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WITH WHICJH IS liMC0I\POJ\^TED JIoJs£HOLD''Wbl^S ^ ftM*»-««^ SATURDAY, JULY 31, 1875.

^mmtimmmmmmmtmmsmmimmmimmti^S''..^mmmt for myself, may easUy seem tedious to HALVES. those who listen to me. My patron at BY JAMES PAYN, Richmond, tlien, finding that I could LOST SIR MASSINGBEHD," " . reside no longer under his roof with any AT HEB MEECY," &C. &C. pleasure to myself, by reason of the public dislike with which I was regarded, and at THB STORY OF UNCLE ALEC. - the same time fiUed with personal grati­ WHEX, after dinner that evening, we tude towards me for having rid him oi so were all assembled in the drawing-room, dangerous a neighbour as Redman, pro­ Mrs. Raeburn, adopting the style of the cured me employment elsewhere. A cousin sister to Scheherazade in the Arabian of his had emigrated to Peru, where, in the Nights, thus addressed her .guest and neighbourhood of Cuzco, iie had a large brother-in-law: grazing farm, where herds of cattle were "Mr. Alexander, if you have nothing reared, chiefly for the supply of bulls for better to do to-night, I hope you will not the Lima bull-ring, and this gentleman refuse to relate what happened to you being in need of an English steward, after quitting Richmond." Mr. Pittsburg recommended me for the "By all means, my dear madam," situation. I gladly acceptod his offer, | returned he, good-naturedly, "and the and taking my credentials with me, I more readily since it will give me the traveUed by way of Panama to Lima, and opportunity to relate the history of a thence on mule-back, the only means' little present or two, which I have brought of transit across the Cordillera of the with me for the acceptance of my dear Andes. In that district inns are (or friends here, and which would have but were at that period) utterly unknown, but little value save for the story which the most unbounded hospitality is on every attaches to them." han^ to be met with. If each householder Mrs. Raeburn's countonance, which had had been my brother, like yourself, Mark, risen at the word "present," here feU I could not have been received vrith greater again, for "association" was not so at­ kindness. The magnificence of the monn­ tein scenery, the glorious climate, the rich­ tractive to her practical mind as intrinsic ness of the pasture lands, the fertility of the worth; yet she contrived to say, in her ravines and vaUeys, and, above aU—though highly principled way, that nothing had my then ignorance of Spanish placed me been farther from her mind than the at a great disadvantege in this respect—the personal advantege of herself or of those legends of past greatness and splendour belonging to her, in making her request, that environ almost every locality in the and that it had been suggested to her country of the Incas, gave to every day solely by the natural interest which she of my journey th^ aspect of a* gorgeous felt in Mr. Alexander's wanderings. dream. In the recesses of that Sierra, " You are very good to say so, madam," as doubtless you all have heard, lay con­ returned the old man, with a bow, " and I cealed the inexhaustible and far-famed wiU not so ill repay you as to linger over treasures of Peru." that part which, whatover ite attractions jiCJSi m^. 4 VOL. XIV. S48 ^ X

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" And has nobody found them yet ? " darkness. Nay, I can tell you one crime inquired Mrs. Raeburn, pertinently. of my own knowledge, which was com- "Some have been found, madian, hub mitted upon a .man, himself a Spaniard, most of them wUl doubtless remain undis­ and from the Ups of whose son I myself covered for aU time. The fact of their heard it. There was a certain poor man, existence was in each oase intrusted to as named Don,Pedro Giron, who was a phy­ few peraons as possitie, and those persons sician, and who, quite contrary to the usual being poor Indians, whose lives—entirely habit of his countrymen, had endeared at the mercy of their Spanish masters— himself to the Indians by acte of benevo­ have too often been sacrificed, when their lence and the gratuitous practice of his secret perished with them." art; and having by his skill saved a young "What on earth did they go burying Indian boy from death, the grateful father their money for, instead of putting it in disclosed to his benefactor the existence the bank ? " inquired the attorney, whose of a certein mine in Pinco. The Spanish historical knowledge was by no means on riceroy envying him his newly-acquired a par with his commercial experience. wealth, cast him into prison, upon some "WeU, Mark, there were two reasons. groundless charge of fomenting rebeUion In the first place, the Indian belief in a among the natives, and refused to forward place of future rewards and punishments, his appeal to the Spanish king, even combined with their loyalty, led to the though he offered to give him a bar of burial of vast treasures along with their pure sUver daily while the ship went from dead princes. Moreover, the vast wealth of Callao to Europe and back, a voyage that the temples had been in many cases hidden lasted at that time six months. The in a simUar manner, in order to escape tyrant, however, overreached himself by the cupidity of the Spaniards. Even the his own cruelty, since Don Pedro died mouths of sUver mines were stopped up, under the sufferings inflicted on him, and and all traces of their existence done away never disclosed the whereabouts of the with, so that the hated conquerors should source of his wealth." reap no advantage from them; nor could the " And what became of it eventually ? pain of torture nor the fear of death wring I mean the mine," inquired Mrs. Raeburn. the secret from those who held it. The " Was it ever discovered ? " Spanish yoke had not been thrown off at "It was never publicly made known, the time of my arrival, and I could madam," answered brother Alec, drily, teU you tales, dear madam," said brother "though I have seen it with these eyes." Alec, addressing Mrs. Raeburn, gravely, A total silence followed upon this state­ " of such fiendish cruelty and oppression ment ; even volatUe John Raeburn ap­ inflictod by these foreign conquerors, as peared f ascinatod by the attraction of his would cause you not only to abhor them uncle's words and manner ; while the rapt as the fiend himself, but to regard the attention which his hostess bestowed upon system under which alone such deeds were them would have been a compliment to the possible—that of slavery—as hateful in the best talker in Europe. sight of God and man." " There is more than one curious story It was evident enough that " Uncle connected with that Pinco mine," con­ Alec" was greatly moved, so Mrs. Rae­ tinued brother Alec, as though in acknow­ burn, instead of debating the mattOr, ledgment of our interest in the topic, which she doubtless felt much impelled to "less widely known than that connected do, framed what she conceived to be a con- with poor Pedro Giron. A certain Fran­ cUiatory reply, as follows: ciscan monk, who was a gambler, had "Well, well, Mr. Alexander, I have no done some good serrice to a native, who, doubt there is something to be said on in return, presented him with a large both sides of the question." bag of sUver ore; His cupidity was at '' I can toU you what is to be said on once excited, and taxing the Indian with one side, madam," continued Uncle Alec, the knowledge of a concealed mine, he be­ stomly; "that between the time of the sought him to let him behold it, promising Incas and the year of Liberty in 1828— the most solemn secrecy, and that he would that is, in three hundred years—the native never • revisit it upon his own account. population of Peru was reduced by five The Indian assentod, and accompanied by mil linns of souls, in consequence of their two others, blindfolded the monk, and compulsory mine serrice and its hideous carried him up by night into the moun­ conditions of stervation, stripes, and tains, where he eventuaUy showed him a td: =:JP :^I3 CluuAee Dickena.] HALVES. [July 31,1876.] 411

subterranean gallery sparkling with sUver gentle apologetic tone, " but Fato had long ore. On his return the cunning monk separated me from the object of my boyish loosened his beads one by one, and dropped passion. I felt no sting of conscience, them on the road, with the intention of cousin Gertrude, when I married my Indian retracing it by means of them; but in the bride." morning the Indian returned witii a whole " Indian bride ! " ejaculated Mre. Rae­ handful of them, and the significant re­ burn, like an echo, shocked. " Were such mark, 'Good father, you have dropped matohes usual in Peru, Mr. Alexander ? " your breriary;' so that he had to keep " Unhappily, madam, they were not. his word in spite of himself." This girl, who had the blood of the " And may I ask, dear Mr. Alexander," greatest of the Incas in her veins, would observed our hostess, in her most con­ not by some have been deemed worthy to ciliatory manner, "how it was that you be allied to a pennUess adventurer like •yourself contrived to gain admission to myself, who chanced to be of European this wondrous mine ? " descent." Brother Alec here grew very grave. " Then this young woman was not pen­ " Indeed, madam, I fear I must keep nUess ? " remarked Mrs, Raeburn simply; that secret, as poor Don Pedro kept his, " that, of coursQ, made the match much inriolable. The circumstances, too, were, less unequal," after all, of a privato nature, and had no " Yes, madam; it made it a stUl greator such striking features about them as be­ condescension on her side. I was but a longed to the cases I have mentioned." rich man's steward, weU-to-do indeed by " There was a woman at the bottom of that time, but whose means, beside those it, I'll lay ten pounds!" cried the attorney, which Inez Nusta could command, were boisterously. The pr^ence of his brother contemptible indeed. When I married at the dinner-table had enabled him to her, however, I am thankful to say, I knew make more free with the sherry than was not of their existence. I had heard that usually possible; thou^, on the other hand she was descended from the noblest famUy —perhaps out of the fear of losing that in Peru, and one which had at one time relative's good opinion—the brandy bottle been ite rulera, but I Uttle suspected that had not made ite appearance at dessert. she was their heiress. Her father saw me " Come, Alec, I can see by your face that woo and win her, like a man of honour, I have hit the blot," though I was of the white-skinned race, In Peru backgammon was probably un­ and when I married her, he, out of grati­ known, and the metaphor thus drawn tude, disclosed to me that he owned the from that amusement may therefore have silver mine in Pinco, and had inheritod been uninteUigible to one from whose those buried treasures of the Huatenay, memory the fireside games of his own the knowledge of whose hiding-place had country must long ago have faded out. enteUed deatii and torture on so many of Over Alec's brow passed the first cloud his race," that I had seen shadow it, as he replied: "Would it be a breach of confidence. "There was no blot in the case, Mark, Alec, to teU us what was the Huatenay ? " I am thankful to say; though you are inquired the attorney, his native humour, right in so far that a woman was con­ which stUl occasionaUy manifested itself cerned in it—the brightost and loveliest in spite of his wife's depressing sway, creature that ever blessed earth with her being doubtless stimulated by these dis­ presence, and who, having departed from closures of his brother's prosperity. it, has robbed life, for me, of all ite "The Huatenay is a river, beneath charms," whose channel, it had always been whis­ His voice had such an exquisite pathos pered, lay somewhere hidden the golden in it, infinitely more touching from its fittings of the Temple of the Sun at Cuzco, welling through those white-bearded Ups, which the Spaniards had found stripped that I heard John Raeburn mutter pitifully, of its splendours. They had plundered "Poor old buffer!" and saw the tears rise the shrine of Pachacamac, in the neigh­ in Gertrude's eyes. Alec, whose glance bourhood of Lima, of ite enormous riches, had turned towards her whUe he spoke the contributions of ten generations of the last sentence, as though to a quarter worshippers; they had stripped ite doors where he could count on sympathy, saw of their golden plates, and its ceUings of them also. "I had loved before, it is their precious stones, and out of ite sUver true," continued he, addressing her in a omamente had even paved a road for 4= '-r \

