the universal law of dissolution.\nOthers will cling to the hope of continued life, even on the brink of\nthe grave, and the strong instinct of self preservation will give tone\nand color to their religious beliefs. Deep philosophical speculations\nare possible as to that ultimate source of being, that hidden light of\nwhich both matter and mind are diverse reflections. And here too poetry\nassumes its legitimate office. On the mists that cover the infinite\nabyss, we may project whatever images, foul or fair, we list. Science\nyou may be sure will never disturb us. Dogmatic assertion however, on\neither side is totally unwarranted: and the question of immortality (I\nthink we must sooner or later make up our minds to that) will remain an\nopen one. Certain, only, is the fact of our uncertainty.\n\nIf the conclusions to which we have thus been led, seem purely negative\nin their bearings, they are none the less capable of certain positive\napplications, which deserve our serious attention. The longing for\nimmortality has been developed into a morbid craving under the influence\nof the current religious teachings, and has become a disturbing element\nin human society. On more than one occasion it has imperilled the peace\nof nations, and the doctrines of salvation became the watchwords of\ncontending armies. The doubtful chances of eternal felicity or damnation\nbecame the one absorbing topic on which men's minds dwelt, and the wild\nhorrors of the Christian Hell have cast a gloom over many an innocent\nlife, and curtailed the scant measure of its earthly happiness. It were\nsomething gained, if by a cool and dispassionate judgment the influence\nof these dismal fantasies could be lessened, and men be freed from\ntheir slavish subjection to phantoms born of their own distempered\nimaginations.\n\nFurthermore, it follows from what we have said that the belief in\nimmortality should not be inculcated as a dogma in our schools of\nreligion, and above all that the dictates of the moral law should in no\nwise be made to depend upon it for their sanction. The moral law is\nthe common ground upon which all religious and in fact all true men may\nmeet. It is the one basis of union that remains to us amid the clashing\nantagonisms of the sects. While dogma is by its nature, open to attack,\nand its acceptance at all times a matter of choice, the principles of\nmorality have a right to demand implicit obedience, and should rest as\neverlasting verities in the human heart. Let us reflect well before we\nimperil the latter by the undue prominence which we give the former. It\nis not needful to impart to a child the whole truth, but what it learns\nshould be wholly true, and nothing should be taught it as a fundamental\nfact which it can ever in after years be led to call in question. How\noften has it occurred that when the riper reason of the man has rejected\nthe tenets of the church in which he was educated, he has been tempted\nto cast aside all the religious teachings of his youth, the moral with\nthe rest, as idle fable and deceit.\n\nAnd lastly, friends, as we do not, cannot know, it is presumably wise\nthat we should not know. The vanity of all our efforts to grasp the\ninfinite, should teach us that on this island of time whereon we live,\nlies our work. In its joys we may freely take delight; for its woes we\nshould reserve our sympathies, and in laboring to advance the progress\nof the good we must find our satisfaction.\n\nBefore closing this subject however let us recall vividly to our minds\nthat the desire for continuance after death is capable of the most\nnoble expression, and of supplying us with wholesome consolation and\ninspiriting motives to action. The individual passes, but the race\nlives! There is a law in nature that no force is ever lost. The thousand\nvarying forms that ebb and flow around us are various only to our feeble\nvision. At the core they are one, transmuted, yet the same, changing\nyet changeless, perishing to rise anew. The law of the conservation of\nenergy holds good throughout the entire domain of matter. And such a law\ntoo obtains in our spiritual life. The law of the conservation of moral\nenergy is no less an abiding truth; we are not dust merely, that returns\nto dust; we are not summer flies that bask in the sunshine of the\npassing day; we are not bounded in our influence by the narrow tenure\nof our years. Say not when the sod has closed above those who have been\ndear to you that all is gone. Say not that the grace and loveliness, and\nwisdom that once dwelt within the pallid form is breathed away like\na hollow wind. Nor yet stand idly gazing upon the cloud-land of the\nfuture, watching if you can trace perchance their shadowy lineaments\nfading into the dimness of untried worlds. The dead are not dead if we\nhave loved them truly. In our own lives we give them immortality. Let us\narise and take up the work they have left unfinished, and preserve the\ntreasures they have won, and round out the circuit of their being to the\nfullness of an ampler orbit in our own.\n\nAll the good that was in them lives in you, the germ and nucleus of\nthe better that shall be. All the evil that inhered in them shall be\ncleansed away in you and your virtues shall be the atonement for their\nsins. Thus shall the fathers live in the children, and from generation\nto generation the bond that connects the past with the future remains\nunbroken. They that have left you are not afar; their presence is near\nand real, a silent and august companionship. In the still hours of\nmeditation; under the starlit night, in the stress of action, in trials\nand temptations, you will hear their voices whispering words of cheer or\nwarning, and your deeds are their deeds and your lives are their lives.\n\nSo does the light of other days still shine in the bright hued flowers\nthat clothe our fields; so do they who are long since gathered into\nthe silent city of the dead still move about our houses, distributing\nkindness and nobleness among our lives. So does the toll of the funeral\nbell become an alarum to rouse us to more active effort and to the\nnobler service of mankind.\n\n\n\n\nII. RELIGION.\n\nThe question, Have we still a religion, propounded by David Friedrich\nStrauss some few years ago, will long engage the attention of radical\nthinkers. It is clear that to answer it satisfactorily we must\ndetermine, in the first instance, what meaning ought rightly to be\nattached to the term religion. In common parlance, it is often used with\nreference to mere externals, a religious person being one who conforms\nto the rites and usages of some particular church. On the other hand,\nevery innovation in the sphere of doctrine is branded as irreligious.\nThus Luther was deemed irreligious by the Catholics; St. Boniface by\nthe heathen Germans, Jesus by the Jews, Elijah by the servants of Baal.\nThere is not any single form, nor even a single fundamental principle\ncommon to all religions. Religion is not identical with theology. It\nis indeed often maintained that the belief in a personal God should\nbe regarded as the foundation and criterion of religion; but upon this\nassumption, two facts remain inexplicable, the existence of religion\nbefore ever the idea of a deity had arisen among men, and the existence\nof what may be termed an atheistical religion, in conscious antagonism\nto the doctrine of a personal God. Among the lower races we find men\nworshipping, sacrificing and uttering their invocations to mountains,\nfountains, rivers, rocks and stones: they know not a deity--sometimes\nthey have not even idols, and yet they certainly have, after a fashion\nof their own, a religion. Again, Buddhism, while possessing a subtle\nsystem of philosophy and an admirable code of ethics, starts with the\nproposition that there never was a creation, and in consequence, never\na creator, and yet more than four hundred millions of the earth's\ninhabitants call it their religion!\n\nThe question returns to us, What is religion? It is not creed; it is\nnot sacrifice; it is not prayer; it is not covered by the dogmas of any\nspecial form of belief; it has acted as a controlling force in all ages,\nin every zone, among all manner of men. Are we devoid of it? Of it? Of\nwhat?\n\nThe feeling which the presence of the Infinite in the thoughts of man\nawakens within him, is called, the feeling of the sublime. _The feeling\nof the sublime is the root of the religious sentiment._ It assumes\nvarious phases, and to these correspond the various religions. Let us\nendeavor to enumerate some of the most prominent.\n\nThe feeling of the sublime is awakened by the mysterious. The indefinite\ngives us our earliest presentiment of the infinite; the religion\nof mystery is fetishism. The feeling of the sublime is awakened by\nexhibitions of superhuman power. The religion of power is paganism. The\nfeeling of the sublime is evoked by vastness; the religions of vastness\nare Brahminism and Buddhism. The loftiest type of sublimity is to be\nfound in the morally infinite. Judaism, Christianity and Islam have\nsought to give it expression.*\n\n * We do not pretend that the above schedule is at all\n exhaustive. Various elements of the sublime, not mentioned\n in the text, have entered into the composition of each of\n the great religions. We have merely attempted to seize the\n more salient feature of a few leading types.\n\nLet us discuss in the first place the origin of Fetishism. There are\ncertain natural phenomena that fill us with alarm, without our being\nable to attribute the effect to any definite cause. The darkness of\nnight, the rustling of leaves, the moaning of the wind through the\nforest, the wailing cry of certain birds, and the peculiar effects of a\ngathering fog, are of this kind. I have had occasion to observe a little\nchild suddenly starting from its play with every sign of fear depicted\nupon its countenance; the spasm passed away as quickly as it had come,\nbut was repeated at various intervals, until at last the child ran up to\nme in uncontrollable alarm, and threw up its arms for protection: it was\na raw wintry day, a gusty wind blew fitfully against the windows; and\nthe dreary sound of the rattling panes could be distinctly heard in the\nstillness of the room; on closer observation I noticed that the signs\nof alarm in the child recurred with great regularity, as often as\nthis sound was repeated. In a similar way we may imagine our earliest\nancestors to have been affected by whatever was vague and mysterious in\nnature. The sense of uncertainty occasioned in this manner, gave rise in\nthe primitive man to the first conceptions of mysterious powers beyond\nhim.\n\nThe invention, or rather the discovery, of fire tended still further in\nthe same direction. To us it is barely possible to imagine life without\nthis most useful of the elements. The wild beast flees fire and fears\nit, man uses it, and it becomes the chief instrument of civilization.\nBut if we strive to picture to ourselves the state of the savage's mind\non his first acquaintance with fire and its properties we shall find\nhim utterly at a loss to account for. How will he regard this nimble,\nplayful being, so bright and yet so fearful in its ravages. Of the laws\nof chemical action he has of course no conception, but he has sometimes\nseen the lightning strike into the wood of the tree, and now from the\nsame wood he evokes the semblance of the lightning. He is twirling two\ndry sticks between his hands; of a sudden, a lambent flame shoots forth,\nseizes the wood, makes away with it, and leaves nothing but blackened\ncinders behind. Whence did it come, whither has it vanished? Here was\na new mystery; a spiritual presence, latent in trees and stones; kindly\nand beneficent at times, then again hostile and fiercely destructive.\n\nThe mystery of the preparation of fire is celebrated in the ancient\nhymns of the Vedah. We there find its birth from the friction of the\ndouble sticks described, and its properties rehearsed in reverent\nlanguage. It is invoked like any superior spirit to bless its votaries,\nand to protect them from harm. The important role ascribed to fire in\nthe sacred usages of the ancients, is well-known, and the origin of fire\nworship apparent.\n\nThe theory of dreams, to which we have referred on a previous occasion,\ncontributed in like manner, to extend the boundaries of the world of\nmystery. Convinced that he bore within himself an airy counterfeit of\nself, the savage attributed the same species of possession to things\nanimate and inanimate alike. Why should not beasts and rivers and stones\nhave their ghosts like man? Moreover, as to the ghosts of the human\ndead, no one could tell where they might take up their abode. They\nmight be anywhere and everywhere. Their countless legions surrounded\nthe living in all places. They were heard shouting in the echo among\nthe hills; they were seen to ride past on the midnight gale. Often\nthey assumed the shape of birds and reptiles and beasts of prey. Those\ncreatures were singled out with a preference, whose movements and habits\nsuggested the idea of mystery. Thus the owl was supposed to harbor an\nevil spirit, and the serpent was worshipped because of its stealthy,\ngliding motion, its venomous bite, and the fascination in its eye.\nSerpent worship existed the world over. Traces of it are preserved in\nthe literature of the Greeks and Romans, and it was practised even among\nthe Hebrews, as the Books of Kings attest. Among certain African tribes\nit is still customary to keep huge serpents in temples, and priests are\ndedicated to their service. Powerful animals also, such as the bear,\nthe lion and the tiger, were sometimes supposed to contain the ghosts of\ndeparted chieftains, and were revered accordingly.\n\nIf we remember the unfriendly relations supposed to subsist between the\nliving and the dead, we may conceive the state of alarm in which our\nprimitive ancestors must have passed their lives on beholding themselves\nthus beset on every side, with ghosts or demons in disguise. A thousand\nfabulous terrors haunted their imagination. Wherever they turned they\nsuspected lurking foes; spirits were in the earth, in the air, in birds,\nin animals, in reptiles, in trees. They could not move a step without\ninfringing on the boundaries of the spirit realm. Every object the least\nextraordinary in size, or shape, or color, appeared to them the token of\nsome demon's presence, and was worshipped in consequence, not on its own\naccount, but because of the mystery which it suggested.\n\nIn this manner Fetishism arose. The fetish worshipper leaves his hut in\nthe morning, sees some bright pebble glistening on his path, lifts it\nfrom the ground and says, this shall be my fetish. If he succeeds in the\nbusiness of the day, he places the little object in a shrine, gilds it,\nbrings it food, addresses his prayers to it; if it fails, it is cast\naside. Again, if after a little time the fetish ceases to fulfil his\nwishes, he breaks it and drags it in the mire by way of punishment.\n\nSuch are a few of the gross and grotesque conceptions to which the\nreligion of mystery has given birth. It is true, to the educated mind\nof the present day they will appear the very reverse of sublime. But\ngreatness is relative, and our own loftier conceptions of the sublime\nare but the slow result of a long process of growth and development.\n\n\nTHE RELIGION OF POWER\n\nIt has often been said that fear is the beginning of religion; a\nstatement of this kind however, cannot be accepted, without serious\nqualification. There is a sense of kinship with the great, in whatever\nform it may appear, of which even the meanest are susceptible. A nation\nworships the hero who ruins it; and slaves will take a certain pride in\nthe superiority of their masters. It is not fear so much as admiration\nof might which makes men servants of the mighty. The first tyrants on\nearth were, in all likelihood, strong, agile, and brave men, possessing\nin an extraordinary degree, the qualities which all others coveted. They\nwon applause, they were looked up to as natural leaders, and the arm of\nforce maintained what the esteem of their fellows had accorded in the\nfirst instance. There is a touch of the sublime even in the rudest\nadoration of force.\n\nIn the second stage of religious development, which we are now\napproaching, the theory of possession discussed in the above, was\nextended to the heavenly bodies, and the sun, moon and stars were\nendowed with the attributes of personal beings. Hence the origin of the\ngreat gods. As the sun is the most conspicuous body in the heavens,\nthe sun god figures as the central deity in every pantheon. The various\nphases through which the luminary passes are represented in distinct\npersonalities. We find gods of the rising sun and of the setting\nsun; gods of the sun of spring, summer and winter, gods also of the\ncloud-enshrouded sun, that battles with the storm giants.\n\nSince the hosts of heaven were supposed to be beings allied in nature\nto ourselves, the action and interaction of the meteoric phenomena\nwas ascribed to personal motives, and the ingenuity of the primitive\nphilosophers was exhausted in finding plausible pretexts to explain\ntheir attractions and repulsions, their seeming friendships and\nhostilities. Thus arose the quaint and fanciful myths with which the\ntraditions of antiquity abound. Those problems which the modern mind\nseeks to settle with the help of scientific investigation, the limited\nexperience of an earlier age was barely competent to attack, and it\ncovered with some pretty fiction, the difficulties which it could not\nsolve. The genealogy and biography of the sun-god formed the main theme\nof all mythologies.\n\nThe daily progress of the sun through the heavens, is described as\nfollows: Each morning the golden crowned god leaves his golden palace\nin the East, deep down below the ocean's waves; he mounts his golden\nchariot, drawn by fiery steeds. A rosy fingered maiden opens the purple\ngate of day, upward rush the steeds through blinding mist along the\nsteep ascent of heaven, down they plunge at evening into the cooling\nwaters of the sea; the naiads await the deity and bear him backward to\nhis orient home.\n\nAgain the fair youth Adonis is said to come out of the forest, where\nnymphs had nurtured him. Venus and he hunt in joyous company through\nwood and dale. One day Adonis is slain; the blood that trickled from\nhis wounds has turned the roses red, and the tender anemones have sprung\nfrom the tears that love wept when she beheld his fall. The young god\nwho comes out of the forest is Spring; for a time he disports joyously\non earth, with love for his companion, but his term of life is quickly\nended. Spring dies, but ever returns anew. Among the Syrian women it\nwas customary for a long period to observe the festival of the Adoneiah;\nwith every sign of grief they first bemoaned the god's untimely death;\nthey beat their breasts, cut off the rich luxuriance of their hair;\nshowed upon his effigy the marks of the wounds he had received; bound\nhim with linen bands, anointed him with costly oil and spices, and then\nburied him. On the seventh day the cry was heard, Adonis lives, Adonis\nis resurrected from the grave. The story of a young god typical of the\nSpring who suffers a premature death, and after a time resurrects from\nthe grave is well known in the mythologies of other nations.\n\nThe progress of the sun through the seasons is thus personified. The\nrays of the sun are described as the locks of the sun-god's hair. When\nthe sun's heat waxes, these locks increase in abundance, when it wanes\nthey diminish, until in mid-winter the head of the sun-god is entirely\nbald. At this season the god is supposed to be exceedingly weak, and his\neye, bright in the summer, is now become blind. He is far from his home,\nand subject to the power of his enemies, the wintry storms. These traits\nrecur in the familiar Hebrew myth of Samson. The word Samson means sun;\nhe is bound with ropes, as is also the sun-god among the Polynesians.\nThe secret of his strength is in his hair. Shorn of this the giant\nbecomes feeble as a child, and is blinded by his foes.\n\nBut it is the sun in its conflict with the demons of the storm, the sun\nas a warrior and a hero, that chiefly attracts the _religious_ reverence\nof the heroic age. In nature there is no more striking exhibition of\npower than is revealed in the phenomena of the thunder-storm. Even to us\nit has not lost its sublimity, and a sense of awe overcomes us whenever\nthe mighty spectacle is enacted in the heavens. Primitive man had a far\ndeeper interest in the issue of the tempest than we are now capable of\nappreciating. To him the clouds appeared to be ferocious monsters, and\nwhen they crowded about the central luminary, he feared that they might\nquench its light in everlasting darkness. The very existence of the\nuniverse seemed to be threatened. The sun-god, the true friend of man,\nhowever arises to wage war against the demons: a terrific uproar follows\nand the contending forces meet. Do you hear Thor's far-sounding\nhammer, Jove's bolt falling in the thunder clap: do you see Indra's\nlightning-spear flashing across the sky, and piercing the sides of the\nstorm dragon? The light triumphs; the tempest rolls away, but presently\nreturns to be again defeated. In this way arose the transparent stories\nof Jupiter's conflict with Typhon, his precipitate flight, and his final\nvictory; the story of Indra's warfare against the writhing serpent,\nVritra, and numerous others that might be mentioned. It is the sun-god\nwho flashes the lightning and hurls the thunder. To him men owe the\nmaintenance of the order of existence. He is the mightiest of the gods.\nFighting their battles on high, he is invoked by the warriors to aid\nthem in their earthly-conflicts; he takes precedence of all the other\ndeities; he the strongest god is raised to the throne of the celestial\nstate.\n\nNow if we study the history of these deities, their intercourse among\nthemselves and with men, we find them to be no more than colossal images\nof ourselves cast on the mists of the unknown. It is our face and form\nthat Jupiter wears; the echo of our wishes comes back to us in his\noracles. \"If horses and cows could draw their gods,\" an ancient\nphilosopher has pointedly said, \"as horses and cows would they draw\nthem.\" The gods share our passions, the good and the evil, distinguished\nonly in this, that what we feebly attempt, they can execute on a scale\nof gigantic magnitude. They love and bless and shower a thousand gifts\nupon their worshippers; but they can hate also; are vain, vindictive,\ncruel.\n\nThe gods demand tribute. Like the kings of earth, they received the best\nshare of the spoils of war and of the chase; and gold and silver also\nwas deposited in their sanctuaries. Perfumed incense and dainty cakes\nwere placed upon their altars. The gods are hungry, they must be fed.\nThe gods are thirsty, and certain strong narcotic beverages were brewed\nespecially for their benefit. For this among the Hindoos the juice of\nthe soma plant was mixed with pure milk.\n\nThe gods demand blood. The wide prevalence of human sacrifice is the\nsaddest fact that stains the annals of religious history. Among the\nFijians the new boat of the chieftain was not permitted to venture upon\nthe waves until it had been washed with human blood, in order to secure\nit against shipwreck. Among the Khonds of India, we learn that the body\nof a human victim was literally torn in pieces and his blood mixed\nwith the new turned clod, in order to insure a plentiful harvest. It is\nestimated that at least twenty-five hundred human beings were annually\nsacrificed in the temples of Mexico. Human sacrifice was known among\nthe Greeks, and its practice among the Hebrews is recorded in the Hebrew\nBible.\n\nWhen the manners of men ameliorated, and gentler customs began to\nsupplant the barbarous usages of an earlier day, the tyranny of the\ngods was still feared, but various modes of substitution were adopted\nto appease their jealousy of human happiness. In India we are told, that\nthe god of light being displeased with the constant effusion of blood,\ncommanded a buffalo to appear from out the jungle, and a voice was heard\nsaying, sacrifice the buffalo and liberate the man.\n\nAnother mode of substitution was to give a part for the whole. Some one\nmember of the body was mutilated or curtailed in order to indicate that\nthe person's life was in reality forfeit to the god. Among certain of\nthe aboriginal tribes of America, the youth, on reaching the years of\nmaturity, was forced to place his hand upon a buffalo's skull, and one\nor more joints of the finger were then cut off and dedicated to the\ngreat spirit. There were other modes of mutilation of which I dare not\nspeak, but I will briefly add that the so-called rite of the covenant,\nwhich is practised among the Jews even at the present day, rose in\nexactly the same manner. Of course the original signification of the\ncustom has been forgotten and a purely symbolical mean-ing has been\nattached to it. Nevertheless, its continuance is a disgrace to religion.\nThe grounds of sanity on which it is urged, are not in themselves\ntenable, and if they were, religion would have no concern with them. It\nis but a fresh instance of the stubborn vitality which seems to inhere\nin the hoary superstitions of the past.\n\nOccasionally, when a whole people was threatened with destruction, some\nprominent and beloved individual was selected for sacrifice, in order\nthat by his death he might save the rest. The same feature was also\nintroduced into the legends of the gods. Philo tells us that the great\nGod El whom the Hebrews and Phoenicians worshiped, once descended to\nearth, and became a king. This El was the supreme deity. He had an only\nson whom he loved. One day when great dangers threatened his people,\nthe god determined to sacrifice his only begotten (--Greek--) son and\nto redeem his people: and year by year thereafter a solemn festival was\ncelebrated in Phoenicia in honor of that great sacrifice.\n\nThe religion of force has left its dark traces in the history of\nmankind. Even the higher religions accepted, while they spiritualized,\nits degrading conceptions into their systems. Slowly only and with the\ngeneral spread of intelligence and morality, can we hope that its last\nvestiges will be purged from the minds of men.\n\nVastness is an element of the sublime. In the religious conceptions of\nthe Hindoos we find it illustrated. It entered alike into the system of\nthe Brahmin and of the Buddhist, and determined their tone and quality.\nA certain fondness for the gigantic, is peculiar to Hindoo character.\nWitness the almost boundless periods of their ancient chronology;\nthe colossal forms with which the remains of their monuments and\narchitecture abound. A great Aryan nation having advanced from the\nwaters of the Indus to the shores of the sacred Ganges and having\nsubdued the natives by the force of superior numbers or bravery,\nhad learned to forget the active pursuits of war, and yielded to the\nlassitude engendered by the climate of their new settlements. Around\nthem they beheld a rich and luxuriant vegetation; birds of rare and\nmany plumage, stately trees rising from interminable jungles.\nRavishing perfumes lulled their senses as they reposed in the shade of\nthese fairy-like forests. It was a land suited to dreamy contemplation.\nHere the philosophic priests might dwell upon the vastness of the\nUniversal, and the imagination bewildered by the ever shifting phenomena\nof the scene might well seek some principle of unity which could connect\nand explain the whole. Brahma was the name they gave to the pervading\nSpirit of All things. From Brahma the entire order of existence has\nemanated; the elements of material things, plants, birds, beasts and\nmen. The lower castes came forth first and are nearest the brutes;\nthe castes of free-born workmen, and of warriors next, the priests and\nsaints last, in whom the world's soul found its loftiest expression.\n\nTo Brahma all things must return. Passing through an endless series of\ntransformations, and paying in the long and painful interval the penalty\nof every crime it has committed, the migrating spirit of man is led back\nat last to its primal source, and is resolved in the Brahma whence it\narose. The connection between individual and universal life was thus\nkept constantly in view. The soul in the course of its wanderings might\npass through every conceivable mode of existence; might assume the\nshape of creeping plants and worms, and wild animals; might rise to the\npossession of miraculous powers in the heavens of the Rishis, while its\nfinal destiny was to be reunited with the One and All.\n\nThe Buddhist Nirvana resembles the Brahma in being accounted the\nultimate principle of the world. When in the sixth century B. C. the\nroyal Hermit of the Cakyas revolted against the cruel despotism of the\npriesthood, the legend relates that the sight of suffering in the forms\nof sickness, old age and death, roused him from a life of indolent\npleasure, and impelled him to seek a remedy for the ills of human life.\nHis counsels were sweet and kindly; he taught self-control and wise\nmoderation in the indulgence of the passions, and brotherly help and\nsympathy to lessen the evils which foresight cannot avert. He lifted\nthe degraded masses of the Indian land from out their dull despair; he\nwarred against the distinctions of caste, he took women and slaves for\nhis companions, he was a prophet of the people, whom the people loved.\nBut even to him the ills of this mortal condition seemed little when\ncompared with the endless possibilities of future ill that awaited\nthe soul in the course of its ceaseless transmigrations. He yearned to\nshorten its weary path to the goal; and the mystic methods by which he\nsought to enter Nirvana were a means adapted to this end. Nirvana is\nthe beginning and the end of things. Nirvana in which there is neither\naction nor feeling; in which intelligence and consciousness are\nsubmerged, appeared to this pessimist preacher the last, the only\nreality. Life is a delusion, real only in its pains: the entire\ncessation of conscious existence, is the solution he offers to human\nsuffering.\n\nNirvana is the universal--its conception is vast and dim; it hovers in\nthe distance before the pilgrim of the earth; there will he find rest.\n\nUnlike the Western nations, the Hindoos regarded the idea of immortality\nwith dread and terror, rather than pleased anticipation. The highest\npromises of their religion, were intended to assure them that they would\ncease to continue as individual beings or cease to continue altogether.\nPeace in the tomb when this present toil is over seemed to them the\nmost desirable of goods, and a dreamless sleep from which no angel trump\nshould ever wake the sleeper.\n\n\"Two things,\" says Kant, \"fill the soul with ever new and increasing\nadmiration and reverence; the star-lit heavens above me, and the moral\nlaw within me.\"*\n\n * Kant's Works (Rosenkranz edition) vol. viii. p. 312.\n\nThe Hebrews were the first to lend to the moral ideas a controlling\ninfluence in the sphere of religion. Let me attempt to briefly sketch\nthe origin of Monotheism amongst them, as numerous considerations\nelsewhere recited in detail, have led me to conceive of it. The\nreligions of the Semitic nations who surrounded ancient Israel were\nintensely emotional in character, and their gods were gods of pleasure\nand pain. In the temples unbounded license alternated with self\nsacrificing asceticism. The lewd rites of the goddess of love must\nbe regarded as typical of the one; the slaughter of sons in honor of\nMoloch, of the other. Now the Hebrews have been distinguished for the\npurity of their home life from a very early period of their history. The\nhigh value which they set on male offspring, the jealous vigilance with\nwhich they guarded the virtue of their women are alike illustrated in\nthe narratives of the Bible. The more gifted and noble minded among\nthem, beholding their domestic feelings outraged by the prevailing\nreligions, rebelled against the gross conceptions of idolatry. How could\nthey offer up their beloved sons for sacrifice, how could they give\nover their wives and daughters to shame? The controlling force of their\ncharacter determined the doctrines of their creed. Judaism became, so to\nspeak, a family religion. Jehovah is conceived of as the husband of\nthe people. Israel shall be his true and loyal spouse, the children\nof Israel are His children. The image of Jehovah is that of the ideal\npatriarch. Like the patriarch, he is the head of the spiritual family\nof man. Like the patriarch in ancient times, he is the lawgiver and\nthe judge; He is the guardian of domestic purity. The word for false\nreligion in Hebrew signifies fornication. \"Contend against your mother,\"\nsays Jehovah, \"for I am not her spouse, nor she my wife.\" \"My people\nlust after false gods, for the spirit of impurity has seduced them.\" And\nthe day of the triumph of the true religion is thus predicted: \"On that\nday thou shalt not call me any more my Baal, (paramour) but thou shalt\ncall me my husband, and I shall wed thee in justice, etc.\" Thus the idea\nof Jehovah sprang from the soil of the family, and the conception of a\ndivine father in heaven was derived from the analogy of the noblest of\nmoral institutions on earth. The spiritual God of the Hebrews was the\npersonification of the moral Ideal.\n\nLike his relations to the chosen people and to mankind in general,\nthe relations of the Deity to the external world were described in\naccordance with the demands of the Ethical Law. Two things morality\ninsists upon; first, that the natural in its coarser acceptation shall\nbe subordinate to the moral. Secondly, that in the scale of values\nitself shall occupy the highest rank, and that the purpose human life on\nearth can only be a moral purpose. As the mechanism of nature is not of\nitself calculated to harmonize with the purposes of spirit, it behooves\nthat the spiritual God shall possess a power over matter adequate to\nenforce the claims of the moral ideal, such power as only the creator\ncan exert over his creatures. Hence the doctrine of the creation. And\nagain the state of perfection to which the human heart aspires can only\nbe attained through the instrumentality of supreme wisdom, power and\nlove, in a millennial age when the scheme of the universe will be\nperfected in the reign of absolute justice and peace. Hence the doctrine\nof the Messiah. Both doctrines are the typical expression of a moral\nneed.\n\nIn the opening of Genesis we read a description of the making of the\nworld. All was wild vast chaos, and darkness brooded over the abyss,\nwhen the Spirit of Jehovah breathed on the waters; a single word of\ncommand and light penetrated the gloom, the waters divided, the great\nluminaries started forth on their course; the earth clothed herself in\nverdure, and the forms of living beings sprang into existence. The words\n\"God saw everything he had made and behold it was very good,\" contain\nthe gist of the narrative. In Zephaniah and Isaiah we read: \"On that day\nI will turn to the people a pure language that they may all call upon\nthe name of the Lord to serve him with one consent.\" \"No one shall then\ndo evil, no one hurt in all my holy mountain, for the earth shall be\nfull of the knowledge of God as the waters cover the sea.\"\n\nThese visions are not true in the sense of historical occurrences past\nor future. That the world was ever created out of nothing, what human\nunderstanding can conceive of it? That a time will come when society\nshall be so transformed that the pure language of love alone shall be\nspoken, who that is instructed in the failings of our finite nature can\ncredit it? They are true in the sense of ideals; true, with the truth\nof poetry, bodying forth in concrete shape the universal yearnings of\nmankind.\n\nThere is also another element of belief associated with the doctrine of\nthe Messiah, which still more plainly illustrates the typical value of\nreligious tenets. In the coming week the churches throughout Christendom\nwill rehearse the story of the passion and the death of their founder.\nMournful chants and lamentations will recall every circumstance of the\ndark drama that closed on Calvary. That tale of harrowing agony still\nmoves the hearts of millions as though it were a tale of yesterday. It\nis the symbol of the suffering and the crucifixion of the whole human\nrace. \"Ah, but our griefs he has borne, our sorrows he has carried, he\nwas wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities.\"\nHundreds of years before the birth of Christ, the author of these lines\ntranscribed in them the sad experience of the reformers of his day. He\ndoes not refer to any one Messiah; he speaks of that legacy of sacrifice\nwhich is the heritage of the great and good, the world over. For who can\nhelp us when we are plunged in deepest anguish, when it seems as though\nwe must sink under the load of trouble, but one who has endured like\ntrials, endured and triumphed over them? It is the martyrdom of the pure\nthat has redeemed mankind from guilt and sin? There is this constant\natonement of the strong for the weak, of the good for the evil. As old\nPaul Gerhard has it in his seventeenth century hymn:\n\n \"When utmost dread shall seize me,\n That human heart can know,\n Do thou from pain release me,\n By thy great pain and woe.\"\n\nThe teachings of religion then have their source in the aspirations\nof the human heart; are the echoes of our wishes and our hopes. Not\nvalueless on that account, but valuable only in so far as they express\nin noble types, noble aspirations of our souls. It were sad indeed if\nmorality depended upon the certainty of dogma. On the contrary it\nis true that all that is best and grandest in dogma, is due to the\ninspiration of the moral law in man. The time will come when the tenets\nof faith will no longer be narrowly understood as now; and while\ntheir influence will still be great, they will cease to be harmful\nand confining. They will be used as rare imagery, to deck the sublime\nmeanings which they symbolize; not as vessels that contain the absolute\ntruth, but as choice and beautiful vases, fit to hold the ever fresh and\never blooming flowers of the ideal.\n\nThe dogmatic assertion of religious teachings we hold to be a serious\nevil, and dogma as such we cannot accept. Its influence in the past has\nbeen pernicious, and is so at the present day no less. It has inflamed\nthe hatred of man against his brother man, it has led to the fatal error\nof duties toward a personal Creator, distinct from our duties toward our\nfellows: it has perverted the moral sense, by giving to the concern of\nfuture salvation, a degree of prominence before which the interests\nof the present life sink into comparative insignificance; it does not\nafford us a common basis whereon we could unite, for it is by nature\nuncertain and calculated to provoke dissensions. On the other hand we\nbehold in conscience the root of whatever good religion has achieved,\nand the law of conscience must suffice to guide and elevate our lives.\nTo refresh the moral sentiment is the one thing needful in our time, and\nindeed presents a task on whose accomplishment the highest interests of\nsociety depend. Time will show that a simple appeal to duty will surely\nsuffice to lead men to more earnest exertions toward the good. Time will\nshow that those who know no other mode of salvation than the salvation\nwhich is attained by works of love, will be at least as active in the\npursuit of virtue as those who put their trust in faith.\n\nThe gold of morality has been variously coined in the world's religious\nsystems. Various have been the symbols that were stamped thereon, and\nvarious the images of the King in whose name it was issued, but\ntheir value so far as they had value was in the moral gold that they\ncontained, and in naught else. Let Liberalism stamp its coin with the\nEagle of Liberty only, in its ethical teachings it will still retain the\nsubstance of all religion.\n\nDogma we will keep in abeyance,--this is our point of departure, and\nthe deed superior to the creed. Be it ours to hold high the moral ideal,\nwhether we clothe it with personality or not. Be it ours to act divine\nthings, no matter how we regard divine mysteries. Be it ours to help in\nlifting up the fallen, to lend free utterance to the complaints of\nthe oppressed, to brand the social iniquities of our time, to give our\nhearts warmth and the labor of our hands to the cause of their redress,\nand to push on with whatever power we may, the progress of our race\ntoward those high and holy goals of which the dreamers dream, the\nprophets prophesy.\n\n\n\n\nIII. THE NEW IDEAL\n\nThe old religions and science are at war. With pitiless consistency\nscience directs its attack upon their vulnerable positions. The\nconception of inexorable law subverts the testimony of miracles; the\nfond belief in truths divinely revealed fails to withstand the searching\nanalysis of historical criticism; the battle of science is yet far from\nbeing won, but from our standpoint the issue cannot appear doubtful. It\nbehooves us therefore to inquire into the moral bearings of the general\nresult thus far achieved and to review what we have lost and won.\nShall we succeed thereby in allaying the sense of alarm that is wont\nto agitate the timid heart when it beholds so much that it confidently\nbelieved a part of the everlasting verities of life, sink back into the\ngulf of uncertainty and doubt?\n\nWe are standing at the portals of a new age, and new conceptions have\narisen of the purpose which we are here to accomplish and of the means\nof help we can command in the attempt to realize our destiny. These\nnew conceptions we call The New Ideal. It is the purpose of our present\ndiscourse to compare some salient features of the old and new.\n\nThe old and new Ideals agree in looking to an Infinite beyond the\nborders of experience, for it is in the nature of the ideal to lift us\nabove the merely real. They differ in the direction in which they\nseek their object, and the bias which they consequently give to men's\nthoughts and actions. Theology, perceiving the inability of reason to\nsolve the problems of the beginning and the end, yet unable to\nrestrain a desire to know what is really unknowable, has impressed the\nimagination into its service, and drawn a picture of the transcendental\nworld, conforming indeed to the analogies of man's terrestrial\nexistence, but on this account all the more adapted to answer the wishes\nof the masses of mankind. Enough for them that they feel the need of\nbelieving the picture true. We of the New School are, if possible,\neven more profoundly convinced of the limitations of human reason. We\ncheerfully accord to the religious conceptions of the past a poetic\nvalue; they are poetry, often of the sublimest kind; but we cannot\ndeceive ourselves as to the noble weakness of the heart to which they\nowe their origin; we cannot forget that in their case alas the wish\nhas been father to the thought. To us the mystery is still mystery--the\nveiled arcana are not revealed, the riddle is unread. But we are not\ntherefore filled with terror or dismay. In the moral nature of man we\ndiscover a divine element. In the voice of conscience we hear the voice\nof the present divinity within us, and we learn to regard this mortal\nstate of ours as a channel through which the currents of Eternity ebb\nand flow ceaselessly. The divine nature is not far off, nor beyond the\nsea; in our own hearts on our own lips!\n\nBut let us seek to scrutinize the distinctive features of the old and\nnew more closely. The old ideal was supernatural in character, it taught\nman to regard his life on earth as a brief, temporary transit, himself\nan exile from the Kingdom on high. The concerns of the present world\nwere in consequence deemed of secondary importance, and the eye dwelt\nwith anxious preference on the dim chances of the hereafter. Where the\nhope of immortality has been prominently put forward by any religion,\nthe effect has thus but too often proved disastrous to the progress and\nsecurity of society. It is well-known by what painful penances the monks\nof the Middle Ages sought release from the trammels of the flesh,\nhow they affected to despise the ties of domestic affection, how they\nretarded the advancement of knowledge, how the passions which they\nsought in vain to suppress often recoiled upon them with fearful\nretribution, and gave rise to disorders which seriously undermined\npublic virtue.\n\nBut not only has supernaturalism tended indirectly to weaken the springs\nof virtue, it has called into being an order of men whose very existence\nis a standing menace to the freedom of intellect and the rights of\nconscience. The distance between the Creator and his creatures is so\ngreat, that the intervention of some third party is deemed necessary\nto mediate between the finite and the Infinite. The priest steps in to\nperform this office, and his influence is great in proportion to the\nvalue of the services which he is supposed to render. Furthermore it\nis believed that the personal deity requires the performance of certain\nactions in his honor, and what these actions are is again left to the\npriest to determine. In this manner the ceremonial part of religion\ngrows up, and acquires a degree of importance fatal to the moral life.\nThe duties toward God transcend the duties toward man, and but too often\nusurp their place.\n\nThe Bible likens the relations of man to God to those of a child to its\nfather. It is true supernaturalism has often proved a valuable stay to\nthose already morally strong, and it were absurd to deny that under its\nfostering care many of the noblest qualities that distinguish the filial\nrelation have been developed in the lives of religious men. It is from\nno lack of appreciation on our part that we have dwelt on the evils\nrather than the blessings it has brought. But in acknowledging that we\nhave really lost the sense of protection, the childlike trust which lend\nsuch rare beauty to the character of many ancient models of piety, we\ndeemed it important to point to the shades that darken the picture\nof the * supernatural religions, its lights are made the theme of a\nthousand discourses week after week, and are hardly in any danger of\nbeing speedily forgotten.\n\nFrom the back-ground of the old Ideal stands out in bold relief the new.\nIt is the reverse of supernatural; if it takes pride in anything, it is\nin marking a return to nature. Trammels of the flesh, contamination of the\nbody? There is nothing it tells us in itself contaminating. The body is\nnot alien to the mind, it is the seed plot from which mind flowers out\nin every part. Regard the form of man, observe the quick play of the\nfeatures, the expressive smile, the speaking glance, every attitude,\nevery gesture full of meaning, the whole body irradiated as it were,\nwith the indwelling intelligence. And so the passions too which we are\nwont to associate with our corporeal nature are but the rough material\nfrom which the artist soul behind them fashions its immortal types of\nbeauty and of holiness. There is a graceless innuendo in the term nature,\nas of something hard, gross, material. In truth, nature is the subtlest,\nmost ethereal presence of which we catch a gleam only at rare intervals,\nthe reflex of a hidden light that glimmers through the facts and motions\nof the world. Take the nature of water for instance. Is it in the\nhydrogen, in the oxygen, in the single atom? Not there, yet there!\nsomewhere hovering, imponderous, elusive. It comes nighest to the senses\nwhen the atoms act and react upon each other, in the flow of mighty\nrivers, in the leap of cataracts, in the turmoil of the sea. Or the\nnature of the tree; is it in the roots, in the trunk, in the spreading\nbranches, the leafy crown? Perhaps in the fruit more than elsewhere the\nhidden being of the tree comes forth into external reality, and opens\nto the eye and touch. In action and fruition the deeper nature appears.\nThus in the outward world, and thus in man. Our soul-life, too, is a\nflowing stream, whose power is not in any part but in the ceaseless,\nchangeful motion of the whole, that forms a strong spiritual current on\nwhich our thoughts and sentiments move like swimmers toward an infinite\nsea. And like a tree are we, with the mighty trunk of intellect, the\nspreading branches of imagination, the fibrous roots of the lower\ninstincts, that bind us to the earth. But the moral life is the fruit we\nbear; in it our true nature is revealed; in it we see the purpose of\nour being fulfilled. So when we speak of a return to nature, it is this\nhigher nature to which we refer, whose origin we know not, but whose\nworkings we feel, and know them by the token of the sweet satisfaction\nthey afford us to be the crown and glory of our lives. The old Ideal\nemphasizes the Eternal that is without us; the new the Eternal that is\nwithin ourselves. The old styles us exiles from the kingdom of truth;\nthe new summons us to be the banner-bearers of truth; the old points to\na heaven beyond the earth, the new tells us that our earth too is a part\nof the heaven, a light-world, among endless worlds of light.