128 Our Chronicle.

hammer, and the quarter-mile race, while tIle two race was undecide d, Mr. Long of Trinity College, Cam�ri and Mr. Laing of Oxford, running a dead heat.

The Officers of the Cricket Club fo r the present season President, Rev. A. F. Tarry, M.A. Fi�'st Captain, F. A. Souper. Second Captain, W. Almaek. 8ecl'etmy, A. C. Skrimshire. PROFESSOR ADAMS' RECENT DISCOVERIES IN Treasurer, W. M. E. Lloyd. A.STRO�OMr.

The following gentlemen have during the present tenll been unanimously elected members of the Stained -. 'Vindow Commi ttee : old rule of tbe Eclitors, the technicalities of science T. Benson. Y an T. de C. O'Grady. B are excluded fr om the pages of tbe Eagle: and if this H. H. Coehrane. W. Lee Warner. article should appear to any of our readers to trench on this H. B. Cotterill. rulc, we must make the importance of the subject, the A fu rther list of subscriptions and donations will next term. be given interest it wil l have to many resident and non-resident 'Ye subscribers, and our peculiar pleasure in the success of are requested to inform those who are about to leave our eminent fel low-collegian, our apologies, if such indeed Cambridge, that it will be a great convenience to the Many, we hope, of the scattered members of Committee, if they be needed. will pay their subscriptions before go down. they our college, as they read this paper, will be pleasantly The vacancy reminded of the hours they have spent on Godfray's Lunar in the edit.orial committee of the commencement Tlte E(/gle, Theory, or Herschel's Astronomy, or Laplace's Exposition of the present term, fo r which three there d'lt System e du JJlonde,. and many more, to whom these candimoon among the stars on a succession of fine evenings, he might suppose that, during the intervals of twenty-foul' hours between his observations, the moon moved over equal distances. A more careful observer would see that this is

VOL. V. K

, 130 Professor Aclams' Recent .Discoveries in As17'ol20my. 131

not quite the case; but that sometimes it moved faster, ravels on in her orbit regardless of the efforts that are being at other times slower. If now his attention were arrested t made to account for her eccentric motions; and if �he is not this irregular motion, and he were accurately to where the mathematicians say she ought to be, either their what the motion of the moon really is at all times, and calculations or the law of gravitation must be wrong. Lunam it in such a manner as to enable him to predict its m quis dicere falsam audeat. and position for the future, and assign it for the p N OIY discrepancies of this kind have several times occurred; would be constructing by observation a Lunar Theory. the importance of Adams's discoveries is well illustrated astronomers before Newton, by means of observation and by some of them. In any single revolution, it may be well made progress in this direction which will always strike t observe, of the moon round the earth, her path will be student of the suhject with admiration and astonishme to ncariy an ellipse; cutting the plane in which the earth moves They discovered that the po�ition and motion of the round the sun, in a line which is called the line of nodes; depended upon the relative position of the sun; and the axis major of which is called the line of perigee and means of expressing this dependence. To show how Dnu apogee, from its passing through the points at which the discovered this, and how they expressed it, would be to moon is respectively nearest to and furthest from the earth. an historical account of the Lunar Theory, which is not But the path is not quite an ellipse; it is distorted by the purpose; it will suffice here if it is understood that t action of the SUll on the moon, and at the end of the month discovered that the distance of the moon in front of, or behi the moon has not exactly returned to the spot where she was the position which it would have occupied had it moved at the beginning. Hence she sets out for the next month uniformly in a circle round the earth, could be represented in a new ellipse differing slightly from the previous one; by adding to and subtracting from that position a long series and the new line of nodes or line of perigee will be in a of small distances, each of which depended ultimately in a different position from the old one; and this is expressed by simple manner on the relative position and distances of the I stating- that the line of nodes advances or is retrograde. Now three bodies, the sun, the earth and the moon. These sma it will be understood that such motions as these admit both distances are called terms, equations, variations, &c. In the of being observed, and of being calculat.ed, on Newton's discovery of the existence, and accurate establishment of the hypothesis; and Newton's hypothesis is tested by its results magnitude of more and more of these small terms, and thereby agreeing with observation. The most famous discrepancy predicting more accurately the moon's position, resides the was iu the motion of the line of perigee. The theory of development of the Lunar Theory. Newton, in his own hands, gave only half the motion actually Newton's hypothesis of the law of gravitation, that all observed. And moreover when the higher calculus was bodies attracted all others with a force proportional to the applied by the skilful hands of Clairaut, it gave the same mass and inversely proportional to the squal/e of the distance, result. Clairaut did not hesitate to suggest that Newton's altered the aspect of the Lunar Theory. If the law were law might be an incomplete and approximative representa­ true, (and the evidence for it was overwhelming,) the motion tion of the law of nature; but he was fortunate enough of the moon might be �educed from this law, by tracing its to discover afterwards that it was his own calculations consequences when apphed to the mutual action of the three which were incomplete and approximative; they were soon bodies: and, conversely, the truth of the law micrht here be . t:>, advanceu to a level with observation; the agreement was su bmltte d'to the most ngorous test. Newton be!2'an this complete, and Newton's law established more securely than great work with unrivalled sagacity, and the great n'l'athema­ ever, �icians of the age ucceeding his, applying � the powerful Once more, the smaller planets J uno and PalIas and lDstrun ent of ana ysls to the problem, r ised � � . � the theory by Vesta were affected with perturbations of unaccountable successIve approxllnatlOn. to an extraordll1ary pitch of per­ magnitude. They seemed from their character to be due to fection. The highest stimulus was given to the observers and Jupiter, but Jupiter's mass was inadequate to produce them. to the mathematicians; any deviation of the observe d place of Bessel suggested that the attraction which Jupiter exercised the moon from the place predicted for her by the mathema­ on them might be not in proportion to his mass, but be ticians, sent them to their work again: the inexo rable moon elective, like magnetic attraction: an extraordinary solution,

lC 2 133 13� ProfeSS01' Adams' Recent Discove1'ies in Ast1·onomy.

date, its hour which has been happily renu.ered unnecessary by A should be valuable for this purpose, its and the discovery that the ln: ass of Jupiter had previously b place of observation are required: and to ascertain these ­ wrongly determined, and that when the right mass req uires often a minute histol'i�al and geographical in vestiga mathematical work. used the disturbances of the little planets were all en tion, besides elaborate So when a discrepancy is found to exist between ca If the place and date are given, and the tables in which are used to calcu­ tion and observation, it has been always the herald of the moon's motion is minutely described, if the tables are discoveries. late the path of the eclipse of that date, the eclipse N oIY when the sol ution of the great problem about in error ever so little they will make the path of moon's motion was first effected, and was awaiting the verd pass not over the gi ven place, and it may thence be calculated motion as given of the future to test its powers of accurate prediction, it w ",hat change must be made in the moon's mean an obvious thought to verify it by an appeal to the past. by the tables, to bring its shallow at that particular date to the shortness of life forbade these early mathematicians that particular place. Such are the two eclipses observed by 977, 978, verify their calculations in future ages; they could at Ibn Junis at Cairo in A.D. and "qure in astronomia shew that the position of the moon at any past epoch lunari," says Mayer, "auro argentoq ue omni pretiosiores, be accurately ascertained. And the accuracy of these meo quidem judicio sunt habendre. tions respecting the past, if I may be allowed the expression And [\�ain, if the place is given, the date is not given could be examined by means of the records of eclip exactly but is known to be within certain limits, even this Would or would not their theory assign such a position to record can be made use of. For it must be recollected that 399, moon on June 21, R.C. that her shadow should be total eclipses of the sun are not common at any assigned spot. 88 has been. seen since A.D. on Rome just before sun-set, and on January 23, A.D. 3, In London, for example, only one that her shadow should be thrown on Antioch ? 1400. If then a calculation from the tables of the moon's RalIey seems to have been the first who considered motion, assuming a certain amount of secular acceleration, is question. With astonishing clearness he seized the made about the eclipses which have been visible at that spot, ditions of this question, saw that the knowledge of it may happen that none took place within the assigned limit elements, on which the solution was to be founded, was of time which was total at that spot, but that there was one yet incomplete, and saw also the probability that, when eclipse which would have been total at that spot if we make assumed acceleration. And thus the accurate knowledge was obtained, it would appear that t a slight change in the was a peculiarity in the moon's motion entirely unforeseen alTlOllnt of the acceleration and the date are simultaneously The degree others, that it was now moving faster, and performing fixed with a certain degree of probability. accuracy revolution in a shorter time than it did in past time. If of this probability depends of course on the previous longitudes of Bag dad,Alltioch, and other plaljeswere accurat of the tables and on the tolerable correctness of the amount known, "I could then ," he says, "pronounce in what of acceleration fil"Et assumed; for if they were far wrong the portion the moon's motion does accelerate; which that it more than one eclipse might be forced into identity with I think I can demonstrate, and shall (God willing) one historical eclipse, by making sllitable hypothetical corrections make it appear to the public." Newton adds to his in the moon's mean motion. And thus the eclipse which edition of the the words, T is said to have predicted was identified by Bailey Principia, "Ralleius noster motum hales 3 medium Lume cum motu diurno und nn, with the one which took place on September 0, terrre collatllm paulatim Oltma 585. accelerari primus omnium quod sciam deprehendit." D.e. 610 ; but by Airy with that of May 28, B.C. This is the first chapter in the History of the discoverv Hence it will be understood: secular acceleration of by observation of the amount of secular acceleration of the (1) That observation indicates a moon's mean motion. The next chapter should contain an the moon's mean motion. account of the detailed examination of all the ancient eclipses, (2) That eclipses fu rnish the means of ascertaining the of and the inferences as to the acceleration finally delluced. amount of the acceleration with a considerable degree The details are however too complicated for introduction accuracy. 3) deduced here: I can only observe that in order that an ancient eclipse ( That the amount of the secular acceleration 134 ProfeSS01' Adams' Recent Disco'Ce-n'es £12 Astronomy. 135 from observation is not less than 10", and the on latest ace's hand may well have trembled as he proceeded with the chronological eclipses f..,apl raise it to 12", and eve m. nearly 13" . n his proble T e diminution of the square of the eccentricity (8'2) Now for a long time h theory was entirely unable to known to for this. between the years 1700 and 1800 A.D, &c. was be It seemed as if the law of gravitation was 015325, and since the mean diminution of gravitation sistent with a secular acceleration, '0000 Euler and term �O x �e'2, it would diminish pledged themselves the 11100n contained the T to this assertion. Laplace of tells us x � x '0000015325 or '00000001284'25 of itself. Now where that he at first Thi thought the motz'on of the moon by affect the 100 x 365 influence which the through x 360 x 60 x 60 sun's attraction exercised thc moon moves nearly I it. But at 27?'j last he discovered the true cause. Some and hence the theoretical diminution of this must be given before seconds in the century; Adams's discovery can apprf'ciated. of the diminution of the mean angular velocity, or the secular motion is equal to � the There is one term in the acceleration of the moon's mean expression for the moon's motio " discovered by observation n product of these two numbers, or a little more than 11 ; by Tycho Brahe, which that indicates very nearly indeed with the observed during half the year the find thus agreed moon is a little ahead of m�an place, and acceleration. during the other half of the year a accorded, behind it. This he called Once more theory and observation completely the annual equation. It shewn by theory to depend and many have been the preans sung on this triumphant on the varying distance of earth and the sun, that is verification of the law of gravitation. Strange indeed that on the eccentricity of the earth's and it depends orbit: the slow and small influence of the planets on the form of the on it in this way. The average a effect during itself in an increased month of the disturbing influence carth's orbit shoulU thus manifest of the sun on the moon is to diminish the gravitation velocity of the moon, and be detected by a study of the of the moon to the earth, so the moon is sustained that ancient records of eclipses. in space, and describes her somewhat orbit, at a reader is in a position to appreciate greater distance, and And now at last the with somewhat less angular velocity than she Adams's discovery. If there had still remained a discrepancy would do if abandoned by average the sun. This it would be easy to anti­ diminution of her gravitation between theory and observation, to the earth is propor­ tional to the mass of the cipate that Adams had reconciled them. He has done no sun, the radius of the moon's and the inverse orbit, such commonplace thing, He has done what is far more cube of the mean distance during the month agrees of the earth from the sun; important; he has shewn that the theory, though it and may be shewn to total gravitation be to her with the observation, is in error. He has shewn that to the earth in the ratio of periodic the squares of the I cannot time of the moon and Laplace overlooked a certain cause of disturbance. earth, or as 1: 1 79 nearly. Now this gave express this in other than mathematical language. Laplace to Laplace the key to the'mystery. inverse The would have no cube of the mean distance assumed that the tangential disturbing force during the month of the earth from the sun involves effect on the mean angular velocity, and took into his the eccentricity (e') of orbit; the earth's disturbing force. But by a and on examination it appeared calculations only the central in fact that in the expression for the mean mc:thod of great intricacy, and one that avoids all possible diminution of gravitation moon of the shewed some years ago that the to the earth there was a term Sources of error, Adams ' �E'2. Now this would alter if e alters; and e' does alter, secular acceleration due to this change of eccentricity of the {n consequence attraction exercised of the eart is only 5"'7. He observed that the diffe­ 011 the earth by the h's orbit m t other planets. Here then igh be the key to the rential equations which implicitly contain the solution of problem which had puzzled the world for nearly a century. the problem of the moon's motion had been integrated on the When' Newton tested, by the �upposition that the eccentricity of the earth's orbit was newly obtained value earth's diameter, his idea of the lllVariable; and that when its slight variation was r'ecognized, that terrestrial gravitation the force that retained miO'ht be and the eccentricity was treated as depending on the time, the moon in its orbit, he beca e so introduced excited, it is said, that he was � �el'lns of a non-periodic or secular character were unable to finish his calculations. lnto the expression for the moon's mean motion which 137 136 Profess01' Adams' Recent Discoveries in Astronomy. move now than it used to do? In the present had been o,'erlooked by all previous does it it did in the advance by 10" 01' 12" more than and whose effect was to reduce the amount of calc I1 tury it wi 11 CC preceding. Or in other words if any one had acceleration from 10" to 5"'7. Then began the fa century to 1700, d the motion of the moon from A.D. 1600 controversy which has occupied so much of the observe he would have then again from A.n. 1700 to 1800, astronomers. At first Adams stood alone, with La and the moon vered that in the second interval of 100 years Damoiseau, Plana and Carlini ranged against him: disco interval by travelled further than it had done in the first only so but his result did not agree with the actual acce had the discovery of tion as inferred from the eclipses, and theirs did. It was e 150th part of her own breadth. And th why she hasadvanced only Adams contra mundum but Adams contra lunam also Adams is, in plain words, that we know breadth, and do not why she has advanced the Soon however Delaunay, the distinguished French "3"hth of her matician, recalculated the term by a fresh method, and his other footh. wonderful that the genius of man result agreed exactly with Adams's. Then Pontecoulaut It is unspeakably that discovered such a fact as this. Wonderful indignantly repudiated these" nouveaux termes," and speaks should have been small amount of acceleration should ever have of Adams' method as "une veritable supercherie analytique." this very have been The contest was becoming exciting; and at this momen discovered: wonderful that its cause should ever t noW the cause has Hansen's tables of the moon appeared in which the coeffi. found; and scarcely less wonderful that that the unaccounted cient was taken at 12", which was found to agree been found to be not quite adequate, and very well should be regarded with observation. Leverrier, on presenting a paper on the for portion of this very small quantity key to the solution of subject to the Academy of Sciences, adds" M. Hansen, dans with such interest, as the possible sa communication de ce jour, demontre nettement et sans problems of cosmical importance. importance of this discovery, in fact, can scarcely replique possible et serieuse qu' avec cette value de 6" on The analysis est absolument over estimated. The resources of mathematical incapable de satisfaire aux observations de la be been taxed lune, et notamment celles as applied to the Lunar and Planetary series have a des eclipses.1f< N ous conservons for calling into donc des doutes et plus que des doutes almost to the utmost. The time is past sur les fOl'mules lurks some cause de M. Delaunay. Tres-certaincment questiou the law of gravitation. There la verite est du cote de per century. It is M. unexplained accderation of 6".45 Hansen." for the cause is Adams that the action of this unknown During all this time Adams maintained a dignified due to of silence. His reasoning had been published. The ques­ known. Once before the unexplained perturbations Neptune; he has now tion is purely a mathematical one in fact, and soon fresh U ranus led him to the discovery of to seek for the unknown cause of the remainder mathematicians entered the lists. Plana, Main, the late set the world be easy secular acceleration of the moon. It would Sir John Lubbock, and Professor Cayley, have in succession of this the search grappled with the formiclahle difficulties of the analytical to from the history of the sciences how illustrate led to novel question, and the coefficient when calculated to an extraor­ for the causes of residual effects has always dinary degree of accuracy, retaining even terms of the and important truths. are we to look for the cause? It may eighth order, is decided unanimously to be 6"'11. This To what source in spite the secular be t perhaps to the direct actions of the planets then is the amount of acceleration produced raced reconsideration in the moon's mean motion by the perturbing action of the of Euler's dictum. It will probably bring into The supposition that this is planets on the eccentricity of the earth's orbit. the action of gravitation. to is profoundly difficult. It will be well Let us pause for one moment to reflect on the minuteness instantaneous of of the discovery. c the effect of a progressive transmission It has been discovered that the moon's alculate what and of motion is being accelerated; that it is travelling faster during gravity would be on the mean motion of the moon, the present century than during the past century; and that her nodes and perigee. in an appendix it will continue to travel faster and faster. How much faster Laplace shewed, if I remember right, velocity must be at least to his M ecanique Celeste, that this as that of light: but this result was '" This has been verified by M. Marth. 8,000,000 times as great 39 138 Pl'OfesS01' Adams' Recent Discovel'ies in Astronomy. 1