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mUes for the triumphant passage of their " Are you sure it is reaUy gold ? " asked riceroy; but with the temple at Cuzco Mra, Raeburn, with a voice that fairly the natives had been beforehand with trembled with emotion, as she took the them. Ite ^central door and massive cor­ largest of the images into her hand, nice were said to have been of virgin "I am quite sure, madam," answered gold; the Sacred Sun, in whose honour brother Alec, smUing. " If it were coun­ the edifice had been reared, was made of terfeit, I should not venture, as I do, to the same metal, studded with emeralds beg your acceptance of it." and turquoises, and shone like its name­ " Why, this must be worth a matter of sake in the firmament; its vases of gold, a hundred pounds ! " ejaculatod Mrs, Rae­ supposed to represent the tears shed by burn, forgetting, in her intense apprecia­ that luminary, stood filled with sacrificial tion of ite value, to acknowledge the gift first-f mite on its costly floor; but none of iteelf, these ever gladdened the greedy eyes of " I don't know as to that, madam," Pizarro or De Castro," returned he, " I only know that you are To behold'Mrs. Raeburn at that moment very welcome to it. Brother Mark, here was a commentary on the speaker's words is one for you, which I am sure you wiU such as is rarely indeed supplied to text. value for my sake, even if you have no I had somewhere read of a miser, whose love for antiquities. Cousin Gertrude, pulse would rise to fever quickness at the this is but a Uttle one, but its size does not mention of any large sum of money; and typify the affection with which I regard it really seemed, to judge by the eager you for your dear mother's sake. I only and hungry looks of our hostoss, that he wish I had brought more, that no oue here had found his parallel in her. At the should have been empty-handed," and the mention of the silver mines her counte­ old man looked at John and me with quite nance had exhibited a force of expression a distressed air, of which I should have deemed it utterly " I am sure you have been more than incapable, but wbile she listened to the generous enough already," observed our catalogue of these golden splendours, it hostess, regarding her costly present much had become positively eloquent with ra: as some devotee might have done, in whose parity and greed. Uncle Alec, how­ eyes it had been a genuine divinity, " It ever, saw nothing of this; his thoughts is not to be expected that you should have were rapt in the topics on which he was burthened your personal luggage with discoursing, and his eyes, fixed straight many such articles. You turned most before him, were eridently regarding a far of the property of this kind into a more other scene than that around him. He portable form, doubtless, before you left looked up, like one aroused from a dream, the land of the Incas ? " when Mrs, Raeburn inquired, with earnest " Indeed I did not, madam ; long before vehemence: I quitted Cuzco there was happily no occa­ "And do you mean to say, dear Mr, sion for any man to conceal the wealth Alexander, that you yourself beheld these which he had honestly come by. The wondrous treasures, and handled aU those bulk of what I possessed was in bars of precious things with your own fingers ? " silver, for which, as I was told, I could " I handled some, madam, and saw them get a larger sum at the Mint in London all," replied he, quietly, "If proofs be than from the bankers in Lima." needed of what indeed may easUy seem to "And what an enormous weight it be a gorgeous romance, I possess them must have been, Mr. Alexander ! " , here," He took from his pocket a leather " It was certainly very heavy, madam; bag, and out of it some articles carefully indeed, my chief difficulty lay in getting wrapped up in leather, " Here are three a strong-box to carry it, and sufficiently images of various size," said he, " yet very powerful tackle to convey it on board; litorally worth their weight in gold, since the ship was in deep water, and if a they are gold. Their workmanship is handle had broken away, or a chain not such as we are accustomed to admire snapped, I must have wished ' good-bye ' in Europe; yet I doubt not, independent of to what, even in Peru, was considered a their intrinsic worth, these weird fantastic considerable fortune." figures, so many ages old, would have a "But the handjes stood fast, and the value in the eyes of antiquarians equal to chains held, I trust, Mr. Alexander ? " the best products of Grecian or Italian " They did so, madam; and the box lies art." at my agents' in London." —-f JT Chailee Dickena.] ENGLISH CATHEDRALS, [July 31, 1875.] 413

Not another question did Mre. Raeburn nearer the river, she began the monastery put to her brother-in-law, after this interest­ there. Bishop Wilfrid, her great adviser, ing point had been so satisfactorUy settled; furnishing the plan. Three princesses but Gertrude, who sat beside him, had much were among her nuns, and Bede teUs us to ask concerning his Peruvian life, to she wore only woollen, ate only once a which he very willingly repUed. His day, except on the great festivals, and description of the counfa^ with ite splendid never returned to bed after the matins at scenery, its thickets of moU6 trees, its midnight. She died praying for the sisters noble fuschias covered with crimson flowere, of her order. Sixteen years after her its roadways carpeted with heliotropes and death her body was disinterred, placed bine and scarlet salrias, had a peculiar in an old Roman marble coffin found at charm for her, to whom the pleasures of Cambridge, and removed to Ely, where it the garden were an unfailing delight; nor wrought many miracles. did her interest faU when he spoke of his In 870, Hubba, the Dane, enraged at the duties at the cattle farm, and of his death of his brother Tulba at the sack of gradual acquisition of an independence. Peterborough, broke into the Etheldred's Presently he dropped his voice, so that monastory, slew all the monks and nuns, Gertrude alone could hear him, but in the stripped and burnt the church, and plun­ gentle and sympathising expression of her dered the town. When King Edgar re­ face, it was easy for me at least to read stored peace and united England, he be­ that he was discouraing of his Indian stowed lands and a charter on the monks bride, whom he had wooed in his far-back who restored Ely. He also gave them three youth, and won to find her a richer prize villages and an annual donation of "ten than all her unlooked-for wealth, only to thousand eel fishes," It was in the reign of lose her at last for ever. Brithnoth, the firet abbot of Ely, that he and his monks carried off by strategem from Durham church the incorrupt body of ENGLISH CATHEDRALS. St, Withburga, a younger sister of St, ELY. Etheldreda, and reintombed it at Ely, This THE old etymologists,, who were easily abbot was at last murdered by order of satisfied, decided that the name of this King Edgar's cruel widow, Elfrida, who island in the Cambridgeshire Fens was also assassinated her son-in-law Edward, derived from the number of eels in which at Corfe Castle, to make way for her own that damp comer of England abounded; son, Ethelred, but later and riper scholars have traced In the reign of Elsin, the second abbot, the word to the Saxon Hely (wiUow), the the church at Ely was largely enriched by indigenous tree of the last home of Here- the great gifts of an unhappy Saxon noble­ ward the Wake and Saxon freedom. man named Leof win, who, in a fit of passion, The first monastery at Ely was founded had beaten his mother to death. His by that illustrious Saxon princess and eldest son, by the Pope's adrice, became saint, Etheldreda, daughter of a king of a monk at Ely; and at the south side of the West Angles, who married a Saxon the church, which he enlarged, he built an nobleman, and had the Isle of Ely settled altar to the Virgin, with a jewelled throne on her in dower. On his death Ethel­ and altar, and an image as large as life. dreda married Prince Egfried, son of It was in this abbot's time that Duke Oswig, King of Northumberland. After Brithnoth, son of King Edgar's bravest a year at court the princess resolved to chieftain, slain by the Danes after some abandon the world and her husband, and very hard fighting at Maldon, in Essex, entered the monastery of Coldingham. Im­ was buried at Ely. On his way to give portuned and pursued by her royal hus­ battle to " the proud invader," Brithnoth band, the queen took refuge on a cliff, and, had halted at Ramsey Abbey, in Hunting­ as Bede says, was preserved from her donshire, with his army, and expressed his pursuers by a sudden inundation of the readiness to dine. The abbot sent to say sea. It is also said that one day, as she that dinner would be laid for the duke slept in a by-road, her pUgrim steff, stuck and seven friends, in the ground beside her, took root and " Tell my lord abbot," said the duke, budded. Once established at Ely, the pithily, "that I can't dine without my men, princess resolved to rebuild an old church any more than I can fight without them," of King Ethelbert's foundation at Craths- And, waving his hand to the drums, he dune, but finding a convenient eminence marched on to Ely, where he was sump-

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tuously and ungrudgingly feastod, and gUded pins, the stole, and the maniple elected an honorary member of the chap­ were perfect and entire, to the wonder of ter. The duke, generous as he was brave, the always wondering monks. gave the abbey on leaving fifteen manors, Leofsin, the fifth abbot of Ely, made a thirty marks of gold, and twenty pounds rule to admit no monks who were not of sUver, on condition that if he f eU against men of family and learning, so that the the Danes they should bring off his body monastery of the Fens soon became very and bury it at Ely. Then, granting the hos- refined and exclusive. The abbot of Ely piteble church investiture of the lands, by was at this time one of the three great the gift of two gold crosses, two slips of his abbots who held the office of chancellor jeweUed robe, and a pair of finely-wrought for four alternate months every year. It gloves, he commended himself to their was usual with King Canute to celebrate prayers and pushed on his banners for the here the annual feast;,of the Purification of coast. The Danes carrying off his head the Virgin. In his first passage hither by in triumph before they retired to their wator, attended by Emma, his queen, and ships, the monks who came for the body his nobles, the king was standing up in modeUed a head of wax. The duke's bones the boat, watching the church which they were found by Mr. Bentham, the histo­ were approaching, when, from a great dis­ rian of Ely, in 1769, in the north waU of tance across the mere, they heard the the choir, but the head, as he predicted, voices of the choir singing their canonical was missing. The large bones proved the Hours and praising God with one accord. old Saxon historian to be right, who de­ The king, enchanted with the harmony, scribed Brithnoth of Northumberland as instantly broke into extempore Saxon " Viribus robustus, corpore maximus." He song, calling on his nobles to join chorus. must have measured six feet six ; and his The monks of Ely long preserved this collar-bone was found to have been cloven song, of which the first stanza alone has by a Danish sword or axe. The duke's been preserved: widow, the Lady Elfleda, also gave a Dulce contraverunt, monachi m Ely, manor and lands to Ely church, together Dum Oanutus Rex, navigaret prope ibi, with a gold chain and a curtein, worked Nunc, milito, navigate proprius ad terram, with the most memorable acts of her stel- Et simul audiamus monachorum harmonium. wart husband's life. It was on this occasion that the poetical At the fatal battle of Assendun, in Essex, king renewed the charter of Edgar before where the Danes decimated the army of the high altar and the tomb of Etheldreda. Edmund Ironside, several of the Ely On another visit the king found the monks, who had come to pray for the river frozen and the way to Ely dan­ king's army, perished, and the relics of gerous. Canute, wilful as kings generally St. Wendreada, which they had carried are, declared he would cross in a sledge with them, fell into the hands of Canute. by Soham mere, if any one would lead the Of Abbot Leofric, who succeeded Leof- way. Brithmer, a sturdy fat native of the win, a curious legend is. relatod. Archbishop Isle, at once harnessed ^his^ledge and set Wulsten, the favoured minister of Kings off, followed promptly by the king, who Ethelred, Edmund, and Canute, coming laughingly told his somewhat alarmed one day to Ely to pray to the saints, was re­ courtiers that a slight, active feUow like ceived in solemn procession, and was stend­ himself could surely go wherever such a ing at the head of the monks, leaning fat carl could lead. on his pastoral steff, when it suddenly Emma, Canute's queen, who frequently sank several feet in the ground. Struck accompanied her husband to this winter with the omen, the good prelato pro­ feast among the Fens, was fond of Ely, nounced it to be the evident wiU of and gave the abbey many costly presents. heaven that his body should eventually Among others are especiaUy mentioned a rest in that very spot, and exclaimed, in purple cloth, worked with gold and set in the words of Darid: " This shaU be my jewels, for St. Etheldreda; silken cover­ rest for ever; here wiU I dweU." And in ings for the other sainte; a green paU, that very spot he was buried in June, adorned with gold plates, for the altar on 1023. In 1102, when the east end of the chief festivals; and a paU bordered with cathedral was rebnUt, his body was re­ fine red linen, edged with gold fringe. On moved and the coffin opened. The saint Canute's death, Earl Godwin, eager for himself had decayed, but the cassock, with Harold and the Danish succession, seized the archiepiscopal paU fastened to it with Prince Alfred, the son of King Ethelred, csez ^ =^ =?f» ^ charlea Dickena.] ENGLISH CATHEDRALS. [July 31,1876.] 415