\n\nIf secondly we consider the means of support at our disposal in\nthe pursuit of the ideal, we find prayer in universal use among the\nadherents of the old. Prayer in the sense of supplication, has been\ndefined as \"a request made to the Deity as if he were a man.\" And truly\nthe language of prayer often tallies with this description. \"Let me\nsucceed in this undertaking,\" prays the Indian, \"that I may slay my\nenemy and bring home the tokens of victory to my dear family, in order\nthat they may rejoice together. Have pity on me and protect my life,\nand I will bring thee an offering.\" Some such inducement as the last is\nfrequently coupled with the petition, \"Here is an offering for you, O\nGod! Look kindly towards this family, let it prosper and increase, and\nlet us all be in good health.\" \"Let me come upon my enemies speedily,\nlet me find them sleeping and not awake, and let me slay a good many of\nthem.\" \"I pray for cattle, I pray for corn, I ask also for children, in\norder that this village may have a large population, and that your name\nmay never come to an end, for of old we have lived by your favor, let us\ncontinue to receive it. Remember that the increase of our produce is the\nincrease of your worship, and that its diminution must be the diminution\nof your rites.\" Among the Hindoos the efficacy ascribed to prayer was\nsuch that the gods themselves were deemed powerless to resist it, and\nthe mystic invocations of the priests exerted a fateful influence on the\ndestinies of the world. The ancient and modern literature of the Hebrews\nlikewise testifies to their faith in prayer, and Christianity has\nherein followed if not outstripped their example. In case of drought\nthe following prayer is offered in many of our churches: \"Send us, we\nbeseech thee, in this our necessity, such moderate rain and showers that\nwe may receive the fruits of the earth to our comfort and to thy honor.\"\nIn case of storms: \"We humbly beseech thee to restrain these immoderate\nrains, wherewith for our sins thou hast afflicted us, and we pray thee\nto send such seasonable weather that the earth may in due time yield her\nincrease for our benefit.\" In case of famine, \"Increase the fruits of\nthe earth by thy heavenly benediction, and grant that the scarcity\nand dearth which we now most justly suffer for our sins, through thy\ngoodness may be turned into plenty.\" In case of sickness, prayers are\noffered for the recovery of the sufferer.\n\nAgainst all these forms of petition the modern view of life emphatically\nprotests. It starts with the grandest of scientific generalizations,\nthat of the universality of nature's laws. These laws cannot be broken;\nthey govern the course of the planets as they revolve through space,\nthey appear in the slightest eddy of dust that rises on our streets. The\nworld is a Kosmos; to pray for a change in its arrangements is to pray\nfor its destruction. The rains come when they must come, and the earth\nyields or withholds her crop, as a system of causes determined from\nimmeasurable aeons of time prescribes. Is the God to whom men pray\nso poor a workman that he will change the mechanism of the Universe at\ntheir bidding? If all that is, is his work, why then the drought is\nhis work, and the famine, and the sickness are his work, and they are,\nbecause he has willed that they should be. \"The gods help them that\nhelp themselves.\" We are placed in a world with which we are but half\nacquainted; our business is to know it thoroughly. All the history of\nmankind from the beginning has been a series of tentative struggles to\nacquire this precious knowledge, and we have made indeed some headway.\nWe began by defending ourselves against the attacks of wild beasts; we\ntilled the soil; we invented tools, we formed communities, we moderated\nthe friction of social intercourse; we discovered the talisman of\nscience, and the Aladdin's lamp of art. In the treatment of disease also\na great advance has been made. When the Mayflower reached the American\ncontinent, she found a bleak and barren shore, full only of graves. A\ngreat epidemic had swept over the Indian tribes, and the natives fell\nlike dead flies before the scourge. They had charms and prayers; these\ndid not help them. We have accomplished a little; we are bound to aim\nat more. Why then call in the supernatural? It will not come, though we\ncall never so loudly. The vain attempt does but keep us from that which\nis more needful, active exertion and strenuous efforts at self-help.\nBut we are told that our success is poor at best, and that in the vast\nmajority of cases, all our exertions avail nothing: moreover it is said\nthat man is too frail and feeble a creature to depend upon himself alone\nin times of trial, and that prayer, whether it be answered or not, is\nvaluable as a means of consolation that soothes and stills the heart. It\nis but too true that our achievements fall far short of our desires. Let\nthose that do not, cannot pray, seek support in the sympathies of\ntheir kind, and where self-help fails, mutual help will offer them an\ninexhaustible source of strength and comfort. As for that species of\nprayer which is not addressed to a personal God at all, but claims to\nbe an aspiration, an outpouring of the spirit, we do fail to see how it\ndeserves the name of prayer in any sense. The use of the vocative,\nand of the pronoun thou is certainly calculated to mislead, and the\nappearance of inconsistency is hardly avoidable.\n\nLastly, the old Ideal was stationary, retrospective; it placed its\nparadise at the beginning of human history. In the far off past it\nbeheld our best and loftiest hopes anticipated and realized. Then the\nfull significance of life had been reached; then the oracles had spoken\nloudly and clearly whose faint echoes now float like memories of\nhalf forgotten melodies to our ear; then the imperishable truths were\nrevealed in those olden, golden days. Not so, says the new Ideal. Rude\nand wretched were the beginnings of mankind on earth, poor the mind, and\nvoid the heart. Far from being exemplary, the ideas of right and wrong\nentertained by our earliest progenitors were infinitely below our\nown. Not indeed, that the substance of the moral sentiment has ever\nperceptibly changed. The inherent principle of right remains the same,\nbut it assumes higher forms and is applied on a wider scale as the race\nadvances. Thus the commandment not to kill a being like ourselves was\nrecognized from the first, but in the earliest times, only members of\nthe same family were esteemed beings like ourselves; to kill a neighbor\nwas not wrong. The family widened into the clan, the clan into the\npeople, and all the nations are now embraced in the common bond of\nhumanity. Thus step by step the life of the clansman, the fellow citizen\nand at last of every human being came to be regarded as sacred. From a\ncommon centre morality has developed _outward in concentric circles_.\nIn different ages also different virtues predominated. Patriotism was\nesteemed highest in the Roman world; self-sacrifice and chastity in the\nfirst Christian communities. But whatever had thus been gained was not\nthereafter lost. Each age added its own to the stock of virtue; each\ncontributed its share to swell the treasure of mankind. The struggle for\nexistence that raged fiercely on the lower levels of culture, loses its\nharsher aspects as we advance upon the path of civilization. The methods\nof force by which the unfit were eliminated are gradually falling into\ndisrepute, if not into disuse. At last the good will survive because\nof its own persuasive excellency. The conflict will become one of ideas\nmerely, an emulous peaceful contest for the prize of truth.\n\nThat the manners of the modern world have indeed become ameliorated, our\nown brief experience as a society serves to illustrate. A few centuries\nago, such an enterprise as ours would never have been attempted, or if\nundertaken, would have been speedily crushed by the arm of authority or\nthe weight of prejudice. We will not say that bigotry is dead; the fires\nof persecution still slumber beneath their ashes, and now and then start\nup into pretty bonfires to amuse the idle crowd; but the time has\ngone by when they could mount on funeral pyres--they can kindle\nconflagrations no more.\n\nThe new Ideal is progressive. Whatever we have achieved, it tells us\nthere are larger achievements yet beyond. As we rise in the scale of\nmoral worth, the eye becomes clearer and wider of vision. We see in\nremote ages a race of men freer and stronger because of our toils, and\nthat is our dearest hope and our sweetest recompense that they shall\nreap what we have sown.\n\nThe old and the new Ideals will struggle for the mastery; that which is\nstronger will conquer as of old, in the struggle for existence. But the\nnew hope fills us with trust and gladness that that which is true will\nbe strong.\n\n\n\n\nIV. THE PRIESTS OF THE IDEAL\n\nIt is with good reason, that the very name of the priesthood, has become\nodious to the modern mind. How has their fanaticism drenched the earth\nwith blood, how has their unbridled ambition sown seeds of discord\namong the nations; how lamentable a commentary is the record of their\nfrailties upon the assumption of superior sanctity and God-given\nauthority. Yet it is not the priestly office, but its abuse, which has\nproved of evil, nor has the time yet come, when the ministry of priests\ncan be safely dispensed with. There shall come a new Ideal to attract\nmen's reverence and a new service of the Infinite and a new priesthood\nalso to do its ministry. It is of this modern priesthood, I would speak.\n\nFear not that I am about to advocate a return to that system of\nspiritual bondage, from which we have but just escaped. The priests to\nwhom we allude shall not be known by cassock or surplice. It is not\nat the altar they shall serve, least of all shall they have dogmas to\ncommunicate. They shall not be more than human, only if possible more\nhuman. Priests have we of science, we name them so; men whose whole soul\nis wrapped up in the pursuit of knowledge: priests of art, who dedicate\ntheir lives to the service of the Beautiful, priests also of the Moral,\nartists of the Good, sages in the science of Virtue, teachers of the\nIdeal.\n\nLet us consider for a moment, in order to illustrate our meaning, the\nlife of one such priest, whose fame has come down to us undimmed by the\ncorroding influence of time--the life of Socrates. He held no office, he\nministered at no shrine, yet he was in the true sense a priest. A plain\nunpretentious man, content to live on coarse fare, inured to want,\nhomely in appearance, using homely language; nothing had he in\nappearance to attract; yet the gay youths left their feasts and frolics\nwhen he approached, and the busy market-place was hushed to listen\nto the strange wisdom of his sayings; there was indeed a singular and\npotent charm in this man's soul. He had a great need of righteousness,\nwonderful, how he awakened the same need in the hearts of the Athenian\nburghers of his day. He was the reverse of dogmatic. In comparison with\nthe vastness of the unknown, he was wont to say, all human knowledge\nis little even to nothingness, he did not assume to know the truth, but\nstrove to assist men in finding truths for themselves. He had his own\nenlightened views on questions of theology. But far from desiring to\nconvert others to his convictions, he rather sought to divert their\nattention from those mysterious problems, in which men can never be\nwise, problems that are no nearer their solution today, than they were\ntwo thousand years ago. To those who questioned him concerning religion\nhe replied: Are ye then masters of the humanities, that ye seek to pry\ninto divine secrets? His father had been a fashioner of statues before\nhim, he was a fashioner of souls! This Socrates was condemned to suffer\ndeath on the charge of atheism, and met his fate with the calmness of\nthe philosophic mind. If death, he said, is progress to untried spheres,\nthen welcome death! If it is sleep only, then also welcome death and its\ndeep repose. All the tokens of the priest were fulfilled in him. He was\ntrue to himself and unbared to others the veiled truths of their own\nhigher nature. He was a loftier presence on earth, a living flame fed\nfrom its own central being, a sun to which the world turned and was\nthereby enlightened. We perceive then, that what we desire is not a new\nthing. There has been this service of the Ideal from the earliest times.\nOnly a new plea would we urge for larger fidelity to that which the best\nhave striven for, and which under new conditions it will be the glory of\nour age to approach more nearly.\n\nThe priest shall be a teacher of the \"Ideal,\" but what is the Ideal and\nhow distinguish it from the Real. Regard the trees, behold their number,\nthe wondrous plenitude of their kinds.. There is the lithe and slender\npine, the mighty oak, the stately palm, the tender willow. Alike\nyet most unlike. And who has ever seen the perfect tree! Observe the\nexpressive features of the human face. How many thousands of such faces\nare born into the world each year and yet no two alike. By what fine\nshades, what scarce perceptible curves, what delicate touches has\nnature's chisel marked them each apart. Graceful forms and lovely faces\nthere are, yet perfect none. Now the Ideal is the perfection of the\nReal. To find it we must go beyond the Realities. We study the nature of\nthe tree, of man. We note the suggestions of the various parts, complete\nand produce them in utmost harmony, each perfect in itself, each serving\nby its own perfection, the rounded symmetry of the whole. In the image\nthus created we grasp the ideal form. Art with its genial enchantments,\ncreates such images and gives them permanence in pure types of immortal\nsignificance. Art is idealism of form.\n\nThe intellect also, which looks out from behind the features, the\nindwelling man, exhibits the same twofold aspect of the Real and Ideal.\nOur real thoughts are incomplete and inadequate. We are led astray a\nthousand times by false analogies, we are decoyed into the labyrinths\nof fancy, we become the victims of impression, the toys of circumstance.\nBut deep down in the basic structure of the mind are true laws, unerring\nguides. Logic expresses them, logic is the idealism of intellect.\n\nAnd lastly we recognize the same distinction in the realm of feeling.\nTo the untutored caprice, the overmastering impulse, in brief to the\nrealism of the passions is opposed the law of right feeling, which\nethics expresses. Ethics is the idealism of character. We call this last\nthe capital revelation of man's nature. The moral law is not derivative,\nit can not be proven, it can not be denied. It is the root from which\nsprings every virtue, every grace, all wisdom and all achievement. An\nattempt has indeed been made to base morality upon a certain commonplace\nutility, but true morality scorns your sad utilities. That is useful,\nwhich serves an object besides itself, while morality is itself an end,\nand needs and admits no sanction save its own excellency. As it delights\nthe man of science to expand his judgment in ever wider and wider\ngeneralizations, as the larger thought is ever the truer thought, so is\nthere an exquisite pleasure and an unspeakable reward in expanding the\nnarrow consciousness of self in the unselfish, and the larger emotion\nis ever the nobler emotion. We speak of the moral Ideal, as The IDEAL,\nbecause it expresses the central idea of human life,# the purpose of our\nexistence on earth. To expound and illustrate its bearings on our daily\nduties, our joys, our griefs and our aspirations, is the scope and limit\nof the priestly office.\n\nThe moral ideal would embrace the whole of life. Before it nothing is\npetty or indifferent, it touches the veriest trifles and turns them into\nshining gold. We are royal by virtue of it, and like the kings in the\nfairy tale, we may never lay aside our crowns. It tells us, that nothing\nshall be for its uses only, but all things shall take their tone and\nquality from the central idea.\n\nWhen we build a house, it shall not be for its uses only. We shall have\nkitchens and drawing rooms and libraries and pictures and flowers, if\npossible. But the house, with all its comforts and luxuries, is mere\nframework, and our words and doings construct the true, the spiritual\nhome. When we sit down to table, it shall not be for the use of the\nfood and the flavor of the wine only, but morality should preside at the\nfeast and lend it grace and dignity. Morality does not mope in corners,\nis not sour nor gloomy. It loves genial fellowship, loves to convert\nour meanest wants into golden occasions for joy and sympathy and happy\ncommunion. Manners too are the offspring of character. We do not rate\nhighly the dry and cheerless conventionalisms of etiquette, but in\ntheir origin, they were the fruit of truth, and love. The rules of good\nbreeding may be reduced to two; self-possession and deference. As when\na public speaker loses his self-control, his own uncertainty is quickly\ncommunicated to his audience, and he forfeits his influence over his\nhearers; so the same cause produces the same effect in every lesser\naudience that gathers in our parlors. Society says to you: If I shall\ntrust you, you must begin by trusting yourself. The man of the world\nwill enter the palace of the prince and the cottage of the peasant with\nthe same equipoise of manner. If he respects himself, there is no\nreason why he should stand abashed. Self-possession is essentially\nself-respect. Deference, too, is a primary condition of all courtesy.\nIt teaches us to concede to others whatever we claim for ourselves; it\nleads us instinctively to avoid loudness, and self-complacency. It is\nexpressed not only in the polished phrase, but in mien, attitude, every\nmovement. Self-possession and deference of manner are both the outgrowth\nof moral qualities, the one depending on the consciousness of personal\nworth, the other inspired by an unselfish regard for the well-being of\nothers. From these two it were possible to deduce the rules of a\nnew 'Chesterfield,' which should be free from all the conceit and\naffectation of the old. Unfortunately, manners are no longer the natural\noutpouring of heart-goodness. Men attire themselves in politeness as\nthey do in rich apparel; they may be as rude as they please, the year\nround, they know they can be fine on occasion. Moreover in the home\ncircle, where the forms of courtesy are quite indispensable to prevent\nundue friction; to send the light of grace and poetry into a world of\nlittle cares; to fill the atmosphere of our daily surroundings as\nwith the fragrance of a pervading perfume; they are yet most commonly\nneglected. The word manners has the same meaning as morals. When we\nshall have better morals, we shall have truer and sweeter manners.\n\nThe Ideal which thus seeks to interpenetrate the most ordinary affairs\nof private life, stands out also in the market place, in the forum, in\nthe halls of legislation, and setting aside the merely useful, exhorts\nmen to return to permanent values. That is the ideal view of politics\nwhich teaches us to hold the idea of country superior to the utilities\nof party, to exact worthiness of the public servants, to place the\ncommon good above sectional animosities and jealousies. That is the\nideal view of commerce, which impels the merchant, while seeking\nprosperity by legitimate means, to put conscience into his wares and\ndealings and to keep ever in sight the larger purposes of human\nlife. That is the ideal view of the professions, which leads their\nrepresentatives to subordinate the claims of ambition and material gain\nto the enduring interests of science, justice, and of all the great\ntrusts that are confided to their keeping. And he therefore shall be\ncalled a priest of the Ideal, who by precept and example will divert us\nfrom the absorbing pursuit of the realities and make plain to us that\nthe real is transitory, while in the pursuit of the Ideal alone we can\nfind lasting happiness. For the realities are constantly disconcerting\nus in our search for the better. They are so powerful, so insistent; we\nthink them every thing until we have proved their attractions and find\nthem nothing. We have that only which we are. But the common judgment\nholds to the reverse; we are only what we have. And so the turbulent\ncrowd plunges madly into the race--for acres, for equipage, for\nwell-stocked larders, for office, for fame. Good things are these, as\nscales on the ladder of life, but life is somewhat more than acres and\nequipage and office and fame. Seldom indeed do we truly live. Often are\nwe but shadows of other lives. We affect the fashions not only in dress\nbut also in thought and opinion. We are good or bad, as public opinion\nbids us. The state is ruined, the church is corrupted, and the world's\ngiddy masquerade rushes heedlessly on. Give me one who will think Having\nand Seeming less than Being; who will be content to be himself and a\nlaw unto himself and in him I will revere the ideal man. Before him the\nshams and mockeries of existence shall sink away. He will look into his\nown soul and tell you the oracles he has read there, and you will hear\nand behold your own heart. He will plant the sign of the Eternal on a\nhigh standard and call unto a people that strays in the wilderness to\nlook up to that and be saved. The old and the young will he instruct,\nand they shall love him, for his words will be an articulate cry to the\ndumb voices in their own breasts. This is the be-all and end-all of his\nmission,--to make them acquainted with themselves. Do you know he will\nsay, what a power is in you, what a light is hidden in the deep recesses\nof your nature. Artists are ye all to whom your own soul is given to\nmold it into beauty. Happy, happy indeed if you seek no other reward\nbut the artist's joy in his work and know that to be your glory and your\nrecompense.\n\nIt is well, that there should be priests appointed to bear such messages\nto us from time to time as we rest from our toil; to bring us face\nto face with the inner life. But there are special occasions in these\npassing years of ours, when the ideal bearings of life come home to us\nwith peculiar force and when we require the priest to be their proper\ninterpreter.\n\nMarriage is one of them. We often hear it said that marriage is a mere\nlegal compact. The state, it is true, has a vital interest in protecting\nthe purity of the conjugal relation and may prescribe certain forms to\nwhich its citizens are bound to conform. But has the meaning of the new\nbond been indeed fully expressed, when the magistrate in the court room\nhas pronounced the young man and the maiden to be now husband and wife?\nAmong the ancient Hebrews youths and young girls were wont to meet\non the Day of Atonement, the most solemn day of the year, the day of\npurification from sin, to cement their affections and plight their\ntroth. For marriage itself was esteemed an act of purification. Marriage\nis the foundation of all morality. Its celebration does not end with the\nwedding day: it is a constant celebration, a perpetual intermarrying of\ntwo souls while life lasts.\n\nNot the state only, but humanity also, that ideal state of which we are\nall citizens, has an interest in the contract. A new sanctuary is to be\nreared sacred to the ineffable mysteries of the home-life; in the home\nwith all the tender and holy associations that cluster about it let it\nbe dedicated. The supreme festival of humanity is marriage. There shall\nbe music and joy and a white-robed bride with myrtle wreath; and solemn\nwords to express the solemn meanings of the act.\n\nAt the grave also is the office of the priest, When some dear friend has\nbeen taken from us, when the whole earth seems empty for the loss\nof one and the pillars of existence seem broken, he shall say to the\ngrieving heart: Arise, be strong. He shall bid your brooding sorrow\npause. He shall speak of larger duties, which they you mourn have left\nyou, as their legacy. Larger duties: this is his medicine. You are not\nfree, you poor and sadly stricken friends to stand aside in idle woe,\nbut you shall make for the departed a memorial in your lives and assume\ntheir half completed tasks. So the loss, though loss it be, will purify\nyou, and vim and vigor be found in the consolations of the Ideal. We\ntrust that we have used the term priest in no narrow restricted sense.\nIt is not the hierarchies of the past or the present of whom we have\nspoken. The priest is not superior to his fellow men, nor has he access\nto those transcendental regions which are closed to others. His power\nis in this, that he speaks what all feel. And he shall be counted an\nacceptable teacher, then only, when the slumbering echoes within you\nwaken to the music that moves and masters him.\n\nThere have been those, whose lives were molded on such a pattern among\nthe clergy at all times, and it is this circumstance, that has attracted\nthe reverence of mankind to the priestly office.\n\nNoble men were they whose love burst through the cramping fetters of\ntheir creeds, apostles of liberty, missionaries of humanity.\n\nBut there is one other trait necessary to complete the picture. The\npriest of the Ideal must have the gift of tongues and kingly words to\nutter kingly thoughts. In the philosophy of Alexandria it was held, that\nbefore the world was, the word was, and the word created a universe out\nof chaos and the word was divine. With that heaven-born energy must he\nbe filled, and with a breath of that creative speech must he inspire.\nNo tawdry eloquence be his, no glittering gift of phrase or fantasy, but\nwords of the soul's own language, words of the pith and core of truth.\n\nThe image of the Ideal priest which I have attempted to draw is itself\nan ideal image, nowhere realized, never to be fully attained. But it\nis to it that the priests of the new age will strive to come near and\nnearer, and that will be their pride and their happiness, if they can\nbecome in this sense friends and helpers of their kind.\n\nIn the eyes of the dogmatist they are strangers out of a strange land of\nthought. If you ask them for their pass word, it is freedom, if you ask\nfor their creed, it is boundless. The multitude seeking to compress\nthe infinite within the narrow limits of the senses, must needs have\ntangible shapes to lay hands on, names if nothing better. But the Ideal\nin the highest is void of form and its name unutterable. We will ascend\non the wings of the morning, we will let ourselves down to the uttermost\ndepths of the sea, and know it there. But chiefly within ourselves shall\nwe seek it, in ourselves is its shrine. The time will come when single\nmen shall no more be needed to do its ministry, when in the brotherhood\nand sisterhood of mankind all shall be priests and priestesses one to\nanother, for all their life shall be a song of praise to the highest,\nand their whole being shall be consecrated and glorified in the immortal\nservice of deathless Ideals.\n\n\n\n\nV. THE FORM OF THE NEW IDEAL\n\n\n\n\nA NEW ORDER.\n\nI AM aware that there exists a deep seated prejudice in the minds of\nmany of my hearers against what are called the forms of religion. We\nhave too long experienced their limitations and restraints, not to be\njealous now of our hard won liberties. But let us ask ourselves what\nit is that alienates our sympathies from the ritual and ceremonial\nobservances of the dominant creeds? Is it the forms as such? Is it not\nrather the fact that to us they have become dead forms: that they no\nlonger appeal to our sentiments, that they fail to stir, to invigorate,\nto ennoble us? We have not cast them aside lightly. Often have we\nentered the house of worship, prepared to be drawn back into the\ninfluence of its once familiar surroundings: we beheld again the great\nassembly, we heard the solemn music, we listened to the preacher as he\nstrove to impress upon a silent multitude, the lessons of the higher\nlife. But in the prayers we could not join, and the words to which\nthe music moved we could not sing, and the maxims of the preacher were\ncouched in language, and enforced with doctrinal arguments that touched\nno chord in our hearts. We left disappointed, we had received no help:\nif this were religion, we felt ourselves more distant from religion than\never before.\n\nOn the banks of the Euphrates there flourished of old an extensive\ncolony of Jews. A \"Prince of the Captivity\" revived the memory of the\nvanished glory of King David's house. High schools were erected that\nafforded a common centre to the scattered members of the Jewish Faith.\nIn these the people beheld at once their bond of connection with the\npast, and the pledge of future restoration to their patrimony. In the\nearly part of the middle ages, a prayer for the health and prosperity of\nthe presidents of the high schools was inserted into the liturgy. Well\nnigh eight hundred years have elapsed since these dignitaries, and\nthe schools themselves, have ceased to exist, yet the prayer is still\nretained, and may be heard repeated on any Sabbath in the synagogues of\nthe orthodox--a prayer for the health of the Prince and the high schools\non the Euphrates that vanished from the face of the earth eight hundred\nyears ago. Thus do religious forms continue to maintain themselves long\nafter their vitality is perished and their very meaning is forgotten.\nBut if the prevalent forms have ceased to satisfy us, can we therefore\ndispense with form altogether? If the house that has given us shelter is\nin ruins, shall we therefore live in the woods and fields, or shall we\nnot rather erect a new mansion on a broader foundation, and with firmer\nwalls? It has been the bane of liberalism, that it was simply critical\nand not constructive. Your thought must have not wings only, but hands\nand feet to walk and work, to form and reform. Liberalism must have its\norgans, must enter the race with its rivals; must not criticise only,\nbut do better. Liberalism must pass the stage of individualism, must\nbecome the soul of great combinations. What then shall be the form\nadequate to express the new Ideal?\n\nThe form of any religion is the image of its ideal. To illustrate what\nthis means, let us consider for a moment the origin of the synagogue and\nthe church.\n\nThe orthodox opinion that Judaism was revealed to Moses fourteen hundred\nyears B. C. is condemned by modern critics of the Bible. The following\nare some of the considerations that have influenced their verdict.\nFirst, we read in scripture that so late as the reign of David, idolatry\nwas still rampant among the Hebrews, and the attempt to explain this\nfact upon the theory of a relapse, is contrary to the testimony of the\nBible itself.\n\nSecondly: The name of Moses is unknown to the prophets, his ostensible\nsuccessors, a circumstance which would remain inexplicable if Moses had\nindeed been the founder of monotheism.\n\nThirdly: Large portions of the Pentateuch were probably not composed\nbefore the sixth or fifth century B. C, that is to say about a thousand\nyears after the time of Moses. The account they give of the early\nhistory of the people is therefore open to serious and just doubt. The\nprophets were the real authors of monotheism. The priestly code of the\nPentateuch does not represent the form of Judaism which they taught.\nThey are not chargeable with the technicalities and dry formalism of the\n\"Books of Moses.\" They were the avowed enemies of the priesthood and for\na long time engaged in fierce struggles with the ruling hierarchy. Their\ndoctrines were in the essence these: That there is a Creator, that he\nis just and merciful, that the same qualities in man are the most\nacceptable species of divine service, that God directs all events,\nwhether great or small; and that it is the duty of man to accept the\nguidance of the Deity, and to follow with tireless diligence the clews\nof the Divine Will. Jehovah is to be reverenced not only as a spiritual,\nbut also as a temporal sovereign, and the prophets are his ministers\ncommissioned to transmit his decrees to men. Thus Monotheism found\nexpression in the form of Theocratic government. It is true the heathen\nworld was not yet prepared to enter into so near a relationship with the\nCreator. On this account the Jews were selected to be a typical people,\nand the Kingdom of God was for the time being confined to them. It\nis evident from the above that the order of the prophets was the very\nmainstay of the Theocratic fabric. When these inspired messengers\nceased to appear, the conclusion was drawn that the Will of God had been\nfully revealed. The writings of the prophets were then collected into\nsacred books, and were regarded as the constitution of the divine\nempire. When Jerusalem was destroyed, the sacrifices were discontinued\nand Judaism was purged of many heathenish elements which had been\nallowed to mar the simplicity of the prophetic religion. The synagogue\ntook the place of the Temple, and an intricate code of ceremonies was\ngradually elaborated, intended to remind the pious Jew at all hours and\nseasons of his duties toward God, and the peculiar mission accorded to\nhis people. The synagogue was a single prominent peak in the range\nof the religious life, a rallying point for the members of the Jewish\ncommunity, a meeting house where they assembled to confirm their\nallegiance to their heavenly King.\n\nNow the cardinal point of difference between primitive Christianity and\nJudaism related to the alleged abrogation of the ancient constitution\nset forth in the old Testament. Christianity said: The Messiah has come;\nthe law of Moses is fulfilled; the King has issued a new constitution,\nand sent his own Son to put it in force. The time has arrived when the\nKingdom of God need no longer be restricted to a single people. Jesus\nwho perished on the cross will presently return, and the universal\ntheocracy will then be proclaimed. But Jesus did not return, his\nfollowers waited long and patiently, but they waited in vain. As time\nrolled on, they learned to dwell less upon the expected Millennium on\nearth, and to defer the fulfilment of their hopes to the life beyond the\ngrave. In the interval they perfected the organization of the church.\nThe Christian Ideal of the Kingdom of Heaven is that of a communion of\nall saints under the sovereignty of God through Christ. The Christian\nChurch is designed to be an image of this Ideal, a communion of saintly\nmen on earth, accepting Christ as their Master. Christianity aspired to\nbe the universal religion; there should be no barriers any more between\nman and man; the exclusiveness of ancient Judaism should be broken down;\nyet withal the barriers of a new creed soon arose in place of the old;\nthe portals of the Kingdom of Heaven were rigidly closed against all who\nrefused to bow to the despotism of dogma; and the virtues of pagans were\ndeclared to be shining vices. The moral teachings of Christ are gentle\nand kindly, but in the doctrinal contentions of the Christians the\nspirit of the Master was forgotten, and the earth was deluged with\nblood. And now the new Ideal differs from Christianity in this, that it\nseeks to approach the goal of a Kingdom of Heaven upon earth, not by the\nmiraculous interference of the Deity, but by the laborious exertions\nof men, and the slow but certain progress of successive generations. We\nhave named the form of religion an image of the Ideal, yet an image poor\nand incomplete at best, rather a symbol, a suggestion of what can never\nbe realized. In the realm of art we do not find the soul of beauty in\nthe canvas or the marble statue; these are helpful hieroglyphics\nonly, teaching those that can read their mute language to create anew\nthe ideal as it lived in the artist's soul, in the divine hour of\nconception. Thus all form has its value only in what it suggests. Our\nIdeal is that of the fellowship of humanity in highest wisdom, highest\ntruth and highest love. The form of this ideal therefore can be none\nother than a new fellowship united by the higher truths and purer love\nthat make its bond to be a symbol of the highest! We are weary of the\nunreal and untrue existence we are forced to lead; we are weary of the\nemptiness of routine, weary of the false coin of reputation that passes\ncurrent in the market of vanity fair; we are weary of the low standards\nby which actions are judged, and to which, to our dismay, we perceive\nour actions insensibly conform. But the pressure of social influences\nabout us is enormous, and no single arm can resist it. We must needs\nband together then, if we would achieve a higher life; we must create\nfor ourselves a purer atmosphere, if any rarer virtues are to flourish\nin our midst; we must make our own public opinion, to buoy us up in\nevery loftier aspiration. Unions we want that will hold, not religion\nas a duty, but duty as a religion; union to achieve a larger morality.\nThree things morality demands of us as interpreted in the light of our\npresent social conditions: greater simplicity in manners, greater purity\nin the passions, greater charity. The habit of luxurious living\nis eating into the vitals of society, is defiling the family, and\ncorrupting the state. Let me not be falsely understood. All that is\nluxury which political economists are wont to class as unproductive\nconsumption. In this sense, books, music and pictures are luxuries, and\nwho would be willing to forego them. It becomes us to the utmost of our\npowers to satisfy the thirst for knowledge, and to educate the sense of\nharmony: it is wise to expend generously upon every means of culture and\nrefinement. But this we must bear in mind, that there should be a rank\nand a proper subordination among our tastes and desires. Now that is\nluxury in the evil, in the debasing sense of the term, that we subvert\nthe natural order of our tastes, that we make the mere gratification of\nthe animal passions, the mere pursuit of wealth, the mere adornment of\nour clay, main objects, while the graces of intellect perish, and the\nadornment of the soul is neglected. Say not, we will do the one, and not\nleave undone the other; for the inordinate degree to which the meaner\npassions are developed, dulls our sense of loftier needs. We cannot\nserve these two masters. Frivolous in prosperity, we become helpless in\nadversity and perish inwardly, our growth stunted, our nobler sympathies\nblunted, long before we are bedded in our graves. What single effort can\nachieve a change? Fellowship, friends are needed, and a public opinion\non behalf of simplicity.\n\nAnd purity in the passions is needed. An ugly sore is here concealed,\na skeleton in the closet of which men speak with bated breath. Is there\nnot such a thing as sanctity of the person! Did you not rebel against\nhuman slavery because you said it was wrong that any being born in\nthe image of man should be the tool of another? And no arguments could\ndeceive you--not if the slave offered himself willingly to the yoke, and\nrejoiced in his bondage. You dared not so sin against human nature, and\naccept that offer. And yet New York has its slaves, Boston its slaves,\nand every large town on the face of the wide earth has this sinful,\noutcast army of slaves--tools, whom we have robbed of that which no\nhuman being has a right to barter, the right to virtue at least, if not\nto happiness. Call not that a law of nature, which is the lawlessness of\nnature! Say not, it has ever been thus, and ever shall be! From depths\nof vice which the imagination dare not recall, humanity has slowly risen\nto its present level, and higher and higher will it take its course when\nthe conscience is quickened and true love expands. Fellowship is needed\nto support this difficult virtue and a public opinion on behalf of\npurity.\n\nAnd charity, friends; not that which we commonly called charity; but\ncharity that prevents rather than cures. You pass through the lower\nquarters of our city, you see the misery, the filth, the gaunt, grim\npoverty, the careworn faces, the candidates for starvation. Starvation!\nwhoever hears of it? The newspapers rarely speak of it; here or there an\nexceptional case. Nay truly, these people do not starve; they die of a\ncold perhaps; the small-pox came and carried them off: diphtheria\nmakes its ravage among them. Ah, but was it not want that sapped their\nstrength, and made them powerless to resist disease? Was it not their\nlife of pinched pauperism that ripened them for the reaper's scythe?\nThen pass from these sorrowful sights to our stately Avenue. Behold\nthe gay world of fashion, its painted pomp, its gilded sinfulness, its\nheartless extravagance. Is not this an intolerable contrast? Shall we\nrest quiet under the talk of irremediable evils? Is it not true\nthat something must be done, and can be done because it must? The\ndistribution of wealth they say, is governed by economic laws, and\nsentiment has no right to be considered in affairs of business. But\nwhere I pray you is the sentiment of brotherly love considered as it\nshould be? Educate the masses! But do we educate them? Stimulate their\nself-respect and teach them self-help! But what large or effective\nmeasures are we taking to this most desirable end? You cannot help,\ngood friend, nor I. But a dozen might aid somewhat, and a thousand brave\nunselfish hearts knit together for such a purpose, who shall say what\nmighty changes they could work. Surely fellowship is needed here, and a\npublic opinion on behalf of charity.\n\nThe \"fine phrase,\" humanity has pregnant meanings. They stand for the\ngrandest, the sternest realities of the times. Purity, charity and\nsimplicity, these shall be the watchwords of a new fellowship, which\nshall practice the teachings of humanity, that are vain as the empty\nwind, if heard only and approved, but not made actual in our deeds.\n\nAnd yet some will smile incredulously and ask, where are the men and\nwomen prepared to undertake such a task? It is true, we must begin at\nthe beginning. From earliest childhood the young must be trained on\na nobler method, and in the ethical school lies the main work of\npreparation. There every step in the course of development must be\ncarefully considered, vigilantly watched and wisely directed, to the\none crowning purpose of ripening the young minds and hearts for that\nfellowship of love and hope.\n\nA new fellowship, a new order, I say boldly, whose members shall not be\nbound by any vows, which shall have no convents, no mysteries, but shall\nmake itself an exemplar of the virtues it preaches, a form of the ideal.\nThe perils that attend such organizations are great; we will not attempt\nto underrate their gravity, but we believe they can be overcome. The\nspirit of co-operation lends mighty momentum to every cause; it depends\nupon the cause itself whether the influence exerted shall be for good or\nevil. And there has been in history a single order at least of the kind\nwhich I describe: \"The brotherhood of the common life,\" it was called;\nan order composed of earnest, studious men, to whom the upheaval of\nEurope in the sixteenth century was largely due; a noble brotherhood\nthat prepared the way for the great Reformation. The Catholic orders are\ndedicated to the world to come; the order of the Ideal will be dedicated\nto the world of the living: to deepen and broaden the conscience of men\nwill be its mission.\n\nThe propaganda of Liberalism in the past has been weak and barren of\ngreat results. Strong personalities it has brought forth; around these\nsocieties have clustered and fallen asunder when the personal magnet was\nwithdrawn. What we need is institutions of which persons shall be merely\nthe exponents; institutions that must be grounded on the needs of the\npresent, and that shall last by their own vitality, to future ages and\nto the increase of future good.\n\nIt is the opening of the spring.* After its long winter sleep, the earth\nreawakens, and amid the fierce storms of the Equinox nature ushers in\nthe season of flowers and of summer's golden plenty. It is the day of\nEaster. Loudly the bells are pealing and joyous songs celebrate in the\nlegend of \"Christ risen from the grave,\" the marvel of the Resurrection.\nWhat we cannot credit of an individual, is true of the nations. After\nlong periods of seeming torpor and death, humanity ever arises anew from\nthe dust, shakes off its slumbers, and clothes itself with fresher vigor\nand diviner powers.\n\n * The above discourse was delivered on Easter Sunday, April\n 1st.\n\nLet the hope of the season animate us. Let it fill our souls with\nconfidence in our greater destinies; let it teach us to trust in them\nand to labor for them, that a new Ideal may vivify the palsied hearts\nand a new spring tide come, and a new Easter dawn arise over all\nmankind.\n\n\n\n\nVI. THE RELIGIOUS CONSERVATISM OF WOMEN.\n\nNo thoughtful person can fail to appreciate the enormous influence which\nwomen are constantly exercising for good and evil upon the destinies\nof the world. The charms and graces of existence, whatever ennobles and\nembellishes life, we owe mainly to them. They are the natural guardians\nof morality, and from age to age the mothers of households have\npreserved the sacred fire on the domestic hearth, whereat every virtue\nis kindled. But they have also been the most formidable enemies of\nprogress. Their conservatism is usually of the most unreasoning kind,\nand the tenacity with which they cling to favorite prejudices is\nrarely overcome either by argument or appeal. They have been from\ntime immemorial the dupes, the tools, and the most effective allies of\npriestcraft. Their hostility to the cause of Reform has been so fatal,\nnot only because of the direct influence of their actions, but because\nof that subtle power which they exert so skilfully over the minds of\nhusbands, brothers and friends, by the arts of remonstrance, entreaty\nand the contagion of their feeble alarms. The question whether their\nhostility can be turned into friendship, is one of momentous importance\nfor the leaders of the Liberal movement to consider.\n\nIn the following we shall endeavor to make plain that the subordinate\nposition hitherto assigned to women, is the principal cause that has\nimpelled them to take sides against religious progress.\n\nAmong the primitive races woman was reduced to a condition of abject\nslavery. Affection of the deeper kind was unknown. The wife was robbed\nor purchased from her relations; was treated as a menial by her husband,\nand often exposed to the most brutal abuse. As civilization advanced,\nthe marriage bond became more firm, and common interest in the offspring\nof the union served to create common sympathies. Among the Greeks, the\nideal of domestic life was pure and elevated. The tales of Andromache,\nPenelope and Alcestes illustrate the strength of conjugal fidelity and\nthe touching pathos of love that outlasts death. The Grecian home was\nfenced about with scrupulous care and strictest privacy protected its\ninmates from temptation. It was the duty of the wife to superintend\nthe internal economy of the household, to spin and weave, to direct the\nslaves in their various occupations, to nurse them when sick, to\nwatch over the young children, and chiefly to insure the comfort and\nsatisfaction of her lord. His cares and ambitions indeed she hardly\nshared. She never aspired to be his equal, and simple obedience to\nhis wishes was the supreme virtue impressed upon her by education, and\nenforced by habit. Among the Romans, the character of the matron is\ndescribed in the most laudatory and reverential terms. Still the laws\nof the Republic made woman practically the bondswoman of man. It is\nwell-known that our English word family is derived from the Latin\nwhere it originally means the household of slaves. The matron too, was\ncounted, at least theoretically, among these slaves, and the right of\ndeciding her fate literally for life or death, belonged exclusively to\nher husband. It is true in the cordial intimacy of the monogamic bond,\nthe austerity of usage, and the harshness of the laws are often tempered\nby affection and mutual respect; yet we are aptly reminded by a modern\nwriter on this subject, that the law which remains a dead letter to\nthe refined and cultivated becomes the instrument of the most heartless\noppression in the hands of the vulgar and the passionate.