quantity, though extremely small, based on the hypothesis that there was no acceleration r(lbably a measuraule p " is not a very the moon's mean motion unaccounted for; and the indeed he has shewn that 164 per century and must therefore be reopened. ble value. improba will lead, we hope, to a Another possible cause is the existence of a So this discovery of Adams of that most difficult of subjects, the ether through which the earth and moon move. Laplace, enewed investigation r And if another appendix, was led to deny its existence because Here theory lags far behind observation. tides. of the earth's rotation be established, it is calculations for the accelerations of the moon, and the I this retardation on some of' the inferences and speculations of perigee and nodes gave the numbers 11", -37", 7" \V curious to speculate ust follow. The year ought to seem to shorten agreed so well with observations; and a resisting ether wo that m inferences may be made as to the alter these proportions, because, as he there shelVed, it pr(lportionally; an� . . bulk on the meteol'lC theory. And If accelerate the moon's mean angular motion, but not increase of the sun s in Its rotation, the last stronghold the lines of perigee or nodes. It remains to be exaOlin the earth is being retarded of our solar system will whether his calculations of the accelerations of the lines of the doctrine of the unalterability to conceive, amid a perigee and nodes are equally vitiated by his erro be taken. It taxed the imagination ruling over all other method of treatment; and to examine whether the true val system of perpetual orderly change to age rotating for these derived from this cause agree with the obse""�.1; motions, thab the earth should go on from age sameness that seems, values. If they do, and so far as they do, while in one ever invariable period. It is a very slow retarda­ acceleration of the moon does not, it will furnish obvi( to conflict with the variety arollnd it. A not yet know, and the a most important argument in favour of the existence of a tion is going on, how slow we do tend constantly resisting ether. same causes that are now in operation will long as our A third cause may be detected: it is possible that in the same direction, till our day becomes as probable earth's period of rotation is diminishing. Laplace has sta month. It is impossible not to see in this a periods of indeed, that it cannot have altered by the hundredth explanation of the strange coincidence in the once tides, a second since the time of Hipparchus; but this rotation and revolution of the moon. H ad she If she dictum rests, it will be seen, on the supposition, either when fluid, or in her now invisible oceans? would have disproved, that there is no unaccounted for acceleration had, their retarding influence, mighty as they and her own the moon's mean motion, and with it the above falls to been, from the size and proximity of the earth, or increased her ground. Now it is obvious that if t he day were becom small mass, would have gradually rednced longer, other motions referred to it, while they remain period of rotation till it coincided with her period of revolu­ actually the same, would seem to be becoming faster. Hence tion round the earth. moon is not the. moon may only seem to be moving faster, because our And if the movement of rotation of the will day is longer, and the unexplained secular lacceleration of accelerated pari passu with its movement of rotation, " the earth 6 be an apparent acceleration only. Newton had this in not the moon in some far distant age present to familiar? view in writing above" cum motu diurno 'ferrce collatum." another face fro111 that with which we are so " with certainty. If our century were longer by 271 x 6 or 164", we should Perhaps it will be impossihle to predict this un touched, first discover it by this amount of apparent acceleration of Laplace has not left even this speculation quite the moon. Delaunay has already investigated this question and has assigned reasons for believing that the acceleration rotation mathematically. It had indeed before been pointed out by of revolution· will be propagated into the motion of Mayer that the law of C onservation of Force, a law that nOlv of the moon. . further dominates over all phYSIcal resea rch, shewed that the action We have run on unwittingly into speculations of Adams of the tides necessarily retarded the earth's rotation. The !han we intended: but in truth this discovery study and tides do work on the earth, and this work must be �t tIle IS, pregnant with the materials for speculation and to expense of some other form of vis viva, a11(1 that can be nOlle dIscovery. And while we thus raise our humble voices fellow other than the vis viva of rotation of the earth. But Congratulate our great Cambridge Professor and in the Delaunay has been the first to shew that this retardation is collegian on his discovery, unparalleled in its kind 140 Joy and Sonow.

past history of science, we value it mainly as opening the to fresh discoveries in the laws of the universe. �f.'%�m�'�' , it' • . regretted that the e was . l\I.w;. , .:::.�. , r but one universe, and Newton � discovered its laws. Some of our mathematicians have dOll less regretted that there could be but one .M ecanique and Laplace had written it. But now Adams has shewn there is something yet unknown where all was sup known; and has made it possible for some other name be enrolled in the brilliant list of discoverers in Astrono Let us indulge a hope that THE MAN IN GRAY. this honour too will be won an Englis hman, a Cambridge man, and a Johnian.

'I: '* 'I: TIlE little town of Aston was in a fever of excitement. For the good people of Aston, feeling the full force of their great poet's adage, that

" Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do,"

determined not to give the old gentleman a chance against themselves, but to keep their hands fully employed-with other people's business. And so it came to pass that when Toddy, the landlady of the Aston Arms, received JOY AND SORROW. I Mrs. a letter desiring her to prepare a bed for "hers truly, Ruff'e Ryder, S.G.", the inhabitants of Aston rose as one man to settle the matter entirely to their own and Mrs. Toddy's WHAT is sorrow but a spring, n satisfaction. Not that there was anything out of the way Ever flowi g, evel' full ? n in anybody taking up his quarters at the hotel in Aston; for Joys are transient, a d can fling, Aston, being one of those central country towns in a hunting O'er its waters deep and dull, district, received many passing visits from strangers; but But a ray that serves to shew there was a mystery about the et ers S.G., after Mr. Ryder's The depth and darkness of the woe. l t name, which every Astonian felt in duty bound to clear up to Joy may like a bubble rise, the best of his ability. To be sure, old Admiral Pigsed told From the ehilly depths below, it only meant silly goose, like themselves, and asked ( them But too soon it breaks and flies, what on earth it mattered to anybody else who he was, as long While the gl oomy waters flow as he behaved himself whilst he was at Aston, and paid his On for ever, and they seem, hotel bill when he went away? But no one minded what But the darker for the gleam. that old seabear said. So it was setded that Mr. Ryder must be a somebody, (or why should he have any letters after his Sorrow's springs will never d,-y, name?) and must be treated accordingly. It was even sug­ Joy is but a shallow stream, n gested that a deputation of influential townsmen should be Glist' ing if the sun be high, s Bright while ent to present an address to him on his arrival at the station, waning 'neath its beam. Joy is of to-day, but sorrow and Mr. Oxide the chemist was mentioned as the fittest person to read it, for he had once been at a school they Like a cloud o' ereasts the morrow. where taught Latin, and still retained enough of that language to be E. able to read the names of the drugs on the drawers in his 142 143 TIl e J.1 Ia n in Gmy. Th e Man in Gmy.

shop. But this idea was afte rwards dropped. came with several others from one of the copy books in It time Mrs. Toddy got all things ready f Ol' the arrival of vhich Mrs. Toddy learnt to write, C" practised caligraphy," illustrious strano-er, fo r as she said to Mrs. Peepaskew \e would have sai d,) at the g enteel seminary. Miss Smilkin postmistress wh� brought her Mr. Ryder's letter, " �vas as good as her word, and introduced Mr. Ryder into the know, my dear, he'll have to pay Aston society. He was visited and fe asted and enter­ fo r it all, whoever he is, tip top we may as well have the best room ready fo r him, in case tained in every possible way. And all the young and middle should tUl'll out to be a prince in disguise." You see artcd ladies assiduously set their caps at him. For though 'l' oddy's ideas were rather romantic, but her imagination r�ther un polished, or a little negligee as they termed it, yet been early cultivated at a genteel school, where they he was a g:>od enough looking young fellow. And as Miss extras. So after arriving at such a satisfactory concl Sl11ilkin said in a mysterious manner that he was "a bon these two . good ladies assurhed an air of the utmost prwti, and had evidently moyed in the highest circles," it was tance whenever the strange gentleman's name was men obviousl y the thing to do to try and secure him to Aston fo r in their presence. For wasn't Ruffe Ryder, Esq., S.G., cyer. With the men he was a particular favourite, as he to take up Ilis abode with Mrs. Toddy ? Anti hadn't abounded in "tips " about the coming races, and was a very Peepaskew carried the letter announcing his intention fair hand at billiards. But still the mystery of the letters the Aston Arms with her own hands, and been present S.G. was not cleared up, and many and various were the it was read ? theories current about them. Old General Tellagoodun said On the day fixed fo r his arrival, there was quite a he r e membered him well in the ·Peninsula, where he had at the railway station, every one intent on getting the beld a high rank in the Spanish Army, and that S.G. meant peep at the mysterious stranger. 'Vhen the train drew Sa nctissimo Generalissimo, a title of honour conferred only at the platform, ou e t got a short man ill gray leading a on the most distinguished officers. As th General was very dog by a chain. As , he was the only passenger. there con rich gave good dinners, and had no relations, this explana­ be no doubt I that he was the " long expected one," especial tion was the generally received one in Aston. To be sure, as he personally superintended the transference of two port­ Admiral Pigsed, when he heard it, observed in a voice like an manteaus, each marked R.R., from the luggage van to the Armstrong gun with a quinsy, that if that were the case, Mr. of a cab. He seemed at first rather taken aback at findi Ryder must have worn uncommonly well, as he didn't look himself the obje ct of such general attention, and seeing above thirty. But nobody cared fo r what the Admiral said, Miss Smilkin gazing fixedl y at him, he mechanically rais as he made a point of always differing from the General on his hat to her, and then jumping into the cab was soon 1 every subject, and had nothing besides his half pay. So to the sight of the wondering Astonians. "Avery well­ Mr. Ryder continued to live on the fat of the land. gentlemanly young man," said Miss Smilkin drawing her­ One day the General gave a grand dinner party, and of se lf up. She evidently thought our hero had recognised her coune Mr. Ryder was there. After the ladies had left the high birth in the contour r of her bony nose, and the se�of her .oom, and the gentlem en were beginning to grow confidential, undeceptive fa lse front. "He must be made much of," httle Mr. Chirp the attorney sidled up to our hero and said, continued the lady. And as her maternal aunt's grandfather " do pray, my dear sir, tell me what is the meaning G: those had married into Sir Newgate Ketche's fa mily, who w as letters that every one is talking about." himself fo urth cousin to the great Lord Cab'aft of Hemptie, " vVhat letters ?" said Mr. Ryder, taking a huge bite out Miss Smilkin was natur ally looked to as the setter of fa shion of an orange and letting the juice run down his chin. at Astoll, particularly in the matter of settling 'who was to be "vVhy that mysterious S.G.," answered Mr. Chirp. called on by those who wished to be considered as "society." "S.G.?" said his fr iend wiping his mouth with the back "He only came second class !" said Mrs. Peepaskew in of his hand, "0, it only means stud groom. I am Lord an injured tone to Mr s. Toddy. "So he did, my dear," Epsom's stud groom, and I have j llst come down here to look answered that lady, "but then you know the truly great are alter a horse he has training fo r the Derby"-- ever the ostentatious." least This was a sentiment ·Mrs. o dear ! what a commotion there was in Aston after this ! Toddy was very fo nd of airing on every possible occasion. l<:very one suddenly remembered he had often noticed how 144 Th e Ma n in Gray. that man smelt of the stables, and ate with his knife. peculiarities explained at the time as being eccentricities the aristocracy, but now-- ! It was a sad come down our hero though. Intitead of the smiles and bows that to greet him at every turn, he now only met noses so turned up that he began to fE' ar they would stay like his bull dog's. The only person who thorough the o j ke was Admiral Pigsed, who roared and chuc turned ADONIDIS EPITAPHlUM. so purple in the face that his heir-at-Iaw began to anxiously fo From BION (Id. I.). r an apoplexy. But it didn't come, and Admiral lived long enough to clnjoy many a hearty laugh his old fo e the General. As fo r poor Miss Smilkin, she to go away for a I WAIL the fa ir Adonis-he is dead, month to the sea side, she was so upset ! Dead fa ir Adonis 1 with me wail the Loves. E. No longer, Cypris, sleep on purple trains : Rise wretched sable-stoled, and beat thy breasts, And tell to all that fa ir Adon is dead. I wail Adonis ; with me wail the Loves. The fa ir Adonis on the mountain lies, His white white flank gashed by a whi.ter tooth, And grieveth Cypris fa inting out his soul ; And o'er his snow-white flesh weeps down black blood And underneath his brow his eyes are glazed, And his lip's rose is gone ; and e'en the kiss That Cypris ne'er will leave, dies out on it, Him, though he lives not, Cypris loves to kiss, But he knows not who kissed him in his death. I wail Adonis ; with me wail the Loves. A cruel cruel wound has trench'd his groin ; A deeper heart-wound Cytherea bears. For him, that boy, his dogs howl'd fo rth lament, �$..M � :rJ.i l Ceaseless lament : him weep the Oread nymphs. �;h��'«t But Aphrodite with her tresses loos'd Roams sad, unkempt, unsandaled, through the brakes, And as she walks the briars tearing her , Drink in her sacred blood ; but she goes on Through valleys long with her shrill sad laments, Calling her boy, her dear Assyrian spouse. But round him by his navel gushed dark blood, His breast dyed scarlet fr om his wounded thigh, His bosom erst snow-white was purple-stained. " Ah Cytherea 1" with me wail the Loves. She lost with her fair lord her fo rm divine, For while Adonis lived her form was fair, But ah 1 her beauty with Adonis died. Alas for Aphrodite, say the hills ; " Alas Adonis 1" is the oaks' response,

VOL. V. L 147 146 Adoniclis Ep itapMum. Aclonidis Ep itaphium.