who had a claim to the succession throuffh of the barons of the Exchequer, and his the Saxon line, put out his eyes, and sent son Richard treasurer. This same bishop the poor lad to the monastery at Ely, founded a hospital in Cambridge, which where he soon after died, and was buried eventually became St. John's CoUege. with due honoura at the west end of the Geoffrey Rodel, a friend of Beoket's, south aisle. Alfred's brother, the saintly and afterwards one of his persecutora, Confessor, was educated at Ely, where his was the unworthy Bishop of Ely in the parents had offered him to Gtod at the reign of Henry the Second. He repaired high alter, and it was a tradition with the the Etheldreda shrine, and buUt part of monks that the royal boy used to delight the cathedral tower. His successor, WU­ to sing the psalms and godly hymns liam Longchamp, was the prelato who actod among the chUdren in the cloister, and as regent for Richard the First during the always held the abbey in high regard. Crusades. He was finaUy driven to France Abbot WiUric, a kinsman of Edward the by John and the ba,rons, and died at Poic­ Confessor, disgraced himself by conveying tiera, but his heart was brought to Ely. to his brother Guthmund six estetes belong­ Bishop North wold, a good and charitable ing to the abbey, in order to qualify him man, who was also a judge in Eyre and an for marriage with a lady of rank who had ambassador, built the presbytory at Ely at rejected him as too poor and not worth an expense of five thousand three hundred forty hides of land. Overwhelmed with and fifty pounds, added a spire to the great shame at the reproaches of his monks, western tower, and rebuilt the episcopal Wilfric left the abbey and died broken­ palace. He was buried at the feet of Ethel­ hearted. dreda, and, when that shrine was demolished, After the Conqueror's defeat of Here- his effigy, being laid on Bishop Burnet's ward the Wake and the subjugation of tomb, passed in time for the effigy of that the Isle of Ely by the Normans, a fine bishop. of one thousand marks was leried on the Hugh de Balsham, a bishop electod in Ely monks, their treasure soon after con­ the very toeth of Henry the Third, brought fiscated, a Norman abbot appointed, and an action against the Master of the Temple eighty knighte' fees required from the in London for use of room^ in the Temple, abbey. Abbot Richard, tho tenth abbot, and recovered his rights with two hundred who feU into disgrace at court for thrust­ pounds coste. ing an impudent jester of the king's out The next bishop, John de Kirkely, of doore, completed the east end of Ely treasurer to King Edward the Firat, left cathedral, and removed the bodies of the his church at Ely the Bell Inn in Lon­ Saints Etheldreda, Sexburga, Ermenilda, don and nine cottages in Holbom, which and Withburga into the new church. afterwards became the town mansion of Richard was the last abbot of Ely. the bishops of Ely. The terms of bis will In the reign of Henry the First, Hervey, were that one thousand marks should be Bishop of Bangor, was appointed first paid to his executors for this bequest. Bishop of Ely, and obteined many pri­ Robert de Orford, a subsequent bishop, vileges for his diocese. His successor, spent fifteen thousand pounds at Rome in Nigeilus, got into trouble with King securing his election, and at his death Stephen, and had to pay a fine of three the Archbishop of Canterbury claimed his hundred marks by stripping the shrine of episcopal ring as due to him on the death St, Etheldreda, This shrine, the very pal­ of any of his suffragans. In the bishopric ladium of Ely, was shaped like a gable- of John Hotham, the central tower of Ely ended house and plated with silver gilt. fell at night, crushing the choirs; and the It shone with pearls and crystels, and was sacrist designed a new octegonal tower with bossed with emeralds, beryls, and topazes. dome and lantern, which was completed On one side of the shrine alone there were in twenty years, and .cost two thousand sixteen figures in relief, and more than two four hundred and six pounds ; the bishop hundred precious stones. Yet Nigellus completing the presbytery. He purchased was generous to the church when better for the see a vineyard, orchard, and several days came, and gave to Ely an alb, richly additional houses in Holbom. adorned with gold embroidered figures of A curious quarrel ensued between Thomas birds and beasts; an amice, set with jewels ; L'Isle, Bishop of Ely, in 1340, and Lady his court collar; and a cope, which bore Blanch Wake, of Huntingdonshire. It the proud appellation of " Gloria Mundi," was a dispute about boundaries, and On Henry's accession, NigeUus became one ended in a farmhouse of the lady's being 1= 416 [July 31,1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

burnt down, and one of her servants In Elizabeth's time the bishops of Ely murdered, by a reteiner of the bishop's. were cruelly robbed by the court. The The king seizing the bishop's temporalities, queen actually kept the see vacant eighteen the bishop fled to Avignon, where he got years, devoting some of the revenues, aU his enemies excommunicated, and soon of which she received, to reUeve the dis­ after died. The bishops of Ely at this tresses of the King of Portugal. She time held ton castles or manor-houses. also, by an Act enabling her to alienate Bishop Alcock, in 1486, finding the nun­ episcopal lands, seized manora and estates nery of St. Aldagund, in Cambridge, of the value of one thousand one hundred breaking every rule, dissolved it and and thirty-two pounds, paying for them turned it into Jesus College. by probably nominal gifts of parsonages Bishop Redman, who died at Ely House, impropriate to the value of one thousand Holborn, in the reign of Henry the one hundred and forty-four pounds, and Seventh, rebuilt St. Asaph cathedral, she compelled Bishop Heton to lease Ely which had been burnt down by Owen House in Holborn to Sir Christopher Glendower. It was the somewhat osten- Hatton. The queen's imperious letter, , tetious custom of this prelato in his threatoning to unfrock the bishop if he journeys at every town, if he halted even refused the lease, is not of altogether for an hour, to have a bell rung to summon certain authenticity, James the First the poor to partake of his charity. What said of Heton that most fat men, he a sure path to power the church was in noticed, preached lean sermons, but Heton the old times is strikingly proved by the larded his with learning. This good man career of Bishop West, the son of a Putney is buried at Ely, and Mr, Gough observes baker. He was chaplain to Henry the that his effigy presents the only instance Seventh, and was employed by Henry the of a cope, ornamented with figures of the Eighth in numberless embassies and nego­ saints, on an episcopal tomb lator than tiations, including the marriage of the the Reformation, After Heton came that Princess Mary to old Lewis XII., and the learned and good man, Bishop Andrews, great celebration of the Field of the Cloth a great favourite both of Elizabeth and of Gold. This bishop kept one hundred James, His epitaph at St, Saviour's, retainers, and relieved two hundred poor Southwark, in which he is fcaUed " the daily at his gato. He is buried at Ely, in universal bishop," begins: a beautiful chapel near the presbytery Great Andrews, who the whole vast sea did drsun built by himself. His motto, " Gratia Dei Of leammg, and distilled it in his brain ; sum quod sum," is carved on a moulding These pious drops are of the purest kind running round the whole chapel. Bishop Which trickled from the limbeck of his mind. Thirlby, in Queen Mary's reign, must have This worthy bishop was one of the been a gentle-hearted man, since he shed principal translators of the Bible. He toars when he was compelled to publicly once entertained King James for three degrade Archbishop Cranmer before he days at an expense of three thousand went to the. stake; however, he grew pounds, and Milton wroto a Latin elegy harder as the persecution went on, and on his death. In this bishop's Articles of sent three Protostants to the flames. Queen Inquiry (1611) he is anxious to know EUzabeth sent him to the Tower for re­ whether the ministers referred to wear fusing to take the oath of supremacy. He wrought night-caps abroad and cut or seems to have been a learned, good-natured, pinkt apparel, and whether they renounce pleasant man, and when the lieutenant oi coat and cassock to flaunt in doublet and the Tower, to his surprise, found five hun­ hose and light-coloured stockings, dred French crowns stuffed in his purse and doublet, and asked him why he carried Christopher Wren's uncle, Matthew so much gold about with him, he replied, "I Wren, was Bishop of Ely ; he attended always love to have my friends about me," Prince Charles to Spain as chaplain, and He was afterwards released, and sent with was high in the confidence of that weak Boxall, his archdeacon, and Tunstel, the monarch, who, it is said, always sent ex-bishop of Durham, to live in honourable him all anonymous lettera written to durance with good Archbishop Parker at WhitehaU reflecting on his conduct. For protesting against his expulsion from the Lambeth, where they were kindly treatod. House of Lords, Wren was imprisoned He lived in that calm imprisonment ten fourteen yeara in the Tower, scorning all years, and was then decently buried in CromweU's offers to release him. Lord Lambeth parish church. Clarendon speaks of his great learning. =r c&= Ouurlee Dickena.] ENGLISH CATHEDRALS. [July 31, 1876.] .417

The texte of his sermons seem to have piece of Gothic architecture, considered been ofton eccentric. When it was proposed by many judges to be almost unrivaUed. to drain the Fens, a plan which it was It was began in Bishop Hotham's time thought would be. injurious to Cambridge, (1321), a monk being overaeer of the he preached on the text, "Let judgment works, and the sub-prior the architect. It run down Uke watore and rightoousness was completed in 1349. It is a tradition at like a mighty stream." And on his return Ely that John de Wisbech, the overseer, from the marriage trip to Spain he took a when digging the foundation with his line from the Psalms, " Abyssus Abyssum own hands, discovered a brass pot fuU of vocat" ("OnedeepcaUethanother"). This money, which he devoted to the work­ bishop generously built a chapel for Pem­ men's wages. It took twenty-eight yeara broke Hall at his own charge, endowed it and thirteen weeks in building, and is with a Cambridgeshire manor, and left it thought to have been teken as a pattern all his gUt plato. During his dreary con­ for King's College chapel at Cambridge; finement in the Tower this tme Cavalier though, as PuUer says, if that be so, the regularly institutod and coUated to aU pre­ child hath outgrown the father. If this ferments in his diocese, though of courae chapel had been placed at the east end, without the power to complete the gift by Ely cathedral would have been the largest the somewhat essential fact of possession. in England, The chapel is a hundred feet Bishop Gunning was an equally stout in length, forty-six in breadth, and sixty loyalist, and preached at Tunbridge, feet high in the inside. It has neither urging the congregation to contribute to piUara nor arches, and depends for ite the king's army. He wrote against the support entirely upon four single but­ Covenant, and read the English liturgy tresses at each side, and the double but­ all through the Commonwealth at Exeter tresses at the comers. There were ori­ House Chapel. He threatoned to rebuUd ginally, inside and outside this chapel, the choir at Ely, and left money to repave one hundred and forty-seven images, be­ it. Francis Turner, the next bishop, one sides small ones above the alter. Of the of the bishops who opposed James the thirty-two figures formerly niched in the Second, and yet refused to teke the oaths corner buttresses, not one is now left, to WUliam and -Mary, was turned off so ruthless were the image-breakera of his episcopal throne in consequence. His the Reformation and Commonwealth. The successor, the good and leamed Bishop Duke of Lancaster gave one of the win­ Patrick, ended the long controveray about dows of this chapel; and from the teble the Button usurpation of Ely House and of accounte we discover that the glass the London property of the see, which had paintera received sevenpence a day, the been built over during the Commonwealth, gold leaf costing eightpence the hundred. by accepting a fee farm-rent of one hun­ Several bishops were buried in this chapel, dred pounds a year. The library of Moore, and also John de Wisbech, the designer. the next bishop, was purchased by George Bishop Alcock's chapel ia disappointing, the Firet for six thousand guineas and considering the bishop was the comptroller given to the Univeraity of Cambridge. of the royal buildings toHenry the Seventh. Bishop Fleetwood is chiefly known for It is what architects call overcharged with haring one of his Whig sermons burnt open-work pinnacles, canopies, and heavy by the House of Commons in Queen pendants, that distract the eye from the Anne's reign, for which George the Firat general effect. There are a few niches, but afterwards rewarded him with the see of the statues are all gone, and the effigy of Ely. Bishop Butte, who had been chaplain the bishop has not escaped the destroyer. to George the Second, was a descendant The tomb is adorned with vine-leaves; and of the weU-known physician of King the bishop's funny emblem, two cocks sup­ Henry the Eighth. To Bishop Mawson, porting a mitre, is stUl preserved. A little who encouraged the draining of Ely, which statue of Henry the Seventh was discovered had been neglected, the cathedral owes the by Mr. Bentham behind one of the pinnacles. transfer of the choir to the presbytery at Bishop West's chapel, at the east end of the east end. He also paved the new choir the south aisle of the choir, is as beautiful with black and whito marble, and gave as Alcock's is tasteless. It is a little grotto several steined-glass windows. So much of sculpture, and crowded with niches. for the bishops. PuUer, in his Worthies, tells us that the One of the most beautiful spote in Ely mastor masons of James the First pro­ cathedral is the Lady chapel, a master­ nounced the work of this chapel to surpass