\n\nAmong the Hebrews, a position of great dignity and consequence was\nsometimes accorded to their women. The wives of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob\nplayed an important part in directing the affairs of the Patriarchal\nhouseholds. A woman performed the functions of judge and leader of\narmies, women sat upon the throne, prophetesses were consulted in grave\nmatters of the State and of religion; in the absence of sons, the\nMosaic law guarantees to daughters the right of succession to the family\nestate. The later writings of the Jews are likewise replete with noble\nsentiments touching the sanctity of the conjugal tie. Many of the\nordinances of the Talmud depend upon women for their execution, and this\ncircumstance alone must have contributed to raise them in the popular\nestimation. In every marriage contract a certain sum was set apart for\nthe wife, in case of her husband's death or of divorce. Still the right\nof dissolving the matrimonial connection belonged exclusively to the\nhusband, although under certain conditions he could be forced by the\ncourt to issue the \"writ of separation.\" However the wife might be\nhonored and loved, she was ever regarded as man's inferior.\n\nThe influence of Christianity upon the position of women, was twofold,\nand in opposite directions. On the one hand women had been among\nthe first and most devoted followers of Jesus; women were largely\ninstrumental in effecting the conversion of the Roman Empire, and in the\nlist of martyrs, their names shine preeminent. On the other hand, the\nchurch in the early centuries cast an unpardonable slur on the\nmarriage relation. We read of young maidens fleeing the society of dear\ncompanions and friends, to escape the temptation of the affections, of\nfaithful wives, filled with inexpressible loathing at a connection which\nthey deemed contrary to the dictates of religion, and deserting husbands\nand children. The desire of love was poisoned with a sense of guilt. The\ncelibacy of the clergy, finally enforced by Pope Hildebrand, gave rise\nto the most shocking irregularities. All this tended to degrade the\nfemale sex.\n\nAt the time of the crusades a partial revulsion of feeling took place.\nThe spirit of chivalry entered the church, the character of woman was\ntransfigured, and the worship of the Virgin Mary spread in consequence\nthroughout Europe. A change in the education of girls was one of the\nresults of the rise of Chivalry. Music and poetry became its chief\nelements; women were fed on intellectual sweetmeats, but strong and\nhealthy nourishment was still denied them.\n\nIn all the different stages of progress which we have thus rapidly\nscanned, the assumption of man's superiority to woman was held as an\nincontestible article of belief, and even the chivalric ideal is only a\nmore amiable and disguised expression of the same view.\n\nWhat effect the disabilities under which they labored must have had upon\nthe religious life of women will readily be perceived. There are two\nattitudes of mind peculiarly favorable to orthodoxy; the one a tendency\nto lean on authority, the other a disposition to give free sway to the\nfeelings without submitting them to the checks of reason. Now it is\nplain that the condition of dependence to which society has condemned\nwoman is calculated to develop these very qualities to an abnormal\ndegree. From early childhood she receives commands and is taught to\ndistrust her own judgment. When she enters the bonds of matrimony she\nbecomes dependent on her husband for support, and in the vast majority\nof cases, his riper judgment shames her inexperience. In all graver\nmatters she must perforce defer to his decision. Accustomed to rely on\nauthority, is it surprising that in matters of religion, where even\nmen confess their ignorance, she should rejoice in the authority of the\npriest, whose directions relieve her of doubt and supply a ready channel\nfor her thoughts and acts. Again the feelings are her natural weapons,\nshall she not trust them! The stability and security of society are the\nconditions on which her dearest hopes depend for their realization. Can\nshe welcome the struggles of innovation. All her feelings cluster about\nthe religious traditions of the past; all a woman's heart pleads for\ntheir maintenance.\n\nNow to confine the feelings of woman within their proper bounds, it is\nnecessary to give wider scope, and a more generous cultivation to her\nintellect; in brief to allow her the same freedom of development as is\nuniversally accorded to man. Freedom makes strong, and the confidence of\nothers generates an independent and self-reliant spirit in ourselves. It\nis indeed often urged that woman is by nature the inferior of man. But\nthe appeal to physiology seems to be at least premature; the relation of\nthe size of the brain to intellectual capacity being by no means clearly\ndetermined; while the appeal to history is, if possible, even more\ntreacherous, because it cites the evils engendered by an ancient and\nlong continued system of oppression in favor of the system itself.\nCounting all the disadvantages against which woman has been forced\nto contend, and which have hampered her every effort to elevate her\ncondition, it is truly marvelous, not that she has done so little, but\nthat she has accomplished that which she has. Even in the difficult art\nof government she has earned well merited distinction, and women are\nnamed among the wisest and most beneficent rulers of ancient and modern\ntimes.* What the possibilities of woman's nature may be, no one can\ntell; least of all she herself. As it is she is credited with a superior\npower of intuition, a readier insight into character, a more complete\nmastery of details. What larger powers now latent a broader culture will\nbring to light, remains for the future to show.\n\n * J. S. Mill, The Subjection of Women, p. 100.\n\nBut we are told that the sphere of woman's work is in the home, and that\nproperly to perform her vocation there, she does not need the vigorous\ntraining required for men. That woman's mission ought to be and happily\nis in the majority of cases in the home, no one will gainsay. At the\nsame time, we should not close our eyes to patent facts, facts such as\nthese; that the number of women whose mission actually does not lie in\nthe home, is exceedingly great; that according to the last census of the\nUnited States, for instance, the female population of the State of New\nYork, is fifty-six thousand in excess of the male; that well nigh two\nmillions of women in this country are engaged in working for their\nlivelihood. Is it not cruel mockery to say to these women that their\nbusiness is in the household? If the condition of things is such that\nthey must seek outside labor; if we permit them to toil by hundreds of\nthousands in the fields and factories, on what plea of right or reason\ncan we deny them admission to the higher grades of service? Is it not\nsimple justice to admit them to all the professions, and to allow them\nthe same advantages in colleges and professional schools as are enjoyed\nby men?\n\nWe need not fear that the privilege will be abused. If women undertake\nto engage in pursuits for which they are physically or mentally unfit,\nthe effect of competition will quickly discourage them, and here as\nelsewhere, only the fittest will survive.\n\nBut aside from those who are destined to remain single, and considering\nthe seven millions of women, or more, who will become wives and mothers\nof families; is not the demand for higher education equally imperative\nin their case? Young girls are but too often educated to be the\nagreeable companions, rather than the partners of their future husbands.\nThey receive sufficient instruction to give them a general acquaintance\nwith the surface of things, but not sufficient to develop what ought to\nbe the chief end of every scheme of education--a permanent intellectual\ninterest in any one direction. Much time is wasted on minor\naccomplishments. At an age when the young girl is still totally\nimmature, she is often withdrawn from the influence of her preceptors,\nand hurried from dissipation to dissipation, to tread the round of\nsociety's gayeties, and to inhale the poisonous atmosphere of flattery\nand conventional falsehoods. She enters a new world. The contrast\nbetween the restraints of school life, and her novel sense of\nconsequence intoxicates her; the desire for pleasure becomes a passion;\nthe books of useful information, that never possessed a real charm for\nher, are cast aside, and the literature of the sentiments alone retains\nits attractions during the remainder of life. It is not astonishing\nthat those whose minds are thus left barren, should employ their leisure\nhours in frivolous or vicious occupations; that an exorbitant luxury,\nthe sign at all times, of deficient culture, should have infected the\ncommunity. It is not wonderful that when the trials of life approach,\nthese women grasp wildly at the nearest superstition, and prostrate\nthemselves before any idol of the vulgar, in their blind ignorance and\ncredulity.\n\nI have said that higher education can alone make marriage what it ought\nto be, for it is not fancy or the glow of passion that can bind the\nhearts together in lasting wedlock. The marriage bond has deeper\nmeanings. Two souls are united, each to be all in all to each. Here\nshall be the very consummation of love; love, that precious boon that\nassuages every pang, and stills every grief, and triumphs over sickness,\nsorrow, and the tomb. All nature's symbols fail to express its fulness;\nit has the hope of the dawning day; it has the tender pathos of the\nlight of the moon; it has the melody of birds, the mystic stillness\nof the forest, the infinity of the fathomless sea! Bounteous love,\nhow inexhaustible are its treasures! The fires of the passions kindle\naffection, but cannot secure it. If there be only the stubble of desire\nin the heart, that will quickly be consumed; if there be veins of true\ngold there, that will be melted and refined. Years pass, youth fades,\nthe attendant train of the graces vanishes, loveliness falls like a\nmask, but the union only becomes firmer and trustier, because it is a\nunion, not of the sentiments merely, but of the souls. The wife becomes\nthe true sharer of her husband's thoughts; mutual confidence reigns\nbetween them; they grow by mutual furtherance; each sees in each the\nmirror of his nobler self; they are the true complement one to the\nother. Who does not know that such unions are rare! Common sympathies,\ncommon duties do indeed create a tolerable understanding in most\nhouseholds; but that is not wedlock that men and women should jog on\ntolerably well together for the better part of a lifetime.\n\nThe modern mind is constantly broadening; new facts, new discoveries are\nconstantly coming to light, and loftier problems engage the attention\nof thinkers. If woman would not be utterly left behind in the race, then\nmust she make an effort to acquire more solid knowledge, and educational\nreform is the first step in the cause of woman's emancipation. The\nelectoral franchise, and whatever other measures may be included in\nthe popular phrase of \"Woman's rights\" should be reserved for future\ndiscussion. If practicable at all, they are assuredly for the present of\nsecondary importance.\n\nPermit me to close by briefly formulating a few points that seem to me\nto deserve special consideration in this connection.\n\nWoman, like man, should comprehend the age in which she lives and the\ngreat questions by which it is agitated. To this end a knowledge of\nhistory, and chiefly the history of her own nation, is requisite. She\nshould learn to understand the principles of the language she speaks,\nand the literature in which it is preserved, not from dry text-books,\nbut from the living works of the authors themselves. She should be able\nto pass an intelligent judgment upon the political issues of the day,\nthat take up so large a share of men's conversation, and to this end\nthe rudiments of political science might profitably be taught her.\nShe should possess sufficient familiarity with the natural sciences to\ncomprehend at least the main results of scientific investigations, and\na training of this kind would have the further advantage of accustoming\nher mind to the methods of accurate thinking. She should gain some\nknowledge of the human body and of the laws upon which its health\ndepends. Is it not strange that this important branch of knowledge is\nso generally neglected in the training of those who are to be mothers of\nthe future generation? How often would proper attention to a few simple\nrules of hygiene prevent sickness; how often would more efficient\nnursing avert death, where it is now freely allowed to enter. Then too\nthe outlines of pedagogy should be included in a course of advanced\ninstruction for women. Mothers are the educators of the children, but\nthe educators themselves require to be educated.\n\nIf the intellect of girls were braced and stimulated in this manner,\nthey would exhibit greater self-possession and self-reliance in their\nlater lives; they would be less apt to be deluded by false appeals to\nthe feelings: \"the woman's view\" would be no longer proverbial for the\nweaker view; the whole of society would feel the beneficent change, and\nthe problem which we set out to discuss in the beginning would in due\ntime solve itself.\n\nWe do not for a moment apprehend that the increased cultivation of\nthe intellect would entail any loss of sweetness or of those gracious\nqualities that make the charm of womanhood. Wherever such a result has\nbeen apparently observed, it is safe to ascribe it to other causes.\nTruth and beauty are far too closely akin in their inmost nature to\nexclude each other. Nor do we fear that the intensity of moral feeling,\nfor which women are distinguished, would suffer under the restraining\ninfluence of reason's guidance. The moral feelings would indeed be\npurified, elevated and directed to their proper objects by the judicious\nuse of reason; they would not therefore be enfeebled. In the past,\nthe conservatism of women has been a mighty obstacle in the path\nof progress. It is but just to add that at the dawn of every great\nreligious movement which promised the moral advancement of the race,\ngifted women, rising above the weakness of their sisters, have been\namong the earliest to welcome the new hope for humanity; have been among\nthe most ardent, the most self-sacrificing of its disciples. The Liberal\nmovement of our day also is essentially a movement for larger morality,\nand more and more as this feature will be clearly developed, may it hope\nto gain the sympathies of brave and good women to its side. In their\nsupport it will behold at once the criterion of its worthiness, and the\nsurest pledge of its ultimate triumph.\n\n\n\n\nVII. OUR CONSOLATIONS\n\n {A discourse delivered on Sunday, April 29, 1877.}\n\nWe go out in these balmy days of spring into the reviving fields, and\nthe eye drinks in with delight the fresh and succulent green of the\nmeadows; the willows begin to put forth their verdant foliage, the\nbrooks purl and babble of the new life that has waked in the forest:\nbe glad, all nature cries, summer is coming. And the freshness of the\nseason enters into our own hearts, our pulses beat more quickly, our\nstep is more buoyant. We remember all that is joyful in existence; the\narts that embellish, the aspirations that ennoble, the affections that\nendear it. Golden the future lies before us; our very cares lose their\nsombre hues; like the golden islands of cloud that glow in the glory of\nsunset skies.\n\nBut beneath the fair semblance of nature that for a time deludes our\nsenses, a dark and terrible reality is concealed. Observe how pitilessly\nthe destructive elements pursue their path, the earthquake the tornado,\nthe epidemic. A few months ago a rise of the sea swept away two hundred\nthousand human lives in the course of a few hours. Myriads of sentient\nbeings are daily cast up in the summer to perish with the first breath\nof cold. In the animal world, the strong feed upon the weak, and the\nremorseless struggle for existence extends even into the sphere of human\nactivity. At this very moment the whole of Europe is filled with\nanxious alarm in view of an impending war of conquest. While industry\nis paralyzed, while trade is at a stand-still, while a virulent disease\ngenerated by starvation has broken out in Silesia, and the workmen\nof Lyons have become dependent on the public charity of France, the\nresources of nations, already well nigh exhausted, are drained to\nprepare for the emergencies of conflict. With a secret thrill of terror\nwe read that beds for the wounded and millions of roubles for hospital\nappliances are being voted by the municipalities of Russia. Readily the\nimagination can picture to itself what these ghastly preparations mean.\nIt is true, so long as all is well with us, the larger evils of the\nworld do not greatly disturb our equanimity. Man has the happy faculty\nof abstracting his attention from things remote. The accumulated woes of\na continent affect us less than some trifling accident in our immediate\nvicinity. But when the messengers of evil have cast their shadows across\nour threshold, when calamity has laid its heavy hand upon our shoulder,\nit is then that the general unsatisfactoriness of life recurs to us with\nadded force in view of our own experience; the splendor fades from the\nsurrounding scene; every dark stain takes on a deeper blackness, and the\ngloom that comes from within fills and obscures the entire field of our\nvision. We have sustained financial loss, perhaps we are harrowed by\ndomestic discord, we are suddenly stricken in the midst of health, and\ndrag on long years as hopeless invalids, or worse still, we stand at the\nbedside of some dear friend or kinsman, see him stretched upon the rack\nof pain, and can do nothing to alleviate his sufferings; we see the end\nslowly nearing; but oh, the weary waiting, the patient's agonizing cry\nfor death, the cruel struggle that must still intervene. And when at\nlast, it is over, and we have laid him away under the sod, and returned\nto our desolate homes, what hope remains! Whither now, we ask, shall we\nturn for consolation? Is there no outlook from this night of trouble? Is\nthere no winged thought, that will bear us upward from out the depths;\nis there no solace to assuage our pangs?\n\nAmong the means of consolation commonly recommended the doctrine of\nImmortality seems to be regarded as the most appropriate and effective.\nIt is needless to lament; the deceased has entered a better life. Yet a\nlittle and you will join him to be no more parted. Nor can we deny that\nto those who cordially entertain it, the belief in the soul's\nimmortal continuance becomes a source of pure and inexpressibly tender\nsatisfaction. But with a certain class of minds--and their number, I\nbelieve, is on the increase--the consoling influence of this doctrine is\nmarred by the fatal uncertainty in which the whole question is involved,\nand which no efforts of man have ever yet, nor ever will, avail to\nremove. Christianity indeed claims to have settled the point. The Deity\nhimself, it avers, intervened by direct revelation from on high, to set\nour doubts at rest, and Jesus when he arose on the third day forever\ndeprived the grave of its sting and took away our fears of the tomb. But\nto those who read the books of revelations with unbiased mind, the fact\nof their human authorship becomes sadly apparent, and the resurrection\nitself is as difficult to prove as the doctrine which it is designed to\nsubstantiate.\n\nIn modern times spiritualism has likewise endeavored to demonstrate to\nthe senses the existence of a world of souls beyond our own. But\nthe phenomena on which it lies are in part disputed, in part the\ninterpretation put upon them, must, to say the least, be regarded as\npremature.\n\nMoreover we should remember that even if by some unknown means the fact\nof immortality could be established, the question of our re-union with\nfriends in the hereafter, in which alone the heart of the mourner is\ninterested, would still remain an open one and might be answered in the\nnegative. The belief in immortality has been held in this way by some of\nthe greatest intellects of the human race, Spinoza among the rest. If we\nknew that we shall continue to live, we should not therefore know how\nwe shall continue to live. Perhaps it might prove that all our previous\nconnections would be severed; and who can tell what new phases of\nexistence, what endless metamorphoses might await us among the infinite\npossibilities of Eternity.\n\nSo deep seated is the sense of uncertainty concerning our fate beyond\nthe tomb, that no religion, however great the control which it exerted\nover men, has ever been able to banish it entirely from their hearts.\nThe most ardent Christian is hardly less anxious than the infidel to\nretain those who are dear to him in life. He prays as fervently for\ntheir health as though their present state were the sum total of their\nexistence. And yet he should rather hail the day of death as a day of\nthanksgiving, and rejoice that those whom he loves have been translated\nto a sphere every way so much more desirable than our own. No, the\nnatural feeling cannot be suppressed, loss is felt to be loss, and death\nremains death. No hope of a happier condition in the world to come, no\nconfidence in the promises and prophesies of faith, can efface the sense\nof present bereavement, and as we all alike feel it, so are we all,\nbelievers and unbelievers, interested in seeking the means of its\npresent relief.\n\nSome of the most fervid, religious natures of the past endeavored to\nescape the sorrows of the world by having recourse to the cruel remedy\nof asceticism. The ascetic ponders the origin of suffering; he sees\nthat the desire for pleasure is the cause of pain. Were we not eager to\npossess we should not regret to lose. He cuts the gordian knot saying,\nabjure desire! When you cease to want, you shall no longer be bruised.\nThere are certain wants inherent in the body--the want of food,\ndrink, sleep; the heart has its needs--friendship, sympathy; the\nmind--knowledge, culture. All these should be subdued. We should eat\nand drink the coarsest in quality and the least possible in quantity; we\nshould avoid the attachments of love; we should be poor in spirit, and\ndespise wisdom. The ascetic ideal took firm root in Christianity at an\nearly period of its history. The extravagance of the Egyptian anchorites\nis well known. The \"pillar saint,\" St. Simeon, who is said to have\npassed some thirty years of his life on the summit of a column twenty\nyards in height, taking only the scantiest nourishment, eschewing\nablutions, covered with filth and sores, was worshipped as a holy man by\nthe multitude and his example was followed by others, though with less\nrigor, during a period of nearly a thousand years. Among the Hindoos,\ntoo, the ascetic ideal acquired a baneful ascendency. We can hardly\ncredit the tales that have come to us concerning the insane fanaticism\nwhich raged amongst this people. To what tortures of body and soul did\nthey subject themselves, what cruel ordeals did they invent in order to\nsteel themselves against the inevitable sufferings of life. It was their\nbeau-ideal to achieve a state bordering upon absolute unconsciousness,\nin which the power of sensation might be entirely blunted, and even the\nexistence of the physical man be forgotten.\n\nThis, indeed, is a capital remedy, a species of heroic treatment that\nattains its end. Man becomes passive in pain, incapable of sorrow,\nunmoved by any loss. But with the pains, the joys of existence have\nlikewise fled. The human being walks as a shadow among shadows, a\nsoulless substance, the wretched semblance of his former self. Who would\nnot rather bear the heaviest ills that flesh is heir to, than purchase\nhis release at such a cost.\n\nAnd now in setting forth our own view of this mighty problem of human\nsorrow, let us bear in mind that our private hardships and those general\nevils which we see enacted on a scale of such appalling magnitude in\nthe world around us, must be considered together, for the same cause\nconstantly gives rise to both. It is of the utmost importance that\nwe should weigh well what we have a right to expect, and ponder the\nconditions on which humanity holds the tenure of its existence. Perhaps\nour deepest disappointments are often due to the fact that we ask more\nthan we have any legitimate title to receive, and judge the scheme of\nthe Universe according to false analogies and preconceived notions which\nthe constitution of things does not bear out. We are subject to two\nlaws, the one the law of nature, the other that of morality: the two\nclash and collide, and a conflict ensues. Theology labors to show that\nthis conflict is apparent rather than real, to admit it would seem to\nimpugn the justice of the Deity. Thus we read in the Old Testament that\nwhen the sufferer Job protested his innocence, his friends assailed his\nveracity, and persisted in holding the bare fact of his misfortune as\nunimpeachable evidence of his sinfulness. And thus the Psalmist assures\nus, that he has grown old and never seen the righteous man in want. The\nexperience of the Psalmist must have been limited indeed! The conflict\nexists, however it may be denied. Nature is indifferent to morality,\ngoes on regardless. The great laws that rule the Kosmos, act upon this\nplanet of ours, nor heed our presence. If we chance to stand in the way,\nthey grind us to pieces with grim unconcern: the earth opens, the\nvolcano sends forth its smoldering fires, populous cities are\noverwhelmed, locusts devastate the country; they do not pause before the\nfield of the righteous; they have no moral preference. The seeds of\ndisease also are scattered broadcast over the land, and the best, often\nthose whom we can least afford to lose, are taken. These are the hostile\nforces, and against these man must contend. To them he opposes his\nintellect, his moral energy; he seeks to adapt himself to his place in\nthe universe. He discovers that these foes are blind, not necessarily\nhis enemies, if he can trace their path. If he can read the secret of\ntheir working, they cease to threaten him; he holds them with the reins\nof intellect, and binds them to his chariot, and behold like swift\nsteeds they carry him whithersoever it pleases him, and on, on, they\ndraw his car of progress. In this manner the sway of man's genius is\nextended on earth. Already life is far easier than it was among our\nancestors ten thousand years ago; the epidemic is checked by wise\nsanitary regulations, greater justice prevails in government, and the\nmeans of happiness are extended over wider areas of the population. What\nwe thus behold realized on a partial scale, we conceive in our visions\nof the future to be indefinitely prolonged, the course of development\nleading to higher and higher planes, healthier conditions, wiser laws,\nnobler manners. The moral order will thus increase on earth. The moral\norder never is, but is ever becoming. It grows with our growth, and to\nbring on the triumph of intellect over mechanism, of responsible\nmorality over irresponsible force, is our mission. The purpose of man's\nlife is not happiness, but worthiness. Happiness may come as an\naccessory, we dare never make it an end. There is that striving for the\nperfect within us: in it we live, by it we are exalted above the clod;\nit is the one and only solace that never fails us, and the experience of\nprogress in the past, the hope of greater progress in the future, is the\nredeeming feature of life. But the condition of all progress is\nexperience; we must go wrong a thousand times before we find the right.\nWe struggle, and grope and injure ourselves until we learn the uses of\nthings. Pain therefore becomes a necessity, but it acquires in this view\na new and nobler meaning, for it is the price humanity pays for an\ninvaluable good. Every painful sickness, every premature death, becomes\nthe means of averting sickness and death hereafter. Every form of\nviolence, every social wrong, every inmost tribulation, is the result of\ngeneral causes and becomes a goad in the sides of mankind, pressing them\non to correct the hoary abuses it has tolerated, the vicious principles\nof government, education and economy to which it has conformed. Wide as\nthe earth is the martyrdom of man, but the cry of the martyr is the\ncreaking of the wheel which warns us that the great car of human\nprogress is in motion.\n\nIf we keep duly in mind the position which the human race occupies over\nagainst nature, we shall not accuse fate. Fate is our adversary; we\nmust wrestle with it, we are here to establish the law of our own higher\nnature in defiance of fate. And this is the prerogative of man, that he\nneed not blindly follow the law of his being, but that he is himself the\nauthor of the moral law, and creates it even in acting it out. We are\nall soldiers in the great army of mankind, battling in the cause of\nmoral freedom; some to fight as captains, others to do valiant service\nin the ranks; some to shout the paean of victory, others to fall on the\nbattle field or to retire wounded or crippled to the rear. But as in\nevery battle so too in this, the fallen and the wounded have a share\nin the victory; by their sufferings have they helped, and the greenest\nwreath belongs to them.\n\nIt is strictly in accordance with the view we have taken, that we behold\nin the performance of duty the solace of affliction. All of us have\nfelt, after some great bereavement, the beneficent influence of mere\nlabor: even the mechanical part of duty affords us some relief. The\nknowledge that something must be done calls us away from brooding over\nour griefs, and forces us back into the active currents of life. The\ncultivation of the intellect also is a part of man's duty, and stands us\nin great stead in times of trouble. We should seek to accustom the mind\nto the aspect of large interests. In the pursuit of knowledge there is\nnothing of the personal: into the calm and silent realm of thought the\nfeelings can gain no entrance. There, after the first spasms of emotion\nhave subsided, we may find at least a temporary relief,--there for hours\nwe drink in a happy oblivion. But more is needed, and the discharge of\nthe duties of the heart alone can really console the heart. There is\nthis secret in the affections, that they constantly add to our strength.\nConstant communion between allied natures leads to their mutual\nenrichment by all that is best in either. But when the rude hand of\ndeath interferes, we are as a stream whose outlet is barred, as a\ncreeper whose stay is broken. A larger channel is needed then into which\nthe waters of our love may flow, a firm support, to which the tattered\ntendrils of affection may cling anew. True, the close and intimate bond\nthat unites friend to friend can have no substitute, but the warm love\nthat obtains in the personal relations may be expanded into a wider\nand impersonal love, which, if less intense, is broader, which, if less\nfond, is even more ennobling. The love you can no longer lavish on one,\nthe many call for it. The cherishing care you can no longer bestow\nupon your child, the neglected children of the poor appeal for it; the\nsympathy you can no longer give your friend, the friendless cry for it.\nIn alleviating the misery of others, your own misery will be alleviated,\nand in healing you will find that there is cure.\n\nThis remedy is suggested in an ancient legend related of the Buddha, the\ngreat Hindoo reformer, who was so deeply affected by the ills of human\nlife.* There came to him one day a woman who had lost her only child.\nShe was wild with grief, and with disconsolate sobs and cries called\nfrantically on the prophet to give back her little one to life. The\nBuddha gazed on her long and with that tender sympathy which drew all\nhearts to him, said, \"Go my daughter, get me a mustard seed from a house\ninto which death has never entered, and I will do as thou hast bidden\nme.\" And the woman took up the dead child, and began her search. From\nhouse to house she went saying, \"Give me a mustard seed, kind folk, a\nmustard seed for the prophet to revive my child.\" And they gave her\nwhat she asked, and when she had taken it, she inquired whether all were\ngathered about the hearth, father and mother and the children; but the\npeople would shake their heads and sigh, and she would turn on her way\nsadder than before. And far as she wandered, in town and village, in\nthe crowded thoroughfare, and by the lonely road side, she found not the\nhouse into which death had never entered. Then gradually as she went on,\nthe meaning of the Buddha's words dawned upon her mind; gradually as she\nlearned to know the great sorrow of the race every where around her,\nher heart went out in great yearning sympathy to the companions of her\nsorrow; the tears of her pity fell free and fast, and the passion of\nher grief was merged in compassion. She had learned the great lesson of\nrenunciation; had learned to sink self in the unselfish.\n\n * We have ventured to offer this interpretation of the\n legend in an article published in the Atlantic Monthly for\n June, 1875, from which the account in the text is taken.\n\nFrom the depths of the heart the stream of grief rises resistless, the\ndams and s of reason are impotent to stay its course. Prepare a\nchannel therefore to lead out its swelling tide away to the great ocean\nof mankind's sorrow, where in commingling it shall be absorbed.\n\nThe consolations of the Ideal are vigorous: they do not encourage idle\nsentiment: they recommend to the sufferer, action. The loss indeed as we\nset out by saying, remains a loss, and no preaching or teaching can ever\nmake it otherwise. The question is, whether it shall weaken and embitter\nus, or become the very purification of our souls, and lead us to grander\nand diviner deeds, lead us to raise unto the dead we mourn, a monument\nin our lives that shall be better than tiny pillared chapel or storied\nmarble tomb.\n\nThus from whatever point we start, we arrive at the same conclusion\nstill: \"not in the creed but in the deed!\" In the deed is the pledge of\nthe sacredness of life; in the deed is the reward of our activities in\nhealth; in the deed our solace, and our salvation even in the abysmal\ngulfs of woe. In hours of great sorrow we turn in vain to nature for an\ninspiring thought. We question the sleepless stars; they are cold\nand distant: the winds blow, the rivers run their course, the seasons\nchange; they are careless of man. In the world of men alone do we find\nan answering echo to the heart's needs. Let us grasp hands cordially and\nlook into each other's eyes for sympathy, while we travel together on\nour road toward the unknown goal. To help one another is our wisdom, and\nour renown, and our sweet consolation.\n\n\n\n\nVIII. SPINOZA.\n\nTwo centuries have elapsed since Spinoza passed from the world of the\nliving, and to-day that high and tranquil spirit walks the earth once\nmore and men make wide their hearts to receive his memory and his name.\nThe great men whom the past has wronged, receive at last time's tardy\nrecompense.\n\nOn the day that Columbus set sail for America, the Jews left Spain in\nexile. Many of their number, however, who could not find it in their\nhearts to bid adieu to their native land, remained and simulated the\npractice of devout Catholics while in secret they preserved their\nallegiance to their ancestral religion. They occupied high places in the\nchurch and state, and monks, prelates and bishops were counted in their\nranks. Ere long the suspicions of the Inquisition were alarmed against\nthese covert heretics, and their position became daily more perilous and\ninsecure. Some were condemned to the stake, others pined for years in\ndungeons; those that could find the means, escaped and sought in distant\nlands security and repose from persecution. It was especially the Free\nStates of Holland whose enlightened policy offered an asylum to the\nfugitives, and thither accordingly in great numbers they directed their\nsteps. Their frugality, their thrift and enterprise, contributed not a\nlittle to build up the prosperity of the Dutch metropolis.\n\nIn the opening of the seventeenth century a considerable congregation of\nthe Jews had collected in the city of Amsterdam. There in the year\n1632, the child of Spanish emigrants, Benedict Spinoza was born. Of\nhis childhood we know little. At an early age he was initiated into\nthe mysteries of Hebrew lore, was instructed in the Hebrew grammar, and\nlearned to read and translate the various writings of the Old Testament.\nHe was taught to thread his way through the mazes of the Talmud, and its\nsubtle discussions proved an admirable discipline in preparing him for\nthe favorite pursuits of his after years. Lastly he was introduced to\nthe study of the Jewish philosophers, among whom Maimonides and Ibn Ezra\nengaged his especial attention. Maimonides, one of the most profound\nthinkers of the middle ages, strove to harmonize the teachings of\nAristotle with the doctrines of the Bible. Ibn Ezra on the other hand,\nwas a confirmed sceptic. In his biblical commentaries he anticipates\nmany noteworthy discoveries of modern criticism, and his orthodoxy in\nother respects also is more than doubtful.\n\nIn all these different branches of theology the young Spinoza made rapid\nprogress and soon gained astonishing proficiency. He was the favorite\nof his instructors, and they predicted that he would one day become a\nshining light of the synagogue. Not content, however, with this course\nof study, Spinoza addressed himself to the study of Roman literature,\nand with the assistance of a certain Dr. Van den Ende, who had at that\ntime gained considerable repute as a teacher of liberal learning, he\nsoon became an accomplished Latin scholar. He also took up the study of\nGeometry and of Physics, and acquired considerable skill in the art of\nsketching. His mind being thus stored with various knowledge, he was\nprepared to enter the vast realm of metaphysical speculation and\nhere the works of Rene Descartes, preeminently engaged his attention.\nDescartes, whose motto, _De omnibus dubitandum est_, sufficiently\nindicates the revolutionary character of his teachings, was the leader\nof the new school of thought on the continent. His influence proved\ndecisive in shaping the career of Spinoza. Bruno also deserves mention\namong those who determined the bias of Spinoza's mind. I mean that Bruno\nwas among the first followers of Copernicus, proclaimed the doctrine of\nthe infinity of worlds and who himself inculcated a species of pantheism\nfor which he paid the last penalty at Rome in the year 1600, thirty-two\nyears before Spinoza was born. By all these influences the mind of the\nyoung philosopher was widened beyond the sphere of his early education.\nIn the pursuit of truth he sought the society of congenial minds, and\nfound among the cultivated Christians of his day that intellectual\nsympathy of which he stood in need. From the high plane of thought\nwhich he had now reached, the rites and practices of external religion\ndwindled in importance, and the questions of creed for which the mass\nof men contend appeared little and insignificant. His absence from the\nworship of the synagogue now began to be remarked; it was rumored\nthat he neglected the prescribed fasts and he was openly charged\nwith partaking of forbidden food. At first he was treated with great\nleniency. So high was his credit with the Rabbis, so impressed were they\nwith his singular abilities, that they strove by every gentle means to\nwin him back to his allegiance. They admonished him, held out prospects\nof honor and emolument; it is even stated that at last in despair of\nreclaiming him they offered an annual pension of a thousand florins to\npurchase his silence. Spinoza himself was keenly alive to the gravity\nof his position. It had been fondly hoped that he would shed new lustre\nupon the religion of Israel. He would be accused of vile ingratitude for\ndeserting his people. He foresaw the inevitable rupture that would cut\nhim off forever from friends and kinsmen, from the opportunities of\nwealth and honorable position, and deliver him over to privation and\npoverty. He himself tells us in the introduction of a work which had\nlong been forgotten and has been only recently rescued from oblivion,\nthat he saw riches and honor and all those goods for which men strive,\nplaced before him on the one hand, and a sincere life serenely true\nto itself on the other; but that the former seemed veritable shams and\nevils compared with that one great good. Nay, he said, though he might\nnever reach the absolute truth, he felt as one sick unto death, who\nknows but one balm that can help him and who must needs search for that\nbalm whereby perchance he may be healed.\n\nGreat was the commotion stirred up against him in the Jewish community\nof Amsterdam. One evening a fanatic assaulted him on the street and\nattempted his life. The stroke of the assassin's dagger was successfully\nparried. But Spinoza felt that the city was now no longer safe for him\nto dwell in. He fled and for some time frequently changed his place of\nresidence, until at last he settled at the Hague where he remained until\nhis death. In the mean time the lenient spirit of the Jewish leaders had\nchanged into stern, uncompromising rigor. Observe now how persecution\nbreeds persecution. It had been the pride of Judaism from of old that\nwithin its pale the practice of religion was deemed more essential\nthan the theory; that it permitted the widest divergence in matters of\nbelief, and granted ample tolerance to all. But these Jews of Amsterdam,\nfresh from the dungeons and the torture chambers of the Inquisition, had\nthemselves imbibed the dark spirit of their oppressors. Uriel d'Acosta\nthey had driven to the verge of insanity and to a tragic death by their\ncruel bigotry. And now the same methods were employed against a wiser\nand greater and purer man, far than he.\n\nOn the 27th of July, 1656, in the synagogue of Amsterdam, the sacred\nark, containing the scrolls of the law, being kept open during the\nceremony, the edict of excommunication was solemnly promulgated. It\nreads somewhat as follows:\n\n\"By the decree of the angels and the verdict of the saints we separate,\ncurse and imprecate Baruch de Spinoza with the consent of the blessed\nGod and of this holy congregation, before the holy books of the Law with\nthe commandments that are inscribed therein, with the ban with which\nJoshua banned Jericho, with the curse with which Elias cursed the\nyouths, and with all the imprecations that are written in the Law.\nCursed be he by day and cursed by night; cursed when he lies down,\nand cursed when he rises; cursed in his going forth, and cursed in his\ncoming in. May the Lord God refuse to pardon him; may his wrath and\nanger be kindled against this man, and on him rest all the curses that\nare written in this book of the Law. May the Lord wipe out his name\nfrom under the heavens, and separate him for evil from all the tribes\nof Israel, with all the curses of the firmament that are written in the\nbook of the Law. And ye that hold fast to the Lord God are all living\nthis day! we warn you that none shall communicate with him either by\nword of mouth or letter, nor show him any favor, nor rest under the same\nroof with him, nor approach his person within four yards, nor read any\nwriting that he has written.\"\n\nWhen Spinoza heard of this anathema he calmly replied: \"They compel me\nto do nothing which I was not previously resolved upon.\" He retired\nfrom the commerce of the world. He coveted solitude. Within his silent\nchamber he moved in a world of his own. There in twenty years of patient\npassionless toil he built up the mighty edifice of his system. It rises\nbefore us as if hewn of granite rock. Its simplicity, its grandeur,\nits structural power have been the wonder of men. I can offer only the\nbarest outline of its design.\n\nMan's questioning spirit seeks to penetrate to the heart of Nature,\nwould grasp the origin of things. There is this mighty riddle: who will\nsolve it? Various attempts have been made. Pantheism is one. Spinoza was\nthe great philosopher of Pantheism.\n\nBeneath all diversity there is unity. In all of Nature's myriad forms\nand changes, there is a substance unchangeable. It is uncreated,\nundivided, uncaused, the Absolute, Infinite, God. Thought and extension\nare its attributes; it is the One in All, the All in One. God is not\nmatter, is not mind; is that deeper unity in which matter and mind are\none; God or Nature, Spinoza says. This is not the God of theology. God\nis in the tree, in the stone, in the stars, in man. God does not live,\nnor labor for any purpose, but produces from the necessity of his Being\nin endless variety, in ceaseless activity. He is the inner cause of all\nthings, the ultimate Reality, and all things are as in their nature they\npartake of him.\n\nMan also is of God. The essence of man is in the mind. Man is a logical\nbeing. God alone owns truth; in so far as man thinks truly and clearly,\nhe is a part of the infinite God. Logic is the basis of ethics. Spinoza\nignores sentiment, ignores art. Good and evil are but other names for\nuseful and not useful. But that alone is useful that we follow the\nnecessary and universal laws, seeking by the depth and reach of\nintellect to know and understand.\n\nVirtue is the pursuit of knowledge. There are three kinds of knowledge:\nthe blurred perceptions of the senses, the light of the understanding,\nthe intuition of intellect. The last is the highest.\n\nVirtue is the sense of being; whatever heightens the joyous\nconsciousness of our active faculties is therefore good. The wise man\ndelights in the moderate enjoyment of pleasant food and drink, in the\ncolor and loveliness of green shrubs, in the adornment of garments, in\nmusic's sweetness. But our true being is to be found only in intellect;\nhence, virtue the joy of being, is the joy of thought; hence, the bold\nassertion--that is moral which helps, and that immoral which hinders\nthought.\n\nMan is a social being. As a drop is raised upward in the great ocean\nby the onflowing of the wave, so the individual mind is exalted by the\npresence and communion of congenial minds moving in the same current.\n\n'Tis thus that Spinoza deduces the social virtues. Hate is evil at all\ntimes, for hate implies the isolation and the weakness of the powers of\nreason. We should reward hatred with love and restore the broken accord\nof intellect. Love is the sense of kinship in the common search for\nreason's goal--wisdom. That all men should so live and act together that\nthey may form, as it were, one body and one mind, is the ideal of life.\nFriendship therefore he prizes as the dearest of earth's possessions,\nand wedlock he esteems holy because in it is cemented the union of two\nsouls for the common search of truth. We should be serene at all times\nand shun fear, which is weakness, and hope also which is the child of\ndesire, and haughtiness and humbleness and remorse and pity should we\navoid. But in stillness and with collected power shall we possess our\nsouls obedient to the laws of mind that make our being and helping when\nwe help for reason's sake. The passions bind us to passing phenomena.\nWhen they become transparent to our reason, when we know their causes\nthen our nature conquers outward nature and we are masters, we are free.\n\nThus the emotional life is extinguished. The feelings lose their color\nand vitality, become blank \"as lines and surfaces,\" and man, freed from\nthe constraints of passion, dwells in the pure realm of intellect, and\nin constant intercourse with the mind of God, fulfills the purpose of\nhis existence--to know and understand.\n\nAgainst the blows of misfortune also reason steels us. Sorrow is but the\nlurking suspicion that all might have been otherwise. When we come to\nknow that all things are by necessity, we shall find tranquillity in\nyielding to the inevitable. For so God works by necessity. For all\nthings are in his hands as clay in the hand of the potter, which the\npotter taketh and fashioneth therefrom vessels of diverse value, some\nto honor and some to disgrace. And none shall rebuke him, for all is by\nnecessity.\n\nWhen the body passes away the mind does not wholly perish, but something\nremains that is infinite, an eternal modus dwelling in the depths of\nthe eternal mind. But though we knew not that something of the mind\nremained, yet were goodness and strength of soul to be sought for above\nall else. For who, foreseeing that he cannot always feed on healthy\nnourishment, would therefore sate himself with deadly poison? or who,\nthough he knew that the mind is not immortal, would therefore lead an\nempty life, devoid of reason's good and guidance? The wisdom of the wise\nand the freedom of the free is not in the aspect of death but of life.