The rivers weep fo r Aphrodite's woes, Chaplets on him and flowers ; all with him, The fountains mourn Adonis on the hills, As he died so did all the flowers fade, The flowers with grief are pnl'pled ; dirgcs sad Rain myrtles on and unguents, rain perfumes : Swell through Cythem's groves, through all her glades. Perish all perfumes! thine Adon is gone, Ah Cytherea, fair Adon is dead ; On purple vestments daintily 11e lies, And echo answered " fa ir Adon is dead," And round him weeping wail aloud the Loves ; Who had not wept for Cypris' mighty love ? Their locks are for Adonis shorn ; and one Ah ! when she saw Adonis' stanch less wound, His bow, another brings his arrows ; this When she perceived it, when she saw his blood His well-winged quiver ; this one looses off All purple-hued upon his failin'g flank ; Adonis' sandal ; this in golden urns UnfolJing wide her arms she made her plaint : Brings water : and another laves his side ; "Stay, stay, Adonis, luckless Adpn stay ! This fans Adonis with his wings b ehind. " That I may meet thee for the last last time, For Cytherea's self the Loves lament, " That I may clasp thee and join lips with lips. On ev'ry door-post Hymen quenched his torch " Adonis, wake a little, kiss thy last, And scattered to the winds his mal'l'iage wreath. " Kiss me so long but as a kiss may live, No longer " Hymen, Hymen" is the song ; " Till from thy soul into my mouth and heart "Alas, Alas" is chanted, and yet more " Thy spirit ebb, and I thy sweet charm draw " Ah for Adonis" than the Hymen song, " And drain thy love ; this kiss I'll sacred keep The Graces mourn the son of Cinyras, "As Adon's self ; since thou, ill-starr'd one fliest, Telling each other " fair Adon is dead," "Thou fliest far and com'st to Acheron And shriller far than thou, Dione, mourn. " And its grim dreadful king : but J, alas, The muses also for Adonis weep "Live, am immortal, cannot follow thee. And call upon him, but he heeds th em not, "Receive, Persephone, receive my lord, Not but that he is willing; Pl'oserpine "For thou art much more mighty : all that's fa ir Will not release him.-Cytherea cease, " To thy lot falls, but I am all accurst, Cease thy laments, to day thy woes refrain, " Accurst and suffer woe insatiable, Another year thou must lament again. " And my dead Adonis, fearing wail thee, p.t;. "Diest thou thrice-yearn'd for ? my love-dream is gone "And Cytherea's widow'd ; through the halls " The vain Loves flit; with thee my charms are gone. " Why huntest, bold one ? Thou, who wast so fair "Wert mad enough to combat with the beasts ? Thus moaned Cypris ; with her wail the Loves, Ah Cytherea ! fair Adon is dead. As much in tears sheds Paphia, as in blood Adonis : on the earth from both spring flowers, From blood the rose, f!'Om tears th' anemone. I wail the fa ir Adonis-he is dead. No more in thickets, Cypris, wail thy lord, Not for Adonis is the leafy bed, Let dead Adonis rcst upon thy couch, The dead Adonis, beautiful in death, In death, yet beautiful as though he slept. On soft robes lay him where he went to sleep, On which with thee he used to pass the night In holy slumber on a couch all gold : There mourn Adonis, though sad-visaged strew

L2 L-= ...... ------�

Recollections of a Ch n'stmas at Rome. 149

was not without some secret satisfaction that I, for one, fo und berths on board the Civita Vecchia that all the steamer were engaged. All that we were anxious fo r was to reach Rome : bcfole Christmas eve, and this, we fo und, could be done by taking the land route to Genoa, and the coasting steamer fr om L that port to eghorn and Civita Vecchia. This plan enabled us further to see Marseilles, Nice, and Genoa, and part of the famous Corniche road. RECOLLECTIONS OF A CHRISTMAS AT ROME. There are fe w views prettier than that of Marseilles CA Lecture.) harbour. On a rising ground a little outside the town towards the sea, is a church dedicated to Our Lady of the Guard, the patroness of the Marseillais sailor. Hither his

NOTE. The following was delivered as one of a Parochial Course wife, his sister, or his sweetheart come with offerings and Lectures in one of the suburbs of Manchester, and its character · prayers fo r his return ; hither he himself, if he has any of course determined by the character of the audience. Had devotion in him, comes offer thanks for his safe arrival in lecturer been writing for classical students, he might have taken other branches of the subject, but he ventures to hope that tl port. But the chief attraction of the place to the traveller more genel'al reminiscences may pl'ove interesting at any rate to is the view that it commands of harbour and bay, and non-classical subscribers to The Eagle. town. Look to seaward, and you have the blue waters of N OT very long ago, an American took passage in one the Mediterranean gently washing the curving line of the Messageries' steamers fr om Marseilles, to Alexand coast., or fretting the rising cliffs, and dotted over with three The steamer called at Civita Vecchia to take in cargo, and, or fo ul' islands, one of them crowned by a dismal castle, usual, remained there for the greater part of the day. N another by a long low white building that glistens in the sun. Civita Vecchia is not the most amusing place in the rf he castle is the prison, fa med wherever Monte Christo's It is a small seaside town, hardly more indeed than a name is known, the Chateau d' If; the low white building and not a fashionable watering place. The only eXClLtml\::JJ� is a prison hardly less dismal, though the confinement in it is which the place knows is caused by the arrival of the reckoned by days and not by years : it is the house of and by the daily manceuvres of the garrison. The form quarantine. Look to landward, and far away up to the low course, was over, and the latter do not last fo r ever, and if hills, which, like an amphitheatre, surround the place, the did, would becometedious after half an hour. So our whole space is dotted over with substantial villas, rising fr om being moreover one of those thorough travellers, who n amid gardens and vineyards. At your fe et lies the town lose a chance of seeing what comes in their way, went to thronged with a busy swarm of workers, or, if it be a summer's Railway station, and finding a train just starting took a evening, of happy fa milies enjoying the air after a hard day's fo r Rome. When he reached the city he work. Everywhere signs of prosperity. We were fo rtunate called the, vetturino that he saw, and said to him-" I've got just enough to reach the top of the hill just as the sun was minutes before my train goes back, and you must shew sinking into the sea, an orb of burning gold. It was all that Rome." Not a very easy task you will all admit ; yet it is was required to complete the beauty of the scene. task which I have before me to night. Nay, I may But I must not stop to tell you of the haps and mishaps even a more difficult one-fo r the cabman was only expe<;LO... . of the way-how the door of the diligence would By open to show the outside of Rome-while T, if this as we were just dropping off to sleep-how we had to turn interest you, must show you something also of the out at 1 o'clock in the morning fo r "the custom-house t heir character, and their customs. With such a task gentlemen," and at 4 " because the bridge is broken down"­ me, I may fairly ask every indulgence at your hands. how we got to Genoa at 3 o'clock the next moming after On the 19th of December, 1864, I found myself with thirty hours of diligence-how We admired the filagree-work three companions at the office of the Messageries Imperiales and the ladies of Genoa-how we resolved not to be cheated I1t Marseilles. The weather was not very calm, so that it of our breakfast on board the steamer at Leghorn, and in J

150 Recollections of a Ghr£ stmas at Borne. Becollectio1lS of a Cltristmas at Rome. 15l

consequence, missed the train to Pisa-how all the bon 111e systematic arrangement. First in order of time during in the 0 place could not make it endurable-how we :11Y visit came churches and church ceremonies. Let me say vainly to amuse ourselves fo r one half hour by a visit at starting that I went to Rome fo r its antiquities and its art, barber's, two of our number to be operated upon, the d that consequently, I did not give so much time to Papal two to look on-how an we, the lookers on, came to the Borne, as I should have done had my visit been longer. elusion that being shaved with a blunt razor and cold What I did see I will tell you. Luther, I imagine. is not may be amusing to the spectators, but does not tend the only visitor of Rome whose simple-hearted piety has smooth either the chins or the tempers of the patients : all been shocked by the carelessness, the irreligion, the im­ is written in the diaries of the company, but can only be hin morality which he has seen there. I am not what is called at here. Let me land you and our party at Civita Vecc an ultra-Protestant. I have seen more than once, earnest, It was the boast of the old Romans that every road simple devotion, and attentive worship in Romish churches, Rome. There is now one way by which every trav and that even in Italy ; I have known Swiss guides who have must pass. The ancient dramatists of Ro me would refused to start on expeditions till they hau been to early called it the Via Nu mmaria, the Money-way. The pontifi mass : but nothing of this did I see in Rome. Fat, over-fed government is not so unreservedly attached to the priests: dirty Capucin monks in their gowns of brown serge, of St. Peter as to neglect those of St. Matthew. The ad changed once in three years, men, many of them, whose faces tures of a passport fo r and in the Papal States, might, in would hang them, as the saying is, met one at every turn. hands, make a little book. Firstly, you must obtain the I cannot but think that a great part of this is due simply to of the Apostolic Nuncio at Paris-fe e. Secondly, when the continuance of the temporal power of the Pope. When reach Civita Vecchia, your passport is given up ; if Victor Emmanuel gets to Rome there will be no doubt a en regle you receive a permission to land, and your pa grand clearance. stamped again is returned-fe e. Thirdly, when you We reached Rome on Christmas eve, and at 8 o'clock leave Rome, you require the visa of the British Consul, presented ourselves in full evening dress at the door of the the permission of the police to depart-fe e. Fourthly, Sistine Chapel in the Vatican. This is another of the results permission is again examined and registered at the Stati of the temporal power. 'Wherever the Pope is expected to Fif thly, it is confirmed at the fr ontier-fe e. Sixthly, if be present, even if it be in church, every one must appear in return even the next day the same process mllst be conrt dress ; the ladies, in black silk, with black fans, black through, and the same fees paid ; whereas in other coun gloves, and black lace veils worn mantilla-wise : and the even in Austria, a visa once given is good fo J' a year. gentlemen in ordinary evening costume. At Christma& From Civita Vecchia a couple of hours of a very there is not a very great pressure of visitors, so we obtained railway brought us to the yellow Tiber and the etemul ci admission without any difficulty. The next half-hour was The first sight of it is disappointing. You must spend spent, as at a concert, in watchiug the arrivals. The time there before you get thoroughly to love the place, Pope was not present, but there was a fair muster of Cardinals is one of those coy beauties that reg uire a long acq uaintan and Monsignori, each accompanied by his secretary, whose before you can appreciate and analyse their charms. It is chief work seemed to be to act as lady's maid, and let down not hard to see why. The antique is veiled under a modern Monsignor'S robes which had been tucked up out of the way, covering, and judged as a modem city, Rome is a long �nd then to hold his missal till such time as he should require in arrears of civilisation. The streets are narrow, the shops It. Then snuff-boxes were pulled out, and Cardinal chatted oor ; sanitary laws p are entirely set at defiance. Indeed it with brother Cardinal, and Secretary with Secretary, till would seem as if man had done his best to aid, instead of service began, and even af�er. One man, however, was an ex­ counteracting the natural unhealthiness of the site. To one ception to this rule. This was Cardinal Antonelli, the Pope's who fresh from Paris, is or Marseilles, or Turin, the contrast prime minister, whose name is a byword fo r crafty diplomacy. striking is too to leave a good impression. At half-past eight the service be�n. For more than But I must reme mlrer that if our friend the vetturino was an hour and a half it consisted of psalms sung to the most show e fift to Rom ill y minutes, he would be obliged to use monotonous of Gregorian chants, alternating with short 153 152 Recollections of a Olwistmas at Rome. Recollections of a Ohristmas at Rome.

lessons intoned on a peculiar cadence, the music of J11iuated by the facade which is seen in all views of the church. any one who is curious, may find in Mendelssohn's rrhis alteration, while it entirely mars the symmetry of the Then came the mass itself, one of the most florid spe e:xterior, throwing the dome so far back fr om the front, that of the modern soulless style of Italian music. All this the latter hides it and prevents your realising its height, adds we were standing, and tired enough I assure you. at the same time to the grandeur of the interior. The high half past ten I quietly withdrew, quite satiated with altar is at the centre of the cross, nnder the dome, and the I had seen and heard. effe ct of the lengthening of the eastern arm is that the We were not much more successful in our next minister, officiating at the high altar, while his back is turned We were informed by our guide-books that there upon the congregation in the choir, faces the crowd in the solemn military mass, with fine music, at eleven at the c nave. The crowd on this occasion was not great, but suffi­ of St. Louis, patron saint of the French. Thither we cient to line thickly the way which was kept clear down the and fo und ourselves in a moderate sized church, pretty middle of the nave. The transepts were almost clear of filled. At the altar was a splendid trophy, one of the people. As we came up the nave we could see over the successful pieces of decoration I have ever seen. It altar a kindly, benevolent fa ce, and could hear at times a composed chiefly of lustres of glass, and lit up by silvery voice fe eble but clear. We had taken the precaution hundr eds of candles of different sizes arranged like the pi to come in full dress, and so by the courtesy of an officer of upon an organ. The priest's part of the service was the pontifical guard, obtained admission to the choir which audible, the rest only too much so. Murray's fo rms the western arm of the cross. At the eastern end, as I seemed a mere travestie. The " solemnity" was shown have said, is the altar, and at the western was a raised dais, constant succession of visitors coming in and out, occ supporting the pontifical throne. In front of us were the chairs fo r a quarter of an hour, and then cardinals, and behind them some distinguished visitors ; oppo­ military were represented by some half score French so site were the ex-king and queen of Naples, and several dig­ scattered about-but only as private worshippers ; the nitaries in uniform. At our right was a raised gallery, music was produced by a choir singing out of tune, each occupied by ladies, who here sit apart. his own time, and an organist whose sole object seemed to The music was very good : the two choirs and two organs, to insert a fine fioritura in each verse of the chant with north and south, keeping up the song uninterruptedly. The any regard to the existence of such things as bars in men's soprano voices, which the night before in the small and who consequently in the second half of every verse chapel of the Vatican had appeared to us even disagreeable, a bout a couple of bars behind the last of the choir. lost all their harshness, as their notes rolled up the vast dome. The next event on the programme was a mass, with And after the consecration of the host, a strain of sweetest Shepherd's Hymn, in St. Peter's, at 3 o'clock on Chris music, such as one would think none but angel's trumpets morning. I have often regretted that I did not go to it. could produce, came floating down upon the ear. Never but is performed in a side chapel of St. Peter's, the rest of once have I heard sounds so etherial, so heavenly, and those church not being lighted up. The effect must be very pecn were produced by no human voice or instrument, but by if the music N is good. But I was so disgusted with th ature's echoes that took each note and purged it of all alloy, experienoes evening, of the that I did not fe el inclined to gi leaving only the pure melody. The music of St. Peter's is up a good night's rest fo r it. produced by silver trumpets, aided of course by the con­ Next morning, profiting by our exp81'iences of the Sistine struction of the building, but where they are, the ear . can the night before, we did not appear at St. Peter's till scarcely discern. All that you fe el is that such strains must o'clock, 9. 11 the service beginning at The Pope was and do come fr om heaven. officiating at the high altar. Here I must say a word about This over, the Pope proceeded, bearing the Host, to his the churoh. The original plan, Michael Ancrelo's, crave it throne at the other end of the choir. There the consecrated the shape of a Greek cross, that O is, a cross with arms o equal wafer was distributed to a number of the diplomatic corps, length, directed to the f an fo ur points of the compass. This plan d the whole service concluded by the chairing, if I may was afterwards enlarged, so the Eastern arm prolonged and t er- call it, of his Holiness. He was carried on a chair of state 154 RecollecHons of a Cllristmas at Rome. Recollection.s of a Christmas at Rome. 155