*T 418 [July 81,1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by that of Henry the Seventh's chapel in ele­ and outside a beautiful open stone balus­ gance and finish. Every inch of the waU trade, with light turrets, from whence the is covered with alto-rilievo, pedestals, roof rises. The whole was erected, with niches, or canopies, as if Piety and Wealth prayer and praise, in twenty years of the had joined together to heap money on this glorious and warlike reign of Edward the memorial of the dead. There are upwards Third. of two hundred niches, the canopies of In this EngUsh cathedral alone the which are oarved into a lace-work of geo­ bishop occupies the old abbot's seat, and metric ornament. The pendants of the the dean the prior's, Ely being the only ceiUng are ingeniously formed by angels abbey converted into a see. Mr. Bentham, holding the arms of the see and those of when the new choir was built under his Henry the Eighth. The bishop's humble superintendence, proved that the original motto, " Gratia Dei, sum quod suija," re­ east end of the cathedral, at the presby­ ferring to some outbreaks of his at the tery, was circular, after the old Byzantine university, and of which he repented, is *yp6- conspicuously displayed over the entrance The first great alteration in the plan of of the chapel and in several parts of the the cathedral, with its three rows of pUlars intorior. The bosses of the roof are orna- and arches one over the other, was first mentod with the arms of the see and the modified by Bishop Northwold, who added founder, masks of cherubs, and grotesque six arches to the building in the light designs, executed in white upon green and pointed style of Henry the Third. The blue grounds. Many of the medaUions are choir roof is formed of chalk, about five Raphaelesque and Holbeinesque; and the inches thick,'between fan-like ribs of free­ acanthus and the honeysuckle are fre­ stone. quently employed. Ely Porta, as the west gate of the cathe­ In Cromwell's time it was half resolved dral-close is called, was built by Prior to pull down the cathedral, and sell the Buckton in the reign of Richard the materials for the relief of sick and wounded Second, and therefore bears on its front soldiers and their widows and orphans,. the arms of the Confessor, who was The oldest part of Ely cathedral is, un­ Richard's patron saint. The prior held a fortunately, the part most injured. Part monthly court here, and it was also the of the Rufus and Henry the First work court of the abbey manors. The abbey, still stends in the eastern transept, but in the middle ages, boasted a prison, a the north-west angle of the north arm of court, a vineyard, an orchard, and awind- this transept fell in 1699, and was ruth­ mUl. The vineyard, as the old monkish lessly rebuilt by Wren, who inserted a Tus­ distich ran— can doorway, when, close by, the entrance Hs9C sunt Elyse, Lantema, Capella Marias, of the Lady's chapel was there to guide Ast molendinum, multum dans vinea vinum. him to a fitting model. The side aisle to The schoolmaster of the monastery kept the transept are peculiar to Ely, St. Mary's, a grammar school for five charity boys; Redcliffe, and Westminster Abbey. he celebrated divine serrice three days The domed octagon, which is a triumph a week in the chapel of the almonry, and of Gothic genius, and is known to be the three days in the chapel of the Virgin; work of Alan Walsingham, the sacristan, and also taught the junior brethren every in 1322, is as remarkable for ite strength day for an hour and a half. He was boarded as for its daring originality and magnifi­ and fed, and had an annual gown and cence. The Ught clustered piUars which seventeen shillings and fourpence in silver; support the eight arches and the lofty for performing serrice, twenty-six shillings and massive timber roof, have wreaths of and eightpence, seven monks' loaves, and flowers and foliage for capitals, and thero seven gallons of the best ale without are mutUated sitting figures over the froth. One chamber in the Ely infirmary keystones of the arches. The heads, upon was known as HeU, and was probably a which the canopies rest, represent Edward place of confinejnent for the refractory or the Third and his queen. Bishop Hotham, the insane. Monastic rooms were some­ Prior Cranden, the young priestly architect, times called Heaven and Paradise, The and the long-haired mastor mason. On number of monks at Ely was fixed by two capitals which support niches, the Bishop Northwold at seventy, but it seems principal events of St. Etheldreda's life seldom to have exceeded fifty. are representod in alto-rUievo. There is At the Dissolution, the possessions of an open carved balcony below the lantern. the monastery were estimated, according

" '». / cl= Charlea Dickena.] SCHOOL OF ART-NEEDLEWORK. [July 31,1875.] 419

to Speed, at one thousand three hundred The dirge of the wave, the note of the bu-d, and the and one pounds eight shillings and two priest's low tone were blent In the breeze that blew from the moorland, all laden pence. Nasmith, in his admirable edition with country scent; of Bishop Tanner's " Notitia Monastica," But never a thought of the new-mown hay tossing on sunny plains. thus sums up the spoil heaped together by Or of lilies deep in the wild wood, or roses gemming Henry the Eighth in his profiteble quarrel the lanes, with the Pope : " By the suppression of Woke in the hearts of the 'stem bronzed men who gathered around the grave, the greater houses and three hundred and Where lay the mate who had fought with them the eighty othera, Henry raised a revenue of battle of wind and wave. two hundred thousand pounds a year, be­ How boldly he steered the coble across the foaming sides sacking one hundred thousand pounds bar. in plate and jewels. By the one Act of When the sky was black to the eastward and the breakers white on the Scar ! 1548 he destroyed, at one stroke of the How his keen eye caught the squall ahead, how his pen, ninety colleges, one hundred and ten strong hand furled the sail, hospitals, and two thousand three hun­ As we drove o'er the angry waters before the raging gale! dred and seventy-four chantries and free How cheery he kept all the long dark night; and chapels. On the' other hand, he turned never a parson spoke thirteen droning and mischievous monas­ Good words, like those he said to ns, when at last teries into cathedrals, viz.: Canterbury, the morning broke! Winchester, Durham, Worcester, Roches­ So thought the dead man's comrades, as silent and sad they stood, ter, Norvrich, Ely, and Carlisle." Mr. While the prayer was prayed, the blessing said, and Nasmith decides that the religious houses, the dull earth struck the wood; before this fatal blow, held about a tenth And the widow's sob, and the orphan's wail, jarred through the joyous air; part of the landed property of England, How could the fight wind o'er the sea, blow on so and that their two hundred thousand fresh and fair ? How could the gay waves laugh and leap, landward pounds annual revenue, teking the rise o'er sand and stone. and value of land, represented two miUions While he, who knew and loved them all, lay lapped of our present money. in clay alone ? Ely, like Durham, has a QalUee, or But for long, when to the beetling heights the snow- porch, which Eustace, the fifth bishop, tipped billows roll. When the cod, and skate, and dogfish dart around rebuilt. It is one of the earliest speci­ the herring shoal; mens of the pointed style, and consists of When gear is sorted, and sails are set, and the merry two stories without windows, and on the breezes blow. And away to the deep sea-harvest the stalwart outside it is adorned with four rows of reapers go, arches and small marble pillars one above A kindly,sigh, and a hearty word, they will give to another. The traces of a roof on the him who lies Where the clover springs, and the heather blooms, north face of Ely tower prove the former beneath the northern skies. existence of a transept on that side; and it is a singular and unaccountable fact in the history of Ely cathedral, that no THE ROYAL SCHOOL OF ART- information exists as to the fall or de­ NEEDLEWORK. struction of this transept, although, as IN these schools an art is taught to poor Mr. Bentham supposes with reason, it gentlewomen that would almost make its could not have disappeared earlier than risitora wish to be poor gentlewomen, so the reign of Henry the Fifth or Sixth, and that they might be teught it, and get it the foundation of what we now see re­ done. There are beautiful colours, there maining was laid as late as the reign of are beautiful shades of coloura, there are Henry the Eighth. beautiful fabrics, beautiful designs, beau­ tiful modes, and treatments, and tex­ tures, and appliances; the gentlewomen THB FISHEBMAN'S FUNEEAL. approach their workroom through an en­ TJp on the breezy headland thefisherman's grave they trance railed off from the beautiful Hor­ made. ticultural Gardens at South Kensington; Where, over the daisies «nd dover bellfl, the birchen branches swayed; they pass by beautiful ferns, and mosses, Above us the lark was singing in the doudless sides aild grasses, as they descend an easy fiight of June, of steirs; and if perfection, together with And under the cliffs the billows were chanting their ceaseless tune: the deUght of it, can come from example, For the creamy line was ourving along the hsllow from tone, or intangible atmosphere, into shore, these schools perfection ought always Where the dear old tides were flowing that he would ride no more. to find ite way. As torms of the highest T X

-S*3 420 [July 31,1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by praise are the only fit torms in which worked upon each panel, that it is made as to speak of the decorative needlework rare as the apparel Petruchio said he would the pupils have exhibited, it may be go to Venice for, to do due honour to his at once set down that perfection is what Katharine's wedding-day. The leaves are the managers have aimed at; and that, in broad and bold; life-size; two.hands long, proriding a thoroughly fresh and feminine possibly, and as wide as the palm; the field for the paid labours of gentlewomen, birds are storks, opening their grey wings, these managera have answered a loudly- standing on their slim rose-pink legs, whilst reiterated question, and have resolved that they nestle against the plants, and preen a most excellent and desirable work shall their feathers with their slender bills. resolutely be carried out. Beautiful effect is gained by these plants Now, on the face of it, at the outset, the and birds being of velvet " applique," sewn needlework - announced to be taught in on to the satin by some edge or cord. these new schools is decorative. That Another screen, lent by the Duchess of makes it costly; that makes it a luxury; Newcastle, is quite as chaste, and costly, that makes it available, at any rate on a and artistic. The groundwork of the panels large scale, only for the rich. All this of this appears to be a diaper of gold. It must be clearly understood. A very much is really amber-coloured manufactured silk, more complex matter is it to understand with a tiny diamond pattern woven into it; what decorative needlework of this sort and on this fabric the pupils have em­ is; to understand, that is, how crewels broidered (in sUk) a delicate traU of autumn and floss silks, cleverly manipulated, can leaves, bearing russet berries, and being become high-art upholstery and furniture; relieved, at intervals, by scarlet and orange can afford an infinity of various and ever- butterflies, A third screen, with aback- varying forms, for taste, and talent, and ground only of Bath-rubber, or a kind of ingenuity; for these same royal schools, woolly Russian "crash," would take a great in short, to find expression in, and place, many less bank-notes to pay for it, and yet and motive, or raison d'etre. The best way, by the grace of its embroidery (each panel broadly, to get an idea of this is to re­ has a trail of flame-coloured nasturtiums, member, also broadly, what it is to deco­ worked in crewel) it could find fit place in rate a house, and what is the ordinary the apartments of a queen. Hangings, too, function of a decorator. A curtain, for both for curtains and portieres, are excel­ example, is a curtain; so can any cloth, or lent examples of how richness can have hanging, or covering, be bought at a higher richness added to it by the beautiful work­ or lower price, as cloth, or banging, or manship executed in these schools. The covering, and be naUed up, simple, and Duke of Westminster lends a set of cur­ remain so. That is one plan of hiding tains, to which the eye is at once attracted. away plain walls, and planks, and chair The material is drab, or fawn, silk ; and it seats; of saving the rush of air from is enriched, all over, by great iris flowers, passages and doorways, from minuter by splendid roses and convolvuluses, all in cracks and crannies. But let this material " proper" colours and in silk, and kept to­ be subjected to the skUful treatment prac­ gether by a tracery of stalk or stem, and tised in these schools, and it can be made a charming variety of naturally-formed into a work of art, into a genuine thing of leaves. Some hangings of crimson satin, beauty, by patience, industry, and the dex­ lent by. Countess Cowper, are of similar terous passage of the needle. Its value is design and magnificence, and not less enhanced a hundredfold, too; it is rendered noticeable. Others are of brown velvet, an heirloom; certain to have centuries of embroidered in coloured wool; of cream- Ufe to it, a possession insuring care and coloured silk (worked for Lady Musgrave), veneration. A large folding-screen shall also in wool; and there is a set, of velvet, be citod as an instence. A large folding- the property of Lord Whamcliffe, remark­ screen, let it be pressed upon the attention; able for having the embroidery confined to not an elegant plaything for the hand; not the border, which is, however, of bold con­ a hanging fire-shade, called, in a feudal ception, a foot wide, perhaps, and consist­ way, a " banner," but a real piece of fur­ ing of massive sunflowers, each head as niture, solid enough to stand in a vast vigorous and lifeful as if it were rearing reception-room, and part off into privacy itself against a sunny waU. But perhaps a good-sized corner of it. Such a screen, the most superb curtains exhibited are a being of simple stretohed black satin, has pair of costly crimson velvet, worked with so delicious a group of leaves and birds a deep margin, and a monogram for the Charlea Dickena.] SCHOOL OF ART-NEEDLEWORK. [July 31,1876.] 421