\nReligion and piety lead us to follow the laws of necessity in the world\nwhere they are manifest, to dwell on the intellect of God, of God their\nfount and origin.\n\nBut I forbear to enter farther into this wonderful system. We see a\ngiant wrestling with nature, seeking to wrest from her her secret.\nMysterious nature baffles him and the riddle is still unread. That\nsubstance of which he speaks is no more than an abstraction of the mind\nwhose reality in the outward world he has failed to prove. He has also\nerred in turning aside from the rich and manifold life of the emotions,\nfor the emotions are not in themselves evil, they are the seminal\nprinciple of all virtue.\n\nOn pillars of intellect, Spinoza reared his system. Still, solemn,\nsublime like high mountains it towers upward, but is devoid of color and\nwarmth, and even the momentary glow that now and then starts up in his\nwritings, passes quickly away like the flush of evening that reddens the\nsnowy summits of Alpine ranges.\n\nSpinoza's name marks a lofty peak in human history. He was a true man;\nno man more fully lived his teachings. If he describes the pursuit\nof knowledge as the highest virtue, he was himself a noble example of\ntireless devotion in that pursuit. He was well versed in the natural\nsciences, skillful in the use of the microscope, and his contributions\nto the study of the inner life of man have earned him lasting\nrecognition. Johannes Mueller, the distinguished physiologist, has\nincluded the third division of Spinoza's _Ethics_ in his well known work\non physiology.\n\nReligion, however, was Spinoza's favorite theme, that religion which is\nfree from all passionate longings and averse to superstition of whatever\nkind. He was among the first to hurl his mighty arguments against\nthe infallible authority of the Bible, arguments that still command\nattention though two hundred years have since passed by. Miracles, he\nsaid, are past belief, the beauty of Cosmos is far more deserving\nof admiration than any so called miracle could possibly be. He\ndemanded--this was a great and novel claim--that the methods of natural\nscience be applied to the study of scripture, that the character of the\nage and local surroundings be considered in determining the meaning of\neach scriptural author. In brief that a natural history of the bible,\nso to speak, should be attempted. He claimed that the priesthood had\nfalsified the very book which they professed to regard most holy.\nHe denied the Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch, and set forth in\nsingularly clear and lucid language the discrepancies in which that work\nabounds. He closed the treatise in which these views are laid down--the\nTheologico-political Tract--with a magnificent plea for liberty of\nconscience and of speech. That state alone, he says, can be free and\nhappy which rests on the freedom of the Individual citizen. Where the\nright of free utterance is curtailed, hypocrisy and shameful conformance\nflourish, and public contumely and disgrace which ought to serve as a\nmete punishment for the vicious, become a halo about the head of the\nmost noble of men. Religion and piety, he concludes, the state has a\nright to demand, but nothing hereafter shall be known as religion and\npiety save the practice of equity and of a wise and helpful love.\n\nIt was a bold awakening note which thus rang out into the seventeenth\ncentury, and theologians were bitter in their replies. The book was\nconfiscated and Christian curses were added to Jewish anathemas. But\nthey failed to affect Spinoza.\n\nFew men have suffered as he did. Few have preserved the same equanimity\nof soul in the face of adverse fortune. Twenty years he dwelt alone. For\ndays he did not leave his student's closet, drawing his mighty circles,\nintent on those high thoughts that formed the companionship he loved.\nThose that knew him well revered him. De Witt the noble statesman, De\nWitt who ended his days so miserably, torn to pieces by a maddened mob,\nsought his counsel. Young ardent disciples from a distance sent him\nwords of cheer into his solitude. His soul was pure as sunlight, his\ncharacter crystal clear. He was frugal in the extreme: a few pence a day\nsufficed to sustain him. Not that he affected austere views in general,\nbut the deep meditations that occupied his mind left him little time\nor inclination for the grosser pleasures. His sense of honor was\nscrupulously nice. Again and again did he reject the munificent pensions\nwhich his friends pressed upon him; he would be free and self-sustained\nin all things. In his leisure hours he busied himself with the grinding\nand polishing of optical lenses, an exercise that offered him at once\nthe means of support and a welcome relaxation from the severe strain\nof mental effort. His temper was rarely ruffled; he was placid, genial,\nchildlike. When wearied with his labors he would descend to the family\nof his landlord, the painter Van der Speke, and entering into the\naffairs of these simple people, he found, in their unaffected converse,\nthe relief he sought.\n\nHe valued the peace of mind which he had purchased so dearly. When the\nElector of the Palatinate offered him the chair of philosophy at the\nUniversity of Heidelberg on condition that he would so expound his\nphilosophy as not to interfere with the established religion, he\ndeclined, replying that he could teach the truth only as he saw it, and\nthat evil and designing men would doubtless add point and poison to his\nwords. Yet he was fearless. When toward the close of his career,\nhis life was again imperiled, the grave tranquillity of his demeanor\ninspired his agitated friends with calmness and confidence.\n\nHe had gained his forty-fourth year. For half a life time he had been\nfighting a treacherous disease, that preyed in secret upon his health.\nHis life was slowly ebbing away amidst constant suffering, yet no\ncomplaint crossed his lips and his nearest companions were hardly\naware of what he endured. In the early part of the year 1677 one day\nin February, while the family of the painter were at church the end\napproached. Only a single friend was with him. Calmly as he had lived,\nin the stillness of the Sunday afternoon, Spinoza passed away.\n\nHe has left a name in history that will not fade. His people cast him\nout, Christianity rejected him, but he has found a wider fellowship, he\nbelongs to all mankind. Great hearts have throbbed responsive to his\nteachings and many a sorrowful soul has owned the restful influence of\nhis words. He was a helper of mankind. Not surely because he solved the\nultimate problems of existence--what mortal ever will--but because he\nwas wise in the secret of the heart, because he taught men to appease\ntheir fretful passions in the aspect of the infinite laws in which we\nlive and are.\n\nSacred is the hour in which we read his Ethics. From the heat and glare\nof life we enter into its precincts as into the cool interior of some\nhallowed temple of religion. But no idol stands there; the spirit of\ntruth alone presides and sanctifies the place and us. The great men\nof the past we will reverence. They are mile-stones on the highway of\nhumanity, types of the Infinite, that has dawned in human breasts. Such\nan one was he of whom I have spoken. And more and more as the light\nincreases among men will all that was good and great in him shine forth\nto irradiate their path. And as we stand here to-day on this day of\nremembrance to recall his teachings and his example, so when other\ncenturies shall have elapsed, the memory of Spinoza will still live,\nposterity will still own him, and distant generations will name him\nanew: Benedictus--Blessed!\n\n\n\n\nIX. THE FOUNDER OF CHRISTIANITY\n\n {A discourse delivered on Sunday, December 31, 1876.}\n\n\"I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil, for verily I say unto you till\nheaven and earth pass away one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass\nfrom the law till all be fulfilled.\" \"Resist not evil, * * * bless them\nthat curse you, do good to them that hate you.\"\n\nIn these sayings of Jesus the key note of early Christianity is struck.\nIt was not a revolt against Judaism, it was but a reiterated assertion\nof what other and older Prophets of the Hebrews had so often and so\nfervently preached. The law was to remain intact, but the spiritual\nlaw was meant, the deeper law of conscience that underlies the forms of\nlegislation and the symbols of external worship.\n\nThere is a rare and gracious quality in the personality of Jesus as\ndescribed in the Gospels, which has exercised its charm upon the most\nheterogeneous nations and periods of history wide apart in the order of\ntime and of culture.\n\nTo grasp the subtle essence of that charm, and thereby to understand\nwhat it was that has given Christianity so powerful a hold upon\nthe affections of mankind, were a task well worthy the attention of\nthoughtful minds. We desire to approach our subject in the spirit of\nreverence that befits a theme with which the tenderest fibres of faith\nare so intimately interwoven; at the same time we shall pay no regard\nto the dogmatic character with which his later followers have invested\nJesus, for we behold his true grandeur in the pure and noble humanity\nwhich he illustrated in his life and teachings.\n\nThe New Testament presents but scant material for the biography of\nJesus, and the authenticity, even of the little that remains to us, has\nbeen rendered extremely uncertain by the labors of modern critics. A few\nleading narratives, however, are doubtless trustworthy, and these will\nsuffice for our purpose. A brief introduction on the character of the\npeople among whom the new prophet arose, the characteristics of the\nage in which he lived, and the beliefs that obtained in his immediate\nsurroundings, will assist us in our task.\n\nThe expectation of the Messiah had long been rife among the Jews.\nHolding themselves to be the elect people of God, they believed the\ntriumph of monotheism to be dependent upon themselves. The prophets of\nJehovah had repeatedly assured them that their supremacy would finally\nbe acknowledged. Events however had turned out differently. Instead of\nsuccess they met with constant defeat and disaster; Persia, Egypt, Syria\nhad successively held their land in subjection; the very existence of\ntheir religion was threatened, and the heathen world, far from showing\nsigns of approaching conversion, insisted upon its errors with increased\nobstinacy and assurance. And yet Jehovah had distinctly promised that he\nwould raise up in his own good time, a new ruler from the ancient\nline of Israel's Kings, a son of David, who should lead the people to\nVictory. To his sceptre all the nations would bow, and in his reign the\nfaith of the Hebrews would be acknowledged as the universal religion.\nEvery natural means for the fulfilment of these predictions seemed now\ncut off, nothing remained but to take refuge in the supernatural; it was\nsaid that the old order of things must entirely pass away; a new heaven\nand a new earth be created and what was called the Kingdom of Heaven\nmight then be expected. The \"Kingdom of Heaven,\" a phrase that\nfrequently recurs in the literature of the Jews, is used, not to\ndescribe a locality, but to denote a state of affairs on earth, in\nwhich the will of heaven would be generally obeyed without the further\nintervention of human laws and government. The agency of the Messiah was\nlooked to, for the consummation of these happy hopes. To reward those\nwho had perished before his coming, many moreover of those that slept\nin the dust would awaken, and the general resurrection of the dead would\nsignalize the approach of the millennium.\n\nAt the end of the first century B. C. these expectations had created\na wild ferment among the population of Palestine. Now if ever, it was\nfondly urged, they must be fulfilled. The need was at its highest, help\nthen must be nighest. For matters had indeed grown from bad to worse,\nthe political situation was intolerable, after the brief spell of\nindependence in the days of the Maccabees, the Roman yoke had been\nfastened upon the necks of the people, and the weight of oppression\nbecame tenfold more difficult to support from the sweet taste of liberty\nthat had preceded it. The rapacity of the Roman Governors knew no\nbounds. A land impoverished by incessant wars and the frequent failure\nof the crops, was drained of its last resources to satisfy the\nenormous exactions of a foreign despot, while to all this was added the\nhumiliating consciousness that it was a nation of idolators which was\nthus permitted to grind the chosen people.\n\nNor was the condition of religion at all more satisfactory. It is true\nthe splendid rites of the public worship were still maintained at the\nTemple, and Herod was even then re-building the Sanctuary on a scale of\nunparalleled magnificence. Bright was the sheen and glitter of gold upon\nits portals, solemn the ceremonies enacted in its halls, and grand and\nimpressive the voices of the Levitic choirs as they sang to the tuneful\nmelody of cymbals and of harps. But the lessons of history teach us\nthat the times in which lavish sums are expended on externals, are not\nusually those in which religion possesses true vitality and power and\ndepth. Here was a brand flickering near extinction; here was a builder\nwho built for destruction; the Temple had ceased to satisfy the needs of\nthe people.\n\nIn the cities an attempt to supply the deficiency was made by the party\nof the Pharisees. They sought to broaden and to spiritualize the meaning\nof scripture--they laid down new forms of religious observance by means\nof which every educated man became, so to speak, his own priest. The\nreligion of the Pharisees however assumed a not inconsiderable degree of\nintellectual ability on the part of its followers. So far as it went it\nanswered very well for the intelligent middle classes. But out in the\ncountry districts it did not answer at all; not for the herdsmen, not\nfor the poor peasants, not for those who had not even the rudiments of\nlearning and who could do nothing with a learned religion. And yet these\nvery men before all others needed something to support them, something\nto cling to, even because they were so miserably poor and illiterate.\nThey did not get what they wanted--they felt very strongly that the\nburdens upon them were exceedingly grievous; that while they suffered\nand starved, religion dwelt in palaces, and had no heart for their\nmisfortunes. They felt that something was wrong and rotten in the then\nstate of affairs, and that a new state must come, and a heaven-sent\nking, who would lend a voice to their needs, and lift them with strong\narms from out their despair and degradation. Nowhere was this feeling\nmore marked than in the district of Galilee. A beautiful land with\ngreen, grassy valleys, groves of sycamores, broad blue lakes, and\nvillages nestling picturesquely on the mountain s, it nourished\nan ardent and impulsive population. Their impatience with the existing\norder of things had already found vent in furious revolt. Judah, their\nfamous leader, had perished; his two sons, James and Simon, had been\nnailed to the cross; the Messiah was daily and hourly expected; various\nimpostors successively arose and quickly disappeared; when would the\nhour of deliverance come; when would the true Messiah appear at last?\n\nIt was at such a time and among such a people, that there arose Jesus\nof Nazareth in Galilee. What was the startling truth he taught? What was\nthe new revelation he preached to the sons of men? An old truth, and an\nold sermon--Righteousness; no more, meaning nothing at all, a mere trite\ncommon-place, on the lips of the time-server and the plausible vendor of\nmoral phrases. Meaning mighty changes for the better, when invoked with\na profounder sense of its sanctity, and a new sacredness in life, and\nlarger impulses for ever and for ever. Righteousness he taught, and\nthe change that was to come by righteousness. Yes, so deep was his\nconviction, so profoundly had the current conceptions of the day\naffected him, that he believed the change to be near at hand, that he\nhimself might be its author, himself Messiah.\n\nThe novelty of Jesus' work has been sought in various directions. It has\nbeen said, for instance, to consist in the overthrow of phariseeism; and\nit is true that he rebukes the pharisees in the most severe terms; these\nreproaches, however, were not directed against the party as a whole, but\nonly against its more extravagant and unworthy members. The pharisees\nwere certainly not a \"race of hypocrites, and a generation of vipers.\"\nLet us remember that Jesus himself, in the main, adhered to their\nprinciples; that his words often tally strictly with theirs; that even\nthe golden sayings which are collected in the sermon on the mount, may\nbe found in the contemporaneous Hebrew writings, whose authors were\npharisees. Thirty years before his time, Hillel arose among the\npharisees, renowned for his marvellous erudition, beloved and revered\nbecause of the gentleness and kindliness of his bearing, the meekness\nwith which he endured persecution, the loving patience with which he\novercame malice and hate. When asked to express in brief terms the\nessence of the law, he to the pharisee replied, \"Do not unto others what\nthou wouldst not that others do unto thee;\" this is the essence, all the\nrest is commentary,--\"go and learn.\" Jesus fully admits the authority\nof the pharisees. \"The pharisees,\" he says, \"sit in Moses' seat; all\ntherefore whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do.\" If we\nread the gospel of Matthew, we find that he does not attempt to abrogate\nthe pharisaic commandments, but only insists upon the greater importance\nof the commandments of the heart. \"Woe,\" he cries, \"or ye pay tithe of\nmint, of anise and cumin, but ye have omitted the weightier matters of\nthe law, judgment, mercy and faith, these ought ye to have done, _and\nnot to leave the other undone_,\"--and again, \"If thou bring thy gift\nto the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against\nthee, leave there thy gift before the altar and go thy way; first be\nreconciled to thy brother, and then _come and offer thy gift_.\" The\nleper also whom he cured of his disease, he advises to bring the gift\nprescribed by the Jewish ritual. We cannot fully understand the conduct\nof Jesus in this respect, unless we bear in mind that he believed the\nmillenial time to be near at hand. At that time it was supposed\nthe ancient ceremonial of Judaism would come to an end by its own\nlimitation; until that time arrived, it should be respected. He does\nnot wage war against the religious tenets and practices of his age; only\nwhen they interfere with the superior claims of moral rectitude does\nhe bitterly denounce them, and ever insists that righteousness be\nrecognized as the one thing above all others needful.\n\nNor is the novelty of Jesus' work to be found in the extension of the\ngospel to the heathen world. It seems, on the contrary, highly probable\nthat he conceived his mission to lie within the sphere of his own\npeople, and devoted his chief care and solicitude to their welfare. \"I\nam not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel,\" he says;\nand thus he charges his apostles, \"Go ye not into the way of the\nGentiles, and into any city of the Samaritans enter ye not. Go rather to\nthe lost sheep of the house of Israel, and as ye go, preach, saying the\nkingdom of heaven is at hand.\" And yet his exclusive devotion to\nthe interest of the Jews is not at variance with the world-embracing\ninfluence attributed to the Messianic character. In common with all\nhis people, he believed that upon the approach of the millennium, the\nnations of the earth would come of their own accord, to the holy mount\nof Israel, accept Israel's religion, and thenceforth live obedient to\nthe Messianic King. The millennium was now believed to be actually in\nsight. \"Verily I say unto you there be some standing here who shall not\ntaste of death until they see the Son of man coming in his Kingdom.\"\nFrom the Jewish standpoint, therefore, which was the one taken by Jesus\nand the earliest Christians, the mission to the heathen was unnecessary.\n\nAnd again it has been said that the evangel of Jesus was new, in that\nit substituted for the stern law of retribution the methods of charity\nand the law of love; that while the elder prophets had taught the people\nto consider themselves servants of a task-master, he taught them freedom\nand brotherhood. But is this true? Will any one who has read the Hebrew\nProphets with attention, venture to assert that they instil a slavish\nfear into the hearts of men; they whose every line speaks aspiration,\nwhose every word breathes liberty? It is true their language is often\nstern when they dwell on duty. And it is right that it should be so, for\nso also is duty stern and in matters of conscience sentimental ism is\nout of place, harmful. Simple obedience to the dictates of the moral law\nis required, imperatively, unconditionally, not for pity's sake, nor for\nlove's sake, but for the right's sake, simply and solely because it\nis right. But the emotions that are never the sufficient sanctions of\nconduct may ennoble and glorify right conduct. And how tenderly do the\nancient prophets also attune their monitions to the promptings of the\nrichest and purest of human sympathies. \"Thy neighbor thou shalt love as\nthyself,\" was written by them, and \"Have we not all one Father, has not\none God created us all.\" Thy poor brother too is thy brother, and in\nsecret shalt thou give charity. In the dusk of the evening the poor are\nto come into the cornfields and gather there, and no man shall know who\nhas given and who has received. The ancient prophets were idealists,\npreachers of the Spirit as opposed to the form that cramps and\nbelittles. In Jesus we behold a renewal of their order, a living protest\nagainst the formalism that had in the interval become encrusted about\ntheir teachings, only differing from his predecessors in this, that the\nhopes which they held out for a distant future, seemed to him nigh their\nfulfilment, and that he believed himself destined to fulfil them.\n\nIf we can discover nothing that had not been previously stated in the\nsubstance of Jesus' teachings, there is that in the method he pursued,\nwhich calls for genuine admiration and reverence, the method of rousing\nagainst the offender the better nature in himself: of seeming yielding\nto offence based on an implicit trust in the resilient energy of the\ngood; of conquering others, by the strength of meekness and the might of\nlove. Hillel too was endowed with this strength of meekness, and Buddha\nhad said, long before the days of Jesus: \"Hatred is not conquered by\nhatred at any time, hatred is conquered by love; this is an old rule.\"\nBut in the story of no other life has this method been applied with such\nsingular sweetness, with such consistent harmony from the beginning to\nthe end. Whether we find him in the intimate circle of his disciples,\nwhether he is instructing the multitude along the sunny shores of Lake\nGennesareth, whether he stands before the tribunal of his judges, or in\nthe last dire agonies of death--he is ever the patient man, the loving\nteacher, the man of sorrows, who looks beyond men and their crimes to\nan ideal humanity, and confides in that; who gives largely, and forgives\neven because he gives so much.\n\nBut we shall not touch the true secret of his power until we recall\nhis sympathy with the neglected classes of society; that quality of his\nnature which caused the poor of Galilee to hail him as their deliverer,\nwhich produced so lasting an impression upon his contemporaries, and\nmade the development of his doctrines into a great religion possible.\nHis gospel was preeminently the gospel for the poor: he sat down with\ndespised publicans, he did not shun the contamination of lepers, nay nor\nof the moral leprosy of sin--he visited the hovels of paupers and\ntaught his disciples to prefer them to the mansions of the fortunate; he\napplied himself with peculiar fervor to those dumb illiterate masses of\nGalilee, who knew not whither they might turn, to what they might cling.\nHe gave them hope, he brought them help. And so it came about that in\nthe early Christian communities which were still fresh from the presence\nof the master, the appeal to conscience he had made so powerfully,\nresulted in solid helpfulness; so it came about that in those pristine\ndays, the Church was a real instrument of practical good, with few\nforms, and little parade, but with love feasts and the communion table\nspread with repasts for the needy. \"Come unto me all ye that labor and\nare heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and\nlearn of me, * * * for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.\" It is\nfrom such particulars that there was drawn that fascinating image which\nhas captivated the fancy and attracted the worship of mankind. The\nimage of the pale man with the deep, earnest eyes, who roused men to new\nexertions for the good, who lifted up the down-trodden, who loved little\nchildren and taught the older children in riddles and parables that they\nmight understand, and the brief career of whose life was hallowed all\nthe more in memory, because of the mournful tragedy in which it closed.\nAll the noblest qualities of humanity were put into this picture and\nmade it lovely. It was the humanity, not the dogma of Jesus, by which\nChristianity triumphed. Like a refreshing shower in the perfumed spring,\nhis glad tidings of a new enthusiasm for the good came upon the\narid Roman world, sickening with the dry rot of self-indulgence, and\nthirsting for some principle to give a purpose to the empty weariness\nof existence. Like a message from a sphere of light it spread to the\nGermanic tribes, tempered the harshness of their manners, taught them\na higher law than that of force, and conquered their grim strength with\nthe mild pleadings of the Master of meekness in far-off Galilee.\n\nIt is the moral element contained in it that alone gives value and\ndignity to any religion, and only then when its teachings serve to\nstimulate and purify our aspirations toward the good, does it deserve to\nretain its ascendancy over mankind. Claiming to be of celestial origin,\nthe religions have drawn their secret spell from the human heart itself.\nThere is a principle of reverence inborn in every child of man,--this he\nwould utter. He sees the firmament above him, with its untold hosts;\nhe stands in the midst of mighty workings, he is filled with awe; he\nstretches forth his arms to grasp the Infinite which his soul seeketh,\nhe makes unto himself signs and symbols, saying, let these be tokens of\nwhat no words can convey. But a little time elapses, and these symbols\nthemselves seem more than human, they point no more beyond themselves,\nand man becomes an idolator, not of stone and wood merely. Then it is\nneedful that he remember the divine power with which his soul has been\nclothed from the beginning, that by the force of some moral impulse he\nmay break through the fetters of the creeds, and cast aside the weight\nof doctrines that express his best ideals no more. And so we find in\nhistory that every great religious reformation has been indebted for its\ntriumphs, not to the doctrines that swam upon the surface, but to the\nswelling currents of moral energy that stirred it from below; not to the\ndoctrine of the Logos in Jesus' day, but to the tidings of release\nwhich he brought to the oppressed, not to \"justification by faith,\"\nin Luther's time, but to the mighty reaction to which his thunderous\nprotest lent a voice, against the lewdness and the license of a corrupt\nand cankerous priesthood. The appeal to conscience has ever been the\nlever that raised mankind to a higher plane of religion.\n\nConscience, righteousness, what is there new in these--their maxims\nare as old as the hills? Truly, and as barren often as the rocks. The\nnovelty of righteousness is not in itself, but in its novel application\nto the particular unrighteousness of a particular age. It was thus that\nJesus applied to the sins and mock sanctities of his day, the ancient\ntruths known to the prophets and to others long before him. It is\nthus that every new reformer will seek to bring home to the men of his\ngeneration what it is that the ancient standard of right and justice now\nrequires at their hands. That all men are brothers, who did not concede\nit? But that the enslaved man too is our brother, what a convulsion did\nthat not cause, what vast expenditure of blood and treasure until that\nwas made plain. That we should relieve the necessities of the poor, who\nwill deny it? But that a social system which year by year witnesses the\nincrease of the pauper class, and the increase of their miseries, stands\ncondemned before the tribunal of Religion, of justice, how long will\nit take before that is understood and taken to heart? The facts of\nrighteousness are few and simple, but to apply them how mighty, how\ndifficult a task. The time is approaching when this stupendous work\nmust be attempted anew, and we, a small phalanx in the army of progress,\nwould aid, with what power in us resides. Let this inspire us that we\nhave the loftiest cause of the age for our own, that we are helping\nto pave the way for a stronger and freer and happier race. For by so\nlaboring, alone can we feel that our life has a meaning under the sky\nand the sacred stars.\n\nThe year in which we have entered upon our journey is passing away.\nTo-night when the midnight bells send forth their clamorous voices, we\nshall greet the new year, and the work it brings. No peaceful task dare\nwe expect, but something of good accomplished may it see.\n\n \"Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,\n The flying cloud, the frosty light,\n The year is dying in the night,\n Ring out wild bells and let him die.\n\n \"Ring out the old, ring in the new,\n Ring happy bells across the snow,\n The year is going, let him go,\n Ring out the false, ring in the true.\"\n\n\n\n\nX. THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY DISCOURSE.\n\nIt is May, the gladdest season of the year. Life is in the breezes, life\nin the vernal glory of the fields, life in the earth and in the skies.\nOf old, men were wont to go forth at this time into the forest, to\nwreath the fountains with garlands, to cover their houses with green\nbranches, with songs and dances to celebrate the triumph of the Spring.\nHappy festivals, happy omens.\n\nA year has now passed since we began our work, and for many months we\nhave met in this hall week after week. We have reached the first resting\nplace upon our journey, and it behooves us to look back once more upon\nthe path we have travelled, and forward into the yet untried future that\nawaits us.\n\nWhat was it that induced us to enter upon so perilous and for many\nreasons so uncertain an enterprise?\n\nWe felt a great need. Religion which ought to stand for the highest\ntruth, had ceased to be true to us. We saw it at war with the highest\nintelligence of the day; religion and conscience also seemed no longer\ninseparably connected, as they should be. We saw that millions are\nannually lavished upon the mere luxuries of religion, gorgeous temples,\nchurches and on the elaborate apparatus of salvation; we could not but\nreflect that if one tithe of the sums thus set apart were judiciously\nexpended upon the wants of the many who are famishing, distress might\noften be relieved, sickness averted, and crime confined within more\nnarrow boundaries. We saw around us many who had lapsed from their\nancient faith but still preserved the outward show of conformance,\nencouraged in so equivocal a course, by the advice and example of noted\nleaders in the churches themselves. We saw that the great tides of being\nare everywhere sweeping mankind on to larger achievements than were\nknown to the past; only within the churches all is still and motionless;\nonly within the churches the obsolete forms of centuries ago are\nretained, or if concessions to the present are made, they are tardy,\nungracious and insufficient. We beheld that the essentials of religion\nare neglected, even while its accessories are observed with greater\npunctiliousness than ever.\n\nWe were passing moreover through a period of momentous import in our\ncountry's history. The nation had just entered upon the second century\nof its existence, and the great recollections of what the fathers had\ndone and designed for the republic, were fresh in our minds. We recalled\nthe memorable words of Washington in his first inaugural address: \"That\nthe national policy would be laid in the pure and immutable principles\nof private morality.\" But we were startled to observe how greatly recent\nevents had falsified these hopes and felt it our duty, within our own\nlimited sphere, to restore something of that noble simplicity, something\nof that high fidelity to righteousness which it is said adorned the\nearlier days, and on which alone the fortunes of the state can rest\nsecurely hereafter.\n\nThen also the question, how best to educate the children to a worthy\nlife, confronted us. The doctrines of religion as commonly interpreted,\nwe could no longer impart to them; did we attempt to do so, they would\nbe likely to discard them in later years, and would in the mean time be\nseriously injured in their moral estate by the struggle and its probable\nissue. On the other hand we were aware that the temptations which\nsurround the young in this complex and highly wrought civilization of\nours, are peculiarly dangerous and alluring, and by all the holiest\ninstincts of humanity, we conceived ourselves bound to provide more\neffectively for their moral welfare. A few of us therefore took counsel\nhow these objects might be attained, and we determined to take a step in\na new direction. We did not conceal from ourselves the difficulties that\nwould attend what we were about to undertake. We might expect honest\nopposition. There would be no need to shrink from that. We might expect\nmisconstruction, unintentioned or with malice aforethought; we might\nexpect also cold comfort from those illiberal liberals, who are eager\nenough to assert the principles of freedom for themselves, but relax\nalike their principles and their tempers when the limits are transcended\nwhich they have themselves reached, and which, on this account, they\narbitrarily set up as the barriers of future progress. There were other\nobstacles inherent in the nature of the work itself. But all these\nweighed lightly in the scales, when opposed to the stern conviction,\nthat there are certain hideous shams allowed to flourish in our public\nlife; that there are certain great truths which ought to be brought home\nwith new energy to the conscience of the people.\n\nUpon what platform could we unite. To formulate a new creed was out of\nthe question. However comprehensive in its statements it might be, nay\nthough it had been the creed of absolute negation, from which indeed we\nare far removed, it would never have combined our efforts in permanent\nunion. And yet it was plain that to be strong and to exert influence,\nwe must effect a firm, cordial, enthusiastic agreement upon some great\nprinciple. The weakness of the Liberal Party had hitherto been, as we\nknew, its dread of organization. It ensured thereby for its members a\ngreater measure of freedom than is elsewhere known, but it purchased\nthis advantage at an immense expense of practical influence and\ncoherency. Its forces are scattered, and in every emergency, it finds\nitself paralyzed for want of unity in its own ranks. The Catholic Church\nhas pursued the opposite policy, and presents the most notable instance\nof its successful prosecution. It is so formidable, mainly because of\nits splendid scheme of organization, and the high executive ability\nof its leaders. But its power is maintained at a complete sacrifice of\nfreedom. Could we not secure both? Could we not be free and strong? This\nwas the problem before us, and it seemed to us we could.\n\nWhat the exigencies of the modern age demand, more than aught else, is a\nnew movement for the moral elevation of the race. Now the basic facts of\nman's moral nature, though insufficiently illustrated in practice, are\nuniversally admitted among civilized human beings. Concerning them there\nis and can be no dispute. Here then appeared the solid principle of our\nunion. The moral ideal would point the way of safety, the moral ideal\nwould permit us to preserve the sacred right of individual differences\nintact, and yet to combine with our fellow-men for the loftiest and\npurest ends. Taking the term creed therefore in its widest application,\nwe started out with the watchword, Diversity in the Creed, Unanimity in\nthe Deed. This feature, if any at all, lends character to our movement,\nand by it would we be judged. We claim to be thereby distinguished, as\nwell from those religious corporations that base their organization upon\ndefinite theological dogmas, as also from the great majority of Liberals\nwho meet for purposes of contemplation and poetical aspiration, in that\nwe put the moral element prominently forward and behold in it the bond\nof our union, the pledge of our vitality.\n\nBut at the very threshold of our enterprise, we were met by the\nobjection that our main premise is false; that morality is impossible\nwithout dogma, and that in neglecting the one we were virtually\nneutralizing our efforts toward the other. It became our first and most\nserious task therefore to show the futility of this objection, and to\nmake clear by an appeal to philosophy and history that the claims of\ndogma are conditional, while the dictates of morality are imperative.\nThen, having established the priority and supremacy of the moral law,\nto examine what manner of substitute the ethical ideal can offer us to\nreplace the offices of the doctrinal religions; what are the hopes it\nholds out, what its consolations, what it can give us for the priesthood\nand the church. With this task we have been occupied during the year\nthat has gone by, and now, at the close, we propose to review once more,\nthe chief steps which we have taken in the course of our enquiry.\n\nWe discussed in the first place the doctrine of immortality, and some of\nthe main arguments upon which it is commonly founded.\n\nWe next proceeded to take up the study of the Hebrew Bible; for it is\nevident that so long as this book is clothed with infallible authority,\narguments based on fact and logic avail nothing, and reason is helpless\nbefore any random scriptural quotation. We examined the composition of\nthe work: we learned that many of those portions that are esteemed most\nancient, are of comparatively recent origin; that the text is studded\nwith discrepancies, and that the marks of savage and cruel customs such\nas the offering of human sacrifices to the Deity, are still clearly\nindented on the sacred volume. The conclusion followed that a book\nso full of contradiction, so deeply tinged with the evidence of human\nfallibility, could not have been the work of a divine author. The\ninspiration theory being thus divested of its support, we considered how\nbaneful *had been its influence on the course of human history; how it\nhad retarded the progress of the Jews among whom it arose; how it had\nchecked the intellectual development of Europe, how it had hampered\nthe advancement of science; how it had offered a specious plea for the\ndespotism of kings, and of the holy Inquisition; how in our own days it\nhad become in the hands of the Southern slaveholders a most formidable\nmeans of perpetuating their infamous scheme of oppression. We concluded\nthat whatever is false and worthless in the book we should feel at\nliberty to reject, while what is great and holy would not therefore\nbecome less great or less holy to us, because it was proven to be man's\nwork, man's testimony to the divine possibilities inherent in the human\nsoul.\n\nWe went on striving to penetrate more deeply the origin of that\nmysterious power which we call religion. To us it appeared that the\nfeeling of the sublime is the root of the religious sentiment in man.\nThat the Vedahs, Avesta, Koran, Bible are the songs of the nations on\nthe theme of the infinite; and that the moral ideal, whether we endow\nit with personality or not, presents to us the highest type of sublimity\nand is the sole object worthy of religious reverence.\n\n \"Who dare express him And who profess him\n Saying, 'I believe in him?'\n Who feeling, seeing, deny his being\n Saying I believe him not?\n\n \"Call it then what thou wilt\n Call it bliss, heart, love,\n God; I have no name to give it.\n Feeling is all in all,\n The name is sound and smoke.\"\n\nWe maintained lastly, that the entrance of the moral into the sphere\nof religion has endowed the latter with whatever excellence it now\npossesses.\n\nWe showed in another course of lectures, that every great religious\nmovement has been in the essence, a protest against the formalism and\nmock holiness of its time, and derived its vital impulses from the\nmoral elements with which it was suffused. We instanced the case of\nmonotheism, which, as we believe, arose in the struggle of the prophets\nagainst the immoral rites of Baal: We mentioned Buddha, the reformer of\nthe Hindoos, whose sermon of unselfishness won for him the affections\nof the people. We referred on frequent occasions to the fact that\nChristianity likewise triumphed because of the humanity of Jesus:\nbecause he was the Master of meekness; because his gospel was a gospel\nfor the poor. The result of all which was to confirm the priority\nof morality, and to show that it is indeed the source of whatever is\ndurable and valuable in the Creeds.\n\nToward the end of February the two hundredth anniversary of the death\nof Benedict Spinoza, afforded us a welcome opportunity to dwell upon the\nlife and philosophy of that illustrious thinker.\n\nLater on, we endeavored to comprehend the causes which have produced\nthat remarkable change the religious opinions of modern men, that is\ndaily becoming more widely apparent. We found them to be the critical\ninvestigation of the Bible, the progress of the natural sciences, and\nindirectly, the influence of commerce and of industry. We attempted\nto set forth how the introduction of machinery became the means of\nfostering the growth of scepticism even among those classes to whom the\narguments of scholars and men of science do not appeal. We spoke of the\nenlightenment of the masses, and considered the theory of those who\nhold that a religion, even when it is found to be false, should still\nbe maintained as a salutary curb upon the passions of the multitude. We\ninsisted that this view of religion is as unsound as it is degrading;\nthat while all men may not be capable of the highest order of\nintellectual action, all men are capable of heart goodness, and goodness\nis the better part of religion; that a generous confidence is the\nhighest principle of education, and that to trust men is the surest\nmeans of leading them to respond to our confidence; that we should cease\ntherefore to preach the depravity of human nature and preach rather the\ngrandeur which is possible to human nature; that in freedom alone can we\nbecome worthy of being free.\n\nAnd again in a distinct group of lectures we sought to unfold our\nconception of the New Ideal, and to point out that which distinguishes\nit from what has gone before. We spoke of its appeal to the higher\nnature, of its teachings concerning the Infinite within ourselves. We\nspoke of the priests that shall do its service; of the solace it affords\nus by its summons to larger duties; of the ethical schools that shall be\nerected for its culture; of the manner in which women may be prepared\nto aid in its propaganda; lastly of the form which it may assume in the\nfuture, in our discourse on the Order of the Ideal. Thus far have we\nproceeded. We issued our appeal, at first, as men uncertain what the\nfortunes of their enterprise might be. But while we avowed it to be an\nexperiment, we were deeply convinced that it was an experiment which\ndeserved to be tried. And more and more as week followed week, the\nresponse from your side came back full and cordial; and more and more\nas the scope and the ultimate tendencies of our work were developed, new\nfriends came to us whom we had not known, and it became apparent that\nthere is a deep, downright purpose in your midst which will form a bond\nof union for us that shall not easily be snapped asunder. Until at\nlast after a period had gone by, you thought it time to exchange your\ntemporary organization for one more stable, and you declared to all who\nmight be interested in learning it, that it is your intention and your\nhope to become a permanent institution in this community.\n\nWe have made a beginning only. If we look ahead, dangers and\ndifficulties still lie thickly on our path. The larger work is still\nbefore us. But we will confide in the goodness of our cause, and believe\nthat if it be good indeed, in the end it must succeed.\n\nThe country in which we live is most favorable for such experiments as\nours. There are lands of older culture, and men' there of wider vision\nand maturer wisdom, but nowhere, as in America, is a truth once seen,\nso readily applied, nowhere do even the common order of men so feel\nthe responsibility for what transpires, and the impulse to see the best\naccomplished. Here no heavy hand of rulers crushes the incipient good.\nWhen the Pilgrims set out on their voyage across the unknown Atlantic,\nRobinson, their pastor, their leader, addressed them once more before\nthey embarked, and in that solemn hour of parting, warned them against\nthe self-sufficiency of a false conservatism, and dedicated them and the\nnew states they might found, to the increase and the service of larger\ntruths. To larger truths America is dedicated.\n\nO, if it were thine, America, America that hast given political liberty\nto the world, to give that spiritual liberty for which we pant, to break\nalso those spiritual fetters that load thy sons and daughters! All over\nthis land thousands are searching and struggling for the better, they\nknow not what. Oh that we might aid them in the struggle, and they us;\nand the hearts of many be knit together once more in a common purpose\nthat would lift them above their sordid, weary cares, and ennoble their\nlives and make them glorious! The crops are waiting; may the reapers\ncome!\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\n\n\nI. THE EVOLUTION OF HEBREW RELIGION.\n\n \"Dans l'opinion du peuple pour qui ces liyres ont ete ecrits\n le point capital et essentiel n'est certes pas la narration\n historiquc, mais bien la legislation et l'idification\n religieuse.\"\n\nIn 1795, Frederick Augustus Wolf published a modest octavo volume\nentitled \"Prolegomena to Homer,\" from whose appearance is dated the\nbeginning of a new era of historic criticism. The composition of the\npoems of Homer formed its subject. For wellnigh twenty years the author\nhad collected evidence, weighed arguments, and patiently tested his\nresults by constant revision. His own wishes were engaged on the side of\nthe unity of the great Grecian epic. But the results of his researches\ncontinued to point in the opposite direction, and at last his earnest\ndevotion to truth compelled him to adopt a theory the soundness of whose\nconstruction seemed to be no longer questionable. He was thus worthy\nto become the \"founder of the science of philology in its present\nsignificance.\" ** The influence of Wolfs discovery was not confined to\nthe study of classic literature only.\n\n * \"In the estimation of the people for whom these books were\n written, the capital, essential point surely was, not the\n historic narrative, but rather legislation and religious\n edification.\" (Noldeke, 'Histoire Litte'raire de l'Ancien\n Testament,' p. 19.)\n\n ** Bonitz, \"Ueber den Ursprung der Homerischen Gedichte.\"\n\nIt quickly radiated through every department of history. \"In every\nsinging age,\" he said, \"a single saeculum is almost like a single man.\nIt is all one mind, one soul.