above the heads of the people, wearing the triple cro bepherds or the eastern kings offering their gifts. Of course which is far less ugly by the way than it is generally �hat at the Ara Creli is one of the most sumptuous. The out to be, and bestowing his benediction upon the ]3ambino and the Virgin are covered with diamonds and other The cardinals , monsignori, , and poor St. J oseph is the only one who seems to need bishops, &c., lead the proceSSIon jewels which il goes down the nave and out by the door the g-ifts which the magi bring. Against one of the p1llars municates with the Vatican, where it is to be hoped on the other side of the church a small stage is erected, and Holy Father enjoys his Christmas dinner after the fr om this little children, chiefly girls, recite, with all an four hours' fast. Italian's action, short speeches or dialogues in explanation of It would be impossible for me to say much of the the scene. There is something trivial about it, something of in Rome: their name is Legion, and there are very few childish vanity, and yet something grand,-the tale that can them which do not contain some object of interest, artistic come from the mouth of babes has borne the palm from the otherwise. But there are two or three, which may cl eloq uence of this world. notice in particular. First among these is the church of Attached to the Ara Creli is a Franciscan convent. I Ara Creli or altar of Heaven. It stands on the site of the will next ask you to accompany me to the church and temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, t.he supreme god of convent of Santa Maria dei Capuccini, the head-quarters Rome. All around breathes of Rome in its highest of the order. It contains one or two fine paintings, but Hard by is the temple of Concord where the Senate its chief attraction is a strange charnel-house, which is liberated, where Cicero spoke, where Cresm' sat-below is the attached to it. Passing through a court-yard, in which groups Forum, the scene of so many struggles for liberty-the temple of French soldiers are standing a bout, we are admitted by a low itself was the goal to which Rome's victorious generals in" door to the crypt. It consists of four vaulted chambers, the floor triumphal pomp directed their way. Now the only proceo-' of which is covered for some depth with soil brought from the sions are those of monks and priests-now another Cresar, 0 Holy Land, which has the peculiar property (so they tell of that nation whom J ulius in part subdued, lays down laws you) of sweetening decay. The interior of each vault for Rome-now Rome's manly eloquence is hushed. He contains a number of graves, while at intervals along the must be insensible indeed who could fa il to be struck by and walls are reared the skeletons of monks departed, all clad to meditate upon such a contrast. To such impressions, to in their monastic robes. The walls and. roofs are covered such meditations we owe one of the grandest works in our own with human bones, arranged in fantastic patterns or piled in or in any language, Gibbon's " Decline and Fall." orderly heaps. The effect is peculiar, and there is nothing, This church of the Ara Creli owns a miraculous Bambino, save the grim skeletons in their brown serge gowns, to make it or image of the infant Saviour, a wooden doll carved, as the ghastly. Whenever a member of the convent dies, he is legend says, by a Franciscan pilgrim from a tree on the Mount buried here in his brown frock without a coffin. The oldest of Olives, and painted by St. Luke while the pilgrim slept occupant of the graves is removed'to make place for him, and (nothing like a good anachronism !) This doll has perhaps takes his place, for he is by this time reduced to bone and the best medical practice in Rome ; in all serious cases be is fibre, among the skeletons on the wall : there he remains till called in, and a cure not unfrequently fo llows his visits, fibre too decays, and then his bones are added to the heap. "b ut," suggests Mr. Story in his interesting book Roba di These Capucins are, if I may use a rather slang word, one Roma, "as the regular of the physicians always cease their , institutions of Rome. They swarm in the place. They attendance upon his entrance, and blood-letting and calomel h.ve entirely upon alms, and it is no unfrequent thing for a v are consequently iutermitted, perhaps the cure is not so lsitor to be startled by hearing an alms-box rattled in his e miraculous as it might at first seem," This it is which is ar, and on looking round. to see a dirty but goodnatured carried in the processions that have taken the place of the old face or sometimes a rascally sensual looking piece of humanity, Roman triumphs. Now let us look at the substitute for their offering his own and his fellows' necessities to your charitable manly eloquence. It is a custom in many churches at Rome consideration. Those whom you thus meet are the lay­ to shew from Christmas to Twelfth-day a Presepio, a kind of brothers of the order, who do the begging and other menial stage representation of the stable at Bethlehem, with the services, while the priests give themselves up to prayer and 156 Recollections of a Clwistmas at Rome. Recollections of a Christmas at Rome. 157

study. They have after all no easy life of it. They . these memorials of early Christianity, and but nterest than no other clothing, than the brown serge robe, a piece of think which m?re disappoints th� actual visitor. You for a little I girdle and a pair of sandals, with occasional sto a thlCk candle m yO'ur hand through have a dreary walk wlth by doctor's orders. The cloth is woven at a fa ctory of sandy soil, just wide enough for one nO"galleries cut in the own, and every three years a piece cut in the 10 by rows of recesses one requisite a to pass at a time, and flanked is given 111 � to each of the brotherhood who sews it up 0 of an ordinary coffin. Here and above the other, of the size all, and never gets out of it till the next distribution. an open space, which, you are there the galleries converge to sleep on blankets, and at midnight are summoned chapels used by the proscribed by informed, is one of the convent bell to attend matins. At six the and in services of the Christians. On the walls are sundry inscriptions, begin, and the rest of the day is mostly taken up of the Apostles, with some cases, portraits of our Saviour or of some Their fa re too is meagre, so that it is hard to see what is which do not give one a very exalted idea of early Christian inducement to join the order. Mr. Story tells an art. After a quarter of an hour of this, you again emerge illustrating this. A young Roman whose fortunes into the light of day, and are told you have seen the become desperate, declared to his friend that he could Catacombs. it no longer, and that he meant to throw himself into N ear these memorials of the life and the death of Chris- Tiber, "No, no," said the fr iend, "don't do that. If tians hunted from the world are the principal sepulchral affairs are in so bad a state, retire into a convent, become remains of Ancient Rome. It was a touching and, I cannot Capucin." "Ah no was 1" the indignant reply, "I but think, an ennobling custom, which, instead of gathering desperate, but I have not yet come to that pitch of des together its dead in some common cemetery, laid them there tion." where, going out and coming in, their sons coul d have before There is one other church of which I must speak, be them the remembrance of their virtue and their greatness. of the beautiful legend of which it preserves the No burials were allowed within the walls of Rome, but all It is called the " Domine quo Vadis," and stands about a the chief roads were lined for some miles with the monuments beyond the gates on the fam ous Appian way. The legendis of the dead. St. Peter during one of the persecutions which harassed t On the Appial1 way they still exist fo r five or six miles church at Rome, had been induced by some of his friends out, here a tower, there a pillar, here a stone. No place seek safety in flight. He had escaped fr om the city, is better fitted for musing on the contrasts of ancient reached the point where this church stands, when he grandeur and present ruin. Let us pause here a while. before him the well known form of his Lord and M It is a still: peaceful afternoon-the sun, westering fast, Startled at the sight, he exclaimed " Domine quo Vadis ? bathes the desolate Campagna with its golden-silver light. Lord, whither goest thou ? "I go to Rome," was the The Alban hills some ten or twelve miles distant stand out "there again to be cruc ified "; and the vision against the pale clear sky, a mass of purple that changes soon But to prove its reality the stone on which our Lord to gray. The western horizon is lucid with a yellow light, stood retained the imprint of his fe et. St. Peter, awed almost the only sign of winter. A fe w stray clouds rose­ the rebuke, turned his steps back to the city, and met tinged by the setting sun give change of bright and dark to death which his Lord bef ore him had suffered, but deemi the wide plain (no place surpasses the Campagna for atmos­ himself unworthy after his weakness and flight to die pheric effects). Before us lies the straight line of road­ the same death, was cru cified head downwards. The stretching away with its double row of tombs and mounds stone is preserved in the church to this day ; it is true it is to the fo ot of the Alban hills, the old pavement laid bare of marble, which is queer, and the sceptical do say that a keen here and there. On our left are two lines of broken arches, eye may see traces of the chisel about it, but the legend extending far as the eye can see, here a long unbroken line, remains, and think you will I agree with me that no sceptic's here a solitary arch, standing, as a modern author has said, like doubts can take away its beauty. " shadowy troops of mourners, passing from a nation's grave," A little beyond this church begin som e of the Catacombs. the wide plain that stretches between, scarce cultivated, and if There is little in Rome which excites greater curiosity and you stay too late, breeding pestilential vapours : scarcely a Recollections of a Cl�ristmas at Rome. 159 151;1 Recollections of a Ch ristmas at Rome. plain, and brought their supplies of health to the sign of life, save where a solitary shepherd in his crO:'s the road was crowded with passengers and vehicles, coat, comes fo rward to cheer his solitude by the sight ity. The � or lumbering waggons. There is but one the voice of wift cun'icles, one of human kind. s nnd unaltered now, if even one, which St. Paul would Such is it now. Everything speaks of desolation and thin°", peasant the ignorance and superstition of the a glory departed. Eighteen hundred years ago and nd that is, a as to us the solitary shepherd, to see the another traveller, short of stature and of weak bodily �vho maybe came, n that passed by. ance, landed at Appii Forum, with an escort of ri so er p we meet with sepul­ As we come nearer to the old walls, soldiers, and travelled along this queen of ways to the ll another character. They consist of sma of the world. After skirting the Alban hills past La chral remains of the ground, but possibly ambers which are now under with its steep ascent and its swarm of beggars (they are ch or pigeon­ e once not so. They are called columbaria, still) he crossed this same Campagna. Then the monum wer in way in which the walls are marked out were still entire, and at every step some stone told the cotes, fr om the each large enough to contain of valiant deeds ended, or of domestic happiness and rolVS of small triangular recesses, the ashes of some one departed. These blighted too soon. Here the two traditional mounds of a funeral urn with to noble houses which had a large Horatii and Curiatii told of Rome's in6mcy, and colul11 baria belonged and servants. One of those. recently the former limits of a territory which then comprised fa mily of dependents resting place of the familia of Pompey whole civilised world : there a massive tower told of discovered is the fa med in later conquests, entwined with the loved m the Great. too long over these death monu- of womanly virtue.'" The two aqueducts stretched un But we have lingered a strange charm. ments of the past. They have fo r me from them far more % A stern-round towel' of other days, I seem to heal' the voice of antiquity Let us now glance Firm as a fo rtress, with its fence of stone, clearly than fr om its life monuments. from the place Such as an army's baffled strength delays, rapidly at some of the latter. We will start gate. As we Standing with half its battlements alone, we occupied just now, outside the old Appian And with two thousand years of ivy grown, ruin. It is the enter the city, we see on the lef t, a massive The garland of eternity, where wave of Caracalla. It largest of the old Roman baths, the baths The green leaves over all by time o'er thrown ; feet long. fo rmed a square, each side of which was 1100 What was this tower of strength ? within its cave and the plan of The walls and part of the roof still remain, What treasure lay so lock'd, so hid ? A woman's grave. and the vaulted the building can be clearly traced. The floor quite a Perchance she died in youth : it may be, bow'd roof are covered with mosaic. These baths were to curry With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb fe ature of Ancient Rome ; if any man of note wished That weigh'd upon her gentle dust, cloud I suppose, a favour with the people, he would build and, Might gather o'er her beauty, and a gloom any one endow one of these huge establishments, where In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom Turkish bath, might enjoy a cold bath, or what we call a Heaven gives its fa vorites-early death ; yet shed old Romans gr or at a merely nominal charge. The A sunset charm around her, and illume atis, fo nder of cold water than their descendants. With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead, must have been off to the right, and make Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like red, A little further on we turn by some nfty what haste we can, for the street is occupied taking the nrst Perchance she died in age-surviving all, novices who at intervals of a dozen yards are Charms, kindred, children-with the silver gray the French of steps towards maintaining the reputation of On her long tresses, which might yet recall, the end of this being the best drummers in the world. At It may be, still a something of the day stre Via eli San Gregorio, is a nne massive arch, the When they were braided, and her proud array et, the arc And lovely form were envied, praised, and eyed h of Constantine. Colosseum ; a vast amphitheatre, as By Rome-But whither would cOlljecture stray ? Beyond this is the you in the shape an ellipse, or oval, which would Thus much alone we know-Metella died, know, of The richest Roman's wife : Behold his love 01' pride. 160 Recollections of a Cltristmas at Rome. Recollectit;ms of a Clwistmas at Rome. 16 t 87,000 hold people. It is hard to realize its size. not only a church, but a sentry station of reason is that the materials of it have been so fr eely is nOW the French that garrison, and it is only by presenting a permit signed by the in no place can y�u trace the tiers of se�ts fr ?m top . commandant that admission can be procured. In the good bottom. And it reqUIres a vast effort of ImagmatlOn old times previous to the French occupation, the arches of picture it, one vast mass of human faces all bent upon the building were not unfrequently the haunt of robbers and poor slave 01' martyr in hopeless conflict with some beast 620 ands, so that visitors were scarcely safe. Now you can prey in the arena. Its greatest length is fe et, its _ brig m about in perfect security. The extent of the place can breadth 513 fe et, and it rose in three stories to the height roa be realised as the moonlight comes streaming through 157 fe et, a majestic monument of the downfall of the Je ucst fo r it was by Vespasian and Titus that it was built after the many arches, veiling all that is ruined, and mellowing Here and there a gleaming torch, moving along the return from Judrea. The workmen were probably J decay. slaves. upper galleries tells of some party of visitors that are going over the building, and the faint echoes of a merry laugh give Here, as everywhere in Rome, the fo rm of of the distance between you and them. has been imposed upon the remains of heathendom. you some notion Imagination sees the place again eopled with its 80,000 arena where Christian martyrs fo ught with lions is p nts. Let us try to picture to ourselves the scene. It temple dedicateu to their memory. Round it stand occupa bright summer's day, the fo rum and all the approaches fo urteen stations, commemorative of our Saviour's death, is a the amphitheatre are crowded with sight-seers in their ever and anon some procession of priests and monks to holiday attire, the men in gay parti-coloured robes, or in in pilgrimage to the spot. Within it once stood an white togas, for no one may appear at the games in black. When a Christian was brought in, he received the option Here a group of gladiators, marshalled by their trainer, elbow sacrificing on this altar to Jupiter, or being " butchered their way good-humouredly through the crowd; there a band make a Roman holiday." M. Michelet in his history of French Revolution , alludes to another custom connected of soldiers, their pikes flashing in the sun, push uncere­ moniously along, their heavy hobnailed boots coming down it. I give it on his authority, and in his words. He on the fe et of any one who is unlucky enough to stand in their " when there had been in the Colosseum at Rome a great way. We reach the building. Thanks to the numerous and and a great butchery, when the arena had drunk in its capacious passages, for every alternate arch is a separate of blood, when the lions, glutted with human flesh, lay entrance, we have no difficulty in making our way to the tired and satiated, then to divert the people's minds and scat fo r which we hold a ticket. And what a sight meets our them fo rget what has passed, a little fa rce was given to fo l An egg was put into the hands of some wretched slave view ! Thousands and thousands of human faces, twenty as many as at the most crowded meeting in Exeter had been condemned to the beasts, and he was turned times the arena ; if by good luck he could manage to carry his naIl ; rising roW above row far as the eye can reach. Over the whole sways a huge awning stretched fr om side to side, as far as the altary, he was safe. The distance was not great, ?nd keeping off the too fierce rays of the sun. The place but how great it seemed to him. The beasts, sated, and IS arranged in three tiers or stories, with a gallery running sleeping or soon about to sleep, did not fail at the slight noise round the top. The lowest, consisting of fourteen rows, is of his tender tread, to lif t their drowsy eyelids, they roared devoteu to the senators and patricians, who occupy the first terribly, and seemed to ask themselves whether they should fo ur, and the knights, all, that is, who have a certain income abandon their repose fo r such a ridiculous prey. Never (about £300 a year), the second to ordinary people who clown, or mime so stirred the laughter of the people." The do not reach this income, the third to slaves and persons altar is now a cross, and whoever kisses this cross saves, not Who do not possess a rateable income, (those who do not his life, fo r that is not now in peril, but seven years of purgatory. pay income tax) who are bound to wear cloth of a dingy subfusc hue. The gallery is given up to the women, though The Colosseum by moonlight is one of the sights of Rome Som e of them have encroached upon the cushioned seats which are to be done, and is one of the very fe w such sights, b low. Bnt hark ! while we have been looking round, the which leave no disappointment behind. The old amphitheatre ? elm and hubbub of these thousand voices are hushed, and