centre-piece, in gold. These are regal. white serge, or camlet; teble-cloths (to They are no "unreverent robes." They mention a few) with a marfflu only, of remind of Gremio's " basins and ewers to embroidery, worked in coloured wool; lave her dainty hands;" of his there is a cloth of feuiUe-morto, or sage, . . . Han^gs an of Tyrian tapestry; edged with a band of whito cloth, and that His arras, counterpoints; embroidered with bold yeUow flowera ; Cosily apparel, tents, and canopies; another of these has a band of darker Fhie linen; Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl; Valance of Venice gold in needlework. velvet, Ughtoned by a wreath of great whito daisies conventionally treated; and Certeinly, for no homely house, to use there are cloths of serge, banded with other Richard Plantegenet's words, are these rich serge, of deeper or paler tone; there are hangings. And yet, on close examination, whito " huckabacks " bordered with crim­ the gold that edges them, as in the case of son twill, bearing scarcely any embroidery the gold iu her Grace of Newcastle's fold­ at aU. Indeed, to beautify for the mere sake ing-screen, is not gold at all, but mauu- of beauty, and to take ordinary matorials to factored silk. This is laid on the velvet work this magic upon, are the legitimate (applique), kept within the artist's Umite labours of decoration; are, most especiaUy, by a sewn cord; another example of which the legitimato labours of the thousands of appliqu6-work is given in some crimson unemployed and cxJtivatod Englishwomen, damask-satin hangings belonging to the anrious to decorato their own or other Duchess of Buccleuch. These have a bor­ people's homes; and these have not been der of "patinds of bright gold," laid on overlooked by the patronesses and councU white satan, relieved by massive sprays of of the South Kensington School. One way leaves and fiowera in crimson velvet; and in which this is shown is on a small piece they, as weU as the other examples enume­ of drugget lying on their exhibition floor. rated, give exceUent testimony to the value It is just a foot-stand on coming out of of design, and contrast, and appliance; to the bath, perhaps; an oblong piece, twelve the beauty, too, of the feminine art this inches by eightoen, of the common "duffel" Royal School of Art-Needlework, with so grey; ite cost, a few pence. A gentle-, much taste and wise benevolence, is esteb­ woman's hand has taken this uninriting lished to toach and to rerive. material (which would lie about an un­ In the matter of superb coverings for thrifty house, to get "dog's-eared" or tables, also, the school is strong. Lord kicked heedlessly away), a gentlewoman's Calthorpe lends one of dark blue velvet, sense of beauty has been applied to it, and embroidered in amber and blue, and it has a " button-hole " edge of rich claret deeply fringed. There are some of worated, a worked band an inch or two with­ various-coloured satins; and there are in this, and a centre-piece of thick leaves many specimens of bordera, already and flowera. SimUar treatment has given worked, to be sewn round any velvet value to a bath blanket, which is prettUy, or satin to be desired. One of these, but very easily, embroidered all round with lent by Lady Marion Alford, is of velvet scarlet wool; and has " repair'd with double laid on to satin, and embroidered in floss riches " some common drugget used to keep silk; others are of fine white linen, cut to draughte from open doorways, and caUed, a deUcate tracery, Uke Spanish lace, and technjcally, portieres. The Vorated used bound round every edge with gold thread. to embeUish these is coarae and cheap; the Nothing could weU be more elegant or ex­ pattoms are wide apart and bold*; but there pensive than these—a background of red is the matorial improved, by many times, silk, or amber silk, showing up the pattern in price, and fornung an object that the most effectively. They are all, however, eye is glad to see. Strips of embroidered of immense price ; suiteble only for a linen, to be sewn round washing-dresses, home whose mistress are shown in the school, too, a hand wide, Sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, and as many yards long as may be required. * * • • The embroidery is in coloura; it can be Bearing a duke's revenues on her back. » • * « seen at once to be a work of art by hand, The very tnun of her worst wearing gown not machine-facture; and from having a Better worth than all my &ther's lands. ground of linen, not cotton, it would re­ And they must not be mentioned without main a work of art aftor even half a a companion statement that there are other century of laundresses' wear and tear. materials and other styles of work that can Cushion - covera approach,- again, more be supplied at much less cost. There are nearly to the ordinary " &ncy-work " Bn- 1= r!k- 43,2 [July 81,1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

glish women are apt to do. There are comes into the mind naturally, in con- plenty at South Kensington ; yet, such tomplating this. And. her Majesty the as there are, resemble in no way the Queen, it must be added, is* not unrepre­ " boarding-school" work that is prevalent, sented. In another case there is a robe, and that requires no particular art-sense or jupe, exhibited, which is being prepared from its workers, and no marked culti­ for her Majesty's own wear. The material vation of brain. The covera exhibited are, is black satin; it is cut "rase," the queen's some of them, of white satin, with a de­ lady-subjects wUl be interested to hear licious gathering of blue forget-me-nots ; (which means it is to shave the ground, in others, of olive satin, with bouquete in pretty French descriptiveness, not to sweep "proper" colours, harmoniously treated, it); it is quUted and wadded ; with a run­ though not confined to one sort of flower. ning pattern, floriated, covering it entirely, There is art in these designs, too, it and making it of consistent elegance and must be remembered. They are not price. " The king's daughter . . . shaU blotches of colour, unnaturally " shaded," be brought unto the king in raiment of growing out of nowhere, printed and needlework. ... Thy raiment was of stamped, to be reproduced by the score. siUs: and broidered work." It is all good; They proclaim the same tender perceptions it is all queenly, and, what is more to the in the designer as are known to be in the purpose, womanly; and it reopens, under mind of the paintor of a delicato picture; most favourable conditions, a large field in of the composer of an ennobling and grace­ which women's labour can never have ful melody. And, though the designer is masculine competition, and which woman not the worker (for art-masters of well- has always had entirely for her own. proved skill give their aid to the essential Much to be congratulated, also, are poor particular of design), the gentlewomen gentlewomen at having royal ladies over who wield the needle bear the same rela­ them who know their wants, and their sensibilities, and cultivation; who have, too, tion to the designers as the engraver does thus allied themselves to bring a beautiful to the painter, the player to the creative art into new prominence and demand, for musician; and, unless the art-sense of an the very wise and benevolent reason that it interpretor be in sympathy with the origi­ is entirely within gentlewomen's compass, nator, unless the finger have a dainty touch, and must, for its own sake, be thoroughly it is well known that the best creation congenial to them. England has, whether suffera, and has a very bare result. happily or unhappUy, women who must Notice of these Royal Schools would work; England has women who will not be completo without a word about work; women who have culture, and some chair-covere worked for the Empress courage, and the resolution to overcome of Russia. They are of satin, a very dark the disagreeablenesses of work, the phy­ green; S/ud each one bears a bouquet of sical fatigue of it, its mental annoyance floss-sUk flowera. In a case near to these and ignoble strain; it only remained, there­ is a design for a folding-screen, for the fore, to find the right work fitted for these Princess of Wales; in course of execution, women, to give it dignity, to create a taste it may be presumed, or in that completer for it, to bring it to the market, and offer condition, "sent home," since only the it at a price. And, since the Royal School artist's drawing is shown, with the colours of Art-Needlework has stepped in precisely he recommends. A design, from the to effect all this, and seems to have dis­ hand of Princess Louise, has an intorest covered a right royal road (at last) in of its own. It is a large white lUy and which it may all be effected, nothing has lUy leaves, arranged for repetition and to be said beyond a good hope that it TVUI as a border, some nine or ten inches have strength, and health, and a long wide, for hangings, it may be, and table- prosperity. coverings, en suite. Princess Helena goes farther still in practical co-operation with In these columns,* the idea of the women the aims of the school. Her Royal High­ of the present day reverting to the art- ness, being the president, and taking a needlework of their ancestresses has been prominent part in CouncU and Committee, advocated before. It is true such advo­ shows a piece of her own embroidery. It cacy was to the point of the beautiful and is a geometric pattern, worked on black durable industry being cultivatod as a satin, in scarlet and amber sUk. pleasure, not as a means of bread; but 0 that thou knew'st The royal occupation! Thou should'st see * See ALL THE YEAE BOUND, August 16th, 1873, A workman in't! " Ancient Needlework."

= f ^^ = 13 m=Charle s Dickena.] REMARKABLE ADVENTURERS. [July 31,1876.] 423

the fact of ite being cultivated as a with needlework; Valeria found Volumnia means of earning money does not touch andVirgiUa " manifest housekeepera," and the beauty, and the womanliness, and did what she could to make them " play the the desirability, however; and, in fact, idle housewife " with her for an aftomoon. gives every argument used then the same " What, are you sewing here ? Come, lay force now, and more. An immense open­ aside your stitchery ! I would your cam­ ing exists in art-needlework, too, lead­ bric were as sensible as your finger, that ing the women of the present day leagues you might leave pricking it for pity! " and leagues beyond their ancestresses. Anne Hathaway must have used her needle Everything that civilisation lacked cen­ resolutoly; with, possibly, somewhat too turies ago, civilisation glories in now; persistent and too flippant wUl; how other­ and this must bring as new an aspect to wise could Shakespeare have writton so this art as it has brought to other arts humorously: elsewhere. The mere action of mind upon WTiat is this ? A sleeve ? . . . . mind, by people getting quickly to each What! up and down, carv'd like an apple tart, other owing to convenience of locomotion; With snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and sla^h! hy people seeing what other people have And with all this evidence of the adherence done; the bold eye learning from the of women to omamentetion by the needle, quaint; the pale treatment blossoming from let the councU of the Rt)yal School of admixture with the rich; the too-hard hand Art-Needlework congratulate themselves recognising the beauty and the bounty of heartily if they are the means of the art the free; the mere fact of peoplei b^g being cultivated much more largely than brought acquainted with other uses, with it could be within their walls, and if it other fabrics and materials, with other reaches all over the country, and is prac­ forms, must have an immense effect, in tised by women of all grades. Some comic the end, on the art-needlework of to-day, satisfaction may come to the councU, too, as compared with the art-needlework of anent a new species of what may be caUed centuries bygone; and it wiU be well that Benefit of Clergy. Nineteenth-century this should be actively bome in recoUection young ladies have been in the habit of by the councU of the Royal Schools. One inundating bachelor and favourite curatos curious fact about this inevitable growth with braces and slippers, worked on can­ and alteration is, that the precise way of it vas, in " lovely " BerUn wool. If, aftor cannot be foretold. Like other growths, it this loan exhibition, young ladies (without is growth, not fabrication, and it must be the prospect of immediate recompense for left to the development of time. Let the it) will embroider bath foot-stands, bath council, being sure it will come, be on the blankets, bordera for table-covers and watch for it, that is all; and let them go hangings, and panels for folding-screens, on all the more hopefully with their labours, they may be quite sure their presents will knowing that, though they plant for only be very much more useful and accepteble one sort of fruit, others will come, no less than they are now, and the Royal School necessary and nourishing; and that these of Art-Needlework may be thanked for fruits will be their fruits, and should not haring brought about a very practical, be looked upon as unexpected or alien. albeit it may be an utterly unintended, One result from the establishment of revolution. schools for art-needlework is perhaps so manifest, it may as well at once be pointed REMARKABLE ADVENTURERS. out. If the art be good for gentlewomen, it will be good for otljer women, not bom CASANOVA. gentle, but perhaps as cultivated, as full m FIVE CHAPTERS. CHAPTER V. OUT OF THB of patience and art-feeling, as necessitous, WORLD. •dlework is classic. Josiah brake down THE fatal command, "Up and be­ - houses near by the house where the gone !" softened by a donation of a thou­ women wove hangings; Solomon decked sand ducats from the king of Poland, ^- bed with coverings of tapestry, with proved but the first of a long series of carved work, with fine linen of Egypt; set similar affronts—minus the ducats. Even a woman far above rubies who laid her the warmest admirers of adventurous life, liands to the spindle, who made heraelf and the most able professors of the noble and her household coverings of tapestry, art of living on one's wits, must confess ^nd silk, and scarlet; Moses wished for that, unless lead, steel, or hemp intervene, hangings of fine twined linen, wrought a time must come when the best artist