\"* This conception involved a new social\nlaw, and radically altered the current opinions concerning the relation\nof individual effort to the larger forces that affect the development\nof nations. The creative energy of remarkable minds was not, indeed,\nlessened in importance, but spontaneity, in this connection, acquired\na new meaning; and for the _Deus ex machina_ of the olden time\nwas substituted the cumulative force of centuries of progressive\nadvancement, culminating, it is true, at last in the triumphant\nsynthesis of genius. The commotion which the Wolfian theory has stirred\nup in the literary world is largely due to the wide range of ideas\nwhich it affected. Yet it was itself but a part of that general movement\nwhich, toward the close of the last century, became conspicuous in its\neffects on every field of human inquiry. Everywhere the shackles of\nauthority were thrown off, and, in place of blindly accepting the\ntestimony of the past, men turned to investigate for themselves. A new\nprinciple of research was everywhere acknowledged, a new method\nwas created, and science, natural and historical, entered upon that\nastonishing career of discovery whose rich promise for the future we\nhave but begun to anticipate.**\n\n * In a letter given in Kttrte's \"Leben und Studien F. A\n Wolf s.\" i., p. 307.\n\n ** Scientific pursuits are distinguished from others, not by\n the material, but by the method of knowledge. The mere\n collection of data, however multiplied in detail, however\n abstruse the subjects to which they may refer, does not of\n itself deserve the name of science. The term properly\n applies only when phenomena are placed in causal relation,\n and the laws which govern their development are traced.\n Measured by this standard, every attempt to explain the\n growth of human thought and institutions, and to elucidate\n the laws which have acted in the process of their evolution,\n has a just claim to be classed under the head of scientific\n inquiry.\n\nTo the impetus given by Wolf, and to the new-born spirit of science\nwhich he carried into the sphere of philology, we owe among other\nvaluable results the beginnings of a more critical inquiry into the\nrecords of the ancient Hebrew religion. Indeed, the author of the\n\"Prolegomena\" himself clearly foresaw the influence which his book was\ndestined to exert on Hebrew studies. In a letter, from which we have\nalready quoted above, he says: \"The demonstration that the Pentateuch is\nmade up of unequal portions, that these are the products of different\ncenturies, and that they were put together shortly after the time of\nSolomon, may, ere long, be confidently expected. I should myself be\nwilling to undertake such an argument without fear, for nowhere do we\nfind any ancient witness to guarantee the authorship of the Pentateuch\nto Moses himself.\"*\n\n * Letter in Korte's \"Leben und Studien F. A. Wolf,\" i., p.\n 309.\n\nThe prediction embodied in these words soon came true. A host of\ncompetent scholars took up the study of the Hebrew Bible, and, profiting\nby Wolf's example and suggestions, applied to its elucidation the same\ncareful methods, the same scrupulous honesty of interpretation, that had\nproved so successful in the realm of classical philology. Theologians\nby profession, they set aside their predilections, and placed the\nascertainment of the truth above all other interests. They believed in\nthe indestructible vitality of religion, and were willing to admit the\nfull light of criticism upon the scriptural page, confident that any\nloss would be temporary only, the gain permanent. In the course of\ntheir researches they arrived, among others, at the following important\nconclusions:\n\nThat the editor of the Pentateuch had admitted into his volume several\naccounts touching the main facts of early Hebrew history; that these\naccounts are often mutually at variance; that minute analysis and\ncareful comparison alone can lead to an approximately true estimate\nof their comparative value; and, lastly, that the transmission of\nhistorical information had in no wise been the object of the Hebrew\nwriters. The history of their people served, it is true, to illustrate\ncertain of their doctrines concerning the divine government of the\nworld, and especially the peculiar relations of the Deity to the chosen\nrace; but it was employed much in the sense of a moral tale, being\ndesigned, not to convey facts, but to enforce lessons. Had the\nacceptance of any particular scheme of Hebrew history been deemed\nessential to the integrity of religious belief, the Bible, they argued,\nwould certainly not have included discrepant accounts of that history in\nits pages. In the light of this new insight, it seemed advisable to draw\na distinction between the biblical narrative proper and the doctrines\nwhich it was designed to illustrate. The latter belong to the province\nof faith, and their treatment may be left to the expounders of faith.\nThe former is a department of general history, and in dealing with it\nwe are at liberty to apply the same canons of criticism that obtain in\nevery other department, without fearing to trespass upon sacred ground.\nIt is our purpose in the following pages to present some of the\nmore interesting results that have been reached in the study of the\nPentateuch, so far as they illustrate the evolution of religious ideas\namong the Hebrews. We shall begin by summarizing a few instances of\ndiscrepant testimony to introduce our subject, and, in particular, to\nshow how little the ordinary purposes of history have been considered\nin the composition of the biblical writings; how little the bare\ntransmission of facts was an object with the sacred authors.*\n\nThe Scriptures open with two divergent accounts of the creation. In\nGenesis i., the work of creation proceeds in two grand movements,\nincluding the formation of inanimate and animate Nature respectively.**\nOn the first day a diffused light is spread out over chaos. Then are\nmade the firmament, the dry earth, the green herbs, and fruit-bearing\ntrees; on the fourth day the great luminaries are called into being; on\nthe fifth, the fishes and birds of the air; on the sixth, the beasts of\nthe field; and, lastly, crowning all, man, his Maker's masterpiece. The\nhuman species enters at once upon its existence _as a pair_. \"Male and\nfemale did he create them.\" In the second chapter the same methodical\narrangement, the same deliberate progress from the lower to the\nhigher forms of being, is not observed. Man, his interests and\nresponsibilities, stand in the foreground of the picture. The trees of\nthe field are not made until after Adam; and, subsequently to them,\nthe cattle and beasts. Moreover, man is a solitary being. A comparison\nbetween his lonely condition and the dual existence of the remainder\nof the animal world leads the Deity to determine upon the creation of\nwoman. A profound slumber then falls upon Adam, a rib is taken from\nhis side, and from it Eve is fashioned.* We may observe that the\nname Jehovah, as appertaining to the Deity, is employed in the second\nchapter, while it is scrupulously avoided in the first. The recognition\nof this distinction has led to further discoveries of far-reaching\nimportance, but too complicated in their nature to be here detailed.\nThe conflicting statements of the two accounts, which we have just\nindicated, have induced scholars to regard them as the work of different\nwriters. In Genesis iv. we learn that in the days of Enoch, Adam's\ngrandson, men began to call on the name of Jehovah; in Exodus vi, on\nthe contrary, that the name Jehovah was first revealed to Moses, being\nunknown even to the patriarchs.\n\n * Many of the following examples are familiarly known. A\n few, however, are drawn from recent investigations. Compare,\n especially, Kuenen, \"The Religion of Israel.\"\n\n ** Tuch's \"Genesis,\" p. 3, second edition, Halle, 1871.\n\nGen. xvi., Hagar is driven from her home by the jealousy of her\nmistress; escapes into the desert; beholds a vision of God at a well in\na wilderness. Gen. xxi., the flight of Hagar is related a second time.\nThe general scheme of the narrative is the same as above; but there\nare important divergencies of detail. As narrated in chapter xvi., the\nescape took place immediately before the birth of Ishmael. Fifteen years\nelapsed,** and Ishmael, now approaching the years of maturity, is once\nmore driven forth from the house of Abraham. But, to our surprise, in\nchapter xxi. the lad is described as a mere infant; he is carried on\nhis mother's shoulders, and laid away, like a helpless babe, under some\nbushes by the wayside. It appears that we have before us two accounts\ntouching the same event, agreeing in the main incidents of the escape,\nbut showing a disagreement of fifteen years as to the date of its\noccurrence. The narratives are distinguished as above by the employment\nof different names of the Deity: Jehovah in the one instance, Elohim in\nthe other.\n\n * For an account of the close analogy between the biblical\n narration and the Persian story of Meshja and Meshjane,\n their temptation and fall, vide ibid. p. 40. It is of\n special importance to note that reference to the account of\n Genesis ii. is made only in the later literature of the\n Hebrews, ibid., p. 42.\n\n ** Gen. xvii. 25. In quoting from the Old Testament, we\n follow the order of the Hebrew text.\n\nGen. xxxii., Jacob at the fords of Jabbok, after wrestling during the\nnight with a divine being, receives the name of Israel. Gen. xxxv.,\nwithout reference to the previous account, the name Israel is conferred\nupon Jacob at a different place and under different circumstances.\n\nGen. xlix., the dispersion of the Levites among the tribes is\ncharacterized as a punishment and a curse. They are to be forever\nhomeless and fugitive. Deuteronomy xxxiii. and elsewhere, it is\ndescribed as a blessing. The Levites have been scattered as good seed\nover the land. They are apostles, commissioned to propagate Jehovah's\nlaw.\n\nPassing on to the second book of the Pentateuch, we pause before the\naccount of the Revelation on Mount Sinai, beyond a doubt the most\nimportant event of Israel's ancient history. Exodus xxiv. 2, Moses alone\nis to approach the divine presence. Exod. xix. 24, Aaron is to accompany\nhim. Exod. xxiv. 13, Aaron is to remain below and Joshua is to go in\nhis stead. Again, Exod. xxxiii. 20, instant death will overtake him\nwho beholds God. Exod. xxiv. 9-11, Moses, Aaron, two of his sons, and\nseventy elders of Israel \"ascended, and they saw the God of Israel....\nAlso, they saw God, and did eat and drink.\" Once more, Exod. xxiv. 4-7,\nMoses himself writes down the words of revelation in a book of covenant.\nExod. xxiv. 12, not Moses but God writes them; and, elsewhere, \"Two\ntables of stone inscribed by the finger of God.\"\n\nExod. xx. enjoins the observance of the sabbath-day as a memorial of\nthe repose of the Maker of heaven and earth on the sabbath of creation.\nDeut. v., the fourth commandment is enjoined because of the redemption\nof Israel from Egyptian bondage. Exod. xxxiv., a new version of the\ndecalogue, differing in most respects from the one commonly received,\nis promulgated.* The first commandment is to worship no strange god;\nthe second, to make no graven images; the third, to observe the feast\nof unleavened bread; the fourth, to deliver the first-born unto Jehovah;\nthe fifth, to observe the sabbath, etc.\n\n * Compare De Wette's \"Einleitung in das alte Testament\"\n (Schrader's edition), p. 286, note 53.\n\nIn Exod. xx. we read that the guilt of the fathers will be avenged upon\nthe children down even to the third and fourth generation; in Deut.\nxxiv., the children shall not die for their fathers. Every one for his\nown sin shall die.\n\nIn Deut. xxv. the marrying of a deceased brother's wife is under certain\nconditions enjoined as a duty. In Levit. xviii. it is unconditionally\nprohibited as a crime.\n\nExod. xxxiii., Moses removes the tabernacle beyond the camp. Num. ii.,\nthe tabernacle rests in the very heart of the camp, with all the tribes\nof Israel grouped round about it, according to their standards and\ndivisions.\n\nNum. xvi., the sons of Korah, the leader of the great Leviti-cal\nsedition, perish with their father. Num. xxvi., the sons of Korah do not\nperish.*\n\nOf the forty years which the Israelites are said to have dwelt in the\ndesert, not more than two are covered by the events of the narrative.\nThe remainder are wrapped in dense obscurity. There is, however, a\nsignificant fact which deserves mention in this connection. The death\nof Aaron marks, as it were, the close of Israel's journey. Now, while in\nNum. xxxiii. the death of the high-priest is described as occurring in\nthe fortieth year, in Deut. x. it is actually referred to the second\nyear of the Exodus.**\n\n * Num. xxvi. 11. Indeed, had the sons of Korah and every\n human being related to him perished, as Num. xvi. avers, how\n could we account for the fact that Korah's descendants\n filled high offices in the Temple at Jerusalem later on?\n The celebrated singer, Heman, himself was a lineal\n descendant of Korah. To the descendants of Korah also are\n ascribed the following Psalms: Ps. xlii., xliv.-xlix.,\n lxxxiv., lxxxv., lxxxvii., lxxxviii.\n\n ** In connection with this subject it is of interest to\n compare Goethe's argument in the \"Westoslicher Divan\" on the\n duration of the desert journey. Here, as in so many other\n instances, the intuitive perception of the great poet\n anticipated the tardy results of subsequent investigation.\n\nA brief digression beyond the borders of the Pentateuch will show that\nthe conflict of testimony which we have thus far noticed, affecting as\nit does some of the leading events of ancient Hebrew history, does not\ndiminish as we proceed in the narrative. In I Samuel vii. it is said\nthat the Philistines ceased to harass the land of Israel all the days of\nSamuel. Immediately thereupon we read of new Philistine incursions more\ndireful than ever in their consequences.* The popular proverb, \"Is Saul\namong the prophets?\" is variously explained, I Sam. x. and xix. Two\ndiscrepant accounts are given of Saul's rejection from the kingdom, I\nSam. xiii. and xv.; of David's introduction to Saul, i Sam. xvi. and\nxvii. The charming story of David's encounter with the giant Goliath\ntold in I Sam. xvii. is contradicted in 2 Sam. xxi. 19, where, not\nDavid, but some person otherwise unknown to fame, is reported to\nhave slain the giant Goliath, and also the time, place, and attendant\ncircumstances, are differently related.**\n\n * Compare 1 Sam. vii. 13, and 1 Sam. xiii. 19.\n\n ** In 1 Chron. xx. 5, we read, \"the brother of Goliath.\" The\n purpose of the change is clear, and accords well with the\n apologetical tendencies of the author of Chronicles. Vide De\n Wette, \"Einleitung,\" etc., p. 370. Geiger, \"Urschrift.\"\n\nIt thus appears that the compiler of the Pentateuch has admitted a\nvariety of views, not only on the ancient history of his people, but\nalso on the general subject of religion and morals, into his work; and\nthat the discordant opinions of diverse authors and of diverse stages of\nhuman progress are reflected in its pages. It is the monument of a grand\nreligious movement extending over many centuries of gradual development.\nIt is the image of a nation's struggles and growth. As contained in the\nbooks of the Pentateuch, the Mosaic religion is a religious mosaic.\n\nIn the foregoing sketch we have observed how deep a mist of uncertainty\nhangs over the earliest period, the golden age of the history of the\nHebrews. All is in a state of flux, and what appeared compact and\ncoherent at a distance yields to our touch upon closer contact. To gain\n_terra firma_ let us turn to the period which immediately succeeded the\nsettlement of the Israelites in Palestine; a period in which the outline\nof historical events begins to assume a more definite and tangible\nshape.\n\nIt was a dismal and sorrowful age. The bonds of social order were\nloosened; the current conceptions of the Deity and the rites of his\nworship were gross and often degrading. Mutual jealousies kindled the\nfirebrand of war among the contending clans. Almost the whole tribe of\nBenjamin was extirpated. Abimelech slew seventy princes upon one stone.\nLust and treachery ran riot. A wilder deed has never been chronicled in\nthe annals of mankind than that related in chapter xix. of Judges,\nnor ever has a terrible deed been more terribly avenged. Now, looking\nbackward, we ask, Is it to be believed that in the fourteenth century B.\nC. not only the leader of Israel, but also their elders, their priests,\nnay, large numbers of the very populace, shared in the most exalted,\nthe most spiritual conceptions of God, and nourished the most refined\nsentiments in regard to human relationships, while immediately\nthereupon, and centuries thereafter, violence and bloodshed, and\nidolatry, do not cease from the records? It has been argued, indeed,\nthat the worship of idols was but a _relapse_ from the purity of a\npreceding age; and that, though the tradition of the Mosaic time may\nhave been lost in the succeeding period among the people at large, it\nwas still preserved in the circle of a select few, the judges, King\nDavid, and others. These, it is believed, continued to remain faithful\ndisciples of the great lawgiver. But these very men, the judges--King\nDavid himself--all fall immeasurably below the standard that is set up\nin the Pentateuch. If they were esteemed the true representatives of\nthe national religion in their day, if the very points in which they\ntransgressed the provisions of the Mosaic code are distinguished by\nthe approval of God and man, we are forced to conclude that that\nstandard--by which they stand condemned--did not yet exist; that, in\nthe days of David, the laws of Moses, as we now have them; were as yet\nunwritten and unknown. Let us illustrate this important point by a few\nexamples taken from the records. Gideon no sooner returns from victory\nthan he makes a golden idol and sets it up for worship. Jephthah\nslays his daughter as an offering of thanksgiving to Jehovah. In\nthe Pentateuch the adoration of images is branded as the gravest of\noffences. David keeps household gods in his own home (Sam. xix). In the\nPentateuch, on its opening page, God is proclaimed as a pure spirit,\nmaker of heaven and earth. In the eyes of David (1 Sam, xxvi. 19), the\nsway of Jehovah does not extend beyond the borders of Palestine.* In the\nPentateuch the ark of the covenant is described as the treasury of all\nthat is brightest and best in the worship of the one God. None but\nthe consecrated priest dare approach it, and even he only under\ncircumstances calculated to inspire peculiar veneration and awe. In 2\nSam. vi., David abandons the ark to the keeping of a heathen Philistine.\nIn an early age of culture, when fear and terror in the presence of\nsuperior force entered largely into the religious conceptions of\nthe Hebrews, the taking of the census was deemed an act of grave\ntransgression. It appeared a vaunting of one's strength; it seemed to\nindicate a defiant attitude toward the loftier power of the Deity, which\nhe would certainly visit with condign punishment. At a later period the\npriesthood found it in their interest to override these scruples, and\nthe taking of the census became an affair of habitual occurrence. In\nthe last chapter of Samuel the more primitive view still predominated.\nSeventy thousand Israelites are miserably slain to atone for King\nDavid's presumption in commanding a census of the people. In the fourth\nbook of Moses, on the other hand, the numbering of the people not only\nproceeds without the slightest evil resulting therefrom, but at the\nexpress command of God himself.\n\nIn the book of Deuteronomy the service of Jehovah is said to consist\nmainly in the practice of righteousness, in works of kindness toward our\nfellows, in sincere and holy love toward the Deity, who is represented\nas the merciful father of all his human children. Second Sam. xxi., a\nfamine comes upon the land of Israel. The anger of Jehovah is kindled\nagainst the people. To appease him, David offers sacrifice--human\nsacrifice. The seven sons of Saul are slain, and their bodies kept\nexposed on the hill, \"in sight of Jehovah,\" and the horrid offering _is\naccepted_, and the divine wrath is thereby pacified.** Truly, in the age\nof in the beginning of the barley-harvest. This circumstance seems to\nthrow light on the primitive mode of celebrating the Passover. That the\nrite of human sacrifice was originally connected with this festival is\ngenerally acknowledged. Vide, e. g., Exod. xiii., 2. By such offerings\nit was intended, no doubt, to secure the favor of the god during the\ncontinuance of the harvest.\n\n * Banishment being described as a transfer of allegiance to\n strange gods.\n\n ** It is important to note that the seven sons of Saul were\n sacrificed\n\nDavid, the Hebrews were far, far removed from the high state of culture\nin which the ideal conception of religion that pervades Deuteronomy\nbecame possible. And long after, when centuries had gone by and the\nkingdom of Judah was already approaching its dissolution, the direful\npractices of David's reign still survived, and the root of idolatry had\nnot been plucked from the heart of the people. Still do we hear of human\nsacrifice perpetrated in the midst of Jerusalem, and steeds and chariots\ndedicated to the sun-god, and images of the Phallus, and all the\nabominations of sensual worship, filled the very Temple of Jehovah.\n\nBut in the meantime a new force had entered the current of Hebrew\nhistory. The conviction that one God, and he an all-just, almighty\nbeing, ruled the destinies of Israel, began to take root. In the eighth\ncentury B. C. authentic records prove that monotheism, as a form of\nreligious belief, obtained, at least among the more illustrious members\nof the prophetic order. We have elsewhere attempted to trace the causes\nwhich led to the rise of monotheism at this particular epoch, and can do\nno more than briefly allude to them here.\n\nWhen the mountaineers of Southern Palestine, after centuries of\nprotracted struggles, had secured the safe possession of individual\nhomes, the endearments of domestic life were invested with a sanctity in\ntheir eyes never before known. The attachment of the Hebrew toward his\noffspring was intensified; his devotion to the wife of his bosom became\npurer and more enduring. Now, the prevailing forms of Semitic religion\noutraged these feelings at every point. The gods of the surrounding\nnations were gods of pleasure and of pain; and in their worship the\nstern practices of fanatic asceticism alternated with the wildest orgies\nof sensual enjoyment. The worship of Baal Moloch demanded the sacrifice\nof children; that of the lascivious Baaltis insulted the modesty of\nwoman. The nobler spirits among the Hebrews rebelled against both these\ndemands. And, as the latter were put forth in the name of the dominant\nreligion, the inevitable conclusion followed that that religion itself\nmust be radically wrong. The spirit of opposition thus awakened was\naroused into powerful activity when, in the days of Ahab, the queen,\nsupported by an influential priesthood, determined to introduce the\nforms of Phoenician religion in Israel by measures of force. The\nroyal edicts were resisted, but for a while the rule of the stronger\nprevailed. The leaders of the opposition were compelled to flee, and,\navoiding the habitations of men, to take refuge in wild and solitary\nplaces. Thus the rupture was widened into schism, and persecution\ninflamed the zeal and kindled the energies of that new order of men of\nwhom Elijah is the well-known type.\n\nThrough their agency the emotional nature of the Semitic race now found\nexpression in a form of religious worship loftier by far than any\nthat had ever arisen among men. If Baal was the embodiment of Semitic\nasceticism and Baaltis the type of sensual orgiastic passion, the\nnational God of Israel now became the type of a nobler emotion, the\nguardian of domestic purity, the source of sanctity, the ideal Father.\nIt is indeed the image of a just patriarch that fills the mind and\nwings the fancy of the eldest prophets, when they describe the nature of\nJehovah, their God. Jehovah is the husband of the people. Israel shall\nbe his true and loyal spouse. The children of Israel are his children.\nUnchastity and irreligion are synonymous terms. And thus, if we err not,\nthe peculiar feature of Hebrew character, their faithful attachment\nto kith and kin, the strength and purity of their domestic affections,\nserves to explain the peculiar character, the origin and development\nof the Hebrew religion. And because the essential elements of the new\nreligion were moral elements it could not tolerate the Nature-worship of\nthe heathens: and the way was prepared for the gradual ascendency of\nthe purely spiritual in religion, which after ages of gradual progress\nconstituted the last, the lasting triumph of prophecy.\n\nAfter ages of development! For we are not to suppose that, in the\ncenturies succeeding Hosea, the doctrines of the prophetic schools had\nbecome in any sense the property of the people at large. \"The powers\nthat be\" were arrayed against them, and the annals of the kings are\nreplete with evidence of their sufferings. It was in the late reign\nof Josiah that they at last received not only the countenance of the\nreigning monarch, but also a decisive influence upon the direction of\naffairs. In that reign a scroll was found in the temple imbued with the\ndoctrine of the unity of God, and breathing the vigorous spirit of the\nprophets. In it was emphasized the heart's religion in preference to the\nempty ceremonial of priestly worship. The allegiance of the people was\ndirected toward the God who had elected them from among the nations of\nthe earth, and dire disaster was predicted in case of disobedience.\nWhen brought to the king and read in his presence, he was powerfully\naffected, and determined, if possible, to stem the tide of impending\nruin by such salutary measures of reform as the injunctions of the\nnewly-found Scripture seemed most urgently to call for. The concurrence\nof many critics has identified this scroll, written and published at or\nabout the time when the youthful Josiah succeeded to the throne of his\nancestors, with Deuteronomy, the fifth of the books of Moses. It differs\nmaterially from the more recent writings of the Pentateuch. The family\nof Aaron are not yet exclusively endowed with the priesthood. The\npriests are all Levites, the Levites all priests. There are, moreover,\nother vital differences, into which the limits of this article do not\npermit us to enter.* The date of the composition of Deuteronomy is thus\nreferred to the closing decades of the seventh century B. C.**\n\n * E. G., the rebellion of Korah is unknown to the author of\n Deuteronomy.\n\n ** The language of Deuteronomy attests its late origin.\n Sixty-six phrases of Deuteronomy recur in the writings of\n Jeremiah. Vide Zunz, Zeitschrift der Deutschen\n Morgenlandischen Gesellschaft, xxviii., p. 670.\n\nThe princes who succeeded Josiah fell back into the old course, and\nquite undid the work which had begun with such fair promise. Indeed,\nlittle permanent good was to be hoped for in so disordered a condition\nof political affairs, and from the degenerate rulers who then swayed\nthe helm of state. The fortunes of the kingdom of Judah were swiftly\ndeclining, and not fully a quarter of a century after the pious Josiah\nhad breathed his last, Nebuchadnezzar burned the Temple of Jerusalem,\nand carried its inhabitants captive to Babylon.\n\nHeretofore, with but a brief, brilliant interlude, idolatry had been\nthe court religion of Judah. Early training, long usage, the example of\nrevered ancestors, had endeared its forms and symbols to the affections\nof the people. Resistance to the innovating prophets was natural; men\nbeing then, as ever, loath to abandon the sacred usages which had come\ndown to them from the distant generations of the past. But, in the long\nyears of the captivity, a profound change came over the spirit of\nthe Hebrew people; \"by Babel's streams they sat and wept;\" by Babel's\nstreams they recalled the memories of their native land, that land which\nthey had lost. It was then that the voices of Jehovah's messengers,\nwhich had so earnestly warned them of the approaching doom, recurred to\ntheir startled recollection. They remembered the message; they beheld\nits fulfillment; the testimony of the prophets had been confirmed by\nevents; the one God to whom they testified had revealed his omnipotence\nin history; and with ready assent the exiles promised allegiance to his\ncommandments in the future. The love of country, the dread of further\nchastisement, the dear hope of restoration, combined to win them to\nthe purer worship of their God, and, in the crucible of Babylon, the\nnational religion was purged of the last dregs of heathendom.\n\nWith the permission of Cyrus, the Jews returned to Palestine and the\nTemple at Jerusalem was rebuilt. The question now arose in what\nforms the ceremonial of the new sanctuary should be conducted. The\ntime-honored festivals, the solemn and joyful convocations, the\nsacrifices and purifications of the olden time, were all more or\nless infected with the taint of paganism. Prophecy would have none of\nthem--prophecy, free child of genius, contemned sacrifice, denounced the\npriesthood, even the temple and its ritual;* proclaimed humbleness and\nloving-kindness as the true service in which Jehovah takes delight.\nThere was formalism on the one hand, idealism on the other. As is\nusual in such cases, when the time had arrived for turning theory into\npractice, it was found necessary to effect a compromise.\n\n * Jeremiah vii. 4; Isaiah lxvi. 1; Micah vi. 6.\n\nAs Christianity in later days adopted the yule-tree into its system, and\nlit the lamps of the heathen festival of the 25th of December in honor\nof the nativity of its founder, so the leaders of the Jews, in the fifth\ncentury before our era, adopted the feasts and usages of an ancient\nNature-worship, breathed into them a new spirit informed them with a\nloftier meaning, and made them tokens, symbols of the eternal God. The\nold foes were thus reconciled; priesthood and prophecy joined hands, and\nwere thenceforth united. As an offspring of this union, we behold a new\ncode of laws and prescriptions, whose marked and inharmonious features\nat once betray the dual nature of its progenitors. \"A rough preliminary\ndraft, as it were,\" of this code, is preserved in the book of Ezekiel,\ncomposed probably about the middle of the fifth century. In its finished\nand final shape, it forms the bulk of a still later work--of Leviticus,\nnamely the third of the books of the Pentateuch: of all the discoveries\nof criticism none more noteworthy, none we are permitted to consider\nmore assured. What lends additional certainty to the result is the\ncircumstance that it was reached independently by two of the most\nesteemed scholars of our day, the one a Professor of Theology in the\nUniversity of Leyden,* the other a veteran of thought, whose brow is\nwreathed by the ripe honors of more than fourscore years.** Let us\nbriefly advert to the line of argument by which this astonishing\nconclusion was reached:\n\n * Prof. A. Kuenen.\n\n ** The venerable Dr. Zunz, of Berlin.\n\nThe author of the book of Ezekiel was a priest, and one confessedly\nloyal to the sanctuary of Jerusalem. Now, had the laws of the Levitical\ncode, which minutely describe the ritual of that sanctuary, existed, or\nbeen regarded as authoritative in his day, he could not, would not have\ndisregarded, much less contradicted, their provisions. He does this,\nand, be it remarked, in points of capital importance. In chapter xlv.\nof Ezekiel are mentioned the great festivals, with the sacrifices\nappropriate to each; but the feast of Pentecost, commanded in Leviticus,\nis entirely omitted; also that of the eighth day of tabernacles. The\nsecond of the daily burnt-offerings, upon which the legislator of the\nfourth book of Moses dwells with such marked emphasis, is not commanded.\nThe order of sacrifices appointed in Ezekiel is at variance with that in\nthe more recent code. Ezekiel nowhere mentions the ark of the covenant.\nAccording to him, the new year begins on the tenth of the seventh month,\nwhile the festival of the trumpets, ordained in Leviticus for the first\nof that month (the present new year of the Jews), is nowhere referred\nto. We are not to suppose, however, that the festivals, the ark, etc.,\ndid not yet exist in the time of Ezekiel. They existed, no doubt,\nbut were still too intimately associated with pagan customs and\nsuperstitions to receive or merit the countenance of a prophetic writer.\nIn Leviticus the process of assimilation above described had reached its\nclimax. The new meaning had been successfully engrafted upon the\nrites and symbols of the olden time; and they were thenceforth freely\nemployed. The legislation of the Levitical code exhibits the familiar\nfeatures which in every instance mark the ascendency or consolidation of\nthe hierarchical order. The lines of gradation and distinction between\nthe members of the order among themselves are precisely drawn and\nstrictly adhered to. The prerogatives of the whole order as against the\npeople are fenced about with stringent laws. The revenues of the order\nare largely increased. In the older code of Deuteronomy, the annual\ntithes were set apart for a festival occasion, and given over to the\nenjoyment of the people. In the new code, the hierarchy claims the\ntithes for its own use. New taxes are invented. The best portions of\nthe sacrificial animal are reserved for the banquets of the Temple.\nThe first-born of men and cattle belong to the priesthood, and must be\nransomed by the payment of a sum of money. In no period prior to the\nfifth century B. C. was the hierarchy powerful enough to design such\nlaws. At that time, however, when in the absence of a temporal sovereign\nthey, with the high-priest at their head, were the acknowledged rulers\nof the state, they were both prepared to conceive and able to carry\nthem into effect. The language of Leviticus contributes not a little to\nbetray its late origin.* The period in the history of the Jews, when\nthe fear of taking the name of the Lord in vain induced men to avoid,\nif possible, mentioning it at all. We find ha Shem in the above sense in\nLev. xxiv. 11. authorship of Moses attributed to the Levitical code is\nsymbolical. The name of Moses is utterly unknown to the elder prophets.\n\n * To mention only a single instance, ha Shem (meaning the\n name, i. e. the ineffable name of God) was not employed\n until very late.\n\nIn all their manifold writings it does not occur a single time, though\nthey make frequent reference to the past. There can now be little doubt\nthat the composition of the bulk of Leviticus, and of considerable\nportions of the books of Numbers, Exodus, and even parts of Genesis,\nbelongs to the epoch of the second Temple, and that the date of these\nwritings may be approximately fixed at about one thousand years after\nthe time of Moses. As to the story of Israel's desert wanderings, it\nrests upon ancient traditions whose character it is not our present\nbusiness to investigate. It was successively worked up in various\nschools of priests and prophets, and this accounts for the host of\ndiscrepancies it contains, some of which have been noticed in the\nbeginning of this essay. It was finally amplified by the inventive\ngenius of the second-Temple priesthood, who succeeded in heightening the\nsanctity of their own institutions by tracing them back to a revered,\nheroic person, who had lived in the dim days of remote antiquity.\n\nIn the preceding pages we have indicated the more important phases of\nthat conflict which ended in the establishment of monotheism, a conflict\nwhose traces, though sometimes barely legible, are still preserved\nin our records. We saw in the first instance that the Mosaic age is\nshrouded in uncertainty. We pointed out that pure monotheism was unknown\nin the time of the early kings. We briefly referred to the rise of\nmonotheism. Finally, we endeavored to show how the prophetic idea had\nbeen successively expressed in various codes, each corresponding to a\ncertain stage in the great process of evolution. From what we have said,\nit follows that the prophetic ideal of religion is the root and core\nof all that is valuable in the Hebrew Bible. The laws, rites, and\nobservances, in which it found a temporary and changeful expression,\nmay lose their vitality; it will always continue to exert its high\ninfluence. It was not the work of one man, nor of a single age, but was\nreached in the long course of generations on generations, evolved amid\nerror and vice, slowly, and against all the odds of time. It has been\nsaid that the Bible is opposed to the theory of evolution. The Bible\nitself is a prominent example of evolution in history. It is not\nhomogeneous in all its parts. There are portions filled with tales of\nhuman error and fallibility. These are the incipient stages of an early\nage--the dark and dread beginnings. There are others thrilling with\nnoblest emotion, freighted with eternal truths, breathing celestial\nmusic. These are the triumph and the fruition of a later day. It is\nthus by discriminating between what is essentially excellent and what\nis comparatively valueless that we shall best reconcile the discordant\nclaims of reason and of faith. The Bible was never designed to convey\nscientific information, nor was it intended to serve as a text-book of\nhistory. In its ethical teachings lies its true significance. On them it\nmay fairly rest its claims to the immortal reverence of mankind.\n\nThere was a time in the olden days of Greece when it was demanded that\nthe poems of Homer should be removed from the schools, lest the minds of\nthe young might be poisoned by the weeds of superstitious belief. Plato,\nthe poet-philosopher, it was who urged this demand. That time is past.\nThe tales of the gods and heroes have long since ceased to entice our\ncredulity. The story of Achilles's wrath and the wanderings of the sage\nUlysses are not believed as history, but the beauty and freshness and\nthe golden poetry of the Homeric epic have a reality all their own, and\nare a delight and a glory now, as they have ever been before. The Bible\nalso is a classical book. It is the classical book of noble ethical\nsentiment. In it the mortal fear, the overflowing hope, the quivering\nlongings of the human soul toward the better and the best, have found\ntheir first, their freshest, their fittest utterance. In this respect it\ncan never be superseded.\n\nTo Greek philosophy we owe the evolution of the logical categories; to\nHebrew prophecy, the pure canon of moral principle and action. That\nthis result was the outcome of a long process of suffering and struggle\ncannot diminish its value in our estimation. When we compare the\ndegrading offices of the Hebrew religion in the days of the judges with\nthe lofty aspirations of the second Isaiah, when we remember the utter\nabyss of moral abasement from which the nobler spirits of the Hebrews\nrose to the free heights of prophecy, our confidence in the divine\npossibilities of the human soul is reinvigorated, our emulation is\nkindled, and from the great things already accomplished we gather the\ncheering promise of the greater things that are yet to come. It is in\nthis moral incentive that the practical value of the evolutionary theory\nchiefly lies.*\n\n * Most aptly has this thought been expressed in the lines\n with which Goethe welcomed the appearance of F. A. Wolfs\n \"Prolegomena.\"\n\n \"Erst die Gesundheit des Mannes, der, endhch vom Namen\n Homeros Kuhn uns befreiend, uns auch flihrt in die vollere\n Bahn. Denn wer wagte mit Gettern den Kampf? und wer mit dem\n Einen?--Doch Homeride zu seyn, auch nur als letzter, ist\n schon.\"\n\n The Elegy of Hermann und Dorothea\n\n\n\n\nII. REFORMED JUDAISM.\n\nThe Jews are justly called a peculiar people. During the past three\nthousand years they have lived apart from their fellow-men, in a state\nof voluntary or enforced isolation. The laws of the Pentateuch directed\nthem to avoid contact with heathens. Christianity in turn shunned\nand execrated them. Proud and sensitive by nature, subjected to every\nspecies of humiliation and contempt, they retired upon themselves, and\ncontinued to be what the seer from Aram had described them in the olden\ntime, \"A people that dwells in solitude.\"* It followed that, in the\nprogress of time, idiosyncrasies of character were developed, and\nhabits of thinking and feeling grew up amongst them, which could not but\ncontribute to alienate them still more from the surrounding world. They\nfelt that they were not understood. They were too shy to open their\nconfidence to their oppressors. They remained an enigma. At wide\nintervals books appeared purporting to give an account of the Jews and\ntheir sacred customs. But these attempts were, in the main, dictated by\nno just or generous motive. Their authors, narrow bigots or renegades\nfrom Judaism, ransacked the vast literature of the Hebrew people for\nsuch scattered fragments as might be used to their discredit, and\nexhibited these as samples of Jewish manners and Jewish religion.\nThe image thus presented, it is needless to say, was extremely\nuntrustworthy. And yet the writings of these partial judges have\nremained almost the only sources from which even many modern writers are\naccustomed to draw their information. The historian is yet to come who\nwill dispel the dense mists of prejudice that have gathered about Jewish\nhistory, and reveal the inward life of this wonderful people, whose\nperennial freshness has been preserved through so many centuries of\nthe most severe trials and persecution. In one respect, indeed, let us\nhasten to add, the popular judgment concerning the Jews has never been\ndeceived.\n\n * Numbers xxiii. 9.\n\nThe intense conservatism in religion for which they have become\nproverbial is fully confirmed by facts. There exists no other race of\nmen that has approved its fidelity to religious conviction for an equal\nperiod, under equal difficulties, and amid equal temptations. Antiochus,\nTitus, Firuz, Reccared, Edward I. of England, Philip Augustus of France,\nFerdinand of Spain, exhausted the resources of tyranny in vain to shake\ntheir constancy. Their power of resistance rose with the occasion that\ncalled it forth; and their fervid loyalty to the faith transmitted to\nthem by the fathers never appeared to greater, advantage than when it\ncost them their peace, their happiness, and their life to maintain\nit. Since the close of the last century, however, a great change has\napparently come over the Jewish people. Not only have they abandoned\ntheir former attitude of reserve and mingled freely with their\nfellow-citizens of whatever creed, not only have they taken a leading\npart in the great political revolutions that swept over Europe, but the\npassion for change, so characteristic of the age in which we live, has\nextended even to their time-honored religion; and a movement aiming at\nnothing less than the complete reformation of Judaism has arisen, and\nrapidly acquired the largest dimensions. The very fact that such a\nmovement should exist among such a people is rightly interpreted as a\nsign of the times deserving of careful and candid consideration; and\ngreat interest has accordingly been manifested of late on the subject\nof Jewish Reform. In a series of articles we shall undertake to give\na brief sketch of the origin and bearings of the movement. But before\naddressing ourselves to this task it will be necessary to review a few\nof the main causes that have enabled the Jews to perdure in history, and\nto consider the motives that impelled them to resist change so long, if\nwe would properly appreciate the process of transformation that is even\nnow taking place among them. Among the efficient forces that conduced to\nthe preservation of the Jewish people we rank highest:\n\n\n\n\nTHE PURITY OF THEIR DOMESTIC RELATIONS\n\nThe sacredness of the family tie is the condition both of the physical\nsoundness and the moral vigor of nations. The family is the miniature\ncommonwealth, upon whose integrity the safety of the larger commonwealth\ndepends. It is the seedplot of all morality. In the child's intercourse\nwith its parents the sentiment of reverence is instilled--the essence\nof all piety, all idealism; also the habit of obedience to rightful\nauthority, which forms so invaluable a feature in the character of the\nloyal citizen. In the companionship of brothers deference to the rights\nof equals is practically inculcated, without which no community could\nexist. The relations between brother and sister give birth to the\nsentiment of chivalry,--regard for the rights of the weaker,--and this\nforms the basis of magnanimity, and every generous and tender quality\nthat graces humanity. Reverence for superiors, respect for equals,\nregard for inferiors,--these form the supreme trinity of the virtues.\nWhatever is great and good in the institutions and usages of mankind\nis an application of sentiments that have drawn their first nourishment\nfrom the soil of the family. The family is the school of duties. But\nit has this distinguishing excellency, that among those who are linked\ntogether by the strong ties of affection duty is founded on love. On\nthis account it becomes typical of the perfect morality in all the\nrelations of life, and we express the noblest longings of the human\nheart when we speak of a time to come in which all mankind will be\nunited \"as one family.\" Now the preeminence of the Jews in point of\ndomestic purity will hardly be disputed. \"In this respect they stand\nout like a bold promontory in the history of the past, singular and\nunapproached,\" said the philosopher Trendelenburg.* According to the\nprovisions of the Mosaic Code, the crime of adultery is punished with\ndeath. The most minute directions are given touching the dress of the\npriests and the common people, in order to check the pruriency of fancy.\nThe scale of forbidden marriages is widely extended with the same end in\nview.\n\n * Vide the essay on the Origin of Monotheism in Jahrbuch des\n Vereins fur Wissenschaftliche Padagogik, Vol IX. 1877, by\n the author of this article.\n\nAlmost the entire tribe of Benjamin is extirpated to atone for an\noutrage upon feminine virtue committed within its borders. The undutiful\nson is stoned to death in the presence of the whole people. That husband\nand wife shall become \"as one flesh,\" is a conception which we find only\namong the Jews. Among them the picture of the true housewife which is\nunrolled to us in Proverbs had its original,--the picture of her who\nunites all womanly grace and gentleness, in whose environment dwell\ncomfort and beauty, \"whose husband and sons rise up to praise her.\" The\nmarriage tie was held so sacred that it was freely used by the prophets\nto describe the relations between the Deity and the chosen people.\nJehovah is called the husband of the people. Israel shall be his true\nand loyal spouse. The children of Israel are his children. The worship\nof false gods was designated by the Hebrew word that signifies conjugal\ninfidelity. This feature of Jewish life remained equally prominent in\nlater times. In the age of the Talmud marriage was called Hillula,--a\nsong of praise! The most holy day of the year, the tenth of the seventh\nmonth, a day of fasting and the atonement of sins, was deemed a proper\noccasion to collect the young people for the purpose of choosing\nhusbands and wives. On that day the maidens of Jerusalem, arrayed in\npure white, went out into the vineyards that covered the s of the\nneighboring hills, dancing as they went, and singing as the bands of\nyouth came up to meet them from the valleys. \"Youth, raise now thine\neyes,\" sang the beautiful among them, \"and regard her whom thou\nchoosest.\" \"Look not to beauty,\" sang the well-born, \"but rather to\nancient lineage and high descent.\" Lastly, those who were neither\nbeautiful nor well born took up the strain, and thus they sang:\n\"Treacherous is grace, and beauty deceitful; the woman that fears God\nalone shall be praised.