VOL. V. JI[ 162 163 Recollectz"ons oj a Glwistmas at Rome. Recollectio�zs of a Olwistmas at Rome.

all eyes turned towards that box which faces the to him if he be overtaken before he has ll speed. Woe entrance. Soon a general murmur of Ave Imperat01' ! fu ec1 together his net fo r another cast. But see ! he to the Empe ather ror ! greets the entry of the conqueror of Jerus ly swerves from his course ; his pursuer is clo.se behind, His �,� dden appearance is the sign fo r the games to begin. fo re he can turn to fo llow, again the net flies out, but and be doors of the arena (which is fifteen fe et lower than the Again the same scene of flight and pursuit, the still in vain. l' OW of seats) open, and a band of gladiators come fo atants watching each other witly careful eyes, and tWO comb two and two. They have been trained specially But the third odo·jng about to make or to avoid attack. occasion, and are in point of physical strength and d O head throw is more successful, the net drops on the victim's some of the picked men of the world. They walk his fo rm, and soon he lies helpless and is quickly gathered round round the arena and draw up beneath the Emperor's his on the sand. Over him stands his adversary, brandishing with the mournful cry, Ave ! Imperat01' ! Mo ritu1'i te Satu waits to see tanf. tridcnt in ail', and looking round to the spectators "Health to thee, and greeting from them that go to The people are the effect of the appeal of the vanquished. death." Then they station themselves on different sides fight, in a lenient mood, and the pursuer bas shown good the arena, fo r their part in the day's programme is not downward yet so the thumbs of the outstretched hands are turned Again on either side of the ring an irongrating opens, the and to the earth, and the man's life is spared. The two leave one a rhinoceros, from the other a tiger'" are let into the arcna together. They have both been kept 011 short commons fo r some It is now the gladiators' turn. A picked body of them, to whet their appetite fo r the combat. The rhinoceros matched in pairs, are to £ght to the death ; there is to be no spies his enemy and trots clumsily across the ring, 'mid appeal to the spectators. Now the excitement begins-fo r laughter of the audience, while the tiger cowers still aga...... Uj it needs blood to whet the jaded appetite of a Roman crowd. the bars, his keen eye watching his antagonist. As he co With straining eyes they watch the progress of the fight : within reach the tiger makes a spring, but his claws do and with unblenched cheeks and unquivering lips tender hold well in the thick rhinoceros hide, and the next momentt women and children look on the death-agonies of the van­ he is pinned to the ground by his adversary's tusk, and quished. And I may remark by the way, that there must there a mangled carcase. The pent up breath of the spectawr. have been some strange fascination, to us unintelligible, in finds relief, and the buzz of conversation is renewed these sights. St. Augustine tells us of a fellow-student of his, the victor is enticed and the tiger dragged fr om the who came to Rome, and was pressed by his friends to go Some are commenting upon the last performance, others and see the gladiatorial shows. After refusing for a long betting upon the next event 'in the programme, which is time he at last consented, bu.t determined not to open his combat known as that of the netsman and his pursuer. eyes to any of the horrors which he knew took place. But sently theseappear, and after the usual obeisance to the emperol'..l! a shout of the people at some clever fe at done in the stand facing each other, each carefully watching his opp arcna, made him open his eyes, and it was all over with him. tunity. One of them is armed with helmet, shield, and s He was soon loudly shouting with the rest, and from that the other is clad simply in a linen tunic or shirt reaching time was carried away by a passion fo r these games, amount­ the knees, and carries in one hand a sharp three-pronl' ing nearly to madness. To return : when these duels are fork, in the other a long net. The man in armour, over, and the victors have retired, the gratings are opened, pursuer, creeps in nearer and nearer to his opponent, and a number of wild beasts, lions and panthers, are let out­ he is just beyond the reach of his net, then darts fo rward fo l' the day's proceedings are to close with a venatio, or as to come to close quarters ; at the same moment the net hunt, in which the remainder of the men who came in with thrown, but no ! it has missed its mark, and the netsman, the gladiators are to take part, and that no very easy one. having evaded his pursuer's thrust, is running as fast as his :rhere is no appeal from the lions to the spectators, and so legs will carry him round the arena, his pursuer after him at �t is not generally the regularly trained gladiators, but slaves Just trained for the occasion who are pitted against the wild 'i(; The reader who is familiar with Mr. Melville's novel, b Gladiators," will see that I have here borrowed fr om him. easts. At last this too is over-and the people stream out. In a lIi2 165 164 Recollections of a Ch ristmas at Rome. Recollections of a Ch ristmas at R01nfJ.

fe w minutes the ' place is empty, for everything is contrived �t is �uilt against the wall ?f a large house. give easy spoken. , egress. It is stated that the amphitheat u SIts III hIS car surrounded by tntons and dolphins, re Nept ne Nimes, which would hold according to different se mouths the water pours in a perennial stream 17000 25000 from who to persons, could be cleared in five below. This basin is surrounded by a nto the huge basin The i a architects of our public buildings might take a d border below the level of the street. Now not p ave fr om them. n was to be seen there-not a sound to be heard but perso and the peaceful murmur of the water. You While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand, our own voices eyes to fancy you were far off in the When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fa ll, had only to shut your shade of ilex and And when Rome falls-the world ! country, 'mid green leaves, under the springs. olive where the water of the fo untain Such was the prophecy of our Anglo-Saxon Any notice of Rome which passed over its art collections eleven hundred years ago, ject on which and there are no other rem would be incomplete, and yet then>, is no sub of antiquity in Rome so typical is so wide and the of its grandeur. All it is so difficult to speak. The ground seems paltry af . alone ter it choice is so embarrassing. The galleries of the Vatican Of modern but Rome, what shall I say ? It is a city contain sufficient material fo r many a course of lectures, fo untains and dirt. In . every every square is a large f0 1 when in addition to these, every palace, every villa, almost every I house which possesses a courtyard is a church, contains some treasures of its own, where shall and with all this, no town could well be dirtier. The begin ? fountains fo rm in the day-time quite a busy scene ; The museum of the Vatican contains several galleries of their basins is a row of laundresses, washing after the ancient sculpture, four rooms of paintings every one of which tinental fa shi on-each with her board before her, on is a treasure in itself, fo ur rooms whose walls are covered the unfortunate linen is spread and rubbed and scrubbed, with Raffaelle's fr escoes, colonnades adorned with smaller good clouting being now and then administered to the fr escoes done by his pupils from his designs, and the Sistine therewith, by way of improving the colour. And you Chapel whose east wall and ceiling are adorned by the hand guess how the women's tongues go all the while. of Michael Angelo. I cannot go into details, but will speak there are the groups of girls and women who come of one or two of these works. their copper vase!;, and stay to gossip while they are First we will go into the second room of the picture and the ragged little urchins climbing on to the li gallery. It contains only three pictures, but two of them are dolphins' backs, and trying within how near of a d pronounced by painters the first and second in the world. they can go, and the carter's horses with their jingling The first is Raffaelle's last work which was carried still wet that stop to plunge their noses into the cool water, and in his funeral procession. It represents the Transfiguration ; and there a peasant in his sheepskin dress stopping to most of you know the engraving of it. And were it only his gourd as he returns to his country home. And with fo r the one head of our Saviour, it is worth the pilgrimage this the pleasant gurgling and gushing of the water, coo)' �o see it. Surely never did infinite love, and infinite pity, the air. Joined with human fo reboding of the decease which He was And at night what a contrast. The night before I I to accomplish at Jerusalem, find such a representation. With Rome, we went down, a large party, to the Colosseum. Him are Moses and Elias, two somewhat uninteresting figures. was bright moonlight, and we rambled up and down Below are the three disciples. St. Peter with upturned ruins, peering out of the upper arches upon the city that awestruck face, but closed eyes and a half deprecating below, or pacing the arena which so many a ghost of the gesture, CH Depart from me, for I am a sinful man ") as once might hau t. Then we � went through the Forum, he boldly started to join his Lord on the water, and then strange sohtude gave the fa ncy full play, while its sank. St. John in reverential posture, shading his dazzled columns here and there were marked faintly but distin eyes with his hand, as able still to bear the manifestation of against the sky, beautif ul in their ruin. Then we went to hi.s Master's glory. Such is the upper half of the work. Fountain of Trevi, . , the the largest of those of which I have 'VIth this is joined another group, the nine other disciples 166 167 Recollections of a C7�ristmas at Rome. Recollections of a Christmas at Rome. , to whom parents and friends altered since the time when " Bread and bring the demoniac character, little Every figure cry. It is a very simple in this group is full of power-the fr enzied lYames" was the people's only but the heart even than odd and even. It is -stricken but still hoping mother-the father ery ancient game, older fa ce seems � Two persons sit or stanu to glare at the disciples as impostors and decei played thus in its simplest fo rm. and the Apostles, fr om the their left hands held immoveable attentive fa ce of Andrew to opposite each other-with upturned lip and nose of sneering The players flash out suddenly Judas. at the height of the shoulder. The second is the "L shouting out at the ast Communion of St. J erome," any number of fingers of the right hand, Domenichino, in which guess to be that of all the the gaunt death-like figure of same time a number which they Saint stands right, out fr om the rest. Long fastings and fingers held out by both. If one of the two guesses fications have marred hand. If that weary frame, but the light of he counts a point, which is registered on the left burns still in the sunken is counted. Five eye. The attendant figures neither or both guess aright, nothing a group which is perfect in composition, but none of points, or sometimes ten make the game. This game has draws and under away the eye fr om the centre figure of the picture. the advantage that it can be played anywhere, loud of The third painting is one of the most beautiful some old ruin the traveller is often startled by a cry Raffaelle's Madonnas. Tre ! Cinque ! Sei ! three; five, six. The excitement of the With Michael Angelo's works in the Sistine I was players is intense, and each watches his antagonist lest he should what disappointed. The Colossal figures which support play unfairly. For in this game of Morra or Flashfingers arches, and the figures of prophets and sibyls which fill there is a certai.n unruly member called the thumb, and it is recesses between are exceedingly fine, because in them at times hard to tell whether it is extended or not. An is place fo r the muscular developement of which the unscrupulous player will make use of this, and suppress his master is so fo nd. But in the groups which thumb on occasion. And then ten to one a quarrel will ceiling, descriptive of scenes from early Scriptural ensue, which may not impossibly end in blood. and in the great the Roman cha­ painting of the " Last Judgment " it IS Here you have an epitome as it were of my mind a blemish rather than a beauty. When I look racter-happy, simple,easily contented, but impressible,easily the last named picture with all its wondrous power, excited, and keenly resenting any inj ustice. The simplicity feeling that first occurs to me is that if the martyrs of the Roman character has, however, not been improved apostles of the Christian fa ith had possessed thews and sin by the French occupation. The beautiful costumes of the like that, they must have shown fight bef ore they went Roman women are being banished by French fashions, and their death. with them are introduced other vices that go in their train. But with all its treasures of painting, it is its But this will soon be over-the question is what will take its which fo rms Rome's greatest artistic ornament. There place. The wishes of the Roman people (I do not say of the galleries of painting elsewhere which may vie with those aristocracy) will be for a union with the Italian kingdom, Rome, but none of sculpture. Indeed the wonderful and fo r the overthrow of the priestly power. H The priests" of the chisel is almost a revelation to the visitor of (I quote the words of a Roman artist) " are the causes of all the Works like the Dying Gladiator, the Laocoon, the Faun misery of Rome. Not content, unless they have everything Praxiteles, the Capitoline Venus, the Belvedere Apollo, �ere in their power, they have destroyed all independent the recently discovered Statue of Augustus make us conscio Industry-there is now no commerce at Rome-and should of a power unknown before, and tempt us to linger two seasons fail to bring the usual swarm of visitors, a famine But I must leave them. must be the result. And then we must support them, and There nay n are many features of modern Rome over which, �he crowds of monks, their attendants, in idleness, ofte I coul linger-its d Ghetto or Jews' quarter, its cafi'es, its �n luxury and debauchery." The history of this young artist theatres, its palaces, been at work its villas-but time, tide, and the rail­ IS a fail' specimen of the influences which have way train back to Civita Vecchia wait fo r no man. There to keep the spirit of liberty alive in the young men of Rome. in the are its games too and its lotteries ; and of one of these I will In 1848, a mere child, he saw his brothel' shot down fa ther and say a word or too-it will give you a good idea of the Roman outbreak which led to the French occupation, his 168 Recollections of a Ch 1'istmas at Rome. family proscribed. Afterwards, his uncle, the keeper restaurant in Rome, was thrown into prison fo r sixty and afterwards banished with his fa mily, because during Carnival some of the liberal party after a good dinner at house, hung out the device "Italia U nita." Italy one. himself was only allowed to stay as a student in the U sity, looked upon as harmless. Stories like these make fe ar that the day of revolution may be not only a day 1 ROM1UNT OF NORMANDY. reform, but a day of grave reckoning and revenge. But when it comes, what a noble fu ture may be that Rome ! The city whose earliest annals are a history of for liberty, may at length become its noblest throne. with all its toils and joys Tml " Long" had passed, hearts then no longer shall class strive with class, the subject Commingled sweetly, and with buoyant to roam his rulers, only to bow the necks of his oppressors in his We left old England's shores, awhile fa me delights with a heavier and more oppressive yoke ; no longer From town to town, where storied of those liberty at once degenerate into lawlessness, each doing w Still to rehearse the valorous deeds is right in his own eyes ; no longer shall the luxury and Whose fiery spirit, wedded to the stern English veins splendour of a fe w cover in, but only fo r a time the bur Hard Saxol1 nature, pours through deeds of high emprise. crater of misery that lurks beneath, whose fu mes rise d The floods that stir to he passing skilled to wield heaven ; no longer shall the stranger take the city un My fr iend and I; of Urania's art, protection ; but the The mystic symbols rule of law, impartial law, the only and Versed in the wildering laws of x y; liberty, the only true commonwealth, shall dispense its days, I loving more the strains of olden alike to all with unfavouring hand-and the city, to The woodland pipings of Theocritus, early conflicts many a struggling and oppressed class grace Pindar's tempestuous might, or regal looked for encouragement-the city from whose fair. gates Of Sophocles, or Plato's visions fo rth the legions that essay subdued the world, carrying Not such our present care ; our 801e principles joy and mirth, if not the practice of law and order in their tr Was but to chase the hours with at noon, the city, which, in these latter days, has stretched over To dream beneath the sylvan shade the stars. Europe the gentle refining sway of the artist's hand, as it Or flash fo rth echoing thoughts beneath prime stretohed the iron hand of power, will stand a sevenfold And so it fell, that once in dewy where the hills on its seven hills, to send the rays of Liberty far as its ' Leaving the woods of Mortain, abeles armies trod. On either side stand clad in tall ; and the cascades fall And, nobler prospect still, from the arena where Chris Beeches and chestnuts downwards to the plain, martyrs bled-from those dingy catacombs, where the Hurriedly tumbling crops ; we came at noon simple loving faith of Christian Far spread with plenteous brethren found its Sourdeval ; Unto the clear cold springs of shall go fo rth once more the soft voice of religious fr e saw afar, And with the sinking sun we proclaiming liberty to the captive, and the openinO' of of a hill Set on the swelling bosom prison doors to souls whom for so long priestcraft an walls of Vire. d sup That fa ced the west, the snowy stitian have bound. H But the end is asked me for the tale not yet." Then spoke my friend :-" You I bought Found in the quaint old ballad-book here's the place At A vranches : listen now ; for ruined wall The rhymer sings of : yonder of Tancreville." Is all that DOW remains sinking sun And so we sat us down. The gold Sped forth his levelled shafts of ruddy I