•^ x

4'24 [July 31,1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

irill find that he has pretty well covered his familiar genius—not Paralis, but Im­ the map of this world with the fame of pudence—writes to Prince Kaunitz, solicits his deeds, and, like a Newgate Alexander, an interriew, and is recommended to peti­ must sigh for new worlds to swindle. Now tion the empress. The Venetian ambas­ fame is all very well in its way, but this sador, of course, wUl say nothing for an particular kind of fame is more likely escaped stete prisoner. Nevertheless he than any other to leave its possessor with­ '' falls on his feet" and secures the protection out a shoe to his foot. No sooner does a of Count Witzthum, the Saxon envoy, who too celebrated adventurer arrive in a town tells him to write his petition at once. In than a disposition is shown to kick him an ill-inspired moment he pens the foUow­ out pf it, and the slightest pretext suflB.ces ing remarkable document:— for an order to quit, then and there. The ghosts of his misdeeds confront him at "TO HER MAJESTY THB BMPRESS-QUEEK. every turn. Happy hunting-grounds, once " MADAM,—If an insect, about to be fiUed with ready dupes, are drawn in crushed by your imperial and royal foot, vain. The hunter is, alas for him! all implored your mercy, I am conrinced that too celebrated. The twang of his long­ your majesty would spare the poor crea- bow is a too familiar sound. Imperti­ iiure. I am that insect, and I intreat you, nent people tell him with a sneer that madam, to order the governor, the Count he is "known." Let him but clap Schrotembach, to wait but one week his hand on his sword, it is enough. before crushing me with your majesty's Down come the police with the usual slipper. At the expiration of that time it chorus, "Up and begone!" and all the is probable that the count would be unable work has to be begun over again. to do me any injury; it is possible even that at that time your majesty may have In the smaller German towns Casanova withdrawn from him the redoubtable fared not badly after his expulsion from slipper that you have intrusted to him Poland. At Leipzig, Dresden, and Schwe- to crush evil-doers, and not an honest and rin he came to no particular grief, and peaceable Venetian, who, notwithstanding . found time to cane an editor at Cologne ; his flight from the Piombi, has always but a slight scrape at Vienna was quite respected the laws, enough to bring the Austrian police down upon him. " 21st Jan., 1767. CASANOVA." Count Schrotembach sends a messenger This extraordinary mixture of imperti­ to bring the Venetian before him. They nence and serrility produces the effect jump into Casanova's carriage—he still which might have been anticipated. Count keeps his carriage — and soon arrive at Witzthum adrising, the Venetian makes off the governor's offlce. This gentleman to Augsburg, swearing vengeance against " of remarkable obesity " calls Casanova Austria, and resolving to hang one Por- to him, and showing him a watch, says : chini—to whom he owed the entire " You see what o'clock it is. WeU, if "trouble "—with his own hands. Pushing you are inside Vienna at the same hour on to Paris, the same "fatality" pursues to-morrow, I will have you flung out of it him, Beholdhim walking peaceably enough by my agente." in a concert-room, near the orangery of " What have I done, sir, to bring upon the TuUeries. He is quito alone, looking me so severe an order ? " somewhat middle-aged, but dressed as " To begin with, you have no right to gaily as ever, in all the colours of the ask questions, and I owe you no account rainbow. Suddenly he hears his own name, of my actions. Nevertheless, I may tell and forgetting the proverb, listens to the you that you would have been left in conversation between a very young man peace if you had not infringed the laws and a party of ladies. The youth is teUing of the empire, which forbid games of how Casanova has cost him a million, by hazard and send swindlers to the galleys. robbing the lato Madame d'Urfe of it— Do you know this purse ? " no very great exaggeration if the young Casanova explains that his purse has gentleman were the heir of that infatuated been stolen from him. Count Schrotom- lady, Casanova goes up to the "calum­ bach merely laughs and continues : niator," threatens to kick him, and makes a scene. Next morning a chevalier of St. " I know your inventive genius, and Louis waite upon him with an order, "m why and how you left Warsaw, so pre­ the king's name," to quit Paris in twenty- pare to leave Vienna." four hours. The reason assigned is simply Casanova blusters in vain, and invoking

B= :ifcl f:Charle s Dickena.] REMARKABLE ADVENTURERS, [July 31, 1876.] 425 the " wiU and pleasure " of his majesty, his feet, he again visite Rome, Bologna, and the document concludes with the and Ancona, but finds that good fortune words, " wherefore, I pray God that he has left bim with his youth. His position may have you in his holy keeping." in the world is no longer pleasant. Money Furious Casanova obteins a delay of a few is getting scarce. His aUies and protectora days, and then sets off for Spain, well are dead. He is getting old, and finds suppUed with money, and furnished, more­ himself almost at the end of his tother, over, with a letter from the Princess without profession, position, or capital. Lubomirska, a friend of Madame de The great cities of Europe are closed to Rumain, to Count Aranda, president of him, and the police everywhere on the the CouncU of CastUe, and "more of a alert. The great adventurer sees at- last king than the king himself." To this the eril of his ways, and detormines to famous stetesman—the expeller of the strain what little influence he has left to Jesuits from Spanish soil—a man of him, to get himself restored to his rights the highest capacity, and, moreover, as a Venetian citizen. To this end he a man of pleasure, but of an exterior fixes his head-quartors at Triesto, and by absolutely hideous, not to say disgusting. rendering serrice to his government, earns Casanova presents his letter, finding various subsidies, in hard cash, and a smaU the count at his toilet. Aranda "looks pension. At last his efforts are crowned him over" from head to foot, and com­ with success, and in 1776, at the age of mences ominously, fifty, he is permitted to return to Venice. " Why have you come to Spain ? " The life of this extraordinary man now " To acquire information, my lord." becomes for several yeara a complete blank. " You have no other object ? " What he did during the eight years between " None—save to put my humble talents 1776 and 1783, when he again quitted his at the service of your highness.'' "ungrateful country," is unknown, save " You do not need my protoction to live that he wrote a book on the Polish ques­ in peace. Attend to the police regulations tion, then occupying a large space in and nobody will interfere with you. As public opinion. For some unexplained for employment, apply to your ambassador. reason he again left Venice, never to re­ It is his business to present you, for we turn, and as the renown of his exploits had do not know you." died out or been effaced by those of Cag­ Unfortunate Casanova is driven to ex­ liostro, he again risited Paris, only to find plain that he and the Grand Seigniory his former friends dead or poor. Never­ are not on the best of terms, and heara theless, we find him on excellent terms .that, in that case, nothing can be done with his countrymen abroad. At dinner for him. Nothing abashed, he tries one day at the ambassador's he meets a the Neapolitan ambassador, the Duke certein Count Waldstein, nephew of the Lassada, favourite of the king, but with­ Prince de Ligne, and greatly interested in out avail. They aU refer him to the the magical nonsense, which, thanks to Venetian ambassador. Writing to his Cagliostro and others, is a common topic friend Dandolo at Venice, for a few lines of conversation in learned society. Wald­ of recommendation to Mocenigo, he pre­ stein telks of divination, the key of Solo­ sents himself in due course, and is received mon Agrippa, and so forth. Casanova by Gaspardo Soderini, " a man of wit and bursts out with " Cospetto! to whom do talent," who at once remarks on the you speak of these matters ? To me, "great liberty" Casanova has taken in Casanova, it is an old story. I know all appearing before him. about it." " Don't you know, signer, that you are Waldstein is delighted to find an adept, forbidden to set foot on Venetian torri- and cries, " Come and live with me in tory? Now this embassy is Venetian Bohemia. I start to-morrow." territory!" At the end of his resources,' old, poor, Mocenigo, in fact, is very glad to know weary of going up and down in the earth, hun as a private acquaintance, but cannot and to and fro in it, the way-worn, battered be brought to recognise him publicly. As adventurer jumps at the offer, and is in- usual, Casanova gets into trouble before stelled as librarian to Count Waldstein at long, is locked up at Biien Retire, but the castle of Dux, near Toeplitz, there to contrives to get out of prison quickly, pass,-on the modest income of a thousand obly to undergo incarceration in the citadel florins per annum; the last fourtoen years of Barcelona. Shaking Spanish dust off of a stormy life. " Daring six summera," r -r est 426 [July 31,1876.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

writes the Prince de Ligne, " he made me He walked through a minuet according to happy by his wonderful imagination—as tradition, and laughter broke out again. lively as if he were but twenty years of He put his white plume in his hat, donned age—by his enthusiasm for me> and his his gold embroidered coat, his ample velvet agreeable instruction." waistcoat, his garters with paste buckles It must not be imagined, however, that over his silk stockings, and the rude guests in the quiet retreat which the kindness of held their sides. " Cospetto! " he roared, Count Waldstoin prorided for him the "you are aU 'canaiUe;' you are all Jaco­ fiery old IteUan could not succeed in bins. You insult the count, and the count raising a storm. On the contrary, his insults me by not resenting your infamous virid imagination and equaUy lively behaviour." Then he attecked the count temper made the castle of Dux almost himself. " Sir, I have fought and wounded uninhabitable. To begin with, he could the grand general of Poland. I was not not speak either German or Bohemian, born a gentleman, but I have made myself and never wearied of cursing the natives one." The count laughed—another in­ for ignorant barbarians, incapable of ap­ jury. One fine morning the count enters preciating a savant of his rank. Hardly his room with two pairs of pistols, uttering a day passed without an altercation between 'never a word, and dying to laugh outright. the steward or some of the servants and Casanova weeps, embraces him, and cries, the leamed librarian. The cook had spoUed " Shall I kiU my benefactor ? Oh! che his "polenta," or ruined tbe dish of ma­ beUa cosa! " He checks his tears, fancy­ caroni he always insisted upon, or burnt ing the count may think he is frightened, his coffee; the chief coachman had given accepts the pistols, hands them back, him a rash and careless driver to take him striking an attitude like a dancing-master, to visit the Prince de Ligne; the dogs had weeps again, and talks magic, cabala, and barked during the night and disturbed his macaroni. Complaints pour in from vU- exceUency the Ubrarian; unexpected guests lagers that the old man is too fond of had arrived at the castle, and Casanova had gossiping with their daughtora. The vil­ been obliged to dine at a side table; the lagers are probably in the right, for we hunting-horns had played out of tune; know the customs, not to say manners, of the parson had tried to convert him; the the Signer Casanova, and can picture the count had not met him cordially; the wicked old roue tottering about on his soup had been served too hot; the foot­ high red heels and leering at the country man had passed him over in serring girls with his rheumy eyes, like a super­ the wine; he had not been presented to annuated satyr, Bohemian parents under­ a person of quaUty who had come to stand him not, abhor the outlandish old see the lance which pierced the great rascal, and " cry haro" upon him. He Waldstein; the key of the arsenal had says they are detestable democrats. He been not lost but hidden, out of pure spite; gives a nickname to the neighbouring the count had lent a book without notify­ abbey of Osseg, gets into trouble with the ing him; a groom had forgotten to touch monks, and drags the count into the his hat to him. The guests, too, were quarrel. He gives himself indigestion, nearly aa bad as the servants, and were ill- and complains that he is poisoned. He is mannered enough to laugh at the poor " spilt" out of a carriage, and says it is old broken-down adventurer, who fancied the work of Jacobins. He gets materials himself the possessor of the true " grand on credit at the count's cloth factory, and manner." He tried to speak German rather says the people are disrespectful when they than remain silent; but his smooth Vene­ caU for the money. tian tongue floundered over Teutonic gut­ His deadliest enemy at Dux was a turals and aspirates. The gueste could certein Faulkinher, steward of Count not understand him; he got into a Waldstein. This peraonage, whose name passion, and they laughed consumedly. reads like Faulconer badly spelt, tried He spouted his French verses—poor old every possible derice to get Casanova out man—and they laughed still more. He of the castle, and led the peppery old gesticulated wildly whUe declaiming his feUow a terrible life. The count himself Italian veraes, and they laughed again. On stood by Casanova, so far as reason and entoring a room he made his best bow, common sense would permit, but in his still ia the grand manner taught him by absence his stoward "persecuted" the Marcel, the famous dancing-master, sixty Ubrarian, who was, no doubt, a disagree­ yeara before, and they laughed stUl more. able tenant enough.