\" The appropriateness of such proceedings on the\nAtonement day was justified by the remark that marriage is itself an act\nof spiritual purification. The high value attached to the institution of\nthe family is further illustrated by many tender legends of the Talmud\nwhich we cannot here stop to recount. A separate gate, it is said, was\nreserved in Solomon's Temple for the use of bridegrooms, before which\nthey received the felicitations of the assembled people. The marriage\ncelebration was essentially a festival of religion. Seven days it\nlasted. The Talmudic law, usually so unbending in its exactions, relaxed\nits austerity in favor of these auspicious occasions, and recommended to\nall to rejoice with the joyful. On the Sabbath of the marriage-week, the\nyoung husband was received with peculiar honors in the synagogue, and\nthe liturgy of the mediaeval Jews is crowded with hymns composed in\nhonor of these solemn receptions. If a whole congregation thus united\nto magnify and sanctify the erection of a new home, the continued\npreservation of its sanctity might safely be left to the jealous\nwatchfulness of its inmates. Cases of sensual excess or of unfilial\nconduct have been extremely infrequent among the Jews, down to modern\ntimes. However mean the outward appearance of their homes might be,\nthe moral atmosphere that pervaded them was rarely contaminated. If\nthe question be asked, how it came about that so feeble a people could\nresist the malevolence of its foes; that a nation, deprived of any\nvisible rallying-point, with no political or religious centre to cement\ntheir union, had not long since been wiped out from the earth's surface,\nwe answer that the hearth was their rallying-point and the centre of\ntheir union. There the scattered atoms gained consistency sufficient to\nwithstand the pressure of the world. Thither they could come to recreate\ntheir torn and lacerated spirits. There was the well-spring of their\npower.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SCHOOLS.\n\nIf the Jewish people were preserved in moral vigor by the influence\nof their domestic life, the care they bestowed on the education of the\nyoung kept them intellectually fresh. Schools were erected in every town\nand country district. It was forbidden a Jew to reside in cities where\nno provision had been made for the instruction of children. Teachers\nwere called the guardians of cities. The destruction of Jerusalem was\nattributed to the fact that the schools had been suffered to fall into\nneglect. Synagogues were often used for purposes of primary instruction.\n\"A sage is greater than a prophet,\" said the proverb. To increase in\nknowledge, at least in a certain kind of knowledge, was a part of the\nJew's religion. According to the theory of the Rabbies the revelation\nof God to man is fully embodied in the books of the Old Testament,\nespecially in the books of the Pentateuch, commonly called the\nTora,--the Law. They contain, either by direct statement or by\nimplication, whatever it is necessary for men to know. They anticipate\nall future legislation. Though apparently scanty in substance, they\nare replete with suggestions of profound and inexhaustible wisdom. To\npenetrate the hidden meanings of \"the Law\" became, on this account, the\nprimary obligation of the devout; and ignorance was not only despised\non its own account, but was, in addition, branded as a sign of deficient\npiety. The ordinances of the Jewish sages are all ostensibly deduced\nfrom the words of the Sacred Law. Without such sanction no enactment of\nany later lawgiver, however salutary in itself, could aspire to general\nrecognition. The civil and criminal law, the principles of science,\nsanitary and police regulations, even the rules of courtesy and decorum,\nare alike rested on scriptural authority. The entire Talmud may be\nroughly described as an extended commentary on the Mosaic Law.* The\nauthors of the Talmud led a studious life, and relied in great measure\nupon the habit of study to preserve the vitality of their faith. Among\nthe sayings of the sages** we read such as these. Jose ben Joeser says:\n\"Let thy house be the resort of the wise, and let the dust of their feet\ncover thee, and drink in thirstily their words.\" Joshua ben Perachia\nsays: \"Get thee an instructor, gain a companion [for thy studies], and\njudge all men upon the presumption of their innocence.\" Hillel says:\n\"Who gains not in knowledge loses.... Say not, 'When I am at leisure\nI will study'; 't is likely thou wilt never be at leisure.... He who\nincreases flesh increases corruption; he who increases worldly goods\nincreases care; he who increases servants increases theft; but he who\nincreases in the knowledge of the Law increases life.\" Jochanan ben\nSakkai says: \"If thou art wise in the knowledge of the Law, take not\ncredit to thyself, for to this end wast thou created.\"\n\n * For a concise but comprehensive account of the origin of\n the Talmud, vide the art. Talmud in Johnson's Encyclopaedia.\n\n ** Collected in the Tract Aboth (Fathers).\n\nAfter the destruction of the Temple by Titus, academies sacred to the\nstudy of the Law were erected in different cities of Palestine, and\nsimilar institutions flourished on the banks of the Euphrates. In the\neleventh century the chief seats of Jewish learning were transplanted\nto the West; and since that time the European Jews have excelled their\nbrethren of the East in all the elements of mental culture. In the\ncourse of their manifold wanderings the Jews carried their libraries\neverywhere with them. Wherever a synagogue arose, a school for young\nchildren and a high school for youths were connected with it. In the\ndark night of the ghetto the flame of knowledge was never quenched.\nWhile the nations of Europe were still sunk in barbarism the Jews\nzealously devoted themselves to the pursuit of medicine, mathematics,\nand dialectics, and the love of learning became an hereditary quality\nin their midst. The efforts of many generations have contributed to keep\ntheir intellectual faculties bright; and, unlike most oppressed races,\nthey have emerged from a long epoch of systematic persecution well\nfitted to attack the problems of the present with fresh interest and\nundiminished capacity.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEMOCRATIC ORGANIZATION OF THE SYNAGOGUE.\n\nThe spirit of monotheism is essentially democratic both in politics\nand religion. There is to be but one king, and he the spiritual Lord\nin heaven. All the people are equal before him. When the Hebrews\nclamorously demanded a king the prophet charged them with treason\nagainst their proper ruler. The prophet and priest were hostile powers;\nand their antagonism was clearly felt, and sometimes energetically\nexpressed. The Lord takes no delight in the slaughter of animals. The\nbloody sacrifices are an offence to Him. What He requires is purity of\nheart, righteous judgment, and care for the widow and the fatherless.\nThe idea of priestly mediation--of mediation in any shape--was repugnant\nto the Jews. \"The whole people are priests,\" it was said. When the\nsanctuary at Jerusalem had been laid in ashes, anything resembling a\nhierarchical caste was no longer tolerated among them. The Law and\nthe Science of the Law were open to all; and each one was expected,\naccording to the measure of his capacity, to draw directly from the\nfountain-head of faith. The autonomy of the congregations was strictly\nguarded. Entire uniformity in the ritual was never achieved.* The public\nlector of prayers was called \"the delegate of the congregation.\" The\nRabbies (the word means Masters, in the sense of teachers) were men\ndistinguished for superior erudition and the blamelessness of their\nlives, and these qualities formed their only title to distinction.**\nTheir duties differed radically from those of the Catholic priest or the\nProtestant clergyman. They never took upon themselves the care of souls.\nTheir office was to instruct the young, and in general to regulate the\npractice of religion according to the principles and precedents laid\ndown in the sacred traditions of their people. The several congregations\nwere independent of each other. There were no general synods or\ncouncils, no graded hierarchy culminating in a spiritual head, no\noligarchy of ministers and elders; but rather a federation of small\ncommunities, each being a sovereign unit, and connected with the others\nsolely by the ties of a common faith, common sympathies, and common\nsufferings. Any ten men were competent to form themselves into a\ncongregation, and to discharge all the duties of religion. The fact that\nthis was so proved of the utmost consequence in preserving the integrity\nof Judaism. The Jews were parcelled out over the whole earth. The body\nof the people was again and again divided. But in every case the\nbarest handful that remained sufficed to become the nucleus of new\norganizations. Had the system of Judaism required any one central organ,\na blow aimed against this would doubtless have proved fatal to the\nwhole. But by the wise provisions of the federative system the vital\npower seems to have been equally disseminated over the entire community.\nLike the worm that is trodden under foot, to which Israel so often\nlikens itself in the Hebrew prayers, the divided members lived a new\nlife of their own, and though apparently crushed beneath the heel of\ntheir oppressors, they ever rose again in indestructible vitality.\n\n * Vide Zunz Die Ritus.\n\n ** Many of them supported themselves by following some\n humble calling, refusing to receive remuneration for their\n teachings, on the principle that the Law \"should not be made\n a spade to dig with.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE INFLUENCE OF PERSECUTION.\n\nIn surveying the history of the Jewish people we find a strange blending\nof nationalism and cosmopolitism illustrated in their actions and\nbeliefs. They proudly styled themselves the elect people of God, they\nlooked down with a certain contempt upon the Gentile nations, yet they\nconceived themselves chosen, not on their own account, but for the\nworld's sake, in order to spread the knowledge of the true God among\nmen. They repudiated heathenism, and regarded Trinitarianism as an\naberration. In contradistinction to these their mission was to protect\nthe purity of the monotheistic religion until in the millennial age all\nnations would gather about their \"holy Mount.\" They considered their\nown continued existence as a people foreordained in the Divine scheme,*\nbecause they believed themselves divinely commissioned to bring about\nthe eternal happiness of the human race. The centripetal and centrifugal\nforces of character were thus evenly balanced, and this circumstance\ncontributed not a little to enliven their courage in the face of\nlong-continued adversity. When the independence of Greece was lost, the\nGreeks ceased to exist as a nation. But the loss of the Temple and\nthe fatherland gave barely more than a passing shock to the national\nconsciousness of the Jews. Easily they acclimatized themselves in\nevery quarter of the globe. The fact of their dispersion was cited\nby Christianity as a sign of their rejection by God. They themselves\nregarded it as a part of their mission to be scattered as seed over\nthe whole earth. That they should suffer was necessary, they being the\nMessianic people! Their prayers were filled with lamentations and the\nrecital of their cruel woes. But they invariably ended with words of\npromise and confidence in the ultimate fulfillment of Israel's hope.\nThus in the very depths of their degradation they were supported by a\nsense of the grandeur of their destinies, and by the proud consciousness\nthat their sufferings were the price paid for the world's spiritual\nredemption.\n\n * \"Let it not seem strange to you that we should regain our\n former condition, even though only a single one of us were\n left, as it is written, 'Fear not, thou worm, Jacob!'\"--Juda\n HA-Levi, in the book Cusari (twelfth century), iii. ii.\n\nIn the earlier half of the Middle Ages the Jews were still permitted to\nenjoy a certain measure of liberty. In Spain, France and Germany they\nlived on amicable terms with their neighbors, they engaged in trade and\nmanufacture, and were allowed to possess landed property. In the tenth\nand eleventh centuries a great part of the city of Paris was owned by\nJews. But at the time of the Crusades a terrible change in the aspect of\ntheir affairs took place. The principles embodied in the canonical law\nhad by this time entered into the practice of the European nations.\nFanaticism was rampant. The banks of the Rhine and the Moselle became\nthe theatre of the most pitiless persecution. Among the Crusaders the\ncry was raised, \"We go to Palestine to slay the unbelievers; why not\nbegin with the infidel Jews in our own midst?\" Worms, Spires, Mayence,\nStrassburg, Basle, Regens-burg, Breslau, witnessed the slaughter of\ntheir Jewish inhabitants. Toward the close of the thirteenth century\none hundred thousand Jews perished at the hands of Rindfleisch, and the\nmurderous hordes of whom he was the leader. To add fuel to the passions\nof the populace the most absurd accusations were brought forward against\nthem, and their religion was made odious by connecting it with charges\nof grave moral obliquity. Jewish physicians being in great request,\nespecially at the court of kings, it was given out that with fiendish\nmalice they were wont to procure the death of their Christian patients.*\nThey were accused of killing Christian children, and using the blood\nof Christians in celebrating the Passover festival, and this monstrous\nfalsehood was repeated until no one doubted its substantial truth.\nLet it be remembered that this charge was originally preferred, in a\nsomewhat different shape, against the Christians themselves. It floated\ndown, as such rumors will, from age to age, until, its authorship being\nforgotten, it was finally used as a convenient handle against the hated\nJews. In this manner the Easter-tide which was to announce the triumph\nof a religion of love became to the Jews a season of terror and mortal\nagony, and the Easter dawn was often reddened with the flames that rose\nfrom Jewish homes.\n\n * Thus in the case of Charles the Bald, and others.\n\nIt is impossible to calculate the number of lives that have been lost\nin consequence of this single accusation. It has lived on even into the\npresent century.* In the fourteenth century the Black Death devastated\nthe Continent of Europe. Soon the opinion gained ground that the Jews\nwere responsible for the ravages of the plague. It was claimed that the\nRabbi of Toledo had sent out a venomous mixture concocted of consecrated\nwafers and the blood of Christian hearts to the various congregations,\nwith orders to poison the wells. The Pope himself undertook to plead for\ntheir innocency, but even papal bulls were powerless to stay the popular\nmadness. In Dekkendorf a church was built in honor of the massacre of\nthe Jews of that town, and the spot thus consecrated has remained a\nfavorite resort of pilgrims down to modern times. The preaching friars\nof the Franciscan and Dominican orders were particularly active in\nfanning the embers of bigotry whenever they threatened to die down. In\nEngland, France and Spain the horrors enacted in Germany were repeated\non a scale of similar magnitude. The tragic fate of the Jews of York,\nthe fury of the Pastoureaux, the miserable scenes that accompanied the\nexodus of the Jews from Spain are familiar facts of history. In Poland,\nin the seventeenth century, the uprising of the Cossacks under the\nchieftainship of Chmielnicki became once more the signal of destruction.\nIt is estimated that in ten years (1648-1658) upwards of two hundred\nand fifty thousand Jews perished.** Even when the lives of the Jews were\nspared, their condition was so extremely wretched that death might often\nhave seemed the preferable alternative.\n\n * In the year 1840 it was simultaneously renewed in Rhenish\n Prussia, on the Isle of Rhodos, and in the city of Damascus.\n In that city the most respected members of the Jewish\n community were arrested, with the assistance of the French\n Consul, Ratti Menton, and underwent cruel torture. The\n intense excitement caused throughout Europe at the time is,\n doubtless, still fresh in the memory of many who will read\n these pages. The utter falsity of the charge was at last\n exposed, thanks to the efforts of the Austrian Consul\n Merlato and the energetic action of Lord Palmerston.\n\n ** Graetz, Gesch. der Juden, X. p. 78.\n\nThe theory propounded by the Church and acted out by the temporal rulers\nof the Middle Ages is expressed in the words of Innocent III.,\n\"Quos propria culpa submisit perpetuae servituti, quum Dominum\ncrucifixerint--pietas Christiana receptet et sus-tineat cohabitationem\nillorum.\"*\n\nBy the crucifixion of Jesus the Jews had forfeited for themselves and\ntheir posterity the right to exist in Christian states. They lived on\nsufferance merely. In the feudal system there was no room for them. They\nwere aliens, were regarded as the property of the Emperor, and he was\nfree to deal with them as suited his convenience. Hence the name _servi\ncamera_--servants of the imperial chamber--was applied to them. They\ncould be sold, purchased, given away at pleasure. Charles IV. presented\n\"the persons and property of his Jews\" to the city of Worms. In a\nschedule of toll-dues dating from the year 1398 we read: \"a horse pays\ntwo shillings, a Jew six shillings, an ox two heller.\"** They were\ncompelled to wear a badge of shame upon their garments;*** were confined\nto narrow and filthy quarters,---_ghetto, juderia_,--debarred from all\nhonorable employments. The schools and universities were closed against\nthem. The guilds shut them out from the various trades. To gain the\nmeans of subsistence nothing remained for them but to engage in the\npetty traffic of the peddler or the disreputable business of the\nmoney-lender. They had absolutely no choice in the matter. The laws of\nMoses certainly discountenance the lending of money at interest. The\nauthorities of the Talmud severely condemn the practice of usury, and\nrefuse to admit the testimony of usurers in courts of law.****\n\n * Cassel, art. Juden, p. 83, in Ersch und Gruber; vide also\n p. 85, \"ad perpetuam Judaici sceleris ultionem eisdem\n Judaeis induxerit perpetuam servitutem.\"\n\n ** Ibid, p. 91\n\n *** The _signum circulate_ was borrowed from Islam. It has\n been ingeniously conjectured that the circular form was\n selected in contradistinction to the sign of the crescent.\n Ibid, p. 75.\n\n **** Mishna Sanhedrin, III. 3.\n\nBut all scruples on the part of the Jews had now to be set aside. Gold\nthey must have, and in abundance. It was the only means of buying their\npeace. The taxes levied by the imperial chamber were enormous.* The\ncities, the baronial lords, in whose territory they took refuge,\nconstantly imposed new burdens as the price of toleration. The Jews\nhave often been held up to contempt for their avarice and rapacity.\nThe reproach is unjust. It reminds one of the ancient Philistines, who,\nhaving shorn the Hebrew of his strength and blinded him, called him with\njeers from his prison-house to exhibit him to the popular gaze and to\nmake sport of his infirmity.\n\nUnder these circumstances the conservatism of the Jews in matters of\nreligion can no longer astonish us. Rejected by the world, they lived\nin a world of their own. They had inherited from their ancestors an\nextended code of ceremonial observances, dietary laws, and minute and\nmanifold directions for the conduct of life. In these they beheld the\nbulwark of their religion, the common bond that united the scattered\nmembers of their race. The Jew of Persia or Palestine could come among\nhis German brethren, and hear the same prayers expressed in the same\nlanguage, and recognize the same customs as were current among his\nco-religionists in the East. The passwords of the faith were everywhere\nunderstood. To preserve complete unanimity with respect to\nreligious usage was a measure dictated by the commanding instinct of\nself-preservation. The Jews of all countries were furthermore united by\nthe common yearnings with which they looked back to the past, and their\ncommon hope of ultimate restoration to the heritage of the promised\nland.**\n\n * A general tax paid in recognition of the Emperor's\n protection; the Temple tax claimed by the Holy Roman\n Emperor in his capacity as the successor of Vespasian; the\n so-called _aurum coronarium_, or coronation tax, by virtue\n of which every new emperor, upon his accession to the\n throne, could confiscate the third part of the property of\n the Jews. Besides these, extraordinary levies were\n frequent.\n\n ** On the eve of the 9th of the fifth month it was customary\n at Jerusalem to announce the number of years that had\n elapsed since the fall of the Temple. Zunz, Die Ritus, p.\n 84.\n\nHowever prolonged their abode in the land of the stranger might be, they\nnever regarded it otherwise than in the light of a temporary sojourn,\nand Palestine remained their true fatherland, \"If I forget thee,\nJerusalem, wither my right hand,\" was sung as plaintively on the banks\nof the Danube and the Rhine as it had resounded of old by Babel's\nstreams. The Jewish people walked through history as in a dream, their\neyes fixed on Zion's vanished glories. Empires fell; wars devastated the\nearth; new manners, new modes of life, arose around them. What was all\nthis toil and turmoil of the nations to them! They were not admitted\nto the fellowship of mankind, they preserved their iron stability, they\nalone remained changeless. So long as the world maintained its hostile\nattitude toward them, there was little likelihood that they would\nabandon their time-honored traditions. But toward the close of the\nlast century the first tokens of political, social, and spiritual\nregeneration began to appear among the despondent people of the Hebrews.\nThe spirit of the Reformation, which had slumbered so long, awoke to\nnew vitality. The voice of love rebuked the selfishness of creeds;\nPhilosophy in the person of Kant emphasized the duties of man to man;\nPoetry sent its warm breath through the German land, and with its sweet\nstrains instilled broad, humanitarian doctrine into the hearts of men.\nLessing celebrated the virtues of his friend, Moses Mendelssohn, in\n\"Nathan the Wise,\" and in the parable of the rings showed how the\ntrue religion is to be sought and found. The Royal Academy at Berlin\nnominated the same Mendelssohn for membership in its body. Jewish\nscholars were received with distinction in the Austrian and Prussian\ncapitals. Eminent statesmen and writers began to exert themselves\nto remove the foul blot that had so long stained the conduct of the\nChristian states in their dealings with the Jews. In France the\ngreat Revolution was rapidly sweeping away the accumulated wrongs of\ncenturies. When the emancipation of the Jews came up for discussion\nin the Convention, the ablest speakers rose in their behalf. The Abbe\nGregoire exclaimed: \"A new century is about to open. May its portals be\nwreathed with the palm of humanity!\" Mirabeau lent his mighty eloquence\nto their cause. \"I will not speak of tolerance,\" he said; \"the freedom\nof conscience is a right so sacred that even the name of tolerance\ninvolves a species of tyranny.\"*\n\n *Vide the account of the debates in the official Moniteur.\n\nOn the 28th September, 1791, the National Convention decreed\nthe equality of the Israelites of France with their Christian\nfellow-citizens. The waves of the Revolution, however, overflowed\nthe borders of France, and the agitation they caused was quickly\ncommunicated to all Germany. Wherever the armies of the Republic\npenetrated, the gates of the ghettos were thrown open, and in the name\nof Fraternity, Liberty and Equality were announced to their inhabitants.\nWhen Napoleonic misrule at last exasperated Germany into resistance, the\nseeds which French influence had sown had already taken firm root in the\nGerman soil. On the 11th March, 1812, Frederick William III. issued his\nfamous edict, removing the main disabilities from which the Jews of his\ndominions had suffered, granting them the rights and imposing upon them\nthe honorable duties of citizenship. They were no longer to be classed\nas foreigners. The state claimed them as its children, and exacted of\nthem the same sacrifices as all its sons were called upon to bring in\nthe troublous times that soon followed. With what eager alacrity the\nJews responded to the king's call the records of the German wars for\nindependence amply testify. On the battlefields of Leipzig and Waterloo\nthey stood side by side with their Christian brethren. Many sons and\nfathers of Jewish households yielded their lives in the country's\ndefence. In the blood of the fallen the new covenant of equal justice\nwas sealed for all time to come. However prejudice might still dog their\nfootsteps, however shamefully the government might violate its solemn\npledges to the Jewish soldiers on their return from the wars, the Jews\nof Germany had now gained what they could no more lose. They felt that\nthe land for which they had adventured their all, in whose behalf they\nhad lost so much, was indeed their fatherland. For the first time, after\nmany, many centuries, the fugitives had gained a home, a country. They\nawoke as from a long sleep. They found the world greatly changed around\nthem; vast problems engaging the attention of thinkers, science and\nphilosophy everywhere shedding new light upon the path of mankind. They\nwere eager to approve themselves worthy and loyal citizens, eager to\njoin in the general work of progress. They dwelt no more with anxious\npreference on the past. The present and the future demanded their\nexertions, and the motives that had so long compelled their exclusion\nfrom the fellowship of the Gentiles were gradually disappearing. As\ntheir religion was mainly retrospective in character and exclusive in\ntendency, great changes were needed to bring it into harmony with the\naltered condition of affairs. These changes were accordingly attempted,\nand their history is the history of Jewish Reform.\n\n\n\n\nIII. REFORMED JUDAISM.\n\nReformed Judaism originated in Germany; its leading representatives\nhave invariably been Germans. The history of Germany during the past one\nhundred years is the background upon which our account of the movement\nmust be projected.\n\nThe Jews of Germany had waited long and patiently for deliverance. At\nlast, toward the close of the eighteenth century it came, and one whom\nthey delight to call their \"Second Moses\" arose to lead them into the\npromised land of freedom. This was Moses Mendelssohn. His distinguished\nmerits as a writer on philosophy and aesthetics we need not here\npause to dilate upon, but shall proceed at once to consider him in his\nrelations to the political, social, and religious emancipation of his\npeople. In each of these different directions his example and influence\nupon others served to initiate a series of salutary changes, and he may\nthus appropriately be termed the father of the Reform movement in its\nwidest acceptation. It was Mendelssohn who, in 1781, inspired Christian\nWilhelm Dohm to publish his book \"On the Civil Amelioration of the\nJews,\" a work in which an earnest plea for their enfranchisement was for\nthe first time put forth. The author points to the thrift and frugality\nthat mark the Jewish race, their temperate habits and love of peace,\nand exposes the folly of debarring so valuable a class of the population\nfrom the rights of the citizen. He appeals to the wisdom of the\ngovernment to redeem the errors and injustice of the past; he defends\nthe Jews against the absurd charges which were still repeated to their\ndiscredit, and strenuously insists that liberty and humane treatment\nwould not only accrue to their own advantage, but would ultimately\nredound to the honor and lasting welfare of the state. Dohm's book\ncreated a profound impression, and though it failed to produce immediate\nresults, materially aided the cause of emancipation at a later period.\n\nAgain Mendelssohn was the first to break through the social restraints\nthat obstructed the intercourse of Jews and Christians, and thus\ntriumphed over a form of prejudice which is commonly the last to yield.\nHis fame as a writer greatly assisted him in this respect. The grace\nand freshness of his style, the apparent ease with which he divested the\nstern problems of philosophy of their harsher aspects, had won him many\nand sincere admirers. His \"Phaedon\" was eagerly read by thousands, whom\nthe writings of Leibnitz and Kant had repelled. On the afternoon of the\nJewish Sabbath he was accustomed to assemble many of the choice spirits\nof the Prussian capital, among whom we may mention Lessing, Nikolai,\nand Gleim, in his home. The conversation turned upon the gravest\nand loftiest topics that can occupy the human soul. The host himself\nskilfully guided the stream of discussion, and the waves of thought\nflowed easily along in that placid, restful motion which is adapted to\nspeculative themes. The spirit that of old had hallowed the shades of\nAcademe presided over these gatherings. Mendelssohn emulated the plastic\nidealism of Plato and the divine hilarity of Socrates. The singular\nmodesty, the truthfulness and quiet dignity that adorned his character\nwere reflected upon the people from whom he had sprung, and produced a\nsalutary change in their favor in the sentiments of the better classes.\n\nBut it is as the author of a profound revolution in the Jewish religion,\nthat Mendelssohn attracts our especial interest. Not, indeed, that he\nhimself ever assumed the character of a religious reformer. He was, on\nthe contrary, sincerely devoted to the orthodox form of Judaism, and\neven had a change appeared to him feasible or desirable, he would in all\nprobability have declined the responsibility of publicly advocating it.\nHis was the contemplative spirit which instinctively shrinks from the\nrude contact of reality. He had neither the aggressive temper nor the\nbold self-confidence that stamp the leader of parties. And yet,\nwithout intending it, he gave the first impulse to Jewish Reform, whose\nsubsequent progress, could he have foreseen it, he would assuredly have\nbeen the first to deprecate.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIBLE.\n\nThe condition of the Jews at the close of the last century was in many\nrespects unlike that of any other race that has ever been led from a\nstate of subjection to one of acknowledged equality. Long oppression\nhad not, on the whole, either blunted their intellects or debased their\nmorals. If they were ignorant in modern science and literature, they\nwere deeply versed in their own ancient literature, and this species\nof learning was not the privilege of a single class, but the common\nproperty of the whole people. What they lacked was system. In the\nrambling debates of the Talmud the true principles of logical sequence\nare but too often slighted, and the student is encouraged to value the\nsubtle play of dialectics on its own account, without regard to any\nultimate gain in positive and useful knowledge. Impatience of orderly\narrangement being allowed to develop into a habit, became contagious. It\nimpressed itself equally on the thought, the manners, the language*\nof the Jews, and contributed not a little to alienate from them the\nsympathies of the refined. Such, however, was the preponderating\ninfluence of the Talmud that it not only engrossed the attention of the\nJewish youth to the exclusion of secular knowledge, but even perverted\nthe exegesis of the Bible and caused the study of Scripture to be\ncomparatively neglected.\n\n * The German Jews spoke a mixed dialect of German and\n Hebrew, which has been likened to the so-called Pennsylvania\n Dutch.\n\nTo weaken the controlling influence of the Talmud became the first\nneedful measure of Reform, and to accomplish this it was necessary to\ngive back to the Bible its proper place in the education of the young.\nIt was an event, therefore, of no mean significance when Mendelssohn,\nin conjunction with a few friends, determined to prepare a German\ntranslation of the Pentateuch, and thus, by presenting the teachings of\nScripture in the garb of a modern tongue, to render their true meaning\napparent to every reflecting mind. The work was finished in 1783.\nIt holds a like relation to the Jewish Reform movement that Luther's\ntranslation held to the great Protestant movement of the sixteenth\ncentury. It was greeted with a storm of abuse upon its appearance, and\nwas loudly execrated by the orthodox as the beginning of larger and\nfar-reaching innovations. Its author might sincerely protest his entire\ninnocency of the radical designs imputed to him, but subsequent events\nhave proved the keener insight of his opponents. The influence of the\nnew translation was twofold. In the first place it facilitated a more\ncorrect understanding of the doctrine, the literature and language of\nScripture; secondly,--and this is worthy of special remark,--it served\nthe purpose of a text-book of the German for the great mass of the Jews,\nwho were at that time unable to read a book written in the vernacular,\nand thus became the means of opening to them the treasure-house of\nmodern thought.*\n\n * The German of Mendelssohn's translation was written\n in Hebrew letters.\n\nIn the very year in which Mendelssohn's work appeared we notice among\nthe younger generation a general revival of interest in the Hebrew,\nthe mother-tongue of their race. Two students of the University of\nKonigsberg began the issue of a periodical devoted to the culture of\nthe Hebrew, which was widely read and attracted great attention. Poems,\noriginal essays, Hebrew versions of modern writings, appeared in its\ncolumns; the style of the Prophets and of the Psalmists was emulated,\nthe works of the ancient masters of the language served as models, and\nin the aspect of the noble forms employed in the diction of the biblical\nauthors the aesthetic sense of the modern Jews revived. We are inclined\nto doubt whether the Hebrew Bible, considered merely with a view to\nits aesthetic value, is even yet fully appreciated. The extravagance\nof religious credulity and the violent extreme of scepticism have alike\ntended to obscure its proper merits. The one accustomed to behold in the\n\"holy book\" a message from the Creator to his creatures shrinks, as a\nrule, from applying to the work of a Divine author the critical standard\nof human composition. The sceptics on the other hand, impatient of the\nexorbitant claims which are urged for the sacred writings of the Jews,\nand resenting the sway which they still exercise over the human reason,\nare hardly in a proper frame of mind to estimate justly its intrinsic\nand imperishable excellences. And yet, setting aside all questions of\nthe supernatural origin of the Bible, and regarding only the style in\nwhich its thoughts are conveyed, how incomparably valuable does it still\nremain! It would be difficult to calculate the extent to which many of\nour standard authors are indebted for the grandest passages of their\nworks to their early familiarity with the biblical style. Those who\nare able to read the text in the original become aware of even subtler\nbeauties that escape in the process of translation. Purity of diction,\npower of striking antithesis, simple and yet sublime imagery, a\nmarvellous facility in the expression of complex states of feeling, and\nthose the deepest of which the human soul is capable, are but a few\nof the obvious features that distinguish the golden age of Hebrew\nliterature. Never perhaps has the symbolism of nature been used with\nsuch supreme effect to express the unspeakable emotions that are deep\ndown in the heart of man. Such music as that which swells through the\npages of Isaiah's prophecies cannot be forgotten; such ringing, rhythmic\nperiods, in which the eloquence of conviction bursts forth into the\nrounded fulness of perfect oratory, can never fail to touch and to\ninspire. We know of no nobler pattern on which the modern orator could\nmould his style. And thus, too, the exquisite poetry of the Song of\nSongs, the idyl of the Book of Ruth, the weird pathos of Jeremiah's\nlament, the grand descriptions of Job, will ever be counted among the\nmasterpieces of human genius. Whatever we may think of the doctrines of\nthe Bible, it is safe to predict that the book will live long after the\nmyths that surround its origin shall have been dispelled; nay, all\nthe more, when it shall cease to be worshipped as a fetish will men\nappreciate its abiding claims to their reverence, and it will continue\nto hold its honored place in the libraries of the nations. The refining\ninfluence of the study of the Bible soon became evident among the\ncontemporaries of Mendelssohn. But in another way also his translation\ntended to their improvement. We have said that it became the means\nof acquainting them with the language of the land. A wide field of\nknowledge, embracing the rich results of modern science, philosophy,\nand art, was thus laid open to their industry. Eagerly they availed\nthemselves of the proffered opportunity; schools were erected, in which\nthe elements of liberal culture were imparted to the young, and ere long\nwe find a new generation of the Jews engaging in honorable competition\nwith their Christian brethren for the prize of learning and the rewards\nof literary distinction. It was at this time that Kant's \"Critique of\nPure Reason\" appeared, a work which marks a new epoch in the world's\nthought. Its profound reasoning and technical style made it difficult of\ncomprehension to all but the initiated. Three Jewish scholars--Dr. Herz,\nSalomon Maimon, and Ben-David--undertook the task of popularizing\nits main results, and were among the first to call attention to the\ntranscendent importance of the new system. Plainly new vital energy was\ncoursing through the veins of the Jewish people.\n\n\n\n\nSOCIAL STANDING.\n\nBut at this very time, while they were rapidly assimilating the best\nresults of modern culture and winning the respect and confidence of the\nlearned, the Jews of Germany were still laboring under an odious system\nof special laws, and beheld themselves excluded from the common rights\nof citizenship. The manly effort of Dohm in their behalf had as yet\navailed nothing; the voice of bigotry was still supreme in the councils\nof the sovereign. And yet they felt themselves to be the equals of those\nwhom the law unjustly ranked their superiors, and longed to see the\nbarriers done away that still divided them from their fellow-men. Many\nof their number had amassed fortunes, and expended their wealth with\ncommendable prudence and generosity. They supported needy students,\nfounded libraries, extended their knowledge, and refined their tastes.\nEven the Jewish maidens followed the general impulse toward self-culture\nthat was setting with such force in the Jewish community. In particular\nthe works of Schiller and Goethe, as they successively appeared at this\nperiod, inflamed their enthusiasm, and none were more zealous than\nthey in spreading the fame and influence of the new school of German\nliterature. Still they were taught to consider themselves an inferior\nclass, and were despised as such. The position of equality which the\nnarrowness of the laws denied them they were resolved to achieve by the\nweight ol character and the force of spiritual attractions. Henrietta de\nLemos, a young girl of singular beauty and attainments, had at this time\nbecome the wife of Dr. Herz, of whom we have casually spoken above in\nhis connection with Kant. She is described as tall, graceful, possessing\na face in which the features of Hellenic and Oriental beauty were\nblended in exquisite harmony; while the sobriquet of the \"Tragic\nMuse,\" by which she became known, denoted the majestic nobleness of\nher presence. Under the guidance of competent masters she had acquired\nconsiderable proficiency in many of the modern and ancient languages,\nand to a mind stored with various knowledge was added the mellow charm\nof a most sweet and loving disposition. Attracted by her fame and\ncaptivated by her genius, the most eminent men of the day sought the\nprivilege of her society. The art of conversation, which had till then\nreceived but little attention in the Prussian capital, was for the first\ntime cultivated in the _salon_ of Henrietta Herz. Sparkling wit and\nprofound philosophy were alike encouraged. Statesmen high in the service\nof their country sought the amenities of these delightful gatherings.\nAlexander and Wilhelm von Humboldt, Gentz, Schleier-macher, Friedrich\nvon Schlegel, Mirabeau, Dorothea, the daughter of Mendelssohn, Rahel,\nafterwards wife of Varnhagen von Ense, were among the intimates of her\ncircle. Christians and Jews met here on terms of mutual deference, and\nforgot for a while the paltry distinctions which still kept them\nasunder in the world without. And yet these distinctions, senseless in\nthemselves, were full of ominous meaning to those who felt their\nburden. Young men eager for advancement in life found their religion\nan insuperable obstacle in their way. The professions, the army, the\noffices of the government, were closed against them. On the threshold of\nevery higher career they were rudely repulsed, unless they embraced\nthe base alternative of changing their creed to satisfy their ambition.\nUnder these circumstances that fidelity to the faith of the fathers\nwhich had so long marked the conduct of the Jews began seriously\nto waver, and in many instances gave way. Not, indeed, that the new\nconverts became true and loyal Christians. On the contrary, they\nconsidered the rite of baptism a mere hollow form, and left it to the\nstate, which had insisted upon their conformance, to justify the deep\ndisgrace that was thus brought upon the Christian sacraments. Moreover,\na certain laxity in the interpretation of dogma had at this time\nbecome widely prevalent, which greatly assisted them in setting their\nconscience at ease. Rationalism had stripped the positive religions\nof much of their substance and individuality. To none of them was an\nabsolute value allowed. They were regarded as forms in which a principle\nhigher than all forms had found an imperfect and temporary expression.\nEven the influence of Schleiermacher tended rather to obliterate than to\ndefine the outlines of the contending creeds. Schleiermacher, the author\nof a Protestant revival in Germany, spoke the language of Pantheism,\nand his opinions are deeply suffused with the spirit of Pantheistic\nteachings. He defines religion to be the sense of dependence on the\nInfinite, the Universal. To the fact that different men in different\nages have been variously affected by the conception of the Infinite\nhe ascribes the origin of the different creeds. Theological dogmas,\naccording to him, cannot claim to be true in the sense of scientific or\nphilosophical propositions. They approach the truth only in so far as\nthey typically express certain emotional processes of our soul, and\nthose dogmas are nearest the truth which typify emotions of the most\nnoble and exalted character. Allowing Christianity to be what its\nlearned expounders had defined it, intelligent Jews could hardly find\nit difficult to assume the Christian name. It is estimated that in the\ncourse of three decades full one half of the Jewish community of Berlin\nwere nominally Christianized.\n\nHow thoroughly conventional, at the same time, the use of the term\nChristian had become may be judged from a letter addressed by David\nFriedlander, a friend of Mendelssohn's, to Councillor Teller of\nthe Consistory, in which he offered, on behalf of himself and some\nco-religionists, to accept Christianity in case they might be permitted\nto omit the observance of the Christian festivals, to reject the\ndoctrine of the Trinity, of the divinity of Jesus, and, in fact,\nwhatever is commonly regarded as essentially and specifically Christian.\nIt is true the reply of the Councillor was not encouraging.\n\n\n\n\nPARIS, THE NEW JERUSALEM.\n\nWhile the very existence of Judaism was thus threatened in Germany, it\nseemed about to regain its pristine vigor in France. More than seventeen\ncenturies had elapsed since the Sanhedrin, the High Court of Jerusalem,\nhad passed out of existence. Quite unexpectedly it was recalled to\nmomentary life by the caprice of the great Corsican, who then ruled the\ndestinies of the world. In the year 1806 Napoleon convened a parliament\nof Jewish Notables at Paris in order to definitely settle the relations\nof French Israelites to the state. Soon after an imperial decree\nconvoked the grand Sanhedrin for the purpose of ratifying the decisions\nof the Notables. The glories of Jerusalem were to be renewed in \"modern\nBabylon\" on the Seine. On February 9, 1807, the Sanhedrin met in\nthe Hotel de Ville. Care was taken to invest its sittings with due\nsolemnity; the seats of the members were arranged in crescent shape\nabout the platform of the presiding officers, as had been customary at\nJerusalem; the president was saluted with the title of Nassi (Prince),\nas in the olden time; the ancient titles and forms were copied with\nscrupulous exactness. Two-thirds of the members were Rabbis, the\nremainder laymen. The opening of the Sanhedrin attracted universal\nattention, but its proceedings were void of interest. In fact, its sole\ntask was to lend the authority of an ancient tribunal to the action of\nthe Notables, and this having been accomplished it was adjourned after\na brief session. In connection with these conventions of the years 1806\nand 1807 it behooves us to mention the creation of a new constitution\nfor the French synagogue elaborated by the joint efforts of the imperial\nCommissioners and the Notables. The form of government adopted was\nmoulded on the pattern of the secular power. A system of consistories\nwas organized throughout France, culminating in a central consistory at\nParis with a Grand-Rabbin at its head. The officers of the consistories\nwere treated as officers of the state, the charge of their maintenance\nwas in part defrayed at the public expense, and, in the course of time,\nthey were placed on a footing of almost complete equality with the\ndignitaries of the Christian churches. The union of the teachers of\nJudaism in a species of graded hierarchy, dependent upon temporal rulers\nfor their support, was as have have been expected, fruitful of evil\nresults. If it is true that the supremacy of the church over the state\ndisturbs the peace of nations and endangers the very existence of\ngovernments, it is equally certain that no religion can long continue\nto maintain its purity when the church becomes the subservient vassal\nof the state. Whatever the apparent gain in stability may be, it is more\nthan counterbalanced by the loss of spontaneity and sincerity. Hypocrisy\nflourishes, the liberty of conscience is abridged, and a spirit of base\ntime-serving eventually prepares the downfall of institutions whose\nperfect safety is consistent only with perfect freedom.\n\nThe French Synagogue, as we have indicated, presents a case in point.\nDuring the past seventy years it has stagnated. No single luminous\nthought lights up its dreary record, no single whole-souled effort to\nappropriate the larger truths of our time dignifies its annals. In the\nhistory of the Reform movement it merits no further mention.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITURGY.\n\nReturning to Germany we behold the leading Jews at last awakened to the\nnecessity of energetic measures to check the wide-spread disaffection\nthat was thinning out their ranks. Hitherto the liturgy of the synagogue\nhad not been affected by the growing tendency to change. An attempt in\nthis direction was initiated by Israel Jacobsohn, the financial agent\nof the Duke of Brunswick, a man of wealth, culture, and generous\ndisposition. He was shocked by the scenes of disorder, the utter lack of\ndecorum, that disgraced the public worship; he was resolved as far as\nin his power lay to correct the abuses which had been allowed to grow up\nunrestrained in the gloomy period of mediaeval persecution, and to\nwin back to the faith those whose affections had been estranged by\nthe barbarous form in which it appeared to view. He erected at his own\nexpense, and dedicated on July 17, 1810, in the town of Seesen, a new\ntemple,* at the same time introducing certain radical modifications into\nthe service which we shall presently take occasion to consider.\n\n * The term Temple has since been used by the Reformers in\n contradistinction to the orthodox Synagogue.\n\nBeing appointed to the Presidency of the Consistory of Cassel, during\nthe reign of Jerome Bonaparte, he took advantage of his official\nposition to urge his innovations upon the congregations under his\ncharge. In 1815 he transplanted the \"new fashion in religion\" to Berlin,\nand in 1818 assisted in founding the temple at Hamburg, which soon\nbecame one of the leading strongholds of Reform. A provisional service\non the same plan was likewise instituted at Leipsic,* during the\nperiod of the annual fair, and tidings of the reform were thus rapidly\ntransmitted to distant parts of Germany. The main changes introduced by\nJacobsohn, and copied by others, may be briefly summed up as follows:\nThe introduction of regular weekly sermons, which had not previously\nbeen customary; of prayers in the vernacular by the side of the Hebrew;\nof choir singing with organ accompaniment, and the confirmation of young\nchildren. These innovations implied a revolution in the character of the\npublic worship.