170 A Romaunt of No rmandy. A Romaunt of No rmandy. 171

Athwart the forest ; till the topmost leaves, The waie it is rough, and there shyneth not Already glowing 'neath the Autumn's hand One starre in all the skie ; With that strange beauty that presages death, But on she goes, till the levin shows Seemed all aflame, with never flickering fire. That a cottage-doore is nigh. The winds were lulled, and silence reigned around, She knocketh once, she knocketh twice, Save where with few fa int notes the nightingale She tirleth at the pinne ; Essayed a prelude to the .plaintive flood And she hears the raine, . and the wayling winde, Of melody, which soon the charmed woods But never a sound within. Should echo back from every far recess. With doulorous plaine she knocks again, And then he drew the old black-letter tome And her quaking harte beats high, Forth from his pouch and read : and if it were When an eldritch dame unopes the doore, That something in the weird and mournful tale And gives her entery. Chimed with the silent hour ; or that the old Quaint language of the poet suited well "Now saye thy hest at this home of reste ; Our wanderings in the historic land that tells Fayre mayden, say what cause Not of the Present but the Past in all, Hath made thy wearie fe et to rome Or that I loved it only for his sake Beneath the greenwood shaws." That read, I know not, but it pleased me well : "Oh mother !" quoth she, "I come to crave And now I write it as he read it then, Thy spelles of grammarye ; And leave it in its rude and olden dress. For my love he has grat me sore to weepe, And a fause, fause loon is he. FYTTE FYRSTE. yE "He spake me soft and he spake me swete, THE nighte it was chill and dreare, And my lemman he vowed to be ; And St. Martin's eve was nigh, But now he has given his plighted troth When a mayden, clad in russet weedes, To a mayde of the north countrie. To the lonelie woodes did hie. "In her father's byre is many a kye, The raine fe ll fast, and loud the winde And ours is toome and bare ; Thro' the shivering trees made mone, And so he has left his own true love, But the mayden reeked nor wind nor raine, To woo a richer fere. And she passed on alone. Now rede me a spelle of muckle might, Her weedes were sadde, but never in hall To till my love to me, Was seen a fayrer face ; And my mother's chayne of good red gold And never had high-born damosel I'll presentlie bringe to thee." Such bonnie and winsome grace. But the eerie beldam's glowering eyne Ah me ! what did that mayden there Were burning like a glede ; In the gruesome houre of night, And stom she looked in the mayden's face, When never a fe re was standing nere And thus she read her rede. To guard fr om caityffe spight � "Do off that kirtle of russet hue, Fierce flashed the levin ; the thunder roared ; For I know thee, damosel ; But never a prayer said she ; Such sorrie weedes beseeme thee not, And a name she named, and a vowe she vowed, Fayre Elsie of Tancreville. But not to our Deare Ladye. " No carlish hind hath wonne thy love, She hung her heade, she bent her browe, But a knighte of high degree : As one in doleful tene, Ne nobler childe than bold Sir Hugh And shuddering ever and agayne, May be fo und in N ormandie. She sterte the brake within. 173 1 72 .A Romaunt of No rmandy. A Romaunt of No rmandy.

"Thy landes are wide and fayre ; and thou The prieste he readeth the hallowed rite, Hast broad bezantes in store ; And giveth his benison : And bold Sir Hugh hath passing few, They knele as two ; fo r wele or wo But he loves thee never the more. Together they rise as one. "Yet here I bringe thee, an thou liste, But ever as ofte as the holy manne A spell of muckle might ; Would utter our Deare Lorde's name, A carkanet of the rubies red His voice it fayleth tremblinglie, Shall till to thee thy knyghte. And he wepeth sore for shame. "Now claspe it round thy snowy 'necke, And ever as ofte as the mayden quier But keepe my spelle with care ; Doth praye oure Ladye's grace, And see that to our Ladye's grace Fayre Elsie shudders and bends her ]owe, Thou never breathe a prayer. Fayre Elsie hides her fa ce. " Ne yet unto her Blessed Sonne And ever as ofte as she looketh on Who dyed upon the tree ; The roode on the altar sette, Or on thy head a banne shall light, Lyke a fierie glede, the rubies burn By my eldritche grammarye." In that eerie carkanette. Fayre Elsie she raised her hande to take, FYTTE THYRDE. But she thought on the Holye Rood ; yE And shuddering sterte fr om the beldam hoar, Burd Elsie she sittes in her bower so fayre, And in wo eful dree she stood. But ah ! she is sadde of blee ; But then she thought on bold Sir Hugh, For a yere and a daie have past away, That true and scaythelesse knight, And her bame is on her knee. And she took the eerie carkanette But ever he greeteth piteouslie, With rubies all y-pight. And eke he maketh mone, Would draw the teires fr om a salvage manne, FYTTE SECONDE. yE An his harte were harde as stone. Merrie is the lavrock's carol, And his little bodie it wrytheth sore On the dewie greenwood spraies ; As of one in bitter teene ; Merriely the wanton mavis In soothe it was a sadde sadde syghte Chanteth shrill his roundelaies. To come to hys mother's eyne. Merriely the broade sunne shyneth "Deare Ladye, pitty me," then she cried, Over Vire and Tancreville ; For the love of thy Blessed Sonne ; Merriely the bells are ringing And assoyle my bonnie bame fr om bale, In our Ladye's fa ire chapelle. That on the tree He wonne." From north and sowth and east and weste, She hadde not spoken a worde of prayer, They are coming in bright arraie, A worde but only two ; For the fayrest flowr in Normandie When a payne that brente like an arowe keene It is her weddynge daie. Did pierse her fayre halse through. Oh the bridegroom's looke it is gladde and Eache gemme in that eerie carkanette And a prowde prowde man is he ; With jewels all y-pight, But there sitteth a smyle on Elsie's fa ce Did scorche her lyke a fierie glede, More sadde than teares to see. A-shene with ruddie light. And now the lordlie companye She shrieked alowde ; she didde it offe ; To our Ladye's shrine is boune, She flung it on the floore : And at the holy altar-grece The reek arose around the gemmes, Sir Hugh and his bryde knele down. And she saw it never more. j

A Romaunt of No rmandy. 175 174 A Romaunt of No rmandy. "Woe worth the day !" fayre EIsie cried, FYTTE FowRTHE. yE "I ever saw God's lyght ; Full soone the gyftes of grammarye For now by sinneful grammarye, Like a fleeting wraith are gone ; I have slayne my own trewe knyght." And soone, I wis, doth passe the blysse And then she brought hys bodie in, That a synneful spelle hath wonne. And she kist the clay-cold bree ; The bame that pyned piteouslie And to the Blessed Virgin thus Ere morne was col de and dead : She spake right piteouslie :- nd they beare it fo rth from Tancreville, A "Deare Ladye, of thine endlesse grace To reste, in the kirkyarde Iayde. Have pitty on me now ; Sir Hugh he erst was bIyth and hende, Assoyle me of my fo wle fo wle shame, And of Iovynge courtesie ; And heare my stedfaste vowe. But now hys voyce is sterne and stoure ; My fayre estates, my broad bezants, But now he is sadde of bree. I give them all to thee, It fell on a daye that fo rth he fared To build thee here in the fo rest drear To hunte the fa llowe deere ; A statelie nonnerie. With hys reel-roan stede and his prowde meyne And there among the holy maydes, He rode by the walles of Vire. For all my coming daies, And now he is boune to the greenwood shaws I'll pray thee every houre a prayer, With all his companie ; And ever syng thee prayse : The houndes they bay, and the homes they blow, That so I may purge my synnefuI souIe And the donne deere fa st they flee. From all its fo wleness clere ; Fast rydes Sir Hugh the fo rest through And pure at laste, in the worlde above, As one at the morte would be ; May mete my bame and fe re." Then in the brake all suddenlie L. A warlock fo wle doth see. An eldritch laugh she laughed alowde ; The frygh tened stede it sterte ; And downe fr om the selle the good knighte fe ll, And moned in mickle hurte. They lyfte him up fr om the cruel grownde, They beare him tenderlie ; And with pacing slowe, and teeneful brow, They wende to hys castle high. Burd EIsie she sittes in her bower so fayre, And she weepeth sore alone ; For her sinne she hath tinte her bonnie bame, And her trewe knyghte's love is gone. They knock alowde at the castle gate, . They wind alowde the home j And the crie of the waylers on the ayre To the bower on high is borne. Fayre EIsie ranne, and she never stint Before the gate she wonne ; But when she came to the yeomen there, They bare a corse alone. J

Te nnvson's Enoch Arden. 177

nd the fatal slip is made. But there the bond of resem­ tween the plots of the ancient and modern lance be poets is � Thenceforth he two stories pU 'sue a differen snapped. � � t path. fo rmer case bltter remorse seIzes upon the In the un­ fo rtunrtte victim. Wherever he flies the hounds of hell doO' his foot-steps. Images of blood and slaughter rise up before him, and strange phantasies haunt him day and night . .And at last he is either fo rced to kill himself, or remorse TENNYSON'S ENOOH .ARDEN. drives him to madness. The evil does not stop here. posterity inherits the evil fr uits of crime ; and generation hands down to generation the cruel destiny.. ONSIDERA C BLY more than a year has already since the Poet Laureate presented his last volume to Who shall absolve thee fr om the guilt enthusiastic and admiring public. But as yet no review or Of that reJ blood so fo ully spilt? criticism on it has appeared in our magazine. No ap How, how the Alastor woulu'st thou name fo r this delay is needed. For it is a notorious fact Accomplice in that deed of shame ? poetry, more than anything else, requires a careful study bef Ancient hereditary foe any just criticism ore can be attempted. And the saying Of all that house of guilt and woe greatest of the of Historians TaXO" rydp /hETd avota" CP£t..E£ rytryv�a-ea£ Borne on the overwhelming flood applies with unusual fo rce to the works of Mr. Tennyson. Rushing amain of kindred blood. The reason for this lies in the wonderful familiarity with which most of us regard the writings of the Laureate. 'Y The modern poet, however, having reached the climax, become so accustomed e to the beauties and imperfections feels a difficulty which was unknown to the Classical writers. his style that we are in danger of confounding them ; and so Christianity has spread over the world a new morality and attached to the friend of our pleasantest hours that we new ideas of justice. Hence neither of the above solutions almost unable to analyse his poems with the calm and of the difficulty would harmonize with the spirit of the age. unimpassioned feeling of the critic. Mr. Tennyson fe els his position acutely, and being unable to It would be quite impossible to speak at length on each solve the question, he throws a veil over it and leaves his of the poems which are contained in the volume before us : readers to fo llow out their own imaginations. but I shall endeavour, though imperfectly I fear, to touch on The story itself is briefly told. In a small sea-side village some of the most prominent. The poem which stands first, lived a rough sailor's lad, the hero of the story, whose two con­ and which gives its name to the volume, is called Enoch stant companions were Philip Ray the miller's son, and Arden. It is clearly a work of much labour, and its whole Lee. In course of time Enoch Arden managed to save style and refinement Annie mark it as one of the finest complete and most money enough to maKe a home fo r Annie, and for seven of Mr. '1'ennyson's works. But before anything is years they passed a happy time of " mutual love and honour­ said about its component parts and the working out of its abl last came a change, and while clambering up details, some fe e toil." At w remarks may be made upon To begin the plot. a mast Enoch slipt and broke a limb. As soon as he then, the plot is dramatic, and bears a somewhat recovered he fo und that most of his savings were spent : and close resemblance to the great classical models r instance the . Take fo accordingly he went out on a voyage in the ship Good story of the Labdacidre which so many fo rms the basis of Fortune. Meanwhile troubles began to thicken round his of the most celebrated Greek Tragedies. There, as wife ; her baby died, and all Enoch's savings were gone. It in the poem before us, the whole story is one of unintentional vas then that Philip's nobleness of character began to show guilt. The different steps and � gradual development of the Itse plot are much the lf. In her time of sorrow he gave her support ; and at same in both cases. In victims ignorance both last thinking that Enoch must be dead, he persuaded her to approach the precipice that is hidden fr om their vieW' marry him. Annie showed some reluctance at first, and