<=K= ^ A= SL Charlee Dickena.] A CHARMING FELLOW. [July 31, 1876.] 427

So long as Casanova drew his salary seriously complaining of his "humilia­ regularly, he kept his own privato teWe tion," as when pouring out torrente of in the count's absence, and paid his Uvely sarcasms on the Tedeschi. Poor Tfay, but a terrible disaster at Leiprig, old boy I He is oiUy too glad to bring in which Casanova was concemed, with back his Herculean frame, his ever-youth­ his publishere, to the extent of four ful rivacity, his Homeric appetite, and a thousand florins, having compelled him stock of good stories to tell his friends to renounce half of his little income, Waldstein and De Ligne. On their side he found it impossible to eat alone in they are charmed'with him, and like him soUtary grandeur, and was fain to share better than ever after that last bath in the the table of the count's upper servants. rushing tide of the outer world, which has This was a terrible blow, the more espe­ brightened him into a semblance of his cially as a stud-groom was admitted to sit former self. All goes smoothly for a near Casanova. This fellow appears to have week, but, alas ! at the expiration of that been of a humorous turn. Stealing a book period misfortunes and vexations recom­ of Casanova's, he abstracted the portrait mence. At dessert there are strawberries. frontispiece, enriched it with opprobrious The riUanous lackeys, out of spite, hand epithets, and stuck it up in the market­ them to everybody before Casanova, and place. The storm was tremendous, but when the dish reaches him it is empty. the bitterest sarcasms fell blunted from Worae than this; he one morning misses his the thick hides of Casanova's tormentors. portrait out of his room, and imagining it At last these persecutions wear out his to have been carried off by one of his ad­ patience. Adopting his usual expression, mirers, is in a delightful frame of mind "It is the wUl of God," or "God wUls it," tUl he finds it naUed up behind a steble- he declares himself about to t|uit Dux. door. He asks the Prince de Ligne for letters of Thus drag on the dreary years which recommendation to the Grand Duke of precede dissolution. In a strange land, Weimar, his particular friend; for the far from faUen Venice, her wayward son Grand Duchess of Saxe-Gotha, whom he sinks slowly into the grave, bitterly re­ does not know; and for the Berlin Jews. gretting his once superb physical strength, He sets out on the sly, leaving a farewell and occasionally admitting to himself that letter for Waldstein—tender, proud, candid, his life has been made up of splendid and irritated. Waldstein only laughs, and opportunities recklessly fiung away. About says he wUl be sure to come back. For­ the commencement of the present century getting his nearly seventy yeara, the he fades out altogether. It is gratifying veteran sets out with aU the hopefulness of to find that he made an edifying end. youth, but is doomed to have his spirite speedUy and cruelly dashed. He is kept kicking his heels in ante-chambers. No­ A CHARMING FELLOW. body wUl give him a place, either as BT PSANOBB ELJANOR TROLLOPB. AurmoK or " Axnrr MARUAREr'a TKOUBU," " UXBSL'B tutor, librarian, or chamberlain; he nraaKxsa/' bo. bo. says, everywhere in season, and out of * season, that the Germans are a stupid CHAPTER XXVI. people. The exceUent and amiable Grand IN the first week of August Mrs. Exring- Dake of Weimar receives him cordially ton returned to Whitford. She had got enough, but he immediately becomes jea­ over her annoyance at not having been lous of Goethe and Wieland, the famous intrusted sooner with the news of Alger­ prot^g^s of the grand duke, and declaims non's engagement to Miss KUfinane. By against them and the literature of the dint of telUng her friends so, she had country. At Berlin he-thunders against at last persuaded herself that she had the ignorance, the superstition, and the been in the secret aU along; and, if she rascality of the Jews, to whom he is re­ felt any other mortifications and dis­ commended; but, nevertheless, borrows appointments connected with her son's money of them, and draws biUs of exchange marriage, she kept them to herself. But on his long-suffering patron, Count Wald­ it is probable that she did not keenly feel stein, who only laughs, pays the money, any such. She was not sensitive y and and embraces the ancient prodigal, when, she did believe that, by connecting him­ after six weeks' absence, he comes back to self so nearly with Lord Seely's family, Dux, penitent and proud, laughing and Algemon was advancing his prospecte weeping by turns, equally amusing when of success in the worhL. These sources

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of comfort, combined with an excellent be waiting at the corner by the booking- digestion, and the perennial gratification of office. I wonder whether the driver wUl eontomplating her own claims to distinc­ be the lame old man or young Sim­ tion as contrastod with those of her mons ?" She was stUl debating this neighbours, kept the worthy lady in good question when the coach turned sharply spirits, and she returned to Whitford in round under the archway, and stopped a kind of full blow of cheerfulness and in the great rambling yard of the old- importance. fashioned Blue BeU Inn. Her reception there, at the outset, was, Mrs. Errington got down unassisted, however, far from being what she had James Maxfield was not there. She looked forward to. She had writton to looked round in bewilderment, standing Rhoda, announcing the day and hour of hot, dusty, and tired in the yard, where, her arrival, and requesting that James after a bustling waiter had tripped up to Maxfield should meet her at the Blue Bell her to ask if she wanted a room, and Inn, where the coach stopped, with a fly tripped away again, no one took any heed for the conveyance of herself and her lug­ of her. gage to her old quarters. Mrs. Errington A fly was not to be had in Whitford at had not preriously written to Rhoda from a moment's notice. After waiting for Westmoreland, but she had forwarded to some ten minutes, Mrs. Errington found her, at different times, two copies of the there was nothing for it but. to walk to Applethwaito Advertiser. In one of these her lodgings. She left her luggage in the journals a preliminary announcement of coach-office to be called for, and set Algernon's marriage had appeared, under out carrying a rather heavy hand-bag, the heading of " Alliance in High Life." and hurrying through the streets at a. In the second, there was an account of the pace [much quicker than her usual dig­ wedding, and the breakfast, and the re­ nified rato of moving. She wished not joicings in the village of Long Fells, to be seen aAd recognised by any passing which did much credit to the imagina­ acquaintance under circumstences so un­ tive powers of the writer. According to favourable to an impressive or triumphant the Applethwaite Advertiser, the cere­ demeanour. mony had been imposing, tbe breakfast Arrived at Jonathan Maxfield's house, sumptuous, and the vUlage demonstrations the aspect of things was not much im­ enthusiastic. proved. Betty Grimshaw opened the Mra. Errington had bought twenty door, and stared in surprise on seeing copies of the newspaper^ for distribution Mrs. Errington. She had not been ex­ among ^ler friends; and she pleased her­ pected. Mr. Maxfield was over at Duck­ self with thinking how grateful the Max­ well at his son's farm. James was busy fields would be to her for sending them in the storehouse. And as for Rhoda, she the papers with the interesting paragraphs was away on a visit to Miss Bodkin, at the marked in red ink. She also looked for­ seaside, and had been for some weeks. A ward with much complacency to haring letter ? Oh, if a letter had come"f or Rhoda, Rhoda for a listener to all her narrations her father would have sent it on to [her. about the wedding and life at Long Fells, It was a two days' post from where she and the great people whoni she had met was to Whitford. And the newspapers ? there. Rhoda was such a capital Ustener I Betty did not know. She had not seen And then, besides and beyond all that, them. Her brother-in-law had had them, Mrs. Errington was fond of Rhoda, and she supposed. Yes; she had heard that had more motherly warmth of feeUng for Mr. Algemon was married, or going to be her than she had as yet attained to for her married. The servants from Pudcombe new daughtor-in-law. Hall had spoken of it when they came Mra. Errington's head was stretohed out into the shop. Jonathan had not said of the coach-window as the vehicle olat- anything on the subject, as far as she tored up the archway of the Blue Bell knew. Mrs. Errington knew what Jona­ Inn. It was about seven o'clock on a fine than was. He never was given to much August evening, and there was ample light conversation. And it was Betty's opinion, enough for the traveUer to distinguish all delivered very frankly, that Jonathan grew the famUiar features of the streets through crustier and closer as he got older. But which she passed. " James wiU be stand­ wouldn't Mrs, Errington like a cup of ing in the inn-yard ready to receive me," toa ? Betty would have the kettle boUing she thought; " and I suppose the fly wUl in a few minutes.

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Mrs. Errington felt rather forlom, as pendence also. No, my good Mrs. Grim­ she entered her old sitting-room and shaw, I shaU remain in my old quar­ looked around her. It was trim and neat tera untU Mr. Algemon leaves Whit­ indeed, and spotlessly clean; but it had ford for good. And perhaps, even then, the chUl, repellent look of an uninhabited I may not give you up altogether, who apartment. The comer cupboard was knows ? " locked, and its treasure of Did china Betty hesitatod for an instent before re­ hidden from Yiew. Algernon's books plying. " Then Jonathan has not said were gone from the shelf above the piano. anything to you about giving up the A white cloth was spread over the sofa, rooms ? " and the hearth-rug was turned upside " Good gracious, no I I have not heard down, displaying a grey lining, instead of from Mr. Maxfield at all! " the gay-coloured scraps of cloth. "I suppose he didn't expect you back She missed Rhoda, She had become quite so soon. And—there, I'm sure I accustomed to Algernon's absence from won't teke upon myself to speak for him. the familiar room; but Rhoda's absence I shouldn't have got on with my brother- I made a blank in it, that was depressing. in-law all these years if I hadn't made it And perhaps Mrs. Errington herself was a rule to try for peace and quietness, and surprised to find how dreary the place never intorfere." looked, without the girl's gentle face and But Mrs. Errington peraisting in her modest figure. She gladly accepted Betty demand that Betty should explain herself Grimshaw's invitetion to take her tea more fully, the laiter at length confessed downstairs in the comfortable, bright that, during the past two or three weeks, kitchen, instead of alone in the melan­ Jonathan Maxfield had declared his inten­ choly gentility of her own sitting-room. tion of getting rid of his lodger, and of not Betty was as wooden-faced, and grim, and letting the first fioor of his house again. rigid in her aspect as ever. But she was " Your sitting-room is to be kept as a kind not unfriendly towards her old lodger. of a drawing-room for Rhoda, as I under­ And, moreover, she was entirely respectful stend Jonathan," said she. in her manner, holding it as a fixed A drawing-room for Rhoda! Mra. article of her faith that "gentlefolks Errington could not believe her senses. born " were intended by Providence to be "Why, what is Mr. Maxfield thinking treated with deference, and desiring to of ? " she exclaimed. show that she heraelf had been trained'to " Oh, you don't know what a fuss Jona­ becoming behaviour under the roof of a than has been making lately about Rhoda! person of quality. Before you went away, you know, ma'am, It was little more than nine o'clock as he had begun to spend a deal of money when Mrs, Errington rose to go to bed, on her clothes. And since then, more and being tired with her journey. As she did more; it's been all his talk as Rhoda was so, she said, "Mrs. Grimshaw, will you to be a lady. The notion has got stuck get James to send a hand-cart for my fast in his head, and wUd horses wouldn't Inggage in good time to-morrow ? " drag it out." " Oh, your luggage ? " returned Betty, Mrs. Errington rose very majestically. " WeU, do you think it is worth while " I feair," she said, " I much fear, that I to send for it, if you're not going to am responsible for this delusion of your stay?" brother-in-law. I have a little spoiled the Mrs. Errington was so much astonished girl, and taken too much notice of her. I by this speech, that she sat down again on regret it now. But, really, Rhoda is such the chair she had just quitted. Then, a sweet creature that I don't know that I after a minute's pause, her mind, which have been so very much to blame, either. did not move very rapidly, arrived at It is true I have introduced her to my what she supposed to be the explanation friends, and brought her forward a little of Betty's words, " Oh, I see," she said; beyond her station; but I little thought "you took it for grantod that, on my a man of Mr, Maxfield's common sense son's marriage, I should leave you and join would have been so utterly led away by him. But it is not so, my good soul. My kindly-meant patronage." daughter-in-law has implored me to live " Well, I don't know as it's so much •fl^ith them, but I have refused. It is that, ma'am," returned Betty, in a matter- better for the young people to be by of-fact tone, " as it is that Jonathan has themselves; and I prefer my own inde­ latterly been thinking a deal about his