\n\n * Dr. Zunz was appointed preacher, and the composer\n Meyerbeer directed the musical services.\n\nThe Jewish people had been wont to regard themselves individually and\ncollectively, as soldiers in the army of their God, commissioned to wage\nwarfare against every species of false religion. A spirit of martial\ndiscipline, as it were, pervaded their ranks. The repetition of prayers\nand benedictions by day and night in the privacy of domestic life, on\nthe public square and by the roadside, was a species of drill intended\nto keep alive in them the consciousness of their mission, and to prepare\nthem for the emergencies of actual conflict. Thrice a day they mustered\nin their synagogues, and renewed their oath of allegiance in the\npresence of their spiritual king. The term Jewish Church, though in\nfrequent use, is a misnomer based upon false analogy. The difference\nbetween the synagogue and the church is as clearly marked as that\nbetween Judaism and Christianity themselves. The sentimental element,\nusing the word in its nobler signification, which is distinctive of the\nlatter, is almost entirely lacking in the former. Both make it their\naim to elevate the moral life in man, but while Judaism acts through\nthe will upon the affections, Christianity places the affections in the\nforeground and seeks by their means to persuade and captivate the will.\n\nIt cannot be denied that the Reformers had in some measure modified the\ntraditional character of Jewish worship. The purely emotional element\nacquired a prominence which it had never had before, the very word\nemployed to designate the purpose of the temple service--\"Erbauung,\"\nedification--was foreign to the ancient vocabulary of Judaism. In\nanother direction, too, they transgressed the limits prescribed\nby time-honored usage. We have referred above to the ceremony of\nconfirmation, which has since been generally adopted by congregations\nof the Reform school. On some festival or Sabbath--the Feast of Weeks,\ncelebrated about Whitsuntide, being commonly preferred--boys and girls\nof thirteen or fourteen are assembled in the temple, where, after having\nundergone an examination in the chief tenets of their religion, they\nare required to repeat aloud a confession of faith. The ceremony usually\nattracts a large congregation, and is one of the few institutions\nintroduced by the Reformers that have strongly seized upon the popular\nheart.\n\nThe natural concern of parents for the welfare of their offspring lends\na solemn interest to the occasion. At an age when the child's character\nbegins to assume definite outlines, when the reason unfolds, and the\nperils and temptations that attend every pilgrim on the valley road of\nlife, approach near, an instinctive prompting of the human heart leads\nus to forecast the future of sons and daughters, and to embrace with\njoy whatever means are placed at our disposal to guard them against\naberration and misfortune. To utilize the impressiveness of a great\npublic gathering, the sympathetic presence of parents and friends, the\nearnest monitions of a wise and revered teacher, in order to confirm\nthem in every virtuous endeavor and high resolve, is therefore fit and\nproper.*\n\n * It deserves to be noted that the ceremony of confirmation\n among the Jews took its origin in the schools of Seesen,\n Frankfort-on-the-Main, etc. Indeed, the first Reformed\n congregations were formed by natural accretion about these\n schools. The influence of schools in giving character and\n stability to new religious movements is a subject of\n sufficient importance to deserve separate treatment.\n\nThe propriety of exacting a formal confession of faith, however, has\nbeen hotly disputed both by the orthodox and the more advanced liberals.\nIt is urged that Judaism is a practical, rather than a dogmatical\nreligion. Even the existence of a God is rather presupposed as a fact\nthan asserted as a matter of belief. Apart from this it is claimed that\na child at thirteen can hardly be prepared to comprehend the fundamental\nquestions of religion, much less to express convictions on problems so\ngrave and difficult. The age of reflection and consequently of doubt is\nyet to come, nor can any child on the day of its confirmation answer for\nits convictions ten years thereafter.\n\nThe progress of the Reform movement was thus of a character to awaken\ndistrust and fierce contention at every step. The conservative party\nwere enraged at what they considered unwarrantable encroachments upon\nthe traditions of an immemorial past. The radicals were dissatisfied\nwith the lack of substance and vitality in the teachings of the\nReformers, the shallow moralizing tone of their preachers, the\nsuperficial views of Judaism which they scattered among the multitude.\n\nIt may indeed be asked how could better things have been expected at\nthat time. The great facts of Jewish history were not yet clearly known,\nthe philosophy of Judaism was proportionately vague and uncertain. No\nJewish author had ever undertaken to write out the annals of his people;\nchaotic confusion reigned in their chronicles. To know what Judaism\nmight be it seemed necessary to ascertain in the first instance what it\nhad been; the past would prove the index of the future. Untoward events\nthat happened at this period gave a powerful impulse to historical\nresearch, and led to fruitful investigations in the domain of Judaism.\n\n\n\n\n\"HEP-HEP.\"\n\nThe great battles of 1813 and 1815, in which the German people regained\ntheir independence, effected a marvellous change in the spirits and\nsentiments of the nation.\n\nAccustomed for a long time to endure in silence the insults and\narrogance of a foreign despot, they had learned to despair of\nthemselves; a deadly lethargy held their energies in bondage and in\nthe fairy visions of poetry and the daring dreams of metaphysical\nspeculation they sought consolation for the pains and burdens of\nreality. The victories of Leipsic and Waterloo completely altered the\ntone of their feelings. It is a not uncommon fact that individuals\nusually the reverse of self-asserting exhibit, on occasions, an\noverweening self-consciousness, which is all the more pointed and\naggressive because of their secret and habitual self-distrust. We note\nwith curious interest the recurrence of the same obnoxious trait in the\nlife of a great nation. The novel sense of power intoxicated them, the\nGerman mind for the moment lost its poise; Romanticism flourished, the\nviolence of the Middle Ages was mistaken for manhood, and held up to the\nemulation of the present generation. Whatever was German was therefore\nesteemed good; whatever was foreign was therefore despised, or at best\nignored.\n\nThe Jews were made to feel the sharp sting of this feverish vanity;\ntheir Asiatic origin was cast up against them, though it might have been\nsupposed that a residence of fifteen centuries had given them some claim\nto dwell at peace with the children of the soil. In the year 1819 the\nassassination of Kotzebue added fresh fuel to the fervor of Teutonic\npassion. In August of that year a professor of Wurzburg, who had written\nin defence of the Jews, was publicly insulted by the students. A tumult\nensued, the cry \"Hep-Hep\"* arose on every side, and \"Death to the Jews\"\nwas the watchword. On the next day the magistrate ordered them to leave\nWurzburg, and four hundred in number they were driven beyond the city's\nlimits. Similar excesses occurred in Frankfort-on-the-Main, Meiningen,\nCarlsruhe, and elsewhere. Inflammatory pamphlets contributed to\nincrease the excitement.\n\n * \"Hep-Hep\" has been explained as an abbreviation of the\n words \"Hierosolyma est perdita\" (Jerusalem is perished).\n Probably it is no more than one of those meaningless\n exclamations which are not infrequent in college jargon.\n\nGrattenauer, Runs, Fries, had written to good effect. All the old\nfalsehoods were revived, the fable of the use of Christian blood at\nPassover among the rest. It seemed as though the genius of chivalry\nwhich the Romantic school had invoked had returned with its grim\nattendant train to renew the orgies of mediaeval persecution in the\nfull light of the nineteenth century. In November appeared the\n\"Judenspiegel,\" by Hundt-Radowsky. In this the author argues that\nthe murder of a Jew is neither criminal nor sinful. In order to avoid\nunnecessary bloodshed however, he proposes a more peaceful means of\nridding the German people of \"these vermin.\" His propositions, couched\nin plain language and delivered in sober earnest, are simply these:\nthe men to be castrated, and sold as slaves to the East Indies; the\nwomen--but the pen refuses to record the fiendish suggestion. It\nis mortifying to reflect that this infamous publication was widely\ncirculated and eagerly read.*\n\n\n\n\nTHE SCIENCE OF JUDAISM.\n\nThe sole reply which these occurrences elicited from the intelligent\nmembers of the Jewish community was a more strenuous effort on their\npart to complete the work of inward purification, and renewed zeal\nin the study of their historic past. They trusted that the image of\nJudaism, if presented in its proper light, would remove the odium which\nrested upon their people, and would furthermore become their sure guide\nin the work of reconstructing the religion of their ancestors.\n\nLate in the year 1819 a \"Society for the Culture and Science* of the\nJews\" was founded at Berlin. Its object was twofold: first to promote\na more effective prosecution of the \"Science of Judaism\"; secondly, to\nelevate the moral tone of the people, to counteract their prevailing\nbias toward commerce, and to encourage them in the pursuits of\nagriculture, the trades, and such of the professions as they had access\nto.\n\n * Graetz, Geschichte der Juden, X. p. 361.\n\n ** Throughout this article we use the word \"science\" in the\n sense of the German Wissenschaft.\n\nThe science of Judaism embraces the departments of history, philosophy,\nand philology, the last being of special importance, since it presents\nthe key to the correct understanding of the two former. The means\nadopted to secure these objects were chiefly three,--a scientific\ninstitute, a journal whose columns were enriched by many contributions\nof enduring value, and a school in which instruction was imparted gratis\nto poor students and Partisans. Among the members of the society\nwe mention Edward Gans, the President, afterwards Professor of\nJurisprudence at the University of Berlin; the eminent critic, Dr. Zunz;\nthe poet, Heinrich Heine;* Moser; the noble Wholwill; and others.\n\n * Heine was for some time an instructor in the society's\n school. For an account of the Cultur-Verein, and of the\n poet's cordial interest in its success, vide Strodtmann,\n \"Heine's Leben und Werke,\" p. 237.\n\nUnfortunately, the public mind was not yet prepared to appreciate the\nlabors of these men; the society languished for want of support, and\nafter a few years its formal organization was dissolved. But in the\nbrief term of its existence it had accomplished its main object; the\nscience of Judaism was securely established, and it could safely be left\nto the industry of a few gifted individuals to cultivate and propagate\nit. The ten years following the \"Hep-Hep\" excitement witnessed a series\nof literary achievements whose importance it would be difficult\nto overrate. Zunz and Rappoport, the pioneers of the new science,\ndiscovered the thread by which they were enabled to push their way\nthrough the labyrinth of Jewish literature. Profound erudition,\ncritical acumen, and a subtle insight amounting almost to intuition, are\ndisplayed in their writings. A band of worthy disciples followed their\nlead. The chain of tradition, which had seemed hopelessly tangled, was\nunravelled; many of its missing links were ingeniously supplied, and the\nsequence of events, on the whole, satisfactorily determined. The dimness\nand vagueness that had hung over the history of the Jews was giving way,\nand the leading figures in the procession of past generations assumed\nclear and distinct outlines. At this time Jost was employed in writing\nthe first connected history of his people which had ever emanated from\nJewish sources.\n\n\n\n\nSCIENTIFIC THEOLOGY.\n\nWhile scholars were thus busy preparing the way for a new theory of\nJudaism based on the facts of its history, no efforts were made to press\nthe needful work of practical reform. Indeed, the hostile attitude of\nthe temporal rulers discouraged any such undertaking. The influence\nof Metternich swayed the councils of the German princes. The King of\nPrussia had broken the promise of constitutional government which he\nhad given to his people in the hour of need. The power of the Triple\nAlliance was prepared to crush out the faintest stirrings of political\nor religious liberty wherever they appeared.\n\nIn 1830, however, the revolution in France swept away a second time the\nthrone of the Bourbons, and changed the face of affairs. The courage\nof the liberal party revived everywhere; the bonds of despotism were\nrelaxed; a spirit of resistance to oppression arose, and grew in\nintensity from year to year, until it at last found vent in the\nconvulsions of 1848. The Jews felt the prophetic promise of a better\norder of things, and roused themselves to renewed exertions.\n\nWe have indicated in a previous article that the cause of political and\nof religious emancipation, so far at least as Germany was concerned,\nadvanced in parallel lines. In 1831 Gabriel Riesser addressed a\nmanifesto to the German people on the position of the Jews among them.*\nIt was a clear and forcible presentment of the case. The style is\ndignified, free from the taint of undue self-assertion, and equally free\nfrom misplaced modesty. He did not petition for a favor; he demanded a\nright. He disdained all measures of compromise; he dared to treat the\nquestion as one of national importance; he asked for simple justice,\nand would be content with nothing less. The German people rewarded his\nmanliness with their confidence,** and under his able leadership the\nstruggle for emancipation was finally brought to a triumphant close.\n\n * Ueber die Stellung der Bekenner des Mosaischen Glaubens an\n die Deutschen aller Confessionen. Riesser's Works, II.\n\n ** He was elected Vice-President of the first German\n Parliament that met in the Pauls-Kirche in Frankfort.\n\nIn 1835 Abraham Geiger, then Rabbi of Wiesbaden, began the publication\nof a \"Scientific Journal for Jewish Theology,\" and with the appearance\nof this periodical the Reform movement entered into its present phase.\nIt was the purpose of Geiger and his coadjutors to prosecute the work of\nreligious renovation on the basis of the science of Judaism. This is\nthe distinguishing feature of the modern school of Jewish Reform.\nBut, before we proceed to sketch the principles of these \"scientific\ntheologians,\" let us rapidly advert to the brief series of events that\nmark the outward development of the new school.\n\nAround the standard which Geiger had unfurled a body of earnest men\nsoon collected, who agreed with him in the main in desiring to reconcile\nscience and life (_Wissenschaft und Leben_). They were mostly young men,\nfresh from the universities, profoundly versed in Hebrew and rabbinic\nlore, zealous lovers of their religion, equipped with the elements of\nancient and modern culture, and anxious to harmonize the conflicting\nclaims of both in their private lives and public station. Many of them\nunderwent severe privations for their convictions' sake. They were\ndistrusted by the various governments, without whose sanction no Jewish\nclergyman could enter upon his functions, and were made to feel, in\ncommon with other Liberals, the displeasure which their measures,\nmoderate though they were, had provoked in high quarters. They were\nsubjected to numberless petty annoyances, and even downright force\nwas employed to check their growing popularity. With the accession of\nFrederick William IV., the Ultramontanes and the party of retrogression\nin the Protestant Church completely gained the ascendant. Covered by\nthe shield of royal favor they offered the most audacious insults to the\nconscience and common-sense of the people, the right of free speech was\nimpaired, the press was shackled, while the most abject superstitions\nwere openly encouraged. The holy coat of Jesus, exhibited at the\ncathedral of Treves, attracted hundreds of thousands of pilgrims, and\nthe fame of the miraculous cures it had effected was diligently spread.\nBut the very violence of the extremists provoked a determined opposition\namong the intelligent classes. National unity and individual liberty\nwere loudly demanded, a German Catholic party was formed with the avowed\nobject of reorganizing Catholicism on the basis of the modern State.\nFree religious congregations began to crop up here and there, which,\nthough feeble as yet in their organization, were properly regarded as\nsignificant of the spirit of the times. On the waves of the turning tide\nthe young Rabbis were carried along. They were ardent patriots;\nthey too, were eager to see their religion wedded to the progressive\ntendencies of the age. The sympathies of the most enlightened of their\nbrethren were cheerfully extended to them, and high hopes were founded\non their success.\n\nIn 1844 they were sufficiently strong to meet in convention. Disclaiming\nthe functions of a religious synod, they assumed the character of a\nscientific body, assembled to promote the objects of truth in their\nspecial department. The discussions were indeed intended to secure\nharmony of sentiment and action, but the resolutions adopted were\nbinding neither upon the members themselves nor upon the congregations\nthey represented. Three times these conventions were repeated at\nBrunswick, Frankfort, and Breslau.\n\nIn 1845 a new congregation was formed, called \"The Reform Association of\nBerlin,\" which was recruited from the extreme left wing of the liberal\nJewish party. This congregation became noted for the introduction of a\nSunday service, a measure which eventually compelled them to entirely\nabandon the Jewish Sabbath. Samuel Holdheim, the ablest exponent of\nradical Judaism, was selected to be their preacher.\n\nThus far had the Reform movement proceeded, when, in 1848, the\nincidents of a great political revolution crowded every other issue into\ncomparative insignificance. The fall of Metter-nich before the intrigues\nof the camarilla and the fury of a popular uprising, the humiliation\nof the king of Prussia, the convocation of the national parliament, the\nBaden insurrection,--these were the events that absorbed the interest\nof the public. Political incompetency on the part of the leaders\nprecipitated the catastrophe of the revolution, and the hopes of the\nGerman people were again doomed to disappointment. Soon the reaction\nset in, a dreary period of stagnation followed, and the efforts of the\nfriends of freedom were paralyzed.\n\nThe Jewish Reformers were stricken down by the general reverse that had\novertaken the liberal party, nor have they since been able to recover\nfrom its stunning effects. Two revolutions, those of 1830 and 1848,\nmark the growth and the decline of \"scientific reform.\" Within the past\nthirty years a number of prominent reformers have been called to this\ncountry, and to them is due the spread of the movement in the United\nStates.\n\nThe difficulties which confronted them here were of the most formidable\nkind. The great bulk of the Jewish emigration to the United States were\noriginally drawn from the village congregations of the Fatherland, and\nwere by no means fair specimens of the intelligence and culture of the\nJewish race. While they displayed the qualities of energy, perseverance,\nand thrift, and soon acquired wealth and influence in the commercial\nworld, few only were fitted to appreciate a movement so thoroughly\nintellectual in its bearings as that which the reformers came to\npropagate amongst them. The mere externals of reform were readily\nadopted, but its spiritual essence escaped them. Accordingly, the\ndevelopment of Reformed Judaism on American soil presents no novel or\nstriking features for our consideration, and it may appropriately be\ntreated as a mere offshoot of the German stock.\n\n\n\n\nPRINCIPLES.\n\nEver since the appearance of Geiger's \"Scientific Journal,\" Jewish\nphilology and Jewish theology have been inseparably connected. To\nattempt a detailed account of the latter would involve the necessity\nof frequent reference to the former, an attempt in which we can hardly\nassume the reader's interest would bear us out. Unwilling to test his\npatience by such a course, we shall content ourselves with stating\nthe main principles of Reformed Judaism, and briefly indicating the\nsuccessive steps by which it advanced to its present positions.\n\nThe one great fact which the Science of Judaism has indisputably\nestablished was the fact of evolution in the sphere of the Jewish\nreligion. Each generation had legislated for itself. The authorities of\nthe Middle Ages had introduced changes in the ritual; the Talmud itself,\nthat corner-stone of orthodoxy, was a stupendous innovation on the\nsimplicity of Bible religion.* Applying the theory of evolution to their\nown case, the modern Rabbis assumed on their part the right to institute\nwhatever changes the exigencies of the age had rendered imperative.\n\n * The theory of an Oral Law, delivered to Moses on Sinai and\n handed down from generation to generation, until it was\n finally embodied in the ordinance of the Talmudical\n academies, is a palpable fiction, invented by the Talmudists\n in order to lend to their own decisions the sanction of\n Divine authorship.\n\nThe very fact of change, it is true, presupposes the existence of a\nsubstratum that remains unchangeable. What that substratum in the case\nof Judaism is claimed to be, we shall presently discover. The measures\nof the Reformers were in the main dictated by the sentiment of\npatriotism and the desire to remove the barriers that interposed between\nthem and their fellow-men. They would cease to be a \"state within-the\nstate,\" cease to separate themselves from the fellowship of the\nGentiles. Hence the leading proposition upon which Reformed Judaism is\nfounded. _The Jewish people have ceased to be a national unit, and will\nexist hereafter as a confederation of religious societies._\n\nIf the Jews have ceased to be a nation, then the Reformers must abandon\nthe idea of a national restoration. They did so. If they have ceased to\nbe a nation, they must give up the hope of a personal Messiah who should\nlead them back to the promised land. They did so> If they desired no\nlonger to dwell in seclusion they must abolish the dietary laws, which\nforbid them to taste of the food of Christians, though commanded by the\nTalmud and founded apparently on the authority of Moses. This, too,\nthey were willing to do. Other changes were inspired by the philosophic\nteachings of the day, and were undertaken with equal readiness. Thus\nthe doctrine of resurrection in the flesh was set aside. The fabric\nof ceremonial observances had been rudely shaken, and soon gave way\naltogether. Changes in the ritual followed. The prayer-book reflected\nthe gloomy spirit of a people whose life was embittered by constant\ntrials and dangers. Naturally they had turned to the past and the\nglories of Zion; the pomp of the sacrifices, the advent of the Messiah,\nthe future restoration of the kingdom of David, were the themes on which\nthey loved to dwell. All this was no longer suited to the temper of\nthe modern Jews, and radical alterations became necessary. Many of the\nfestivals and fast-days also were struck from the calendar. One of the\nmost distinctive customs of the Jews, the so-called rite of Abraham's\nCovenant, was boldly attacked, and though the abolition of this ancient\npractice is still strenuously resisted, there is little doubt that\nit will ultimately go with the rest. Samuel Holdheim advocated the\npropriety of intermarriage between Jews and Christians.\n\nThe manner in which these conclusions were reached may be described\nas follows. At first an attempt was made to found each new measure of\nReform on the authority of the Talmud. The Talmud was attacked with\nits own weapons. The fallacy of such a method becoming apparent, the\nauthority of the Talmud was entirely set aside. A return to the Bible\nwas next in order. But even the laws of the Bible proved to be no longer\ncapable of fulfilment in their totality. A distinction was therefore\ndrawn between the letter and the spirit of the Bible. The letter is\nman's handiwork, the spirit alone ought to be regarded as the Divine\nrule of faith. The \"spirit of the Bible\" is the essence of Judaism,\nwhich cannot change. In the process of evolution it constantly assumes\nnew forms, but remains substantially the same. Nor could any motives of\nexpediency, nor could even the ardent desire of political emancipation\nhave induced the Reformers to pursue the course they did, had they for\none moment believed it contrary to the substantial teachings of\nthe Bible. The spirit of the Bible is expressed in two fundamental\npropositions: the existence of one God, the author and governor of the\nuniverse; and the Messianic mission of the people of Israel. The\nformer is no longer the exclusive property of Judaism, the latter is\ndistinctively its own; both together express the simple creed of the\nReformers.\n\n\n\n\nPROSPECTS.\n\nIf now we cast a glance upon the present aspect of Reformed Judaism we\nare confronted by a state of affairs that by no means corresponds to\nthe great anticipations which were connected with the movement in its\nearlier stages. The ancient institutions have been cleared away,--that\nwas unavoidable; they had long been tottering to their ruin,--but\nan adequate substitute for what was taken has not been provided. The\nleaders have penetrated to the foundations of their religion, but\nupon these bare foundations they have erected what is at best a mere\ntemporary structure incapable of affording them permanent shelter and\nprotection. The temper of the Reform school has been critical.\nIts members were admirably fitted to analyze and to dissect; their\nscholarship is unquestionably great; the stainless purity of their lives\nhas elevated the character of their people and entitled them to sincere\nrespect But they lacked the constructive genius needed for the creation\nof new institutions. In the year 1822 Wholwill declared that \"the Jews\nmust raise themselves and their principle to the level of science.\nScience is the one bond that alone can unite the whole human race.\" The\nemphasis thus placed on science has continued to distinguish the Reform\nmovement down to the present day. In the sphere of religion, however, it\nis not sufficient to apprehend the abstract truth of ideas with the\nhelp of intellect, but it is necessary to array these ideas in concrete\nforms, in order that they may warm the heart and stimulate the will.\n\nWe hold it erroneous to believe that the age of symbolism is passed. The\nprovince of religion is to bring the human soul into communion with\nthe Infinite. In the lower religions the conception of the Infinite was\nmeagre and insufficient and the symbols in use proportionately gross.\nAt the present day it is the ideal of moral perfection that alone is\ncapable of exciting our devotion and kindling our enthusiasm. Now it is\ntrue that the material symbolism of the churches and the synagogues, the\nvenerable, the bread and wine, the scrolls of the Pentateuch tricked\nout in fanciful vestments, fail to appeal to the sympathies of many\neducated men and women of our time; not, however, because they are\nsymbols, but because they are inadequate symbols, because of an almost\npainful disparity between their earthy origin and the vastness of the\nspiritual ideas which they are intended to suggest. There is, on the\nother hand, a species of symbolism peculiarly adapted to the needs of\nthe present generation, and which, if properly understood, might be\nemployed to incalculable advantage in the interest of a revival of the\nreligious sentiment. We allude to the symbolism of association.\n\nThe tendency to associate the efforts of individuals in corporate action\nhas never been more markedly displayed than in our own day. So long as\nsuch associations confine themselves to certain finite objects, they are\nmere social engines organized with a view to utility and power, and\nwith such we are not concerned. The characteristic of symbols is their\nsuggestiveness. They have a meaning in themselves, but they suggest\nillimitable meanings beyond their scope. Now a form of organization is\nnot only conceivable, but has actually been attempted, that fully meets\nthe requirements of the symbolic character. The Christian Church is\ndesigned to be such an organization. Not only does it propose to unite\nits members and to satisfy their spiritual needs during the term of\ntheir sojourn on earth, but it aspires to typify the union of all saints\nunder the sovereignty of Jesus, and thus to give to the believer a\npresentiment of the felicity and perfection of the higher world. In\nlike manner the Hebrews have been acquainted with the symbolism of\nassociation from a very early period of their history. If they delight\nto style themselves the chosen people, the meaning of that phrase, so\noften misunderstood, is purely symbolical.\n\nRecognizing the fact that the majority of mankind are at no time\nprepared to entertain the ideals of the few, they undertook to work out\namong themselves a nobler conception of religion and a loftier morality,\ntrusting that the force of their example would in the end bring about\nthe universal adoption of their faith and ethical code. In this sense\nthe choice of Israel was interpreted by the Prophets. They believed that\ntheir selection by the Deity imposed upon them heavier responsibilities,\nand regarded it in the light of an obligation rather than a privilege.\nWhat the statue is to the ideal of beauty, a whole people resolved to\nbe in relation to the ideal of the good. The same conception still\ndominates the thoughts of the Reformers, and is expressed by them in\ntheir doctrine of Israel's messianic mission. They claim that the\nJews have been for the past three thousand years the \"Swiss guard of\nmonotheism.\" They still believe themselves to be the typical people,\nand their firm persuasion on this head is the one strong feature of\nthe Reformers' creed. If they will use their world-wide association to\nillustrate anew the virtues for which their race became renowned in the\npast,--and we refer especially to the purity of the sexual relations\namong them, their pious reverence for domestic ties,--they may still\nbecome, as they aspire to do, exemplars of purity to be joyfully\nimitated by others. If they will use it in the spirit of their ancient\nlawgiver to tone down the harsh distinctions of wealth and poverty, to\nestablish juster relations between the strong and weak, in brief, to\nharmonize the social antagonisms of modern life, they may confer an\ninestimable benefit upon mankind. But the manner in which the symbolism\nof association might be applied to invigorate the religious sentiment,\nand to expel the coldness of the times by the fervor of a new\nenthusiasm, is a subject of too vast dimensions to be thus summarily\ndespatched, and we shall hope to recur to it on some future occasion.*\n\n * In an article on the religious aspects of the social\n question.\n\nThe present condition of liberal Judaism is strongly akin to that of\nliberal Christianity. The old is dead, the new has not been born. It\nis hardly safe to predict what possible developments the future may yet\nhave in store. As regards the Jews, however, it is right to add that\nsuch changes as have taken place in the constitution of their religion\nhave not brought them in any sense nearer to Christianity. On the\ncontrary, since the belief in a personal Messiah has been dropped, the\nhope of their conversion has become more vague and visionary than\never. Those whom the worship of the synagogue and the temple no longer\nattracts either become wholly sceptical and indifferent, or, as is often\nthe case, transfer their allegiance to the new humanitarian doctrine\nwhich is fast assuming the character of a religion in the ardor it\ninspires and the strong spiritual union it cements. For the great body\nof the Jews, however, the central doctrine of Judaism remains unshaken,\nand doubtless, so long as Christianity exists, Judaism as a distinct\ncreed will coexist with it. The modern Jews, like their ancestors,\nbelieve that their mission is not yet ended, and they await with\npatience the rising of some new man of genius amongst them, who will\ncombine the qualities of the popular leader with.'the attributes of\nthe scholar, and will give body and form to the ideas elaborated by the\nReformers. As a religious society they desire to remain distinct. But\nas citizens, they are eager to remove whatever distinctions still hamper\ntheir intercourse with their neighbors of other creeds. Never has the\ndesire to return to Palestine and retrieve their lost nationality been\nmore foreign to their sentiments than at the present day, though recent\nspeculations have misled many to believe otherwise. They know they can\nno more return thither. They would not if they could. They love the land\nof their birth; they wish to join their labors with those of others in\npromoting the progress of the entire human race. They have ceased to\nregret the past, and desire nothing more earnestly than to live in the\npresent and for the future.\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Creed And Deed, by Felix Adler\n\n*** "} -{"text": "\n\n\n\nProduced by Fay Dunn, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n THE KNITTING BOOK.\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n THE\n\n KNITTING BOOK.\n\n\n BY\n\n\n M^DLLE. RIEGO DE LA BRANCHARDIERE.\n\n ---\n\n THIRD EDITION.\n\n ---\n\n\n\n LONDON:\n SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO.,\n ACKERMANN & CO., STRAND; OLIVER AND BOYD, EDINBURGH;\n AND ALL THE BERLIN WAREHOUSES.\n\n ---\n\n 1848.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n ----------------------------\n\n_Ladies_ are respectfully informed that these articles _cannot_ be\n purchased without the _registered_ mark being affixed; and parties\n wishing to manufacture them for the purposes of sale, must have the\n authoress\u2019s permission.\n\n ----------------------------\n\n\n\n\n WILKINSON & CO., PRINTERS, 1, BARTLETT\u2019S COURT, HOLBORN HILL.\n\n ---\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n PREFACE.\n\n\nIT is usually considered necessary to introduce works of any\ndescription, however trifling, with a few prefatory remarks. Happily the\ndays of dedication are nearly at their close, and an author has now only\nto direct the attention of the reader to any particular leading\nfeatures.\n\nI trust that my endeavours in this KNITTING BOOK, in the elementary\ninstructions contained, with the full explanation of terms and carefully\nexecuted illustrations, are conveyed with a distinctiveness, easily to\nbe comprehended by the learner. The designs are original, and have\nrepeatedly been worked with great care, to prove their correctness; the\nillustrations have equally shared my supervision; and I humbly hope and\ntrust that it may be as successful, and give as much satisfaction to my\nfriends and the public, as my CROCHET BOOK, for which I am amply\nrewarded by its unprecedented success, and grateful for the many\nflattering testimonials received. I must here also make some\nobservations upon the many cheap publications that have recently\nappeared (two of which have copied _verbatim_ my illustrated\ninstructions, even to a fault in the drawing), and to direct the\nattention of those of my readers competent to understand the many\nplagiarisms and general unfitness as works of instruction, of the\nmajority, if not the whole of those publications. I should hope, and it\nis needless to say, that these remarks proceed not from the impulse of a\nspirit of rivalry, but from a sincere conviction that the details and\ninstructions therein conveyed are calculated seriously to mislead, if\nnot entirely prevent and disgust the student from acquiring a proper\nknowledge of these elegant and useful employments, by their\nincorrectness; that, in short, they are nothing more than very imperfect\narrangements, copied from the really useful Works that have been\nhitherto published, and tend quite as much to injure those Who publish\nfrom experience, as those who learn in order to derive instruction or\nadd information to their previous knowledge.\n\n E. R. B.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLadies who may require instruction, can obtain cards of address at the\nPublisher\u2019s, or Messrs. Barry and Sons, Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly.\n\n\u261e These designs are registered, but any person desirous of working the\npatterns for the purposes of sale, can have permission upon application.\n\n\n [Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS.\n\n ---\n\n TERMS.\n\n\n PAGE\n\n TO CAST ON WITH ONE PIN 1\n\n TO CAST ON WITH TWO PINS 2\n\n PLAIN KNITTING 3\n\n TO MAKE A STITCH 3\n\n TO MAKE TWO, THREE, OR MORE STITCHES 4\n\n TO SLIP A STITCH 4\n\n TO KNIT TWO STITCHES TOGETHER 5\n\n TO KNIT THREE STITCHES TOGETHER 5\n\n PEARL, ALSO CALLED SEAM-BACK, AND RIB 5\n KNITTING\n\n PEARL, AND PLAIN STITCHES IN THE SAME 5\n ROW\n\n TO PEARL TWO OR THREE STITCHES TOGETHER 6\n\n TO MAKE A STITCH IN PEARL KNITTING 6\n\n TO FORM A ROUND 6\n\n TO RAISE STITCHES 7\n\n A ROW 7\n\n A PATTERN 7\n\n TO JOIN TWO PIECES OF KNITTING TOGETHER 8\n\n A PARENTHESIS ( ) 8\n\n A MARK * 8\n\n TO CAST OFF 9\n\n STITCHES OVER 9\n\n\n\n\n PATTERNS.\n\n\n BERTHE. CHANTILLY PATTERN 10\n LACE EDGING FOR BERTHE 15\n MANCHETTE, POINT LACE PATTERN 18\n DOUBLE COLLAR, MALINES LACE 23\n ANTI-MACASSAR PATTERN 26\n \u2014\u2014 MALTESE PATTERN 28\n CENTRE FOR SHAWL, VENETIAN PATTERN 32\n ROUND BORDER FOR DITTO 35\n FRINGE FOR DITTO 38\n CANEZOU 39\n CHEMISETTE, GENOESE 40\n CAP (BABY\u2019S) 44\n CROWN FOR DITTO 45\n COUVRE PIED, OR CURTAIN 47\n COLLAR 50\n LACE EDGING 52\n \u2014\u2014 DITTO 54\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n INSTRUCTION IN KNITTING,\n\n AND\n\n EXPLANATION OF TERMS.\n\n ---\n\n TO CAST ON WITH ONE PIN.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTAKE the thread, and putting it between the second and third fingers of\nthe left hand, leave an end of about one yard for every 100 stitches;\npass it round the left thumb, from left to right; then take the pin in\nthe right hand, placing it under the crossing of the thread; put the\nneedle down the loop, and bring the thread from the outside forward on\nthe point of the pin; take the thread in the right hand, and passing it\nround the pin as A, turn the loop B on the left thumb over the pin, and\ndraw it tight with the end thread in the left hand, and repeat until the\nrequired number of stitches are on the pin.\n\n\n\n\n TO CAST ON WITH TWO PINS.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThis is the Spanish method, and is particularly adapted for working fine\nwools, by its forming a looser stitch. Tie a loop at the end of the\nthread, and put it on the pin, holding it in the left hand; take the\nother pin with the right hand, and put it in the loop; pass the thread\nbetween the pins, and bring it forward then with the right hand pin;\nbring the thread through the loop on the left pin; there will now be a\nloop on each pin as C and D; then pass the loop D on to the left pin;\nrepeat by putting the right hand pin through the loop D, and passing the\nthread between the pins as before.\n\n\n\n\n PLAIN KNITTING.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nAfter casting on the stitches, hold the pin with the stitches on it in\nthe left hand, and with the thread turned round the little finger of the\nright hand pass it under the second and third fingers, and over the\nforefinger; take the other pin in the right hand; put this pin into the\nfirst loop on the left pin, and with the forefinger of the right hand\npass the thread between the pins, bring the thread through, which forms\none stitch; then take the loop off the left pin and repeat.\n\n\n\n\n TO MAKE A STITCH\n\n Bring the thread forward between the pins; when this stitch is worked in\n the next row it will form an open stitch.\n\n\n\n\n TO MAKE TWO, THREE, OR MORE STITCHES.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nTurn the thread as many times round the pin as E, F, G, and in the next\nrow; pearl a stitch and knit a stitch, alternately, taking off one turn\nof the thread each time, for as many stitches as were made in the row\nbefore.\n\n\n\n\n TO SLIP A STITCH.\n\n\nTo pass a stitch from the left pin to the right without working it. In\nall knitting the first stitch of every row should be slipped to make a\nfirm and even selvedge; this is not mentioned in the receipts, as it\nwould much lengthen the description, but is to be observed as a fixed\nrule; for example, when a row commences thus; knit 2 together, work as\nfollows:\u2014slip the 1st stitch, knit the 2d, and turn the slipped stitch\nover the knitted one.\n\n\n\n\n TO KNIT TWO STITCHES TOGETHER.\n\n\nTake two stitches with the right hand pin, and knit as 1 stitch.\n\n\n\n\n TO KNIT THREE STITCHES TOGETHER.\n\n\nSlip 1 stitch, knit 2 stitches together, and with the point of the left\nhand pin turn the slipped stitch over the 2 knitted together, leaving\nbut 1 stitch.\n\n\n\n\n PEARL, ALSO CALLED SEAM, BACK, AND RIB KNITTING.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nCommence the row with the thread in front of the pin, pass the point of\nthe pin down the stitch, turn the thread round the pin, and take it off\nas in plain knitting; repeat, always keeping the thread in front.\n\n\n\n\n PEARL AND PLAIN STITCHES IN THE SAME ROW.\n\n\nPass the thread to the back of the work before knitting plain stitches,\nand to the front before pearling stitches.\n\n\n\n\n TO PEARL TWO OR THREE STITCHES TOGETHER\n\n\nKeep the thread in front of the pin, pass the point of the right pin\ndown 2 or 3 stitches, and pearl them together.\n\n\n\n\n TO MAKE A STITCH IN PEARL KNITTING.\n\n\nHaving the thread in front of the pin, turn the thread completely round\nthe pin, so as to bring it in front again.\n\n\n\n\n TO FORM A ROUND.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n4 or 5 pins are required; cast on the required number of stitches on one\npin, and divide them equally on the other 3 or 4 pins, keeping the 4th\nor 5th pin to knit with, and with this pin knit the 1st stitch that was\ncast; on knitting off the 3 or 4 pins form one round.\n\n\n\n\n TO RAISE STITCHES.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThe work must be held on the right side. Put the pin in the selvedge or\nside of the work, as H; pass the thread round the pin and bring it\nthrough, so as to form a stitch of plain knitting; repeat the same to\nthe end.\n\n\n\n\n A ROW.\n\n\nIs knitting from one end of the pin to the other.\n\n\n\n\n A PATTERN.\n\n\nIs the number of rows, that are worked before commencing again.\n\n\n\n\n TO JOIN TWO PIECES OF KNITTING TOGETHER.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nAs in the Berthe and Collar, place the two pins containing the work\ntogether, the deepest at the back, and with a third pin put it through\none stitch of each pin, as I and K, and knit them as one stitch.\n\n\n\n\n THE STITCHES BETWEEN A PARENTHESIS ( ).\n\n\n(Knit 2 together, and knit 1 three times), are worked thus, knit 2\ntogether, knit 1; knit 2 together, knit 1; knit 2 together, knit 1; this\nprevents useless repetition.\n\n\n\n\n A MARK *.\n\n\nWhen this mark (*) occurs in a row, the stitches before it are not to be\nrepeated in the row, being merely the edge stitches to prevent the work\nfrom decreasing; thus when knit 3 together, is in a row, the row\ngenerally begins with knit 2 together and ends the same.\n\n\n\n\n TO CAST OFF.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nKnit the first 2 stitches; turn the first stitch, as L, over the 2d M;\nknit the 3d and turn the 2d stitch over; repeat at the end of the row,\ndraw the thread through and fasten off. When part of a row only is cast\noff, as for example\u2014cast off 30 stitches, leaving 20 stitches; cast off\n31 stitches, and put the last loop cast off on the left pin, to make up\nthe 20 stitches.\n\n\n\n\n STITCHES OVER.\n\n\nA stitch or stitches over, in many of the patterns, commencing\nthus\u2014\u201ccast on 10 stitches for each pattern, and one over\u201d for 7\npatterns, cast on 71 stitches. As many patterns end with \u201cmake a\nstitch,\u201d it could not be done without this stitch to perfect the\npattern.\n\nThe pins are all gauged by the Bell Gauge.\n\n\n\n\n BERTHE. CHANTILLY PATTERN.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 8; Pins No. 19, or Fine Black\n Netting Silk._\n\n_This Berthe is composed of two rows of lace, with open rows between\nthem for ribbon. In this pattern, the pearl stitch is the half of the 2\nmade stitches in the row before. Cast on 49 stitches with one pin._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 14.\n\n2d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 12, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, pearl half\n a stitch, knit 1.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit\n 2 together, knit 14.\n\n4th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 11, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1,\n knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 12.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 9, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 5, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7, make 1,\n knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 5, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10.\n\n8th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 7, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 11, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1,\n knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2 *, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 9, repeat from * once more; end with 8 plain\n instead of 9.\n\n10th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 5, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit three together, make 1,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 7, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 3, make 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2 *, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 5; repeat from * once more, and end with 1\n plain.\n\n12th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7;\n repeat once more, and end with make 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2 *, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1,\n knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat\n from * once more, and end with knit 3.\n\n14th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3 *, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit\n 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together; repeat from * once more,\n and end with knit 2 together instead of three together, pearl 1, knit\n 1.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3; repeat from * 3 times\n more, and end with knit 3.\n\n16th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together *, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat from * 3 times more, and end with knit 2 together, knit 1,\n pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n17th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together *, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7; repeat from * 3\n times more, and end with one plain.\n\n18th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together *, knit 7, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 2; repeat from * once more, and end with knit\n 3 together instead of 2 plain, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n19th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 11;\n repeat from * once more, and end with 10 plain instead of 11.\n\n20th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 8, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 6, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 6, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, knit 2 together, pearl 1,\n knit 1.\n\n21st.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 6, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 6, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make\n 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 12.