VOL. V. N 178 Tennyson's En oclt Arden. Te nnyson's En oclt Al'den. 179 continual fe ars and doubts hovered round her ; exquisite taste the poet has shown in this anecdote ! they were dissipated by new cares ,Vhat proud ust we fe el of an age t�at can produce A.nd how � Then the new mother came about her heart, ts so entll'ely unknown to the claSSIcal poets ! So sentimen Then her good Philip was her all in all. delicacy of Philip's character. Enoch's nwch fo r the soft on the other hand is cast in a firmer and manlier Meanwhile the ship in which Enoch is returning is wre character cked , of strong purpose, and and he is He is a God-fearing man cast upon a Tropical Island, where he lingers f mould. o: le will. Thus when he has once decided that it will years in hope of revisiting his native village. At leng inflcxib th sail fo r fo reign is taken e best fo r himself and his wife that he should up by another ship which was driven fr om ita b fe ars or gentle expostulations turn him from his conrse by adverse winds, and :finally returns to his lands, no home. cast all her But what a urpose. He roughly sermonizes and bids her change awaited the unfo rtunate man ! No fo nd p who will always be near to help her. The wife hastened to welcome him : no children rushed care upon God fo rth to when he bring ame spirit of manliness and heroism is observable their father home in triumph. To no purpose had all s turns home af ter many years absence. Conscious that it his life been spent in endeavouring to procure them a good rc pain to her to know of his existence, he education and careful bringing up. "Enoch would only be poor man was her ; and cast away and rcsolutely refuses to make himself known to lost." But notwithstanding all this bitter persists in his determination even to his death. disappointment, his courage remains unshaken. N ay, the In looking at these two characters, the one remarkable for heroism of his nature appears in all the more brilliant light delicacy and soft devotion, the other fo r :firmness and heroism, because it is set offby misfortune. Too fo nd of his wif e to one can fail to observe a strong phase of resemblance to give her pain by making himself known to her, he returns to no of huma nity which the poet has his solitary home in the village. And there the other ideal characters gentle sickness observed gradually portrayed in king Arthur. Now it has often been removes him from the world of sorrow to which he that while Mr. Tenny-son's imagination is peculiarly rich and has returned. Such is the touching , and beautiful story in pictures of fe male characters, yet he has only which Mr. Tennyson has told in his own exquisite language. fe rtile conceived one type of manly excellence. At first therefore Throughout the whole of it he has shown a great dramatic welcomed this new volume as a step fo rward. power, and to the very last our interest is well kept up. No the public lines of individuality whiuh at part in short has an undue prominence But on closer scrutiny the attached to it : while Arden the first seemed to distinguish king Arthur from Enoeh principal character is never lost sight of fo r !l moment. begin to fade, and the two characters almost imperceptibly to Of the two male characters, Enoch Arden and Philip Ray, melt into one. For in both there is the same chivalrous the Laureate has certainly bestowed the greater pains on the uevotion to woman, the same manliness and heroism. No latter. His character is most carefully developed. Intense on short can read the story of Enoch Arden, and his affection fo r Annie, and a rure delicacy and softness, mark its e in sev contest with his own feelings, without being reminded chief characteristics. 'When Enoch spoke his love boldly ere of Mr. Tennyson's earlier poem. and impetuously, Philip loved in silence. Again when Annie plot of Enoch Arden reminded and Enoch were sitting together in I remarked before that the the wood, Philip did not the one very strongly of the Tragedies of Sophocles. But rush in upon their solitude, and passionately implore them : rese between the two poets is carried to a still further still less did any fe eling of anger or revenge come over him. mblance extent in the details and working-out of the poem. The But he quietly withdrew and bore his own sorrows alone Greek Tragedians employed a contrivance known as the rather than mar her happiness. But no act has brought out in order to excite the interest of their hearers. the delicacy of his character so much as the present of fr uit ElpOYE£a in putting into the mouths of their and flowers which he sent to Annie from This 'irony ' consisted time to time in her The distress, and even characters dark sayings which had a double meaning. chorus, for instance, used fr equently to utter worus which, With some pretext of fineness in the meal, While they really alluded to the crisis of the plot, yet To save the offence of charitable, flour admitted of a second interpretation. Thus the reader was From his tall mill that whistled on the waste. calamity no sooner startled by hints at some awful impending J NZ 180 Tennyson's Enocl� .Al'den. Te nnyson's ElIOclt Arden. 181 than his fe ars were lulled by a new interpretation \vhich had not expected. Mr. . kept himself quite free from this fa ult, and it Tennyson employs this con' he has is not no less than three times in the uch to say that every word is in its right place. £rst poem of the toO m before us. Thus when the fo rm of one sentence ; substitute one the two lads were quarrelling Ohange epithet Annie he makes her er, and the whole charm and ring of his weep fo r anoth verses lost. His command of language is truly wonderful, and prayed them not to quarrel fo r her sake is And in which he makes the rhythm of his verse serve his And say she would be little wife to both. the way, purpose, bafRes all description. Take fo r instance the grand The same idea orous line about the sea which appears in his description is also brought out when Enoch's chil son accustomed to the kind the Tropical Island. fa ce of Philip, played with of and called him "f ather Philip." And lastly, just The league long roller thundering on the reef. Annie married Philip, the poet makes her open a Bible the words, " Under a palm tree." The reader ,Vho can read this billowy verse without picturing to himself who sus pect.:'. the plot seems at the lazy ' fo rce of ocean ' rolling against the rocks that bar its once to understand the allusion. But his fears are for a time calmed by reading on ward course. The beauty of such a verse is, that it the interpretflhn... .j which Annie suggests far more than it says. For it opens to the puts upon it. Certainly Mr. Tennyson used this contrivance imagination a long vista of grand scenes and objects of con­ with considerable effect, and it much to the interest templation. In short, to borrow an expression of Macaulay, of the story. Again the language is often highly classical, it strikes as were a key note, and the melody follows and we £nd instances of that ' it fe licitas ' fo r which as a matter of course. Other lines might be quoted which Rorace is so highly celebrated. I select many instances produce the same effect, as of this, but time and space prevent doing so, and I shall therefore content myself with The lustre of the long convolvuluses. two which seem to me almost inimitable. Speaking Philip's agony And again when he saw Enoch and Annie ' The silent waters slipping fr om the hills. together, the laureate says of him- So too He slipt aside and like a wounded life The dead weight of the dead leaf bore it down. Crept down into the hollows of a wood . A line composed entirely of monosyllables and therefore And again he calls Annie's little boy well calculated to express the fe elings of a man who is The "osy idol of her solitudes. viewing nature with the disconsolate eye of despair. Indeed the whole poem, while it teems with the melody and richness What a world of thought is contained in these exquis of language which marked what is generally called the expressions ! Wh countless at images and associations Classical period of English Literature, yet contains a depth they call up before the mind's eye ! And this of tone, with a fire and fo rce in narrative, as well as an is the greatest praise a poet can win. For in such ex insight into the more delicate fe elings and sensibilities of consists the magical influence of poetry. human nature which were entirely unknown to Pope and The volume before us also marks progress in an his contemporaries. direction. For while the mechanism of its language Befo re I leave the poem of Enoch Arden, a fe w remarks brought to an exquisite degree of pe rfection it is not so about the last two lines will not be out of place. After overburdened with alliteration as some of Mr; Tennyson's describing the touching death of Enoch, the poet, as I for,mer 170ems . There is a ertain . � point after which f requent endeavoured to show above, evidently experienced no small alhteratlOn begms, to ,be tedIOUS! and to sound heavily to the difficulty. How was he to dismiss the characters in whom ear ;' and I am InclIned thInk the to that Mr. Tennyson has reader had been led to take such a keen and lively sometimes crossed the boundary line. But in Enoch Arden interest ? Would not every one wish to heal' how Annie bore the news of her husband's heroic life and death ? These A Te rm Memor y. 183 182 Te nnyson's En oclt Arden. May criticise Enoch Arden I have been then were questions, the solution of which was beset my endeavour to In ength than I had intended. peculiar diffi t e t had only con on to speak at greater l cul i s ; and if he laureate st:ntAd.' arried time and space c have already exceeded the to leave them unsolved, his readers would have find that 1 to ,A.nd I refore reluctantly compelled their difficulties and pardoned the poet fo r not tr to me. 1 am the allotted the present : but I hope soon such delicate ground. instead of acting thus he task unfinished for But 1J1QCP,...'I.. '1 eave my of these poems, l something about the rest as fo llows : be able to say of to to Enoch Arden, are still full ich, though inferior So past the strong heroic soul away. wh admirers. st to Mr. Tennyson's And when they buried him, the little port intere all W. L. W. Had seldom seen a costlim' funeral.

The first line is well enough, and it would have fo rtunate for the poet if he coulu have stopped there : the idea contained in the last two lines is n othing less ignoble. In fa ct, nothing could be conceived more pletely out of place, or more contrary to the whole S of the poem. Now the word 'costlier ' is perhaps the unfortunate epithet that Mr. Tennyson could have ap For it suggests the pomp and pageantry that attends ORY. fu nerals of wealthy men. Here however was no w A MAY TERM MEM nobleman. On the contrary Enoch was an ideal man had suddenly been cut off from the rest of the world, plunged into the deepest misery. Alone he battled with SHE wore a sweet pink bonnet, bitter destiny, and just when he had hoped to receive The sweetest ever known : upon it, "fair guerdon " and to be rewarded fo r his life of And as I gazed own. devotion and heroism, he was again torn from the obj My heart was not my wherefore­ of his dearest longings even while it was within his For-I know not why or put on well, and consigned to darkness and solitude fo r ever. A pink bonnet other things I care for, these sorrows he had voluntarily taken upon himself to Tho' few Acts upon me like a spell. giving pain to another. Surely then a fu neral veiled mysterious darkness would have more befitted such 'Twas at the May Term Races eye : heroism. Who, for instance, in compari ng W olfe's de That first I met her tion of the burial of Sir J olm Moore, can help fe eling Amid a thousand Graces grandeur which naturally surrounds such a simple No fo rm with her's could vie. enamelled interesting scene ? On Grassy's sward Queen ; She reigned fair Beauty's No useless coffin enclosed his breast, And every heart entrammell'd Not in slleet nor in shroud they wound him, With the charms of sweet eighteen. But he lay like a warrior taking his rest I saw that Bonnet-­ With hi$ martial cloak around him. Once more 'Twas on the King's Parade­ This is' the only blot, and it must be confessed that it is Once more I gazed upon it, a serious one, on a poem which in o ther respects must rank And silent homage paid. was gazing ; among the finest of Mr. Tennyson 's productions. For while She knew not I by ; it is remarkable throughout for simplicity of narrative and She passed unheeding trance amazing, richness of imagery, it is more even and regular than any While I, in staring at the sky. of its predecessors. Stood 184 .Lt Ma y Te?'m Me mo?'y,

The May Term now is over ; That Bonnet has 'gone down' ; And I'm myself a rover, Far from my Cap and Gown. But I dread the Long Vacation, And its work by night and day, After all the dissipation Energetic of the May,

For :v and y will vanish, OUR CHRONIOLE. When that Bonnet I recall ; And a vision fair will banish, Newton, Euclid, and Snowball. And a gleam of tresses golden, THE Term that has just past has been most uneventful, And of eyes divinely blue, calling fo r but few records in our usual Chronicle, Will interfere with Holden, which is thus scarcely more than a list of the results of And my Verse and Prose imbue. the sports which occupy so much of every May Term.

MORAL. The College living of Murston (Kent,) is vacant by the These sweet girl graduate beauties, death of the Rev. Dr. Poore, who had held it for fifty years ; With their bonnets and their roses, and that of Great Warley (Essex,) by the death of Dr. Will mar ere long the duties Hastings Robinson, who was presented to it in 1827. Which Granta wise imposes. Who, when such eyes are shining, of recovering the Can quell llis heart's sensations ; Our College seems to be in a fair way years ago appeared to Or turn without repining Classical reputation which some successes which we were To Square Root and Equations ? be passing fr om her. The brilliant have been worthily able to chronicle in our last number And when conspicuous my name Of the eight chief followed up during the present term. By absence shall appear ; no fewer than ty prizes open to und ergraduates, When I have lost all hopes of fame, Universi as by Johnians, having been awarded Which once I held so dear : five have been won When "pluck,ed" I seek a vain relief fo llows :- Elliker Hart. In plaintive dirge or sonnet ; Chancellor's English Poe m-Wo Ep igram-T. Moss. Thou ')Vilt have caused that bitter grief, Sir W. Browne's Medals fo r Greek Thou beautiful Pink Bonnet ! Latin Ode- T. Moss. " " " Porson P?'ize-J. E. Sandys. MENALCAS. . E. Sandys. Me mbers' Prize fo r Latin Prose-J

The First Tyrwhitt Hebrew Scholarship has just been awarded to Mr. J ames Snowdon, A.I., of this College.

The vacancy in the Editorial Committee of TIl e Eagle, . caused by the retirement of Mr. C. C. Cotterill, after a contested election, was filled up by the appointment of Mr. W. Elliker Hart. 184 ..et. May Te1'm JJfemo1'Y' The May Term is over; That Bonnet hasnow 'gone down'; And I'm myself a rover, Far from my Cap and Gown. But I dread the Long Vacation, And its work by night and day, After all the dissipation Energetic of the May.

For tIJ and y will vanish, OUR CHRONIOLE. When that Bonnet I recall; A d vision fair will banish, nNewton,a Euclid, and Snowball. And a gleam of tresses golden, TI-IE Term that has just past has been most uneventful And of eyes divinely blue, ' Will interfere with Holden, calling for but few records in our usual Chronicle which is thus scarcely more than a list of the results of And my Verse and Prose imbue. the sports which occupy so much of every May Term. MORAL. These sweet girl graduate beauties, The College living of Murston (Kent,) is vacant by the With their bonnets their roses, death of the Rev. Dr. Poore, who had held it for fifty years; Will mar ere long theand duties and that of Great Warley (Essex,) by the death of Dr. Which Granta wise imposes. Hastings Robinson, who was presented to it in 1827. Who, when such eyes are shining, way of recovering the Can quell his heart's sensations; Our College seems to be in a fair years ago appeared to Or turl1without repining Classical reputation which some successes which we were To Square Root and ,Equations? be passing from her. The brilliant number have been worthily able to chronicl� in our last . And when conspicuous my name term. Of the eIght chief followed up dunng the present By absence shall appear; fewer than When I have lost all hopes of fame, University prizes open to undergraduates, no Johnians, having been awarded as Which once I held so deal': five have been won by When "plucked" I seek a vain relief follows :- W. Elliker Hart. In plaintive dirge or sonnet; Chancellor's English Poem- M Thou wilt have caused that bitter grief, Sir W. Browne's Medals for Greek Epigram-T. oss. Latin Ode-T. Moss. Thou beautiful Pink Bonnet! " " " MENALCAS. Porson Prize-J. E. Sandys. Members' Prize for Latin P1'ose-J. E. Sandys.

The First Tyrwhitt Hebrew Scholarship has just been awarded to Mr. J ames Snowdon, A.I., of this College.

The vacancy in the Edito+ial Committee of The Eagle, . caused by the retirement of Mr. C. C. Cotterill, after a contested election, was filled up by the appointment of Mr. \V. Elliker Hart. 186 Du?' Chronicle. Our CMonicle. 187

£. .8 d. £. s. d. The following prizes have been awarded during . W. Cassels 2 2 0 H. T. Norton 3 3 0 present term: J J. S. if. Chamberlain 6 6 0 T. de C. O'Grady 6 6 0 English Essay Prizes. 11. H. Cochrane 6 6 0 W. Oxland 3 3 0 THIRD YEAR. J. A. Percival 3 3 0 SECOND YEAR. FIRST YEAR. D. L. Cowie 6 6 0 None adjudged Wilkins 1 lbbetson E. M Fitzgerald 1 10 0 D. Preston 3 3 0 I n. Fitzherbert 6 6 0 J. Pridden 3 3 0 Voluntary Classical E:camination. F. G. Gilderdale 3 3 0 W. Reed 3 3 0 FIRST CLASS 6 0 SECOND CLASS. n. Giles 3 3 0 R. W. Reece, B.A. 6 Fynes-Clinton Almack IL A. GiIlespie 6 6 0 C. L. Reynolds 3 3 0 Gwatkin Beaumont G. H. Hallam 6 6 0 G. Robinson 3 3 0 Haslam, S. Brogden W. E. Hart, junr. 6 6 0 R. C. Rogers 6 6 0 Lloyd Cox J. E. Hewison 3 3 0 W. Routh 6 6 0 Moss Griffith n. Hoare 30 0 0 W. H. Simpson 3 3 0 Sandys Souper A. E. Hodgson 3 3 0 G. Smith 3 3 0 Wilkins Sparkes H. lIumphreys 3 3 0 W. C. Stoney 3 3 0 Verdon J. D. Inglis 3 3 0 J. Thomas 3 3 0 W. Lee Warner 6 6 0 J. Watkins 3 3 0 Moral Philosophy. F Macdona. 3 3 0 C. Welsby 6 6 0 BACHELOR'S PRIZE. THIRD YEAR. SECOND YEAR. H. M. Mansfield 2 2 0 R. Y. Whytehcad 6 6 0 Ds. Hewitt Scarlin J. Musgrave 6 6 0 I None adjudged HONOURABLY MENTIONED. Of the money already received about £575 has now been Hamond. invested in the Indian five per cents.