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money. And he knows money wUl do All this was strange and disagreeable. great things " But Mra. Errington was not of an irritable " Money can never confer gentle birth, or anxious temperament. , And her self- my good creature 1" complacency was of too solid a kind to be " No, for sure, ma'am. That's what I much affectod even by ruder rubs than say myself, I know my catechism, and I any which could be given by James Max­ was brought up to respect my superiors. field's uncouth bluntness. "I shall teke But, you see, Jonathan's heart is greatly set no notice whatever of this," she eaid, with on his riches. He's a well-off man, is my serene dignity. " When your father comes brother-in-law; more so than many folks back, I shall talk to him. Meanwhile, I think. He's been a close man all his life. have a great many important things to And, for that matter, he's close enough do." now in some things, and screws me down The good lady did in truth begin at in the housekeeping pretty tight. But for once to busy herself in seeking a house Rhoda he seems to grudge nothing, and for Algemon, and getting it furnished. wants her to make a show and a splash, There was but a month to make all almost—if you can fancy such a thing of arrangements in, and aU Mra. Errington's Jonathan! But there's no saying how men friends who could by any possibility be wiU turn out; not even the old onesv I'm pressed into the service were required to sure I often and often thank my stars I've assist her. The Dockette; Rose and kept single—no offence to you, ma'am." Violet McDougaU; Mra. Smith, the Mrs. Errington went to bed in a be­ surgeon's wife; ,and even Miss Chubb, wildered frame of mind. Tired as she was, were sent hither and thither, asked to the news she had heard kept her awake write notes, to make inquiries, to hav0~ for some time. Leave her lodgings ! Leave interviews with landlords, and to take as old Max's house, which had been her home much trouble, and make as much fuss, as for so many years! It was incredible. possible, in the task of getting ready an And, indeed, before long she had made up abode for Mr. and the Honourable Mrs. her nund to resist old Max's intention of Algemon Errington. turning her out, "I shaU give him a A house was found without much diffi­ good telking to, to-morrow," she said to culty. It was a small isolatod cottage on heraelf, " Stupid old man! He really the outskirts of the town, with a garden must not be allowed to make himself so behind it which ran down to the meadows absurd." And then Mrs. Errington fell bordering the Whit; and was the very asleep. house, belonging to Barker the chemist, of But the next day old Max did not return which Mrs. Errington had written to her to be telked to; nor the day after that, friend Mrs. Bodkin. James Maxfield went over to Duckwell, It was really a very humble dwelling. and came back bringing a formal notice to But the rent of it was quite as large as Mrs, Errington to quit the lodgings, signed Algernon would be able to afford. Mrs. by his father. Errington saidy " I prefer a small place " What does this mean, James ? " asked for them. If they took a more pretentious Mrs. Errington, with much emphasis, and house, they would be expected to enter­ wide-open eyes. James did not know tain. And you know, my dear sir," (or what it meant. He did not apparently "madam," as the case might be) "that much care, either. He had never been on there is a great mixture in Whitford very friendly terms with the Erringtons society; and that would not suit my (having, indeed, come but seldom in con­ daughter-in-law, of course. You perceive tact with them during aU the time they that, don't you ? " And then the person had lived under the same roof with him), so addressed might flatter him or her self and had, perhaps, been a little jealous in with the idea of belonging to the unmixed his sullen, sUent way, of their petting of portion of society. Rhoda. At aU events, on the present Indeed, this terrible accusation of beiag occasion, he was not communicative nor " mixed " was one which Mrs. Errington very civil. He had performed his father's was rather fond of bringing against the behests, and he knew nothing more. His social gatherings in Whitford, And she father was not coming back home just yet. had once been greatly offended, and a And James volunteered the opinion that good deal puzzled, by Mr. Diamond's he didn't mean to come back untU Mra. asking her what objection there could be Errington should be gone. to that; and chaUenging her to point out

C4(= y •^^^ 4=Cbarle a Dickena-] A CHARMING FELLOW. [July 31,1876,] 431

any good thing en earth, from a bowl of tlie justice of Betty Grimshaw's remark, punch upwards, which was not "mixed! " that her brother-in-law seemed to have Bat however this might be, no one beUeved grown closer and crustier than ever of at aU that the mixture in Whitford society lato. was the real reason for young Errington's "Why, Mr. Maxfield," s&id the lady, inhabiting so small a house. They knew condescendingly, " how do you do ? I perfectly weU that if Algernon's means have been wanting to see you. Come, sit had been larger, his house would have down, and let us telk mattera over." been larger also. Old Max stood in the doorway glaring And yet, Mra. Errington's flourish was at her. " I don't know, ma'am, as there's not without ite effect on some peraons. any matters I want to teUc over with you," 1The y in their turn repeated her lamenta­ he returned. " You had better understend tions on the " mixture " to such of their that I mean what I say. You'U find it acquaintances as did not happen to be also more convenient to beUeve m» at once, her acquaintances. And as there were and to act accordin'." very few indiriduals in Whitford either " Do you mean to say that you intend to so eccentric, or so courageous, as Mr. turn me out, Mr. Maxfield ? " Diamond, this mystorious mixture was " I have given you a legal notice to quit, generally acknowledged, with shrugs and ma'am. You needn't caU it turning you head-shakings,, to be a very great eril out, unless you like." indeed. He had began to move away, when Mrs. At the end of about a fortnight, old Errington exclaimed, " But I really don't Max one day reappeared in his own house, comprehend this at all! What wiU Rhoda and marched upstaira to Mrs. Errington's thmk of it ? " sitting-room. Maxfield stopped, hesitatingly, with his "Well, ma'am," said he, without any hand on the banistora at the top of the preliminary greetang whateoever, "I sup­ landing. " Rhoda ? " said he gruffly. " Oh, pose you underatood the written notice to Rhoda has nothing, to say to it^one way quit, that I sent you? But as my son or t'other." James informs me that.you don't seeni to " But I want to have something to say be taking any stops in consequence of it, to her ! I assure you it was a great dis­ I've come to say that you wUl have tOf appointment to me riot to find Rhoda here remove out of my abode on the twenty- on my return. I'm very fond of her; and seventh of this month, and not a day later. shaU continue to be so, as long as she So you can act according to your judg­ merits it. It is not her fault, poor girl, if ment in finding another place to dweU —other people forget themselves." in." Maxfield took his hand off the banistora Mrs. Errington was inspecting the con­ and turned round. " Since you're so fond tents of a packing-case which had been of Rhoda," he said, with a queer expression sent from London by Lady Seely. It on his sour old face, "you'U be glad to conteined, as her ladyship said, " some know where she is, and the company she's odds and ends that would be useful to the in." young couple." The only article of any " I know that she is at the seaside witii value in the whole coUection was a porce­ my friends, Mra. and Miss Bodkin." lain vase, which had^long stood in obscurity " She is at the seaside with her friends, on a side-teble in Lord Seely's study, and MJ*S. and Miss Bodkin. Miss Minnie is a would not be missed thence. Lady Seely, real lady, and she underatands how to at all events, would not miss it, as she treat Rhoda, and knows that the Lord has seldom entered the room; and therefore made a lady of Rhoda by natur'." she had generously added it to the " odds Mra. Errington stered in uttor astonish­ and ends !" ment. The suspicion began to form and Mrs. Errington looked up, a little strengthen iteelf in her mind that the old flushed with the exertion of stooping over man was positively out of his senses. If the packing-case, and confronted Mr. so, his insanity had taken an extremely un- Maxfield. Her round, red full-moon face pleasiant turn for her. contrasted in a Uvely manner with the old " I reaUy was not prepared for being man's grey, lank, harsh visage. The yeara, turned out of my lodgings after all these as they passed, did not improve old Max's yeara," she said, reverting to the point that appearance. And as soon as she beheld most nearly touched herself. iiifli, Mrs. Errington was convinced of "I've not been prepared for a many

a y^ c& 432 . ALL THB YEAR ROUND. [July 31,1876.]

things as have happened aftor all these a quarter of an hour, staring at the open yeara. But I'm ready to meet 'em when door, " Mad ! " she exclaimed at length, they come," drawing a long breath. " Quite mad ! "Well, but now, Mr, Maxfield, let us But I wonder if there is any truth in what see if we cannot make an arrangement. If he says- about Rhoda's money ? Dear me, you have any different riews about the why she'll be quite a cateh ! " rent, I " " The rent! What do you think your MANY ARROWS IN THE QUIVER. bit of a rent mattera to me ? I want the (POSTSCRIPT.) rooms for the use of my daughter. Miss' Maxfield, and there's an end of it." Two correspondents have favoured us " Oh, he certeinly cannot be in his right with hypothetical explanations of a puzzle senses to address me in this manner!" connected with a passage in the first of thought Mrs. Errington, the two articles bearing the above title. Maxfield went on, " I see you've got a The passage (page 832) runs thus:—" In box of rubbish there, littering about the 'what sense are we to interpret an entry place, I give you warning not to unpack in the Gentleman's Magazine, to the effect any more here, for out everything 'U have that Mrs. Lilly, of Grantham, * was twice to go on the twenty-seventh of this month, mother of twenty-two children ? ' Either as sure as my name's Jonathan Max­ that there were forty-four babies at two field!" births ; or that she was twice married, and "Mr, Maxfield! You are certainly for­ had in all twenty-two children. We prefer getting yourself. Rubbish, indeed ! These to believe the latter, although the words seem to imply the former," Our correspondents are a few—a very few—of the valuable suggest a third explanation. One of them wedding presents sent to my son and writes : " A similar saying is current here daughtor by Lady Seely," about the landlady of one of our inns. She Old Max made a grating sound which had, at one time (not at one birth), nineteen was intended for a laugh, although his chUdren living. Two of them died, and, bushy grey eyebrows were drawn together after their death, two more were born. in a heavy frown the while. Then he sud­ She had thus, twice, nineteen chUdren. denly burst out in a kind of cold fury. When it is given as an unpunctuated sen­ " Pooh ! " he cried. " Presents! Valuable tence, it sounds as if she had given birth presents ! You don't deceive anybody by to thirty-eight," In a like sense our other that! Look here—if the old carpe^t or any correspondent writes: " I think the correct of the furniture in this room would be of idea is the same as the foUowing : On my any assistance to you, you can take it! father's farm in WUtshire, the standing I'U give it to you—a free gift! The place joke with one of the labourers was, that is going to be done up and new furnished his wife had had fourteen chUdren twice for Miss Maxfield. Furnished handsome, over. But it turned out that she had four­ fit for a young lady of property. Fit for a teen, one of whom died, making thirteen, young lady that wUl have a sum o' money and she then had another, thus making a on the day she marries—^if I'm pleased total of fourteen twice," with her choice—^as '11 make some folks' mouths water. It won't be reckoned by It is very probable that the true solu­ twenties, nor yet by hundreds, won't Miss tion of the Lilly mystery is here given. Maxfield's fortin'! You can take the old carpet, and mahogany table, and the high- backed chaire, and put 'em among your Now ready, price 5s. 6d., bound in green cloth, valuable presents. They're too old- fashioned for Miss Maxfield's drawing- THE THIRTEENTH VOLUME room !" And with a repetition of the OF THE NEW SERIES or grating laugh, old Max tramped hearily downstaira, and was heard to bang the ALL THE YEAR ROUND. door of his own parlour, Mra. Errington sat motionless for nearly To be had of all BookseUers,

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