\n\n22d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 11, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n23d.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 14.\n\n24th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 13, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make\n 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3 together, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\nRepeat from 1st row\u2014and when sufficient is made, cast off. For the\n ribbon raise the loops at the selvedge and knit 6 rows plain.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 3 plain *, make 6, knit 3 together, knit 1, knit 3 together;\n repeat from * to the end.\n\n8th.\u2014Knit 3 together, pearl 1, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1;\n these last 6 stitches are the made stitches in last row, taking off\n one turn of the thread each stitch; knit 6 rows plain.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 6 plain, and then work the same as the 7th row from the *.\n\n16th.\u2014Same as 8th, and then knit 6 rows plain.\n\n25th.\u2014Same as 7th.\n\n26th.\u2014Same as 8th, and then knit 6 rows plain. This finishes the 1st\n part of the Berthe, and leaving it on the pins, work the 2d part, and\n when as many patterns are completed as the 1st part, raise the loops\n of the selvedge on the pin, place the two parts together, the\n narrowest in front, and with a third pin knit 1 stitch off each\n together, and knit 2 rows plain and cast off.\u2014See \u201cExplanation of\n Terms, to Join.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n CHANTILLY LACE EDGING.\n\n SECOND PART OF BERTHE.\n\n _This may be used for a variety of purposes. Pins and thread as before,\n cast on 21 stitches._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 4.\n\n2d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 2.\n\n4th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 4.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 8, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7,\n make 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 9.\n\n8th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 6, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make\n 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 7.\n\n10th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit, 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 5.\n\n12th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7, make\n 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1,\n knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3.\n\n14th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 2, make 1, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, * make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3; repeat from * once\n more, and end with knit 1.\n\n16th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, pearl 1,\n knit 1.\n\n17th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 7, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 6.\n\n18th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3 together, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n19th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together,\n make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 8.\n\n20th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 6,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together,\n knit 2 together, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n21st.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 6, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4.\n\n22d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1.\n\n23d.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 2, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2.\n\n24th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4,\n (make 1, and knit 3 together twice), pearl 1, knit 1; commence again\n at the first row.\n\n\n\n\n MANCHETTE, OR UNDER SLEEVE POINT LACE PATTERN.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 12; Pins No. 21, Ball Gauge.\n Cast on 81 stitches with 2 pins._\n\n1st row, pearl; 2d row, plain; 3d row, pearl; 4th row, plain; 5th row,\n pearl.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 4, knit 3 together, knit 3 together; repeat.\n\n7th.\u2014Pearl 3, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1; the last 4 stitches are those\n made on 6th row; repeat.\n\n8th, plain; 9th, pearl; 10th, plain; 11th, pearl.\n\n12th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2; repeat.\n\n13th.\u2014Pearl. There will now be 121 stitches on the pin; these 13 rows\n form the band, and now commence the pattern.\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together; repeat at the end of the row, knit 1.\n\n2d.\u2014Make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n4th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together; repeat\n from *, and end with knit 2 together.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n6th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n7th.\u2014Same as 5th.\n\n8th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1; repeat, at the\n end, knit 1. Repeat this pattern 3 times more, then knit a row, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, and repeat to the end, which will bring the\n manchette to the original 84 stitches; commence again at the 1st row,\n and work the band and the pattern once more, then work the band, and\n cast off; finish with the point lace edging working 9 scollops for\n each manchette, and trim with ribbon in each open row of the band.\n\n\n\n\n POINT LACE EDGING.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 12; Pins No. 21, Bell Gauge.\n Cast on 12 stitches._\n\n 1st row.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 3.\n\n 2d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 3d.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3.\n\n 4th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 5th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together,\n make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3.\n\n 6th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 7th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 3.\n\n 8th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 9th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 3, make 1,\n knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3.\n\n 10th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit, 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 11th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3.\n\n 12th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 13th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, (knit, 2 together twice), make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 3.\n\n 14th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 15th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3.\n\n 16th.\u2014Same as 14th.\n\n 17th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3, make 1,\n knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 2.\n\n 18th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 19th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2.\n\n 20th.\u2014Same as 10th.\n\n 21st.\u2014The same as 13th, but ending with knit 2 together, knit 2\n instead of knit 3, make 1, knit 3.\n\n 22d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 23d.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 2.\n\n 24th.\u2014Same as 6th.\n\n 25th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 3, make 1,\n knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2.\n\n 26th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2\n together.\n\n 27th\u2014Same as 3d, but ending knit 2 together, knit 2 instead of knit 3.\n\n 28th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n 29th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2.\n\n 30th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together; commence again at the 1st\n row.\n\n\n\n\n COLLAR. MALINES LACE.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Knitting or Crochet Thread, No. 16; Pins No. 20, Bell Gauge.\n Cast on 476 stitches, or 19 for each Pattern and one over at the end.\n This Collar is composed of two rows of lace._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together; repeat.\n\n2d, 3d, and 4th.\u2014Plain.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, knit 16, knit 3 together; repeat from *, and end\n with knit 2 together instead of 3 together.\n\n6th.\u2014Pearl 2 together *, pearl 14, pearl 3 together; repeat from *, end\n with pearl 2 together.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, knit 6, make 1, knit 6, knit 3 together; repeat\n from *, end with knit 2 together.\n\n8th\u2014Pearl.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, knit 5, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 5, knit 3\n together; repeat from *, end with knit 2 together.\n\n10th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, knit 4, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 4, knit 3\n together; repeat from *, end with knit 2 together.\n\n12th.\u2014Pearl 2 together *, pearl 11, pearl 3 together; repeat from *, end\n with pearl 2 together.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 3 together; repeat\n from *, end with knit 2 together.\n\n14th.\u2014Pearl 2 together *, pearl 9, pearl 3 together; repeat from *, end\n with pearl 2 together.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together; repeat from *, end with\n knit 2 together.\n\n16th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n17th.\u2014Knit 1 *, (make 1, and knit 2 together twice), knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1; repeat from *.\n\n18th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n19th.\u2014Knit 2 *, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3 together, make\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3; repeat from *, end with knit 2.\n\n20th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n21st.\u2014Knit 3 *, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 5; repeat from *, end with knit 3.\n\n22d.\u2014Pearl.\n\n23d.\u2014Knit 4 *, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 7; repeat from *,\n end with knit 4.\n\n24th.\u2014Pearl. There will now be 251 stitches on the pin.\n\n25th, 26th, 27th, and 28th.\u2014Plain.\n\n29th.\u2014Knit 4 *, make 4, (knit 3 together twice); repeat from *, end with\n knit 1.\n\n30th.\u2014Pearl 3 *, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1, pearl 1. These 4 stitches are\n the made stitches in the last row. Pearl 2; repeat from *, end with\n pearl 4.\n\n31st.\u2014Plain.\n\n32d, pearl; 33d plain; 34th, pearl.\n\n35th.\u2014Knit 3 *, (knit 3 together twice), make 4; repeat from *, end with\n make 4, knit 2 together.\n\n36th.\u2014Pearl 2; repeat the 30th row from *.\n\n37th, plain; 38th, pearl; 39th, plain; 40th, pearl.\n\n41st as 29th; 42d as 30th; 43d, plain; 44th, pearl.\n\nFor the second row of lace, with another pair of pins, cast on 476\n stitches, and knit from the 1st to the 24th rows.\n\nTo join the 2 pieces together, see _Instruction_; and when joined\n together, knit 1 row thus:\u2014pearl 9, pearl 2 together; repeat, and work\n from the 25th to the 31st row; cast off and finish with a narrow\n ribbon passed through the open rows.\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n ANTI-MACASSAR VENETIAN PATTERN.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Mecklenburgh Thread, No. 3; or Taylor\u2019s Knitting Cotton, No.\n 12, Pins No. 15, Bell Gauge. Cast on 121 stitches or 12 for each pattern\n and 1 over._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nKnit 8 rows plain, then commence the pattern, knitting 6 plain stitches\n at the beginning and end of every row. These stitches are not included\n in the direction.\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 5, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 4; at the end of\n these rows knit 1 plain, beside the edge stitches.\n\n2d.\u2014Pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 2; repeat.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1; repeat.\n\n4th.\u2014Pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 7, make 1, pearl 2\n together; repeat.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 9, make 1, knit 3 together; repeat\n from * at the end, knit 2 together, instead of 3 together.\n\n6th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat.\n\n8th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat.\n\n10th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together,\n make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat.\n\n12th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n13th.\u2014Same as 7th.\n\n14th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n15th.\u2014Same as 9th.\n\n16th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n17th.\u2014Same as 11th.\n\n18th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n19th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 7, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat.\n\n20th.\u2014Pearl 2, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 5, pearl 2 together, make\n 1, pearl 1; repeat.\n\n21st.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 2; repeat.\n\n22d.\u2014Pearl 4, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make\n 1, pearl 3; commence at 1st row, work 8 patterns, then knit 8 rows\n plain, cast off, and finish with the fringe or edging.\n\n\n\n\n ANTI-MACASSAR.\n\n _For a Prie Dieu. Maltese Cross Pattern. Taylor\u2019s Mecklenburgh White or\n Drab Thread, No. 3; or Taylor\u2019s Knitting Cotton, No. 10; Pins No. 13,\n Bell Gauge. Cast on 143 stitches._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThis pattern is composed of 4 stripes of diamond and 3 stripes of\ncrosses. At the beginning of every row knit 2 plain stitches for the\nedge (these stitches are not included in the direction), and at the end\nof every row repeat the first 15 stitches of the same, so that the rows\nmay end with the diamond pattern, as at the commencement.\n\n1st row.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 12;\n repeat three times, and then work the first 15 stitches of the\n pattern.\n\n2d.\u2014make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 3 together, make 1,\n pearl 5, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 10, pearl 2 together, make 1,\n pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 12; repeat 3 times, and work\n as before.\n\n3d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 12;\n repeat as before.\n\n4th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, (pearl\n 3, make 1, pearl 2 together twice), pearl 9, pearl 2 together, make 1,\n pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 11; repeat as before.\n\n5th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 8, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10; repeat as before.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 9, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl\n 11; repeat as before.\n\n7th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 12;\n repeat as before.\n\n8th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 3 together, make\n 1, pearl 5, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 11, make 1, pearl 3\n together, make 1, pearl 13; repeat as before.\n\n9th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 9, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 11; repeat\n as before.\n\n10th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1,\n (pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together twice), pearl 8, pearl 2 together,\n make 1, pearl 5, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 10; repeat as before.\n\n11th.\u2014Same as 5th.\n\n12th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 10, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl\n 12; repeat.\n\n13th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 8, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10; repeat.\n\n14th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 3 together, make\n 1, pearl 5, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 10, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 12; repeat as\n before.\n\n15th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 8, knit\n 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10; repeat.\n\n16th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1,\n (pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together twice), pearl 10, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 12; repeat.\n\n17th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 4; repeat.\n\n18th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 3; repeat.\n\n19th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make\n 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n20th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 3 together, make\n 1, pearl 5, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3; repeat, &c.\n\n21st.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit\n 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4; repeat, &c.\n\n22d.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl\n 3, (make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, twice), (make 1, pearl 3\n together, make 1, and pearl 5, three times); repeat.\n\n23d.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 9, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 11; repeat, &c.\n\n24th as 12th; 25th as 13th; 26th as 14th; 27th as 15th; 28th as 16th;\n 29th as 5th; 30th as 12th.\n\n31st.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 11,\n make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 13; repeat.\n\n32d.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 3 together, make\n 1, pearl 5, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 9, pearl 2 together, make\n 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 11; repeat, &c.\n\n33d as 15th.\n\n34th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl\n 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 9, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl\n 11; repeat, &c.\n\n35th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 12; repeat, &c.\n\n36th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 3, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl\n 11, make 1, pearl 3 together, make 1, pearl 13; repeat, and commence\n again at the 1st row.\n\n\n\n\n CENTRE FOR SHETLAND SHAWL, AND PATTERN FOR ANTI-MACASSAR.\n\n _The best Shetland Wool: Pins No. 11. Cast on 271 stitches.\u2014For\n Anti-Macassar, Taylor\u2019s Knitting Cotton, No. 12, Pins No. 13, Bell\n Gauge. Cast on 22 stitches for each pattern, and 7 over for the edge._\n\nKnit 4 rows plain, and then commence the pattern.\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, (knit 2 together, and make 1 four\n times), knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, (make 1, and\n knit 2 together 4 times), knit 1; repeat from * at the end, make 1,\n knit 3.\n\n2d.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, (make 1 and pearl 2 together 4 times),\n make 1, pearl 3, (make 1 and pearl 2 together 4 times), make 1; repeat\n from * at the end of the row, knit 3 together, knit 3.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, (knit 2 together, and make 1 four times)\n knit 5, (make 1, and knit 2 together 4 times), knit 1; repeat from *,\n and end with make 1, knit 3.\n\n4th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, (make 1, and pearl 2 together 3 times),\n make 1, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together,\n make 1, pearl 1, (make 1, and pearl 2 together 3 times); make 1;\n repeat from *, and end with knit 3 together, knit 3.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, (knit 2 together, and make 1, three\n times), knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, (make 1, and\n knit 2 together 3 times), knit 1; repeat from *, and end with make 1,\n knit 3.\n\n6th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, (make 1, and pearl 2 together twice),\n make 1, pearl 11, (make 1, and pearl 2 together twice), make 1; repeat\n from *, and end with knit 3 together, knit 3.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, (knit 2 together, and make 1 twice), knit\n 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n (make 1, and knit 2 together twice, knit 1; repeat from * and end with\n make 1, knit 3.\n\n8th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, make 1, pearl 2 together, (make 1,\n pearl 3, make 1, pearl 3 together twice), make 1, pearl 3, make 1,\n pearl 2 together, make 1; repeat from *, and end with knit 3 together,\n knit 3.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 17, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat from *, and end with make 1, knit 3.\n\n10th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, (make 1, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together 3 times), make 1, pearl 1, make 1;\n repeat from *, and end with knit 3 together, knit 3.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, (make\n 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, twice), make 1, knit 3 together,\n make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat from *, and\n end with make 1, knit 3.\n\n12th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, make 1, pearl 2 together, make 1,\n pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 9, pearl 2 together, make 1,\n pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, make 1; repeat from *, and end with\n pearl 3 together, knit 3.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, (knit 2 together, and make 1, twice),\n (knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n twice), knit 1, (make 1, and knit 2 together twice), knit 1; repeat\n from *, and end with make 1, knit 3.\n\n14th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, (make 1, and pearl 2 together twice),\n make 1, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 3 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1,\n pearl 3 together, make 1, pearl 1, (make 1, and pearl 2 together\n twice), make 1; repeat from *, and end with knit 3 together, knit 3.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 1 *, (knit 2 together, and make 1 three\n times), knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 1, (make 1, and knit 2 together 3 times), knit 1; repeat from\n *, and end with make 1, knit 3.\n\n16th.\u2014Knit 3 *, pearl 3 together, (make 1, and pearl 2 together 3\n times), make 1, pearl 1, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2\n together, make 1, pearl 1, (make 1, and pearl 2 together 3 times),\n make 1; repeat from *, knit 3 together, knit 3.\n\nCommence again at 1st row, knit 14 patterns, then knit 4 rows plain, and\n cast off.\n\n\n\n\n BORDER FOR SHETLAND SHAWL, ROUND CORNERS.\n\n _Cast on with 2 pins No. 7; 748 stitches._\n\nThis will be sufficient for two sides of the shawl, then knit 4 rows\nplain.\n\n5th row.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 7, knit 3\n together, knit 7, make 1, knit 2; repeat.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 20. The alternate rows are all to\n be worked as this row, to the 18th row.\n\n7th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 6, knit 3 together,\n knit 6, make 1, knit 3; repeat.\n\n9th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 5, knit 3 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 2; repeat.\n\n11th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 4, knit 3 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 3; repeat.\n\n13th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, (make 1, and knit 2 together\n twice), make 1, knit 3, knit 3 together, knit 3, (make 1, and knit 2\n together twice), make 1, knit 2; repeat.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n15th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, (make 1, and knit 2 together\n twice), make 1, knit 2, knit 3 together, knit 2, (make 1, and knit 2\n together twice), make 1, knit 3; repeat.\n\n17th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, (make 1, and knit 2 together 3\n times), make 1, knit 1, knit 3 together, knit 1, (make 1, and knit 2\n together 3 times), make 1, knit 2; repeat.\n\n19th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, (make 1, and knit 2 together 3\n times), make 1, knit 3 together, (make 1, and knit 2 together 3\n times), make 1, knit 3; repeat.\n\n20th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 20; repeat.\n\n21st same as 6th; 22d same as 20th. This pattern is now worked over\n again from the 5th row, excepting the 1st three, the 6 centre, and 3\n end patterns of every row, which are decreased to form the corners\n thus.\n\n23d.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 6, knit 3 together,\n knit 6, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times for the\n corner, then work as 5th row 11 times, as this row 6 times, as 5th 11\n times, as this row 3 times.\n\n24th.\u2014Make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 18; repeat 3 times, then work as\n the 6th row 11 times, as this row 6 times, as the 6th 11 times, as\n this row 3 times.\n\n25th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 5, knit 3 together,\n knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times, as 7th row 11\n times, and then work the pattern the same number of times as in the\n 23d and 24th rows.\n\n26th.\u2014Same as 24th; pearl 16 instead of 18 in the corner patterns.\n\n27th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 4, knit 3 together,\n knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times, then as 9th\n row 11 times, &c.\n\n28th.\u2014Same as 24th; pearl 14 instead of 18 in the corner patterns.\n\n29th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 3, knit 3 together,\n knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times, then as 11th\n row 11 times, &c.\n\n30th.\u2014Same as 24th; pearl 12 instead of 18 in the corner patterns.\n\n31st.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 2, knit 3 together,\n knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times, as 13th row\n 11 times, &c.\n\n32d.\u2014Same as 24th; pearling 10 instead of 18 in the corner patterns.\n\n33d.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 1, knit 3 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times, as 15th row\n 11 times, &c.\n\n34th.\u2014Same as 24th; pearl 8 instead of 18 for corner patterns.\n\n35th.\u2014Make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat 3 times as the 17th row, 11 times as\n this, &c.\n\n36th.\u2014Same as 24th; pearling 6 instead of 18 in the corner pattern.\n\n37th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 3 together, knit 2; repeat 3\n times, as the 19th 11 times, &c.\n\n38th.\u2014Pearl and cast off; then work another piece the same, and sew one\n border to the wrong side of the shawl; sew that when folded both\n borders will be on the right side.\n\n\n\n\n FRINGE FOR SHAWL.\n\n _Double Wool. Cast on 9 stitches._\n\n1st row.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together; repeat and end with knit 1. When\n sufficient rows are worked, cast off 4 stitches, leaving 5 to be\n pulled out for the fringe.\n\n\n\n\n CANEZOU.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Mecklenburgh Thread, No. 6; Pins No. 14, Bell Gauge. Or Black\n Netting Silk._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nThe chemisette pattern and the border for Shetland Shawl are easily\narranged to form an elegant canezou thus: work the chemisette pattern\nuntil there are 199 stitches on the pin instead of 135, and work the\nsides the same, repeating the pattern 10 times instead of 6; then work\none piece of the border with the same pins and thread, it will form the\nhalf square.\n\n\n\n\n CHEMISETTE.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 12; Pins No. 20, Bell Gauge.\n Cast on 7 stitches._\n\n\n[Illustration: SECTION OF CHEMISETTE.]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 2 together, (make 1, and knit 1 three times), make 1, knit\n 2 together.\n\n2d.\u2014Pearl.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n4th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n6th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n8th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together.\n\n10th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n12th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 6, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 6, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n14th.\u2014Pearl. These 14 rows form the point, and are not to be repeated.\n Now commence the pattern.\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2, knit 2\n together. These stitches form the edge *; make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit\n 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together *. There will now be 8 stitches\n left; work them thus for the edge:\u2014make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 2, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n2d.\u2014Pearl.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2, knit 2 together,\n make 1 for the edge *, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1 * for the edge, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 2, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n4th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together for the edge *, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together * then for the edge, make\n 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n6th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 6, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1 for the edge *, knit 5, make 1, knit 3 together, make\n 1 * for the edge, knit 6, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n8th.\u2014Pearl; repeat these 8 rows until there are 135 stitches on the pin,\n working 1 repeat of the pattern between the * each time. Now commence\n the side.\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, this\n is for edge *; knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 3; repeat from * 6 times more, and then turn back,\n leaving 74 stitches on the pin for the other side.\n\n2d.\u2014Pearl 2 together, pearl the rest; the alternate rows are all worked\n the same.\n\n3d.\u2014Edge same as 1st row, knit 1 *, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together; repeat from * at end, omit the last\n knit 2 together.\n\n5th.\u2014Edge as 1st row *, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 2; repeat from *, end with knit 1 instead of 2.\n\n7th.\u2014Edge as 1st row *, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3;\n repeat from *, and end with knit 1 instead of 3.\n\n9th.\u2014Edge as 1st row *, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 1; repeat from *, end with knit 2 together, knit 3.\n\n11th.\u2014Edge as 1st row, knit 3 *, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make\n 1, knit 2 together, knit 1; repeat from *.\n\n13th.\u2014Edge as 1st row, knit 4 *, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2\n together, make 1, knit 3; repeat from *, end with knit 1 instead of 3.\n\n15th.\u2014Edge as 1st row *, knit 5, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1; repeat\n from *, end with knit 1.\n\n16th.\u2014Same as 2d row; repeat these 16 rows 7 times more, working 1\n pattern less each repeat, cast off the remaining stitches, and for the\n other side return to the 74 stitches left on the pin, and, commencing\n at the centre, cast off 13 stitches. There will now be 61 stitches on\n left pin, and work thus:\u2014.\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together; repeat 6 times more, then for the edge knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together.\n\n2d.\u2014Pearl all but the last 2 stitches, which are to be pearled together;\n every alternate row is worked the same.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together;\n repeat, end with knit 1 instead of 2 together, edge as the edge 1st\n row.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 2; repeat, end with knit 1 instead of 2, and edge as 1st row.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 4; repeat, and end\n with knit 2 instead of 4; the edge as 1st row.\n\n9th.\u2014Same as 1st row; end with knit 3, knit 2 together, and edge as 1st\n row.\n\n11th.\u2014Same as 3rd row, ending with knit 3, and edge as 1st row.\n\n13th.\u2014Same as 5th; end with knit 2, and edge as 1st row.\n\n15th.\u2014Same as 7th; end with knit 1, and edge as 1st row.\n\n16th.\u2014Same as 2d; repeat these 16 rows 7 times more, working 1 pattern\n less each repeat. Cast off the remaining stitches, then raise 212\n stitches from the neck, knit 2 rows plain, casting on 30 stitches at\n the end of each row.\n\n3d row, make 3 and knit 2 together twice; repeat.\n\n4th row, knit 2, pearl 1, knit 1, pearl 1; repeat, then knit 4 rows\n plain; cast off, and edge with any one of the edgings.\n\n\n\n\n BABY\u2019S CAP.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 12.; Pins No. 21, Bell Gauge.\n Cast on 177 stitches._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Pearl.\n\n2d.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat at the end of the row knit 1 plain.\n\n3d.\u2014Pearl 2, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make\n 1, pearl 1; repeat, and end with 1 plain.\n\n4th.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together;\n repeat, and end with 1 plain.\n\n5th.\u2014Pearl 1, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2\n together; repeat, and end with 1 plain.\n\n6th.\u2014Same as 4th row.\n\n7th.\u2014Pearl 2 together *, make 1, pearl 5, make 1, pearl 3 together;\n repeat from *, and end with pearl 2 together.\n\n8th.\u2014Knit 3, knit 2 together, knit 3; repeat, and end with 1 plain.\n\n9th.\u2014Pearl 2, pearl 2 together, make 3, pearl 2 together, pearl 1;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n10th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 1, pearl 1, knit 2;\n repeat, and end with knit 1. These 10 rows form one pattern; repeat\n for 6 patterns more, then cast on 40 stitches at each end of the pin,\n which make in all 257 stitches; then work 5 patterns as before. For\n the crown, which is to be worked round, divide the stitches on to\n three pins, and knit 3 rounds plain.\n\n4th.\u2014Knit 2 together, knit 8; repeat.\n\n5th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together; repeat.\n\n6th.\u2014Knit 2 together, knit 3; repeat.\n\n7th.\u2014Plain.\n\n8th.\u2014Knit 2 together, knit 4; repeat.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 2 together, knit 4, repeat. There will now be 128 stitches on\n the pin.\n\n10th.\u2014Knit 3 together, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1,\n make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4; repeat.\n\n11th.\u2014Plain; at the end put the last stitch on the 1st pin.\n\n12th.\u2014Knit 3 together, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3,\n make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3; repeat, and put the last\n stitch on the 1st pin.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 3 together, knit 13; repeat, put the last stitch on the 1st\n pin.\n\n14th.\u2014Knit 3 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5,\n make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1; repeat, and put the last\n stitch on the 1st pin.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 3 together, knit 11; repeat.\n\n16th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 2, knit 3 together,\n knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat.\n\n17th.\u2014Plain.\n\n18th.\u2014Same as 17th.\n\n19th.\u2014Knit 5, knit 3 together, knit 4; repeat.\n\n20th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 3 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat.\n\n21st.\u2014Knit 4, knit 3 together, knit 3; repeat.\n\n22d.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1; repeat.\n\n23d.\u2014Plain.\n\n24th.\u2014Knit 3 together, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1; repeat.\n\n25th.\u2014Plain.\n\n26th.\u2014Knit 2, knit 3 together, knit 1; repeat.\n\n27th.\u2014Plain.\n\n28th.\u2014Knit 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n30th.\u2014Knit 2, knit 2 together; repeat and draw up the remaining\n stitches.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n ARABESQUE PATTERN FOR COUVRE PIED, CURTAIN, &c.\n\n _For Couvre Pied, Curtain, use Taylor\u2019s Knitting Cotton, No. 10; Pins\n No. 10, Bell Gauge; or for Anti-Macassar, Taylor\u2019s Mecklenburgh Thread,\n No. 4; Pins No. 14. Cast on 20 stitches for each pattern, and 1 stitch\n over._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1; repeat, and at the end of the row knit 1.\n\n2d.\u2014Pearl.\n\n3d.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make\n 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n4th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3,\n knit 2 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 3 together; repeat from\n *, end with knit 2 together.\n\n6th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n7th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, (knit 2 together twice), make 2, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 1, knit 2 together, make 2, (knit 2 together twice), make 1; repeat,\n at the end knit 1.\n\n8th.\u2014Pearl 5, knit 1, pearl 10, knit 1, pearl 3; repeat, and end with\n pearl 1.\n\n9th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 2,\n knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit\n 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n10th.\u2014Pearl 6, knit 1, pearl 8, knit 1, pearl 4; repeat, and end with\n pearl 1.\n\n11th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, (knit 2 together 3 times), make 2, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 2, (knit 2 together 3 times), make 1; repeat, and end with knit\n 1.\n\n12th.\u2014Same as 10th.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, knit 2 together, make 2,\n knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together,\n knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n14th.\u2014Pearl 7, knit 1, pearl 6, knit 1, pearl 5; repeat, at the end\n pearl 1.\n\n15th.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 4, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 1; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n16th.\u2014Pearl 7, pearl 2 together, make 1, pearl 3, make 1, pearl 2\n together, pearl 6; repeat, and end with pearl 1.\n\n17th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit\n 2; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n18th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n19th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 2, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1,\n knit 7, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3; repeat, and end with\n knit 1.\n\n20th.\u2014Pearl 7, make 1, pearl 2 together, pearl 3, pearl 2 together, make\n 1, pearl 6; repeat, and end with pearl 1.\n\n21st.\u2014Knit 2, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 4, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1; repeat and end with knit 1.\n\n22d.\u2014Pearl 9, make 1, pearl 3 together, make 1, pearl 8; repeat, and end\n with pearl 1.\n\n23d.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 2,\n knit 2 together, knit 5, knit 2 together, make 2, knit 2 together,\n knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n24th.\u2014Same as 10th.\n\n25th\u2014Knit 2 together *, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 2, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 2, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 3 together; repeat from *, and end with knit 2 together.\n\n26th.\u2014Same as 8th.\n\n27th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 2, (knit 2 together\n 3 times), make 1, knit 1, make 1, (knit 2 together 3 times), make 2,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n28th.\u2014Same as 8th.\n\n29th.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 2, knit 2 together,\n knit 3 together, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, knit 2\n together, make 2, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1; repeat, and end\n with knit 1.\n\n30th.\u2014Same as 8th.\n\n31st.\u2014Knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 3, knit 2 together, make 1;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n32d.\u2014Pearl.\n\n33d.\u2014Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit\n 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, knit 2 together, make 1, knit 1;\n repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n34th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n35th.\u2014Knit 3, make 1, knit 3 together, make 1, knit 1, knit 2 together,\n make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3\n together, make 1, knit 2; repeat, and end with knit 1.\n\n36th.\u2014Pearl; commence again at the 1st row, and work 12 patterns in\n depth for each yard.\n\n\n\n\n COLLAR, CABLE PATTERN.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 16; and Pins, No. 21. Cast on\n 50 stitches._\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 7, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 8, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10, make 1, knit 2\n together, knit 1.\n\n2d.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, pearl 9,\n knit 1; repeat once more, then make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, pearl 7, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 5.\n\n3d.\u2014Same as the 1st.\n\n4th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, pearl 9,\n knit 1; repeat once more, then make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make\n 1, knit 2 together, pearl 3; turn back, leaving 12 stitches on the\n left pin.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n5th.\u2014With the pin on which the 12 stitches are left slip 1, knit 4, make\n1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10, make 1,\nknit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 10, make 1, knit\n2 together, knit 1.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, pearl 9,\nknit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, pearl\n4; turn back, leaving 26 stitches.\n\n7th.\u2014Slip 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\ntogether, knit 10, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1.\n\n8th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, pearl 4;\nturn back, leaving 41 stitches.\n\n9th.\u2014Slip 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1.\n\n10th.\u2014Same as the 2d.\n\n11th.\u2014Slip 1, knit 6, make 1, knit 2 together; then with the 3d pin take\noff 3 stitches without knitting them; leave them, and with the right pin\nknit 3 stitches off the left pin, keeping the 3 stitches on the 3d pin\nin front; now knit the 3 stitches that were left on the 3d pin; this\nforms the cable. Knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 2\ntogether, take off 4 without knitting with the 3d pin, as before: leave\nthem, knit 4, then knit the 4 on the 3d pin, knit 2, make 1, knit 2\ntogether, knit 1, make 1, knit 2 together, take off 4, knit 4; then knit\nthe 4 on the 3d pin, knit 2, make 1, knit 2 together, knit 1.\n\n12th.\u2014Same as 2d. This finishes one pattern. Repeat from 1st row 47\npatterns more; cast off.\n\n\n\n\n LACE EDGING.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 10; Pins No. 19. Cast on 8\n stitches for each Pattern, or 482 stitches for a yard._\n\n1st, 2d, and 3d rows.\u2014Plain.\n\n4th.\u2014Knit 2 *, cast off 4 stitches, knit 4; repeat from *, and end with\n knit 2.\n\n5th.\u2014Knit 2 *, take right hand pin in the left hand, and cast on 4\n stitches on it; change the pin to the right hand, and knit 4; repeat\n from *, end with knit 2.\n\n6th, 7th, and 8th.\u2014Plain.\n\n9th.\u2014Same as 4th.\n\n10th.\u2014Knit 2 *, cast on 6 stitches as directed in the 5th row, knit 4;\n repeat from *, end with knit 2.\n\n\n [Illustration]\n\n\n11th and 12th.\u2014Plain.\n\n13th.\u2014Knit 2 together, (make 1, and knit 1 six times), make 1, knit 2\n together; repeat.\n\n14th.\u2014Knit 1 *, knit 13, knit 2 together; repeat from *, and end with\n knit 1.\n\n15th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n16th.\u2014Knit 1, knit 2 together, (make 1, and knit 1 nine times), make 1,\n knit 2 together; repeat, end with knit 1.\n\n17th.\u2014Pearl 2 together *, pearl 19, pearl 3 together; repeat from *, and\n cast off.\n\n\n[Illustration: Decoration]\n\n\n\n\n LACE EDGING.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Crochet or Knitting Thread, No. 12; Pins No. 20.\n Cast on 19 stitches for each Pattern, or 1027 stitches for a yard._\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n1st row.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together; repeat.\n\n2d.\u2014Plain.\n\n3d.\u2014Pearl 2, knit 3 together, knit 11, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1;\n knit 1, repeat.\n\n4th.\u2014Pearl 14, pearl 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n5th.\u2014Pearl 2, knit 3 together, knit 9, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1; repeat.\n\n6th.\u2014Pearl 12, pearl 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n7th.\u2014Pearl 2, knit 3 together, knit 7, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1; repeat.\n\n8th.\u2014Pearl 10, pearl 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n9th.\u2014Pearl 2, knit 3 together, knit 5, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1; repeat.\n\n10th.\u2014Pearl 8, pearl 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n11th.\u2014Pearl 2, knit 3 together, knit 3, make 1, knit 2 together, make 1,\n knit 1; repeat.\n\n12th.\u2014Pearl 6, pearl 2 together, knit 2; repeat.\n\n13th.\u2014Pearl 1, knit 3 together, knit 1, make 1, knit 3, make 1, knit 1;\n repeat.\n\n14th.\u2014Pearl. 15th.\u2014Knit 3 together, make 1, knit 5, make 1, knit 1;\n repeat. 16th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n17th.\u2014Knit 1 *, make 1, knit 7, make 1, knit 2 together; repeat from *,\n end with knit 1.\n\n18th.\u2014Plain.\n\n19th.\u2014Make 1, knit 2 together; repeat.\n\n20th.\u2014Plain, and cast off.\n\n\n\n\n FRINGE FOR ANTI-MACASSAR.\n\n _Taylor\u2019s Mecklenburgh Thread, No. 3, or Knitting Cotton, No. 12; Pins\n No. 19. Cast on 400 stitches for a yard. Cut a portion of the thread in\n pieces of 4 inches in length._\n\n1st row.\u2014Knit 1 *, take 4 pieces of the cut thread and put them on the\n left pin, crossing them so as to bring one end in the front and one at\n the back; then with the right hand pin knit the loop formed by the\n threads, and stitch together; then bring the ends at the back forward\n between the pins, and knit 1 stitch; repeat from * to the end.\n\n2nd and 3d row.\u2014Plain.\n\n4th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n5th.\u2014Plain.\n\n6th.\u2014Make 1, knit 3 with the left pin, turn the 1st of the 3 knitted\n stitches over the other 2; repeat.\n\n7th.\u2014Pearl.\n\n8th and 9th.\u2014Plain, and cast off.\n\n\n\n\n -------------------------------------------\n\n WILKINSON & CO., Printers, 1, Bartlett\u2019s Court, Holborn Hill.\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n Now ready, Price One Shilling,\n\n THE WINTER BOOK.\n\n Beautifully Illustrated, by W. D. Hornsby,\n With new patterns in Crochet, Knitting, and Netting, for Wool, Silk, &c.\n\n ---\n\n By the same Author, Price 1s. each,\n\n THE CROCHET BOOK,\n\n FIRST AND SECOND SERIES,\n Beautifully Illustrated by W. D. Hornsby.\n\n ---\n\n Just Published, price 1s.,\n\n THE CROCHET APPLIQU\u00c9 FLOWER BOOK,\n Illustrated by W. D. Hornsby.\n\n ---\n\n Shortly will be published, with eight beautiful designs, engraved by W.\n D. Hornsby, in large\n 4to, printed in colours, accompanied with descriptive letter-press and\n Instructions,\n\n THE LACET BOOK.\n Price 3s.\n\n LONDON:\n\n SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO.; ACKERMANN AND CO., STRAND;\n OLIVER AND BOYD, EDINBURGH.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n \u25cf Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n \u25cb Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.\n \u25cb In the printed book, the illustrations on pages 1 and 2 were\n reversed. The illustrations are now correctly placed.\n \u25cb The first three lines of instructions under the illustration on\n page 54 were spread out so each is on a separate line.\n \u25cb Typographical errors were silently corrected.\n \u25cb Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only\n when a predominant form was found in this book.\n \u25cb This book uses the abbreviation \u201cM^DLLE\u201d for MADEMOISELLE where a\n caret (^) is followed by superscript characters.\n \u25cb Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Knitting Book, by \nEleonore Riego de la Branchardiere\n\n*** "}