The following donations and subscriptions have been The officers of the Lady Margaret Boat Club for the present Term have been: promised to the Stained Glass Window Fund since our last notice: President, E. W. Bowling. DONATIONS. Treasurer, A. Forbes. s. Sec�'etary, F £. d £. 3. d. . G. Maples. W. H. Allhusen 1 1 0 F. G. Gretton 10 0 Fit'st Captain, F. Andrews. W. L. Barnes 1 1 0 R. Hey 1 1 0 Second Captain, W. Bonsey. G. L. Bennett 1 1 0 H. Hibbert 10 10 0 Third Captain, A. Low. H. T. Bousfield 10 0 H. Howlett 1 1 0 Fourth Captain, J. M. Collard. E. V. Casson 10 0 W. L. Parrott 1 10 0 III following are the crews of the College boats J. E. Congreve 1 1 0 R. H. A. Squires 6 6 0 The W. O. Dawson 3 0 0 the late races: 1st Boat. 2nd Boat. SUBSCRIPTIONS. C. W. Bourne 1 W. F. Barrett (to be paid in three year3.) 2 A. Low 2 F. A. Macdol1a s. H. R. Beor £. d. £. s. d. 3 C. F ..Roe 3 J. W. Horne 3 3 0 S. J. Boultbee 6 6 0 4 F. Andrews 4 J. E. Congreve G. H. Adams 3 3 0 W. N. Boutflower 3 3 0 5 J. Watkins 5 W. H. Simpson J. W. Bakcwell 3 3 0 W. H. Bradshaw 6 6 0 6 J. M. CollaI'd 6 E. L. Pearson J. R. S. Bennett 6 6 0 A. F. Q. Bros 6 6 o· 7 E. Carpmael 7 .L W. Hodgson T. Benson 6 6 0 F. Burnside 3 3 0 W. Bonsey (stt'oke) W. H. Chaplin (sM'oke) J. A. Bostock 3 3 0 C. Carpmael 6 6 0 A. Forbes (cox.) J. W. D. Hilton (cox.) Our' ChTonicle. 189 188 Our Clwonicle. SECOND DIVISION. 3rd Boat. 4th Boat. 8 L. Margaret 3 } 15 Jesus 2 1 1 King's J. W. Bakewell 1 C. E. Graves manuel 2 } 9 3rd Trinity 2 16 Emmanuel 3 2 H. T. Norton 2 T. G. Bonney 2 Em :3 Corpus 2 10 Trinity Hall 3 17 1st Trinity 5 3 R. J. Ellis 3 A. G. Cane 18 Sidney 2 4 H. H. Cochrane 4 F. C. Wace 41st Trinity 4 } 11 Caius 2 5 Catharine 12 Pembroke 2 19 L. Margaret 4 I 5 J. W. Horne 5 G. Richardson 13 Clare 2 20 1st Trinity 6 r 6 C. Tay10r 6 E. W. Bowling 6 Queens' } 7 W. Covington 7 A. Mal'shall 7 Christ's 2 14 2nd Trinity 2 21 Downing W. H. Green (st1'ohe) W. P. Hiern (st1'oke) F1'iday, May 11. A. F. Q. Bros (cox.) A. F. Torry (cox.) FIRST DIVISION.

The following also rowed in one or more races: H. 1 :.II'dTrinity 7 1st Trinity 2 13 Jesus } 8 Pembroke 14 Clare } Watney, F. G. Maples, H. Radcliffe, J. Musgrave, W 2 1st Trinity . 'rrinity Hall 9 Caius J ] 5 2nd Trinity R. Fisher, and S. Raslam. 3 l L. Margaret 10 Christ's 16 Sidney The fourth boat having been challenged for its place 4 [j Emmanuel 11 Trinity Hall 2 17 1 st Trinity 3 by the Peter house Second Boat, the following crew rowed 6 Corpus 12 Magdalene 18 Et. Peter's a successful time race. 19 L. Margaret 2} 1 A. G. Cane 6 F. G. Maples 2 T. Moss 7 S' Radcliffe 20 King's 3 J. Snowdon S. Haslam (stroke) SECOND DIVISION. 4 W. Charnley R. Bower (cox.) 1 King's 9 L. Margaret 3 16 Emmanuel 3 t 5 J. Musgrave 2 Corpus 2 10 Trinity Hall 3 17 Sidney 2 J 11 Caius 2 18 1 st Trinity 5 The Lady Margaret Sculls for Freshmen 3 Emmanue12 were 4 Catharine 12 Pembroke 2 19 1st Trinity 6 on Friday, May 25. There were four competitors, the [) 1st Trinity 4 13 2nd Trinity 2 } 20 L. Margaret 4 } winner being J. W. Bakewell. � 6 Christ's 2 f 14 Clare.2} 21 Downing The Pearson and Wright Sculls were rowed on Saturday, 7 Queens' 15 Jesns 2 May 26, with the following result: 8 3rd Trinity 2 FIRST RAClE. TIME R..lCB. 1 C. F. Roe 1 A. J. Finch Saturday, May 12. 2 F. Andrews 2 C. F. Roe FIRST DIVISION. 3 A. J. Finch 3 J. W. Bakewell lIst Trinity 8 1st Trinity 2 15 Clare} 4 J. W. BakewellJ 2 3rd Trinity 9 Caius } 16 Jesus Won by A. J. Finch; C. F. Roe, second. 3 'I.'rinity Hall 10 Christ's 17 1st Trinity 3 4 L. Margaret 11 Trinity Hall 2 18 St. Peter's The following is the result of the races during the present 5 Emmanuel 12 Magdalene} 19 King's term. It will be seen that our College Boat kept its plac� 6 Corpus � 13 Sidney 20 L. Margaret 2 throughout. 7 Pembroke 5 14 2nd Trinity Thttrtday, May 10. SECOND DIVISION. FIaST DIVISION. 8 3rd Trinity 2 15 Clare 2 } 1 3rd Trinity 1 L. Margaret 2 8 Caius } 15 2nd Trinity 2 Corpus 2 9 L. Mal'garet 3 16 Sidney 2 2 Trinity Hall } 9 Pembroke 16 Sidney 3 Emmanue12 10 Trinity Hall 3 17 Emmanuel 3 31st Trinity 10 Christ's 17 1st Trinity 3 4 } 18 Margaret Catharine 11 Cains 2 1st Trinity 5 4 L. 11 Trin. Hall 2 18 St. Peter's 5 Christ's 2 12 2nd Trinity 2 19 L. Margaret 4- 5 Emmanuel 12 Magdalene 19 L. Mal'garet 2 6 1st Trinity 4 } 13 Pembroke 2 t 20 1st Trinity 6 6 1 st Trinity 2 13 Clare 20 King's 7 Queens' 14 Jesus 2 j 21 Downing 7 Corpus J 14 Jesus J OU?' Ohronicle. 191 190 Our Oht·onicle. y Challenge Cup has been won this term Monday, May 14. The Compan vate H. Ashe. The same gentleman has also won FIRST DIVISION. by Pri Cup which is given annually for competition by the lIst Trinity 7 Corpus } 15 Jesus the winners of the Challenge Cup during the year. 2 3rd Trinity 8 Caius 16 Clare } three Officers' Pewter has been won by Private Boultbee. 3 Trinity Hall 9 1st Trinity 2 17 J st rrrinity 3 The of the Company who is among the selected 4 L. Margaret 10 Christ's 18 St. Peter's 'The only Member } at Wimbledon is Corporal Roe. 5 Emmanuel 11 Trinity Ha112 19 King's to represent the Battalion 6 Pembroke 12 Sidney 20 L. Margaret 2 13 Magdalene 1 This year has been on the whole a very flourishing year matches began 14 2nd Trinity f for C ricket in the College; the First Eleven

SECOND DIVISION. with 25. St. John's v. Perfect Cures. Won by St. John's 1 L. Margaret 2 9 L. Mal'garet 3 16 Clare 2 } April and Mr. Skrimshire 2 Corpus 2 10 Caius 2 17 Emmanuel 3 by 6 runs only, Mr. Torry scored 60, 3 Emmanuel 2 , 11 TI'inity Hall 3 } 18 1st Trinity 5 33. v. Score, St. John's 4 Christ's 2 f 12 2nd Trinity 2 19 1st TI'inity 6 April 26. St. John's K. T. A's. scored 52, 5 Catharine } 13 Jesus 2 20 L. Margaret 4 } 217, K. T. A's 100. In this match Mr. Lloyd 6 Queens' 14 Pembroke 2} 21 Downing Mr. Hey 29, Messrs. Almack and Pitman 28 each. 7 1st Trinity 4 15 Sidney 2 May 1. St. John's v. Clare. St. John's 40 and 77, of 8 3rd Trinity 2 J which Mr. Taylor made 22. Clare 51 and 27 for one wicket. Tueiday, May 15. May 12. St. John's v. Ciphers. St. John's 143, Mr. FIRST DIVISION. Skrimshire scoring a3, Mr. Souper 22. Ciphers 166. lIst Trinity 7 Caius 14 Magdalene May 17. St. John's v. Ashley. St. John's 179 for 2 3rd Trinity 8 Corpus } 15 Jesus 9 wickets, Mr. Lloyd scoring 62, Mr. Osborne 24, Mr. 3 Trinity Hall 9 1st Trinity 2 16 1st Trinity 3 } Son per 23, Mr. Skrimshire 21. Ashley 147. 4 L. Margaret 10 Christ's 17 Clare May 18. St. Johu's v. University bar Trinity. Uni­ 5 Emmanuel II Sidney 18 St. Peter's } versity 398. St. John's 24 for 1 wicket. 6 Pembroke ] 2 Trinity Hall 2 19 L. Margaret 21 13 2nd Trinity } 20 King's f May 19. St. John's v. Perambulators. St. John's 142, of which Mr. Lloyd scored 37, Mr. Tarry 29, not out. SECOND DIVISION. Perambulators 170 for 5 wickets. 1 King's 8 1st Trinity 4 15 Pembroke 2 ) May 23 and 24. St. John's v. Trinity. Trinity 80 and 2 Corpus 2 9 L. M al'garet 3 16 Emm anuel 2 J 206. St. John's 392, Mr. Lloyd 90, Mr. Bennett 70, 3 Christ's 2 }? 10 Ca ius 2 17 Clare 2 4 Emm,n'''" 11 2nd Trinity 2 18 1st Trinity 5 } Mr. Souper 42, Mr. Tarry 28, Mr. Pitman 27, Mr.Osborne 26, Mr. Cotterill 23. 5 Queens' 12 Trinity Hall 3 J 9 L. \1 argal'et 4} May 26. St. John's v. Caius. St. John's 135 and 126 6 Catharine ]3 Jesus 2 20 1st Trinity G 7 3rd Trinityf 2 j 14 Sidney 2 21 Downing for 9 wickets. Mr. Carpmael 27, Mr. Souper 34 and 28, Mr. Hey 21, Mr. Bennett 13 and 34, Mr. Boultbee 25. Wednesday, May 16. Caius College 102. FIRST DIVISION. May 30. First Eleven with broomsticks, v. Crews of the lIst Triuity 8 Caius 15 1st Trinity 3 first two boats with bats. First Eleven 59 and 36 for 2 3rd Trinity 9 1st Trinity 2 } L6 Jesus 8 wickets. Mr. Pitman 22, Mr. Almack 20. First two boats Trinity Hall 10 Christ's 3 17 St. Peter's 185. Mr. BalTett 49, Mr. Carpmael 40, Mr. Hodgson, 23. 4 L. Margaret 11 Sidney 18 Clare May 31. St. John's v. Kings'. King's 167. St. John's 5 Emmanuel ]2 2nd Trinity ] 9 King's 109, of which Mr. Pitman scorcd 24, Mr. Almack 19, Mr. 6 Pembroke 13 Trinity Hall 2 20 L. Margar'et 2 Lee Warner 18, not out. 7 Corpus 14 Magdalene 192 Our Clwonicle.

The Second Eleven matches began with April 18 v. Sidney College. St. John's 1 65, of which Mr. Bennett made 51. Sidney 138. v. ' April 21. Ciphers. St. John s 103, of which Mr. Forbe. scored 29. Ciphers 126. May 5. v. Corpus College. St. J ohn'8 49 and 38 2 wickets. Corpus 64. May 9. v. Trinity Second Eleven. Trinity 118. John's 56 and 58 for 9 wickets. May. 19. v. Queens' College. St. John's 132 and THE CHARACTER OF HENRY VIII. for 2 wickets. Mr. Almack 29, Mr. Congreve 20, Mr. Carpmael 20, not out. Queens' 132. It was th ..,·o+�w_ a tie on the first innings. THE most careless observer cannot be blind to the fact that May 23. v. St. Catharine's. St. Catharine's 63. the present time is an age of great and startling dis­ John's 243, of which Mr. Lee Warner scored 77, covery, and rapid advance in the pursuit of truth. Even Inglis 44. those sciences, which like logic, metaphysics, and mathematics, had attained some measure of completeness a century ago, are now pursued with greater vigour and more success; while others have started into being, or been changed from a few hast.y and uncertain generalizations to the assured certainty of deductive truth. Consider for instance the pro­ The Head Mastership of Shrewsbury School having b gress in physiology, botany, and in short all natural science. vacant by the resignation of the Rev. B. H. Kennedy, D.D., Geology and chemistry cannot be said to have even had any the Master and Seniors have nominated as his successor existence; it is only within the last two or three years that Rev. H. VV. Moss, B.A. Those who are acquainted Tyndall has laid a sure foundation for the science of thermo­ with Mr. Moss's University distinctions will be tics, while comparative philology and social statics are as yet conceive but very partially, residents alone will fully but in their infancy, and promise large results. And I dare stand, and that perhaps not as yet, the loss that the CoIl not even except theology from the list of those branches will sustain by his removal. of human knowledge, in which the progress of the years is leading us to purer, wider and nobler views. "For I doubt not thro' the ages one unceasing purpose runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns." Why then is history to be the only exception to this law of universal advance? Since our knowledge of the present and the future is ever increasing, why should we not be able to survey with a truer appreciation aud a livelier interest the � �vents of the past? I venture to assert that history too has had Its share of triumphs and success. Within the last few years . Nlebuhr, Arnold, Mommsen and Merivale have altered the Whole aspect of the history of Rome, while Thirlwall and Grote have revolutionised our ideas on the affairs of Greece. In English history it is the same; Mr. Hepworth Dixon, and his yet more able successor Mr. Spedding, have scattered for ever the cloud of infamy that hung over the fair fame of VOL. v. 0